CHAPTER 1

The day that followed the ejection of the Red Stone Pack was fraught with, well, nothing worse than boredom and discomfort. But Chris Larabee would almost have preferred flying bullets. After they had chased off Buck's blood relations, Nathan had patched Buck up and suggested that they return to town for sterile tools, stitches and other such things. The day had been quiet, the townspeople normal and intrusive, and Chris had too much time to think.

He didn't understand what was happening, and relied on carefully measured doses of whiskey to ease himself through the day. Buck spent most of his time asleep, not that Chris could blame him; fucking them all, fighting his family, coping with his injuries, Buck didn't have much left right now. Chris was glad Buck slept; the cat-ate-the-canary look in those long-familiar eyes brought home how little, and how goddamned much, things had changed.

To escape the hesitant, friendly smiles of JD Dunne and Vin Tanner--especially with what he now knew--and the dark, assessing looks from Nathan Jackson, he'd gladly have smeared himself with honey and wrestled a hungry bear. Josiah, far too all seeing and terrifyingly serious, he couldn't even look at.

It was so, so peaceful. Buck, when dragged down from the church rooftop, had promised on Chris' specific and harshly worded orders not to repeat his performance until Nathan proclaimed him well. When Buck had bristled, Chris had merely pointed out that he was the alpha around here and no one had best forget that anytime soon.

Buck had subsided immediately, and he'd thought for a second that the perks might be worth the title. But then when they'd returned Buck safely back to Nathan's room, and a warm, tender silence descended, he'd gotten so spooked it was only an act of iron will that kept him from saddling up and running out of town. Buck had sighed, and when Chris remembered that the stench of fear on him was obvious to at least one of their number, aborted another, stronger twitch toward the door.

"Vin," Buck said to the man behind him who carefully helped him strip off his shirt, "why don't you take Chris on out to his shack and settle him in. I reckon he needs a little time to make sense of all this."

Chris met Buck's eyes, and if anything his fear increased. No, no matchmaking, no thoughtless fucking before he understood what was at work between them here. Buck looked worried, and not quite sorrowful, and Chris felt as if everyone else was holding his breath.

Vin had frozen beside Buck, still holding Buck's discarded shirt in his hands, and when Chris looked to him, Vin met his eyes patiently. Well, Vin could afford to be; he understood what the hell was happening here.

"Vin, you stay here in town and keep an eye on things," he said quietly, grateful that his voice didn't shake. The echo of their singing still resounded in his chest, rattling loose emotions he'd thought long rusted and worn out. They'd sung together from the church roof, they were lucky the townsfolk hadn't come after them with shotguns. "I expect you to keep these people safe, and look after the... the pack. I'll come back when I'm ready."

But he hadn't even lasted the night, the urge to confirm Buck's continued life and his friends' security was so strong. His horse had felt its way along the moonlit trail to his shack, and in the wee hours had felt its way right back. Chris had watched the night fade on the trail, and when he had slipped quietly into Nathan's room just before dawn to check up on his friend, he'd frozen at the sight that greeted him. Nathan had pulled the comfortable armchair up and was curled in it, his feet resting in a jumble beside Buck's on the mattress. The only reason, it seemed, that Nathan wasn't in the bed was because JD was already there. Mostly dressed, thank the lord, he curled up against Buck's side like a gangly puppy.

Buck was awake and he looked rueful in the dim pre-dawn light, staring at Chris with wide and apologetic blue eyes. "Ain't nothin' changed, Chris," he whispered, unmoving. "We're all still the same."

Deep in his heart, he knew this was yet another test, and damned if it wasn't more difficult without the fear of death and bloodshed they'd faced the morning before. Still the same? JD sleeping with Buck, Nathan practically beside him, Buck holding some kind of stud service from his sickbed?

Quiet boots on the stairs made him jerk around, but Buck made a familiar, reassuring sound. "It's just Ezra."

"He sleeping up here, too?"

Buck's eyes darted to the cot in the corner, its sheets rumpled and unmade.

"Where's Vin?" Please, let his voice not sound so bitter as it seemed.

Nathan was the one to answer, his voice sleepy and quiet. "He went back up on that church roof. And Josiah, he's in the church hisself, praying. Said he had a lot of forgiveness to ask for."

Buck chuckled, in that earthy, magical way that tangled in Chris' balls. "I expect he's gonna be praying a lot in future, then."

What were they all thinking? And what would the town folk have to say to this new way they had of talking, of being with each other? It couldn't be long before someone found out, could it? They couldn't hide something like this.

"Chris?"

He got caught up in Buck's anxious eyes just as Ezra approached behind him. Stepping a foot inside the room, he let the man pass, sensed the polite, gentlemanly nod from the edge of his vision, and wondered again at how Ezra Standish, of all of them, could be so damned protective of their wounded Two-Blood. But there was no question about it, none at all. Ezra had given up his privacy and his feather bed to watch over Buck Wilmington-- the one who needed protection the least.

Hesitating, he glanced around. Nathan watched him with gentle, understanding eyes; Ezra, his civilized veneer in place but somehow wary, more exposed; JD snuffled, just beginning to wake. Was everyone Buck's boss, now? No, that was a custom, a way to keep One-Bloods alive when they were brought into a pack, nothing more. But neither was Buck everyone else's boss.

Had nothing truly changed?

One thing certainly had. He was called to be a hell of a lot more honest, and a damned sight more open, than he'd had to be in years. He couldn't walk out, not with everyone's eyes on him. It would be... wrong. So he drew a breath for courage, glared when Buck's eyes sparkled in recognition, and walked around the chair Nathan sat in. Settling gingerly on the edge of the bed, he touched one of Buck's injured limbs, ran his fingers gently up the exposed, powder-soft forearm, pausing at the crook of elbow to feel the heartbeat that throbbed there.

"You getting better?" he asked, trying to make it gruff, like an order.

Buck's palm pressed up against his elbow, gently rubbing the fabric against bare skin beneath. "I've never been better, pard," Buck replied with complete honesty.

Chris' mind shied away from how true that probably was, for this man. "How much longer you gonna be in bed?"

Nathan, watching from his chair, witnessed the interplay with a whole new respect for Chris Larabee. He thought he understood the man, the independence and the careful separation he kept no matter how much he might like a body. And here he was, under the spying eyes of at least two other people, revealing himself, setting his example.

"I reckon he'll be up and around in another two days, unless we tie him to the mattress," Nathan offered, trying to help.

Chris turned and looked at him, eyes unreadable, mouth compressed into a thin, neutral line. "All right." He turned again to Buck, and Nathan watched the hesitation in that narrow back before Chris leaned down and touched his lips to the wounded man's. "I'll be back later."

Chris swept out of the room before anyone could say another word.

Ezra watched the door swing slowly shut behind Chris, before turning his eyes to where Buck had sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, gently dragging the flesh over the bone.

"Well," Ezra said after a moment, "if that isn't a pleasant way to wake up of a morning." He had worried more than the others, and done his best to keep it to himself, about Larabee's abrupt departure just hours before.

"It sure is, Ez." Buck winked at him. "You ought to try it sometime."

Wilmington smiled at him over JD's tousled hair, and it struck him again how very strange this new comfort was. He had never considered himself a brave man, nor a successful one in matters of the heart. And yet he knew he would suffer any discomfort to ease the way of this new--no, not so new, perhaps, just finally acknowledged--family.

JD, finally dragged up from the depths of Morpheus' embrace, mumbled a confused "what?" and glanced around himself, blinking owlishly. "Whass'wron'?"

Buck chuckled and bent to bump his forehead against JD's black hair, and Ezra shrugged off a wave of minor, petty jealousy. Abruptly he remembered that the rules had changed. "Nothing," he whispered softly, striding to the seat Chris had vacated on the bed, reaching to touch Buck's nearer, bandaged shoulder. "I'm quite sure," he said, still talking to the barely-awake JD while staring into Buck's welcoming eyes, "that it was all a dream." A lovely, exhilarating dream that might last for years, if they were all very careful, a dream he would be happy to dream on a thousand nights to come.

"Mnnnmm." JD dropped heavily back to the mattress. "Huhm."

"It's going to be a nightmare, we don't let the man get hisself some sleep and healin' time," Nathan muttered from behind him.

Ezra reached back blindly, patting vaguely at Nathan's trouser-clad knee. "It's all right, Mr. Jackson, I was just preparing to leave and find some sort of adequate repast. And then, perhaps, a decent nap on something more comfortable than that narrow slab of pine you call a bed."

"Hell Ez, this bed's plenty comfortable," Buck said, dreamily content.

"When you're well, and have had ample opportunity to appreciate my feather mattress, you'll understand how very wrong you are, Mr. Wilmington."

Buck chuckled to himself, amused at how Ezra had shifted back to surnames. If the man had any idea how rich, how caressing, his words sounded, he probably wouldn't talk at all. Far be it for Buck to teach him. Not when he had the more important invitation to focus on. "I sure am looking forward to finding out, Ez," he leered. Ezra actually flushed a bit, and cleared his throat, and Buck decided he loved that color on the man.

"I'll take my leave now, gentlemen."

Buck considered grabbing him up for a little promise, but his half-way good arm rested on JD, and he didn't want to wake the kid. He was proud of his little brother, of how JD had stuck his chin out stubbornly the night before, pulled off his boots and coat and guns and just plopped into the bed beside him without a word, and with barely a sneaked look at the other men. JD wasn't after him for his animal magnetism, not at all. The young man just needed to be close, like Buck so often needed to be close when someone was sick or hurting. He smiled and nodded and let Ezra leave.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Josiah Sanchez sat on the church steps, drinking coffee so thick he could paint with it. Mrs. Tipper, he believed, put one pot in the fire and left it boiling until he or Vin rolled in each morning. He blessed the woman daily for it. He had slept amazingly well, knowing Vin was up on the roof communing with nature, and that Nathan kept an eye on Buck, keeping everyone out of trouble. He'd go over in a while, maybe, to check on them... or maybe not.

In the peace of pre-dawn, seeing Chris saddle up and lope out of town was a surprise; he hadn't realized Chris had come back in the first place. Well. It was probably a good omen. Sighing, he finished the last swallow from his tin cup and went back inside to pray.

He sat Indian-style in front of the lectern, and prayed for the safety of his friends, for the reconciliation of Buck with his family, even as he knew it would never happen in this life. He prayed for JD's gentle young spirit, that the boy wouldn't lose his balance amid all these changes, and for Casey, who would eventually have to be told. He prayed for Buck's healing, and Chris' peace, Vin's patience and Ezra's changing luck. He prayed for Nathan's compassion. And eventually, he prayed for himself.

Josiah couldn't say he feared retribution from God for what he had done, or what he would doubtless do again. With all the hurt he had caused in his younger life, and all the men he'd killed, this minor sin would barely earn him a footnote in the Book. And while he didn't necessarily expect a blessing for the future actions of his wayward body, he chose to rely on God to appreciate the love that had inspired the act, and the devotion it, in turn, had inspired.

Josiah felt a grin split his face as he remembered the exhausted, predatory creature that was Buck, stalking him between the pews. He couldn't claim for an instant that it had been a hardship. Tall and broad and lean, Buck's body was worthy of poetry, and he took on sex like a storm crashes down upon the land. The aggression of Buck's submission, the eroticism of it, its illicit nature, and the fact that the church doors didn't lock and that he hadn't cared--he wasn't blind to the symbolism. He thanked the good Lord that he respected the values of Bacchus right alongside those of all the other gods. Not that he figured the Lord had much respect for Bacchus.

The coming weeks and months would prove interesting times, as each of them adjusted to their new place in Buck Wilmington's orbit and in this family, as this new balance asserted itself. He was blessed, he knew, to be witness to what had passed, and what would come.

CHAPTER 2

Vin Tanner checked in on Buck a little after sunrise, found him and JD snoring like pigs in a poke, while Nathan read from some big, leather-bound book. Neither of the men in bed stirred, and Nathan smiled a white-toothed welcome, nodding toward a coffee pot he'd obviously brought from the saloon. This was a gift some eagle god had gone and dropped on his doorstep. Strong magic. Not just the Two-Blood and the fantastic lovemaking, and the remembered taste of Chris on his tongue that he was damned sure he would sample again far more directly, but the way their already tight-knit unit had closed ranks. They were as close as they'd ever been, and looked to be growing closer still.

"Whatcha got there, Nathan?"

"Anatomy book," Nathan said, holding up the spine to show him words stenciled in gold paint.

"I cain't read," he said simply, no longer afraid of that weakness among these men. Mary had gotten him through his alphabet before he'd felt stupid again and avoided her until she gave up. "What's it say?"

Nathan looked stunned at first, but pushed it off fast enough and pointed to the letters, spelling them out while Vin followed his finger, then saying the whole words. He figured he'd be reading as well as any of them, before too long.

Behind him, the bed squeaked, and he turned to find Buck hitching up a little onto his side. Vin met sleepy blue eyes and a moment later he was lying almost on top of the man, touching the soft dark hair and kissing him tenderly, wet and warm and gentle. He'd have said it was a sexless touch, made of something else entirely, until he realized he had one knee between Buck's spreading thighs, pressing the bedclothes up against the tender sac. His cock was firming against his friend's thigh, and Buck's was hardening against his own, and he had lost touch with what was going on in the room around him until he felt a solid punch land on his arm.

"What're you two doing?" JD demanded, and when Vin tore his mouth away from Buck's it was to find outraged brown eyes six inches from his face. "You can't just fuck beside a sleeping person like that!"

"This ain't fucking, kid," he said quietly. "This is just gettin' to know each other better."

He withstood another, harder punch on his arm. "Well get to know each other someplace private!"

"This was private," Buck muttered matter-of-factly, "until you woke up and started yelling."

"Damn it, Buck, Nathan's right over there, and I'm--I'm right here!"

"C'mon, JD," Nathan said, and Vin had to look to decipher the tone of his voice. Nathan's dark eyes looked uncomfortable but not angry, and that was all anybody could ask, for now. None of these men had lived in the wild, and while Nathan might've learned something about close quarters and everybody knowing everything in slavery, he was a free man now, and might need to rethink his ideas of privacy all over again. "Let's go get us some breakfast," Nathan went on, "leave them two to get to know each other without you staring at 'em."

JD shimmied out of the bed like it was on fire, and dragged on his boots and coat. "I can't believe either one of you," he said, clearly disgusted. Vin had already begun to tune him out, falling into the blue eyes that stared so happily up at him. Buck's breath was light and quick, matching his own. He barely heard JD storming out, but Nathan's sharp voice cut through his haze well enough.

"Vin, JD ain't half wrong. Buck's wore out, and you better really just be getting to know each other. Don't you let me find out you did nothin', you hear me?"

Buck rolled his eyes, and Vin giggled when the door closed behind Nathan. "You got yourself enough minders there, Bucklin?" he teased, knowing Buck would rather be anywhere but a sick bed. "He's right you know," he went on, kissing Buck again, loving the dark wet heat, the soft give of that full, expressive mouth and the odd, delightful brush of whiskers. "You're still beat up pretty bad, and I didn't come over here to start nothin'."

Buck pushed his hips up, and Vin felt again the hard outline of cock covered by bedclothes. "Well too bad for you then, 'cause you already did."

Buck's arm curled around his neck, tugged him down, held him gently while they kissed. His tongue lapped inside Vin's mouth like a cat at a water dish: with a purpose. After an endless moment Vin pulled away, breathless.

"You remember, when all this started out at Chris' shack, you said part of the reason you went with so many ladies was 'cause you liked the closeness, and sex was a way to get it?"

"Yeah."

"You ain't got to do that to get it from me."

"I'll remember that right after you fuck me," Buck said, humping up again with single-minded determination.

Vin shook his head, stifling soft laughter. Right now, it was all so new, so intriguing, so damned arousing, he supposed it might take some time for things to settle down. But he was pretty experienced where Two-Bloods were concerned, and had other ideas about what sex would or wouldn't happen over the next few weeks. "I think you're the one gonna need to do some fucking soon," he breathed, "unless you really want to start tucking your tail every time any of us comes around?"

Buck, ever prepared for things physical, leered. "You offering, pard?"

The idea sent a thrill through him. "I reckon I will, when you can use both a' them hands to prop yourself up with."

"Well now," the big man said, all speculation and honey-voiced. Buck Wilmington, he decided, could convince him of anything, if he asked like that. "I can think of a couple of ways we could do it, and I wouldn't have to move a' tall."

Vin chuckled breathlessly. He could do that, with pleasure--could strip these covers back and strip his clothes off and slide down onto that glorious cock he'd seen drawn in the silver and shadows of moonlight... and he could run faster than Nathan, and would have to, if the healer came back in the middle of it. "I could," he agreed, wistful, "but I think Nathan would consider that doing somethin'."

Buck humped up beneath him again. "Nathan ain't here."

"Well, anybody could walk in," he reasoned, trying to steer Buck to something less strenuous. "If Chris was here, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself more. I ain't going to, neither."

The sparkle in Buck's eyes dimmed a little. "If Chris was here, I expect..." he trailed off.

Vin felt confusion scrunch up his face. "What?"

"He's been here and gone twice already, and he's scared to death of me." Buck dragged a chuckle up from somewhere. "Hell, you two'll be on each other, and..." the deep voice faded for a moment, then continued on with false heartiness. "Good thing for me I c'n enjoy watching. I reckon he'd let me stay around after awhile."

"Let you..." It was beyond Vin, how Buck could think like that; Chris Larabee was a son of a bitch, meaner than a snake, sure, but Chris used that meanness to protect his own--and to protect himself. It was what made him such a natural leader. It was what made him able to become the alpha for this new pack. That meanness wouldn't extend to intimate things, nor to love things. Vin couldn't imagine it, not from what he knew about his friend. "You think Chris'd neglect you? Then why'd you form this pack?"

One shoulder, the uninjured one, shrugged an inch. "Keep y'all safe."

Vin shook his head, awed and saddened at the same time. "He loves you more'n anything."

"Yeah, right," Buck deferred, his smile fading a little.

Vin thought he knew what had happened in the past to turn Chris mean on Buck, but not what held the habit once it had started. Because Chris could be incredibly, thoughtlessly harsh to most of them, and just that bit worse to Buck. Vin tilted his head, willing to bet his last dollar it had something to do with Buck's very nature. "I knowed him two days," he whispered, framing Buck's face with his hands, "when I told him about that bounty on my head. You knowed him twelve years and I expect he don't know nothing 'bout you at all. When that changes, he'll change. You'll see."

"Nah," Buck deferred, "there's too many memories, too much--" the sadness faded and that sparkle of life, of defiance of all the shit, lit in his eyes. "I reckon he knows plenty about me, and is getting ready to learn a thing or two about you," he said, and a weak smile tried to light on his face.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Vin didn't think for a second that Buck was ignorant of his own sensual powers. Hell, Buck had traded on them his whole life. And not for an instant could Buck have misunderstood their time in the canyon together. It had been passionate and hungry and satisfying down deep in his soul. That was lust and trust and affection between friends, and something more even, something that had surprised him. Vin had every intention of repeating it.

"Trust me," Buck said darkly, breaking in on his thoughts.

Vin had never seen Buck display self-doubt like this. Come to think of it, he'd never seen it in any Two-Blood, and he'd had some close friends in that other pack. Was this because Buck had been raised by a One-Blood, without a proper pack to support him?

Vin leaned down until the blue eyes went out of focus, and touched his nose to Buck's. "Trust me. You two have been family for years on years, and you're jumping at shadows."

Buck shifted uncomfortably, frowning. "How come we're wasting time when we could be doing it?" he finally demanded, eyes darting nervously around the empty room, and Vin gave in. For the moment. He couldn't see what there was for everybody to be scared about, but he looked at things a different way than the citified men he now called family.

"I'll bring you off," he promised, "if you just lay there and don't do nothin'."

Buck stared hard, his eyes measuring Vin's resolution, and Vin sighed.

"I want to make you feel good. And I want to feel good doing it. Nathan's right, I'm right, and you'll still get to come, so don't start complaining."

Buck subsided fast enough, and Vin pulled the sheet down, exposing all that naked flesh. Even banged up as he was, Buck was a sight for sore eyes. Vin's gaze skipped kindly over the dark bruises on belly and hips, and paused at the erection rising from its nest of dark, barely curling hair. He was caught by how it lay so still, so ready against the flat belly.

Sliding his clothed body up against Buck's naked one, he whispered, "You sure are beautiful, you know." He tongued along his partner's throat, paying repentant attention to the bite bruises he'd left two nights ago.

"I kept telling everybody that," Buck grumbled, but he was gentling down now, happily surrendering.

He shut the man up with his mouth, exploring with his tongue, defining the wide dark space into which he wanted to push his fingers, his cock... later. Now was for easy care. It took awhile to find a position that would do them both some good; Buck's right shoulder was aching and not to be leaned against; pinning his left arm hurt the gash and threatened to pull stitches; his stomach was too bruised for Vin to put much weight against it, and his ass was still tender enough that at first, he resisted lying flat on his back. Vin finally settled for skinning his buckskin pants down to his knees and kneeling in the vee of those long, muscled legs. Propping himself just right, he could keep most of his weight off Buck and still use his hand to gather them both up, to thrust between the rigid pole of flesh and his own gripping hand.

The way Buck's eyes rolled back in his head, he figured he'd found a method that worked. "Easy," he whispered, dipping his head down to let their mouths mesh. Still stroking and thrusting, he kissed down the stubbled jaw, feeling the sweat slicking between them, along their thighs and groins. This felt too good, and the thought of reducing this seasoned lover to mush made his own cock that bit more eager. Lord, how were they all going to keep from walking around with perpetually stiff dicks?

Buck whimpered then, and Vin decided he didn't care. He paid attention, bringing Buck close more than once, releasing himself entirely so he could focus on his goal. Buck liked his nipples played with, liked the hairs under his arms tugged. He liked his ears licked, his eyes kissed. He liked most every touch Vin could imagine and bestow. And like a contented dog, he just wriggled in bliss and silently begged for more. Finally Vin eased him up to the edge and over, squeezing that last bit tighter. When the groan of release slipped past a tight throat, Vin lifted enough to look down at his blurring hand, at the twitching hips, and at the white creamy seed that poured out between them. Buck shivered and just melted into the mattress, gasping for air. Hurriedly, just realizing how close he'd got watching that, he smeared his palm over the spunk on Buck's belly and used it to coat his own cock. He wrapped his hand around it, gave it a few slick pulls, and came before Buck's breath had even slowed, gritting his teeth to keep from shouting.

Well, that was real good, he thought, trying not to squash the injured man beneath him. It was hard to hold himself up though, as the tremors kept coursing out from his crotch in every direction. Half-heartedly he tugged his buckskins back up and dropped down against Buck's relatively uninjured left side. Buck's hand snaked into the back of his buckskins, palming his butt and squeezing none too gently. "Ouch," he mumbled, too sated to move.

"Figure I owe you," Buck whispered. "Nathan 'bout went crazy when he saw them teeth marks on me. Thought they was Chris'."

"Oh." He pushed his ass back against Buck's palm, making it easier for him, then remembered what Nathan had said about that gash on Buck's arm. "Ain't you s'posed to be letting that arm rest?" he asked blearily.

Buck chuckled and let go, and arched in a bone-creaking stretch that went all the way to his toes, from the sound of it.

"Where is Chris, anyway?" Vin thought to ask. "I figured he'd be around here somewhere."

"He was. Went out to his shack last night, came back before dawn." Buck chuckled. "Then he turned around and went straight back out, as far as I could tell. He don't know which end's up right about now. We better watch him a'fore he rides off a cliff."

"Mmnnn." He wasn't much surprised. Like Buck, he understood Chris, understood that maybe Chris was the one who'd have to change more than any of them.

"Maybe you ought to ride out there and check on him, make sure he's all right."

"He's fine, Buck." Chris needed to be alone sometimes, to think things through; Vin shared that need. But Buck, true to his animal nature, wouldn't see any point in being alone. Life must've been even harder on him, after his mother was gone.

"I'm just saying," and now the big hand stroked gently up his side, feather-light, almost tickling his skin into new arousal, "it won't hurt nobody none if you just ride out there and check on him."

Vin got to the point. "I ain't in no hurry, Buck. Chris ain't goin' nowhere. And he's got more on his mind than just sex, even if you don't. Him and me, we'll get there sooner or later."

He could hear the frown in Buck's voice. "Something wrong with getting there sooner?"

The fact that you're talking like the minute he touches me he won't look at you no more? he wanted to say, but wisely held his tongue. Buck and Chris had things to work out, and if this pack was going to knit itself together like a true pack should, then their Two-Blood and his alpha needed to come to a better understanding.

"I don't know that sooner's better," he said, trying to muffle a yawn. "There's somethin' to be said for anticipation, ain't there?"

Buck's body shifted subtly beneath him, and then that quiet, breathy voice teased at him. "He's real good in bed," Buck whispered.

Offended by the ploy, Vin planted his hands in the middle of Buck's chest and pushed himself up. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded. Buck's eyes flickered nervously, and before he opened his mouth on a lie Vin grated, "This is Pack business. Don't feed me horse shit just 'cause you're scared."

Buck's mouth firmed, and his eyes hardened. "I hate anticipating," he snapped. "Anticipation leads most times to pain. And when y'all two get together, things'll change. I don't want to get used to something that's gonna go away soon."

Aww, Buck, he thought, his heart near aching with tenderness. How badly had One-Bloods hurt him throughout his solitary life? How badly had Chris hurt him, that he had initiated this pack with so little faith? Vin bent down and touched his lips to Buck's, trying to reassure him. Two-Bloods, they instinctively expected certain things from their pack mates, and Chris, in ignorance, had failed Buck miserably.

But that was before. Now, Chris understood more about what his obligations were. Hell, that was why Chris kept moving back and forth between Buck and his shack like a duck in a shooting gallery. But Chris wouldn't hide from his responsibilities for too long. And Vin wouldn't let Buck hide, either. "I ain't gonna let you hide behind me, Buck. Like it or not, you're the center of this, 'cause you're the only Two-Blood we got. You and Chris, you're gonna work things out before I do more'n ruffle his hair, you understand me?"

The hard look in Buck's eyes changed, shading into a deep, distrustful wariness. A slow smile crept out. "You think you can tell me what to do, Vin?" he asked, his voice friendly, cool. Deadly.

"Nope," he answered placidly. "I just don't think you c'n tell me what to do neither. So you ain't gonna order me to go and fuck Chris. And if you never said another word about it, it'd be too soon."

Buck looked away and sighed, long and slow. "Why can't anybody make things easy for me?" he grumbled, his tight-strung body relaxing a little. It was a move of surrender, and Vin accepted it gracefully.

"I don't know," he said lazily, smiling. "I think I just made that sex purty easy for ya." He settled a little deeper into the mattress, right on the edge of dozing off. He hadn't slept all night, too filled with joy to settle down. He'd just stared at the hunter's moon until it dropped below the horizon, then walked the silent streets.

The quiet settled like cotton into his brain, then Buck was saying something else, about guilt and grief and horniness maybe, but Vin was already dropping into dreams. He was a wolf, tan like his own skin, running along the edge of the river north of town. He preyed on mules and rabbits with bad teeth and side arms. It was a good dream.

CHAPTER 3

Chris spent the morning on his porch in a foul mood, polishing his gun and glaring out at the rutted path that led up from town. If anybody not one of his men came over that hill, he'd beat the shit out of them and send them running. A man had a right to privacy, it was why he'd built this house in the first place.

But when the sun hit its high point and no one had come by, he found himself anxious for company and headed back to town, feeling like ten kinds of a fool. Maybe, if asked, he could convince someone he was riding a perimeter.

At the livery, he hitched his horse to the corral fence then climbed the stairs slowly, silently, no more sure of what to say now than he'd been the other two times. But he was more prepared now, more ready to face Buck, JD and Nathan with the honesty they deserved.

He wasn't prepared for the sight of a rumpled Vin and an obviously naked Buck curled up together alone. Quietly he pulled the door to and moved to a straight-backed chair on the porch, forcing himself to breathe again. How many permutations were there, with seven men? Buck and any one of them, that made six; Buck and any two of them, that was fifteen more, wasn't it? Buck and any three of them... his mind began to spin. Only thing he couldn't imagine right now was Buck alone.

The door snicked open and Chris heard the light tread of bare feet stepping out onto the landing. He didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Chris?" Buck greeted, a question in his voice.

"You should be in bed," he said quietly, forcing his voice to stay calm.

"I got to get to the outhouse anyhow," Buck replied, ever practical. "I ain't making Nathan carry out my shit when all that's wrong with me is a banged up shoulder."

Chris looked up the long, lean body, eyes pausing where he knew bruises lay beneath the trousers, pausing again at the rumple of bandages under the left shirt sleeve, and the unused sling hanging from his neck. "You know what's wrong with you?" he hissed, barely keeping his voice down. "You got something wrong in your head. You're a lunatic. That's what's wrong with you."

Buck's eyes narrowed, and he rolled his head sideways in a fashion that was distinctly more animal than human. Chris had seen it a thousand times before, and never understood it for what it was. "What do you want, Chris?" he asked, smiling slightly, and Chris had the unwieldy impression of himself as a little calf, mooing at a mountain lion.

"I want you to tell the fucking truth and stop hiding everything behind that shit-eating smile," he admitted, feeling the anger well up, and while he tried to control it, it was like trying to ride a whirlwind. "I want you to tell the truth like you didn't for twelve years, Buck, like you didn't in the face of my family, and my home I opened to you, and all those times before and after."

"All right," Buck snarled, shocking Chris by pouring out everything on a wave of soul-deep anger. "All right, here's the truth; I'm busted up, I'm half useless, my belly aches, my ass is sore and the only thing I got holding me together is you all, but I can't even count on most of you."

Chris snapped his eyes up, caught the crackle of barely-checked rage in familiar blue as Buck plowed on.

"Josiah's probably trying to talk his way out of hell fire. JD's blushing every time he sees one of the others near me but he's still scared I'll disappear if he don't stay close, so I got to worry about that even though I can't do nothin' about it. Nathan, he's thinking I don't know what. You can't stay in a room with me for five minutes, so I feel like shit, but you can't stay away long so I feel relieved, and I feel like a fool for feeling relieved 'cause you don't want to be here. I'm scared of how, or if, everybody's gonna deal with the things that come next."

He barely paused for breath. "You're telling me you're pissed off because I didn't confide in you back then, when you don't know nothin' about my reasons and you for God damned sure didn't give me reason to trust you with something like this. And I think you're pissed off because you opened that door and saw Vin and me layin' there, and you're too afraid to admit it. But hell, pard, you want the truth from me, then that's all that matters!"

Chris saw Buck physically pull himself up short, heard teeth bang against teeth as Buck clamped his jaw shut on whatever he might have said next. Buck's cut and bandaged left arm came up to cradle his swollen and stiff right.

"It ain't all about you, Chris," Buck finally breathed into the lengthening silence.

"It ain't all about you, either," he replied carefully, tempering his voice. Plenty of what Buck had said was right on the money, but Chris didn't have to like it. He clasped his hands between his knees, staring down at his left hand and seeing the empty space where his wedding ring used to be. "It never was about just one of us." This really wasn't the time for remorse or self-destruction, he decided, though he dearly wanted to crawl into a whiskey bottle and stay there until people who turned into animals went right back into fairy tales and Indian legends, where they belonged.

He looked up and up, finding Buck's eyes and reading everything in them: the pain, the fear, the need, the regret. The connection between them was palpable, always had been from the first time they'd met. Sometimes that feeling had made him need Buck, and sometimes it had made him hate the man. But it had never faded.

He tried to make light of it, to make it manageable somehow, and forced a half-smile. "Is Ezra taking bets on who you'll be sleeping with next?"

Buck, thank God, chuckled, genuinely amused. "He can't hardly announce the rules, now can he?"

"Might be the easiest way to introduce this pack thing to the town; get it over with."

Buck snorted. "And you called me crazy."

"Yeah, well," he temporized, the smile feeling more genuine on his face, "it takes one to know one."

The man who stood so tall and proud beside him--and who had stood beside him when no one else had been able to suffer the job--had been too close to death yesterday. Maybe all of them had. There was no certainty in his mind that the Red Stone Pack wouldn't come back, given what they thought of mere men. There was no certainty that this thing birthed between them all could survive the light of day, or hide from the prying eyes of this town. The townsfolk were, in their way, sheep that he didn't know very well and cared about in only the most general of fashions. They were also a mob waiting to happen, if anyone got wind of seven men fucking each other or one of them shape-changing into a wolf. He imagined a huge gray pelt on someone's cabin floor, and his skin went clammy and cold with fear.

"What?" Buck asked, instantly alert to the change in him.

Chris looked up, staring into those intently focused, familiar eyes, and wondered if he had ever, even once, told the man how much he cared. "Nothing. Buck, I--"

Boot heels from inside Nathan's room brought him up short, and he steeled himself to see Vin. Fully dressed down to his boots, Vin looked like he'd slept the sleep of the innocent. "Howdy, cowboy," he said, parking his hip on the railing and nodding at Chris. "Buck, ain't you s'posed to be actually using that sling?"

Buck dropped gingerly into another chair. "I'll use it to strangle the next man who tells me to use it," he challenged, but he was grinning while he said it.

"Well," Vin said mildly, smiling, "as long as you use it for somethin'."

Those two were so easy with each other, Chris observed, wondering what was wrong with him. But then, Vin knew all about these wolf people, all about Two-Bloods. He kept telling himself that with a little time and learning, he'd be as easy with it, but frankly he couldn't even imagine that kind of intimacy anymore. It scared him more than gunfights, and far more than the thought of dying. Then Buck reached out and rested a hand clumsily on his shoulder.

"Chris can't get his brain to shut down, Vin," Buck said lazily. "Think you can help him out, there?"

Vin's eyes got big, and he let out a whoop of laughter, shaking his head. "You never quit, do you," Vin taunted. "Chris don't need my help for anything, right now. Chris needs more help from you, I reckon."

"I'm sitting right here," Chris grumbled, guessing what they were talking about. "And I'll tell you both right now, I don't need no help at all."

He jerked away from Buck's touch, discomfort driving him to his feet. "I'm going back out to my place." The look in Buck's eyes was anxious and eager and tired, and Chris glanced down at the busy street before reaching out a gentle hand. "I won't be gone long." They frightened him, these touches and how very important they seemed to be. It frightened him more, how he could look at Buck and see him again with such love, look at Vin and feel real desire, like the last few years hadn't happened at all. But they had, and old hurts rode right alongside all the older, higher feelings. They needed to work themselves out in his head.

Buck smiled, and then Chris thought of Buck's dizzying kisses, and figured he wouldn't have any trouble getting it up the next time they were together. When would that be? Who would be there? Shit. He shivered, and nodded his goodbyes.

Vin watched Chris round the corner toward the stairs, smiling fondly and trying not to stare too obviously at the black-clad ass. Buck chuckled throatily, so Vin grinned, caught. It wasn't hard to adjust his thinking, to simply know that Buck would smell rut on him, or irritation or anger, without fearing the Two-Blood's knowledge. Buck always had known, after all.

It was comforting to be known, to be understood without words. "Think he'll manage to stay there through the night?"

Buck shook his head, looking down toward the street. Chris had already swung up on Pony and was riding out. "I'd lay odds he won't even get there."

Vin sighed, and smiled easily. "What were you doin' out of bed? Did Chris wake you up?"

"No. Had to go to the outhouse. Still do."

"Barefoot?" Vin didn't particularly like outhouses, didn't like the smell of lye or the flies, or the parasitic worms that concentrated near shit.

"Boots are still inside," Buck admitted. "Hurt too much to bend over, and I can't pull 'em on anyway."

"I'll get 'em," he offered, pushing off the railing. Buck would learn, soon enough, that he didn't have to do everything for himself anymore.

"Wish I could kiss you right now," Buck breathed lowly, as he moved past.

"Yeah," he said, pulling up short, "I know." He glanced sidelong at the man, witnessed the anxious longing in blue eyes that made him suspect that Buck really wished he could kiss Chris right now, that the Two-Blood sought assurances from the pack alpha that Chris couldn't yet offer. Leaning down, he grabbed a startled Buck gently around the ribs, tugging him up from the chair. "Lean on me," he whispered, laying an unobtrusive hand across the firm belly. "Let's get you inside and into your boots, pard, then we'll see about negotiating them stairs."

"I did do this once already you know," Buck griped, but he leaned heavily and stayed close. Once inside, Vin pushed Buck gently up against the wall and kissed him as long and as best he could, stepping away a little breathless. Those hot, honeyed kisses, he didn't see himself ever tiring of them.

Buck looked both reassured and rueful, and Vin complimented himself on a job well done.

When he dropped Buck off at the privy, he circled around to the saloon, the jail and the church, rounding everyone up. "Buck needs some company, drop by in the next little bit," was all he said, adding to Ezra, "Bring your cards. And a bottle."

Everyone but Chris showed up within an hour or so, and Ezra turned the foot of the bed into a makeshift card table. As the afternoon progressed, someone claimed that Josiah had God cheating for him, because he was winning consistently.

"I think God would need my assistance in this particular case," Ezra proclaimed mildly, and fanned the cards. "And I'm not giving it to Him."

Vin snickered, as much at Josiah's half-censuring frown as Ezra's irreverence, then watched as Ezra's eyes lifted and tangled with Buck's. It didn't take a Two-Blood to see the reaction; the flush that rose high on Ezra's cheeks was clear for someone who knew where to look. Vin sucked on his lips to keep from laughing out loud. The gambling in future, he figured, was going to get a lot more interesting.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

As dinnertime approached, JD volunteered to go with Vin to the restaurant and fetch for everybody. The special of the day was a part of their pay, and since meat was the main dish, Ezra would deign to eat it. JD ordered six meals and exchanged news with the proprietress, a plump woman in her forties who smiled almost as easily as Buck did.

"Good to know you've chased off all them strangers, JD," she said, resting a hand on her belly. "They were quiet enough, but there was just something not right about them."

"You can say that again. Nah, ma'am, I don't think they'll be giving us any more trouble."

"And you tell Buck I'm glad to know he'll be all right. You just set yourself down on the porch there, and I'll let you know when the meals are ready."

JD did as he was told, tipped his chair back on two legs and watched the street with Vin, thinking hard. Buck didn't seem different. But something was different. He just couldn't say exactly what. Vin at least, he seemed exactly the same, even after the way he had carried on this morning. JD still didn't understand it, still wasn't sure he wanted to understand it, but if Buck needed kissing, if Buck needed, well, anything, he knew with nail-biting, nerve-wracking certainty that he would be there for his friend.

"Bringing dinner up to Nathan's, it would've been easier to just haul Buck down, don'tcha think?" he asked, to pass the time.

"Nah JD," Vin said, sounding peaceful, "he needs some privacy right now, I reckon."

JD frowned. "Well he ain't got none of that, not with all of us crammed up in there."

He watched Vin glance carefully around before saying casually, "Privacy with us. Settling in time."

"Oh." JD could understand that, too. He'd known last night that he wouldn't sleep a wink if he couldn't feel Buck, alive and hot and breathing, beside him. Maybe Buck was feeling some of the same thing. Maybe that was all that was different.

"And he is banged up," Vin went on. "He needs his rest."

JD had had enough of resting. He was nearly bouncing in his chair, he had so much pent up energy. He'd slept long and hard, wandered around only a little when Nathan had dragged him out of Buck's sick room this morning, and plopped squarely back into his place along Buck's left side when Vin had said they could return.

He scanned the street, almost hoping for a fight to break out so he could get in between it. Mary Travis, across the street, spied them and made a beeline toward them. "Vin, JD," she greeted. "How is Buck today?"

JD jumped to his feet and tipped his hat, ignoring Vin, who chuckled from his chair. Vin hadn't been raised civilized; if JD had let a woman talk to him while keeping his seat, his ma would have whipped him but good. "Buck's doin' real good, Mrs. Travis," JD offered. "We've been keeping him company."

"Reckon he's goin' stir crazy up there," Vin added, his voice mild. "You can imagine, Buck don't think he's sick as long as he's still conscious."

She tittered that womanly laugh she had, and nodded approvingly. "I thought I'd stop up again later and wish him well."

Suddenly nervous, JD looked to Vin for guidance. Somehow he didn't want Mrs. Travis up there with all of them. Vin smiled a little, said, "You don't mind, Mary, we'll just give him your regards until tomorrow. He got banged up in some pretty private places, and now he's awake he's skinned off most of his clothes. He ain't hardly decent, not that he is even full dressed, mind. But I think you'd embarrass him, the way he respects you."

She nodded understanding, and it was all JD could do not to let his jaw drop open at the pack of lies Vin had just spouted. But it was a good lie for the pack, and it would do its job; Mary Travis would keep others from intruding on them, at least until tomorrow. She nodded her goodbyes and glided back across the street.

JD was just about to sit back down when he spotted Chris' horse riding in. Hadn't he left for his shack, well, a couple of times already? Reaching backward, he waved his hand until it hit some part of Vin. "What's he doing, coming back? I thought he'd gone off for the day."

Vin, behind him, chuckled a little. "I s'pose he needs a little 'privacy,' too." When Chris was ten or so feet away, Vin called out "Hey Chris, you reckon I ought to get you a fresh horse, 'fore you wear that one out going back and forth some more?"

Chris dismounted, his teeth flashing in anything but a smile. "Very funny. Where is everybody?"

"We're all up in Nathan's room, keeping Buck company," JD offered, standing up a little straighter. "Except Vin and me are getting dinner to carry back up." Chris looked a little peaked, now that JD looked more closely. "Ezra brought up some cards, you know. And I been teaching Vin some words."

"What words?"

"Reading words," Vin put in mildly, and JD watched with interest as Chris' eyes widened. "I told 'em, Chris, so I figure I'll be reading better'n you can, by the end of the month."

Chris laughed out loud, and JD realized he didn't think he'd ever heard that sound before. "That's what you get for opening your mouth, Vin," he said, in that way both friendly and nasty.

Mrs. Tipper came out at that moment to tell them their meals were ready. Chris turned his horse toward the livery. When JD climbed the stairs five minutes later and pushed Nathan's door open, balancing stoneware plates and cutlery in a wooden box, he found that Chris had taken over his space on the bed next to Buck, and that Buck was half-leaning against him, a drowsy smile on his face. JD opened his mouth to complain, but Vin managed to elbow him without dropping any of the filled serving dishes.

"Hush now, JD." He looked up, caught the warning in Vin's eyes, and while he didn't understand why he should get ousted from the most comfortable seat, beside the person he most wanted to sit with, he kept his mouth shut.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Josiah quietly observed his six friends, awed and humbled anew by the mystery of Creation. This was a communion of sorts, surely no more or less important to these men than the last supper had been to Jesus. As Vin filled plates and passed them out, the cards disappeared. Buck and Chris straightened up and tucked their legs Indian style, and JD reasserted his rights by sitting down on the edge of the bed in front of Chris' folded legs and lying back across the middle bed in front of the pair. On his back, he tilted his head enough to catch Buck's eye and frowned; that boy had no sense of timing, Josiah thought fondly, but he sure did know what he wanted. That was more than some of them could say at this point.

Chris surprised Josiah by taking a filled plate from Vin and setting it squarely on JD's legs. "And if you spill it, you'll clean it up," Chris warned harshly. The tone was no more or less harsh than any other day, and for that Josiah offered up a silent prayer of thanks. Chris was more discombobulated than any of them; he bore more responsibility for all of this, and even before Buck's blood relations had arrived in town, tensions had been shifting and eddying around him. Chris had preened toward the attention of his friends, but all unconscious--the power of a man's will to ignore a truth that stared him in the face was another of God's great mysteries. After his extended period of mourning, Chris was definitely waking from that long sleep. And the prickles and pains of cut-off circulation to his heart would make themselves known to everybody. Of that, Josiah had no doubt.

JD propped on his elbows while Ezra rearranged the straight-backed chairs along the bed. Ezra's chair, Josiah noted, was just to Buck's right, and the plate he held would easily feed two. Dismayed, Josiah realized for the first time that Buck might be spread a bit thin, the next few weeks. And as for what others of their pack might want to get up to... it didn't bear thinking about. Vin took a chair behind Ezra and set his plate just beside JD's elbow with a far gentler warning and a pat on the boy's shoulder, and Josiah's dismay increased ten-fold. Buck, sitting right in the middle of the attention, made a single, tiny whuffing sound, a clearly identifiable dog-sound of satisfaction and comfort. He fancied if he maneuvered up beside Buck and petted his head, the man's too-friendly tongue would loll out.

Or worse, the man would lick his hand, or some other piece of him, and who knew what that would lead to? He temporized, reminding himself vigorously that Buck had gone for years without the opportunity to reveal his innermost nature to anyone. When he heard an imitation of the sound from Vin, he looked sharply across the bed. Vin, grinning, was staring straight into Buck's startled, smiling eyes; this must be more Two-Blood etiquette that Vin already knew. Would they all learn it soon, a whole new language Buck would teach them? What else would they be required to learn, from Buck and from each other?

He had his own changing to cope with, he decided, hooking a chair with his boot and dragging it from the end of the bed around to its left side, where Nathan sat. Nathan, tucking into his food, made quiet conversation about the near future, about the townspeople, about how good and strange this all felt, and about the fact that they'd need to think of some way to protect this union. In between the optimistic ponderings, Nathan muttered editorial criticisms about some men's baser natures and a general need for people to rein in their dicks. That wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

JD looked over to where Josiah and Nathan sat, heads down over their plates. Glancing around himself, he realized too late that he couldn't eat from his new vantage point. "Hey, what about me?" he demanded, and right on cue, his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten lunch, too preoccupied with, well, things, and the smell of all this good cooking was making his mouth water.

"What about you?" Chris countered, unconcerned.

He looked up. "I gotta eat, you know."

Buck's bare toe jabbed him in the ribs, and he nearly squirmed, catching himself just in time to keep Chris' plate from sliding off his thighs. "You ain't gonna die if you miss a meal," Buck announced.

"Easy for you to say, you ain't never missed one," he groused. "C'mon, let me up, I'm starving here."

He turned his head to watch Ezra neatly pick up a chunk of beef and hold it out to Buck's lips. Buck stared down all superior and self-satisfied, showing his teeth as he lapped up both the sustenance and the attention. His eyes sparkling, he said all too plainly, "Guess you ain't smart enough to get yourself taken care of."

JD held himself perfectly still, sensing Vin's plate an inch from his elbow and feeling the warmth of Chris' just above his knees. "Well, if I let everybody do what you let us all do, somebody'd probably feed me too," he said darkly, furious.

Buck looked shocked, then burst out laughing; JD listened to varying echoes of laughter from the other members of the pack, and preened to have scored so successfully with that dig.

"You sayin' you're that hungry, JD?" Vin asked, and he glanced over, still grinning, to collide with amused speculation in the tracker's eyes. His stomach dropped and rolled, and he swallowed nervously.

"No! Uh, well, um, I mean, no, I mean--" Buck's deep, rumbling laughter--at his expense--sounded to his left, and a toe stuck him again. He couldn't stop the flinch this time, jumpy as he was.

Chris smacked his knees for him. "What did I tell you about spilling my plate?" he warned again.

"But I--"

"Well, JD?" Vin went on, smiling softly and looking altogether too knowing. Fingers touched the back of his neck, began carding through his hair. "You that hungry?"

He felt like he was a rabbit staring at a snake, mesmerized by Vin's gaze. It was terrifying, and the idea of Vin looking at him like that, like he was a prime side of beef--Buck hadn't even looked at him like that, and if Buck had he'd probably have run a mile.

Thank God, Josiah saved him. "Ease off, Vin, before you scare him into thinking you're serious."

Vin's eyes brightened, turned friendly instead of lustful, and he chuckled a little. "Sorry, kid. Here, I'll feed ya--and you don't have to do nothing for it. You helped carry up dinner, I s'pose that earned you some of it."

"Damn right it did," Chris said mildly, and JD smiled weakly at the support from their leader. "Buck's the one didn't earn his dinner tonight, layin' around lazy as an old dog," Chris went on, then shoveled a forkful of peas into his mouth.

JD felt a tap on his cheek and, turning, nearly poked himself in the eye with a piece of potato Vin was waving on the tines of a held-out fork.

"Oh, I reckon I earned my keep when I ran those bastards off, Chris," Buck replied, his voice so self-satisfied.

"Yeah," Chris said, and JD felt a strangeness inside him at how soft that voice was. "Yeah, I reckon you did." Wanting to witness that feeling on the hard man's face, JD turned his head, to find that Buck had leaned over and was kissing Chris squarely on the mouth, right there in front of everybody. And Chris wasn't pulling away.

All this sex stuff made him nervous. It embarrassed him beyond belief. Okay, it scared him to death. It was different somehow from the pure comfort and safety of knowing someone was alive by feeling it through your skin. And like this, in front of everyone--he didn't know what to do.

Vin solved his problem for him, punching him lightly on the shoulder and waving the loaded fork in front of him again. "Here," Vin said matter-of-factly, angling the fork so he could stretch his neck up and get the bite. Vin was practical and casual, feeding him. There was no suggestion of anything other than one person helping another get sustenance down his gullet, and JD relaxed by degrees.

Nathan, watching all the interplay, saw that Buck's arm had dropped casually over Chris' thigh, that Ezra's eyes had strayed to Buck's arm and stayed there, that Chris hadn't told Buck to move it, and that JD had turned his face completely away from the scene, concentrating on the food like it held the secrets of God in there right along with the salt and pepper. He glanced to his left, where Josiah ate quietly, his thoughtful eyes focused on the bedspread.

He was going to have himself a talk with Vin, Buck and Ezra just as quick as he could. Those three were the troublemakers, the horny toads in this particular pack, and he knew with creeping unease that Ezra would be sniffing after Chris any day now, that Vin already was, that Buck was doing more than sniffing--and that none of those three had a moral conscience to speak of. Best somebody more level headed talked to them, warned them that they weren't acting themselves, that at this rate they'd give themselves away to the townsfolk before the week was out. And that that would get every one of them killed.

It occurred to him belatedly that any one of them might start sniffing around the rest of the seven too, that Vin, in his usual quiet, unthreatening fashion, had just now, right in front of him, sniffed at JD. Hadn't he? Or had he truly been fooling around?

Very soon, he'd have that talk, if not for the sake of the three men, then for JD's. He suspected that JD hadn't even thought about sex with any of the others. Equally, he suspected that that was pretty much all Ezra, Buck and Vin were thinking about. He shook his head, barely hiding his disgust; suddenly this reminded him too much of the thoughtless rut he'd witnessed in the few Negro breeding studs he'd seen in his youth, and he wanted no part of it.

"Nathan?"

He jerked his head up to Buck, who wore a tiny, concerned frown, and realized he had hidden nothing. "This ain't right," Nathan said firmly, quietly. "The way y'all are acting, it ain't right."

Josiah to his left said quietly, "It'll work itself out, Nathan. We trust every one of these men, and now we'll trust that God's grand design will reveal itself, in time."

Buck's frown softened into sadness, and his hand left Chris' leg. Vin sobered, as did Ezra, who lifted his eyes to Nathan's and revealed a vulnerability that was still shocking. Chris went back to eating, and with the changed atmosphere, JD finally relaxed.

Nathan scowled at his food. God's grand plan didn't include men who changed into wolves, did it? And if so, men who changed into wolves teaching everyone the pleasures men weren't to share with another couldn't fit into that pattern. Could it? It was a subject for much soul-searching, and he decided that if Buck didn't need him tonight, he might take himself to the sanctuary of Josiah's church and be alone for a while.

CHAPTER 4

Vin figured he could read the room nearly as well as Buck, and that the slight rounding of Ezra's shoulders was a blatant admission of discomfort, while Buck's hand twitching empty in his lap was its own censure of its heart's desire. He cleared his plate by feeding its contents bite by bite into JD's mouth, reminded of a mama bird taking care of her young, then he stood up.

"Anybody rode, lately?"

"Chris has," Buck said, with forced cheer. Vin smiled back, helping out.

"So we know his shack ain't filled with thieves, then. I think maybe I'll make a circle, see if anything's off with the rest of the area."

Chris said, "I'll--" and cut himself off, self-conscious. Vin glanced from under his lashes at Buck, who was shaking his head in stubborn irritation.

"Go, Chris," Buck urged. "The ride will do you good."

"I expect he's put twenty miles on Pony already," Vin said good-naturedly. "'Sides, Chris, you look plumb wore out. When was the last time you got any sleep?"

Chris shrugged and looked away, his face as still as a lake.

"That's what I thought. You ain't slept since before all this started, have you?" Chris didn't even turn, so Vin looked toward Nathan and Josiah. "Y'all want to ride out with me, just in case any of them Red Stones are still sniffing around?"

JD's eyes rounded and, sideways as he was, it was a weird effect. "They wouldn't!" he yelped. "They can't!"

"Can't's an awful big word, JD," Josiah said quietly. "Nathan?" Josiah asked, glancing over before finishing, "Nathan and me will go with you, Vin."

"Much obliged."

"They won't come back, not now at least," Buck said slowly. "With John busted up like he is, they wouldn't leave him."

Just like none of this new pack seemed able to leave Buck for long, banged up as he was. Vin felt a swelling in his chest, warmth flowering out through his middle. He had longed for that feeling since his mother passed, all through his alone years, his lean years, his time with the various tribes who could understand him but still not quite call him kin. And here he had found it, in the unlikely shape of a long, tall cowboy whose rugged good looks, laughter and kisses could charm the leaves off a tree, and in the four other men who had already given their loyalty to Chris Larabee before they'd ever heard of Two-Bloods or packs or alphas. Now they'd all given themselves over openly to Buck's care and, in a new way, to each other's.

He stuffed the feeling down, afraid he'd cry or something equally humiliating, and turned his thoughts back to the ride around the edges of this widely spread community. "JD, you been cooped up all day; you want to come with us?"

"Hell, yes! If any of them other Two-Bloods is sniffing around out there, I want to know about it."

"If any of that pack's out there, you'll stay out of trouble, is what you'll do," Buck ordered. Vin laughed as Buck's forearm landed solidly across the middle of JD's chest, forcing an 'oof' out of the boy. "You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you," JD grumbled, rubbing at his breastbone.

"Vin?"

He looked back to Buck, whose eyes were dark and serious, as wolf-like as Vin had ever seen them. "Yeah?"

"You know what to do if you run into any of them, right?"

He shrugged, rising to his feet and collecting plates all around. "I reckon I'll tell 'em to get the hell off our territory, or talk to Chris."

"Yes. And if one gets within ten feet of any of you, shoot him."

Josiah spoke up, his voice serious and quiet. "You really think that would help matters?"

Buck just barely restrained a growl--Vin could see it caught behind the strong set of his jaw. "I can jump ten feet, easy, if I start the change. If one gets closer than that and he ain't on a horse, he could kill you before you could even draw."

Vin nodded, resolute. "He ain't kidding, boys. An angry Two-Blood ain't to be messed with." A thought occurred to him. "Anybody besides Buck got themselves a bath since yesterday?"

"I did," Chris said.

"You needn't even ask me that question, need you, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked dryly, and Vin barely suppressed a chuckle.

Nathan shrugged. "I ain't, yet."

"Nor I," Josiah said, "though I did wash."

"JD?" Vin asked, watching his upside down face.

JD flushed slightly, frowning. "No. But I washed too."

Vin looked to Buck. "You reckon, if there's another pack around somewhere, your scent on us'd make 'em investigate, or steer clear?"

Buck looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. Their pack hadn't been formed long enough for any kind of word to get around, so for a time they'd be relying on scent marks and cohesion. "They might cross your path, but I expect they'd listen when you told 'em to leave. But the closest other pack I know of is almost three days southeast of here, in Mexico."

"Well. Don't hurt to be careful."

"No," Buck said, and his voice was barely a whisper, so gentle and filled with emotion as his eyes took in each of them, "it sure don't." His gaze landed last on JD, softening even further. "Little brother," he whispered soberly, "we ain't fooling around here. You run into one of the Red Stone Pack, they'll be out for blood. You don't know what you're doing, and you can't take them yet. I'll teach you how, I swear it. But right now, you tuck your tail and you run, you understand me?"

"I understand, Buck," JD said, obviously resentful as he rolled up off the bed.

"Promise me."

"What?" JD glared around, all young wounded pride.

"Promise me. Swear you'll stay behind the others, and run if they tell you to."

"I ain't gonna swear I'll run, Buck, that's stupid," he said, his chest puffing out like a banty rooster's.

Buck was up off the bed in a flash, using his less injured shoulder to drive JD stumbling into the wall. His aggression was nearly violent, animal, his muscles rippling like water under all those bandages and naked skin. Vin was caught between sympathy for JD, and a wave of lust so strong, he ached with it. "You listen to me!" Buck growled. Then as quick as it had started, the aggression fell away, and Buck gathered JD up into a clumsy hug. Vin winced.

Buck had treated JD just like a cub--and scared the shit out of him in the process--and then realized what he'd done. Didn't take no Two-Blood to see that. It looked like JD had never had a correcting hand raised to him in his life, leastwise, not a man's, from the way he paled and froze; Buck would be lucky if the boy could even hear him, now. But Buck waited a minute before he started. Vin listened to everyone's breathing, in the shocked silence. Then Buck's whispered voice reached him.

"JD, if something happened to you because of what I've done, I couldn't live with myself. I couldn't do it. I ain't asking you to run for you, I'm asking you to run for me. Please."

Vin tilted his head, feeling that upwelling of emotion again when JD's arms rose hesitantly, then returned the embrace. "I swear," JD mumbled into Buck's broad chest. Then, more obstinately, "All right?"

Buck nuzzled down under JD's chin to get him to tip his head back, then kissed him gently on the mouth.

"Yeah, all right."

"You're gonna be trying to cut my meat for me or tell me my bedtime any minute now, I can feel it," he grumbled, trying to save face that he was too young to realize he hadn't lost. JD moved to retrieve his gun belt from the coat rack and buckle it on.

"I already cut your meat for you, JD, just now," Vin pointed out, to ease the tensions. All he received was a glare for his efforts. Vin moved to touch Buck's arm, looking upward when the big man swung around so as not to be distracted by all that bare skin. "C'n you still smell yourself on Chris 'n Ezra?"

Buck's eyes darted back to the bed, where the two men still sat. "Yeah, some. More on Chris than Ez."

Vin frowned, anxious without quite knowing why. "Maybe you want to mark him a little," he said under his breath.

Buck grinned suddenly, earthy and evil. "Maybe I do."

Vin sneered his disdain. "Oh, real funny. I'm serious here!"

"Yeah," Buck said, trying and failing to look sincere, "All right."

Vin nodded a goodbye toward Chris, who still sat unmoving on the bed. Ezra, sitting on its other side, looked up for the first time. There was something bruised in the green eyes.

Then Ezra licked his lips, said, "Am I to understand that I should remain behind? And do what, exactly?" His voice was even and smooth, but there was no question that he considered himself dismissed. Vin cursed himself silently. There was so much raw emotion between them all right now, so many baited traps waiting to shred one or more of them. So much of what had been private between them was out in the open now, and they were all vulnerable for it.

Ezra had exposed himself first and most. Yesterday morning in Chris' cabin, Ezra had claimed not only Buck, but his pleasure in doing it, revealing a secret he had kept from everyone and offering himself up for judgment before anyone else but Chris had brought themselves to do it.

Vin snuck a glance at JD and mentally sighed; the kid would just have to get used to the new way of things. He strode to the bed and took Ezra by the elbow, urging him to his feet. "I wanted you to stay here and be with them two," he said truthfully. "Chris is strung out on coffee and tension, and he ought to sleep."

Ezra's eyes measured him, obviously trying to decide if he was lying.

"You've taken all this real good, Ez, and I figure you or me, we can help the rest of 'em through the next little bit," he assured, as honest as he could be. "Chris, well, he ain't quite ready for everything, maybe. I expect he don't understand all the details yet." It was so strange, to just say the words like that. He felt like he was peeling his skin back and letting the gambler see underneath. As much as he liked Ezra, trusting him like this was still new.

At some point, as Vin listened to the clink of gun belts and the thump of boots on the wooden floor, he decided that words weren't enough. "Can I... that is, do you mind... aw hell," he muttered. They were nearly identical in height, so Ezra's shocked understanding didn't register until Vin was very close. But Ezra held his ground, and Vin pressed their mouths together softly, gently. There was a moment of stiff resistance before Ezra's agile fingers sneaked into his hair, and Ezra's equally agile tongue parted the seal of his lips in the most gentle and seductive of welcomes.

That was all the encouragement he needed; he sank into the offer, taken by the genteel touch of the pointed tongue, the heat of Ezra's body as they swayed into contact, the sweeping skill that made him want to forget about silly things like other packs and riding and defending the town.

"Aww, for the love of--would you cut that out?!"

JD. Of course. He broke away reluctantly, looking across at their gambler with new eyes.

"Just because I am far more discriminating than our mangy compatriot," Ezra breathed, that soft Southern accent like silk on skin, "doesn't mean I wouldn't welcome this opportunity to... get to know you better."

Vin just stared. JD had nattered on about this morning to anyone who would listen, obviously. Suddenly he felt like a bitch in heat, simmering for whatever looked in her direction, while Ezra stood there and managed to look prim and sober, like he'd just offered Vin a glass of tea. Vin looked to Buck for help, but the big man was just leaning against the wall where he'd released JD, observing them with unenlightened interest.

JD started complaining to somebody who might actually listen. "Josiah, what are them two doing that for? Is everybody going completely crazy around here?"

"Yeah, JD," Josiah said with a sigh, "I reckon they are. Let's go saddle up the horses."

Josiah walked out of the room and Nathan, thankfully, pushed JD out with him.

"I gotta go," Vin said, every cell in his body wanting to stay, now, and wrestle and nuzzle with his brothers.

"I understand," Ezra replied, mouth quirking in a familiar, ironic smile.

"I'll be back," he promised.

Ezra crossed his arms across his chest, puffing a bit and rocking back on his heels. "We'll be here."

Vin, shaking his head and rubbing absently at his lips, wandered out of the room. He had never been a man controlled by his bodily urges, and yet he could see the appeal, with all this banked-down heat making the air around Ezra and Buck fairly sizzle. Chris, poor bastard, was probably still too scared to take advantage of the opportunity.

CHAPTER 5

Chris watched Vin leave with a mixture of relief and dread. JD needed some exercise, and it wasn't likely any of the four who'd gone would accidentally trip onto each other's dicks while they were out there. He couldn't say that about the men left in the room, and he didn't know if that confused, angered or aroused him. All he knew with certainty was that if Vin had stayed, he'd have been less in control of the situation than he was right now.

The Red Stone pack had been in town for almost a week, and he didn't recall seeing any of them acting like breeding rabbits. "Buck?"

"Yeah?" Buck shook himself, then winced toward the shoulder joint he'd pulled out of its socket.

"Get back to bed, you're still hurt. And no leaping around like that until you're better."

Buck docilely did as he was told, and Chris was again struck by the possible benefits of this alpha business. Chris stayed exactly as he had been, sitting cross-legged, while Buck pushed his legs back under the covers and stretched out carefully beside him. Ezra, looking at a loose end, paced silently to the window and stared out. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable; it seemed Ezra had slipped away and into his own thoughts.

Chris was damned tired. He hadn't slept night before last because he'd wrung himself into a ball over Buck, trying not to think of what Buck had been out doing, trying not to worry over whether one or more of the Seven wouldn't be able to go through with it, and unable to avoid thinking about what might change. He hadn't slept last night, because he'd been on his damned horse going back and forth to his shack. And he hadn't slept today because he'd had too much on his mind.

Beside him, Buck stirred, obviously seeking a more comfortable position. Chris frankly couldn't imagine one, given that both arms, belly and ass were sore. Absently, he reached out and rested his hand in his friend's thick, dark hair, and was rewarded by more of that little noise Buck had made during dinner.

"I should've gone out with them," Buck mumbled.

"What?"

"They shouldn't be out there alone. They're right, if Red Stone pack came back..."

"If part of that pack came back, you'd be exactly useless to our boys," Chris said reasonably. "You can't raise your right hand as far up as your belt buckle, and can barely hold a gun in it anyway. You've got eight inches worth of stitches in your left arm, and Nathan says you don't keep it as still as you can, you'll damage that muscle that tore in there permanently. And after what you did night before last, I wince at the thought of you in a saddle. So don't start in on yourself, you hear me? You're exactly where you're s'posed to be."

Dryly, Buck replied, "Good to know I'm feckless and not disloyal."

"Goddamned right," he agreed, with feeling.

Buck shifted once, then again. Then several more times, by slow, inching degrees. Chris was reminded of the man practically circling on his mattress, looking for a way to rest his overtaxed body. By the time Buck's hand dropped seemingly by accident within an inch of Chris' crotch and stayed there, Chris was ready to jump out the window.

He felt the shift in his friend, and prepared himself. "'Member that señorita in Sonora," Buck began, his voice like a kitten trying to crawl into his lap. Yeah, Buck would crawl into Chris' lap if Chris let him. He'd done so plenty of times before.

"Yeah."

"Sure was an entertaining evening."

He pursed his lips, wondering if he should leave, slap Buck down, or find out what the hell was really going on. He stared down at the strong, long-fingered hand in his crotch. "You trying to distract yourself, is that it?"

"No," Buck said too quickly. Possibly even truthfully. Buck had plenty to be afraid of right about now, just as Chris did--more, probably, since Buck actually knew more about what was supposed to happen. The urge to reach for the physical comfort of sex was strong. It was just that Chris had trained himself not to, had got so used to not doing it unless he was paying for it that he wasn't sure he could start up again.

"Is this normal?" he finally asked, and looked down at his hand. It still carded through Buck's hair, all on its own apparently.

"What?"

He raised his hand up, frowned at it. "All this sex," he said bluntly. "Three days ago we were all friends and you were homicidal. Less than two days ago, you took every one of us." And by extension, every one of us managed to fuck you with no trouble to speak of. "You and Vin got up to something this morning. Ezra's feeding you from his hand like you're a treasure he's found--"

"He is," Ezra said quietly from the window. Chris jerked; he'd almost forgotten Ezra was listening to them. Ezra turned, arms crossed over his chest, looking sober and filled with integrity as he stared at Buck. It was, Chris realized, a look he barely recognized in conjunction with that face. "He is a treasure I could never have stolen, Mr. Larabee."

Chris wasn't in the mood for riddles, or Ezra's distracting, flowery speech. "You want to tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"He has been your loyal friend and ours; the last to judge and the first to forgive, as far as I can remember. He has defended us, supported us," and here his mouth quirked, "and now he has accepted us in an entirely new way--a way that, given his past, could have proved difficult or impossible, for most."

Ezra's eyes shifted from Buck to Chris, the gaze solid and unflinching. It surprised him, to see that solid core in Ezra Standish. He'd never been sure it was really there. "He is a treasure, Chris. And he has given us one, if we can but rise to be worthy of it."

Chris tried to remember if Ezra had ever called him by his first name, while Buck, beside him, released a long, slow breath.

"Come here, you," Buck said.

But Ezra stayed where he was, and Chris had no clue what the man was waiting for. He hated being caught with his pants down, in any sense of the phrase. Absolutely hated it. "You wanna try that again in plain English?" he growled. Buck, beside him, flinched.

Standish blew out a little puff of air, not quite laughter. "I'm saying that from what I've witnessed over our years in this town… good lord, years," he breathed, his focus shifting to the middle distance.

"Ezra," Chris growled a warning, and Standish shook himself.

"Ah, yes. I am saying that Buck, perhaps because of his very nature, loves us--all of us--more than any of us deserves."

"That's for damned sure," Buck threw in, heartfelt.

Chris ignored him. "And that's why he's fucking everything that moves?"

"I expect he has had neither strength nor opportunity to fuck anything at all," Ezra answered blandly, surprising Chris again by repeating the coarse word. "But that's doubtless why some of us are reacting the way we are. To be the recipient of such affection is exhilarating. The question isn't why we wish to touch him but why you, sir, do not."

Buck flinched again, and Chris didn't have to be a Two-Blood to recognize the sudden pain. Slowly, carefully, he returned his hand to Buck's hair. Oh, that was dirty, Ezra. And who were you aiming that at, him or me? 'Cause you probably just hurt him as much. "Nobody said I didn't," he said evenly, and Buck's head tilted into his stroking hand. But he hadn't actually done it, not for years, and wasn't that basically the same thing?

He would not be diverted, not with Buck in the room or downwind of him. "How does that explain you and Vin?"

"I shouldn't think that requires much explanation," Ezra said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Damn the man! "I have no answer for that, merely speculation," Ezra continued, sobering quickly. His eyes turned to the Two-Blood. "Buck?"

Buck cleared his throat, drew in a breath. Chris looked to him for illumination, but all the man did was exhale and scowl.

"Well?" he prompted, resisting the urge to poke him.

"Well." Buck's stomach muscles tightened and he sat up, then scooted toward the head of the bed, no easy or elegant a task under the circumstances. "I don't know," he finally grumbled. "Two-Bloods, like I said before, they're a physical lot. Sex, that's just one more kind of physical, generally."

"But we ain't Two-Bloods, Buck. We're only human."

Buck glanced over, looking vaguely guilty. "Yeah, but you're humans that're my family." Chris refused to shudder at the declaration. "And now you're saying you're a family, you've taken steps you never took before... I ain't been trying to make any of y'all mad, Chris. It's just, I feel like I've been half-starved all my life, and now there's this banquet I'm sitting at."

Ezra chuckled, drawing Chris' attention. The man hadn't moved, but his eyes had crinkled and warmed. "So you raise your well-crafted tools of seduction as another might lift a knife and fork, and you eat. You're gorging yourself on us, Buck. My my, what a picture."

"That it, Buck?" he asked, turning back.

Buck found something incredibly fascinating about a loose thread on the bedspread. "Guess so."

Chris had never in his life been a stupid man. He'd been led by his dick more than once, and by his pride, and by his heart. He'd been led by the man sitting beside him, and he realized, as their "alpha," he was going to have to let himself be led now. Buck hadn't been gorging himself, and maybe that was part of the problem. If what Ezra said was true, Buck had really just been staring at that food and salivating, and controlling himself as best he could, taking little bites here and there as somebody let him.

Chris bit the bullet, turning around on the bed until he could look directly into Buck's face, and consciously put his hand on his friend's outstretched thigh. "So what do you want, Buck?"

"Right now?" Buck scowled. "A whole lot more than I'm up to. I guess I could... We... Ezra's... and you've needed to put your head down for over a day. So anyway..."

The third time Buck dried up, Chris lost his patience. "God damn it Buck, don't pussyfoot around. Tell me what the hell you want." His anger was trying to sweep in again; he had already decided to give his friend whatever was required, up to and including the roll with Ezra Buck had hinted at, and now the bastard wouldn't come out and say it. The suspense was making his head throb.

"Want you to get off some a' them clothes and lie down," Buck blurted, defensive. "Want you to hold me, and get some sleep. You need to stay sharp Chris, especially now." His eyes dropped to the bed and his voice quieted, in that way that made Chris think he was speaking straight up from his soul. "Want to feel your breath on the back a' my neck, so's I know exactly where and how you are." Buck's head tilted, his eyes tracking across the room to where Ezra still stood apart. "I want Ez to sit where you are now, so's I can reach him, if he don't want to stretch out too. That's what I want."

"That's it?" Chris managed, stunned. Here he had imagined debauchery beyond any past measure, with Buck and another man, a man he'd never even considered in that light, and Buck just wanted to sleep?

"Well, right now, yeah. I ain't up for much more, and frankly pard, I expect you ain't either." Buck looked at Ezra again, and chuckled. "And while ol' Ezra is ready for just about anything, he's too much of a gentleman to get his own unless the other person's along for the ride. Maybe later, Ez?" Buck asked, and Chris caught the wink that Buck threw, watched as Ezra tried and failed to resist smiling.

Chris shook his head at the simplicity of it. He'd have sworn Vin and Buck had set him up for some kind of Two-Blood sex orientation, one he had been more than ready to refuse. He'd have sworn that Buck, if given the opportunity, would demand fucking or sucking or, at the very minimum, his unalienable right to an orgasm. And what the horny bastard said he wanted was to be held while Chris got some shut-eye. He shrugged and twitched his head, completely out of control. "Ezra? That what you want?" he asked, trying to regain his bearings.

"Oh, I want far more than that, I assure you. But as an…appetizer, it will suffice."

Buck chuckled. Chris groaned. Then he stood up and rounded the bed, passing Ezra at the foot of it and trading a wary gaze for the gambler's ironic one. He stripped off his socks and stuffed them into his boots. He slid off his shirt and loosened his pants, and crawled under the covers behind Buck, who had hunkered down happily when he'd realized he was going to get what he wanted. Rolling onto his side and throwing an arm around his friend's middle, Chris tugged until Buck scooted back, pressed against him from shoulders to ankles.

Buck was bigger than him in every dimension. His arm rested heavily around the wider waist; his hipbones rested solidly against the most cushioned parts of the neat ass. The curve of Buck's right shoulder arched above his, wrapped as near to immobility as Buck had been able to tolerate. The warm, solid mass loomed before him; his to command, in times of need--as it pretty much always had been. His to protect, his to defend.

He was terrified.

But he took comfort in that big, reliable body, and pushed his nose into the soft, hay-smelling hair. Then he remembered Ezra. Lifting his head, he caught the gambler staring down at them both, the handsome face unguarded and filled with affection.

It wasn't the look he'd expected. It harbored no ill will, no disdain, no well-concealed jealousy. And when the green eyes shifted from Buck's face to his own, the smile only broadened. Indulgent, Ezra shook his head.

Chris closed his eyes, ill at ease. That was a friendly look if he'd ever seen one, and he'd seen plenty. But he sure as hell wasn't going to try to answer it now. Buck was right; he was so tired he was seeing cross-eyed. And as he wasn't completely sure what the question was, he had no idea what his answer would be.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Not much later, Ezra noted that Chris Larabee was deeply asleep, and that he had neglected his book in favor of watching the finger that twitched back and forth over the cap of his knee. In fact, he observed, he couldn't even remember what the damned book was about.

For some long minutes he had felt the intensity of Wilmington's gaze, but refused to look over, afraid that he would lose all sense of propriety or courtesy and simply rut against the man. He had lost himself the last time and he would not, he promised himself, do it again. He looked over now, no longer able to control his ever-more-rapid breaths, nor his rampant erection so dangerously trapped inside his trousers, to find Buck's eyes indeed on his face, serenely happy.

"He sleeps like a log, you know," Buck whispered. "I can't remember the number of times I rubbed myself with him laying just this close, and he never knew."

"Please don't make this harder for me."

"I don't think it could get any harder," Buck tried, undaunted. Then the sensual façade fell away, and Buck tugged at his trouser leg like a child.

Ezra sighed deeply, glancing over at the narrow crescent of Chris Larabee's face where it tucked in against Buck's neck, and resorted to honesty. It was becoming horrifyingly easy. "I believe, Buck, that if I fell asleep with you in my arms and woke to the sight of you in the service of another, I would be devastated. Don't ask me to do this."

Buck's eyes filled quite suddenly, but the tears did not spill. "Aw hell, Ez," he choked. "Just lie down with me."

That, he could do. Setting the book aside, he removed his cravat and vest, and tugged off his boots, setting them soundlessly on the floor. Cufflinks, he abandoned as well before sliding down beside the big man.

Immediately, Buck's wounded right arm lifted a few inches to reach for him, and he felt Buck's flinch. "Don't do that. I've had a shoulder dislocated, so I know what it feels like, and I would prefer you didn't remind me of the pain."

"Want to touch you," Buck confessed, sounding disconcertingly like a truant schoolboy.

Ezra, astonishing himself, understood. Starving man at a banquet, indeed. If Buck Wilmington could have convinced all six of them to pile on top of him until he couldn't move and could barely breathe, the man would have done so and gloried in it. Gently Ezra reached out, tracing his fingers over the strong, familiar planes of the man's face. "Don't move," he whispered, leaning in.

These kisses were different from those of two nights ago. Gentler, with far less lascivious intent, these kisses shared secrets and smiles and simpler things. Buck's once-playful tongue moved slowly now, languidly, his jaw setting its own rhythm of open and close, pause, pull away an inch, and begin again, under Ezra's cradling hand. He touched his fingers to the long hair that swept up and away from Buck's forehead, loathe to do anything that might disturb Chris. Their leader was indeed exhausted, and rest would give him new strength to cope with the dizzying changes occurring around them all. Ezra pulled back a moment, stared into Buck's brilliant eyes, brushed his fingertips over the damp, swollen lips. The heavy eyelids blinked half-closed, and a long sigh eased across the sensitive pads of his fingers. He fancied, staring across the narrow space that separated them, that Buck couldn't get any happier.

And it was because of them--in its small way, because of Ezra himself. His pride in that fact was staggering, and he leaned in again with close-pressed lips, promising silently to hold and keep this covenant. The soft slow sensuality of their time, instead of making matters worse for his trapped manhood, soothed him. And obviously it soothed Buck, as the kisses became sleepier. And sloppier.

Ezra smiled to himself and shook his head. Very, very soon, he was going to learn all manner of disgusting habits these people had. For the moment, however, carpe diem. He closed his eyes and dozed.

CHAPTER 6

Everyone had been silent while they saddled horses and mounted up. Everyone had been silent as they fell into line behind Vin. Everyone was silent until they crested the first low rise east of town, and then, quite suddenly to Vin's mind, everybody wasn't.

"What did you go and do that for? Kissing Ezra, what the heck were you thinking? -- Y'all three are gonna stir up all kinds of trouble, you don't watch yo'selves, now. -- JD, son, you've got yourself some growing up to do. -- Me? I didn't do anything wrong! -- The boy's right, and he got a right to be concerned. -- This isn't the time for judgment; it's a time for educating, and seeking wisdom."

It took Vin aback, that synchronized outpouring, everyone speaking urgently and right on top of each other. "Uh--"

"Education? They don't need no more education about this, that's for darn sure. -- He's right again, Josiah. -- Have we so quickly forgotten those exes we drew on them scraps of paper? We knew at least something of what might be involved before we marked them. -- But Buck never said anything about all of this ongoing, well (and Vin could hear the blush in the kid's voice), sex. -- I ain't forgotten I marked that x. But that don't explain Vin and Ezra, nor why we left Ezra back there with them two. In my room, mind. Lord knows what they're gettin' up to. -- Will we abandon our brother then, because the harvest of what we've sown looks different from what we thought?"

"It'd kill him," Vin said, cutting through the chatter like a knife. Every eye turned to him.

He reined in, stopping in the middle of the road, and swallowed down his flaring temper. Staring each of them squarely in the eye, he said, "Buck Wilmington has pulled himself through some awful scrapes in his past, more than any of us, I expect even more than you, Nathan. 'Cept for his ma he's most always been alone. He ain't never trusted nobody enough to even tell them what he was, and now he's not only told us, but taken us all in, and asked us to take him in--and we did. We pull out of this deal," he said flatly, "we may as well put a bullet between his eyes so he don't have to do it himself. Shooting him, instead of making him live through us leaving him after what we all promised, it'd be a mercy."

JD looked like he'd just swallowed a scorpion. "You're just saying that," he accused. "Buck would--besides, nobody said anything about leaving him! I'm not leaving him. And if you all will remember, I'm the only one who never has." Vin breathed a covert sigh of relief; JD's loyalty was something he knew he'd have to depend on, until the kid learned pack manners.

Josiah sat a little deeper into his saddle and turned his head toward the late afternoon sun. "I have some idea of the suffering Buck has endured," he said to the sky. "I'd sooner put a bullet in myself."

"I didn't say nothin' 'bout leaving neither, Vin," Nathan said, a sharp edge of accusation in his voice. "I never once said nothin' like that. But I do say we won't have to worry about him killing hisself if we get the whole bunch of us lynched afore hand. An' if y'all don't get a hold of yourselves, that's exactly what's gonna happen."

"Nobody's done nothin' they shouldn't have."

"You and Buck were lying there this morning, practically screwing each other like Nathan and I weren't even in the room!" JD squealed. "Then Buck and Chris were sparking at dinner!"

"Pack law's different from friends, JD."

"But Buck's the only Two-Blood. How come you're acting so strange?"

Vin wanted to answer, wanted to say that pack manners were more like Indian manners, more civilized in their way, more honest and true to a being's heart. He wanted to say it, but he was staring at Nathan's shuttered eyes, and he couldn't get his mouth to work.

"Why'd you have to do that?" JD blurted, and Vin realized he'd been quiet for too long.

"Do what?"

JD's nose wrinkled up like he'd just smelled a skunk. "Kiss Ezra."

"Why'd you have to distract me while I was doing it?" he countered mildly.

"Because it's wrong!"

"JD..." Josiah started, but then trailed off. Vin wondered what he might have said, wondered how Josiah truly felt about all this. He'd never heard no preacher say men lying with other men was all right, and while the Indians had their different, more natural ways, he didn't reckon he could count on Josiah to bless anything just yet.

"Why's it more wrong than kissing Buck?" Vin asked, hoping against hope that the kid would work through this on his own. The lesson would stick better that way. "You didn't have a problem with that."

"You have no idea," JD said forbiddingly, startling the hell out of Vin; just how inexperienced was JD? "Besides, we had to, with Buck."

JD said it like he believed it, and Vin cocked his head. "You think that's the only reason each of us went with him, because we had to? You telling me you didn't like being with him? That he wasn't good to you?"

JD flushed a deep scarlet, but his jaw set hard. "That don't got nothing to do with nothing."

"It's got everything to do with everything, JD. 'Cause Buck's kind, they need touching and comforting. Buck's gonna need us close to him, like you were close to him when you slept over in Nathan's room last night."

"Yeah, but I didn't... you know, I didn't do anything with him." He was still as red as a beet. "If you're going to make something of me just sleeping there, when you were practically--"

"I wasn't making nothin' out of nothin'. You did exactly the right thing, for you and for Buck. Lord, JD, you're acting like some scared virgin."

If anything, JD blushed further, but at least the jibe took him down a peg. "I just needed to know he was all right," he muttered.

"Different folks find that out in different ways, JD," Josiah intoned quietly, and Vin was covertly grateful.

Vin sighed, deep and long. He remembered the raw power of Buck under his hands, the slick clenching channel around his cock. He remembered the laughter, the simplicity, the tickle of that moustache and the press of those long fingers, and his plans for more romps with the man. He had thought each of the Seven would work out in his own mind what would be comfortable for him. He'd forgotten that each of them, equally, would have their opinions about everyone else.

"Josiah's right JD, Nathan. Buck Wilmington is sex on two legs, and any one of you doesn't think that, you can go ask half the women in this here territory. The fact that he's lookin' at some of us now, or that we're lookin' back, that don't make no never mind."

"It does too." JD bit his lip, his hands twitching on his horse's reins. "It ain't natural."

"You got that right," Nathan said quietly.

"Gentlemen," this from Josiah, and Vin tipped his head in thanks. "Natural is as God leads us to be, and for whatever reason, we've all been led to this place. Perhaps this ride would best be used contemplating the nature of our new situation. We can rattle off all the complaints we want, and share every fear we have, but I think we all just agreed that none of us is going anywhere."

"But I--"

"He's right, JD," Vin said quietly. "Most of us need some time to think about what's changed, and try and get used to it. Just be quiet for a little bit."

"But will you just tell me what happened to make you kiss Ezra?"

JD was so young, Vin thought, younger and more ignorant than any Two-Blood cub his age--hell, more ignorant than plenty of One-Bloods. Vin wanted to explain how easily affection and closeness spilled over into sex in a Two-Blood pack. He wanted to point out that Ezra Standish had proved himself to be a good man who deserved whatever attention Vin might want to give him, and that if Vin had thought the gambler was available, well, Vin might've gambled a little himself, even before all this had started. He wanted to say that any or all of them getting more comfortable around each other would help Buck immeasurably. But words were useless, especially in the face of JD's fear. "Ez and me," he said finally, "we both knew about Two-Bloods before Buck told us all he was one. I expect whatever we're drawn to doing, however we're drawn to mark this new pack, is how it's supposed to be."

"I don't care what you say, Vin," JD growled darkly, "I ain't kissing Ezra."

Vin chuckled a little bit at that, but was grateful when even JD settled down.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

A northerly loop brought them back into town from the west near sunset. As they tied their horses outside the livery, Josiah watched Nathan glance up toward the windows to his room and shared the dark man's unease. Then Nathan asked quietly, "Y'all reckon I should go up there and check on him?"

Josiah, sneaking a look around to be sure no townsfolk were within listening distance, breathed, "I expect they'll be sleeping, or they won't. Why don't we go over and get ourselves a drink?"

"Great!" JD said, too heartily. Josiah resisted the urge to frown. JD was in a state. Josiah knew he'd have to have a long talk with the boy, remind him exactly what Buck had always been to him. But beyond that, he didn't know what to say. The boy loved Buck, looked up to him in ways he didn't even recognize. He supposed that for Buck, JD would adjust.

The question was whether he'd adjust quick enough, or hurt Buck and the others in the process. Josiah turned his head, his eyes landing on Nathan's glowering countenance. The larger question was whether Nathan could make this adjustment at all. The healer had been fine, until dinner, until he had realized that more than just Buck might be in the cards. Josiah wasn't so sure about himself just yet, either, but he figured he could keep his reservations to himself for a while longer.

Vin, pulling down and hefting his saddle, said quietly, "I'll stick my head in, in a little bit."

Josiah grabbed his own saddle and caught up with Vin just as they entered the dim interior of the barn. "Vin," he said quietly, "you go check on 'em, that's fine. But you stay longer than five minutes and I'll come drag you out myself."

Vin felt his spine stiffen at the threat, and threw his saddle over a sawhorse. "You got somethin' needed saying in private, Josiah?" he challenged, turning on the big man. "Because I don't remember ever needing your permission to check on my friends before."

Seeker's saddle thunked heavily against wood before Josiah turned to face him fully. "I reckon we respect each other enough to speak truth to each other, Vin," he breathed, and Vin thought his tone sounded sincere. "No offense, but two men on the simmer up there with Chris is enough of a recipe for disaster. And Nathan and JD and yes, me, we ain't exactly what you'd call reconciled to all this yet. So we got three, probably four members of this pack so discombobulated, they can't find their asses with both hands. And we got two or three ready and willing to do it for them." His teeth glinted in the dim light, and Vin realized the man was offering a smile with the joke. "I suppose I'd like to have at least the impression that there's more to this pack business than sodomy and sins of the flesh."

Vin deflated under the honesty and dropped his head, ashamed. "I 'preciate the plain speaking, Josiah." Reaching up, he squeezed Josiah's shoulder in silent apology. "It's a lot more'n what you said. I promise, from everything I know about Two-Bloods, it's so much more than what you said." There was a tug in his gut to check in on them, to reassure himself with eyes and touch that all was well up there. "But uh, it's what you said too. Can be, anyway." He could plainly see the tensions in the men around him, no less his pack mates, to whom he had promised no less allegiance. No sex for you tonight, boy. Behave.

"Vin?" Josiah asked, his voice low and concerned.

He shrugged off his frustration. "Just thinking with my dick," he admitted. "It's wrong. Feels right, but I know it's wrong. I need to get ahold of myself."

"I don't reckon there's much right and wrong in all this. There's just a track with no map, and all of us finding our way."

Wasn't that the truth.

Josiah squeezed his arm, then grabbed brushes and curry combs from nails along the wall. Vin followed him out, and as JD and Nathan headed in with their own saddles, Vin said, "Y'all up for a game of poker tonight, after we settle the horses? Without Ezra around, one of us has actually got a chance of winning somethin'."

Nathan looked surprised; JD looked relieved. They both nodded as they stepped around him and Josiah, just behind him, clasped his shoulder kindly. "Much obliged, Vin."

Vin appreciated the brotherly touches, and the ease with which Josiah offered them. "Me too, Josiah."

Horses curried and fed and stabled, Vin found himself again standing at the edge of the livery, looking up toward Nathan's rooms. The sun had just fallen behind the hills, and shadows were softening fast. "I'm gonna go check on them now," he said quietly.

Nathan jerked his head around, all the settling he'd found on the ride vanished like mist. Four of them up there now, in his room--he sucked in his breath and looked away, before he said something he shouldn't. JD's apparent calm was chased off his face by an aggressive little frown. Josiah merely raised his eyebrows. The man had great faith in all of them. Maybe too much.

"If y'all will wait a few minutes," Vin added, "I want in the first game. And somebody order me a whiskey, all right?"

Nathan jerked his head around, wondering if the man was sincere. "Few minutes?" he asked, testing.

Vin nodded, meeting his eyes head-on. "Yeah. Just gonna see if they need anything."

Josiah said gently, "Give 'em our good wishes, if they're awake."

"You might want to take up some water," Nathan offered, trying and failing, he knew, to sound calm. "I think we emptied out that pitcher at supper."

Vin smiled slightly, and nodded his head. "I'll stop by the well."

Vin made his way to the water pump, his palms itching. The look on Nathan's face had told him he should have lied and said he was going to the outhouse or something. But they were pack now, and the rules had changed. The convenience of lying and withheld truths wasn't something they could afford, because Buck at least, and eventually all of them if they learned well, would be able to tell the difference.

As he filled a tin bucket with water, Vin thought about those three upstairs and felt his mouth go dry. He wished suddenly that he'd gone to the saloon first, tossed down a whiskey or two. That tug was on him again, to go up there and worm his way in between Buck and either of the others, he couldn't even say he particularly cared who right now. Drink dulled that gnawing in his gut more than anything else had so far. Well, he'd have his whiskey in a few minutes.

He climbed the stairs in silence so as not to disturb the normal noises of evening near the stables. At the door he paused, for one crazy second considering knocking. But there was no light seeping out from beneath the door or spilling through the curtained window, and if they were sleeping he'd be a fool to wake them. Gently, he eased the latch up and pushed the door inward. A box of lucifers sat on the little table inside the door; striking one to light the lamp, he settled the chimney and trimmed the wick. Still silent, he turned toward the bed.

Buck's head was lifted and the man was staring right at him, his eyes glowing gold in the reflected lamplight. A stray, inconsequential thought floated in, that he'd kick over the water bucket if he wasn't careful.

Walking silently to keep from waking the other two, Vin tried surreptitiously to follow the lines of arms and legs and bare skin before him. Chris' arm was slung low across Buck's hip, the hand disappearing under the sheet and toward the big man's groin. Ezra's face was pressed up into the hollow of Buck's neck and shoulder; Ez still had his shirt buttoned, so even though Chris looked to be naked, Vin figured nothing much had happened.

Quietly, he moved to the right of the bed, settling the lamp carefully upon the table before seeking out Buck's eyes. "Nathan wanted me to ask how y'all are feeling," he whispered.

"Fine," Buck breathed back. His pupils were wide, and Vin got the feeling the man was seeing everything, absolutely everything about him. "How're they holding up?"

Vin aborted a shrug. "They're good. JD's being sullen, I figure I'll clean him out at the tables tonight. Nathan keeps forgetting and relaxing, then he catches himself and looks afeard. It's funny, really."

But Buck didn't laugh. "How are they really, Vin?"

Vin did shrug this time. "Josiah's thinking it through, I expect he'll be fine--said to send you his best, by the way. JD's scared about the sex, and the idea there'll be more of it. You'll want to talk to him. Maybe we all will. Nathan, I don't rightly know. He don't seem to have no worries about you, but he ain't too happy with me or Ez or Chris right now. He thinks we're gonna start acting like rabbits and get ourselves caught, maybe skinned."

"Wish I wasn't banged up," Buck said forlornly. "Maybe I could help."

"I ought to be gettin' back," Vin mumbled, uncomfortable. "You need anything?"

"You," Buck said simply, and Vin felt that tug in his gut again, aching.

"You already got yourself an embarrassment of riches there," he breathed, trying to make light of it. Again Vin thought that lying would be smarter. Easier, at least. "I want to stay," he admitted, torn. "But I can't. I promised Josiah I wouldn't." He tried on a smile, found it fit pretty well. "Somehow I've become the second most likely to hump against anything that presents itself. Lucky for me, you still hold first place."

Buck's breathy chuckle just barely reached his ears before the next whispered words. "Well, if they've got your balls in a vise, I won't argue. I sure would take a kiss before you leave, though."

"I'll wake these two up," he argued, waving his hand vaguely at Ezra before him, and Chris behind Buck. But he wanted nothing more.

"Easier to wake the dead than it is to wake Chris once he's down somewhere safe," Buck breathed. "And Ez is already awake, he woke up when you opened the door."

Why, that little bastard! "Evenin', Ezra," he muttered dryly.

"Mr. Tanner." At least the man had the decency to sound embarrassed.

Buck chuckled, obviously, intensely happy. Vin figured Ezra deserved a little squashing, for eavesdropping, and enjoyed the "oof" as he leaned his weight onto the smaller man's shoulder. Buck's mouth was warm and wet and welcoming, that subtle, wild flavor stronger with sleep. Buck's tongue had obviously had enough of slumber; it was lively and tempting, promising all sorts of things that Vin was only too happy to take it up on. Ezra was kind enough not to complain.

In fact, feeling the hard ball of shoulder under his palms and the curve of ribs against his chest made him remember the quiet speculation in green eyes, the "we'll be here," when Vin had had to leave before. Strange, to think of Ezra like that, and certainly there had been the hint of politeness about it. But there was more, much more. Ezra, he thought, understood the opportunity they all had here, and so far, was the only one bold enough to act on it. Well, Vin would fix that right quick. Regretfully, he pulled away from Buck's pliant mouth to stare down into the gambler's shadowed face. As he hadn't then, he asked now. "Ez?"

Ezra, acting very put upon, rolled half way onto his back and stared up at him. "Oh, I suppose, Mr. Tanner. If you feel you must." Vin grinned. Ezra could be wary as a dog around a porcupine.

It was strange to offer his mouth to Ezra while Buck stared and Chris slept on, oblivious, two feet away. But in the strangeness there was a sweet familiarity, fond memories of the Dry Pond pack and the shadows that often played behind their hide lean-to's. There had been such a wealth of intimacy there, and while yes, the pack shared plenty more than sins of the flesh, there were opportunities for those too. A man who wanted that kind of closeness would be a fool to pass it up.

Vin put a knee on the mattress to steady himself, letting Ezra guide this touch. The little shiver of delight that ran up Ezra's body did nothing to calm Vin, nor did the fingers that slipped strong and demanding into the tangles of his hair. Ezra's mouth was soft as a woman's, and somehow courteous for all the banked hunger Vin tasted. Finally, Ezra's hand loosened and Vin pulled away, near breathless.

This was all too beautiful, somehow, and too dangerous. It would be so easy to forget the men below, who didn't share the same wants and needs right now but were no less a part of this. Buck looked indulgent, a blissful smile playing about his lips that tugged his moustache straight. Ezra looked a little scared and a little aroused and a whole lot courageous. "Buck?" Vin whispered, "What's happening to us?"

Ezra said quietly, "He has no idea, we've quizzed him already," but Buck's face took on a look of surprise.

"I'm scenting," Buck breathed. "I'll bet that's it."

"What?" Vin asked.

"I'm putting off scent. Two-Bloods, we put off a scent when we're around family, when we're on each other. This new pack, all of us, there's a bonding that happens, my body's doing what it's supposed to, I reckon. If y'all were Two-Bloods you'd be doing the same, and we'd probably be in a big old pile somewhere, getting our smells on each other. But you're not."

Vin heard a wistful note in the whispered voice that made him ache with the need to do just that. But they had three other men down at the saloon who needed his help too. "That don't explain me though, nor Ez," he said, trying to reason it through. Nor Nathan, Josiah or JD, for that matter.

"Course it does. Y'all two," and now he chuckled, dark and sensual, "y'all two are smelling me. On me, on yourselves, on each other. Lucky for me, my animal magnetism's working on ya both like it is."

Ezra looked outraged. "Are you suggesting, Mr. Wilmington," he hissed, "that my promise to you and my awareness of the appeal of Mr. Tanner here are based entirely on your questionable stench?"

Buck chuckled, and eased himself forward to nuzzle Ezra's throat. "Nope," he said frankly. "Y'all got eyes too. There's plenty more a' me y'all both can appreciate."

"Of all the arrogant, ignorant--"

Buck silenced him with a light kiss and Ezra, amazingly, settled back down with a hrrmph.

Vin snorted, shaking his head to fend off a belly laugh that would surely wake Chris and half the horses stabled nearby. Ezra had set such a good example for him, he decided to try it himself. "Well I sure can't say I expected it," he whispered, his lips drawn back in a wide smile. "But anytime, Buck, Ez. Y'all just say the word and I'll let either or both of you get your smells anywhere on me you feel the need to put 'em. But right now," he said, restraining his own wistful sigh, "I'm goin' back to the saloon."

Vin watched Buck's arm move carefully and drop against Ezra's middle.

His eyes roving hungrily across all three shadowed forms, resting lightly and longingly on the blond hair that caught bits of lamplight in the lengthening dusk, Vin backed away, carefully sidestepped the water bucket, and slipped out the door.

CHAPTER 7

Buck watched the door close and listened intently to the near-silent tread retreating down the wooden stairs. Josiah, Nathan, JD, they needed looking after, and while Buck felt like it ought to be his job, he was in no shape for it, for plenty of reasons. Vin could watch out for them.

"He is certainly full of surprises," Ezra breathed, voice mild.

Buck pressed his back more firmly against Chris' sleeping chest to feel the warmth and smooth press of bare skin to bare skin. "I'd say you got a few surprises of your own, Ez," he flirted, trying to draw the man in. If he had decent use of either of his hands, he'd have won the prize already.

"And you sir," Ezra said, turning toward him, "are a veritable wellspring of them."

"I do aim to please."

"And please, you do," Ezra agreed with a small smile. Preening at the compliments, Buck was delighted. He had never once imagined that Ezra Standish was such a romantic. He should have, he realized; Ezra had managed to bed the lofty Inez, on more than one occasion--something Buck himself had failed to do. And Ezra had never breathed a word of it, or any of his other liaisons. For all the rest of the Seven knew, their gambler led the life of a monk.

Buck hadn't realized that so much honest affection lived inside the man, either. The careful way Ezra exposed it, like an offering to this new pack, touched Buck's admittedly unguarded heart. That first night of marking, Ezra had pampered and fed him, and had loved him gently and well. In most things since--the ace of spades Buck still hadn't returned, the overt admissions in front of everyone, the laying bare of himself as he never had before--for all those things, Buck made a silent vow to protect his friend in all ways. Buck opened his mouth against the fingertips that touched his lips, coaxing the pad of an index finger in with his tongue. He suckled it gently, watching Ezra's eyes soften and smile. Chris would be asleep for hours, and no use to anybody anyway. Surely Ezra would understand that this was just time a'wasting.

"Don't ask, Buck," Ezra whispered, reading his mind. "If not for my sensitivity on the subject, for our Mr. Larabee. His distrust in me won't fade easily or soon, and I don't believe it would help anything were I to make improper advances on you."

From behind him, the sleepy voice nearly made Buck jump out of his skin. "Oh go ahead, Ez. Don't think Buck's ever known what the word improper means, anyhow." Chris stretched lazily against him. "I can't count how many times he's laid like he is right now and humped his hand, and me lying awake right behind him."

Buck was scandalized. "You never!"

The hand at his belly flattened, began to rub slow, kneading circles. "I did."

Buck rolled, bumping his gash and his shoulder equally, ending up uncomfortably settled on his still-sore rump and ignoring the various pains completely so he could examine Chris' face. Chris propped up on an elbow, his smiling, sleepy eyes emphasizing the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. "I'd have known it," Buck insisted.

"Guess not," Chris replied, looking down at him all superior and content.

"How? Tell me how you did that," he demanded.

Chris shrugged, and lowered his head until their faces were very close. "You know I used to sleep bad, but you didn't know that plenty of times, I didn't sleep at all." His eyes went out of focus as he came nearer; when next he spoke his hot breath moistened Buck's open lips, and Buck found it predictably hard to concentrate on the words. "I'd learned to relax real good." A brush of lips that made Buck's mouth itch for more, a brush of a hand that stirred the line of hair that pointed down his belly while narrowly avoiding his rising cock. "Guess you couldn't tell the difference," Chris finished softly.

"Huh?" Buck had forgotten whatever the hell they'd been talking about in the rush of desire that swept him. Chris laughed, and then looked beyond him--oh yeah, Ezra, lying right there against him.

"Well Ezra," Chris invited, equal parts warmth and humor in his voice, "somebody said something about a banquet. You hungry?"

Buck watched Ezra measure Chris with the same stare he offered opponents at the tables. "Ez?" Buck urged, softly, feeling again that tenderness, that need to protect the gentle insides of the man. "You don't got to be scared."

"I am not nervous, Mr. Wilmington," he answered. "I am merely measuring our leader's willingness to participate in such debauchery. He isn't like our tracker, or you, you know."

"He wants it, Ez," Buck assured, wishing again that he had decent use of his hands. "I can tell."

Ezra cast him an unimpressed frown. "Like you could tell he was asleep? Thank you, but I'll rely on my own judgment if you please."

Chris chuckled openly. "He's got you there, Buck."

Buck threw his head back into the pillow, disgusted, and fumbled his left arm up against Ezra's back, feeling twinges through the muscles Nathan had poked and prodded at and pronounced harmed. The way things were going, no one but JD was ever going to listen to him again.

Ezra frankly wasn't sure his own judgment was worth a plugged nickel at the moment. Vin was right about Chris; the man didn't truly know what he was in for. And while Ezra was willing to risk a free-for-all with the likes of Vin Tanner, who was more available, more readable, more predictable damn it--the thought of a similar ménage with Chris Larabee was an entirely different matter. Chris was too, well, too everything: too controlled, too aggressive, too remote, too dangerous.

It was too big a gamble to take this early in the game. Yes, far too big a gamble. "This is all quite new for all of us," he said, striving for a normal tone. "Mr. Larabee, perhaps I should leave you to, ah, dine in private."

"If we're learning anything," Chris said steadily, "it's that 'private' ain't the first concern for this pack. At least, right now it ain't."

"Whatever contribution I may have made," he averred, "this particular act hardly requires my participation. If you'll recall, the sexual congress Buck initiated wasn't to protect him; it was to protect us."

"Ez?" Buck's voice was quiet, tentative, and Ezra made the gross mistake of looking down at him. "You saying you don't want to be here?"

Ezra opened his mouth on a lie, but at the last minute the truth popped out. "That has nothing to do with it."

Chris chuckled wryly. "It's got everything to do with it. Ezra, scared ain't a reason not to be here. And I'll tell you one thing for God damned sure, we will not fail because of me. I ain't gonna be the one to mess this up, and if I have to carry you through this myself, I will."

Buck, hearing his own words echoing to the next man who so obviously needed to hear them, had never been more proud of his friend. His alpha. Good God, Chris had gone and done it!

"I ain't running from you, Ezra, nor from this," Chris went on, and Buck watched admiringly as Chris made the first move, rising to his knees and reaching across to grasp Ezra's shoulder. "You ain't running either."

"No," Ezra answered smoothly, "I'm not running. But I would like to point out that, to my knowledge, you have never once looked my way. I can't imagine you want me here."

"I don't know what I want," Chris said into the silence. Lord, Buck thought, did the man have to be so damned blunt all the time? "I ain't had a chance to find out yet. Hell, I'm only just starting to admit what I already had."

"Which is exactly why--"

Buck resisted a sharp, anticipatory breath as he felt Chris' weight shift, felt a palm press into his chest. Trapped on the bed between them, he could only watch as Chris leaned over and kissed Ezra, jaw wide and throat working. The passion Chris practically forced on Ezra, and Ezra's momentary struggle that preceded his surrender, the sound and smell of him as he helplessly responded to that demand, made Buck's whole body shiver. Chris like this, he was implacable, as solid and reliable and unyielding as the pillars that held up the earth.

Chris pulled back an inch, satisfied by the results of that kiss in a great many ways. He'd managed it, for one; Ezra had been right, Chris had never thought of him like that. It had been good, for another; Ezra kissed with real finesse, once he got going. Maybe most important of all, he'd felt Buck's bare chest right there under his hand, had known the man was watching him--and knowing Buck, probably loving watching him, as he had with women--and hadn't felt like an idiot.

He could do this.

Tilting his head, Chris broadened his smile. He had expected to be the one who fought against this. But he'd awakened before Buck had, some brief time before Vin had arrived, and lain there listening to the talk among the three men. Relaxed, deep in that tranquil state he often found himself in, he had let the feelings wash over him: Buck's wistfulness, Ezra's certainty, Vin's dedication, everyone's arousal when the sex talk started. So many of those responses had been unexpected, because his men--even Buck, he now realized--guarded themselves around him. Ezra, he guarded himself to protect himself, and Chris respected that. But Vin and Buck, and maybe some of the others, they guarded themselves to protect Chris.

And that dedication deserved a better leader than they'd had so far.

"C'mon, Ez," he said with a grin. "I don't bite, not like Vin." Chris ran his fingers over the bruises at the join of Buck's neck and shoulder; it had taken him two hours' sleep and about three seconds of actual thought to realize which one, and only one, of them would have bitten Buck Wilmington. Rambunctious, wild, still waters--yeah, Vin would cut loose like that.

Ezra, startled by the implication, tore his eyes from Larabee's and looked at the bruises. They were indeed bite marks; he hadn't noticed when Buck had visited him in his room. He touched the mottled skin, outraged. "Has Mr. Tanner no shame? Why, six of us were due to 'mark' Buck that evening. What was the man thinking?" he declaimed, half angry, half dismayed. But Chris' next action distracted him from his offense at Buck's obvious mistreatment; Chris' fingers slid up Buck's neck and into his hair, and Chris leaned over Buck to kiss him deeply.

Ezra felt his mouth go dry. Offense became shock became hot liquid passion as he heard the moist sounds of lips meeting and the whisper of moustache bristles across skin, and recognized the intimacy of the touch, the familiarity between these two. Buck's head tilted back in welcome, and the visage of a man he had rarely if ever imagined in heated embrace was very, very definitely in a heated embrace. With handsome, adoring Buck. He felt as if his flushed skin might set the bed on fire. "Oh my," he heard himself say. Then he scrambled off the bed before he lost all control and threw himself on the pair.

"Ezra? Buck asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Where are you going, Ezra?" Chris asked. The heat in those moss green eyes was undeniable, and compelling. Ezra took another, single step back. "Where are you goin'?"

Straight to hell, gentlemen. Straight to hell." I just, I..." There was nothing he could say, really. After all, his name had been on the devil's slate for decades. "I..."

Buck sniffed, then chuckled low and deep. "He ain't going nowhere, Chris."

Crude, Ezra thought absently. The man was insufferably, irreparably crude.

"Ezra?" Chris repeated, more an invitation than an order. Chris' flat palm stroked down Buck's body until it reached the sheet. The fingers curled, then, lifting fabric up and drawing it back, revealing Buck's groin, the dark hairs there, the proud erection already seeking attention; the strong, lean thighs.

Ezra swallowed, tried to work up enough spit to get a word out. Good lord, a naked body no matter how lovely ought not to have this effect on him.

Chris was actually smiling, now, even if it was canted a little crazily. "C'mon, Ez," he said, voice as smooth and tempting as the devil himself. "Best not let a good meal go to waste."

Suddenly Ezra had no trouble working up spit; he was salivating so badly he had to swallow to keep from drooling. As abruptly as he had lost his clothes two nights before, he found himself back on the bed, drowning in Buck's kisses, feeling the illicit and not entirely safe thrill of Chris Larabee's body hovering near his side. Good lord, a gentleman wasn't supposed to react this way, a gentleman was supposed to have some kind of control... he heard himself groaning, heard Buck answering it, felt the dense muscle of Buck's thigh rub against his imprisoned shaft, the tight press of an arm as it squeezed his ribs--and jerked away, panting. "Buck, don't," he managed, trying to regain some control.

"Don't what?" The arm started tugging at him, and he could feel the tremor in it.

"Don't use that arm. I promise you, I will--" he paused briefly, collected his courage to glance up at Chris, and self-consciously amended," we will take care of you. You mustn't hurt yourself."

"Y'all think I'm made of glass?" Buck groused, urgent and entirely unmindful of his condition.

"No, Buck," Ezra said, managing finally to rein himself in. "We know exactly what you're made of."

Chris tilted his head upon hearing the words, wondering when Buck had earned so much of Ezra's respect. It had been this way for a while now, he realized, just as Buck's affection for Ezra had been there for Chris to see if only he had looked closely. "Ezra?" he breathed, calling the gambler's attention up to him.

Ezra turned, an openness about his eyes that quickly turned to guarded appraisal. "Yes, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris chuckled at that use of his surname here, of all places. It gave him something to focus on as he screwed up his courage for something that should have been simple, especially after he'd already kissed the man. It had sure as hell been simple for Vin, and for Buck. But then, emotion came more easily to them, as did expressing it. Chris lifted his hand from Buck's thigh and settled it gently on Ezra's shoulder, watching as appraisal turned to wary surprise. Slowly, so as not to startle, he leaned forward until their open mouths were an inch apart, and paused there, breathing the man's air, offering his mouth this time, giving Ezra the choice.

Incredible, what a person noticed at critical moments.

When he had kissed his first girl, he'd noticed the thrumming that vibrated through his skin, the timid excitement in her eyes, and his lightheadedness. In his first gunfight, he had noticed the brightness of the sun, and the way he could hear every running boot on the boardwalk, every nervous stamp of horses' hooves. And now, eyes drifting closed, he noticed the solidity of Ezra Standish's body, the muscle and sinew so deftly hidden under three piece suits, and the never-suspected silkiness of the man's hair. There was the mildest odor of expensive soap mixed in with strong cologne and the smell of Ezra's sweat, a dark tang, almost pungent, that he couldn't decide if he liked or not.

Then Ezra's head tilted and traveled that last inch, the passionate swirl of tongue making itself known inside his mouth and all the way down to his groin. When, after long moments, he felt the slight tension of Ezra's desire to end it, he released the man and drew back.

"My-my," Ezra said, breathless. "Dominant, indeed." Then he smiled, wry, and backed off the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved.

Chris looked between the pair, practicing rusty skills at reading something in men besides their potential for danger. He looked down at Buck's face, noted the joy there alongside the unconscious anxiety. He couldn't blame the man. Not-man. Two-Blood. Whatever. So many things could go wrong. Other packs could decide they were some sort of abomination and try to exterminate them. The Red Stone pack could return, seeking its brother and its revenge; John Doe would never walk right again. The townsfolk could find out and react badly. Hell, their new-formed pack could self-destruct from the inside, without anyone else's help.

Buck's eyes turned to him, his fingers twitching on empty air, and Chris felt a tug down deep in his closely guarded heart. Now wasn't the time to dwell on all that could go wrong. Now was the time to dwell on what was right, and for the reassurance of these most intimate touches and what Buck had called bonding, whatever the hell that meant. He stood himself, loosened the last buttons at his fly, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, and tugged them down.

"Well stud, you're calling the shots here," Chris said quietly, feeling a smile play about his lips. "What do you want?"

And Buck, smiling, his gaze drifting absently back to Ezra, caught a sight that made his brain stutter. Ezra's back was to them and, consciously or not, he was shoving his ass toward the lamplight as he bent to shuck off trousers and underwear.

"That," Buck breathed, mindless. He sensed Chris' head turning, heard the amused chuckle.

Ezra stood and turned at that moment, shaking creases from his trousers, and Buck watched the fabric dance alluringly, hiding good bits of him. Ezra frowned, looked down at himself and then back at them. "What?"

"The animal here has designs on your ass, Ezra," Chris said.

Ezra looked startled, and his trousers shook for a second. But, still braver than Buck had ever had a right to expect, Ezra draped the fabric over the back of the chair and walked steadily to the bed. Buck's cock jumped of its own accord at the sight. Good lord, he'd been so focused on getting the job done two nights ago, he had barely noticed more than the kindness of the man's touch, the sensuality of his eyes, the feel of his cock as it shoved inside.

Ezra stood by the bed for a moment, emotions checked, a small, false smile playing on the edges of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "I feel compelled to admit," Ezra breathed softly, "that I am completely inexperienced in the endeavor we are about to undertake."

Above Buck, Chris frowned slightly.

"He's never fucked two guys at the same time," Buck supplied, trying to be helpful.

Chris glared down at him while Ezra rubbed his temples, stifling a groan. "Have you no sense of propriety at all?" Ezra reproved testily.

"Obviously he don't," Chris answered for him.

The silence stretched between them all. Buck couldn't stand the rising tension, couldn't contain it in the face of his own need for touch. He would gladly sacrifice what it looked like both of them had been ready for half a minute ago, if only they were in his reach. Eyes darting between the two men, he urged, "C'mon, y'all."

Chris looked down at him, brows drawn together. Buck didn't speak, couldn't look away. "You don't ask for much, do you?" Chris asked, irony rich in his voice.

"He's asking for everything," Ezra said, his voice disembodied somewhere off to the left of Chris' eyes. "Everything he has never had, and always wanted. I must say, I understand the feeling."

The apprehension on Chris' face shifted by small degrees until the smile came back out. "That all you want, Buck?" he joked. "Well hell, boy, why didn't you just say so?" And before Buck could form an answer, Chris' weight jolted the mattress and Chris' hot mouth was on him. He groaned under the lush demand of that kiss, feeling his belly hollow with craving. The bed creaked, and Ezra's hands joined the party, veering down Buck's belly and over the jut of his hip. One stopped there, the other came to rest high inside his thigh, such that if he could just move two or three inches, one or the other of those hands would be forced onto his cock.

He wasn't so stupid as to think Ezra would let him manage that. This would be a testament to his willpower, to lie here without hurting himself and let his lovers care for him. Banged up as he was, with barely enough use of his hands to point to piss, he'd get there only when these two let him.

Buck's body put off heat like a furnace, and Chris' flesh burned with it. That heat was making its way deep into him, into his head and his heart. This was so damned simple, easy as only Buck could make something like this for him. Buck's lush lips were open and hungry, Buck's moustache tickling his face like it had years ago, yesterday, this morning. Buck's tongue drew designs of delight inside Chris' mouth. He ran a hand over a smooth flank, and when his hand touched Ezra's at the join of Buck's legs, instead of feeling strange, it felt all right. As the passion mounted in him, he feathered his fingers over the back of Ezra's hand. When Ezra's hand slid up his arm to the elbow and then skipped over to his hip, Chris sucked a sharp breath right out of Buck's lungs.

Ezra's hand began to make a polite but intimate acquaintance with his backside. Chris worked hard to divide his attention, to enjoy the kisses and not to flinch from the new hand as it tested muscle, as fingers just barely skimmed along the crack of his ass before retreating to cup his buttock. Ezra wasn't too bold. Ezra was, he decided as those sensitive fingers learned his skin, careful with him--a real gentleman. The thought made him chuckle, under the circumstances, and he relaxed even further. He was in control of this, he was the leader; there was nothing to fear from these men, and plenty to like. This whole pile-up thing, he could do.

He kept his mouth on Buck's and his eyes closed, valuing the safety of blindness. And for the next several minutes, the only sound in the room was that of skin on skin, and sheets sliding around as they moved together, and the occasional groans he pulled out of Buck.

The weight of Buck's cock in his hand, big and heavy and yearning, felt like coming home. The feel of Ezra's, so different in shape if not in texture, was startling, foreign, but Chris could imagine no better, easier, or safer way to get to know this man's body than with the common ground that was Buck between them. Besides, Ezra had risked first, and deserved a reply. Chris learned the smooth, pampered skin, the hard definition of muscle at back and shoulder and chest--what did the man do to keep his form like that?

When he finally drew away from Buck's prolonged, intoxicating kisses, his hand rested comfortably at Ezra's groin, and Ezra's was comfortably at Buck's. Buck looked dazed, his breath coming in rapid pants that Chris remembered well. Chris gave Ezra's cock a friendly squeeze to get his attention. "You gonna let him do it, Ez?" he asked.

"Do what?" Ezra asked blankly.

"Fuck you," Buck said beneath him, and Chris grimaced, considered poking an elbow into the big man's ribs.

"Ezra's right, Buck," he scowled, "you got no finesse at all."

"I'm about to have no patience at all, if we don't get to it," Buck said, scowling right back.

Chris watched nerves play about Ezra's handsome face. Ezra wanted it--and who wouldn't, if he enjoyed that sort of thing? Chris could promise from experience that Buck was damned fine at fucking a man. It was after Chris had finally turned the tables on Buck, in fact, that he'd begun to understand why women put up with Buck's boisterous personality... and why back then, Buck had been a dangerous man for him to get too close to.

Ezra looked embarrassed, too, and Chris could guess why. With Buck in his current condition, someone would have to, well, slick Ezra up. And while he knew a man could do it himself, he couldn't imagine for a moment putting his own fingers into his ass while another man just sat there and watched. "I'll take care of it, Ez," he offered, gentle. Hell, he might even like it, testing Ezra's body, smoothing feeble Buck's way. Feeble Buck... what a laugh. He'd have to take advantage of Buck's incapacitation while he could.

Ezra's eyes held his a moment longer before dropping to the man lying between them. "I would prefer something a bit less... complex," he said softly.

"Hell, Ez," Buck said, and he sounded almost hurt, "I thought you knew I was glad just to have you in touching distance. We don't got to do nothing at all."

Chris was irrationally proud of Buck's restraint. And when Ezra stared a moment longer and sighed, that rakish grin slipping out, Chris was equally proud of their gambler's courage. "I never leave to chance what can be premeditated, Buck," Ezra said quietly. "And for something of that delicacy, I'd prefer at least a modicum of planning. However I also dislike putting off till tomorrow a pleasure I can enjoy today. I believe I can offer you a pleasant enough diversion." With that Ezra dropped his head to Buck's chest and started kissing his way south.

Chris swallowed once, hard. He had once thought of two men together as perversion, distasteful at best, a convenience to be indulged quickly when women weren't available. Buck had taught him that, and it had merely been a way to get him to cross that line. At some point, he had come to like it, to want it, to know better than to accept Buck's kisses or savor Buck's touches too well. And now, watching aching pleasure transform Buck's face, seeing Buck's muscles tighten and flinch in impassioned response, watching the dark shadow that Ezra's head cast over Buck's groin and the flickering play of light over Ezra's muscled back, he thought he might come just at the sight.

His hips moved of their own accord, thrusting against the sweat-slick hollow of Buck's hip. Little Chris was raring and ready, and no stable to ease him into, either. He dropped his head and pushed his tongue as far into Buck's mouth as he wanted to push cock into body. Buck was near gasping, sucking at his tongue, pushing passion into him with every move of mouth, every breath. Against his cock he felt Buck's hips undulating, writhing, obviously thrusting. Against the front of his thigh he felt the feathery, tickling brush of Ezra's hair. Chris could imagine the picture, didn't have to look to see the steady movement of Ezra's head, or the corded muscles in Buck's belly and thighs. It was as vivid in his mind as if he were sitting across the room in a chair, watching it all.

Ezra's hand slid up the back of Chris' leg and made him flinch forward, grinding with a purpose; he was so close, how had he gotten so close? And suddenly, a foreign sensation marked his hip, and his overheated mind worked hard to identify it: Ezra's lips, placing a gentle close-mouthed kiss there in the hollow of his heated skin. Swallowing against Buck's mouth, frozen with every muscle clenched tight, he felt the joy wrenched from him, down his belly and out his cock, while vaguely he heard tiny grunts and groans that he wished were Buck's, and knew were his own.

Oh good lord.

It shouldn't feel this good just to press against Buck's bare skin. That touch of thin lip shouldn't have set him off, but it was such a kind gesture, so very intimate, and he had been so close already.

Ezra was startled at the speed and strength of Chris' release, and even more startled at the noises. Somehow he had expected a still and quiet climax, something controlled, measured. And what he got was a veritable explosion of sound and movement, grunts and skittering groans, squeezed through a throat tight with pleasure and muffled inside Buck's mouth. Chris' body shook as with a palsy, and Ezra stole the opportunity to watch the arching erection twitch and spit its pearlescent offering. Almost, he had the courage to touch it, to run a finger along its length. But only almost.

Sighing, needy and aching, he returned to his service, swallowing Buck's thickness as deeply as he could, offering every touch he knew might please. One hand he slid over the tight-drawn sac that twitched beneath the impressive shaft. The other, he slipped to his own shaft.

It seemed only a moment, a few precious, worshiping movements of head and tongue against the slick silk of the shaft, before Buck surged up and froze, and he caught the bitter fluid, swallowing the essence of the man. Overwrought, tugging almost painfully on himself as he continued to pleasure his partner, he felt suddenly a hand at his neck, drew back to warn Buck off. But it was Chris, his eyes dark with passion, his lips wet and swollen and shining in the lamplight. Ezra froze, unaccountably mortified. Before he could say something to defuse the naked vulnerability of being seen furiously masturbating with another man's cock in his mouth, Chris kissed him with a fierceness that made him whimper. Before he could do much more than respond to that, Chris' other hand sought out his shaft, wrapping around his hand and his cock and bearing down tightly, veritably forcing pleasure out of him.

"Mm, mm," he heard himself moan. And with the demand of Chris' mouth and hand on him, he joined his partners in release, body twitching with an icy bliss that surged through his veins.

Buck tucked his chin and watched the two, body shaking with the pleasure that ran swift and strong through him. His cock still throbbed its satisfaction. His balls twitched and teased that harsh, bone-deep itch that he would never, in his entire life, scratch enough. He couldn't say how he felt, didn't have words to express his pleasure nor his love for these men who had become his. And they were glorious together, passionate and true; that Ezra would bare himself, that Chris would take the risk, make such a leap of faith into this new life, made his pleasure-wracked body quiver with emotion.

Risking the pain--not caring, really--he eased up onto an elbow where he could better soak up the sight before him. Chris broke off the kiss and swiveled his head around. Ezra, breath still unsteady, did the same, and Buck basked in the heat of their eyes like a dog cozying up to the hearth. They glanced at each other again, then dropped to either side of him, hands running soothingly over his body, tangling on occasion, mouths taking turns with him and each other. The moist wet friction, the ever-combining flavors of Chris and Ezra and his own release, made him feel light as air.

He could not have asked for more from either one of them. In fact, they had surprised him. Inspired him. Made him feel deep in his gut that they understood something of what was happening, and what this pack was supposed to mean and be. It was all or nothing, with something like this. It was home, for all of them.

Chris pulled away from his latest, lazy kiss with Ez and glanced down. Buck had made a tiny sound, out of place and pained-seeming. Don't use your arms, he wanted to say, but Buck was just staring at him blankly, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. Chris frowned in sudden fear. Had they done something wrong, messed something up? But Buck smiled and shook his head.

"Y'all two... I ain't never seen nothin' more beautiful."

Chris smiled a little, and refrained from pointing out how very often Buck said that. They were heartfelt, and no matter how many women Buck repeated those words to, no matter how many times he'd said them to Sarah, to Adam, and on rare occasion to Chris, they were never diluted. Buck meant them, every time. "So we're doing it right then," he answered, just to give Buck some words. Buck had always appreciated kind words in bed, and Chris had long suspected it was because of his mama's occupation.

"Yeah, I reckon," Buck replied happily. The way Ezra sidled up against Buck and buried his face against Buck's collarbone said clearly enough what the resident gambler thought of the matter.

Was this bonding? Chris couldn't say. He didn't know. But the two of them looked natural together, Ezra's skin almost the color of Buck's but smoother, younger, less scarred. Buck tilted his head down, rubbing his chin back and forth against the top of Ezra's head. The gold ring the gambler wore caught the light as the fine, deft hand swept lazily over the line of Buck's throat. Legs loosely entwined, movements slow and rich with satiation, they really were awfully pretty.

Chris had never imagined he would feel like this. There was neither jealousy nor distaste, just the gut-deep sense that these men belonged to each other and to him. Vin was right. This was an embarrassment of riches.

CHAPTER 8

Nathan found himself surprisingly mollified by the noise and bustle of the saloon. He wasn't usually a man to hang about once things began to jump of an evening, but the people, the piano, the barmaids, the chatter of everyone's conversation, it was all so normal that it soothed his jangling nerves. Ezra's regular table was empty, and Nathan resisted a sigh. They were so settled here, their positions so respected each in his own way. For Ezra, respect meant that his usual table was the last to be filled, the locals urging off visitors from the highly desirable view of the room and door.

He climbed the three steps and took Ezra's usual seat, his back to the wall. JD walked straight to the bar where Inez busily served up drinks, smiles and well-practiced flippancy. She glanced across the room, her smile quirking a bit, likely at Ezra's absence. Unease warred with his momentary relaxation. So many people in this town, plenty of good Christians who were nosey out of necessity, looked after their neighbors. Others just pried and whispered from plain mean-spiritedness. He had no idea how they were going to keep this hidden.

"No sense inviting trouble, Nathan," Josiah said quietly, to his left. The chair creaked as the big man moved, settling deeper into it.

"Don't see as it'll need much inviting, Josiah," he answered. "I don't rightly know how this is going to work." He watched JD walk across the floor precariously carrying three beers and a whiskey, smiling and sharing a word with people on the way. The Seven were a part of this town, at least tonight. Nathan had to take some comfort in that.

Vin pushed through the batwing doors a few minutes later, much to Nathan's relief. He didn't ask, and as Vin volunteered nothing, Nathan knew everyone up there was all right.

He dealt. JD, not surprisingly, lost several straight hands. Wound up as he was, it was almost cruel to let him play, so they switched to hearts and changed the bets to horse care and grooming. JD still lost, but at least it was slower, and the boy would be able to buy bullets.

Inez came over some time later, serving at the tables to keep the drinkers buying. "How is Señor Buck?" she asked with genuine concern. Nathan smiled as JD answered hastily and her face glowed with relief. Inez, for all her impatience with Buck's advances, she sure did like the man.

She smiled kindly and nodded all around. "I have missed Señor Larabee. He is not hurt too?"

JD squirmed in his chair and Nathan frowned his annoyance. "No ma'am," he offered, to keep JD from saying something stupid. "Chris, he just hadn't slept in a couple days, is all."

"I see. And Señor Ezra?"

Nathan reminded himself to be calm. The Seven weren't often in town all at once anyhow. Ezra would take little trips up and down the stagecoach routes, fleecing travelers in towns four, five days away; Vin liked to wander off into the wild; Chris would go off to his shack for days at a time, or ride out and raise Cain far enough from Four Corners that the townsfolk here could tolerate him. Josiah liked the nearby Indian reservation and spent his fair share of time out there chasing spirits and signs. Buck, of course, could disappear after a woman for three, four days easy. And while Nathan was something of a homebody, when there were people sick he was expected to go check on 'em.

"Ezra was feelin' a bit responsible," Vin said for him. "He's been keeping Buck company."

Her smile turned affectionate and teasing. "Señor Standish, feeling responsible? Wonders never cease!"

Nathan nodded his head somberly, thinking the same thing. Responsible, or just bewitched, he couldn't rightly say.

"Another round for you gentlemen? On the house," she said expansively.

"Yes ma'am, thank you kindly," and its variations came from everyone at the table.

As she wandered off to finish her rounds, Nathan thought again of Ezra and Chris, up there with Buck. It preyed on him, what they might be doing. It was plain unnatural, more animal than man, to just copulate without thought or love or affection.

That didn't fit right either, though; Buck had more affection in him than any ten men, and nobody could ever convince Nathan that Buck Wilmington didn't love Chris Larabee. The sheer amount of shit Buck took off the man proved that, if nothing else did. But Chris, and Ezra? And the three of them, all of 'em men? He didn't want to know, but couldn't stop thinking about it.

Speak of the devil and Ezra appeared, one hand on each of the batwing doors as if only after careful surveillance would he decide it was safe in here. As he finally stepped inside, Nathan examined him closely: his clothes were neat and unwrinkled, his fancy lace shirt cuffs pulled straight and even. His hair was combed and his face was even smooth. Ezra dragged a chair over and sat down between JD and Vin, the very picture of a proper gentleman gambler right down to the friendly, unreadable smile and glinting gold tooth.

"Gentlemen. Who, may I ask, is winning?"

"You use my razor and personal effects?" Nathan asked.

Ezra looked chagrinned. "My apologies, Nathan. I thought it best, under the circumstances."

Nathan shook his head, not liking it much but appreciating the attention to details Ezra always paid. "Nah nah, it's all right," he grumbled, settling back. Ezra being out of Nathan's room, that was worth almost any personal encroachment. "We stopped playing for money an hour ago, a'fore JD lost his guns."

"I wasn't that bad," JD denied, but he blushed as he said it.

Ezra reached out and collected spent cards, shuffling with a flourish designed to distract the others' gazes as he closely examined each of the men at the table. JD looked embarrassed, possibly over his gaming losses, possibly over his very correct suspicions about what might have transpired up in Nathan's room. Nathan looked put upon, and disapproving as only Nathan could. He also looked distinctly unhappy. Josiah looked preoccupied, and probably, Ezra guessed, hadn't fared much better at cards than JD. Vin, to Ezra's right, looked... quite sweetly affectionate. He stared right back, as if he'd been waiting for Ezra's eyes to land on him, and there was something soft about his face. Ezra was so taken aback he almost recoiled from that kind look. Courage, Ezra, he told himself, drawing a slow, even breath. Carefully, he extended his left boot beneath the table until it came into contact with Vin's. Vin's eyes crinkled at the corners and he shook his head, his hair trailing loosely over his shoulders. The man had beautiful hair...

Ezra brought himself up short. This was no way to think, not the place to think it anyway. "Perhaps," he said, offering a shark's smile, "we can return to a more entertaining game? Five card draw? For actual cash?" Most of them groaned, but obediently stacked up the chips at their elbows, for which Ezra was relieved; he needed something to keep his attention on the here and now. Shuffling carefully and dealing off the bottom, he gave JD cards that even a blind idiot could win with, and watched the pile of chips in front of Vin and himself slowly diminish. Both Vin and Josiah started casting him suspicious looks after only a few hands, but neither said a word.

"Well, Mr. Dunne, it looks like your luck has changed," Ezra offered conversationally. JD grinned at him, and the cocky look on his face told Ezra better than words that the young man had no clue he was being aided.

"Yeah," Josiah said wryly, "ain't that the darnedest thing?"

"I must say, Lady Luck is a capricious fiend whenever it isn't me she smiles upon." He continued to deal a new hand of cards. Under the table, Vin pointedly stepped on his foot.

Ezra refused to react. When Vin glared over at him, he merely smiled gently, finished dealing the fifth card in the new hand to each of them, and tilted his head. Yes? he asked with his eyes, adorning his very most innocent expression.

After a short pause, Vin grinned, and without even examining his cards, pushed them into the center of the table. "I fold."

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

It was late night but well before the witching hour when Nathan decided to take his leave. He was almost even, and while he suspected Ezra of giving him his money back on purpose, he wasn't going to complain about it. The moon was reaching for its highest point just beyond the church, and he paused for a long moment at the bottom of his stairs, looking at it and pondering what it meant. Pack of animals, pack of wolves, pack of thieves. Nothing good there. The Four Corners Pack. Pack of regulators who had hired on to protect this town. Pack of men and one of them more or less than a man, depending on how you looked at it. Pack of boys up in his bed this evening, probably inviting damnation and all kinds of trouble.

Nathan looked up the staircase, wondering what was going on up there right now.

He was careful to make noise as he climbed. In the two short flights he imagined all sorts of terrible things he could walk in on. And the closer he got to the top, the more lurid the contortions in his head became, until he was actually afraid when he reached the landing. Mary Travis could have visited after supper; Mrs. Potter doted on Buck like half the other females in town; anyone could have decided to come up and check in, or some sick person could have needed tending and naturally knocked on this door, and Chris and Buck and Ezra had been up to who knew what in there--and Chris and Buck were in there now --he shoved open the door with his foot, glowering.

All six lamps were lit and trimmed up to bright, cheery flame. Buck looked away from the book he was reading that someone had propped on a pillow for him, and Chris turned, shaving lather thick on his jaw. Buck, half-reclined on the already-made bed, was fully dressed except for boots and bandana; even his suspenders were in place. Chris, while his shirt was off, did have his boots on and a towel thrown round his neck. And he was shaving, so the only thing that looked odd was that he was shaving when it must be well past ten o'clock at night.

"Nathan?" Chris asked, frowning. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head. Buck, on the bed, got a sly look on his face and guffawed. "Old Nathan here thought you and me'd be up to something, Chris. He don't think we c'n be left unchaperoned."

It was worse than that; there weren't many chaperones he could trust, either.

"Well," Chris replied reasonably, turning back to the mirror, "he's mostly right about you, now ain't he?"

Buck's laughter softened, comfortable. "I won't deny it."

Nathan opened his mouth to complain, and closed it again without a word. Ezra doing kind things for people, Vin acting like a horny mother hen, Chris and Buck not in the act when he expected them to be, and doing who knew what when he didn't expect them to be, JD acting like a turkey that knew Thanksgiving was coming and Josiah, generally, acting like he did every other day. Nathan wondered if he ought to just quietly go crazy now, and get it over with.

Without a word, he went to sit at his desk, staring at his reflection in the window glass as his overtaxed brain, like a poorly oiled axle, ground to a crunching halt. He didn't know how much time passed, just barely registering the splash of water, the rustle of fabric and clink of metal, and later, a quiet, measured tread that walked a few steps, paused, walked a few steps, paused. The first thing he truly became aware of, though, was Buck's voice, a strange, sad note in it, and the first words spoken since he'd sat down.

"Go on," Buck said, and only then did Nathan see how much oil the lamps had burned; he must have been sitting here staring for half an hour or more. "No sense both of us stayin' cooped up tonight."

"It ain't like you think, Buck," Chris said, and his voice was too intimate, too soft, almost pained. That voice belonged to married couples and young lovers, and Nathan wished suddenly that he were anywhere but here.

"'Course it's like I think. I ain't that stupid." Soft humor tried and failed to cover a deeper hurt.

"I said it wasn't like you think, and I meant it!"

Nathan turned at the sudden severity in Chris' voice, but Chris didn't even spare him a glance. Dressed in black from head to heel, the man even had his gun on. What was he expecting up here, armed bandits bursting through the door?

"You think you're reading my mind, is that it?" Buck snapped, glaring right back as obstinate as he could be --which Nathan had to admit, was pretty damned obstinate. "Best not start now; you never were any good at it."

"What are you doing, Buck? An hour ago we were lyin' in that bed and everything was fine, so what the hell do you think you're doin'?" Now Nathan really wanted to be somewhere else.

"I ain't doin' nothing, Chris," Buck said, looking dejected again. "Much obliged. You go on now. Tell Vin and the boys I said howdy."

Chris took two strides toward the bed, so angry Nathan thought violence might erupt, but Chris stopped several feet away, every muscle locked tight. "God damn it, Buck, are you trying to rile me?"

Buck sighed and turned his head away. "Course I ain't trying to rile you." A tiny smile, now, sincere humor because Buck Wilmington had the rare skill of laughing when things hurt, "It's not like I got to try, to manage that, now is it?"

"That ain't gonna work this time around, Buck. You ain't gonna chase me off and you ain't gonna hem me in with that shit either, you understand me? You ain't gonna decide for me like this." Chris' voice was low and quiet and as vicious as Nathan had ever heard it, and Buck's face turned hard. Nathan had the sense that a hound dog was trying and failing to herd a Brahma bull.

"You saying you're gonna stay here just to spite me?" Buck goaded, then laughed. "You want to stay, sit down and stay!"

Woof, Nathan heard in his mind.

Chris smiled a cruel smile, one of those smiles that Nathan never wanted to be in front of. "You think I'm playing with you right now, Buck? You think I ain't serious?"

Snort, Nathan heard in his mind. Any second now Chris would start pawing at the ground.

He had never seen these two act like this, not to each other, but it was obvious from how easy this fight came to them that they'd been here before. He understood better now why they sometimes seemed so cool with each other; one wrong word, and it was North and South.

Did they think they could make him witness this meanness just because of this pack nonsense? Well Nathan Jackson was a human being and a free man, and he didn't have to stand idly by. "I ain't gonna have none of that up here, y'all," he ordered curtly, rising and walking toward the bed. "Chris, you go on, if you're goin'. And Buck, you shut yourself up right now."

Buck's mouth curled into a moue of distaste. "Don't you think you're carrying this nursing thing a little too far?"

"You heard an ounce of prevention's worth a pound of cure? Last thing I need is either one of you stayin' up here a minute longer'n you have to. You're both gettin' cabin fever, that's clear enough." He turned his back on his patient. "Go on, Chris," he urged again, keeping his voice steady and low. "Go on now."

The anger drained off Chris' face like water off a leaf, leaving that blank, tight control behind. "All right," he said quietly. "Nathan, Buck. I'm just going to get some air, that's all. I'll be back."

When Chris pulled the door shut behind him, Nathan was more relieved than he cared to say.

"Yeah, he'll be right back," Buck muttered, sounding angry and resigned.

"I want to have a look at them arms," Nathan said, determined to put them both on safer ground. He should have done it the minute he'd walked in the door; he had meant to. Gathering up the few things he would need, he measured the ingredients for a fresh poultice in a small mortar, careful to leave out those things Buck had wrinkled his nose at yesterday. When he turned, Buck was already doing a bad and painful-looking job of unbuttoning his shirt.

"Let me do that," Nathan offered, sensitive as always to the hurts of others.

"I ain't a cripple," Buck said shortly.

"Nobody said you was." Nobody needed to say it; it was obvious. "But I don't want you using that hand when you don't have to." He made short work of the buttons, then pushed the shirt back over Buck's shoulders. Some of the wrappings had been removed, to get the sleeve on the right arm. No way could Buck have done that. "You put this on yourself?" he asked anyway, easing the shirt down past the bandages.

"Nah, Chris did."

Nathan jerked in surprise. He couldn't see Chris doing something so, well, helpful. "Chris?" he asked doubtfully.

Buck chuckled, genuinely amused. "We've known each other thirteen years now, Nathan. You don't think we've helped each other out in just about every way?"

Nathan felt a twinge of unease. But try as he might, he couldn't picture Chris Larabee holding Buck's trouser leg for him, or pulling on his socks or washing him, or combing his hair. It would have been a different Chris, not the powder keg who'd just walked out that door. His eyes landed on the bruises, high on the juncture of Buck's shoulder and neck, and his stomach did a queasy flip. "What was that all about 'tween you two, Buck? I don't understand all this violence," he said bluntly. That man who just left, he was the one who didn't talk to people. He wasn't the one who made toys for Mary's boy, or tipped his hat to ladies, or nursed his injured friends. Nathan realized with a sickening feeling that he might be finally getting into the mystery, the contradictions that defined the man.

Buck shrugged carefully, obviously uncomfortable. "There ain't nothing to understand. That's just the way Chris is."

"Just the way he is with you, you mean."

Buck's eyes jerked up, cold and hard for an instant, but they softened before Nathan even had time to react. "He ain't perfect, Nathan. Hell, he ain't never been anything like perfect. Nobody is. But he's always been Chris, and that's enough. You don't need me to tell you that."

Maybe he didn't, maybe he did. The violence in Chris Larabee wasn't always reserved for criminals and scum. All of them had tasted it at one time or another. Buck got more than his fair share of it, and gave back some of his own. Seeing them cut at each other like they just had, knowing at least a little of what they felt, it tied his guts in knots. "Here, relax your arm. Lemme look at this." He mixed the poultice, spread it over the ugly swelling around Buck's shoulder joint, and rewrapped the arm.

The gash, he cleaned and rebandaged. He'd made the skin stitches extra-small at Buck's insistence, but they looked to be holding, and he trusted that the sewing he'd done on the inside was neat and strong. Looked like Buck was listening to him about not using that hand too much, because the swelling was going down, too.

"Y'all fight like that a lot?" Nathan asked, unable to leave it alone.

"That wasn't fighting," Buck said mildly. "We stopped that foolishness years ago."

"Well what do you call what you just done, then?"

Buck looked toward the closed door, and something wounded shone from his eyes. "That was just Chris being contrary."

Nathan wondered how often they must do this, for it to seem normal to Buck, that the cruelty was a part of them, a habit. How had their friendship borne it, if it had to suffer that? "He wasn't the only one being contrary," Nathan corrected, "and you c'n stop right now." Or was this something new? He hadn't missed Buck's obvious dig. "You ain't got no cause to be mad," he said carefully, feeling his way.

"Leave it alone, Nathan," Buck said, a cold, tired warning in his voice.

"Don't waste your time worryin' about Chris," he continued anyway. "Worry 'bout them arms, instead."

Buck peered down at himself. "That's nothing, they'll be fine."

Nothing. Fine. One day, he was going to injure the man his own self. "All right," he finally pronounced, easing Buck's shirtsleeves back up, "if you're so fine, how come you're still up here?"

Buck grinned. "Because you told me to stay here? Because Chris told me to?"

"You ain't never listened to none of us before." And it was true; Buck was awake, and ambulatory, and usually he spent his time recovering from injuries in the saloon, or in the arms of some woman.

The smile softened a little. "Long as I'm up here, everybody needs to come up and sit a spell. All this private socializing might not be so easy when I'm back in my own room."

Nathan released a breath he'd been holding since dinner. At least Buck seemed aware of the potential problems. "I ain't so sure I'm comfortable with this private socializing up here, Buck," he said slowly. "And I don't like the idea of Chris 'n you fighting up here, neither."

"I told you, we weren't fighting."

"Whatever it was," he said, meeting Buck's troubled blue eyes, "it ain't right, you two tearin' at each other like that."

"Nathan, would you just--it's nothin'!"

Nothing. Right. Buck was getting agitated, and he was getting nowhere. "All right," he said, changing the subject. "I don't want you having relations up here."

As a distraction, it worked well enough. Buck looked mock-gruff. "That's it, I'm leaving." And he made to rise.

"This is serious," Nathan grumbled, irritated. "You and Vin, Ezra, even Chris it looks like, y'all are actin' like rabbits, and it ain't right."

Buck stared at him for a long moment, then flopped back on the bed in a loose-limbed sprawl. "You ain't gonna tell me I was that bad, are you?" he asked in that honeyed voice, his grin so inviting, so...

"Don't you go doin' that now," he ordered. That voice, he had learned, knew how to wrap around his insides and just nuzzle them, gaining his body's full attention. "I mean it." He stood and collected his tools, moving to set them by the door for washing, later.

"I ain't doing anything but layin' here, Nate."

"I said stop that and I meant it!" he snapped, losing his patience. "If you're gonna act like that, just go ahead and follow Chris to wherever he went, and act like that." He hadn't known how angry they made him, all these carnal practices, until the conversation was upon him. Buck and Vin--and Ezra and Chris, he acknowledged sickly--were going to get them all killed.

"Yeah," Buck said bitterly, "he was really wanting time with me when he left."

"Then why--" he cut off the words, and forced himself to think clearly. "That ain't important right now," he muttered. "What's important is that I don't like how y'all are behaving, and I think it ought ta stop."

Buck tightened like a watchspring even as Nathan watched, started to throw his left arm over his head, and cursed at the pain. "All right, all right," he said tightly. "I got the message, Nate, you ain't got nothing ta worry about from me. I'll go someplace else." And Buck sat up and threw his legs off the edge of the bed before Nathan realized what was happening.

"You ain't got to leave Buck," he said, trying to feel his way through the currents eddying around him. Vin had said something about closeness... he walked back to the bed and sat down on its edge, pressing his leg against Buck's thigh. Buck looked surprised, but he relaxed a little, and Nathan reckoned they all had a lot more to learn about each other. "We's all here for you, every one of us," he soothed. "And I ain't telling you to leave. But you're hurt, and me, I'm all jumbled up inside." Honesty, he told himself, was something Buck would appreciate. "Layin' with you, it was a sweet thing, but maybe I ain't made the way you are. I don't think about that all the time; I don't need it all the time. I'd prefer we let some other things get themselves sorted out a'fore you go temptin' me again."

Buck looked startled, then broke into a soft smile. "Hell, you and me don't got to fuck very often, or even do much at all, Nate. That was just pretty much that one time, to protect you all from the Red Stone pack."

But even the holding, the touches Buck seemed to crave, were dangerous. He cleared his throat. "About you and me. It don't take carnal relations to bring trouble down on us. Buck, I'm a black man and you're a white man. Men's bad enough, but black and white's gon' be worse." He looked over and caught Buck trying to swallow back a grin. "What are you laughing at?"

"Not laughing," Buck answered, a mischievous grin on his face. "Just thinking about black and white, and how pretty your black skin was pressed up against mine. Did I ever tell you about this woman in Mexico, name of Juanita? She must've had some Negro in her, because her skin was the color of nutmeg, and it was so beautiful, and when I'd watch my hand against it--"

"Shut up," he sniped, only half-heartedly. Nathan prayed that God really did protect children and fools, or they were all in a heap of trouble. "You know how serious I am, Buck. You know how dangerous this could be. These folks, they c'n turn mean so fast."

Buck heard the tremor in the healer's voice, and smelled the fear on him. He wanted to say, "Try being a Two-Blood sometime," but it wasn't the same; Nathan could never hide his color, and had no place where he was completely safe. Well, not until they'd formed this pack. But he didn't know how to explain that, didn't know how to share the joy of what they could all be for each other. It had started already. Didn't Nathan understand that? He leaned his weight against Nathan, enjoying the feel of a body taller, bigger than his own. Only Nathan was.

Nathan's arm settled around his shoulder, mindful of his injuries, and Buck so appreciated this man, the gentleness that was a part of him like it was a part of women, the way he only lashed out with words, if at all. Nathan's hands were by far the most kind, of any of the Seven, and the idea that Nathan feared touching, or being touched, just because his hands were that beautiful chocolate color... "Ain't fair," he breathed.

"Maybe not," Nathan agreed, "but that's the way it is."

The walnut smell of him so close, especially given that Nathan had just now said how dangerous touching was, reminded Buck again that he could rely on these people to hold him up if need be, until things settled out. Nathan couldn't help but care for them all.

JD loved him even when he was as scared as a rabbit watching the hawk swoop in.

Ezra was showing his true colors, and Vin had already declared his claim and firmly set his rules.

And Chris... well, however things settled, he knew Chris cared. Even if he did have a funny way of showing it sometimes.

Family, he thought again, pressing a little harder, until Nathan had to push back to keep them balanced upright. As long as they didn't let fear take over, or kill each other, they were all family now.

CHAPTER 9

Chris stood in the dark at the bottom of the stairs for who knew how long, drawing deep, hard-won breaths. He stared at the flames off a nearby street fire until his eyes burned. This wasn't going to work.

Good lord, he'd gone up there early this afternoon, had welcomed Buck's kisses in front of everyone, had watched that big hand settle two inches from his manhood and left it there while they ate dinner, feeling its heat like a brand on his thigh. He had lain with Buck as Buck had asked, had dropped off to sleep like a babe in its mother's arms, and it wasn't enough.

He'd woken up, been intimate with Buck and Ezra--Chris sat down hard on the steps, able finally to react to what he'd done, now that he was out from under Buck's watchful eyes. It hadn't hit him at the time, hadn't seemed unbearable even when he woke from a post-coital doze naked, warm, indolent, his cock half-hard like it knew who it was nuzzling against. Not even when he met Ezra's cautious stare had he panicked. It had seemed funny, in light of what they'd done, that Ezra would be nervous just to be seen lying there in the light of a lamp.

"Five dollars says his dick's as hard as a brick," Chris had said, yawning, and that had done the trick. Ezra's eyes had widened, he had laughed aloud and shaken his head, and wisely pointed out that there weren't odds high enough to make that bet worthwhile. Buck had stretched and pressed back against him, and naturally, easily, he had nuzzled into the back of that strong neck, enjoyed the give and press of flesh against his body, breathed in that heavy, never-forgotten scent.

Drowsy, replete, he had watched Ezra slide naked from the bed and prepare for his evening; water poured, more lamps lit and trimmed high, Ezra had rooted out and used Nathan's shaving kit as if it were his own, sitting before the little square mirror unselfconsciously naked. Chris had never imagined Ezra Standish could be so comfortable outside the armor of his finery--the man slept in trousers and suspenders on the trail--but there the evidence had sat right before his eyes, straight spine and smooth skin and supple curves gleaming in the light and shadows of the lamps. Ezra had been contentedly silent all the while, and at the time Chris had been sleepy enough to be glad. When Ezra had finally begun to pull on his clothes, Chris had leaned up on an elbow and looked down to watch Buck watching Ezra, knowing as he did that Buck liked to see a body get covered up almost as much as he liked to see it revealed.

It had been such an indulgent moment, seeing Ezra's comfort, sensing the peace in Buck that went bone-deep, so deep that Chris could feel it where their bodies pressed together.

When Ezra had approached the bed, tugging on lace shirt cuffs and saying something about relieving miners of their purses, Chris had rolled to his back and welcomed the smile, the bold kiss goodnight. It hadn't felt odd to lie there naked while a fully dressed Ezra Standish made his way to the door. It had felt comfortable, familiar.

Almost as comfortable and familiar, in fact, as crawling on top of Buck and staring down into his eyes, trying to find a focus but falling into them instead. Buck had looked so serene, and his body had been so typically, artlessly responsive, that the slow kisses and equally slow rubbing, the heat and warmth and unnamed affection had been all that was needed to finish him again. Wordlessly, he had finished Buck off too, then they had both risen, and Chris had cleaned them both up. They had dressed companionably, him helping when Buck winced or moved wrong.

Everything had been fine until Nathan had come in. In fact, Nathan had seemed downright strange at the door. But Nathan had dropped into a chair and stared blankly out that dark window, and Chris had turned back to the mirror and stared at his own face, and the world had come back into focus. Buck was the randy old goat, not Chris. Buck was the one who sauntered around looking like the cat who got the cream, not Chris. Buck was the one who always looked replete, happy, carefree. And when Chris had seen all those things staring back at him from that mirror, he had started, rightly, to panic. He made the mistake of looking to Buck for support, but the son of a bitch was staring at him intently, like it was the last time Buck expected to see him. He had seen that look so many times before.

Damn it to hell, he had a right to be uneasy with all of this! Buck was uneasy, had admitted as much at the cabin, the night all this had started. Any normal, sane person would be uneasy, uncomfortable, scared as shit, sure he was insane for even believing any of this. Chris had the sudden desire to go back upstairs and make Buck change into a wolf again, just to be sure he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

Fuck that. Even if it was his imagination, the result of some spell or weed or boiled mushroom, all that sex had been real enough. And good, a tiny voice in his head reminded, don't forget it was damned good. Frighteningly good, more intimate than he'd been with anyone in years, and all the more terrifying for that. He propped his forehead up on his raised palm, teetering on the brink of running. He wouldn't, if only because he refused to think of himself as a coward, but the thought was so very appealing; go to Purgatorio, buy whiskey and a woman, drown in forgetfulness. And when (if, his mind whispered) he returned to this town, he'd find that they'd managed just fine without him just like they always had, that Buck or Vin had taken his place as lead dog and the rest had drawn tight together, and if he was lucky Buck would bare his teeth and run him off for good.

Above the crackle of the street fire, quiet footsteps thudded in the dirt. He jerked his head up in time to watch Vin strolling toward him in the moonlight, stopping just a few feet away.

"Chris," Vin said quietly, looking normal and content and satisfied. Vin looked more openly happy, in fact, than Chris could remember him ever looking.

"Don't," he snarled. "Just--don't."

"Don't what?"

Jerking his head up, glaring daggers at Vin, he sliced his hand through the air to warn the man off. Vin's face went carefully cool, and he stared for a long, tense moment.

"He all right?" Vin asked, obviously bracing himself for bad news.

Of course, that'd be everybody's first question. Of course, God damned good-natured, everybody-loved-him Buck would be the one people worried about. Could they not see how self-reliant the man was, how spoiled, how artfully manipulative, that he had everyone running at his beck and call? "Oh, he's fine," Chris spat. "He's just fine."

He stared at the fire, eyes watering with the effort not to look back over at Vin, and remembered what Buck had shown him, what he should have guessed on his own. God damn it, nothing was safe and simple anymore! When Vin took another step toward him, he tensed, waiting for anything, for any wrong word.

"Chris, you ain't got to do this all on your own."

The words were quiet, barely a breath on the air, and Chris felt the old rage rise in him like a flood tide. Here was another person reaching out a helping hand, a hand he wanted to bite off because with it came the obligation, the feelings, and the certain knowledge that he was helpless against whatever might happen--he gripped at his temples, pressing hard. He couldn't afford this, hadn't asked for it.

Something touched his shoulder and he exploded up off the steps, squaring off, startling Vin a pace backwards. "You know what?" he snarled, jabbing his finger at Vin, "You need to get the hell out of my way and tend to your own business!"

He couldn't see Vin's face well enough to read it in the darkness by the stairs, but the rest of his body spoke volumes; Vin didn't duck his head, his shoulders didn't slouch in submission, and he didn't make some diversionary joke. He just said firmly, with utter conviction, "You know what, Chris? I think you just mistook me for somebody else. That ain't a mistake you can afford to make too often."

Chris found himself in a painfully familiar place, trapped firmly between the desire to apologize, and the desire to pummel Vin into the ground for challenging him. Crazily, his heart careened between the hunger for all these finer feelings, and the terror of losing them if he allowed them in again. His throat squeezed so tight he wasn't sure he could make a sound if he tried, and he stood there helplessly while Vin cocked his head to one side, examining him.

"You are my business now, Chris," Vin finally said, "all a' y'all, more'n you ever were before. Until you accept that, you and everybody else is in for a world of pain. Ain't no way out of this but through."

"No..." he heard himself say, horrified at how meek and small the word sounded.

"Aww, Chris..."

Chris took a hesitant step forward, and just when he was positive he was going to reach out rather than run like hell, a howl rent the air.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

In the saloon, Ezra Standish sat hard on his impulse to react, while JD shoved his chair back and jumped to his feet. "Appearances, gentlemen," he breathed, trying to remind them of where they were; several nearby patrons had already turned to stare at JD in surprise.

Josiah caught on, and Ezra silently commended the stolid man for nudging his half-full whiskey glass across the felt. "JD," Josiah said a little too loudly, "if your hand's that bad, son, just fold."

In front of the livery, Chris spun around, trying to identify the source of the sound. Buck wasn't doing it; he was familiar enough already with the noises Buck made to be sure of that. It wasn't coming from above anyway, but from somewhere outside town. Bouncing around the canyons and hills, distorted by the wind, it could be coming from anywhere. Chris couldn't begin to pinpoint it.

A second voice joined the first, then a third. A fourth.

"Maybe it's real wolves," Vin ventured, not sounding hopeful.

Chris' skin felt like ants were crawling all over it. "We're not that lucky."

"Don't know," Vin said, a smile in his voice as he turned toward the stairs, "I been lucky a couple a' times, lately."

If he weren't so out of sorts, Chris would have groaned; the joke was barely worthy of Buck, who positively thrived on comments like that.

Buck stood stock still on Nathan's landing, sniffing the air. He had managed to shake Nathan loose long enough to get out the door, where his senses might be of more use. Four at least, from the sound of them, and maybe they were southeast of town. Raising his head, he sucked in a lungful of air to warn them off when Chris' voice, easy from the stairs, said, "Don't, Buck."

"Where are the rest of you?" Buck demanded, fear for his friends displacing all other concerns.

Vin, just in front of Chris with one foot on the landing, had his head cocked, using his ears to replace his eyes up here in the dark. "I left 'em down in the saloon, just a few minutes ago. No reason to think they ain't still there."

"Somebody go round 'em up, 'specially JD," Buck urged, memory creeping in with all the subtlety of a freight train. He heard his mother's screams, her sobs, the ineffectual whimpers and groans as the life slowly left her; he saw her eyes, tears leaking from them, light blue like summer rain falling from the sky and staring straight at him with such sorrow, and he knew in his gut that JD was their weak link. Youngest, most cocksure, JD was the place a pack would strike if they could. If they got JD, if they hurt him, they'd learn what it was to be hunted across a continent.

"Easy, big fella." He was backed up against the rail and Chris was right in front of him, and Buck for his life couldn't say how the man had gotten so close. "C'mon now, easy." A hand touched his ribs, soothed down over his belly, ruffling the fabric of his shirt. Buck tried to obey.

"We've got to get JD close," he urged again, staring straight into Chris' eyes. "He ain't got no idea how to handle himself."

"He'll be all right," Chris said, his voice pitched low and smooth. "He's with Ezra and Josiah, they ain't gonna let anything happen to him." Buck appreciated his partner's effort more than he could say, found himself leaning into that slow, soothing touch on his belly.

"'Sides," Vin continued, his boot heels making muted thumps as he walked to the railing and looked up the street, "them hollers, they ain't in town."

"No, those ain't," Buck said darkly. "But there's thirteen in that pack." Who knew how many had come back, or why? He didn't know these particular voices, but the chances of it being anyone but Red Stone were slim to none.

"The alpha bitch will stay with her mate," Vin said quietly, "won't she?"

"I reckon," Buck said, frowning. He knew Two-Blood nature because he shared it, but he didn't know much about this pack individually; he couldn't predict anything about them, now that John was down.

"And that red-haired one, Georgia, and the young one she rides with, they didn't look like stirring up trouble."

"That leaves five unaccounted for, if there's four out there howling," Chris said. Down the street, three dark forms separated from the shadows and stepped off the boardwalk, and Buck sent up a silent prayer of thanks: Josiah's big silhouette, Ezra's shorter, squarer one, and JD's in the middle, headed their way. He turned into Chris' arm, using his own arm to tug his friend forward as he stepped up to Vin.

Vin's eyes darted up, seeking blindly as Buck nudged against him. His head tilted and he sighed, then pulled Buck into a hug, one hand worming between Buck's back and Chris' chest, the other reaching longer, stretching around them both. Vin leaned so hard that Buck nearly stumbled backward, but then Chris adjusted his stance and pushed back from behind. The anchors of their weight against his body steadied him, helped him rein in the panicked thoughts that spun individual horrors in every direction.

"We's outside, y'all stop that!" Nathan hissed. As if reacting to the words, both Chris and Vin hugged him harder, nearly squeezing the breath from him, and he was grateful.

"It's all right, Nate, it's dark," Vin whispered, his breath walking reassuringly along Buck's throat.

Against the back of his neck, Chris' breath danced, "Don't matter anyway, Nathan; he's shaking, he needs it."

I don't need it, Buck thought he should say, I just want it real bad. But he kept his mouth shut and breathed as deeply as he could, squashed between the two men. When he exhaled, he let all the tension out with his air, letting Chris and Vin pretty much hold him up. Even with the howling out there, he couldn't remember when he'd felt so safe or so understood. Those other Two-Bloods might carry his blood, but they didn't know him, not like Chris did. They might claim him as kin, but they didn't care about him, not like Vin or JD or Ezra did. They didn't want for him what he wanted for himself, not like Josiah and even Nathan did. And they wouldn't have sacrificed the things the rest of the Seven had risked in countless ways, both before and after they had learned what he was.

Buck was shaking, all right. Until he had heard that singing, he hadn't known that fear could instill such a killing fury in him anymore. He stood with his pack mates, trying to judge how many were out there, trying to be sure they weren't being flanked by others, secure in the hard press and warmth surrounding him until Josiah and Ezra and JD arrived.

"What--oh no, come on, this ain't even the time for that stuff," he heard JD complain, and while Chris ignored the words and held on tight, Vin slipped away from him. Buck tracked with his eyes, startled when Vin walked straight to JD and whacked him on the back of the head.

"First thing out of Buck's mouth was to ask where you were, make sure you were safe," he hissed, "and you're whining like a kid. Now he's scared and upset and he needs us, so quit that shit right now."

"He's right, JD," Chris whispered, and Buck bent his neck to the hot breath that moved across it. "Buck's shivering like a spent horse. It ain't what you thought it was."

Buck watched JD's outrage turn to worry, and smiled when the young man stepped up to him even though it was likely too dark for JD to see it. "Buck?" JD asked, barely breaking the silence. "You ain't all right?"

"Worried about you, is all," he reassured. "All of you."

"JD, take care of him," Chris ordered, and Buck was so proud when JD, still frowning, didn't hesitate to take Vin's place. Chris stepped out from behind him but kept a hand on his back, while Buck comforted himself with the nervous, embarrassed, determined body that clung to him like a leech. "Vin, slip out and scout the town, see if you c'n find any--"

"No!" Buck exploded before he could stop himself, and breathed hard through his nose to keep a growl from his throat. "Chris, don't send nobody out. They c'n see better in the dark than y'all can, you'd be giving them too big an advantage."

Chris Larabee was getting damned sick of hearing about these superhuman werewolves. "Just out of curiosity," he sniped, glaring Buck's way, "is there anything these Two-Bloods can't do better 'n us?"

"Plenty," Buck said, his whispered voice low. "There's things y'all do all the time that they ain't never done at all."

The dense emotion that roughened Buck's voice brought Chris up short; the man wasn't talking about fighting skills. It hit him again, a fist to his gut that made him tighten his belly and suck in his breath, what Buck felt for him, what Buck had always felt. But he couldn't afford to pay attention to it, couldn't afford to feel what that emotion could call up in him. Not now. "Anything useful?" he asked, dry.

"Gentlemen," Ezra interjected quietly, "May I suggest that we move this conversation indoors? I see no reason to whisper and skulk when, by moving ten feet, we can enjoy the privacy of Nathan's room."

"You better not be plannin' on enjoyin' no more than privacy, Ezra," Nathan muttered, but Chris caught something that almost sounded like humor in the black man's voice, and wondered what had happened to settle Nathan down.

"Move your asses," he ordered smoothly, steering Buck and a stumbling JD toward the door. If there was some Two-Blood scout out there, peering through the pitch to measure for weaknesses, he wasn't going to make its job easier.

Chris kept a hand on Buck until Buck and JD were inside, then took up a seat by the foot of the bed. Everyone touched him, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it right now. Josiah's hand squeezed his shoulder. Nathan merely brushed his arm in passing. Ezra paused, smiled, and stroked his cheek in an achingly intimate gesture that should have had him blushing in front of the others. Instead, he surprised himself by reaching up, tugging Ezra's head down close enough to share his air. That close, mouths just inches apart, staring into Ezra's eyes and watching Ezra stare right back, Chris felt his body coming alive. It wasn't a masculine reflex, nothing so carnal or obvious, but something else that he couldn't yet name. Ezra's sharply indrawn breath dragged cool air across his lips, and Chris, sighing, closed the distance for a brief pressing of mouths.

He heard a muted thump alongside the scraping of chairs, and Buck's quiet, "Hush now, JD," and started to smile.

Then Vin stopped before him, looking down with a slow, speculative eye that wiped the grin right off Chris' face. Vin's hair caught the light from the lamps, scattering threads of gold into the tangled brown and making a frame for the depths of his eyes. "I figure, if everyone else gets ta do it..." and without a word Vin leaned down, sliding a hand around his neck. The blunt fingers were warm and dry, and gooseflesh ran down his spine.

"Vin..." he warned, but he couldn't say who he was warning, nor what he was warning against. This was hardly the time or--Vin's mouth met his before he could finish the thought. Vaguely it occurred to him that this, in the middle of the night, in front of everybody, with their enemies' voices riding on the wind outside, was their first kiss.

It was sweet and wild, and Chris understood better now why Buck and Ezra had been so desirous of these kisses.

When Vin drew back, smiling again, Chris said gruffly, "Get on over there," cursing his quick breaths, the certain knowledge that both of them still smelled of Buck, and the fact that this room was seeing more sex than a whorehouse.

When he glanced furtively around, he found only Ezra watching him, his gaze quiet and contemplative. JD was staring at Buck, disgusted, while Buck stared back and soberly shook his head. Josiah and Nathan had their heads down together, as if they hadn't seen the exchange at all, and Vin--Vin went exactly where Chris expected him to: the straight-backed chair next to Buck. Wordlessly, Vin stood before JD, intimidating the boy until he scowled and gave up his seat. Vin sprawled down into the chair and leaned close to Buck, resting his arm along Buck's thigh. JD did maybe the most useful thing, given Buck's frame of mind; he dropped to the floor and leaned his back against Buck's shins. Well, Chris had given Buck over to JD's care. The young man might be excitable, but he took his responsibilities seriously.

Chris noticed next how steadfastly people had avoided the bed. Ezra was the only one who sat on its edge, marking one side of a circle that extended toward Nathan's desk. Buck sat in the chair by Ezra with Vin to his right, and Josiah leaned against the desk itself. Nathan remained standing. Chris couldn't think about that right now, couldn't let his attention lapse to the fact that the bed reeked of sex, of Buck and of him and Ezra, and probably a little of Vin, too. He couldn't think about the fact that everyone in this room was pretty clear how everyone else in this room had spent their time today...

He looked again to Buck, found the insufferable bastard smirking at him. One day, Buck Wilmington, he thought, I'm going to get you back for all of this. Aloud he said, "Now what about Two-Bloods do we need to know?"

The lecture was painfully short. "Two-Bloods generally think of their wolf self as their true self," Buck began, slow, almost like he was betraying these secrets, "and most of 'em fight better in fur. They hunt in groups, they sleep in groups, they eat in groups, and unless it's a challenge, Two-Blood to Two-Blood, they fight in groups." That was good; they could rely on whoever was out there staying together, keeping the possible attack fronts to one or two.

"They don't get mad easy," Buck continued, "but when they do, they get, I don't know, stupid or something. They don't think, they just throw themselves at whatever's in their way--"

"They get mad like you," Chris interrupted. "That's good for us."

"What do you mean?" Buck asked. Beside him, Vin raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. Josiah looked heavenward. JD actually chuckled, while Nathan and Ezra had the grace to hide their grins, looking away or at the floor. Buck glared. "What?"

It was Nathan who voiced it for them. "No offense, but you ain't got no finesse when you're real mad, Buck. You just leap right into the fire and you lose all perspective."

"That ain't true!" he denied hotly. "I got all the finesse in the world."

"Buck," this from Ezra now, and Chris actually began to enjoy this show, "your idea of finesse makes our Mr. Larabee here look like the Ambassador to England. While I'll grant that you don't get truly angry often, when you do, you don't think at all. I can't tell you how much money I've won, betting against you when you're irate."

"I don't know what the hell y'all think you're talking about," Buck grumbled, obviously disliking the criticism.

"How about when any lady within a mile of you gets scared or hurt or somethin'?" JD offered, gleeful. "Like when Miss Inez got threatened by that crazy Mexican, and you were out there accepting cockamamie duels to the death!"

Regretfully, Chris decided to pull them back on track. "Don't matter none, because you ain't gonna fight unless you're told, right?" Chris broke in, testing the leash. Buck looked startled, then ducked his head. Chris didn't miss the way Buck's hand twitched toward Vin's, and he worried more than he wanted to say about all of Buck's touching. Had those doubts always been there? Or were they new, something started with this pack that would make Buck less effective? "I ain't kiddin', Buck. You do not go off half-cocked, and you do not do anything without me knowing about it first, you understand me?"

Buck nodded shortly in that automatic way so characteristic of him. "Yeah."

"All right. What else can you tell us?"

Buck shrugged. "They see better, hear better, smell better. They ain't stronger in human form than a One-Blood built like 'em, but maybe they're a mite faster. Most of 'em don't shoot as well as a practiced One-Blood, but I never knew why."

"I think I do," Vin said softly. He looked over at Buck, sharing some wordless, animal communication that really, truly pissed Chris off. Later. He'd cope with it later. "They don't practice fighting on two legs as often as they do on four. The Dry Pond pack, lots of 'em spent nearly all their time in wolf shape. And those that didn't still didn't fight that way. They didn't even roughhouse much on two legs, not even when they was playing with One-Bloods." Vin had slowly turned his head while he talked, taking in the whole circle of men.

"When Dry Pond went on ceremonial hunts with the tribe, they weren't no good with bows and arrows neither. A brave I shared a tent with, he was mighty close to some of 'em. He said the gods gave Dry Pond too many choices, and that they narrowed 'em down by being one thing as humans, and one thing as wolves."

"John Doe fought plenty good in human shape," Josiah pointed out. Now that was an understatement.

Vin nodded. "Yeah. And that was with knives. Did you watch how he moved? Low to the ground, knife held pointed backwards, 'stead of forwards? Buck did the same thing. And they both started off injuring limbs, whereas a man would have gone straight for the body. You take out a limb on a creature that needs all four of 'em to walk, you slow him way down. But us, we think different."

"That's good for us, if it's true of all Two-Bloods," Chris said, nodding slowly. Possible strategies presented themselves for consideration; if they could use Two-Bloods' very nature against them, they had strong advantages that the Red Stone pack members might not even be aware of.

"I think it is," Buck offered. "The Two-Blood who gave me most of my teaching, she said I was unusual, staying upright so much like I did." Buck chuckled, rueful. "She also told me more'n once that I fought like a cub in the wild. In the woods, on four legs," he clarified.

"The howlin's stopped," Nathan said suddenly. It had, and the hackles on Chris' neck prickled.

"What does that mean, Buck?" he demanded, wishing he could see into Buck's brain, but Buck didn't look like he had a clue. "Vin?"

"Means they figure we know they're here," he told Chris. "I don't reckon they'll come into town before morning, if at all. I c'n scout around to be sure though, look for sign whenever you and Buck say."

Chris worried the inside of his lip, hating to risk them to the dark but knowing everyone was deaf, dumb and blind without reconnaissance. "Ezra, Vin, Buck, you've had more sleep. Ez, I want you up in the church steeple while the moon's out. Take Vin's spyglass. See if you can spot anything that'll tell us where they are. Vin, Buck, you two make a circuit or two around town and see if you find any sign of them. And stay together. Buck, if you smell 'em or see anything out of place, you both high-tail it back. We're in the dark without you two, and we can't afford to be."

Buck nodded and made to rise, and JD scrambled to his feet. "What do you want me to do, Chris?"

"You, Josiah, Nathan and me, we sleep."

"Sleep!" JD sounded outraged, and Chris remembered, as if from another life, when he had the kind of energy JD did now. "How are we s'posed to sleep?"

"Sleepin's the best thing we can do, son," Josiah said, and pushed up off the desk. "We ain't no good to nobody if we ain't ready when the time comes." Chris nodded in satisfaction; Josiah had the years and the experience to understand a soldier's attitude toward fighting. He'd be ready.

"I got some herbs I can cook up, JD," Nathan offered kindly. "They'll quiet you down enough that maybe you can get some rest." JD didn't look happy about it, but it appeared he understood the reasoning. He scuffed his boot against the boards and said nothing.

Next came the more pressing problem. Chris supposed just ordering it would be easiest, so... "All right, we double up tonight, I don't want anybody alone. Josiah, you stay here with Nathan; Ezra, you come back here before you lose the moonlight. Buck and Vin, you sleep in Buck's room when you get back. JD, you and I will bed down in your room."

"Uh," JD started, blushing.

"Why not let JD remain here, Chris?" Ezra asked politely. "Frankly, I can't abide the idea of being away from my own bed, if it isn't absolutely necessary, and I expect he might be more comfortable here."

"JD?" Chris asked, curbing his irritation. He didn't quite know how to tell the kid he hadn't meant anything and never would. Besides, JD would have to learn that he could say 'no,' and that nobody was going to push him into anything unwanted. If they even tried, they'd have Chris to answer to--that is, if Buck left anything of them to yell at.

JD looked relieved, and nodded vigorously.

"All right, then. Ezra, your room locked?" Ezra immediately produced a key from the breast pocket of his vest and tossed it over. The move was unstudied, casual-- premeditated, Chris realized, and paled. And Ezra had called him "Chris." He shook himself, forcing back a glare that threatened. He could say no, too. "Ez, don't stay up there long, I really do want you ready for anything tomorrow. And be careful coming back to the saloon. Come in the front."

He looked around, meeting every man's eye. "All right, then. Meet for breakfast in the morning, as usual. Ezra, you too. Any questions?"

Nobody said anything, for which Chris was relieved. The jolt of energy he'd got on hearing the howling had drained off, and his body was beginning to remind him how little sleep it had had the last few days.

Ezra stood to adjust his shirt cuffs and resettle his holster. Josiah stepped up to him, talking quietly about a loose board in the steeple and a rotted piece of the top step he had ripped up to replace.

Vin and Buck put their heads together and Chris thought first that they were deciding on a route until he heard Buck say, "Brave you shared a tent with, huh?" with all the subtlety of a prostitute on payday.

Vin used the backs of his fingers to whap Buck on his stitched arm, and Buck winced visibly, grunting. "Git your mind outta your pants," Vin snapped, before Chris could.

Ezra touched his hat brim and slipped out the door and Buck and Vin glanced silently at each other before following him. Good. He hadn't wanted to say it. He didn't want to make Ezra feel patronized, he just... he had a feeling.

He hated having feelings.

Staying for a last, brief warning to JD and a goodnight to the others, Chris left a couple of minutes after the other three, forcing himself to move silent and alert until he reached the dubious safety of Ezra's room.

He figured even an angry Two-Blood wouldn't risk crossing his path, the way his mood was blowing in. He pushed through the batwing doors of the saloon and barely spared the courtesy of a nod to Inez, behind the bar. Heading straight for the stairs, he wanted only to get to sleep before he got too wound up, before he thought about the fact that he had just sent Buck and Vin to bed together, before he admitted that he had put himself with JD so he could hide from Ezra. Nathan's room was the only safe place to be... He unlocked Ezra's door and felt his way in the dark, finding the bed with his shins. Muttering a violent curse, he tugged off his gear, stripped down, pulled out his gun and dropped like a sack of angry potatoes onto the bedspread.

Feather mattresses had something to be said for them; he was asleep in seconds.

CHAPTER 10

Josiah woke before dawn, when the moon was gone and the sun not yet born. Nathan, warm beside him, dozed peacefully, and he figured JD was on the cot doing the same; he couldn't see his hand in front of his face. A smile came unbidden; young John Dunne had gone on and on about his nerves and his excitement and how he'd never be able to sleep with them Two-Bloods out there, and had nodded off before his head hit the pillow.

He and Nathan had slid into bed like the brothers they were, and lain awake for some time, giving voice to their fears. And in the security of darkness, they had clasped hands atop the covers.

It wasn't just about Buck anymore; Josiah couldn't say now that this pack thing ever had been. They had chosen this collectively, even if they'd done it apart, and he knew in his heart that privacy was becoming a thing of the past. The simplistic notions of "right" and "proper" that the modern world maintained no longer applied, and all that was left was those moral absolutes that were so hard to lay hands to.

He stretched slowly, carefully so as not to wake Nathan. It was warm under the covers, baking relaxation into his muscles and making waking more pleasant. His aging body woke more slowly these days, and thank the Good Lord some bits of it didn't wake at all unless he encouraged them to. He was only mildly disturbed by how pleasant the body next to him felt.

They had all made the same choice, the same commitment, and now they'd have to find a way to live with it. He knew it would be hardest for Nathan, always a bit of an outsider no matter what he said. JD would have trouble too, carrying the narrow ideas of youth alongside his growing love for Casey Wells. Josiah couldn't say it would be easy for himself either, to watch Buck, Chris, Vin and Ezra acting more and more like breeding studs--and in their glory, too. The heat flickering in Vin's eyes after he'd kissed Chris last night was impossible to miss. Chris had tugged Ezra down for a kiss that looked too comfortable to be a first. Those two had gotten up to that, at least, yesterday.

And the benevolent way Buck had looked on, that radically open-minded gaze that encompassed all those carnal possibilities, was as remarkable as it was endearing. Josiah couldn't see a spark of jealousy, as if Buck simply didn't have it in his bones. He wondered if that was a trick he could learn. While he wasn't jealous, sleep and time had helped him to identify what he did feel: envy. It wasn't the appeal of the acts that he envied. He was still too Catholic, and too much in favor of the fairer sex to crave that, exactly. No, it was the growing need between those four. Silly thing to feel, with all the carnal encounters he had collected in his long life. Silly to want those younger men to look at him with the eyes they used for each other, especially when he couldn't say he'd welcome it. But he worried, as he thought Nathan might, that those four growing together would leave him and Nathan apart.

He had no idea how JD was going to fit into all of this.

Lying here feeling the warmth of a friend at his side, and remembering the friction of body to body and spirit to spirit with Buck, he knew that this wasn't a riddle he would solve easily. To want what you didn't really want simply because you didn't have it, that was to be human.

Carefully, he eased himself out of bed as the shadows thinned, deciding it best not to dwell on any of that until these intruders were taken care of and Buck came to him, if he chose to again. The last thing, the very last thing this party needed was another fellow who couldn't keep his mind off his phallus.

He could grab an early cup of coffee and wait for the others to rise; Mrs. Tipper likely hadn't been up long enough to cook it down properly, but a raw cup was better than no cup at all. Careful of squeaky boards, he tip-toed toward his gun belt on the desk. When he saw the narrow cot beneath the window clearly, his heart dropped all the way to his toes.

"Nathan!" he called out, "get up! JD's gone!"

CHAPTER 11

The sun was still below the horizon, and early morning light crept hesitantly into town, as if unsure of its welcome. Chris sat on the boardwalk, working on his second cup of fresh black coffee and trying hard not to philosophize too much. It sounded damned stupid when he did it, and Buck had heckled him about it plenty over the years. Still, there were so many questions that needed answering, and he had done his best to be honest.

A door opened and slammed down the street, sounded like it was coming from the livery. Boots pounded loudly on stairs, and Chris stood up, frowning. That was from Nathan's place for sure, there weren't two flights of stairs outdoors anywhere else in town. Peering in the early morning light, he spotted the silhouettes of Nathan and Josiah, careening around the corner of the livery at a dead run. Josiah veered off toward the boarding house, while Nathan headed in Chris' general direction.

Chris turned, looked back at JD who was still balancing on the back legs of his chair. "What's the matter with them?" he asked, genuinely curious.

JD, staring down the street toward Nathan, shrugged his ignorance, then used his shirtsleeve to wipe off his milk moustache.

Stepping off the boardwalk, Chris took a few steps into the street to intercept the healer. "Where's the fire, Nathan?" he asked, as Nathan skidded up, wild-eyed.

"JD, he's--" Nathan's eyes swept past him then, and the rounded, anxious look turned to a hard scowl. Nathan pulled off his hat and dusted it against his thigh. "He's sittin' there drinking his milk, happy as a clam, that's where he is."

Chris knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't hold back a chuckle at his men's expense. "What did you think he'd done, wander off into the desert?" he asked, sipping deeply from his cup.

"Give me some a' that," Nathan muttered, still obviously unhappy. He held out his hand for the coffee cup and Chris, reluctantly, surrendered it. "Could a' slept another half hour, maybe." He scowled JD's way again, and the boy finally got irate.

"Next time, I'll pin a note to your pillow. My guns were gone, my boots were gone--heck, I even made the bed!"

"Didn't know," Nathan said, still scowling, "or we wouldn't a' run out like that."

Chris kissed the end of his coffee goodbye and sighed. "Josiah go after Buck and Vin?"

"Yeah."

No telling what the man would find, at this hour. It didn't bear thinking about. "I'll go round up more coffee."

He stayed inside while Mrs. Tipper, one of the few townspeople he knew well enough to talk to because after all, he had to eat, skimmed cream off milk and filled a serving bowl. He made the smallest of talk and answered her questions about who was coming in, and listened as she voiced far too much pleasure that Buck was up and about.

She drained the last of an old pot into two cups. "Now those are for Vin and Josiah, you be sure they get them," she said, and Chris wondered what they'd done to piss her off. "Here, this is fresh," she continued, filling two more enamel cups. "The blue one is yours, and this red one, it's for Mr. Wilmington." He watched as she swirled a spoonful of honey into the red cup, wondering what, exactly, Buck had done to merit the treat, and how often he'd been doing it. "You sure you gentlemen won't come in and sit down? Biscuits'll be ready in ten minutes or so, and breakfast not long after that."

"We'll be back in, ma'am, I'll just take a tray."

By the time he got back out to the boardwalk, Josiah had arrived and was holding up a porch beam, smiling. Vin sat in JD's old chair, grinning as well, and Buck had JD in a headlock and was just dragging him off the boards and into the street.

"That coffee?" Buck dropped JD to the ground, neatly avoiding a bit of manure, and sniffed his way toward the tray.

"Yours is the blue one," Chris lied, and watched him pick up the cup, hesitate, and set it back down.

"Chris Larabee, you lie like a rug." Buck grabbed up the red cup, dousing it liberally with cream, and drank deep.

Well, it had been worth a try. He grabbed up his cup, leaving the dregs for Vin and Josiah.

"So," Buck taunted, laughing, "y'all got worried about the youngster here."

Josiah shrugged, taking his cup and swallowing a third of it, black as pitch. Vin stepped up to the tray as well, rescuing it as Chris overbalanced and nearly dropped it. Together they set it on the rickety table, and Vin grabbed up his cup. They all settled down for a bit, drinking their coffee in the pre-dawn quiet.

Vin reached over to JD and cuffed him good-naturedly. "We had to get up anyway, huh, kid?" he said quietly. "Buck, it's light enough, maybe you 'n me ought to take a quick look around, before breakfast."

Chris waited for Buck to meet his eyes, and nodded. "But don't screw around out there."

Buck grinned, set his empty cup on the table, and took off with long, ground-eating strides. Vin jogged along beside him.

That left Chris with JD, Nathan and Josiah. JD's mood had lightened considerably when he'd realized everyone was worried about him, but it was steadily darkening again. Brows furrowed, dark bangs sweeping like wings over his forehead, he was trying to hide behind all that too-long hair.

When Nathan went in for more coffee and to get started on fresh biscuits, Chris suggested, "JD, why don't you go wake up Ezra?" to give him something to do. "And ask him what you asked me." At JD's shocked look he ordered, "I ain't kidding around, you ask him, now."

JD frowned and kicked at a loose board. "All right," he mumbled, and started off toward the closed saloon and its side stairs to the second floor as if to his own hanging.

"Ask Ezra what?" Josiah asked, his eyes following JD.

Chris stared at the young man's retreating back, thinking about what JD had blushed and stuttered through this morning. He couldn't ever remember being that young. "He asked me how anybody could like having done to him what we all done to Buck, how a man could actually want that," he said softly.

"And you couldn't tell him?" Josiah asked the question casually, as if he was merely passing the time, and Chris saw his privacy going up in flames. As intensely as he begrudged the loss, he knew that to try to hold onto it was as useless as trying to catch smoke.

"Buck's the man who tripped me, Josiah. Until yesterday, he was the only man I'd ever been with, the only man I'd ever even kissed. So no," and his soft voice turned wry, "I didn't feel like the most qualified person to answer JD's questions."

Josiah felt his jaw drop open, and promptly snapped it shut. The physical ease Buck and Chris so often had with each other, the way Chris had behaved in the cabin after everyone's "marking," the way Chris preened, even if unconsciously, toward Vin's shuttered looks, Josiah had just assumed Chris was truly experienced in those things. And how many years had passed before last week since Chris and Buck had been that to each other?

Chris turned to stare at him, his eyes brave and unguarded and honest. "I figure the best man'd be Ezra. Maybe Vin," he added more hesitantly, anxiety flickering over his face. "I don't know for sure 'bout him."

No wonder Chris kept panicking. Hell, Josiah felt the urge to panic just on Larabee's behalf. He thought about wishing for what you didn't have, about thinking the grass was always greener, and he thanked God with all His names and genders and manifestations that the others weren't looking at him the way they looked at Chris.

What had transpired in Ezra's room last night, that Chris would send JD there for answers? Josiah couldn't imagine shared confidences in the dark between a gunslinger and a con man, not like the confidences he had shared with Nathan... and maybe that was exactly what had happened. However Chris had drawn Ezra Standish out, it didn't take a genius to infer what he had learned.

"Could be," he said gently, "that that makes you the very most qualified to answer JD's questions." Chris jerked his head around, blue eyes probing. "Ezra's reasons for lying with a man might be a lot more like a man's reasons for lying with a painted lady," Josiah explained patiently. "But love..." he trailed off, watching fear spark and kindle in Chris' eyes, then mentally shrugged and forged ahead. "JD might understand doing it for love."

"Shit," Chris laughed shortly, looking back out to the street. "He wouldn't understand doing it because Buck's got a silver tongue and a lewd mouth and a dick that gets hard when a breeze blows. Don't reckon he'd respect it much, neither."

"But that ain't the reason you did it."

"The hell it ain't." Chris flicked him a sardonic, sideways glance. "You got some idea how persuasive Buck can be."

And damned if Chris didn't sound like he believed his own words.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

JD stood in front of Ezra's door so long, he wasn't surprised when Ezra flung it open before he'd worked up the nerve to knock. The Richards staring him in the face, that surprised him. But the gun dropped away before he could do much more than swallow, letting him see something besides the yawning black hole in the barrel.

Ezra had already been awake, then. Clean shaven, wrapped in a dressing gown, with slippers on his unstockinged feet, the man was such a dandy, JD almost wanted to sneer.

"Come inside and close the door, young man," Ezra said, returning to his dressing table.

That Chris had told him to ask Ezra could only mean one thing, and the thought made JD feel vaguely queasy. All fancied up, with slippers and feather mattresses and perfumed soaps, Ezra seemed so obviously a-- What had Ezra himself called that cowboy in the dress? An effeminate man. A man who wanted to be a woman. What other kind of man had a dressing table in a town like Four Corners?

Well, Buck had a dressing table, with a little moustache comb and matching mirror set and everything. And Chris had one, without the neat little sets of anything--just a comb, a jar of pomade for his hair that he rarely used, and a shaving kit.

Come to think of it, he had one himself.

"I take it you have no pressing news," Ezra said, and JD realized how long he'd been just standing there in the doorway, saying nothing.

He looked up through his bangs. "Chris told me to ask you how a man could like what I done to Buck," he blurted, all in a rush. If he didn't get it out now, he never would. He hadn't wanted to say it at all, but he felt Chris had been right when he'd said if a man was old enough to judge it, he was old enough to say it out loud.

It was an effort for Ezra to keep the brush from shaking as he drew it through his hair. From somewhere he dredged up a small, sophisticated smile and pasted it on, checking its authenticity in the mirror. "He told you to ask me, did he? He offered you no advice, himself?"

"He said..." JD blushed furiously, muttered, "He just said there was things that felt good, up in there."

While technically correct, it was damned foolish to say something like that to JD. "Why not ask Buck himself?" he averred, keeping his voice steady and quiet so as not to frighten the boy any further.

"'Cause, well, Buck ain't a man, exactly." JD frowned, obviously incapable of coping with what he was saying. "Sort-of. I mean it must be different for him when--"

"It doesn't appear to be," Ezra interrupted, sparing both JD and himself. He gave up on the brush and moved on to dressing, suddenly very much desiring to be behind the screen partition in the corner. He had known when Chris woke in the middle of the night that the darkness was a dangerous thing. It was a tool to loosen tongues and encourage confidences, one he had used many times. And yet he had dressed for bed and crawled beneath the covers, and answered more questions truthfully than he had in twenty years. And this was his reward. That Larabee had returned the favor was hardly compensation, not with JD standing here asking him this question in broad daylight.

Taking trousers from a hanger and clean undergarments from a drawer, he said, barely containing his irritation, "JD, if you back up any further you'll break through the door and be out in the hall again. Sit down."

JD looked ready to cut and run. That wouldn't be so bad. It would give Ezra an opportunity to find Chris and pin him to a wall. Unfortunately, JD edged over to the chair Ezra had just vacated, the horizontal surface nearest the door that wasn't actually the bed. JD was breathing so quickly he risked hyperventilation, and that wouldn't be so bad, either. If JD passed out, he could step over the unconscious body and proceed on to breakfast.

All right, enough of this nonsense, he upbraided himself as he hid behind the screen. You are a thirty-one year old man, one who has seen and done more already than most people long-dead in their graves. There was no reason at all not to have an elucidating, urbane conversation about what, if not the birds and the bees did, certainly every kind of barnyard animal Ezra had ever seen did ... and he damned well wasn't going to do that without his pants on.

"Ezra?" Tentative. Alert. It looked like JD wouldn't pass out, after all.

"What's wrong with... with what Buck liked?" he asked from the ephemeral security of the corner.

"Ezra! Quit fooling around!"

"I assure you," he replied, dry-mouthed, "I'm not. What is intrinsically wrong with the act?"

"Everything! It ain't natural. It's gotta hurt for pete's sake. You're s'posed to be intimate with women, not other men, and a man ain't made to do such a thing as that at all. I bet it's a hanging offense, and they only hang you for things that are really bad, and I know the Bible says--"

"All right, all right." He tucked in his shirt, buttoned his fly, and gave up his meager privacy. JD, staring at his hands, looked desperate. "JD," Ezra offered gently, "the reasons men do things are as varied as the men themselves."

"Yeah, but how... Ezra, I can't even begin to think up how a man would find out other men do that kind of thing!"

"Don't I recall something about you having been a stable boy?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Surely you had studs under your care that were less discriminating than they should have been."

"You mean ones that tried to mount the geldings? Yeah. But they're animals, Ezra. That's just the point. We ain't animals. 'Cept maybe for Buck. Besides, the geldings always ran."

"I suspect they didn't all run," he said under his breath, earning himself a vicious glare. "May I tell you a story? It is personal in nature, but it is not like one of Buck's ribald tales." Indeed, he suspected it was some aspect of this story he had whispered in the dark that had compelled Chris to send JD here this morning.

Hesitant, obviously dreading it, JD nodded. He was a strong young man, if ignorant, and ignorance was an illness that could be cured. "Maude Standish is more subtle than women like Buck's departed mother, but she too has practiced the age-old profession of prostitution. To her grifting credit, my mother's paramours rarely realized they were paying her." Ezra smiled, easing himself away from those old hurts. Now wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity and confusion; JD was doing that just fine for everybody.

"Maude?" JD gasped, stunned. "Geez, was everybody's ma a whore but mine?!"

Ezra actually felt a chuckle bubble up. He suppressed it ruthlessly, buttoning on his suspenders and astutely ignoring JD's reputed illegitimacy. "Doubtless there are one or two unspoiled women left in the world. But that isn't the point of my story."

"Well what is the point?" JD demanded. His blush had deepened to the color of Ezra's favorite suit coat. Ezra couldn't entirely blame him.

Ezra eased into a chair, leaning back and crossing his legs, presenting the least threatening picture possible. "I was a prostitute of sorts, myself," he said bluntly. JD paled, but he shut up. "Mother had an eye for inverts, for men who liked to lie with men. Pederasts particularly, she could spot a mile away. And I was a very pretty boy, if I do say so myself." There, he had managed that without a quaver in his voice. "I was sometimes a necessary lure, for absolutely nothing gets money out of a wealthy man faster than the terror of having his private vices made public. Unfortunately--or not, depending on how you look at it--unless the man was truly a swine, my biggest problem became hiding my disappointment when 'caught,' because you see, I learned very quickly that I liked taking it in the ass."

JD's face changed in a flash, from confused ignorance to certain knowledge. He made it to the chamber pot before vomiting, and Ezra politely rose and wet a cloth in the washbasin. He couldn't believe he had said it like that. All right, he conceded, you have been unduly influenced by these uncivilized, foul-mouthed gunslingers. Stop that this instant.During the several silent minutes that followed, Ezra donned his socks and boots, selected an ascot and returned to his chair.

"Your own mother," JD croaked, after he had taken the cloth and wiped his face. "But I always liked her."

Now wasn't the time to voice his opinions on that particular subject. "Please don't misunderstand, she never forced me to do what I did. She merely opened my eyes to the possibility, and suggested that any intelligent young man would jump at the chance to fleece some rich bastard in exchange for a trivial and mechanical act. Of course," he added, trying desperately to keep his voice light, "it wasn't simply mechanical, for me."

JD blanched, but kept both his seat and his stomach. "But that don't, I mean--"

"You asked how a man learned that people do 'that kind of thing.' That was how I learned. And while my introduction was unseemly and motivated by the desire for financial gain, it was far preferable to Buck's; he was held down and taken by force." He paused, wondering if he should delve into Chris' secrets, and decided to hell with it; it was Chris' fault JD was sitting here. "Chris was fortunate, JD, as it was Buck who initiated him. I'm sure you know how patient and generous a bed partner our Mr. Wilmington can be."

JD shivered, and Ezra thought he was going to throw up again, but somehow he got a hold of himself. "But I don't want--I don't want to know 'bout it, Ezra! I sure as hell don't want to like..." he swallowed, hard, "something like that."

There it was, the crux of the problem. "Then your introduction is by far the easiest of all, as it is a purely intellectual pursuit. However, you mustn't think that a man who enjoys more, ah, esoteric pleasures, is different from you. He is not, and you have nothing to fear from him."

"Just tell me 'esoteric' ain't a dirty word."

Ezra smiled. He should not be so enjoying JD's discomfort, he knew--but somewhere around the moment he'd realized he would be around these foul-mouthed gun slingers for a long time to come, this had gotten damned entertaining. "Of or limited to a small group of initiates. It means, JD, that you're right, most people don't know or understand this particular sex act. I consider it an addition to everything else that makes a man a man, as it does not exclude all other forms of physical expression. A man who enjoys the act that Buck enjoyed with you can still enjoy a woman, a fight, a hunt, a play." He shrugged. "A con." He paused, measuring all the things he could say, and the most delicate ways to say them.

"Personally, I've found being... it... as satisfying as consummating with a woman. Not better, just different." At least JD wasn't staring at the floor anymore. He was staring straight at Ezra, trying desperately to understand. "Perhaps that is why I have welcomed the others and this new arrangement so easily."

If anything, JD's face grew paler still. He swayed a bit on the chair, but Ezra didn't dare rise or reach a hand out to steady him, as there was no telling whether he would misunderstand the touch.

"So you, Vin, Chris, you're all..."

"Your friends? People who were dedicated enough to Buck and to each other to take the risk we all took for him?"

JD blushed again, and Ezra supposed that color, after the recent visit to the porcelain goddess, was a step in the right direction. "That you're all men who like to... get it in the ass," JD tried and failed to repress a shudder, and Ezra wanted to laugh again, "like you said."

Straight-faced, gentle, he answered, "I can't speak for Vin, you'll have to ask him yourself if you wish to know. But for Buck, Chris and myself--yes, that is one thing we are." No sense sugar coating it at this late date. "It is one very small part of the men we are."

"Nobody um," he ducked his head, eyes darting wildly about the room, "nobody's thinkin' I like that, are they?"

It pained Ezra, to see that fear. "Of course not," he affirmed, thinking how even a man like himself would have been a blessing to the confused and frightened boy he had been, and that he wished Maude could know he harbored such decency as this; she would throw an apoplectic fit. "When we look at you, JD, we see a little brother, a loyal friend, a man who will protect and accept us as we protect and accept him." He suspected that he was lying, but that was hardly important at the moment.

JD looked up at him again, color high on his cheeks. "Even Vin? You know he was teasing me, last night at dinner."

"Now, now, calm down," he said, modulating his voice to the very most soothing of tones. "None of us would consider placing you in a situation you didn't want. You have my word that, should anyone make you uncomfortable, you need only tell me and I'll straighten the lout out." Ezra rose and stepped carefully to the mirror; he had made a mess of his tie. Unknotting it quickly, he let his hands perform the task without interference from his brain.

"Give it a little time, JD. You will survive this momentary conundrum."

"I don't know, Ez."

Ezra smiled, wanting to tell JD how well he had handled things so far. But he had revealed far, far, far too much already, a fact for which Chris Larabee would pay. Somehow. "I know. You'll be fine."

CHAPTER 12

Vin was the one who spotted the first sign. "Buck!" he hissed. "Look at this."

"God damn," Buck cursed when he caught up to Vin and shouldered in beside him.

Dirty handprints, looked like someone about Vin's height, marked the wall behind the saloon, right under the kitchen window. "So the dew settled last night," Vin said, investigating as they followed the marks, thinking it out. "Sometime late, maybe an hour or two before dawn, two of 'em ran in on four legs, quieter than horses would have been. When they both changed to human form their hands were still dirty, and they walked naked behind these buildings--for what?"

"Sniffing for us," Buck growled. Vin could almost see his hackles rising.

"But why not stay in wolf shape? Why risk bein' caught naked?"

"Nails scrabble on wood," Buck said flatly. "They couldn't rear up and look in windows without making sounds on the walls. 'Sides, they're taller on two legs."

Damn. These Two-Bloods were smart, or at least careful. He was surprised they'd left any sign at all. "Come on," he breathed, "let's find out where they came into town."

Together they backtracked along the trail of bare feet, keeping their heads up, trying to be casual so as not to attract the attention of any townsfolk about, and destroying the tracks as they went. Maybe fifty yards past the laundry, the intruders had picked up something to drag behind them coming in. Buck started sniffing overtly, and Vin couldn't help it; he started laughing.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say nothin'!" he defended, still sniggering.

"Well shut up anyway."

"I just never seen you do that before."

"And you never will again," Buck glared, "if you're gonna hound me about it!"

"Hound you... Git it? Hound you..." he was laughing so hard it hurt his belly. He could barely walk, but Buck, ignoring him with a fury and arrogance usually achievable only by Ezra, was moving on, so Vin stumbled along. He stayed close once they passed into the scrub that hadn't been cleared for horses and carts, wiping at the tears in his eyes, and only sobered completely when he saw the paw prints. "Damn."

"Yeah." Buck stood preoccupied, scanning the countryside.

"It is Red Stone pack, isn't it?" Vin really didn't need it confirmed; who else would it be, making all that racket and then sneaking in like this?

"Yeah."

"They came back 'cause you hurt your--" Buck's head swung around and the glare rivaled anything Chris had ever leveled. "--because you hurt John," he amended.

"Can't see no other reason they would've," he said, returning his eyes to the land.

"You ain't gonna find 'em this way."

"Yeah."

Vin pulled out his spyglass all the same. It wasn't like they'd send an engraved invitation if they hadn't already, or put up a sign or anything helpful. They could be anywhere: under a bush, lying in a dry creek run, hell, sitting at some farmer's breakfast table. "Well?" he said after a minute of fruitless searching.

"Nothin'."

"Not likely to be, really." He raised the glass once more, knowing he wasn't going to find anything amiss. Buck grunted beside him, and he turned to find the man watering the desert, right in the middle of those prints.

"Oh, put it away," he griped, going back to the spyglass. Buck was worse than a petulant kid, the way he acted sometimes. For that reason alone, Vin should have figured out what he was ages ago.

"Got to go somewhere," Buck pointed out, as if he were being reasonable. The spatter of urine stopped, and Buck carefully tucked himself back into his britches. The buttons looked to be a hell of an effort, given the condition of his arms, but Vin let him fend for himself; he shouldn't have taken it out in the first place.

The pissing thing was just unthinking aggression, pure and simple, and Buck was going to get them all into trouble if he couldn't rise above his nature, at least with this enemy. The same way Buck could predict what they would do, they could predict what he'd do. And if they really had followed Chris' messy trail here, well, they had a couple of ideas about how Chris Larabee handled pressure, too.

Pissing on cold tracks was exactly like worrying about his place in Chris' heart. If Buck stopped and thought about it for two minutes, he'd understand how stupid it was. Chris wasn't running. Even if he did, it would only prove Vin right. And unlike Buck, every single other member of the Seven wouldn't hesitate to saddle up and drag Chris' pert little ass right back here from whatever hole he crawled into. JD had told him, in awed detail, of Buck's dropping Chris like a sack of potatoes when they'd gone to fetch him once, and Vin figured he could manage the same trick if need be.

"So what do you think, Vin?" Buck asked.

Vin tucked his spyglass back into his belt, a funny feeling in his gut that he couldn't identify, and couldn't shake off. "I think we oughtta get breakfast."

"We oughtta go after 'em," Buck pushed. "Least see how far we can track 'em--"

"And do what if we find 'em," he derided, "yell at 'em? You can't even shoot, much less use a knife, and besides, Chris said--wait a minute, what happens if you make the change?"

Buck shook his head. "I'll limp real bad and likely whine a lot."

"Just like now, then," he observed, keeping his voice even. Buck's split second of confusion was a thing to see, and Vin was glad the bigger man was bandaged up or he'd have gotten hit on the bruises JD had put on his arm yesterday morning. He could just tell it from the spark of vengeful humor sparkling in the blue eyes. "Come on, now," he grinned. "As long as they're out there and we're in town, that's good enough for me." He turned back toward town, silently demanding that Buck follow.

It was good enough for Chris, too, much to Buck's evident frustration. Vin just smirked, sharing that secret smile with Josiah and Nathan. Buck went off to harangue JD after breakfast just to get away from Chris, who had steadfastly refused to hear any of Buck's arguments about why the Two-Bloods out there needed hunting down. And Chris, being Chris, watched Buck wander off with an evil and satisfied gleam in his eye.

"You really shouldn't take so much pleasure in harassing him," Josiah muttered, settling his long frame in a cane-bottomed chair as if he planned on being there awhile.

"It's good for him," Chris said, laughing.

"Brother," Josiah said, propping his feet on a porch rail and pulling out a folded magazine, "your sense of humor's gonna turn on you one day."

Chris, still smiling, slid his hands into his pockets and shook his head.

"Y'all don't think there's somethin' to what Buck's sayin'?" Nathan asked thoughtfully.

Chris shrugged. "Even if there is, today or tomorrow won't make no difference, and tomorrow we'll be better rested."

Nathan nodded his assent and adjusted his hat. "Well, y'all, I'm goin' back up to my room, get things cleaned up and aired out now that Buck's back on his feet. I'll be down later on."

Chris dipped his hat brim in acknowledgment before he walked off toward the bathhouse. Vin followed him, walking closer than most would, just like any other Friday after breakfast. Chris realized abruptly that they were about to be naked in the same room together, and that that hadn't happened since, well, before.

"Take it easy, pard," Vin said easily, "your virtue's safe with me."

That put Vin one step--one incredibly small step--ahead of Buck. Other than that, Chris suspected the two had pretty much identical intentions. But Chris steadfastly refused to think on it too much. He and Vin had been naked around each other before, and old Ronald Simms would be in the bath house with a pipe and the paper anyway. So they had bedded the same person more than a couple of times in the past few days, and it looked like they'd bed each other sometime soon. He could damned well take a bath without panicking like JD.

He couldn't, however, watch seem to watch any of these men get naked with no reaction at all, mayb especially Vihn, who he hadn't spent any time with. Not like Ezra and Buck. Chris split his attention between furtive looks at old man Simms, to be sure he was still reading his paper, and sidelong glances at Vin's body as each new bit was revealed. In this, Vin had always been exactly like Buck: comfortable in his skin, relaxed as he laid out his bath soap and scrub brush. He caught Vin sneaking his own looks, and couldn't help but feel self-conscious; he knew of no man but Buck who had ever looked at him that way.

Chris hadn't thought his limited experience would matter, especially after how well things had gone with Buck and Ezra. He had never expected to feel like some shy virgin, and the fact that he did made him angry with himself. The confusion of feelings started cooking together, stewing darkly inside, and Vin hadn't even taken off his pants yet. Chris jerked at the buckle of his gunbelt; he had fallen behind with all his hesitating, barely managing to get his boots off and open his shirt.

Vin, stripped down to his unlaced buckskins, leaned over his tub and dragged his fingers through the water. "Mr. Simms?" he asked politely. Chris heard the paper rustle.

"Yessir?"

"You mind fetching a pail of cool water? I'd do it myself," Vin added apologetically, "but I'm already half nekkid..."

"'S a'right, Mr. Tanner. I'll be right back." He ambled out the back door, and Chris shivered. That had been a ploy if he'd ever seen one. He dropped his eyes to the floor, forcing himself to stand still. He wanted to fidget, to cut and run, to do something...

"You think he wants to, too?" Vin asked, casting a nervous glance toward the door.

"Wants to what?"

"Fuck you."

What the hell was--and then Vin's eyebrows waggled suggestively, and the bright sparkle in his eyes registered, and Chris burst out laughing. "Bastard," he said without heat, and stripped off his gunbelt. "You know," he continued, shouldering out of his shirt, "Buck's a bad influence on you."

"Chris, you just trust me when I say you don't know what the hell you're talking about." The grin was engaging, the eyes heated, and Chris felt a sudden flush course over his skin. Tension broken, it was easy now; he strode right up to Vin, sliding his arms around the man's waist and pulling them tight together. Vin's naked chest pressed against his, the skin so smooth, smoother than Buck's, and over-warm. Vin was that slightest bit shorter than him, the imperative inch that kept him from feeling small like he felt against Buck, that kept him from feeling weirdly delighted when he had to tilt his head back for Buck's kisses. They matched all the way down.

He felt Vin's hands come to rest lightly at his waist. "Ain't no hurry, Chris," Vin said softly, smiling. "I expect lots of things need ta get settled before you and me try that on, anyway, and--"

Chris shut him up the same way he used to shut Buck up, and finally he got to slide his hands into that thick, soft hair.

This kiss was like the last, with the added kindling of body pressing against body; Vin's tongue was fully as lively as Buck's, Vin's body as welcoming. Using just the pads of his fingers, he drew lines up Vin's sides, breaking the kiss and pulling back enough to stroke inwards. The dense muscle of Vin's chest, a product of years of honest labor, was resilient to the pressure of his hands. The light brown nipples stiffened even before his fingers reached them, and when he did skim across the puckered flesh with the lightest brush of fingertips, Vin sucked in a sharp breath.

Vin's eyes were hooded, pupils wide, his mouth damp and parted just slightly. He was obviously, sharply aroused. It was all there in the tension of his body, in the way he held himself so stiffly, but even as Chris watched, Vin shook himself slightly and took a careful step back. "This ain't the time or the place," he said, looking irritated with himself.

Chris slid a hand down, into the open vee of Vin's pants where the stiff hairs low on his belly tickled, and didn't have to reach any further to know what was happening under that worn leather. He'd get hard himself if he didn't back off and get his ass in the bathtub.

"Guess Buck ain't that bad an influence on you," he said, forcing himself to draw away, "'cause he thinks every time's the right time, and everyplace is the right place."

Vin chuckled, voice breathy with lust. "Now why don't that surprise me?"

Their eyes were locked, heated, unblinking, as if each feared missing a second of what passed between them. "No hurry?" he quirked an eyebrow, wry.

Vin looked pained, and agreed with obvious effort, "Like I said."

He wanted to ask why Vin wasn't in a hurry for him when he was plenty willing with everybody else. He wanted to ask what Vin and Buck had done in the woods, and why Vin hadn't approached him before all this. He turned away before he got any more stupid. Quickly shucking the rest of his clothes, he lowered himself into the bath.

"I wasn't kiddin', you know," Vin assured. Chris stared openly as the buckskins slid down, flushing when he saw the blood-heavy manhood exposed. "You and me, after Buck gets--" Boots on the landing made Vin stutter only briefly, and pick up his bath sheet,"--well enough, are gonna have ta help him with his shooting." As Vin turned his back to the door and wrapped the sheet around his waist, waiting for Simms to dump the pail of water, Chris leaned back in the tub and closed his eyes.

"He's gonna need it," Chris continued the tangent. "That dislocation's gonna mess up his draw and his aim something awful. Remember when Ezra did that to himself, way back when? He almost gave up his Richards, his aim on the left was so tricky..." The warm water slowly, luxuriantly sapped the erotic urge from him, and for that Chris was glad. With those bastards out there, and Buck still injured no matter what he'd say if asked, nobody needed to be any more distracted than they already were.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris actually enjoyed the day, and the fact that other than staying strictly in town, his men seemed to be acting pretty normal. Ezra had gone back to bed immediately after breakfast, to absolutely no one's surprise. Nathan and Josiah had gone to the church to continue ripping out some bad wood on the stairs, and Buck, when he learned JD had tried to talk with both Ezra and Chris about sex, had burst out laughing and started ribbing him something awful. Chris was reminded of the time Josiah's old flame had sung and danced her way into town. JD and Buck had given Josiah shit forever, it seemed, and now JD was the torture victim in Buck's sights. More than once he spotted JD running between the boarding house and the jail, and Buck right on his heels, that booming, joyful laughter echoing behind them. He and Vin watched the weeds grow from the comfort of the saloon boardwalk. Every time JD stormed past, Vin looked confused and Chris sniggered. Buck would veer to their table occasionally and park his hip on something, and talk about nothing until he decided JD needed bothering again.

Chris' only tiny twinge happened when Ezra surfaced just before dinner with a smile on his face that made Chris want to lay bets as to where Buck had been for the last hour. But Chris refused to press it. Fresh-bathed with his clothes changed, Ezra strolled just to the edge of the boardwalk, announced that it was a lovely day, belittled the label on Chris' whiskey bottle and strolled right back inside, adjusting pristine white shirt cuffs as he walked. That man had to gamble, just to keep up with his laundry expenses.

It was such a familiar whiling away of a day, in fact, that Chris decided until or unless the Two-Bloods demanded immediate attention, they could do whatever the hell they wanted out there. This pack sensibility, eerily familiar as much of it was, was still too new for his boys, and he suspected everyone needed this quiet, safe reminder of what normal life looked like. Most everyone, he amended; Ezra had never looked happier, Buck was as merry as ever, and Vin had something absorbed and joyful going on, just beneath his smile. Well, Chris wasn't going to stir up trouble.

When, early in the afternoon, Daniel Clifford came into town with a dressed-out side of beef on his buckboard, the optimistic bubble burst. The Cliffords, a black family with a place a couple of miles west of town, had a new addition Nathan had helped catch a couple of weeks back. The baby had come early while the midwife was away, and Nathan had stayed on a few days, to help with the chores and let Mrs. Clifford rest up after a hard labor. Apparently, wolves had taken out most of their hens and killed their new yearling bull early this morning, and Clifford was in town to try and sell the side he'd brought in and make up some of his losses.

Chris knew where they were, now. He had himself a shotgun in the sheriff's office that he would happily put to use. This was going to end. As soon as Clifford was out of earshot, he turned to Vin and asked flatly, "Buck and JD still in the sheriff's office?"

"Far as I know."

"Round up the others and meet us there." Chris stepped off the boardwalk to cross the street even as Vin rose to obey.

CHAPTER 13

Nathan rested his hip on the desk next to Josiah, wrestling with his rising anxiety. He had heard the summary of Dan Clifford's ill fortune, really just the ill fortune of the Seven thrust upon an innocent bystander; the Cliffords couldn't afford the reckless destruction that had been brought upon them. He glanced at Josiah's profile, reading his friend's rising anger. Defensive anger, he knew, protective anger. The kind of vengeance God would rain down on the enemies of His people.

Moments like these, Nathan sure was happy Josiah was on his side.

He just wished everyone else was on his side. From the steeple, both he and Josiah had seen Ezra trip happily down the back stairs of the boarding house, where he kept no room and had no business. Nathan's anger had risen anew, driven by the fear that too few of his friends had the sense God gave a turnip. Josiah however, had refused to discuss it. "Nathan," the preacher had said, "if trouble's gonna come, it don't need an invitation from one of us. Let it be." And when Nathan had tried to argue the matter and the risks, Josiah had added ominously, "Look to your own heart, brother; you may not like what you see."

That hadn't helped his mood any, but the work had settled him, a little. By the third or fourth time he saw Buck chasing JD down the street, he was able to laugh at the tomfoolery. Buck did like to stir up trouble just for entertainment's sake.

If only innocent people hadn't been brought into this mess.

"Ain't no doubt as to what happened at the Clifford place, is there?" Chris asked.

JD felt like his pants were on fire, he was so primed and ready to go after these people. And he'd get to get out from under Buck's thumb. "None!"

"Don't see how it could just be one a' them coincidences," Vin agreed.

Against the wall and behind him, JD heard Buck shift just before he felt the poke at his trouser seam; JD jumped a mile, swinging around and throwing Buck a glare hot enough to make a horseshoe glow. "Get offa me!" he yelled, but Buck just laughed, eyes sparkling with amusement. JD was getting so sick of Buck poking at him, it almost wasn't scary any more. It was just bugging him. Severely.

"Can we focus here, people?" Chris barked. The impatient look he cast their way was hardly deserved.

Buck, still chuckling behind him, started with, "I ain't doin' nothing, Chris--"

"Nothin'?" JD snapped, outraged. He couldn't believe that face could be so familiar and so friendly and tell such lies. "Chris, he's goosing me! I told him to quit it and he just keeps right on doing it!"

"You shoulda seen him the first time, Chris," Buck continued merrily, and all at his expense, "I thought he was gonna jump right out of his boots and leave 'em there on the street!" JD scowled with indignant fury. Oh, of all the low, vile creatures, the lowest and vilest was Buck Wilmington.

"There's a pack out there whose leader first tried to kidnap and then tried to kill you, Buck," Josiah said, "and we know what they think of us and what we done with you. Maybe y'all two better postpone the horseplay for a little bit."

"Yeah!" JD retorted, shoving against Buck's chest and knocking him off balance for emphasis.

Buck sucked in his smile, but his eyes still danced gaily, damn him. "Yeah. All right, Josiah." JD resisted the urge to glower. When Buck got something between his teeth, it didn't matter if the world was crumbling around him, he was going to enjoy it if he could.

"But I didn't do anything," JD defended, deeply and grievously wronged. Across the room, Ezra shifted, the movement catching JD's eye. The look on the gambler's face was sober and watchful, and the fine raised eyebrow asked as well as words if he was all right. Abruptly shy under that look, he ducked his head, and gave Ezra a little half-smile and headshake. He wasn't afraid of Buck. But it felt good, knowing Ez was watching out. "Buck's the one who's screwing around," he added, calming.

"And he's gonna stop, ain't ya, Buck?" Vin said. Caught by the tone, JD watched the friendly threat and something more in Vin's eyes, and turned to witness the way Buck's joy shifted into a smoldering kind of satisfaction. JD flatly refused to believe that Buck could be thinking about sex at a time like this. Not even Buck.

"Sorry JD, Chris," Buck said quietly. JD felt the long arm reaching and surrendered before he was caught, dragged by his neck into a left-handed, big-brotherly hug that hadn't changed in the last few days even though Buck grunted in pain every time he did it. Its constancy was a great source of comfort to him.

"So it's them Two-Bloods," Chris said again. "Can't be anything else. They're trying to draw us out of town."

"And they have succeeded," Ezra put in mildly. "We can hardly remain locked in our rooms while they wreak havoc on the property of our good citizens. We'll be expected to respond in some fashion."

"To a bunch of wolves?" JD asked, skeptical. "Judge Travis pays us to keep the ranchers in line, mostly, and we take care of other troublemakers 'cause, well, 'cause y'all like ta fight so much. But nobody's ever expected us to go hunting wild animals just 'cause they take out some livestock."

Nathan straightened up, looking surprised. "JD's right. We're the only ones know them wolves are somethin' more than they are."

JD felt Buck's knuckles knock gently against his chest, a gesture that, while as often as not it left bruises, was Buck's way of telling him he'd done good. Everyone had taken JD's statement and run with it, and he felt inordinately proud.

"Might look strange for us to go lookin' into this," Vin said tersely. "And I don't want to teach these town folk to go on the warpath every time they see a paw print 'round here." He looked straight at Buck when he said it, and JD swallowed a sudden lump of fear.

"I don't care what it looks like," Chris said, stubborn to a fault and getting as mad as a stirred-up hornets' nest. "And Buck, you'd just better not ever be dumb enough to get caught out there where you ain't supposed to be, you understand me?"

JD felt Buck's chest rise and fall against his ribs, felt the settling in the big body, and frowned; sometimes he thought Buck positively liked being yelled at. "Yeah, Chris, I understand."

Chris stood up with enough force to send his chair scraping across the wood floor. "That's it, we're riding out to the Clifford farm. Let's track these bastards down and get this over with."

"I'll go," JD offered, straightening up and ducking out from under Buck's arm.

"We all go," Chris ordered. "JD, you saddle up Steele for Buck. Nathan, round up canteens and help JD get the horses ready. We'll be right behind you."

Frustrated that he might miss something, but resigning himself since he wasn't the only one being sent off, JD nodded and ran out the door, Nathan a little slower behind him.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin watched Chris watch the door close behind Nathan before rounding on Buck, and hid a frown.

"Buck? How're your injuries mending?" Chris asked.

As regular as the sun coming up, when Chris needed Buck to be well, Chris sent Nathan off and then asked Buck himself, as if Buck would even consider disappointing him with the truth.

"Left one hurts but I c'n use it if I have to. Right arm's fine," Buck asserted, shrugging the right shoulder up and down with barely a flinch of pain. "The bandages are the only things keeping me from moving it around, now."

"All right. Go get somebody to help you onto your horse." With that dismissal, Chris turned to Ezra and the two men started unlocking shotguns from the rack.

"I c'n do it myself," Buck muttered. He rose and started stripping off his shirt with a too-careful hand. "Somebody help me get these damn bandages off."

Josiah was half way across the room before Vin realized the preacher was going to do as Buck asked. He held out a staying hand. "Josiah, don't."

The big man paused, casting him a questioning glance.

"I ain't foolin' around, Vin." Buck had all but the two topmost buttons of his shirt open. "I got to be able to ride."

The idiot. Steele was so schooled to Buck, and so stupidly devoted, the man could guide that horse practically by voice alone. "You know the rules. Nathan's contraptions stay on until he takes 'em off or we can get out of 'em ourselves, whichever comes first."

"I can get out of this," Buck bitched, wriggling a little more. "But if I do, I'll be using the hand he told me not to use. So, help me get these things off, or I will do it myself."

Vin met the blue eyes and read all the stubborn aggression in them, but he wasn't about to argue. Damn Buck, the man needed a keeper or six. Vin figured, if Buck hadn't had Chris to herd all these years, he'd have gotten himself killed through stubbornness alone. "Well, take 'em off then," he baited, "nobody's stopping you. You know best, Buck. Nate don't, everybody else don't, just you, so take 'em off, hell, I don't care."

Buck's face contorted suddenly in some weird combination of amusement and disgust. "I liked you better when you was quieter, you know that?" he complained, settling back against the wall in surrender. It was temporary at best, Vin didn't kid himself for a moment.

"I liked you better when you was naked," he tossed back, grinning when Buck first startled, then chuckled richly. The anger was turned, the good nature restored at least for a time, and that was all anybody could hope for until they handled those Two-Bloods out there. He chuckled at Josiah's caustic look, grabbed up his hat and went out the door. Josiah would get Buck buttoned back up, and Ezra and Chris would bring the guns. He could help JD.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

The Clifford cabin was big for a homestead, with four rooms inside and another added on for Daniel's ma and pa, and a big barn out to the back with other, smaller sheds scattered round. It was set well back on its property, so they trotted past one of several fields where two of the older girls drove a plow, breaking up the ground for spring planting. Several of the younger girls, gloriously healthy and happy, worked in the vegetable garden, while the youngest kids played beside the house. Avanelle Clifford sat on the porch when they rode up, nursing her new baby. As the Seven approached, Nathan saw her pull up the little blanket to cover herself and the baby's head, and right her dress beneath it.

"Mr. Jackson," she said as he stepped up and tipped his hat. She rubbed at eyes that looked swollen with tears, seeming angry with herself for being upset.

"Mrs. Clifford," Nathan said kindly, tipping his hat. She was a good woman, God-fearing and so very good of heart, he hated to see her carry even a bit of unnecessary suffering.

"I'm sorry I ain't prepared for no comp'ny. My Daniel has gone off to town, to sell--"

"We know, Mrs. Clifford," Vin said. "We thought we might come see if we couldn't help y'all by findin' them animals before they did more harm."

"Well that's right neighborly of you, Mr. Tanner," she said, offering a watery smile.

"That what's got you crying, now?" Buck asked, the deep emotion he just couldn't seem to control when a woman was upset written large on his face.

She sniffed. "I reckon so. That little bull, he was new stock, and fine; we hadn't never been able to afford one so good before--listen to me complainin' when I got me a perfect li'l baby an' a healthy fam'ly."

Nathan's heart went out to her; to get their family here and keep their claim, the Cliffords had worked hard for nearly twenty years. He hadn't the money to replace the animal, but maybe he could call on other, better off families, take up a collection of some kind.

"Let me get y'all gentlemen somethin' to drink, y'all must be thirsty," she said, catching herself.

Buck had ground-tied Steele, and jumped up onto the porch as Mrs. Clifford made to rise. "Don't you move," he said gently, crowding her back into her chair before kneeling down and making faces at the baby. Buck cooed at the tiny girl, smiling. "Wish I could hold her. I'll come back out when I ain't so busted up. She sure is purty, Avanelle," he praised, and grinned, showing all his teeth, "just like her mama."

"You hush up now, Buck," Mrs. Clifford shushed him, but she laughed like a girl when she said it, and smiled at her baby with a mother's pride. Nathan had the odd sense that the earth was slipping beneath his feet.

When had Buck got on first name terms with Mrs. Clifford? Buck wouldn't be cuckolding old Daniel, not with this a good marriage? Lord knew, color wouldn't slow Buck down, nor the kids. And what the hell did Buck know about babies? Nathan turned to see if anyone shared his surprise, and noticed that Chris had walked away, putting distance between himself and the porch, and had barely looked at the woman. Oh lord. Chris Larabee had so much violence in him, it was easy to forget he had been a husband and father, once. No doubt Buck had been right there with them when that boy was born.

"Mrs. Clifford," Josiah said, "we'll help ourselves at the well, don't you bother yourself now."

"It's no bother--"

"We're fresh, Avanelle," Buck assured her. "We just wanted you to know we're riding through, seeing if we can't help you and your man."

She smiled fondly, and pointed them towards the place the calf had been killed. Buck gave the baby one last foolish face and Missus Avanelle a fond smile, then ducked under Steele's neck so that the reins draped across his shoulder. With Steele plodding behind him, Buck walked with the others toward the corral behind the barn. Nathan stayed to talk with her a moment to be sure the baby was feeding well, and that the midwife had been by to check that he'd done everything all right. He burned to ask her how she knew Buck--he'd never heard the Cliffords mention him before, and the new knowledge unnerved him. Nathan was tired of learning new things about Buck, and would be plenty happy if the man just didn't reveal anything else for a while.

Josiah waited for him in the shade of the barn, absently scratching his horse's cheek. "Mrs. Clifford all right, Nathan?"

"Yeah." Buck and Vin were out in front, Chris holding their horses while the two knelt and studied the ground. Nathan stared hard at the back of Buck's neck, curiosity and warning gnawing at him.

"Are you all right, my friend?"

"Josiah," he whispered, "did you know anything about Buck knowin' the Cliffords?"

"Buck knows many of the local families, Nathan," he said mildly, his eyes looking so peaceful and friendly, like the eyes of God.

"He don't know no black families," Nathan countered.

Josiah chuckled. "Guess he does."

Nathan wanted to glower, but he knew Josiah wasn't making fun of him. "He better not know 'em too well. Daniel Clifford, I call him a friend of mine, and I won't go lettin' Buck intrude on this family."

"Nathan," Josiah replied thoughtfully, "you can't judge a man for being what he is. You'd best leave it alone."

"But this is a good black family, and I don't want him or no man comin' through here and--"

"Black families worth more to you than white families?" Josiah asked, and the words cut deep.

"It ain't like that, Josiah," he denied hotly.

"It sounds exactly like that."

"This a'way," Buck called, and everyone but Buck and Vin mounted up.

Nathan waited tensely for whatever Josiah might say next, but the big man just settled back into the saddle and pulled his hat over his eyes. Josiah didn't understand. A white man, out here with these black women who already didn't have much of a chance and not many beaus to choose from, Nathan didn't know how that could be good for anybody. Not for anybody but the white man.

They didn't get a hundred yards before Dancer started jumping. JD, far too worked up for this kind of a slow-paced hunt, swore and jerked the reins, pulling the gelding out of line. His turmoil had transferred to the horse, and now both horse and rider were fighting each other. Well good, maybe they would wear each other out. "JD! Get your horse under control or out of the way."

"I'm trying, Nathan!" he retorted. "He's jumpy today, won't settle down."

Nathan watched Ezra turn, and study Dancer long and hard. "Buck," Ezra called quietly, Maverick handling Dancer's prancing with aplomb by haughtily ignoring the agitated horse, "you don't smell anything, do you? There's nothing nearby to make Dancer so unmanageable?"

Buck shook his head, and JD blew out an astonished breath. The boy had no survival skills, none at all. "Dancer knows me too well anyhow," Buck continued, "these others prob'ly wouldn't get him too riled."

"Then perhaps, JD," Ezra said, twisting in the saddle, "you can run him before we reach the wood, and work off a little of that excess energy."

As JD took off, Nathan watched Dancer's tail flying and asked pointedly, "Whose energy, Ezra, the horse's or JD's?"

Ezra turned further, gold tooth flashing in the sunlight. "Does it matter?"

The man had a point.

The going was slow, Buck and Vin putting their heads together more than once, but talking loudly enough for Nathan and the others to hear. JD rejoined them after a bit, Dancer blowing hard, and Ezra turned back to wink at Nathan. Nathan wasn't sure he liked it, wasn't sure he liked any white people winking at any colored people until he had hauled Buck off somewhere and set him to rights about the Clifford women. But even he couldn't claim that reining in Buck's urges was a priority at the moment.

There was constant negotiation over which trail was newer, and how much of the crossed and re-crossed sign was simply run to confuse the trail and put them off the scent. Buck's opinion prevailed whenever the tracks crossed water, while Chris more than once let Vin have his lead on dryer ground. Nathan spent a lot of time under the hard sun waiting.

They must've got three miles in the steady stop-and-start of tracking, before Buck cursed and kneed Steele around.

"This one's a dead end," he snarled.

Vin shook his head. "Don't look like-- wait, you saying they circled around from the other side?"

"Shit," Chris swore, his mood turning darker with every clop of horses' hooves.

"Hell, yes!" Buck snapped. "A mile back, that was where they must've turned." He slid off his horse and tried to jerk his shirt out of his pants. "Nathan!"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"Get this shit off me. I can't move in it."

"You ain't s'posed to move," Nathan pointed out, talking to Buck like he had to talk to all of them at times like this, like they were two year olds. "That's the point."

Buck stalked up to him, eyes blazing, still trying to get out of his shirt. "Just get it off me, Nathan," Buck repeated impatiently.

Vin, ahead of Buck, sighed and shook his head, called out, "This ain't the first time he's tried, Nate. Unless you want one of us to bash him over the head--and I'd be willing to volunteer for the job--I s'pose you might as well do it."

Buck's eyes were so intent on him that he gave up and dismounted. But getting off his horse was a far cry from giving in. "Lemme see that," he muttered, untying a few knots and loosening most of the wrappings from Buck's upper torso. As soon as he did it, Buck flexed every muscle, grimaced in pain, then flexed again. "Hold on now, hold on. Relax your arm." Buck did as he was told, almost docile in his distraction, and Nathan took it by the wrist and elbow, and quickly raised it to shoulder height.

While he had expected the big man's knees to buckle and his body to twist away from the pain, even he was surprised when Buck actually made a noise. He almost felt bad for the man. But not quite, because the stubborn mule would listen to nothing but his own body screaming at him. Gently, he leaned over and began retying knots, tugging wrappings back into place, locking the arm in against Buck's side once more. "Don't even ask me again fo' awhile, you hear me?"

Buck, face white with pain, regained his feet, his attention already somewhere else. "Yeah. All right," he muttered. He strode back through the grouped horses, reached to grasp his pommel and Nathan heard the hiss of pain even four horses back. Damned idiot was gonna rip them stitches out, if he didn't stop forgetting about them.

"Buck!" Vin was on him before Nathan could do anything, laying hard hands alongside Buck's neck and whispering something in his ear, then kneeling to offer a leg up.

Buck's agitation was all wrong, had started only on this last bit of bad tracking, and Nathan was still trying to sort it out when Chris demanded, voice low and hard, "They're playing with us, aren't they Buck?"

"Not for long," Buck said hotly.

The gallop was a relief, a way to get some blood flowing, at least a little, and a few minutes later they reached the last muddied intersection of paw prints beside the shallows of a stream. Buck and Vin dismounted again, Vin to study the ground and Buck to sniff the air several yards from the horses, and after quiet conference, Vin legged Buck back onto Steele.

They repeated the process two more times as the sun marched across the sky, and at each false trail Buck's mood turned darker. Soon he was as nasty and unapproachable as Chris, and conversation among the others petered out entirely. Eventually, Buck and Chris between them made everyone but Vin so uncomfortable that Ezra nudged Maverick between Pony and Dancer, cutting JD away from the lead group and reining in. If things weren't so bad, JD's obvious relief to be hiding behind Ezra would have been comical. JD had barely been able to look at the man all through breakfast.

More time passed, Vin pretty much ignoring Buck's and Chris' hostile mood, and focusing on reading the signs. Ezra watched them all, covertly, noting who was bored and who already believed they had failed, and trying to keep JD occupied without letting him know. When they stopped for a drink and to relieve themselves, Ezra decided that someone had to say it: "We aren't going to find them," he murmured.

Buck swiveled his head around, then Chris, both looking predictably vicious, and finally Vin, who looked almost resigned. Ah. An ally.

"We'll find 'em," Buck snarled.

"No matter how long it takes," Chris added.

"No, we won't," Vin said flatly. "Not this way."

Ezra nodded polite thanks for the support.

"Buck?" Chris snarled, "why can't you smell 'em?"

"I can smell 'em, their scent's all over," he snarled right back. "Different ones on different trails, criss-crossin'--it's like they've done nothing but run through these hills for the last day."

Chris opened his mouth obviously to say something unnecessarily coarse, but he snapped his jaw shut before a sound came out. "Vin?" he grated.

"Trail's too messy, at least this close in," Vin agreed distractedly. "And there ain't no tellin' how many other false leads they've left us. Shit, I can't even say for sure how many a' them bastards are out here."

"God damn it, can you two find 'em, or not?" Chris snarled.

"Not before dark," Vin answered just as calm as if he were taking Sunday tea, "not guaranteed."

Then Chris did that thing that Ezra had always believed was the reason he remained with this more than slightly off-balance man; the hostility drained from his face, and cold logic replaced it, in the blink of an eye. When Chris didn't believe he could afford his anger, he simply dispensed with it. "Vin, you head back with the others and ride a circuit around town. Make sure these bastards haven't lured us out here so they can sneak into town while we're out. Buck 'n me'll push on a little further, see if we can't get lucky and stumble onto something."

"Ain't no reason for us ta split up," Vin started, and Ezra watched Chris pin his ears back without even appearing to be aware of it.

"I just told you the reason," Chris answered harshly. "Get going. We'll be back before dark."

Vin looked beyond Ezra to the others, then back to Chris. "I reckon I oughtta stay with ya then, to keep looking," he said neutrally. "The boys don't need nobody to watch over 'em riding back."

"You're the best rifleman we have, Vin," Buck said, voice even and soft, and Ezra was startled to see that, now that Chris had calmed himself, Buck had, too. "If any of them Two-Bloods spot y'all and try to get one of you, then yeah, they'll need you. 'Sides, you're the best tracker, likely the only one who'd spot sign near town, if it's there."

"I'll stay," Ezra offered. Vin raised startled eyes to him, and Ezra just pasted on a wan smile, resisting the urge to look behind himself and see who had said that. "I'm the second best," he added, answering his own question, "at least until Buck's recovery is complete." Unerringly, he reached back and patted his rifle stock where it hung securely behind the cantle of his saddle.

Vin's eyes bored into him, open and honest and saying all manner of things, and Ezra experienced the heady feeling of being valued. Vin came to some conclusion all on his own, then nodded sharply. "You keep a good eye out, Ez," he instructed. "They're quiet and they're fast."

"You may rest assured that nothing with the power to kill me will find its way close undetected."

Vin's eyes crinkled at the corners, and again that feeling swept Ezra. He was fast learning, with the same kind of dread that came with watching a con fall apart at the worst possible moment, that he would do a great deal to keep feeling it.

"C'mon then," Vin said, looking behind Ezra to round up the others. "Let's go get some grub."

JD argued, of course. Vin threatened to cuff him again, and after both Chris and Buck growled, JD slumped in his saddle and rode off. Ezra was glad to see the back of him; JD's overconfidence put him at greater risk than the others, and Vin would keep a close eye on him.

After the others peeled away things got considerably easier, because no one said a word. Buck watched the ground over Steele's shoulder, and occasionally sniffed at the air. Chris seemed to divide his time between a spot on Buck's back, that made Ezra's neck hairs twitch in sympathy, and potential hiding places for large animals. Ezra kept one eye on each of them and his ears out for any sound untoward. Were there not an unknown number of loup garou out there who wanted to rip out one or more of his favorite throats, it would have been indescribably boring.

Instead it was only marginally boring. He couldn't even shuffle a deck or practice card tricks, because he wanted to keep his hands free. Just in case. He exerted great mental effort trying to contrive a way to turn a profit on those beasts out there without giving Buck away and, alas, came up depressingly short of ideas.

And he watched the sun pace steadily across the sky.

CHAPTER 14

It was still early afternoon when they unsaddled their horses back in town. After finding no sign of foreign trespass by man or beast, Josiah had thought to share a quiet drink with the other three and then retire to the church. So many things had flown through his mind today, from that red-blurred killing rage reflected in Chris' eyes on the hunt, to their helplessness in the face of so many unknowns, to the mystery of Ezra Standish covertly coddling young JD, to the frailty and wonder of life itself.

He was impeded somewhat by folks on the street, people he had made an effort to know but who, now, he'd rather shove out of his way or openly beat on; he desperately needed to commune with God. JD angled off toward his room at the boarding house with a warning from Vin to stay alert, to commune with who knew what.

Mary Travis must've seen their horses, as she stood waiting for them in front of the saloon. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," she greeted, and Josiah drew a deep breath for fortitude.

"Mary," Vin nodded.

"Josiah, I wondered if I might have a word with you?"

"I'll git ya a beer, Josiah," Vin muttered, and eased away. Josiah spared him a narrow stare for evading the woman so neatly.

"Of course, Mrs. Travis. How can I help you today?"

"I was merely concerned for all of you, and of course for the town."

"Concerned?" he asked, giving nothing away.

"Well, you must admit that this past week has been a bit stressful. And Mr. Wilmington is in no shape to ride, yet you all went out today. Is something wrong?"

"No ma'am. I'm sure you saw Buck and JD cuttin' up this morning."

"I see." But she didn't. Mary Travis was too smart by half, and he ruthlessly crushed the devil in him that called her a danger. All of them were going to keep living in this town, and Mary Travis, of all the citizens, had to remain an ally. She shifted nervously. "You see, I spoke at length with Buck's relatives, and--"

"You'd best not mention that to Buck, ma'am," he said, somehow keeping his voice even. "Bad blood."

"Yes, that was my impression. And frankly, I'm relieved that they have passed on through. But, well, I consider it a responsibility of mine, to keep an eye out for trouble here. And you gentlemen are more often than not an excellent barometer. You're all disturbed by something, and I feel I should know what it is."

"It's nothing, Mary."

"Josiah..."

"Truly. Old ghosts are resting heavy on Buck's spirit, and I suppose you're feeling that. If you'll excuse me." He tipped his hat and stepped past her, knowing the batwing doors wouldn't keep her out, and praying that her breeding would.

Vin stood with his back to the bar, elbows resting upon the polished wood, his legs crossed at the ankles, the very picture of self-satisfied indolence. He tipped his head sideways toward a glass, and even that tiny movement looked lazy and slow. Nathan stood much the same, and they looked like elaborate bookends between which manna from heaven stood foaming slightly in a watermarked glass. He stepped in between the two and picked up his beer. "She's an intelligent, reasoning woman," Josiah said quietly.

"Then everybody'd best watch himself, stop all that foolishness," Nathan breathed beside him.

Josiah felt the whipcord tension rising in him, and it was an effort not to snap at Nathan. "You know, my friend," he said instead, "them constant judgments can be wearing on a man."

"Not half as wearing as what's gonna happen if--"

Josiah slapped the bar with his open hand, the report making both Nathan and Vin jerk, and silencing the people closest to them.

"You keep inviting a rain of damnation down upon us, Nathan," he whispered, "it's sure as hell gonna come." Vin's hand rested on his arm, anchoring him without making any demands. "One problem at a time, hey, Josiah?"

He needed to get out of here. Forcing himself to be civil, he answered, "Long as the problems cooperate," emptied his glass, and slipped out the back without another word.

The church was sanctuary; he had opened the doors wide this morning, and it was cool inside, and dim. He tugged off his gun belt and laid it on the chair in the corner, heeled off his boots, and dropped cross-legged to the floor before the altar. Praying for understanding, letting the feelings and images flow--the townspeople strolling through their simple, narrow lives; Buck naked, striding between the church pews; Vin slapping JD on the head; Ezra reaching out to Chris in a way that spoke of newfound courage; Nathan alternately helping and hurting himself and everyone near; himself, picking his way through the sex and the love and the fear--he opened his heart to God.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin hated to see Josiah go, as it meant that, since JD, Buck and Ezra were all absent, and Nathan was smart enough to slink off into a corner and look for somebody who needed mending, he had to talk to everybody. He forgot, until moments like these when townsfolk bellied up to the bar and demanded conversation, that sitting with Chris kept these people well back.

Old man Donaldson's wife, hell on two legs, had locked her husband out of the house again, and after letting all her chickens out and tearing up the garden in a fury, he had wandered into town last night, got drunk, and been found behind the dry goods store passed out mid-morning. None of this would have been worthy of gossip had not Mrs. Donaldson herself ridden in on a buckboard after dinner and lit into the bartenders in both saloons for letting her husband buy so much drink.

Bill Johnson and his brother-in-law had had themselves another in a long line of fistfights, and both were sporting shiners and split lips, and where had any of the Seven been to break that up? Martha Johnson-Wilkerson, whom her brother loved more than life itself, had apparently come into town, crying with vexation, to fetch them both just an hour before. A horse had either wandered off or been stolen in the night, and what exactly was Larabee and his rowdy gang going to do about it?

It almost wasn't worth the whiskey.

Inez saved him a great deal of bother after she sauntered in around four, by the pendulum clock on the wall, not long before the stage was due into town. Sliding behind the bar, she listened to him answer every question thrown his way--yes, Buck was all right; no, Chris, Ezra and Buck weren't to be gone long; the horse had probably wandered off since there was no tack missing so give it til tomorrow to get hungry and come back; yes it was too bad 'bout them wolves and the Clifford bull; no, no one was acting strange--and then started answering the questions for him while she poured for each new customer. Vin dropped his last dollar on the bar, in thanks, and watched the coin disappear behind a wink and a smile.

He and Nathan moved up to Ezra's table and played a half-hearted game of gin rummy, watching the door as four new strangers made their way in over the course of an hour. Dandied up and dusty, they looked so out of place that they had to be the stage passengers; the desert would have chewed them up and spit out their bones, if they'd tried to travel alone. They looked tired and dry and they did nothing to set Vin's neck-hairs tingling, so he dismissed them. He steadfastly refused to worry about his own until the chandeliers were lowered for late afternoon lighting.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Ezra was getting worried. Something had changed, not long back, but neither one of the bastards ahead of him would deign to say what.

"Gentlemen," Ezra said for the third time, and for the third time, both Buck and Chris ignored him. They should have turned back an hour ago, and the lengthening shadows did nothing for his stunted sense of responsibility or his peace of mind.

Steele plodded to a halt on his own and pricked up his ears. Ezra pricked up his own ears, knowing full well that that horse was more likely to notice a loup garou nearby than he was. Buck removed his hat, casually, and strung it by its lanyard over his saddle horn, and equally casually, began to unbutton his shirt.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Chris asked, and the voice was so forceful, so quiet, Ezra felt his heart begin to race.

"They're out there, can't you feel 'em?"

And Chris, his spine straightening as he sat up in the saddle, muttered laconically, "Yeah."

Ezra eased a hand back and slid his rifle silently from its sheath.

"You keep your damned clothes on, and you keep your mount."

"I ought ta be able to move a little easier in my other form, Chris--"

"Not if I get ahold of you, you won't," Chris threatened. "I ain't kidding, Vin already told me you'd still be injured if you turned into a wolf--"

Ezra, panicking, tried to place how near they might be to the closest farm house, the closest fishing hole, the closest human ears--

"--and Steele ain't as dumb as you. Stay where you are."

"But what if I--" the thicket parted in front of them and a wolf leapt out, and only then did Ezra realize they had been traveling with the evening breeze for the last half-hour. He kicked a leg over Maverick's withers and jumped to the ground, taking aim under the horse's neck and letting loose a round right between Steele and Pony. Maverick, predictably throwing his head up at the sound, couldn't spoil his aim.

"Damn it!" Buck snarled, lunging his horse straight toward the animal coming their way. He shouted at the top of his lungs, "What the hell do you think you're doing here?!"

Ezra let off another round, and watched with sickly satisfaction when red blood spattered out from a shoulder and the animal rolled, end over end. He was back in the saddle faster than he'd known he could be, racing full pelt toward Chris and Buck, who had skidded to a stop beside the injured wolf and slid off their horses.

"It's a trap," Ezra snapped, his survival instincts blaring at him like a steam whistle, jarring his nerves, his bones. "Move!" Chris looked up at him and then looked around, while Buck dug his fingers deep into the animal's fur, twisting its face up towards him.

"You bitch, you tell Jane or whoever's running you that we won, you lost, and I'll kill you all if you ever--"

"Buck!" Ezra was afraid to dismount again, afraid to give up his height advantage, though Maverick's aversion to gunfire would surely destroy his aim. "Chris, get him in the saddle!" He could feel the wood closing in, the bushes swishing with imagined movement, and electricity coursed through his veins. It was a trap, a trap, he knew it and he wouldn't leave Buck just because the man was too stupid to run from danger and if something happened to either one of them, Vin and JD would kill him themselves.

Chris, amazingly, responded to the order, grabbing Buck around the ribs and dragging him back from the injured animal. "Get your ass moving," he growled to Buck, who seemed to be fighting him.

More movement, from afore and left, and Ezra fired again, missed, the big wolf defying all animal logic and zig zagging, making itself a poorer target. "Seven of them unaccounted for, gentlemen," he said, hearing in his voice that icy calm that always arose when death or big money was on the line. "We don't have the luxury of discussion."

Chris cracked Buck one in the jaw and shoved him at Steele, who jerked and then leaned into the weight against his side. Buck took a stirrup and Chris shouldered his ass up. As soon as Buck's swinging leg cleared the cantle, Chris ducked in front of Steele, who danced back on his hind legs and almost dropped Buck before the big man could settle in.

Another shot, another miss as the animal ran toward them with stunning speed, seeming easily as fast as a horse and rider, straightening out its line. "Gentlemen..." Something moved at the edge of his vision, a third coming from afore and right, and Chris, mounting up, was directly in his line of fire. He didn't know if they had answered, could not have heard them over the rush of blood in his ears, the ring of the rifle shots. He kicked out of his stirrups and pressed his boots against Maverick's shoulders, trying to keep him steady, and keep his own seat. He couldn't offer the horse his heels, the spur, until Chris had turned and cleared his way for at least one shot at the third rushing wolf, knowing now that without aversion, it simply would not stop.

"We got to bring her back with us," Buck urged, and Ezra wondered briefly if Buck had lost his mind.

"Move!" Chris shouted, and he turned to see Chris lean out of his saddle and grab up Steele's nearer rein, jerking the horse around. Then they were out of the way, and Ezra loosed one more shot in each animal's direction. The one to his right stopped almost immediately, and Ezra hoped he had hit it. The one to his left was so very close that Ezra didn't bother with stirrups. He just leaned heavily and dug his heels in, his panicked mount trying to pivot before his powerful hind legs dug in to launch them forward.

It was at moments like these that Ezra was glad of the riding lessons Maude had whipped him into throughout his early years. Without his skill, his horse would have left him on the ground.

He watched with a sort of dismayed horror as Buck tried to clear his pistol from its holster with his left hand, only to drop it on the ground. Chris was pulling too far ahead to be of much use; you couldn't fire a rifle at a gallop, couldn't fire one from most horses at all. Ezra looked over his shoulder once, heart leaping to his throat when he saw how close the second wolf had gotten to him, and felt suddenly like a sheep trying to avoid a mountain lion. For they had been sheep. As sure as he knew his own name, he knew they had been herded here, and that he had vastly underestimated the intelligence of their enemy.

He imagined he saw Buck's mouth moving, but no sound passed the barrier of wind and his own heart pounding in his ears. Possibly six more of them could be lying in wait anywhere between here and town, and Buck had dropped his gun. Ezra found the logic in terror, reminding himself that the man couldn't aim or shoot the damned thing anyway. He made a note to remind Buck of that fact in no uncertain terms, just as soon as they survived. Bending low over Maverick's withers, resting his knuckles on each of the shifting shoulders, he didn't look back until they had reached a road.

Minutes later, Chris couldn't say why he knew, but the chase had dropped off. Breathing hard, he slowed Pony from a full gallop to a canter as he approached the wide dirt road that led past the Clifford and Macy farms and on out to Ira Steinberg's sprawling ranch, finding himself much further from town than he had realized. It would be dusk, or nearly so, by the time they got back, and they still hadn't accounted for who knew how many other Two-Bloods.

Pony wanted to stop but his sides were heaving, so Chris kept him moving at a plodding trot to let him cool down. The road was blissfully smooth, and the Cliffords and other farmers out this way had Ira to thank for it. Well past the last homesteads, Ira Steinberg's spread was a little town unto itself, and the wiry rancher actually kept the peace with his farming neighbors. This road was well-maintained, an ox team dragging steel grading blades over it and other routes to the big ranch twice a year, after the heavy rains. Buck caught up almost immediately while Ezra, maybe thirty yards behind, dropped his horse to a canter and then a trot, closing the gap more slowly. The only thing Chris could hear over the horses' breathing was Buck's, and he could guess from the scowl on his friend's face what kind of pain he was in. Not that Buck would acknowledge it; his eyes were almost wild, and fury flowed off him like sweat.

When Ezra caught up, he said snidely, "Thank you so much for your assistance in our defense back there."

Chris whipped his head around to glare. "You think idiot here would have kept moving forward, if I hadn't been in front of him?" he snapped, jerking his thumb toward Buck. Ezra looked first surprised, eyes darting once to Buck then back, then resigned.

"Buck," Chris continued, "if I ever tell you to mount up again and you don't, I swear to God in heaven I'll find a way to make you regret it. You understand me?"

Buck stiffened, but amazingly, seemed to appreciate the order. "Hittin' me wasn't punishment enough?" he grinned, wild.

"I'm surprised you even noticed," Chris muttered, meaning it. "Where are they, can you tell?"

"Hell, I don't know. They've dropped off, nothing downwind of us, at least. We should have grabbed up that girl Ezra shot."

"Next time," Ezra replied dryly, "I'll simply ask the others running us down to give me a moment."

Chris couldn't find any humor inside himself. "There ain't gonna be a next time. Tomorrow, we go hunting."

CHAPTER 15

Dusk found them trotting down Four Corners' wide main street, where Vin, JD and Nathan waited on a porch near the livery. They had a bottle and three glasses on the table between them, and Chris walked up without hesitation and poured, watching even Ezra pick up a used glass and toss the drink down.

"What happened?" Vin asked them, too damned observant to miss the stink of sweat, if nothing else.

"Not enough," Chris replied. He was tired, not fight-tired, but of waiting, of worrying. This was why he had worked so hard to keep people at bay; dealing with feelings was far more exhausting than the most vicious of battles, the most breakneck of chases. He had fooled himself into thinking he had succeeded, that his caring was only distant and uninvolved, until Buck had opened everything up and forced him to see the truth in himself, in them all.

"They tried ta come at us," Buck added quietly, obviously sensitive to the few townsfolk on the street. "Ez shot one, but we had to leave her out there."

"And Buck has divested himself of his sidearm," Ezra said. Buck leveled a glare on their gambler that should have struck him dead in his tracks, but Ezra didn't even flinch. Chris hadn't noticed--when had Buck been shooting?

"He lost his gun?" JD piped in, grinning far too joyfully at the news.

"Yes," Ezra drawled, staring directly into Buck's withering glare with neither a blink nor a pause. "He tried to draw with his left hand. While mounted. At a gallop. Frankly, I have no idea what he planned to do had he retained his hold on it."

JD was snickering openly now. "Ya dropped your gun off the backof your horse, Buck?" he positively cackled, and Chris saw many pointed--and much-deserved--jokes at Buck's expense over the next few days.

"Your left--" Nathan's voice cut off quick, and the only one of them bigger than Buck squared off in front of the man. "Let's go."

"It's fine--"

"I wasn't askin' you no question, Buck. Upstairs, right now. I'm gonna look at them stitches and see what damage you done to 'em."

Chris watched the banked hostility in Buck start to rise, surprised; Buck didn't often argue with Nathan, but tended to joke his way out of medical treatments. Illumination struck. This was another of those pack things, all Buck's posturing, jockeying for position worse than horses on a racetrack. Before Buck could open his mouth Chris ordered, "Shut up and go with him, Buck." This is your alpha speaking, he thought to himself. This is nuts.

Looking ridiculously put out, Buck turned betrayed-looking eyes on him. Chris would have laughed at that hangdog look, any other day.

"You play your cards right," Chris cajoled, "maybe Nathan'll let you out of your bandages long enough to have yourself a bath."

Buck's eyebrows climbed and he perked up considerably. "Nate? I want me a bath, can I have one with this arm like it is?" Already, he was following Nathan toward the stairs.

Chris smirked, shaking his head. It was like herding cats, keeping Buck moving in the direction he wanted him to go. You just had to know when to throw the mice out in front of him.

"A bath sounds right nice," Vin added, smiling. Chris refused to remind Vin or anyone else that he'd already bathed today.

"A bath, gentlemen, is an utter necessity."

Chris looked askance at Ezra; how the hell many times did the man wash in a day?

"I could take a bath," JD offered, like he wouldn't have thought of it without prompting.

Chris just shook his head. "Let's go." JD took Steele's reins and together, the four of them made short work of grooming the horses.

"Best look out for Mary Travis," Vin warned. "She smells blood."

"She smells newsprint," Chris corrected. The woman could sniff out a story like Josiah could sniff out good whiskey.

"Well whatever she smells, she's stuck her head in the saloon twice, lookin' for ya."

"I'll deal with her later." Quiet chuckles told him the words hadn't come out the way he'd meant them, but he let it go. They were used to his moods, he knew. "JD, you wanna flake off some a' that hay for Pony while you're back there? And then go over and see if you c'n get Mrs. Mayer to open up for us. Tell her we want four tubs, and that we'll lock up when we're done." She couldn't have locked up too long ago, and for four tubs, she ought to jump at the money.

"Sure, Chris."

"I'll catch up with y'all in a little bit." There was a bottle of brandy in his room that would go slower than the whiskey. Ez would appreciate it more too, and nobody would get drunk.

It was awhile before the baths were ready. Vin, it turned out, wasn't going to oust anyone else, but had checked in on Josiah then come back just to spend time. They sat together in straight-backed chairs, making innocuous conversation while Mrs. Mayer piped the hot water in. Nathan ushered Buck back down, arm in the sling but unwrapped, his shirt hanging loosely over his shoulders. JD showed up next, chattering on but saying nothing, and getting on Chris' nerves. Ezra appeared with uncanny timing, in shirtsleeves and suspenders and carrying a fresh change of clothes, just as Mrs. Mayer was leaving. Ezra looked as sleek and relaxed as he ever had, and Chris flashed back to last night, when the man had sat so comfortably naked before a mirror to shave. Ezra was a surprise in so many ways. Everybody else--with the obvious exception of Buck being able to change into a wolf--he thought maybe they were behaving predictably.

It was only as Buck tried to heel off his boots and Vin's last words faded into distracted silence that Chris truly acknowledged the dangers here. "Help me, Nathan," Buck said, more jovial than usual at the prospect of sinking into warm water. Chris was reminded of a lake somewhere in Oklahoma Territory, years ago: Buck had played and splashed like a kid, then stalked out all sleek and wet, hair and lashes holding water and shining like diamonds in the sun. Naked and erect and in his glory, Buck had looked so lush, so virile and strong, and had tumbled him to the grassy earth...

No sense fighting it. "I'll help him, Nathan. You take care of yourself." He said it quietly, and suppressed his irritation at the quick, suspicious look the black man offered him. Chris wasn't Vin, damn it; he wasn't going to crawl into the tub with Buck.

"All right." Nathan walked over to his own tub, and Chris was focused enough on ignoring Buck's subtle movements while he tugged off boots, peeled down socks and opened trouser buttons, that Ezra's voice startled him.

"JD, it's all right." Ezra, shirtless, took the few steps to close the distance between JD and himself, and laid a hand to the boy's shoulder. "Truly it is." Nathan was naked now, but held his trousers in front of himself like a shield. JD had barely gotten his boots off.

"JD?" Buck called, tentative.

"I could go outside fer a bit," Vin offered, sounding guilty.

Had Vin been staring at JD? Teasing him somehow? JD looked pale with fright. "Ain't nobody going nowhere," Chris ordered. Some things, these boys were just going to have to accept. "JD, c'mon now, nobody's gonna jump you and you know that."

"He's right, JD," Vin echoed from across the room.

"I know, I just..."

"You ain't got anything we haven't all seen before," he derided, trying to make light and ease the boy's mind. "Just relax and get your ass in the tub."

"I know. It's just that..." He looked beseechingly up at Ezra, who touched his cheek and moved away. JD stood forlornly, like a puppy left on the back porch.

If JD weren't so scared, this would be funny. Chris glanced up at Buck, who already thought it was funny and was biting his lip to suppress his mirth. Chris seriously considered whipping the man's ass up and down the street for him. "JD!" he said more firmly. "Any fucking that gets done, any anything that gets done, it'll be because the people doing it want it. Have any of us even tried to kiss you?"

"No..."

"And nobody's gonna, unless you decide you need kissing. So stop panicking and take your bath. There's more important things to worry about. You can't afford to be distracted like this. You understand me?"

JD's skittish brown eyes caught his and held, and Chris promised with his own eyes what he was sure JD already knew: he was safe here, and none of the Seven was going to take advantage of him. JD took a breath and a tinge of pink darkened his cheeks. He grinned and relaxed a fraction. "Yeah Chris, I understand. Sorry, I know y'all ain't gonna do nothing I don't want."

Chris held his breath; if Nathan so much as opened his mouth, there'd be a fight tonight. But Nathan just folded his trousers and stepped into the tub. JD started to unbutton his shirt, finally, and Ezra returned to his own tub, straightening toiletries until JD was in the water and facing away from them. Chris was a little relieved that Nathan and JD were in the front two tubs, Ezra and Buck in the back two. Lord knew, Buck would be half-hard when these trousers came down, just because Chris was on his knees in front of him. Nathan and JD would have been bothered by it.

Chris looked up to Buck, who was still smirking, then over to Vin, who also looked more entertained than worried, but Chris had the distinct impression that now their amusement was at his expense. If those damned Two-Bloods weren't out there, he'd go out to his cabin right now, just to get away from them both.

"C'mon, Chris, get these pants off me," Buck wheedled, wriggling his hips. Chris scowled up at him, but tugged the pants down, glaring at the blood-heavy cock before his eyes. Buck ignored him and stepped into his tub, the fullest and the warmest, with a sigh of such pleasure that Chris felt his nerves tingle.

"Don't let them stitches get wet," Nathan warned, and Buck mmm-hmm'd, eyes closed in bliss.

"He ain't gonna be able to wash himself," Vin observed quietly, one raised eyebrow offering to help.

Chris pursed his lips and shook his head; Buck was his to care for first and foremost. Besides, Vin would get carried away. Buck got that hopeful, not-quite believing look on his face that had shown itself far too many times these last few days, and Chris bit back a frustrated sigh. The man was a damned fool. Their damned fool to be sure, but still.

Maybe Chris was the fool.

He had stripped to the waist to keep his clothes dry, and knelt by the tub to more easily scrub Buck down. Buck stayed quiet, but his breath hitched when Chris rubbed the cloth over his chest, just catching a nipple. Chris tried to be practical, turning and pulling Buck's foot out of the water perfunctorily, scrubbing hard at the skin of calf, shin and thigh. But he couldn't escape the shape, the familiarity, the impact of Buck's body on him, as if he'd been asleep for years and only just awakened. He couldn't escape the knowledge that Buck was already hard between the legs, or that he wanted to satisfy that silent demand. Scent, he tried to convince himself, he's putting off scent. Get him clean enough and you'll settle down.

Such as may be, but when he looked down and saw the hard, flushed shaft poking just its head out of the water, he didn't care so much why this was happening. He just let the back of his hand nudge it near its base, felt Buck's balls float gently against the heel of his palm. After only a second's hesitation, Chris wrapped the soapy cloth around Buck's cock and squeezed. Buck barely twitched, but his lips parted and his eyes locked to Chris', heavy-lidded and hot with lust. Even with Ezra in the tub beside them and Vin sitting in a chair staring--maybe because of Ezra and Vin, washing Buck like this was deeply arousing. They were silent witnesses to this rite, and Chris was as hard as he'd ever been, his cock painfully restricted by his pants.

Across the room, Vin's chair squeaked. Ezra raised his hands out of his tub and gripped its edges, the knuckles going white. Chris understood the need to remove as much temptation as possible because he really did want to strip on down and climb right into the tub with Buck, would have done it if Nathan and JD weren't in here. Happy, smiling broadly, he stripped the cloth up and down over the soap-slicked shaft, setting a harsh rhythm. Buck's thigh muscles tensed, locked tight and hard beneath his forearm, and while he watched, Buck's jaw dropped open. He was on the verge of swooping in to drive his tongue into that open mouth, when water splashed somewhere behind him.

"Got awful quiet in here," JD said nervously.

It had got awfully hot in here, too.

"JD," Ezra said, his voice infused with a hint of laughter, "don't turn around. You'll only get upset."

"But I--"

Ezra actually chuckled. "Dear boy, I can assure you that no one is being compelled to do anything against their wishes back here."

Buck huffed a breathy laugh at that, and his hips thrust up instinctively into Chris' stroking hand.

Chris choked on the sharp edge of a groan.

Water splashed. Chris knew Nathan was looking because Buck's face changed, and Buck looked away. There was no missing Chris' arm in the tub, nor where his hand was. But Nathan's eyes on them, it did something, and he stroked again just to make Buck look back at him.

"Y'all gotta stop that, you hear me?" Nathan all but yelled. "All of y'all, I'm just about sick of it, now--"

Vin was up out of the chair and gliding down to one knee beside Nathan's tub before Buck could do more than sit upright and snarl. "Stay out of it, Buck," Chris warned, low, and opened his mouth to take care of this once and for all.

But Vin already had Nathan's attention. Chris watched--he figured they all watched--Vin reach out a hand to touch Nathan's cheek. Nathan flinched away but Vin just kept reaching, the backs of his fingers stroking down the dark jaw and then curling around the black man's shoulder. "You're hurtin' em, Nathan," Vin said easily. "You're hurting Buck worst, but you're hurtin' Ez and Chris too, and you're scaring JD." Where had Vin learned that habit of treating them all like animals that needed to be soothed and settled and petted? Chris couldn't deny that it was working.

"It ain't safe, Vin," Nathan said stubbornly, but slowly. "And it ain't gonna be safe just 'cause y'all say it is!"

"But right now, it's safe. Right now it's just us. And we're protecting each other and the doors are locked and nobody can see in. So Nate, just relax and have your bath. All right?"

"Just go set yo'self back down," Nathan muttered, gruff but subdued. Chris raised his eyebrows to Ezra, who was still watching the back of JD's head.

"JD?" Chris called. "You okay or ain't ya?"

"I'm okay," JD said, diffident.

"They're just jerking off, JD," Vin offered casually. "You tellin' me you ain't never jerked off in the bathtub before?"

JD's shock showed in the squeal of his voice. "Vin! I ain't talking about nothin' like that!"

Chris figured they probably oughtn't to be doing anything like that either, at least for now. Nathan's surrender was a reluctant one, and Chris knew with a queasy unease that he wouldn't look back on his actions with much pride. It was hard to remember that, holding what he still held.

Pursing his lips and shaking his head minutely, the closest he could get to an apology, Chris muttered, "Come on, fellas, hurry up and get washed. I want dinner." Buck's manhood was still rigid, still hot, the skin tight with a readiness that called out to Chris, but when Chris forced himself to let it go and just efficiently clean Buck, Buck didn't complain. Chris, fighting a losing battle with his own desire, almost wished he would.

Conversation started up again, focused entirely on the plan to visit local farms tomorrow and seek evidence of where the Two-Bloods might be hiding. Nathan finished bathing first, helped Chris dry Buck off and wrapped his arm again, good and tight. It was full dark when they left the bathhouse, and Chris was grateful for the cool evening breeze.

"Somebody ought to get over with Josiah, or bring him out," Chris began.

"Want me to go get him?" JD offered. "I already ate."

Chris made a decision. "Nobody goes anywhere alone after dark, not to bed, not to the outhouse. They came into town once, they c'n do it again, and now that they've actually seen how bad off Buck is--"

"--And now that they have his gun," JD chortled.

"--they might decide he's vulnerable enough for them to come right down the main street. Lock doors and windows. JD, Nathan, go round up Josiah or stay with him, 'til y'all go to bed. Vin, stick with us 'til dinner and then get Buck up to his room safe."

"All right." Vin's reply was completely innocuous, but Chris felt a sudden pang of jealousy. He'd just ordered the two wildest, the two most desired, into a room together. Last night, he'd done it to keep them away from him. Tonight he didn't want them away; he wanted Vin sitting in a straight-backed chair, watching while he bent over Buck and-- he shook his head, disgusted with himself. Obviously, he hadn't washed Buck well enough.

Gritting his teeth to try and fend off his anger, he ordered, "Meet up at the sheriff's office at dawn." He emphatically was not going to give JD a chance to ask him personal questions in public in the morning.

JD trotted off to the church, Nathan ambling more slowly behind him, and Chris watched them both until they reached the door. The rest of them headed for the saloon and the plates Vin had asked Inez to set aside.

Chris wasn't surprised when Buck inhaled the meal Vin fed him and announced he was ready for bed. The only thing that would have surprised him, in fact, was if Vin hadn't smiled and agreed so quickly.

"Sleep tight, y'all," Vin said, the twinkle in his eye barely checked. Buck laughed that big laugh of his, while Ezra smirked and shook his head, exchanging a look with Chris that said, "my, aren't they ridiculous-looking?" There was something more in Ezra's eyes, something that made him nervous. He was hardly being fair, considering that Ez had the dubious honor of being his second man. But he wasn't ready for Ezra alone. He couldn't imagine Ezra's sophistication putting him as at ease as Buck's earthy, casual humor had.

He could say no.

He should have swapped rooms with Vin and hidden behind Buck. Hell, who knew how many animals were out there after them, and he sat here and worried about his virtue like a schoolgirl, which sure as shit wouldn't have been safe in Buck's bed anyway. He was worrying over nothing. Ezra would probably drop off to sleep the second his head hit the pillow, and Chris would probably stare at the shadows on the ceiling all night.

CHAPTER 16

Strolling down the boardwalk, it was all Vin could do not to herd Buck into a run. "You that tired, Vin?" Buck asked innocently, the fourth time Vin poked him in the ribs. Vin was absolutely certain that Buck was slowing down just to be difficult.

"Yeah, that's it." He grinned, unabashed. "I'm exhausted, so move your lazy butt."

When they walked into the boarding house, they found Mrs. O'Shea in the parlor doing needle work by lamplight. "Evening, Clara," Buck said, in that honey-smooth voice he had once reserved almost exclusively for the ladies.

"Buck." She gave him a pretty smile and a nod that made her curls bounce, then cast a much cooler glance Vin's way. "Mr. Tanner." Mrs. O'Shea never had forgiven him for breaking into her room two years ago and running Buck out. Vin couldn't say he blamed her.

"Vin's gonna be bunking with me tonight," Buck said quietly, almost apologetically. He acted so much the gentleman that Vin suspected plenty more was really going on.

"You're not expecting any trouble are you?"

"Nope," Buck assured her, supremely confident, even managing to sound a little put out. "Chris is just being unreasonable, he'll prob'ly want us to double up for awhile."

"Well. As long as you're sure. Breakfast in the mornin'?"

"No Clara, thank you. We'll be out 'fore sunup. 'Night."

Vin grabbed a taper from a cup and lit it off the lamp. He goosed Buck on the top stair, chuckling at the mock-outraged grin Buck cast over his shoulder. "You paying a little extra rent, here?" he whispered.

"Mrs. O'Shea? She's a respectable, decent married woman," Buck defended. He did not, Vin noticed, answer the question.

Pushing through Buck's door and locking it behind them, Vin moved to light the lamps off the candle. "I didn't say she wasn't." But her husband was still locked up and Vin didn't believe for a second that Buck hadn't been with her again. "So you paying a little extra rent here?"

Buck tried and failed to look indignant, then grinned, almost bashful. "I like her. She's real kind."

If Buck thought so, Vin figured he could be a little nicer to her. He let it go for now, though; he had other things on his mind. Staring at Buck's bed, he felt an easy burn kindle in his belly.

"What's the matter, Vin?" Buck asked, his voice knowing and full of promise.

Vin looked up, just staring at the ruggedly handsome face: the mustache that twitched in amusement, the indigo blue of his eyes, the sparkle and speculation building within them. "I thought I was gonna come when Chris started playin' with you tonight," he admitted.

"I thought I was too," Buck joked. Then he sobered, added softly, "He surprised me."

"He surprised himself. Good surprise."

"You think?" It was a patently doubtful question, and Vin frowned up at him. "Didn't mean for it to sound like that," Buck said, and ducked his head a little, unconsciously trying to make himself look smaller. "I just meant, I think Nate bothered him some."

"Nate's bothering all of us some," Vin pointed out. "It's still real new. Give it a chance, Nathan prob'ly won't act like that next time something good happens."

"I wasn't complaining."

Vin had been ready to, when Chris had stopped. The view from the chair had been tantalizing, and all the more exciting for what he couldn't see. The rim of the tub had hidden almost everything, so he'd been left with the looks on their faces, the tiny movements of muscles in Chris' upper arm that signaled when he committed himself, when he grasped, when he stroked. The pleasure that had suffused their faces, the way they had looked at each other, had tightened Vin's chest and made it hard to breathe.

"How come you didn't bunk with Chris tonight?" Vin asked suddenly.

Buck chuckled. "He didn't ask me to."

And Chris hadn't. Strategy had replaced carnal interest almost as soon as everyone was dressed, and Vin decided not to worry it. If he got Buck thinking about it too closely, Buck might get anxious again, and Vin truly hated seeing that look on this man's face. "Well, I'm glad he forgot," he breathed. Buck didn't agree, but he did smile his welcome and chuckled when Vin reached to help him undress.

Perversely, now that they were here, he was in no hurry. He left Buck's trousers on, unbuttoned. He pulled off his own boots, hung his hat and jacket on the coat hook, and unbuttoned his suspenders, laying them on a corner of the little dressing table. It didn't seem they needed to talk to just ease into it. Curled up on Buck's big bed, Vin entertained himself trying to smell the people who had been here before. While he imagined Buck's private guests had included half the eligible ladies within forty miles (and a fair number of the ineligible ones), the only scent he could truly define was Ezra Standish's cologne. "Was Ez here today?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah. He come up to get his ace of spades back from me."

"Uh huh. You musta hid it in the bed then, 'cause he got his cologne all over the sheets." Have to tell Ez to ease back on that stuff; people might start noticing it on the others.

Buck chuckled. "That ain't the only place he got it." He added after a moment, "I hate that I can't use my hands."

"You'll be groping everybody soon enough, don't you worry." Vin let his fingertips stroke across Buck's bare chest, felt the desire building in him. He listened to the quiet: Buck's slow, steady breaths, the distant, muffled noises of people and animals outside, and the nearer, occasional tread of shoes on bare boards in the hall or on the stairs. It amazed him, how comfortable he was just lying here indoors. While he had slowly grown into the idea of living in a town and spending most of his time in the company of people, he had always, like Chris, kept a piece of himself apart. He had always hungered for the noises of nature, and taken himself off often, to be alone.

Now, that hunger for the wild was somehow satisfied here in Buck's arms, and he suspected it would be just as sated at a gaming table with Ezra, or sitting on a porch with Josiah. Both JD and Nathan still bothered him a bit, but he knew it was their own fears that grated. When they settled down, he fully expected to be as content near either of them. And Chris... Vin really had been reaching for his fly when JD had gotten nervous and spoiled the moment. Chris couldn't have known how flushed his face was nor how evilly seductive his smile. Chris must've known the effect he was having on Buck, because the tension flowing between them was devastating to watch. Vin felt his shaft thickening faster, just at the recollection.

"Hmm?" Buck hummed in vague inquiry.

For an answer, he leaned up on an elbow and slid his hand over Buck's pants, straight past the half-hard cock and down behind his balls. Buck's legs opened for him and he moved on down, pushed his fingers gently at the crack of Buck's butt. He pressed at the hidden opening, making his message clear. "You ever do this to Chris?" A tremor swept Buck's long body, and a grin that displayed every tooth in the man's head spread across his face. "Looks like a yes to me," Vin breathed. Picturing Chris beside Buck's tub again, he asked, "What was it like?"

"You know," Buck said, his voice carefully cool, "you could prob'ly get Chris to swap rooms with me tonight."

"Buck?" Vin waited until Buck met his eyes. "Don't mess this up 'tween you 'n me, all right? Chris'd swap rooms with me easier, ta spend tonight with you. I expect he's kickin' himself for not doing it when we left the bathhouse." Their stupid ignorance of each other was bothersome, but weirdly endearing.

"You don't know him like I do," Buck muttered.

"I ain't gonna argue with you 'about it," he answered placidly, pressing again at that sweet spot where he had buried tongue, fingers, cock. "I'm plenty happy where I am, and if you ain't, then you go fetch him fer yerself. And if you don't want to talk about him we don't got to. I just..." he licked his lips, then he licked Buck's. "Y'all looked so good together. Made me real excited."

The shadows left Buck's eyes, and the muscles of the neat ass clenched on his fingers. "I like talking 'bout Chris," Buck said honestly, settling down. "Makes me excited, too." Then he grinned. "But if you tell him I told you this, he'll prob'ly kill me."

"Then I won't tell him."

Buck's eyes closed and his body undulated like ripples on a pond. "First time we ever did that," Buck whispered, his voice measured and slow, "I didn't even know what he was up to." Vin sucked in a breath when Buck's thighs closed on his wrist, and a strong thrust of hips rubbed Buck's cock against his forearm. "He'd tied me up to the bed, said I had hands like one of them octopuses, and that he wanted to do what he'd do without me interfering."

Vin could picture that, could see how Chris Larabee might have wanted that kind of control, perhaps especially with the man Buck would have been back then. He was randy and wooly enough even now. And Vin could guess the trust Buck must've had, given his past and what he was, to let someone, anyone bind him. "Go on."

The flat tongue slipped out, making Buck's lip shine below the moustache, and Vin barely stopped himself from leaning in for a taste. He couldn't kiss the man and keep him talking at the same time.

"Ain't much to tell," Buck said, eyes still closed tight. The way his body moved, there was plenty it remembered about that day. "He made me close my eyes and promise ta keep 'em closed. And, bastard that he is, he got me all lathered up and oiled me like he was gonna fuck me. He had his fingers in my ass while he sucked my cock and then he slicked it up until I was almost howling, I was riding so high. Me," and Buck paused to laugh a little, "there I was sure I knew what he was doing, him smelling so hot and ready I expected him to plow me through the bed."

The scene of Buck's arousal and desire was vivid in his mind's eye. He could guess the look on Chris' face, too--a smile that was part hesitation, part anticipation, part satisfaction and all evil. "Yeah?" he prompted, using his free hand to touch his fingers to Buck's cheek and stroke along the stubbled jaw. He barely resisted dry humping against the man's leg.

Buck twitched and stretched, and Vin realized with a jolt of lust that Buck was pressing his wrists into the mattress, fingers clenching on open air as if his arms were bound... Buck's voice went absent and breathy. "He said 'wait a minute, I gotta.' I remember that so clear: 'wait a minute, I gotta.' He crawled over me and I thought he was reaching for something, and he was half-sunk down on me before I realized what it was that felt so good."

Vin gave up resisting and began to thrust, hard and slow, the grinding friction of fabric and Buck's resilient muscle almost painfully intense. "And?" he croaked.

Buck, damn him, opened his eyes and grinned. "And what, Vin?"

"Damn it Buck, you cantankerous mule! What happened?"

Buck chuckled and swiveled his hips, varying the pressure on Vin's aching cock. "I'll tell you if you'll ride me," he offered, sly.

"I'll ride ya if you'll tell me," he countered, proud of himself for stringing that many words together sensibly.

Blue eyes softened, and Buck surrendered. "I was so scared for the first two seconds I couldn't even move. Then I was so blind with need, I broke the dowels in the bed frame so's I could get my hands on him." Carefully, he lifted his left arm, examining his hand. "I stared right into his eyes, to be sure I could read him, grabbed him round that little waist he's got, and just pulled him the rest of the way down onto me. Lord, he was tight, and the look on his face--well, I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. And when he was ready, I fucked the daylights out of him."

Buck continued to stare at his hand, carefully turning it. "Chris had these little bruises on the top of his butt, both sides, from my fingers gripping him. And me," he drew a line with his fingertips, a half-moon from his breastbone toward a flat brown nipple that peeked out above Nathan's bandaging effort, "I had these little blood crescents from his fingernails, digging into my chest." Buck rolled and heaved beside him, and Vin felt the press and power of that thick cock reaching out. "I missed those marks when they was gone."

Oh good God almighty. Vin rolled up to scramble out of his clothes. "Where have you got somethin'?" he asked, jerking his pants open and shoving them down.

"What?"

"Where have you got somethin'?" he urged, desperate. "Sheep fat, lard, hell, saddle oil, I don't care!"

Buck, damn him, chuckled. "Oh. Top drawer of the bureau."

Fingerprints marred the tin's smooth surface, and even that excited him. He clawed it open, scooped up a large dollop, and reached round. He had to pull his shirttails out of the way, realizing belatedly he should have gone on and got himself naked, but it was too late for that now. He shoved with two fingers, flinching from the first shock of entry and cold grease, then pushed further inside.

Buck, on the bed, eased himself to one side then the other, carefully pushing his trousers down. He got them almost as far as his knees, then lay there wriggling until the fabric was at his ankles. That little trick, exposing the heavy, blood-darkened cock that arched over the flat belly, was too much for Vin. Barely restraining a war cry, he jumped onto the bed and started to straddle Buck, when a fragile right hand moved, infuriatingly, to cover the end of Buck's erect cock and hide it between palm and belly.

"Whoa there, boy."

"What?" he growled. He knew what he needed.

"Go back 'n get that grease, you forgot something else that needs it."

"Shut up. Get yer hand out of the way and fuck me." Buck's eyes measured him for a second that felt like a week. "Damn it, Buck, you asked me, I'm here, now get on with it!"

Buck glared at him. "It's my dick. I decide where it goes and when," he said stubbornly.

Vin couldn't believe his ears. On the edge of a killing fury, he swiped Buck's injured hand out of the way and half-heartedly slicked his greasy fingers over Buck's cock. "You happy now?" he snarled.

Buck just smiled a ferocious and beatific smile, and promised, "Not as happy as you're gonna be in a minute. Easy now." He looked down and watched Buck grasp that big arrow he wanted shot right up inside him, spreading the oil over the wide, flat tip. Buck was real good. Real careful. Real big.

On fire, Vin scooted his knees up either side of Buck's hips, hearing a sigh that sounded resigned. Good. The man was finally following instructions. Reaching back, Vin pulled at one cheek to open himself better, felt the wet cockhead slide across his skin, and lined himself up. He groaned at the first kiss of flesh to hole and pushed himself down.

"Hold still." Buck's order was firm, and much as Vin wanted just to collapse himself down and bridge the gap, he obeyed. The feel of that smooth head spreading him open, that big shaft just on the edge of spitting him, oh it hurt and it teased and it carved out a craving in his gut he hadn't satisfied since he'd left the Comanche.

Vin opened his eyes, gasping through the feeling. Buck's eyes were on his face, searching, intent. "I'm fine," he grated. "I ain't no fragile flower."

"You are to me," Buck said, sincere.

Fuck! Damn the man for not getting on with it! Vin was balanced on this knife-edge between the pain and the bliss and Buck had go to spouting poetry?! He opened his mouth to properly slander the man beneath him, but Buck obviously treated flowers differently than Vin did, because Buck gathered himself and thrust up, hard, burying several inches into him in a stroke. Before Vin could quite gasp, Buck pushed again, implacably pushing in, in, in.

Buck grit his teeth to keep from moving any more, cursing the general uselessness of his arms. Those shoves had stopped Vin's complaining, which was good, and Vin had followed him back down to the bed, sitting heavily on his pelvis. But Vin's face was contorted into one of those looks that was both pain and pleasure, and Buck couldn't help but recall the look on Chris' face, that first time. Chris had been more scared, less certain, but just as determined. Buck sighed, drowning in the slick, silk heat around his cock that squeezed tight, so tight. The press on his flesh, the narrowness of the channel, the promise of it, was so good that he wanted to throw control to the wind and fuck himself dry. He hadn't felt so near the edge in a long while.

"Take off your shirt," he ordered.

Vin looked down with wild eyes. "What?"

"Your shirt," Buck urged, frustrated at how hampered he was, messed up like this. "Take it off, let me see you."

Buck watched comprehension dawn in Vin's eyes, saw them heat up even further before Vin reached down and peeled his shirt off over his head. Lord, he looked good--tan and strong, well muscled and smooth as a baby. "Thank you," he breathed, smiling, and he showed his appreciation with another thrust, a better angle.

Vin heard himself make a noise that sounded terribly like "Uhnnghnhh," and hoped Buck translated it to mean "oh damn, you feel so good up in there." Because he couldn't wait much longer. Vin felt Buck's legs shift, felt the press of thighs against his butt as Buck bent his knees and drew his legs up to give Vin something to rest against. Then Buck's hips rolled just a bit, to close that last tiny space between them. Vin heard himself make that sound again, and pressed his palms flat against Buck's chest, the hard muscles flexing beneath his hands.

Buck felt the tremors, felt the viselike grip on his cock begin to ease, watched through a haze of happy lust as his partner squirmed against his groin, seeking that perfect angle with which to pleasure himself. "Vin?" Buck grated, needing to see his eyes.

Vin looked down at him, eyes on fire, cursed a couple of times under his breath, then pleaded, "Move!"

Buck moved. He moved, he groaned, he thrust deep and hard; he adjusted the angle of his hips until he heard that sound some more. The heat up there was amazing, like Vin just burned hotter than the next man. The tightness kept compelling him to go slowly, to keep his pace measured, because he didn't think Vin had done this in a long, long while. He devoured Vin's naked form: the dense, manly shape of muscle in shoulders and arms that worked as Vin held himself up, the ripple of belly as Vin answered his thrusts, and the blood-dark cock, twitching, its tip glistening with fluid.

He was so close. Too close--Buck stifled a groan and lost himself, thrusting madly, sharp short bursts that flung him over the edge and into joy, shooting deep and sweet and long into the dark secret pleasure that was Vin Tanner's body.

Vin froze at the rapid thrusts, shocked. He couldn't believe Buck would let loose first, but oh yes, those hard bursts of movement inside, the way they stretched his hole and hit that spot in him that made his spine arch and his cock dance, he knew what those were. He almost whimpered with the loss when Buck went stock-still, raised hips nearly lifting him off the mattress, balanced on the thick pole that speared him but helpless to move, to take any advantage of it at all. Buck groaned, long and low, while Vin stared down in near-despair.

He could do himself, he could just get his balance as soon as Buck settled back to the bed, and do himself. And he'd have to. For some reason, he couldn't seem to take that in. His balls ached, he needed to come so badly, and Buck had just gone off and left him hanging, stuck here on the painful edge between release and frustration. He whimpered.

Buck opened pleasure-infused eyes. They focused quickly enough, and whatever Buck saw in his face made the big man grin, then chuckle happily, still panting but joyful nonetheless. "You look so hungry for it," Buck said with affection, and Vin was ready to scream, he was so close. "Let's get you where you ought to be before I lose what you're liking so much, pard," Buck said then, in that dark sweet chocolate voice that roused Vin so well.

Oh hell yes, Buck was staying hard; that beautiful tool wasn't fading yet. Buck shifted again and started thrusting, short and sharp and perfect. The passage was wetter, slicker as Buck's own cum eased the way even more. Oh, but this felt good. Buck was damned impressively, gut-pleasingly big. "I can't rub ya worth a damn," Buck panted. "You're gonna have to do it yourself."

He wasn't sure he was going to need it. Buck's cock was setting off sparks at the base of his spine that made his cock twitch up to tap his belly. Vin's mind slipped its gears and he put a hand to his shaft, just to ease the throbbing ache. The sweet friction inside and out made him groan, and reflexively, he jerked his cock once, twice.

It happened so fast that the moment of glory surprised him. Buck's hips swiveled, and like a fuse had burned from his brain and down his spine, the explosion rocked through his pelvis and then out to every other part of him. Vaguely he felt his muscles seize and jerk, heard Buck's soft voice trying to ease him down.

It didn't matter. He just fell forward, boneless, barely catching himself with sticky hands on Buck's chest, and trembled for an eternity. Every few seconds, Buck would twitch his hips up an inch, and the movement inside Vin sent aftershocks through him, each easier, more tame.

When he opened his eyes Buck was watching him, waiting for him. Buck looked tired. Tired and very, very smug. "Damn," he said with the first breath he could spare.

"Thought I'd forgot you?" Buck chortled, low and deep and far too self-satisfied for any man. "Hell, I got me a reputation to protect."

"Consider it protected," Vin panted. There was some combination inside Buck, of the raunchiest and the most beautiful parts of loving, that fit Vin's tastes like a hand in a glove.

"C'mon up here."

Vin lifted his head to meet the kisses offered, feeling Buck's moustache tickle and his beard scratch as the pleasure slowly, deliciously, waned. Finally, he shifted his knees and with a little grunt of pleasure, lifted himself and let that beautiful cock pull out of him.

"You're awful noisy, you know that?" Buck observed at one point.

"Sorry."

Buck rolled them to their sides, hissing when his stitched arm hit the mattress. A little strategic shifting settled them both comfortably. "I wasn't complaining," he said happily.

Vin grinned, pressing his wet belly against Buck's. Damn. He was sticky, his ass slick and loose and good-sore, his belly smeared with cum. It felt perfect. "You like noisy fellers?"

"I like you, Vin," Buck said simply.

That pretty much summed it up.

CHAPTER 17

JD had climbed up into the church steeple, just to have some time alone. The church was set apart, separated from other buildings by a wide alley on one side, the street in front, and an old rickety carriage barn twenty feet behind it, and Josiah and Nathan had agreed it was safe up here. He kept forgetting to be scared of the Two-Bloods, in light of everything else there was to be scared of. The moon was rising, coming up low in the sky, and he wondered if the Two-Bloods out there would howl tonight. He wanted to howl himself, and warn them off. But he didn't, worried that he didn't know how yet, couldn't do it well enough, or that he'd be inviting them in instead of telling them to keep out.

The land, all black shadows and silver slices of moonlight, was dangerously, deceptively beautiful. He wondered why he was less scared of people who wanted to hurt his friends than he was of the idea that one of the guys might have designs on him. It wasn't like they'd force him, not like somebody had forced Buck. And there he had stood like a fool in the bathhouse, scared even to undress. He'd been scared that if he got naked somebody might look at him, might want him. That maybe one of them wanted to get inside him, to--to give it to him in the ass, like Ezra had said. There weren't any pretty words for it.

Was this how girls felt? Well, they were braver than he was, then. So many women had relations, married, even made babies long before the age he was now, and he could barely suffer the thought of being wanted the way a man would want a woman. But it wasn't the same. A girl knew what parts would go where right from the start of knowing anything. Besides, it was natural, what men and women did. It was what their different bodies were made for. Not like--not like this.

He'd seen Vin once, one early morning on the trail, half-hard when he had relieved himself. And he'd seen Buck before. They were big, both of them. They were way too big--this was crazy. He didn't want it, didn't want to think about it, and didn't want to lie with men. Not even Buck. Not even though it had felt so much better than anything he had ever imagined.

He didn't want it. But he didn't want to sound like a kid and go tell everyone he didn't want it. And he sure as hell didn't want anyone asking him if he wanted it.

There was no reason in the world why he should want it. It didn't feel particularly good when things came out of there, so he saw no reason to think it would feel good to have things put in. Except that Ezra said it did, and Chris said it did, and lord knew Buck said it did. The shudder of revulsion didn't come, up here, and he supposed it was because he was so safe. He was in a church for Pete's sake. Nothing was gonna happen in a church.

In the bathhouse, now, that was another situation entirely. When he had realized something was going on behind him, he had remembered that there was more to be done than just, well, the one thing. He'd remembered how unbelievably, indescribably wonderful it had been when Buck put his mouth on him. How gentle Buck's touch was, and how comforting. He'd sat there in his tub and listened with all his might, and guessed from the tiny splashes of water and the catches in Buck's breath what Chris must be doing. And he'd pictured Buck sitting by his tub, putting his hand into the water, eyes sparkling with playfulness. JD had gotten scared, just because he wasn't scared. He'd gotten scared because he'd started to get hard.

"Just quit it, JD," he whispered aloud, taking comfort from the sound of his voice. "You're worrying over nothing." Probably, they'd be plenty happy with each other. It was pointless to delude himself; he had no idea what he was doing in bed, nor why anyone might want him there. Buck hadn't even come. Buck. How bad did you have to be, for Buck not to like it?

He scrubbed at his face with his hands, trying to push some sense, some order into his brain that just would not come.

Some time later, light flickered from the narrow stairwell, and Josiah's voice wafted up. "JD? You all right up there?"

"Yeah, Josiah," he called quietly. "Just thinkin'."

The stair frame creaked, but the light continued on up and Josiah's head popped through the open trap door. The candle flame flickered even inside its chimney; the breeze was coming up.

"What's weighing so heavy on your heart, John Dunne?"

JD shrugged, making room in the narrow space for Josiah to stretch his legs. He liked it when Josiah called him by his name like that. It made him feel more grown-up or something.

"They won't get Buck," Josiah tried after a moment. "We ain't gonna let that happen, son."

"I know. It ain't them I'm worried about."

"Yeah, I thought as much." Josiah kept his silence, and JD continued to stare out at the desert. The moon was climbing, and the shadows grew shorter, sharper around their edges. "So you're worried you're gonna like somethin', then."

He froze. "What?"

"I asked," Josiah repeated gently, his voice no more than a whisper, "if you're worried you're gonna like something that the boys might want to do with you."

JD looked over, read the patient, gentle expression by the light of the full moon. The veils parted, the confusion all but disappeared, and he understood. "Scared of what I already did like," he whispered back. "More scared of what I don't wanna like." Josiah mmmhmm'd at him, and leaned his head back against the rail, while JD felt the knots in his gut tighten. "How did you know?"

Josiah shrugged, eyes on the stars. "Seemed like somethin' you'd be worried about. It was something I worried about when I did it, and I have plenty of years of experience that you don't."

Josiah had done it before, too? "What kinda preacher were you?" he demanded.

"What?" Josiah sounded confused, then a deep rumble of laughter spilled out of him. "I was talking about what happened between me and Buck," he corrected gently. "That was the first time I ever did anything like that with a man, too, so it looks like you 'n me are in the same boat."

"Oh." JD had never looked too closely at Josiah. Josiah was the most violent of them by far, worse even than Chris. JD had seen Josiah drink harder than Chris, and knew his daddy was a missionary... he had never thought they had much of anything in common. "I thought you meant, you know, before him," he finally admitted.

"No." There was a gentleness in Josiah's voice that JD appreciated more than he could say.

Oh great, now he'd accused the man of--of-- "Sorry," he mumbled.

But Josiah rolled his head back and forth against the railing. "It's all right, John Dunne. It could have happened, I suppose; there was a time, when I was a little younger than you, when I thought maybe I should just break every rule in the Book." He chuckled, the sound soft in the quiet dark. "That one's in there a time or two. Preachers' kids, they have a lot to rebel against. I like to think the Good Lord understands."

"I'll say." But he couldn't say he expected God to understand this.

"But we were talking about you."

JD turned his face back to the sky, gazing at the moon and wondering if he wasn't better off letting a little more time pass. It hadn't even been a week, after all. "I just feel so stupid," he muttered tiredly. "Ezra said this wasn't something most men knew about, that I wasn't dumb or strange for not knowing. He wasn't lying, was he? I mean, all a' you knew, and it looks like most of you have even done it before."

JD's voice was so worried, it took all Josiah's fortitude not to burst out laughing. He suddenly saw the others from JD's perspective: Ezra a true deviant, likely slavering over every male member that walked toward him; Buck with a thirst for his pack mates that looked unquenchable; Vin acting like he'd just opened six new presents on Christmas morning and couldn't decide which toy to play with first; Chris coming out of his shell; even Nathan confronted these matters with a worldly point of view. JD must feel like little Alice in that book by Lewis Carroll, everything all turned upside down and topsy-turvy.

How had a young man as normal as JD ended up in this nexus of sin? Josiah drew two deep breaths to guarantee his voice. "I'd say it'd be unusual for any two of us to have had first-hand knowledge of this sort of thing. That more of us than that did... I can't begin to see the meaning of God's plan in this." Because if this was about resisting temptation, God had put it in front of the wrong people.

"Josiah, I never even knew men could be together," JD muttered, self-deprecating. "How dumb is that?"

"Don't do that to yourself, JD," he whispered. "Don't punish yourself for the goodness inside you."

JD shrugged, still deeply troubled. "But I don't know--" he snapped his mouth shut, and Josiah waited. God had been generous tonight, had revealed His love, and the peace that came from communion with the Spirit. Josiah had the patience for Nathan's stubborn frustrations, the brotherly love to keep his mouth shut while Nathan started working things out for himself. JD's fears were simple, by comparison. "I don't know how to do anything, Josiah," JD finally whispered. "I barely know more'n how to do it to myself. I never thought about being any good for a woman until Buck got all over me me about bein' nice to the working girls, or what it would take to be good for one. I never thought about being any good for a man at all, and I don't know if I can do it."

He was troubled, all right. Josiah looked out on the desert and kept his counsel.

"Josiah? You know the others--not just Buck, but Chris and Ezra and Vin too, I think, you know they've all done that? Not what you and me did," he whispered. "I mean the other."

He had wondered, after Chris' hesitant admissions this morning. "Yeah, I figured."

"Ez--Ezra said he liked getting that. Chris said--he said that things felt good up in there. And Buck..."

The laughter threatened to bubble up again, and ruthlessly Josiah suppressed it. He could only imagine what Buck might say on the subject. Buck was walking, talking fulfillment, just waiting to happen.

"Buck said he liked it, what I done." The blush was so evident in JD's tight voice, Josiah almost felt sorry for him. Of all of them, the physical act must have been momentous for JD. It was a credit to JD's love for Buck and Buck's skill at putting people at their ease that the young man had been able to perform at all. "But he didn't look like he liked it. He didn't, um... Oh hell, he didn't come. He didn't even get hard." JD paused long enough to rake his fingers through raven-dark hair. "He said I was fine, that I didn't do anything wrong, but he didn't come even though he said he liked it. Do you know if men come from that, Josiah?"

"No, son, I don't," Josiah said. His educated guesses, given how Buck had responded when they were together, he kept to himself.

If anything, JD sounded more anxious. "Great, then you don't know what to do either. Of all the people I picked to talk to--" Frustration turned to suspicion in the blink of an eye. "Did Buck come when you two did it?"

"No," he said carefully, "not while we did that."

"But he did, is that what you're sayin'? You did somethin'--"

"It don't matter either way," Josiah interrupted, not sure he was comfortable talking about what he had done just yet. "There's a lot more to intimacy than that sort of pleasure."

"That's easy for you to say," JD hissed. "He came, with you!"

Josiah smiled at the misery in JD's voice; it shouldn't be funny, and it wouldn't have been funny if it had happened to him. But JD was just so damned young.

"I'll bet he can come from just the fucking, if the person knows what he's doing," he said, forlorn. "I bet Ezra comes from that, he said it was as good as being with a woman and I know that's s'posed to be good, real good. But it was real good with Buck, for me but not for him, and if them four are gonna start spending all their time with each other, and Chris, Ez and Vin all want Buck to be with 'em all the time, where does that leave me?"

JD pulled up short, and Josiah recognized the heart of the matter when he saw it. Great and merciful Creator. "I do believe I saw Buck chasing you up and down the street just this morning, tormenting you like any other day," he ventured, treading very carefully.

"Yeah... Josiah," he asked, small-voiced, "how does a body learn about that stuff?"

Josiah felt a chill run down his back, like the devil sat on his shoulder. "You listen to me JD. Don't you ever have relations you don't want to have, you hear me? You ain't got no idea how bad the others would feel, if they learned that you used 'em like that. And Buck, it'd hurt him the worst. Don't you lie with any of 'em just because you're scared they ain't gonna love you no more." He took a breath, tempered his heart and his voice. What would that do to this family, the remorse and the regret--what could it do to Buck? "They love you so much, they ain'tsniffin' around you. They love you so much they're gonna protect you even from themselves until you're ready to know that part of 'em. And if you ain't never ready, that'll be fine too, you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you." But he was quiet, so quiet, and defeated-sounding, like he hadn't slept in days.

JD was the little brother these men had never known, the innocence they'd lost so very young, or never had, and was loved for it. How to explain that to him so he'd believe it? "JD," he began slowly, carefully, "when you and Casey--if you and Casey ever lie together, you'll be her first, and it'll be a special thing like words can't describe, for her and for you. You know that, don't you?"

JD turned to look at him, his skin a silver reflection of moonlight. "Yeah, I know," he said, as serious as Josiah had ever heard him.

"Now, would you want to rush her, have her be with you just to satisfy your loins, just 'cause she was afraid she'd lose you if she didn't?"

"No! Josiah, I'd never do that ta her."

"Then you understand, don't you, how the boys'd feel if you laid with 'em when you didn't want to, when you weren't ready. They'd feel real bad."

JD's whole body jerked, he was so taken aback. "I never thought about it like that."

"Well," he allowed, "it ain't like you've had a lot of time to contemplate it. Everything's been happening pretty quick."

"Yeah. Yeah, Josiah, it sure has." JD frowned, looked miserable but, Josiah thought, a bit less miserable than before. "Josiah, I still want to know..."

"You will, if you decide to. If you find yourself ready, well, you just tell whichever one of the boys you decide to tell. Tell him flat out, Buck was your first and you're scared you ain't gonna be any good, but that you want to, and you want it with him, and I tell you, the look you'll see in his eyes, how special you'll make him feel, you'll know right away that I'm right."

"I couldn't just tell 'em something like that!" JD hissed, outraged.

It wasn't like they didn't know already. "You could. If you thought Casey had been with somebody else, you'd feel different, right? Not so worried about her, about making it special..."

"Would you stop comparin' me to girls?" JD groused. "And leave Casey outta this."

Josiah fought the urge to chuckle, and lost. "Sorry, John Dunne. But you trust me now, about the other. They love you so bad, it hurts 'em sometimes. 'Specially Buck. That ain't gonna change."

JD was worrying so hard, his eyebrows made one dark line across his face. "You swear? I mean, you really swear, this ain't something you think you know, like all that crap about romancing a woman or fancy words?"

He gave his heart up, and his faith, to the young man beside him and nodded solemnly. "I swear."

"They ain't--" JD's voice broke in his uncertainty. "They ain't gonna think I'm some stupid kid for not knowin' nothin'?"

Carefully, Josiah reached out a hand, glad when JD leaned into the comforting touch. "They know you're a man, John Dunne. They know it, and they show it every day, every time they trust you to watch their backs. We all know you're a man, and a man c'n tell his lovers the truth about himself. I'm not steering you wrong." They sat for a while longer, and when JD started chewing on his knuckle, Josiah figured he'd be all right. "I left Nathan worrying over the idea of being his brothers' keeper. It's past time to round him up and get to bed. C'mon, JD, let's go."

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

"C'mon, Ezra, let's go," Chris muttered. He had dreaded this moment for the last hour, but there was something cowardly about trying to slip off, knowing that Ezra Standish would jump up to follow him anyway. Ezra's opinion of Two-Blood strategy had changed so much today that the gambler had dutifully followed Chris to the outhouse an hour earlier, drawing his gun as they stepped out the back door of the saloon and keeping his back to a wall, to scan the surrounding area. Better to make leaving an order, instead of a failed retreat.

"Gentlemen," Ezra said urbanely, gathering up and quickly pocketing both his money and his cards, "it has been a pleasure."

Chris knew better than to think that people were looking at him funny. He was a common enough fixture in this place, and had slept off enough of his more maudlin drunks in the storeroom upstairs, that no one paid him special mind. Except maybe Inez Recillos. Her brown eyes watched them with an intensity that belied her friendly smile.

"I mentioned that the visit from Buck's people might have put us in danger," Ezra breathed beside him. "She suspects nothing."

Was he that transparent? He felt like window glass, the way Ezra seemed to read every twitch, every look. But he said nothing, just paced on up to the forbidding door and stepped aside to let Ezra work the key.

Lamps burned inside, and Chris raised an eyebrow. "I had Inez send her cousin up to light the lamps," Ezra explained.

"Inez has a cousin here?"

Ezra laughed lightly, one of those polite social laughs that conveyed as much arrogance as amusement. "You really do manage to keep yourself apart, don't you?" he observed.

Chris didn't know what to say to that. There was nothing to say; he only knew Inez because of that mess Buck had put himself into over her, and because she served the whiskey. He dropped his hat and coat in an armchair and bent to heel off his boots. He could sense Ezra behind him, opening the closet, fumbling with hangers. He stared for a second at his naked feet, wriggling his toes against the fine, thick wool rug Ezra had laid here. He wondered if he should wash up again, and stopped himself short. Time to stop Ezra just as short.

"We ain't doing anything tonight," he said flatly. "Just so you know."

"Oh yes, we most certainly are doing 'something,' Chris," Ezra answered politely. "We are having a conversation about why JD showed up at my door this morning."

Oh, shit. That seemed so long ago, he'd almost forgotten it. As he unbuttoned his black shirt, he turned. Ezra had hung up his emerald green coat and was brushing it carefully clean. "I'm listening."

Green eyes flicked over him and away. "I had rather expected you to talk."

"'Bout what?" he sidestepped, shrugging his shoulders out of his shirt.

Ezra looked again, assessing the stormy eyes and the man behind them; Chris looked like he'd been poked with a stick and was tensed, waiting to be poked again. Ezra took some comfort in that as he tried to find his footing with this man. "About why JD showed up at my door this morning," he repeated neutrally.

Chris turned away, and Ezra watched the pale skin of his arms and back reflecting lamplight, watched the bony, pointed elbows bend as Chris began to work at his fly. Idiot, he snapped to himself, the man just said he doesn't want you. That the scene in the bathhouse had aroused him deeply was, doubtless, known to everyone who had been there. That it had reminded him of Chris' hand on his own manhood and started a conflagration in his loins, perhaps only he had known. He hoped only he had known.

Given his predilections, it hadn't surprised him at all to find two men in amorous play appealing. Given his affections, it hadn't surprised him to find these two men particularly attractive together. But the flush had raged like wildfire along his skin. His heart had beat wildly, and the feeling inside had far outstripped any simple desire he had known in the past. He had seen Buck and Chris kiss before. He had seen them do a whole hell of a lot, in fact, that was both familiar and passionate. Yet what he had just witnessed conveyed an innocence he wouldn't have believed existed in either of these hardened men. For all its physicality, it seemed not sexual at all, but something far more.

And now he and Chris would lie in his bed together in the dark, and he would stare at the ceiling all night.

"You were the best man for the job," Chris said so quietly Ezra had to strain to hear the words.

"Excuse me?"

Chris frowned. "I said you were the best man to handle JD."

He was, perversely, flattered. "I daresay you don't mean what I think you do," he averred, resisting the urge to pride himself overmuch. The trousers came down, Chris' pale, narrow bottom exposed to the light. Why in hell did Chris Larabee sleep naked? Why did he have to display himself so? Ezra swallowed and looked elsewhere.

"I ain't gonna mince words with you, Ez." Chris turned, looking as confident and sure of himself as he did fully clothed. "We gotta pull together here. You told me you liked getting fucked, and all that. I can't say that I know much about it. Buck's the only one who ever... he's the only one I'd ever let--"

Chris frowned, and Ezra felt something shifting inside him, some new measure of respect at Chris Larabee's hard-won knowledge of himself, and his hard-offered honesty.

Ezra wanted, somehow, to protect that. "JD shocked the hell out of me," he offered with a tiny smile.

"Me, too," Chris agreed. "He just--he just came right out and asked me, while I was sitting there drinking my coffee. I thought I was gonna choke to death." He shook his head. "That boy's got more balls than sense, sometimes."

"I'd say he has more sense than most of us, actually."

Chris smiled a little, and turned to fold his pants over the chair back.

"I do have clothes hangers, you know," Ezra pointed out.

"Nah, I'm good here." Chris set his gun on the nightstand and then crawled under the sheet on the far side of the bed, propping up on an elbow and the pillow. "Looks like you done right by him. Whatever you told him, he trusts you now."

"I told him I'd beat the tar out of anyone who made improper advances on him, or made him uncomfortable."

Chris chuckled at that, and rolled onto his back. "Get in line."

"Yes, well. I don't expect any of the others to approach him. Why risk his discomfort when it isn't strictly necessary?"

"I was thinking on that," Chris said slowly, and Ezra watched Chris tuck his hands behind his head. He was so slim, the skin of his chest and belly so pale. "Maybe it is necessary. Not the sex, but... I dunno, somethin'. You see how JD'll stand right next to Buck, lean on him whenever he can? He'd sleep with him at night if he didn't think he'd be in the way. And how Buck's acting, and Vin and you... maybe it's s'posed to be happening."

The thought had crossed Ezra's mind, and he was distinctly uncomfortable with it. Not, as Chris seemed to be, with the idea of physical contact between them all, but with how amenable he was to it. When he had pulled the last bit of paper from JD's bowler and unfolded it, that "x" had caused a physical, near-painful shift inside him. He had known they were all friends of one sort or another, had accepted that they all had come to rely on each other for a few certain things. He had somehow avoided the knowledge that they had become much more. Ezra had stared at that "x" and realized that these men actually cared about each other, loved each other. It was a frightening word for a man such as he, and he had stared at the paper for a long time, digesting the information.

But once decided, he had committed himself fully. Even before his relations with Buck, he had known he would want the man in his bed as often as he could lure him there. And when Vin had kissed him, he had realized the breadth and the benefits of his commitment. Where he was needed, he would go. Where he was invited, he would lie. Joyfully. He felt like a brood mare, ready and willing to back up against whatever stud loosed itself on her. It was distinctly embarrassing, even as it was so very exciting. "Buck's scent," he offered. "He's putting off a... a bonding scent, probably a reproductive signal of some kind. We're all responding to it in one way or another."

"I s'pose." Then Chris grinned that crazy grin of his. "It's a good excuse anyway."

Ezra turned away to hide his smile. He wasn't going to argue with that. He finally began to undress, putting away each item as he removed it--suspenders, socks, cuff links, tie, and shirt. Buck was putting off some sort of scent; even Ezra could detect it, earthy and musky and quite enticing. He stood in his trousers for a long minute, staring at a nightshirt folded in an open drawer. "If I might ask a question on a somewhat tangential topic?" he ventured, calling himself ten kinds of a fool.

"Sure."

"If you think these assignations are supposed to happen, well... why aren't we going to do anything, tonight?"

He listened to the long, slow breath from the man on the bed, wondered why he was so masochistic that he needed Chris to spell it out for him: I don't want you. But Chris said nothing at all, and Ezra stood a full minute, waiting for him to reply.

Nothing to say, then. He felt ashamed--for asking, for expecting, for being so deviant that he wanted the man in the first place. It wasn't the damned smell of Buck; Chris Larabee's appeal had never been lost on him. There was something wounded and gentle inside the black-clad, violent exterior. Sometimes, he actually seemed normal, as regular as church on Sundays, while at others the pain won out, and at still other times he drank himself to madness and took his frustrations out on anyone Buck couldn't get out of his way.

He wasn't even the type Ezra usually felt attracted to. He was too small, too pale, and too remote. Suppressing a sigh of his own, Ezra walked around the room and blew out the lamps, one at a time, as slowly as possible. Delaying the moment when he would crawl into that bed and stare at the ceiling. He felt his way back to the dresser and the open drawer, and though it was dark, he pulled the nightshirt down over his head before he removed his trousers and underwear. Carefully, avoiding all contact with the man beside him, he slipped his feet beneath the turndown and relaxed onto his back.

The silence was so thick it was palpable, and like waiting for a mark to buy his bluff, he lay quietly and breathed evenly. Calm. It was his job to hold the silence until the mark broke, and they always did. He simply had to wait. He just had to--

"I'm sorry," he blurted out; the silence here, now, was intolerable.

"You got nothing to be sorry for, Ez," Chris whispered back, and there was pain in his voice that Ezra couldn't begin to understand. If he had nothing to be sorry for, then why did he feel so damned awful? "I'm the one ought to be sorry."

Ezra couldn't say anything, just lay there and fought the pain that tightened the back of his throat and throbbed behind his eyeballs. The silence stretched tight between them, but as much as he wanted to break it, he could think of nothing to say. The clock on the dresser ticked loudly, and the darkness was thick before his wide-open eyes. This was going to be a long and dreadful night.

Thank the lucky stars, Chris started talking again. "Most a' my life," he whispered, "I thought the only person I ever made love to was my wife. Plenty of sex, but not the other. Even Buck--he made it too easy, and I shied away from him a lot back then. Too stupid to know why. I didn't admit to myself that we weren't just fooling around until long after we'd stopped." A short pause, a long sigh, then, "I'm just scared."

Carefully, taking a grave risk, Ezra drew a slow breath. More secrets in the dark; he wondered who would show up at his door tomorrow. "You'd prefer this hadn't happened at all."

"It don't matter what I prefer. It has happened, and I done a fair job of committing myself. I'm not gonna back out on my promises."

As a declaration of love and devotion it fell miles short of the mark. But Ezra suspected it was the very best Chris Larabee could do, for now. "It's all right, Chris," he whispered. He would never try to insert himself where he wasn't invited. "And it's not like I've never gone without relief before. It's hardly going to kill me."

"But everything Buck's doing, the way you all are acting, what he's said--it don't have to happen."

Integrity in matters of the body and the heart, Ezra had never had trouble with. He had been misused too many times even to consider misusing another. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly, meaning it. "I'd no more try to seduce you than I'd try to coerce JD. A gentleman doesn't take advantage, a friend certainly doesn't. And you are obviously unwilling. That is all that needs to be said."

"I ain't."

"Excuse me?"

"I ain't unwilling." Chris sounded faintly embarrassed. "That isn't the problem, not after what the three of us done, and that--God, that scene in the bathhouse. Trust me." A short, harsh laugh ensued. "I ain't unwilling."

"What? Then..."

"I'm scared, I told you." He sounded surly, and for the first time, Ezra thought he understood.

"You're scared of me?" The silence was eloquent, and Ezra felt his heart beat a little faster. He hadn't known that Chris respected him enough to care about his opinion. He hadn't considered that Chris might be intimidated by his past. "I'd like to point out," he whispered, absurdly happy, "that of the pair of us, I'm the slut in this bed, not you. But for all that, you have nothing to fear. There are a great many intervals between a fuck you'd pay for and the sanctification of the marriage bed. I suspect that eventually, you'll discover them all. You don't need to discover any of them tonight." He rolled to his side, imagining that he could see the shadowed form beside him in the darkness. "Not only is your reputation safe with me, but so are you."

Edgy silence now, and Chris' discomfort was palpable. "Why the hell am I the only one fighting all this?" he griped.

There were far more reasons than Ezra would bring up, as none was suitable for what felt deliciously like a courtship. "Oh, I think Nathan and JD are kicking and screaming a bit more than you."

"You making fun of me, Ezra?"

He smiled in the dark. "Yes." A held-breath moment passed, then Chris turned, and a hand made contact, pressed against the fine striped cotton of his nightshirt, dragging it back and forth over the skin at his waist.

"You think that's smart?" Chris asked, voice dangerously low.

Thrilling to the touch, he nodded, unseen. "Yes."

The hand kneaded his flesh, gently testing. He shivered with its heat and promise. "You wearing a night shirt again?"

"Yes."

"That's real..." Chris' voice dropped a full register, going smoky and interested. "Any underwear?"

"No."

Chris inched toward him until he felt the man's body heat close, so close, and a foot brushed against his ankle. "Leave it on."

Ezra could keep neither the thrill nor the humor from his voice. "You like nightshirts?"

"I like the idea of a person wearing somethin' on top and nothing on the bottom. I like it a lot. So if we're gonna..."

"Only if you wish it."

"Then we're gonna. Leave it on."

It was quiet in the room. Bedclothes rustled. There came on occasion the moist sound of lips on lips, or a stuttered breath. "You got somethin'?" Chris asked at one point, and long minutes later, a groan muffled itself in a feather pillow. "Tight, ah god..." Chris gasped. Hands bunched in striped fabric, rubbing, rubbing, while other hands clutched the bedding. And then a damp, stuttered breath and an "ahhh!" --again, muffled in the pillows.

Heavy breathing, quiet rustlings. Chris' hand smoothed Ezra's nightshirt down, covering his hip demurely. Chris' naked body slid up against Ezra's clothed one, and an arm curled around the trim waist.

Not long after, the gentlest of snores broke the sated silence.

CHAPTER 18

JD Dunne woke before the sun, in desperate need of a pee. He lay in the hard rope bed, waiting for the stars to fade enough to find the chamber pot without tripping over anything. After all that embarrassing talking and exhaustive thinking, he had slept well even on Nathan's cot; the best way to thank Josiah would be to let the man sleep in a little, at least till the sun roused him. Light crept up slowly, and JD could make out the lines on the palm of his hand before he knew it. He eased up gently, quietly, taking tiny steps toward the dresser by the door. It was right where he thought, as was the chamber pot. He aimed carefully, went quietly, sighed a breath of honest relief and tucked himself back in.

Then he looked toward the bed.

Josiah lay mostly on his back, big body and thick legs making long straight shadows under the sheets. Nathan lay beside him, head tucked in against his shoulder, one hand over Josiah's chest. They weren't naked, neither one of them. Josiah's undershirt kept skin from touching skin everywhere but near his throat, where Nathan's fingers rested right alongside the collar. They weren't in anything that could be called a lover's embrace. They were just comfortable, asleep, together.

He knew he'd slept against Buck like that, on the trail. On cold nights he didn't even wait for the fire to die down, just dragged his bedroll over the edge of Buck's to keep twigs or grass from poking through, and tossed himself down. On rainy nights, he would glare balefully up at Buck until the big man sighed and finished his coffee and settled down to warm him.

There was nothing wrong with that.

It was innocent, like Josiah and Nathan looked innocent. He knew if somebody walked through Nathan's door right now they'd be embarrassed to be waking people, but they wouldn't be able to say something was amiss--at least, not to the face of any member of the Seven. Two men bunking together wasn't what you'd call common, but under the circumstances it was justified. Not even holier-than-thou Mr. Conklin could say a word against it.

He knew how comfortable it was, hearing somebody breathing near you. He knew how nice it was to feel the heat of a body, sometimes even when it was over-warm.

So how come he was the one sleeping alone?

Oh. Because Ezra had been trying to protect him. Well, every single one of the rabbits among them had already promised him his virtue was safe. And he was sleeping by himself on a rope-frame bed with corn-shuck ticking, and Ezra had a feather mattress and JD had never slept on a feather mattress.

So somebody was going switch out with him tonight.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris Larabee woke with a start, completely disoriented. He felt good, had no reason to feel good, didn't recognize the bed he was in or the-- oh. Memory woke just that second later than his instincts, and filled in all the blanks. Ezra, still dead to the world, had scooted to the far edge of the bed, away from his heat probably, the way this mattress held the warmth in, lulled a body to deeper rest. He paid no special attention to rising, as waking Ezra by accident was rarely the problem; getting his ass awake for work, rides, and on the trail, that was the problem. Feeling his way to the fold in one of the brocade drapes, he tied them back; it was still nearly dark, the sky lightening to blue on the horizon. He found a matchstick and a lamp, to find his clothes, a basin, and a cloth.

Then he looked toward the bed.

Ezra lay sprawled on his belly, one hand and one foot hanging out from beneath the covers and over the edge of the mattress. The nightshirt had bunched itself along the small of Ezra's back, and a thin line of flesh showed between the stripes and the solid white of the sheets. Chris' stomach tightened, at the thought of the nightshirt and its modest intimations, the smooth, bare curve of buttock beneath that had pushed back to his hands, and what he had done and would do again. He'd had more sex--a lot more sex--in the last week than he'd had in the last year, and he figured that next week he'd have even more than that.

Buck was going to know. Every detail. Chris couldn't imagine how hard or how thoroughly they'd need to wash for Buck not to know. Hell, the others would make a damned good guess. Just like he'd bet his last dollar that Buck and Vin had gone at it last night.

He wanted to panic. Not just because of the sex, though Lord knew all this willingness to lie with all these men unnerved him. It was the feelings that scared him.

It had been so long since he'd wanted people. Vin had been the first, since the fire, to rouse something besides rage or regret or numbness in him. Always one to strike his own path and let those who wanted to be with him come along if they would, for the first time Chris had been willing to follow overtly, immediately, had been willing to saddle up Pony and follow Vin somewhere, anywhere maybe, just to feel again. Before Vin, it had been hard to look at people without resenting the fact that they breathed while Sarah and Adam didn't.

Even Buck, the man he had drifted into Four Corners to find, had done him more harm than good, back then. Buck had seen everything, felt everything with him, had cried and drunk and watched him rail against the heavens, and as often as not they left a wake of destruction like a tornado's path behind them. Buck had been too close, too guilty, and too easy a target for his grief.

Another mystery set itself to rights in his mind. After the fire, he had wandered, and Buck had ridden with him for a time. Some nights in the wilderness, he had woken from a drunken stupor alone, near the coals of a dying fire. Always on his belly where he figured Buck had put him to keep him from drowning in his own vomit, he would first wonder where he was, then where Buck had slunk off to. It was the howling of wolves, one wolf really, that woke him, its desolate wail and the loneliness of that animal cry resonating in his chest. Sometimes that wail made him feel icy and cold inside. Others, it dragged great choking sobs out that left his belly sore and his head numb. He had cursed Buck for leaving him on those nights, to suffer that pain alone.

Chris blinked rapidly, the weight of that new knowledge as cutting as sharply as a knife.

What blind luck had brought Judge Travis to that street on that day, facing off those stupid enforcers of Stewart James'? What had made Vin open his mouth near a lawman, or Buck decide it would be fun to intimidate those poor bastards? What sliver of humanity had Vin re-awakened in him such that the next day, when Buck had pointed Mary Travis his way like a cat bringing a bird home, he hadn't seriously injured the man he knew best, and who knew him best?

He could have gone his way then, ridden with Vin straight to the hangman's noose, hoping his presence would keep a rope off that long neck, feeling alive until the trap door dropped open. Instead he had stayed here with Buck and Vin and four strangers. Never in his most twisted dreams had he imagined that the choice would land him in this room before dawn on a spring morning, feeling his manhood firm as he watched Ezra Standish sleep like the dead. Chris had thought himself safe back then, convincing himself that he had settled into a wary stalemate with life, feeling it but not too much, caring but not too deeply. What a bunch of bullshit he had fed himself.

Ezra shifted a little, the narrow foot retreating back under the sheet, and amidst a confusion of feelings he refused to try and unravel, he let desire have him. Padding to the bed, he eased Ezra to his back, crawled atop him and teased him hard before the man was properly awake. He nibbled the smooth throat, kissed the fine, narrow mouth, and stroked the manhood he was only just beginning to be able to call familiar. When Ezra was groaning and fisting his hands in the sheets, Chris pushed his legs apart and carefully, relentlessly entered him. It was quick and intense and he had to put his hand over Ezra's mouth at the moment of glory, to stifle the shout. When he came a moment later, it was all he could do to remember to breathe.

The feel of Ezra's hand stroking his hair registered first, then Ezra's heavy breath in his ear. "Not scared of me anymore, I see," Ezra said, sounding sumptuously satisfied.

"Guess not." Gently he eased out and climbed off the bed. "Time to get up."

Ezra laughed aloud and sprawled back against the pillows, nightshirt crumpled beneath his armpits, skin flushed and glowing, cum shining on his belly. Chris turned for the washbasin, flushing a little. All of this was still so new.

"What you lack in finesse, Chris, you more than make up for in insensitivity."

Chris smiled over his shoulder. Ezra was no more criticizing him than a dog would criticize a meaty bone.

Fifteen minutes later, Ezra blew out the last lamp and picked up the key to his room. Chris and the others had always thought he took hours to perform his ablutions and dress for the day, though how Ezra had conned them into believing that when he could leave a whole town in less than ten minutes astounded even him. Ezra, you are that good. As he backed out the door and inserted the key, Chris crowded along his back to whisper in his ear. "You know you just destroyed the excuses you've used on me for almost two years, don't you?"

Feeling the deeply pleasant ache from his posterior to his groin, Ezra suspected he'd have good enough reason to rise early, in the future. "This was a special case," he assured. "I prepared well in advance in order to accomplish such a feat." He nearly jumped when a hand palmed his buttock.

"Uh huh." The smirk in Chris' voice was thick, and Ezra didn't resist a smile.

Inez could be heard in the kitchen behind the bar, and he signaled Chris to silence as they slipped out the front. It was still dark when they reached the street, but light already filtered out of the jail through its closed window shades. Ezra looked askance and shook his head; the sun hadn't even crested the horizon yet. That people voluntarily rose this early out of mere habit--he suppressed a shudder. "There's no chance that our unwanted guests turned themselves in?" he asked, nodding without hope toward the jail.

"Chance'd be a fine thing," Chris muttered in reply. "More likely it's Vin, ruining another pot of coffee."

"That's it, I'm going back to bed." Chris banged a shoulder against his and smiled, making Ezra wonder at how different the Chris of this morning was from the Chris of five days, or even forty hours, ago. But the limits of that change were clearly demarcated: Ezra nodded good mornings to Mr. Wilson, and Bob and Jude Nelson, all of whom were entering or leaving the restaurant, while Chris' face went cool and he barely spared them a glance. Only the young Miss Tipper, a bit too round for his tastes but destined to be an attractive young woman, earned a polite nod. Ezra lazily contemplated the strategic advantages of a pack leader who refused to let the townsfolk get close. It might actually serve them all.

CHAPTER 19

"You're not going." Standing in the vee of Buck's thighs, leaning back enough to feel the heat of the broad chest, Chris let loose the words calmly, without defense or fanfare. He did it so well, apparently, that Buck didn't even know what he meant; not a muscle moved in the big body behind him.

But Ezra, looking bored as he rested on one hip in a straight-backed chair, stiffened.

"What?" Buck asked.

"I said you're not riding with us today."

Vin straightened from his casual lean against post that held the jail keys, catching on a second before Buck did. Blue eyes that had been sleepy and sated a moment ago snapped alert, watchful, and Chris tried to signal Vin down with a look.

"Well what am I doing, then?" Buck asked warily.

"You're staying in the saloon, in plain sight of public eyes, until we all get back."

"The hell I am!" Buck blurted out. Chris felt it then, like static electricity along his back and sides, as Buck's body began to wind up. And Buck, unintentionally, would wind up everyone in the room. Chris was just glad that only Vin and Ezra were here to witness what was sure to be a fight.

"You're staying, Buck." Wondering if it would help, hoping it would, he stepped back the last inch that brought him into contact with Buck from shoulder blades to thighs.

Ezra, carefully observing now, was impressed with Chris' strategy. When they'd come in awhile ago and seen Buck sitting on the end of JD's desk, Chris had stepped right between Buck's spread knees, ostensibly to steal Buck's coffee. But Chris had stayed there, in that distractingly intimate position, turning out to face Vin and nod a silent good-morning. He began to discuss a plan for the day with, Ezra would have sworn, not an ounce of conscious thought. Obviously, Ezra had been mistaken.

Buck's arm edged around Chris' waist, and Chris leaned into the touch. "I ain't," Buck said softly, and Ezra exhaled silently, carefully. There was no way this could go well.

One hand, the tanned skin so light compared to the black of the shirt, lifted to rest on Buck's thigh and squeeze gently, just above the knee. Chris' eyes remained steadfastly on the floor. "You're busted up, Buck, and you'll do more harm than good out there. How am I s'posed to let you come with us, huh?"

"I went yesterday."

"That oughta tell you why you're not coming today." Touché, Chris. Ezra had wondered if, or how, that debacle would be dealt with.

Buck felt his nerves tighten like fiddle strings at the very thought of being left behind. He hadn't been much good at letting Chris ride away at the best of times, but now, with Two-Bloods out there... Ducking his head, he breathed low and urgent against Chris' ear, "I can't stay here, worrying about y'all out there trying ta fight my fight for me. Don't ask me to, Chris." He felt Chris' weight shift and loosened his arm, his wrist dragging along the narrow waist as Chris turned to face him. The emotion in Chris' eyes tore at Buck's heart.

"I know exactly what you're feeling," Chris said evenly, "'cause I had to watch you fight for us while I stood there. I watched that bastard pull your arm out of its socket and blood you with a skinning knife while I couldn't do nothin'. I ain't gonna put you in a situation you can't defend yourself in. I ain't gonna watch it, not so soon."

"At least you were watching. Least you knew what was going on. Don't ask me ta stay here," he urged again.

"I ain't asking, Buck."

The instinct to fight was that hair stronger than the need to surrender, and Buck stiffened to snap out an angry retort when noise on the street registered. He twitched, listening, never taking his eyes off Chris. "It's the boys," he grimaced. Chris merely looked over toward the door.

Ezra took in the scene before him with a fresh eye, and wished he could rearrange the tableau before JD entered the room. Buck, hair finger-combed and wild, wearing last night's shirt, jaw dark with beard shadow, would call to mind images of carnal physicality even if Chris wasn't standing between his legs. Buck's arm at Chris' waist and Chris' hands high on Buck's thighs proclaimed their intimacy to any who might somehow have missed it otherwise.

A second later JD burst in, Josiah and Nathan right behind, and Ezra prepared to deflect both fear and judgment... that didn't come. Josiah observed benignly, and went straight toward the wood stove and coffee. Nathan took in the scene without comment, nodding all round. And JD, stunningly, seemed not to notice at all.

"Morning, Chris, Buck, Vin," JD greeted, charging Ezra like a bull at a red flag. Ezra resisted the urge to defend himself. "Ezra, I ain't ever slept in a feather bed before."

"Excuse me?"

"I ain't ever slept in a feather bed. And since we all gotta bunk together right now, I don't see why I shouldn't get to sleep in it while I got the chance."

Buck, doing an admirable job of sounding calm, taunted, "You got some kinda plans for that bed, boy?" Ezra resisted the desire to glare at their recalcitrant Two-Blood.

"Shut up, Buck," JD retorted, completely unfazed. "If y'all ain't wore each other out by now, you must be doing something wrong.

"Ez, we ain't gonna have such good reasons to double up all the time," he continued right over the ensuing laughter from several corners, "and I wanna sleep in a feather bed." He suddenly brought himself up short, blushing just slightly and looking guilty. "You don't mind, do ya?" he asked, as if he'd only just thought of it--which, Ezra noted with delight, he had.

For the perfectly timed distraction, if not for this flattering display of trust, Ezra replied, "No, young Mr. Dunne, I don't mind at all."

"Then--oh. Chris?" JD turned, again with not a flicker of concern over the pair's near-embrace, and Chris turned again to face the room. "Uh, would you mind sleeping up at Nate's? Just for tonight?"

"Chris c'n bunk with me," Buck offered, resting his chin on Chris' shoulder.

"I c'n bunk at Nate's," Vin volunteered, sounding only slightly annoyed to be ousted from Buck's bed.

Chris dropped his head to his hand and grabbed at his temples, as if trying to hold his temper in. "When you all get your comforts settled to your satisfaction, you just let me know, so we c'n go out and kill these people."

Ezrabarely restrained a chuckle while he watched Nathan glare around indiscriminately.

Nathan grumbled, "I ain't noticed nobody asking me 'bout what I think of who sleeping in my room," Given how Nathan studiously ignored the way Chris stood, Ezra figured that something must have changed for the black man last night, too. He pondered how to find out what.

"I ain't noticed nobody focusing on the job at hand," Chris retorted, though as a display of hostility from this man, it was hardly noteworthy. "Vin, you keep on in Buck's room. I'll swap with JD." Barely audibly, he muttered, "I could use the rest." Buck snorted, and Chris continued in a louder voice, "Now could we get back to work here?"

"I'd say it's time we did," Josiah said soberly. "Chris, Nathan told me something about search plans for today. How do you want to divide things up?" Before Chris could draw breath, he continued, "We ain't got enough coffee cups. Vin, you finished?"

"Fer now." Vin handed his cup across and Josiah filled it.

"Ezra, you share with Nathan." Josiah stepped up with the pot to fill the cup Ezra still held. Even from several feet away, Ezra imagined he could see a vein in Chris' neck begin to throb, and his amusement was difficult to contain. Silently, he handed his cup Nathan's way.

"You all settled, now? You need anything else 'fore we get started?" Chris snapped. Yes, that looked like the more familiar Larabee temper.

"Sorry, brother," Josiah said, in a calming tone that had nothing to do with the truth.

"All right. We divide the local farms and homesteads from the south clockwise to the northeast. Three sections, teams of two." Buck made a sound suspiciously like a growl, though Ezra had to admit it was a normal human noise. Deep in tactical deliberations, Chris either didn't notice or didn't care. "I want all of you to check in on every resident you c'n get to, ask 'em if they've seen any people or anything unusual, and find out where the hell these boys are hiding out. Do not mention wolves, unless you can make it sound like gossip over Dan Clifford's bull. There's less than no chance they'll be where we left 'em, but Nathan, you to drop in on the Cliffords anyhow, feed 'em some story to keep 'em calm, and while you're out there, you can swing on out to Ira Steinberg's place. Ira 'n Ruth got enough kids and ranch hands, maybe somebody saw or heard something last night that'll help us."

Chris had excluded from his search pattern the ranches to the east on which Ezra would happily leave any pack to wreak what havoc they might.

Ezra nudged Nathan for the cup, sipping and holding his silence as Chris and Vin debated the most likely places for a pack of Two-Bloods to hide. Buck was noticeably silent. Vin took it upon himself to list the names of farmers and homesteaders in each area that they would cover. Ezra hardly needed to pay attention; he had learned to recognize names and faces and thus better ingratiate himself in his first thirty days in Four Corners. That Chris Larabee had lived here almost two years and still didn't know more than a tenth of the residents was a regular source of amusement; the adage about flies and honey was so obviously lost on the man.

"Mr. Watson's wife's as much a busybody as he is," Vin continued, "so whoever heads west wants ta be sure they talk to her fer a bit."

"I could go out that way," Buck said offhand. "She likes me."

"Mrs. Watson? She hates you, Buck!" JD derided. "She told Casey she thinks you're trying ta start your own harem out here."

Ezra relished the fact that JD so offhandedly accepted the intimacy of Chris and Buck's positions. He made a note to grill the boy tonight when the dark would likely make him spill all sorts of secrets.

"Well, that don't keep her from recognizing my charms," Buck retorted. "She likes me."

"You ain't leaving town, Buck," Chris said, his tone harsher this time.

Buck didn't want to fight, he truly didn't. Chris had always been Buck's natural leader, and now it was official, and Buck really didn't want to fight. This was all too new, and they fought too well. He dropped his nose into the hair at the base of Chris' skull, nudging against the stiff starched collar. "I gotta go with ya, Chris," he whispered.

"What's going on?" JD asked.

Buck squeezed his eyes shut and just breathed in Chris' smell. Ezra's scents were thick on him: cologne, spit, sweat. Sex smell, wafting up from further down. Good smell. Such a good smell; they'd been real good to each other, and pleasured each other well. And now they were going to ride off to find and face Red Stone without him? "He wants me to stay in town, kid," Buck said, forcing his voice to stay quiet and smooth. "He thinks I'm in the way out there."

"Well," JD snickered, "You can't shoot and even if you could, you already lost your gun..."

Buck stiffened, scented the blossoming anger off Ezra and Vin, sharp-smelling like tree bark. "It's all right, boys," he whispered without lifting his head from the false security of Chris' neck. They were trying to protect him, and he appreciated it, but he needed protecting from JD like Chris needed protecting from Nathan. It felt good, though, that they were trying. "I'd be all right, Chris. Really I would."

Chris resisted the urge to lean his head forward and give Buck more access back there. The soft bristle of moustache, the warm breaths, they made him feel soft, made him want to give Buck whatever he wanted. He half-suspected that was the reason Buck did it. "You said that yesterday, and look what happened," he said, holding himself very still. "I could barely get your ass back on your horse in time to get you outta there, and they got too close to Ez for comfort, 'cause you said you were fine."

Buck tamped down his rising anger. "I said I was fine 'cause that's what you wanted to hear, Chris," he said wearily. Chris jerked, and Buck stiffened, startled, unprepared when Chris spun around and grabbed his jaw in a firm, almost harsh grip. Too many emotions on his face, in his scent, in his eyes, to know what was really going on in the mind of the man he had devoted himself to.

"You say what you think I want to hear, you say what gets you what you want," Chris said ruthlessly. "You need to start telling me what I need to hear, Buck. You need to start telling me the truth." Abruptly the touch changed, softened. Chris' fingers slipped from his jaw down to his throat, rubbing gently, thumb just brushing the corner of his mouth. "You ain't going, Buck. You can't. They were coming right at us yesterday, and I barely got you out of the way in time." There was a tiny pause, and Chris' eyes seared straight into his soul. "You think I could stand losing any more family?"

Buck felt his muscles seize up like he'd been punched in the gut. Chris' breath zephyred across his nose and mouth, that subtle, perceptible signal of life making his lips tingle. Chris' hips brushed the insides of his thighs, hot and hard. Their groins were an inch apart. Every tiny detail imprinted itself on him, and he wondered how many more times he could tolerate wondering if this could be the last time, the last touch. Half sitting as he was, the green of Chris' eyes glared an inch above his own, staring, daring him to deny anything, and Buck felt his shoulders slump in defeat.

It was harder now, to disregard what Chris wanted him to do. But it was going to be so much harder, letting him go out there alone.

Behind Chris, Vin cleared his throat. "Buck?" Vin asked, voice calm and even, "you ain't up to shooting, are ya?"

"We're just gonna be talking ta people," Buck said, trying one last time to make someone understand. He couldn't just be useless.

Vin pushed off the pillar and shouldered up next to Chris. "But you ain't up to shootin'?"

"Hell no, I ain't!" he snapped, frustrated. That didn't mean he wasn't up to riding, to talking, to watching over whichever of his pack mates needed him the most--JD, maybe, Chris maybe...

"Then let Chris take care a' ya. That's all he's trying ta do."

The kindness slid in smooth and easy, like the sharp tip of a knife, and Buck deflated, automatically ducking his head in helpless surrender. "It ain't about that," he said, appealing to Vin's instinctive understanding of him, "I'm s'posed to protect y'all. If something happened and I wasn't there..."

"Ya can't right now," Vin pointed out, sounding almost apologetic, "no more'n John Doe would be able to fight for his own. He'd let one of his pack do his fighting for him, and I know it's harder fer you 'cause we ain't Two-Bloods, but you know we ain't helpless. Besides," Vin took a step closer, right beside Chris, and placed a warm, heavy hand on Buck's leg. "You ain't John, and you never were. You gave Chris that job, prob'ly years ago, and you made it all nice and formal like when you let him have you at his shack, after all of us. This ain't your decision to make."

Buck jerked physically, fighting the tension that stormed through him with every twitch, every painfully aborted effort to raise his hand and run his fingers through his hair. Chris might not understand what his instincts were pushing him to do, but maybe Vin would. "I can't just let y'all go out there alone while I sit here doing nothin'!" he tried again. "This ain't like us going up against some piss-ant like Bob Spikes and his gang. And it ain't like Two-Bloods against Two-Bloods. Them coming back, it's only because they decided they weren't gonna respect pack law, and when they came at us yesterday--hell, I can't say if they were after me, or Chris. If they snuck up on any one of ya, your throat'd be gone before you felt the teeth sinking in."

Vin watched the wildness in Buck, barely tempered by thirty-odd years of living among people, and actually felt sorry for him. "We ain't Two-Bloods neither, Buck, and I don't reckon any of us has respect for pack law either," he said softly, trying to ease understanding in as he would to a frightened animal. "Hell, nobody but you'n me actually knows all the rules in pack law. You c'n bet Chris or Ez ain't gonna think twice about picking 'em off long-range before they c'n even get close enough to be a bother. We know how to take care of ourselves. Even JD."

"Oh, thanks," JD griped.

Vin ignored him. "You're gonna have to let us do this."

Buck looked from the intensity of Chris' gaze to the calm and reassuring look Vin gave him. He didn't know how he'd get through the day, and he suspected large amounts of alcohol might be involved, but... "All right," he said, resolute. "All right, I'll stay."

Chris' hand slid down to his shoulder, squeezed gently. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to us out there."

"We'll be fine, Buck," Vin agreed, his primed body relaxing a little.

Buck looked past them to the others. Ezra, a sober, deadly look in his eyes, nodded. Josiah just looked on quietly. Nathan looked almost proud of him and JD, well; JD didn't know what the hell was going on. "It ain't right," he said, knowing it was futile.

"It's exactly right," Josiah intoned, his voice filled with certainty. "I can't say how a pack full of your kind would function, but I c'n tell you right now, ain't none of us is gonna let you fight all our battles for us. We wouldn't respect ourselves or each other, if we did." Josiah rose to his full height without taking a step from Ezra's side. "This is your first opportunity to do your part, and defer your nature for the good of this family."

Ezra had gleaned from early on that right alongside that morbid sense of humor and deadly aim, Josiah carried the wisdom of the ages. The combination had always stood the defrocked priest in good stead with Ezra, and today was no different. "I'll ride with Josiah," he volunteered. They hadn't really spent much time together, of late.

Chris was about to answer when Buck finally lost control. The bigger man stood up and used his mass to force Chris two paces backward, spun around, and started kicking the desk for all he was worth. "Damn it! Damn it!"

"Hey! That's my desk!" JD yelped. It did nothing to abate the storm. Four, five, six times Buck's boot connected with the heavy wooden legs before he stopped himself.

"If you done broke a bone in your foot," Nathan said placidly, "you're gon' be in real trouble, ain't ya."

"I was gonna put JD with you, Ez," Chris said as soon as the noise abated, ignoring the outburst completely. Odd, Ezra thought, how no one seemed particularly surprised.

"JD c'n ride with me," Vin offered. "Cain't ya, kid?"

"Yeah," JD said. "Maybe you and me c'n go west? I've been wanting to check in on Casey for a few days, but..." he ended lamely, and no one had to ask why he'd hesitated to visit his girl.

Chris saw himself fast losing control of the situation, and probably all future situations, as well. Damn it! "I'll ride with Nathan. We'll go out toward Ira's place. Josiah, you and Ez head north."

Another kick to the desk. "Damn it!"

"That's right, big fella," Chris ridiculed, "get it all outta your system."

Buck glared fiercely, and kicked the desk once more.

CHAPTER 20

There was a moment of indecision on the porch in front of the sheriff's office. The sun was up, the street was beginning to bustle with locals, and Jerry Waak sat on the edge of the board walk in front of Miss Maggie's hotel, chewing on a piece of sugar cane. Two doors past him, the window shades were up at the Clarion Newspaper office.

"You all go see if you c'n get Inez to rustle up some breakfast. Vin, tell Inez that Buck's staying in the saloon 'til we get back and apologize for the horse's ass he's gonna be," he said, ignoring Buck's muttered hrmph. "I'll go see Mrs. Travis."

Vin frowned. "She's gonna be trouble."

Chris rolled his eyes; Mary Travis was the least of their worries at the moment. "Anybody think of a man who can handle a gun, who you know well enough to call on? Have him stay around the saloon this mornin'?"

"Not many men around here're much good with guns," Buck said. "We done run the trouble makers outta town. Them that might be good, they got farms and families, and no interest in us."

"Miss Recillos can shoot," Ezra said mildly. Chris looked askance at him. The one time he'd heard of Inez Recillos holding a gun, Vin had said she barely knew how to point the thing. "I gave her lessons, after the unfortunate incident with that Paolo boy," he continued, "on the assumption that she might need to protect herself in the future. She is no fast draw, but then, she hardly needs to be; few would consider her a threat."

He didn't like it, but he didn't see they had much choice. He sent the others across the street to settle Buck in, and headed up to the newspaper office.

Mary Travis was perfectly dressed and perfectly coiffed, her blue gingham dress looking brand new, its ruffles and lace trim a stark, virginal white. How the woman managed to keep her clothes looking like they'd just come out of the bandbox in this town, much less in her profession, was beyond him. "Mr. Larabee," she greeted when he opened the door, setting a box of typesetting letters aside.

Mr. Larabee. She was in her most tenacious mode, then, for they had left surnames far behind them. "Mary."

"Thank you for stopping by. I had hoped to see you last night."

He stared, and waited, and kept his silence. It wasn't long before she gave in.

"I trust one of the others mentioned that I'd been looking for you."

"They mentioned it."

"Something is wrong. I think you should tell me what it is."

Straight to the point; he wondered if she was approaching her deadline. "What makes you say something's wrong, Mrs. Travis? It's been quiet around here, from where I sit."

Ticking items off on her fingers, she ran through an obviously compiled list. "Barely a week ago, thirteen people arrived in town. After which time Mr. Wilmington tried to kill the man who claimed to be his father. The strangers I spoke with said they were Buck's family, and seemed quite civilized, though they were hardly polite or ingratiating and it was obvious that they were not great lovers of life or property. The strangers disappeared and Mr. Wilmington returned to town, seriously injured, with all of you in escort. All of that, I was happy not to question.

"But I thought it was over. Since that night, all of you have been spending an inordinate amount of time together, and as far as I can tell, you aren't sleeping in the room you keep while you're in town, and Mr. Tanner is staying at the boarding house."

"What--" he drew in a deep, calming breath; displaying his temper would fuel her determination to find the truth. "You know I don't like people prying into my business, Mrs. Travis," he grated, "and you sound like you've been interrogating the chamber maids."

"Hardly," she said archly. "The blacksmith wondered to me if perhaps more of you weren't injured, as three or four of you have slept in Nathan's room since you returned to town. I first thought you were sitting vigil, and though both Mr. Tanner and Nathan assured me Mr. Wilmington was fine, I worried even more for him. I'd only seen him the once, after all, and he was asleep at the time."

"Buck. His name's Buck, and you've used it before," he snapped. His patience, never something to write home about, was wearing thin.

"I was quite worried about Buck, until I saw him after breakfast yesterday morning, looking in incredibly good spirits in spite of his injuries."

"What are you asking, Mary?" he broke in, not knowing what he'd say if she guessed right.

"I'm asking, Chris, which of you is in such great danger that you feel the need to protect him or them? And from where does that danger come? And is it something of a personal nature, or something that could hurt this town?"

He debated saying anything at all, and in the end, decided that half a truth might quiet her for a time. "Yes it's personal, and frankly we don't even know if they're still around. While I figure they might try to take out one of us, they aren't insane, and they wouldn't involve innocent bystanders." It was a lie and he knew it, but he could hardly tell her that a wolf attack was premeditated by Buck's kin who happened to be able to change into either and oh, by the way, so could Buck. He had many moments when he still didn't believe it, himself. "We're all doubling up, just to be sure, until we find out if they're really out there or if Buck's being paranoid." She would find out before long, at least about what they were now getting up to with each other. She was too smart and too observant not to, and he dreaded that day. He knew how she felt about working girls; he could imagine how she'd feel about this.

"Now I'm going to ask you as a friend, Mary, to leave this alone. You interfering might only bring trouble down on your own head, and no one wants that. Least of all me." He watched her face soften, and decided that she wasn't taking his concern in the wrong way. There had been a time when she had, a time when he might have wanted her to. That time was long past.

"All right. You'll tell me if I need to know something?"

"I'll tell ya." He tipped his hat and left her office quietly, maintaining a steady pace all the way to the saloon.

"What did she want?" JD asked before he had even sat down.

"Same thing she always wants, to know everything that goes on in this town." He took the empty seat to Buck's right.

Ezra spoke quietly. "And what did she get?"

"Ghosts from Buck's past, he's prob'ly being paranoid, we're keeping an eye out just to be sure, not to involve herself."

Ezra raised skeptical brows. "If you'll pardon my asking... Why does she always wait to talk to you?"

"Cause she thinks I'll tell her the truth." He looked around, searching for Inez, but no one was behind the bar, and no one else was in the saloon at this hour. "Anybody order me a drink?"

"Ordered ya breakfast," Buck said, and Chris wondered if he was being punished.

Ezra was still worrying it. "How, pray tell, have you convinced Mrs. Travis that she can trust you?"

Chris shrugged. "Because until now, I've always told her the truth."

"Brilliant," Ezra breathed faintly, after a stunned pause. "I'd never have thought of that." Chris just frowned. Ezra Standish was enough to make the devil blush, sometimes.

Inez popped out of the back at that moment, balancing three plates: tortillas--the woman never would learn to make biscuits--a heaping plate of eggs, and a cutting board loaded with bacon and ham. "Good morning, Señor Larabee. I'll bring your coffee in just a moment."

"Thanks, Inez." He looked pointedly at Buck, who glared sullenly back. With the mess they were all in, he deserved a whiskey, and he didn't care what time of day it was.

"Señorita," Ezra said politely.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Inez brought out plates and silverware and coffee, and everyone scooped off the serving dishes. Vin emptied the last of the eggs onto Buck's plate, adding two slabs of ham. Chris started eating when he noticed Buck, forkless, staring like he wanted to drill a hole through his skull. He took another bite, waited--and realized he would wait all day before Buck would ask him for anything. Sighing, he handed over his own fork and went to the kitchen to retrieve another.

Buck was just barely able to feed himself, and it was a disgusting sight to watch as he bent his head and chased the fork held carefully rigid in his right hand. No one offered to help him; the anger and frustration rolling off him was palpable, fed, Chris knew, by fear. Hell, he even understood it--it was why Buck was staying here in the first place.

"Don't that hurt?" JD asked after awhile, and Buck shuddered and eased his hand, still holding the fork, back to his side to let his bound arm rest in his lap.

"Like the devil," he admitted through tight lips.

"Nathan, you reckon he ought to be feeding himself yet?" Chris asked, pushing his knee against Buck's under the table.

"He says he's ready," Nathan said with a speaking shake of his head. "I think he's just bein' a stubborn fool, and ought to wait few more days."

"You want me to feed ya?" Chris asked, putting his fork down. It was a peace offering, and Buck would know it.

"I want you to let me ride today, is what I want."

Chris stabbed a huge chunk of ham with his own fork and stuffed it into Buck's mouth. "You are the most stubborn pain in the ass I have ever met."

"Look ih'nah'mrror, s'mthime," Buck mumbled around his mouthful.

The swallowed smiles on the others' faces didn't improve Chris' mood.

Every three or four bites, he paused to shovel a mouthful for Buck, and by the time breakfast was over, Buck looked merely anxious. Not sullen, not angry, just anxious as hell, his eyes darting like a hummingbird's, rarely coming to rest on any one thing. It was a look Chris typically walked away from, but he understood it a little better now.

"We'll be back by late afternoon, Buck," Vin said, casting a concerned glance Chris' way. "Three or four at the latest. Won't we, boys?"

Chris watched the nods all around. "Buck?" he breathed, leaning forward to catch and hold his eyes. He laid his hand on Buck's thigh under the table, trying to satisfy one need, if not the other. "You can't fight. You go with me, I'm watchin' out for you and I can't fight either. Same with any of the others and you know it. We're safest without you right now. You tell me I'm wrong."

He watched Buck watch him, and knew the moment the man truly gave in. Buck had obeyed him plenty in the past without surrendering, and he knew the look; this look was different. Chris felt a near-crushing obligation, an understanding that when he needed Buck to, Buck would trust him implicitly, obey him instinctively, even when he was wrong. It was a heady and terrifying responsibility, one he realized he'd had with this man before, and destroyed.

Buck seemed to crumple in on himself, shoulders rounding, head lowering as he curled forward in the chair. Staring at his plate he grated, "Y'all be damned careful out there. Shoot first, run, and ask questions later. And JD, you remember what you promised me."

"I remember, Buck," JD said soberly.

Relieved, Chris squeezed Buck's leg. "All right. Vin, you talk to Inez 'bout Buck staying here?"

"Ez thought it was best to wait until you got here."

"Then let's go. Y'all finish up here, and meet us at the livery."

When he rose, Buck looked up at him, blue eyes wide and dark, cataloguing every detail like he was saving up the memory, and Chris didn't have to tell himself how stupid it was, how dangerous, how wrong--he just bent and pressed his mouth to Buck's as a fire swept him. He couldn't call it passion, because in that moment he wanted nothing more than to hold Buck close and keep him safe. He refused to give it a name.

He pulled away even as Nathan gasped, Vin coughed, Ezra hissed. No one had to tell him it was stupid. "C'mon, Ezra."

JD stared at Chris' retreating back, dumbfounded. It was hard to draw a breath, like he'd been kicked by a mule, and he felt his jaw working, mouth opening and closing like a fish. The sound of Chris' spurs echoed loud in the room, and JD cast a panicked glance up, over, left: someone could have come out of an upstairs room, or strolled by on the street or walked in from the back... The instant, the very instant Chris led Ezra through the doorway into the back hall, he looked at each of his fellow regulators in turn.

Spearing Vin with his eyes and still resenting, at least a little, the whack on his head, he asserted, "Now I know that wasn't all right!"

From the hall, Ezra heard JD's sibilant hiss, and couldn't agree more. His pounding heart was only just beginning to slow as he reached the kitchen door in the back. Chris Larabee had ridiculously poor impulse control, and that was all there was to it.

Inez stood at the butcher block, mixing corn meal with melted lard and water. A pile of dried cornhusks filled a basket beside the back door; that could only mean one thing. She looked up as they entered, and smiled brightly.

"Thank you for the lovely breakfast," Ezra said, before Inez strode up to Chris and demanded, hands on hips in quite a feminine and lovely way,

"Señor Chris, how did you get Señor Standish out of his bed so early? That is a mystery to me that I have thought on for over an hour."

"I just shoved him out of it," Chris said, deadpan and quite believably.

Ezra cast a not-quite-glare Chris' way. "Our Mr. Larabee believes in Poor Richard's early to rise adage, and unfortunately he believes it necessary to extend that discourtesy to those in whose rooms he is a guest." He took Inez' hand to get her full attention. "But I am afraid we have more pressing business, and I must ask a favor of you that may prove arduous. We must venture out and inquire of our neighbors for a time, and Buck is in no condition to join us. We hoped he might remain here, and that you would be so kind as to... look after him?"

"I understand, señores," she said soberly. "I saw poor Señor Wilmington trying to drink from his beer glass yesterday, and even I felt sorry for him. How that man thinks he can be of help to anyone when he is still hurt and helpless himself... he is hard to control even for you, no?"

Beside him, Chris tensed a bit. "Try 'impossible'," Chris said bluntly. "But there's more to it than just distracting him. Those people who were in town last week, Buck thinks they could cause more trouble. Ezra says you can shoot?"

She looked first surprised, then guilty. "Yes," she said in a small, clear voice. "It is not my way, but Señor Standish felt I would be safer, if ever Don Paolo's people came again."

Chris shrugged, and Ezra was quite proud of his egalitarianism. "It's the place of whoever's willing to hold the gun, and deal with the consequences of pulling the trigger. You think you can do that, if the need arises?"

Ezra flinched; Chris had never even hinted at a capacity for tact, but Inez bore up under it well. "I pray to God I will never have to, but--you all have helped me many times, and you know what Señor Buck did for me. Foolish though he can be, he saved my life and he gave me a future I thought I had lost forever. If someone tried to hurt him, I would pray for forgiveness. But I would shoot."

"Good girl," Chris approved.

"Inez, we thank you sincerely for your efforts. And if Buck is a problem at all today, well, you do whatever is necessary to keep him in line, do you understand?"

"Sí," she said, smiling. "But he will be good today; I will beg him if I have to." She grinned and tossed her hair, dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "He would be so pleased to see me beg, he would do as I wished, I think." Ezra had to smile at her sharp intellect and sharper wit.

"I daresay you're right, señorita," he said with a respectful nod. Inez always had been able to handle Buck, and pretty much every other man who entered this establishment.

She smiled at him, but turned her dark eyes to Chris for her next query. "If I may ask, have any of you reason to believe that those people have returned? As I told Señor Standish, I have kept open my eyes and ears, and no one has mentioned having seen any of the strangers back in town."

"We hope Buck's just jumpin' at shadows," Chris said evenly. "But he did rile 'em awful good. Don't you hesitate to shoot 'em on sight. We'll make sure things stay square with the judge." Chris looked his way, and Ezra just shrugged. There wasn't much else to say. "Well," Chris finished, "we'd best be off."

"Of course. Vaya con Dios, señores."

Josiah, waiting patiently with Buck, rose as they returned. Wisely, Ezra thought, Buck didn't turn to watch them go. On the boardwalk, obviously uncomfortable, Chris muttered, "You got Inez watching out for us?"

"She always watches, Chris," Ezra informed him. "I merely inquire about what she has seen." He waited for their leader to reach the obvious conclusion.

"She's gonna figure out things quick."

It was pointless to deny it. "She is very bright."

"So what the hell are we gonna do about it, is what I wanna know," Chris muttered darkly. "Mexican Catholic girls ain't gonna take kindly to a buncha maricóns running around here."

"Maricons?" Josiah asked.

"Men like Ezra," Chris replied, and after a brief hesitation, "and Buck. Maybe Vin, too. Probably Vin." Chris glanced left and right, a worried look shadowing his face. "Vin too," he finally muttered.

Ezra had neither time nor inclination to deal with Chris' minor worries about Spanish slurs and sexual indulgences. Of all the people in this town whose reprisal they might fear, Inez Recillos wasn't one of them. She had handled many a man in many stages of inebriation; she had seen and heard a great many things about the world. Besides, he knew the woman. Progressive, downright radical for an impecunious daughter of Spanish descent, she had run not only from the young don, but from the restrictions of home and family. In her he had recognized a kindred spirit, benignant, who was both passionate and discreet.

"I don't think she'll be a problem," Ezra demurred, keeping his thoughts from his face. He felt Chris' stare burn into him, and coolly resisted the urge to meet it.

CHAPTER 21

They got out of town without further fuss, though Ezra couldn't put his finger on the source of the silence that had grown as the six of them saddled up. Not even goodbyes had been voiced; they had merely nodded at each other. Chris and Nathan had swung up and Chris had spurred Pony to a canter, leaving Nathan to follow as Pony barreled between the church and the feed store and disappeared. Vin and JD trotted past the church then followed the road south, while Ezra and Josiah departed at a more sedate pace, their horses plodding up the street through the middle of town.

With the other four gone and Josiah's peaceful bulk beside him, with Maverick and Seeker as companionable as any two of the Seven's mounts, Ezra allowed himself to relax. While theirs, he was sure, was the longest and most populated route, he felt quite good about making his contribution to the search, and was confident that either he or Josiah would know at least one person in the surrounding small acreages and homes built for the more commerce-driven members of their fair community, plus the thirty-odd homesteads beyond. Though, how they were expected to meet and greet all those people in one day was another question entirely. Josiah seemed to know where he wanted to start, and Ezra was content to follow along.

At the moment, he was more concerned with the ache in his backside and how it translated its presence from the saddle.

He'd been able to ignore his body's message of lassitude and satisfaction when surrounded by the others, first because of the inevitable personal conflicts and then because of the rising tensions. Now, with the early sun over his left shoulder and the fresh wet smell of springtime in the air as they followed the road through scrub oak and young grass, Maverick's lazy walk gently rolled Ezra's hips along smooth saddle leather and sent the most amazing sensations through his pelvis. The awareness in his body of how it had been called to perform, the slow care of last night that still moved and amazed him, the aggression with which he had let Chris take him this morning that seemed so much more expected and familiar, had the most distracting effect on his lower regions.

"You keep squirming in that saddle, Ezra, you're gonna fall off your horse."

"I beg your pardon?" he said archly, embarrassed though determined not to admit it.

"I don't think you've had to beg for nothin', lately." Amusement colored the big man's voice, and Ezra took a moment to decide whether to be scandalized or accommodating.

Accommodation might be so much more engaging. "And you would be right." He stopped just short of a satisfied sigh.

"You're gonna want to work on that poker face of yours," Josiah said mildly, leaning back in his saddle.

"My poker face is in perfect working order." He grinned. "It is simply that I haven't the slightest desire to use it."

"Uh huh." Only the sound of horses' hooves and birds interrupted the dappled silence among the trees. Then, "So you and Chris are finally getting ta know each other."

'Of course' sounded too arrogant. 'He couldn't resist' seemed the slightest bit vain. Ezra darted a look Josiah's way, reading him easily; the big ex-preacher didn't seem offended, damned if Ezra could figure out why. "It doesn't bother you?"

"Can't say as I know how to answer that question just yet. But just so you know, I wasn't talking 'bout the bedding part."

Ezra felt his eyebrows climb, and wondered if perhaps he should be guarding his tells. "No?"

"No." Josiah shrugged. "I was just thinking, y'all two probably wouldn't be getting up to anything, if you weren't learning who the other one was. It's been a long time comin', I thought."

Ezra was deeply moved by the acknowledgment. He had always felt Chris didn't particularly like him, and had only come to know himself well enough in recent months to think he had cause to complain about it. That Josiah recognized the change in Chris, a change Ezra had hesitated to claim for himself... perversely, he had a lot for which to thank Buck's erstwhile family. "Well," Ezra allowed, letting an inch of leather slide through his fingers as he gave Maverick more freedom from the bit, "I do appreciate your sentiments, Josiah."

Josiah just nodded, and they settled again, each into his own thoughts. As they approached a fork in the road that would take them toward the Johnson and Mayer farms, Josiah began again to share his musings. "I've had a little time to think about it, and a little time to pray on it, and I guess y'all bedding each other don't much bother me."

Ezra hesitated, never glad to expose his occasional bouts of small-mindedness, then admitted, "I'm not sure I could say the same, were the shoe on the other foot."

"Or the gunslinger in the other bed?" Josiah chuckled. "Maybe everyone's where they're s'posed to be, then. I can't say I'm of a mind to welcome those sorts of relations with most of you boys just yet--" Ezra felt a shock run through him, that Josiah was even suggesting the possibility-- "but it's been nicer than I recollected, waking up next to a warm body, someone I know and trust."

"You and Nathan...?" he asked, more breath than voice.

Josiah laughed again, far more crudely. "Not everybody's gotta satisfy their baser urges, just 'cause they share a bed with someone. I just meant, comfortable. Familiar. You'd do well ta remember that, now that you've agreed to let JD share your room tonight."

It stung, that Josiah thought he wouldn't hold JD's best interests to heart. It stung, but Ezra couldn't say he hadn't expected it. No one, save perhaps Vin and Buck, truly knew him. He could get huffy--and deserved to do so--or he could change things. "Josiah, I had hoped you would understand. And since you don't, I must hope instead that you'll accept my word now: I have only the best of intentions with respect to our youngest family member. Indeed, with respect to all of you." He held Josiah's searching gaze, feeling his lip quirk when the older man nodded, satisfied with whatever he saw. "This gift we've been offered, it is a fragile thing," he ventured.

"Yeah. It sure is. But then, most truly precious things are. I just hope we're up to the task."

"Amen," Ezra replied sincerely, and cast him a warm look, enjoying the big man's company in a way that he hadn't since the week they first met. It was, however, well past time to lighten the mood. "I don't believe I've ever had cause to come down this road," he remarked.

"Just Rose and Skeeter Johnson, and Widow Mayer."

Skeeter Johnson, by Josiah's tale, was the grandson of one of the first settlers of this area, who shared a house with his elder sister and a few cousins. Like the family members, the house showed its age. Forty years older than Chris' shack and only slightly larger, its roof sagged and the windows were shuttered rather than glassed. "His granddaddy came not long after Nettie," Josiah said, educating as they approached the house.

"I don't believe I've met him," Ezra replied.

"Not many have; he don't like to come to town, and he don't believe in drink or gambling." Josiah chuckled. "Can't say you'd have had much opportunity to cross paths, under them circumstances."

"Very funny."

"Mmm hmm. You're an enigma, Ezra," Josiah announced casually. "You like to play at being a merciless conniver, as calculating as your mother, but you've taken to this new situation like a duck to water. Not just the intimacies, which I c'n understand a man like you would naturally hanker for." Ezra refused to let even his eyelids twitch; Chris Larabee obviously had a mouth on him that put Buck's gossipy ways to shame. "But the way you're protecting Buck, and taking care of JD and even Chris... no offense, but I can't say I expected that from you."

"Yes, well," Ezra replied, trying not to feel hurt by either the observation or wary of the exposure, "I'm sure it's just a phase."

"Didn't mean it like that, Ezra," Josiah replied mildly. "You call to mind the rich young ruler who Jesus told to sell everything, give it away, and follow Him. Well, this old boy just went away disheartened, 'cause he couldn't see givin' away his wealth just for the love of a man."

"And Jesus said, 'It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.' Yes, thank you for that too-kind parallel," Ezra said dryly.

"But Ezra, the kingdom of God is love, and here you are, skimming the drunks and the travelers but not committing no sins against the people of this town. And if you ain't got more love around you, and you ain't giving more love than you ever have before, well, my eyes surely are deceiving me."

"I assure you," Ezra defended sharply, "that I'll continue to seek my great wealth, and love be damned." He was being reactionary and he knew it, but he could not stomach how easily Josiah seemed to read him; he felt more naked than he had in bed with Chris. Josiah held the silence, neither challenging nor agreeing, and Ezra was left to stew in his own thoughts.

They arrived at the house before they could say much more, passing the somewhat weed-ridden garden and a ramshackle barn by which a few strong-looking mules were corralled. A young man, perhaps in his twenties, with dark eyes and a scraggly beard, idled on the porch, chewing the end of a hay stem and watching the morning go by. Three young children played in the back, chasing chickens and dogs. Josiah dismounted, so Ezra followed suit.

"Mornin', Skeeter," Josiah greeted with a nod.

From his place on the porch, the young Johnson looked them both up and down before offering a cautious, "Mornin', preacher. You come by looking fer Rose?"

"Yeah. I had some questions I wanted ta ask her."

"Well." The silence stretched long enough that Ezra had to resist the urge to prompt one of them. "She had ta go 'n help Millie Jenkins with a cow that's calving, but it ain't goin' so good."

"Uh huh."

"What wuz yer gonna ask her?" Again, those sharp eyes moved over them both, and Ezra felt a prickle of excitement. If this layabout sat and watched the world go by like this every day, he might have seen something.

"Last week," Ezra started in--might as well practice the speech-- "some unsavory persons visited our fair township, and caused no little trouble for Buck Wilmington." Johnson's dark eyes twitched at Buck's name, and a slow smile spread across the lineless face. Surely there were people in this area, husbands and mothers of lovely young daughters at least, who didn't take to the man? "We have reason to believe that they may be back in the area, and are wondering if you have seen anyone unknown to you."

Johnson looked from Ezra to Josiah. "Eh?"

"He wants to know if you've run across any strangers, the last couple days," Josiah elucidated. He sounded bored, and Ezra cast him a confused frown. This was what they were up at this ungodly hour for, wasn't it?

Johnson stared up at the sky for a moment, thinking hard it appeared, and Ezra began to wonder if the young man was all there. "Nope," he said then, "no strangers. No nobody, 'cept Rose. Rose said Millie come by yesterday, and caught her up on the local news the same time she asked fer help with that cow. Was real sorry about that Clifford bull," he added thoughtfully. "Don't have much use for darkies, but them Cliffords, Rose says they's decent enough."

Ezra felt his nerves prickle at the mention of the enemy. "You heard about the wolf attack?" he asked, exercising his skill to keep his voice casual and even.

"Well, thank you kindly, Skeeter," Josiah said, tugging his reins and beginning to turn Seeker back toward the road. "If you'd tell Rose we stopped by?"

"Didn't just hear about 'em," he answered Ezra. "Saw'em. Well, prob'ly the same ones."

Ezra froze, thrilled that it should be so easy, and that they would be the ones to unearth the villains. "Yes?"

"Yeah. Bunch of 'em, howlin' and prowlin' around behind the barn last night, stirred up one hell--sorry, preacher--of a ruckus. I thought they was goin' fer the mules er the chickens er somethin', but they just circled 'round in the yard. Laid 'emselves right down, happy as you please."

Ezra opened his mouth to launch an excited inquisition, when Josiah's firm grip on his forearm stopped him cold. "Thank you, Skeeter," Josiah said. "Thank you kindly. That's a real good help to us. You'll tell Rose we stopped by?"

"I surely will. Hope y'all take care a' them bad folks. And you give old Buck a howdy from me. Ain't seen him in a month a' Sundays."

"I'll do that." Josiah turned Seeker in such a way that Ezra had no choice but to give ground; irate, he tugged on Maverick's reins and followed the other man away from the house.

"Would you mind explaining to me why we aren't investigating further?" he hissed. "Perhaps the children saw something, or this Rose."

Josiah frowned at him. "You don't know about Skeeter?"

"I can hardly be expected to be on speaking terms with every resident in the territory. But that is no reason to walk away from an eye-witness to the very people we're hunting!"

"There weren't no wolves there, Ezra. You go back and tell him a different story--tell him somebody's house got flooded out, he'll tell you how their barn got flooded out yesterday, too."

"Excuse me?"

"Millie Jenkins is a feller Miss Rose slips off to see three days out of five, and every single time it's because some cow's suffering a bad birth. Her feller must have heard about the wolves at the Clifford place, and she just passed it along. Skeeter Johnson's crazy as a loon, Ezra."

Ezra felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck and over his cheeks. There were few feelings he hated as much as embarrassment or humiliation, having received equal doses of each over his years with his mother. He felt like a blithering idiot. "I just carried on a conversation with an insane man."

"Yep."

How mortifying. "You might have told me that before I made a complete fool of myself," he said stiffly.

"And miss that show?" Josiah's big teeth flashed in the sunlight.

Ezra clamped his mouth shut on a hot retort that Josiah would doubtless enjoy too much. The grizzled, polytheistic bastard would pay for that.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

JD was beginning to get cold feet. He hadn't seen Casey in a week; Buck had told her and Nettie to get back to their homestead and stay there, when John Doe and his people had come to town. Much to JD's ire at the time, Casey had obeyed Buck without question. She was never so agreeable with him.

Everything had changed since the last time he had seen her. He'd found out what Buck was. He had stared at a blank bit of paper feeling sweat bead on his brow, wondering how he would tell her, what he could tell her to explain what he was about to promise to someone else. He had marked an "x" anyway. Then everything else had happened.

He wanted to see her, wanted to hold her and think about what he'd learned when Buck had come to his bed. Not talk about it--he'd die of embarrassment if he ever had to talk about that, especially to Casey--but just think about it, and about how he figured many things that had happened with Buck would translate pretty easily to being with her one day. But thinking about that really did mean thinking about lying with Buck, and that lead him to thinking about the fact that he had just a little bit ago invited himself into Ezra's bed. Ezra, the one whom Chris had sent him to because Ezra actually preferred that sort of thing, and he'd just invited himself--

"What's the matter with ya?" Vin asked, jerking him out of the downward spiral his thoughts were taking.

"Nothing."

"Nothin'?" Vin asked, disbelieving. "Ya look like you seen a ghost, JD."

"I just..." he swallowed. Ezra wouldn't do anything. Ezra had promised to make sure nobody else did anything. "I just..." he tried again.

"Casey ain't gonna know what you got up to," Vin said mildly, and JD stiffened in shock.

"How did you know I was thinking about that?"

"Seems like something I'd worry about, if'n I was your age and ridin' out ta visit my sweetheart."

JD didn't want to talk about it. But he didn't want to see Casey, either. He did, he did powerfully, but he didn't. Maybe she wouldn't be home. "Can we stop by some other places, first?" he asked carefully. He needed to work his nerve up.

"Sure, kid. We c'n swing around past their place and come back that way on the ride back inta town."

He looked over, saw the kindness in Vin's eyes, and tightened his jaw, trying to get himself under control. He was the only one of them who was acting like a kid. Embarrassed, he ducked his head a little. "Thanks, Vin."

"Ain't no problem, JD."

They rode along a piece, and were nearly at the first of the big homesteads out this direction before an entirely different thought struck him that sent a chill of panic straight through his chest. He reined in Dancer. "We left Buck all alone," he breathed, urgent.

"Huh?"

"Yesterday, Chris didn't want the town left unprotected 'cause them Two-Bloods coulda just waltzed in; that's why he sent us back. But today we left the town andBuck, and Buck can't even hold a gun. What the hell was Chris thinkin'?!"

Vin, surprisingly, laughed. "He wasn't. Well," he amended, "he was just thinkin' how much he wants ta get rid a' them Two-Bloods."

"Well we gotta go back! Buck can't take care of himself, and I don't care how good a shot Inez is, she ain't as good as us and what if they just walked right into the saloon like John did that first time--"

"Relax, kid," Vin interrupted, completely unconcerned. "Chris ain't gonna leave him for long."

"Huh?"

Vin's grin broadened, and he eyed JD like he was sharing some sly secret. "If Buck hadn't argued with him, Chris prob'ly wouldn't've got the saddle onto Pony. As it is, I'm betting he don't get to the Clifford place a'fore he thinks exactly what you just did, and high-tails it back ta town."

"You think?" JD asked doubtfully. He couldn't imagine Chris Larabee high-tailing it anywhere for anyone, especially not after the quarrel those two had pretended not to have this morning.

Vin sobered a little, and nodded. "I know. If I weren't sure, you and me woulda let the others ride out then just strolled right back to the saloon ourselves."

JD was finding himself more out of his depth every moment. This was all so new, and too convoluted. Hell, it was just plain baffling, all of it. "You can't know that, Vin! We gotta go back."

"I do know that," Vin said placidly. JD watched as Vin bit at his lower lip, chewing over some thought or other in his mind, before he said, "Buck and Chris, they've both got them a world of old hurts to get over, but them hurts, they don't never get in the way when the chips are down. That's why Buck always follows Chris even when he's mad at him. That's why Chris is so damned hard on Buck, 'cause he don't like feeling what he does. And maybe," Vin said more slowly, "Maybe Buck deserves some of what Chris dishes out, 'cause he never did tell Chris nothin' 'bout who he was, and that's an awful big secret to keep from someone you love like Buck loves Chris."

JD colored at Vin's casual use of the 'L' word. He wasn't that ignorant, he knew that Buck cared for Chris. JD had just always assumed that Buck loved Chris like an older brother, the way JD loved Buck but with a whole heap of thorns Buck wouldn't talk about stuck in there between them. That wasn't what Vin meant at all.

Vin shrugged, riveting JD's attention once more. "Now old Chris, he wanted ta keep Buck in town 'cause he was so scared for him, so scared of losing someone else he loves like he loves Buck. He won't get a mile 'fore he realizes what he done, and turns back. Just like he didn't wanna stay but couldn't keep away that first day we was all back in town, after Buck and John had their showdown."

JD still felt the panic in his blood, and his heart still beat heavily in his chest. "You're sure? Like, absolutely sure?" he asked doubtfully. If Chris did come back, and found JD and Vin there too, he'd be mad as hell. But if he didn't, Buck would be alone.

"I'm positive. Now, tell me why you're 'fraid a' seein' Casey."

"I didn't say I was afraid of seeing her..."

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

It was about half an hour to the Clifford homestead at a brisk trot, and Chris had to resist pushing Pony faster. The horse was panting a bit when they reached the wagon ruts that led up to the Cliffords' door. When Nathan caught up, the black man cast him a disapproving glare. "You see a fire somewhere back there?" he complained.

Chris didn't have time for that. He felt... anxious, and angry, and furious for feeling any of those things. The only time he'd ever felt like this was when Sarah had been in labor, fifteen or sixteen hours in, and she was hurting and Buck was white-faced with tension, and there'd been nothing he could do. "Go talk to 'em, Nathan. Avenelle's gonna be sittin' out with that baby, and I ain't in a mood to deal with nobody's squalling kids."

Nathan felt a twitch of sympathy, and not a little worry. Chris wasn't acting himself, not at all, and he was worse now than when they'd left town. Usually, Chris didn't have much to do with people's children, but he wasn't one to avoid them, either. Nathan stared hard, wondering not for the first time how Chris had ever come to like Billy Travis. That boy was about the only child Chris ever really related to, but this avoiding a little baby, that didn't make no sense. "Daniel's prob'ly plowing. They got them four plowshares, you know; they's good growers."

Chris' jaw hardened, and Nathan watched tendons pop out beneath the skin. "Just go talk to 'em."

Nathan shook his head and clicked his teeth to get Quinn walking. Chris paced Pony back and forth a hundred feet from the house, never once moving an inch closer. He looked like some Biblical sentinel, watching over the land or somesuch. Fanciful thoughts, and nerve-wracking; Nathan shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and went to talk to Avanelle. No sense distracting Daniel when he had that bull to try and make up for with this year's planting.

He told her Buck had lost his gun, then proceeded delicately to ask after her family's safety and any strangers they may have seen. The wolves had not returned, as far as she knew.

"And I ain't seen no people, neither," she said. "No strangers, leastwise. You know Caroline, she got a new suitor? He come round yesterday after y'all left, wiv flowers 'n all cleaned up. Mister Jay Blackburn's boy." The baby cooed and gurgled, held with absent experience in the crook of her arm, and Nathan made an interested sound. "He's too young fer my Caroline, but she's done decided she knows what's best, so I ain't gon' say nothin'."

Avanelle Clifford had the air about her that suggested she had said plenty, but Caroline was as stubborn as a mule, and Nathan thought Jacob and his wife Ester had raised good boys. The Blackburn family had grown up in Missouri as free blacks, and had cleared out with the Compromise. Jacob himself was a careful, well-spoken Christian man, and he and Ester had raised their boys up proper.

"I expect if she wants him, she's gonna git him. Anyways, Luke, he a fine young man."

Avanelle harrumphed. "I wish it wuz Luke! It's Joshua! Fifteen year old boy," she groused, "and her nineteen, and she got eyes for him, oh lordy! I cain't believe how fast she got out a' that field and cleaned herself up, when she seen him walkin' up the road."

Nathan chuckled, secretly relieved. Caroline was the eldest child, and the one Buck would have been most likely to be sniffing around. If she had herself a beau, that was one less Clifford woman to worry about. "Well ma'am, maybe Miz Caroline she know a thang or two. If she git him now, she can train him up to be a real good husband."

"Well, I wuz startin' to worry that maybe she didn't want no man at'all, so you may jes' be right, Mistah Jackson." Both she and Daniel had stopped calling him "Nathan" during her labor. He thought it was because he had seen Avanelle's lower parts, and it wouldn't have bothered him if she hadn't so easily called Buck by his first name.

"Nathan!" He jerked his head around at Chris' shout.

"He all right?" she asked doubtfully, looking past him to where Chris paced and Pony tossed his head.

"Woke up wrong, I guess. Sometimes, he ain't in the best of moods in the morning."

"Well, I'd best be lettin' y'all git on your way, then. I'm right pleased y'all are bein' so kind as ta see ta me an' my family, Mistah Jackson," she said.

Nathan mendaciously accepted her gratitude. "I'll let Chris know you 'preciate it."

He mounted back up and promised to retrieve some pies from her next week, then trotted out to Chris, who reined in with an angry glint in his eyes. "Nothing," he said with a shrug. "The wolves ain't come back, and nobody's seen nobody. She said her girls'd definitely have gossiped if they'd seen any strangers, and they ain't said a word. I told her to have the kids keep a careful eye out for Buck's gun, that he dropped it somehow up along the creek."

"What the hell did you tell her that for?" Chris growled.

"Ain't no reason not to let her know," Nathan defended. "We don't want any of them kids stumbling over it and tryin' to play with it or somethin'. This a way, she'll tell 'em 'fore they have a chance to find it and get into any mischief."

Chris said tightly, "All right. Fine."

Nathan wanted to ask, but he learned more about Chris Larabee's temper every day, and the man looked on the edge of exploding. So he changed the subject. "You wanna stop at the smaller places first, or go straight out to Mr. Steinberg's?" Chris looked at him, the glare becoming more pronounced, the anger radiating off him like heat off a tin roof, and Nathan had to use his will to keep from cowering. He hadn't done anything wrong. "Well?"

Chris cursed under his breath, then growled, "We're going back to town."

CHAPTER 22

Buck would have bitten his nails if it didn't hurt to raise his hands as far as his mouth. He'd have hit on something--again, if his body was actually of any use to him. He paced instead, walking to the saloon window and staring out; he caught sight of Vin and JD, riding companionably up the street, and prayed Vin would be quick enough, alert enough, smart enough to sense Two-Bloods coming, and keep JD out of harm's way. He went back to his chair and sat for about thirty seconds. Back to the window, he watched shop owners sweep their porches and pass brief bits of gossip with their good-mornings. He thought about maybe going across the street to the restaurant and flattering Eugenia Tipper. But no, she'd be busy by now, and getting busier until she and her kids had finished cooking for lunch and dinner, and especially busted up like he was he'd just be underfoot. He sat again, tried and failed to lay out cards for a game of solitaire.

He heard Inez Recillo's near-silent footfalls--just the barest drag of leather soles brushing against the wood--and knew she was staring at him from the door, but he couldn't be bothered to talk to her. Sighing, anxious, he got up and moved back to the window.

Inez watched her rangy, occasionally self-appointed protector, thinking as she often did that if only he would protect her from himself as well, her life here would be peaceful indeed. No, that wasn't fair. He was a kind man, gentle with women and children even if sinfully single-minded, and his games with her had been nothing more than games for a very long time. He was so obviously frightened that she couldn't help but be nervous on his behalf; she wouldn't let anyone harm the injured man, nor would she disappoint Señor Standish and the others. Moving quietly, becoming a little frightened herself, she glided behind the bar and checked the short-barrelled shotgun Ezra had put there, and the big army pistol. The smaller gun, that held only three bullets, she removed from its cigar box and slid into her pocket.

"I don't think there's anything to worry about, not around me," Buck said quietly, and she looked up to find his eyes on her. He looked far too somber, and far too sad.

"But Señor Standish and Mister Larabee, they said..."

Buck smiled and shook his head. "Inez, you ever make your daddy mad? Real mad, fighting mad?" She shook her head slowly. She had never done this thing, though more than one of her brothers had. Men. "Well, John, that bastard sire of mine, I been mad at him my whole life, and he got mad enough at me," Buck rolled his right shoulder forward an inch, calling her eyes to it, "he's the one that done all of this to me."

She gasped in shock; never had she thought his wounds a result of a battle between a father and his son.

Buck chuckled, and his eyes crinkled ruefully. "Don't go gettin' yourself in a tizzy. He was a lot worse off than me when the dust settled."

Inez frowned, feeling something dark trying to light in her breast. "That is nothing to be proud of, Buck."

"Maybe, maybe not. You don't know all the facts." He walked back to the table and dropped heavily into a chair. "Point is, whatever went on before, it's settled now. Him and me, we're done with each other. If any of my family came back, it'd be ta hurt Chris or JD or somebody else in my..." he hesitated, and she cocked an eyebrow expectantly. "Um, feels right stupid to say it out loud, but these boys here--Chris and JD and Vin, Ezra, Josiah, Nathan--they're my family now." He ducked his head and abortively reached with his right hand to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture she had seen many times before. It ended in a hiss and a muted curse. He glanced toward the window again. "Don't that sound stupid? And they're out there by themselves..."

"No estupido," she whispered, compassion rising in her as it rarely did for this handsome scoundrel. She knew more than most about Señor Wilmington, she supposed; he spent much time with the saloon girls, and they spoke to her often about all sorts of things. Not one had had a callous word for his manner or even his prowess, and several looked on him with brotherly indulgence. He had saved her from her future, and she herself had found new family in this town. "Not stupid at all."

His head tilted like a boy's, and she thought she saw his eyes brighten before he ducked his head back down. He was such a decent man when called to be, and her heart went out to him; if only he weren't so determinedly childish, so reckless, and roguish and--she laughed at herself. If only he were another man entirely, she could become too fond of him. "Are you going to sulk all day, or would you like some entertainment and company?"

He looked at her again, under better control, and made a lazy attempt to leer. "What did you have in mind?"

"You are incorrigible, do you know that word?" she retorted, controlling her temper. He couldn't help it.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I believe a few other ladies may have called me that over the years."

He was, but today she would not fault him for it. "I will get you something to read, and then I will send Enrique to see if anyone would like to visit. How would that be?"

Buck nodded respectfully, and when he spoke his voice was rich with gratitude. "That'd be just fine, Miss Inez. Much obliged."

Inez darted out the back to send Enrique on his errand, then went to her small cuarto and leafed through her things. In truth, she had little to offer him but ladies' magazines and--oh, yes. The book Ezra had bought her was a secret gift; she had never known things like this were written. Shipped all the way from England, its drawing of a handsome, rugged man, his dark-haired, amply beautiful woman in his arms, their clothes tattered and a forest behind them, told the entire story of adventure and desire. She had blushed terribly the first time she had read it. Yes, Buck would like this if only to tease her, and his teasing later would be worth his distraction now. She grabbed up her Bible and some ladies' magazines, sandwiching the real gift in between them, and sauntered out into the saloon.

She dropped the books on the table, the Bible on top. "Let's see, what would you like?"

"Um, I ain't much for Bible stories," he admitted, as if that would be a surprise to her. She hid her smile.

Setting her Bible aside, she nudged the ladies' magazines. "What about these? Learn what women like these days?"

"I think I know what women like most days," he replied, his tone somewhere between surly and seductive.

"Well," she sighed theatrically. "The only other book I have is this one, and I am afraid it too is a woman's-type story."

His eyes latched on to the cover. He reached out, winced, but plucked it from her hand. Sitting up straight in his chair, Buck read the little paragraph on its back cover aloud. "'Amanda'--Amanda, huh?" he commented, looking up, "good name for a woman who looks like that--'trapped in the rough and desperate American landscape, can be saved only by her love for...?' Inez," he said in awe, "I think we just struck gold, here, darlin'." He opened the book in the middle and started skimming the pages, and she returned to the bar to siphon together half-empty liquor bottles and replenish the stock. Buck was chuckling even before he started reading aloud, his voice carrying like a priest's in the empty room.

"'The river was fast and refreshing, after so much running along dusty, dank trails. Jason stepped from the water and began to unlace his buckskin trousers. Amanda gasped. He would not bare himself, right in front of her? And if he did--' you know, that river'd be less'n forty degrees, Inez. Colorado in the spring, all that water's snow melt. 'Stop! She cried, twisting her body away. His skin was smooth and dark, the muscles of his buttock and thigh rippling beneath the taut hide--' If he just stepped outta forty degree water," Buck asided, "he ain't got nothin' ta show her anyway."

Behind the bar, Inez sighed quietly and let the comment pass. She also decided not to tell him that his facts were diluting her fiction like water in good whiskey. Buck looked up from the book and stared at her, his face taking on that speculative look that so often made her uncomfortable, like he was imagining her naked--and far too accurately for her modesty. It didn't often bother her, because they were so rarely alone, and when they were he was always almost a gentleman. She dropped the cloth on a table and planted her hands on her hips. "Please don't do that, Señor Buck."

His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Do what?"

"Look at me like that." She frowned, embarrassed, but said it anyway. "Like you are thinking of me naked."

"Inez," he said with utter sincerity, "You are too beautiful a woman to ever imagine naked; I wouldn't be able to put three words together if I did that." His eyes returned to the book, and Inez returned to her cleaning, flustered.

Then what in the name of all the Saints did he think when he stared so? "Really?" she asked, suspicion warring with her desire to trust him.

Absently, his attention more on the novel than on their conversation, Buck answered, "Ain't polite to look at a woman naked unless she wants to show herself to me. 'Sides, ain't no mystery in what's under a woman's dress. The mystery's in how she feels, what she thinks, what she's gonna like me ta--"

"Enough!" she interrupted, blushing furiously.

Buck jerked at her tone and looked up, then realized what he'd said and ducked his head, offeringa  boyish grin. "Sorry, señorita. I wasn't thinking." He cleared his throat. "Or maybe this book's got me thinking too much... where'd a gal like you run across a story like this?"

Ezra had told her that many unimaginable delights could be found in the big cities of the east. She shrugged and tried to look worldly, and was saved from a reply by Katie Tipper sidling through the saloon's batwing doors.

"Mornin', Miss Inez," she said, stopping just inside and holding a basket. "Buck."

"Hey Katie! You look purtier every day, little girl. C'mon over here and catch old Buck up on all the happenin's in this here town." He used his foot to push out a chair, and stood like a gentleman as she approached the table.

"Mama told me I shouldn't stay long, on account of it's the saloon and all," she said nervously, looking around the place as if she might find snakes on the floor and cutthroats in every corner.

"There's nothing wrong with a saloon, long as you know how to handle yourself. Look at Miss Inez over there, beautiful woman like her and when she says 'jump' all the boys just ask how high!" Buck winked at her, and nudged the book into his lap and out of sight.

Enrique had done well. Not ten minutes passed before Gloria Potter joined young Katie and together they doted over their injured regulator. Katie wanted to feed Buck the biscuits and jelly her mama had sent over, and Mrs. Potter, proper woman and devoted mother, slapped the girl's hand for her and informed her in no uncertain terms that nice girls should never offer to hand-feed a man unless he was sick with delirium or her husband.

"Don't you know what you're inviting, young lady, when you ask a man if he wants you to do something like that?" she reprimanded sternly. As she sat next to Buck, absently patting his forearm while she said it, Inez couldn't help but laugh. The widow mothered any of the Seven who would let her, for as she told it, they had been the only people decent enough to bring her husband's killers to justice. Vin, Nathan, Josiah and Buck let her cluck at them in a way that Chris, Ezra and JD would not.

Buck glanced over when he heard Inez' poorly stifled laughter, feeling unaccountably grateful. While he knew Inez was looking out for him because she liked Ezra so much, that didn't lessen the fact that she took time from her morning and her work to try and make him feel a little better. He'd have to see where he could find more of these racy books, and start buying them for her.

The sharp stench of printer's ink hit his nose a few seconds before Mary Travis passed the window; Buck looked up, always liking her form with the sun behind it, and smiled in welcome as she pushed through the doors. "Well," she said," it appears you may have enough company already."

"Never enough, Mrs. Travis," Buck said respectfully. The acrid smells of her trade aside, she tried to be a good woman, and most of the time she succeeded. And she had stood up for Chris and the rest of the boys plenty of times, against the more lily-livered men in this town. "Come on in and set a spell. Miss Inez?" he turned his head. "Could I trouble you ta fetch us a pot of coffee here?"

"No trouble, señor Buck, I have some on the stove."

"I can't stay long," Gloria said.

"I ought to get back to work," Kate said.

"The ink's drying, and I can't leave the spreads unattended for long," Mary said.

"One cup of coffee, then, and I'll chase y'all out of here myself. It was real good of you to stop in. What haven't I heard about everyone's goings-on, lately?" he asked, to start them talking.

"What have you heard?" Mary asked.

Buck shrugged. "Not much, really. Been real distracted."

"Oh, yes. And have things worked themselves out?"

"I reckon they will," Buck answered, repressing a sigh. The woman never could stop fishing. "Just me needing ta get better and everybody else already tired of hearing me gripe." He waited, trusting Gloria or Kate to fill the silence he left for them.

"You know about Mr. Clifford's problem with the wolves," Gloria ventured.

"Uh, yes'm," he answered, resisting the urge to growl in frustration.

"Just terrible," she said. "They're colored and all, but they're right decent folk. Always pay their bills on time."

Buck resisted the urge to grin at her bigotry. The woman knew now better, and didn't have an ill-intentioned bone in her body.

"Well, let me see, Mrs. Donaldson locked George out of the house again, night before last, did you hear about that?" she continued. Buck shook his head 'no,' and the hen party was on. Sue Donaldson was lucky it was her and not her sister who had married George; Sue didn't take shit from any man, and George had himself a temper that she was fast bringing under control. Those two loved each other as much as they butted heads. If they made it another year or two, he thought they might have themselves a good marriage.

Inez brought coffee, and Mary poured for all but Buck, who had decided that holding the cup and the resultant need to piss wasn't worth the bother. Buck reflected, listening to the beautiful music of three female voices chattering in harmony, that there ought to be saloons for ladies, some place besides a church foyer for them to gather without working, and do as these ladies did now. It struck him at odd moments, how much he missed the childhood pleasure of living around a whole heap of women.

"So Martha rode in on horseback!" Katie picked up the thread of the fifth or sixth story, of Bill Johnson's ongoing feud with his brother-in-law. "She was so mad, I thought she was gonna take a horsewhip to both of 'em, but when she saw Steven's face she just burst into tears, and..." he lost track of what she was saying as the strong smell of familiar horse hit his nostrils. He twitched, gooseflesh rising on his arms: Chris was riding in.

Scenting him was such a relief he had trouble pretending he hadn't, and concentrated hard on not turning his eyes to the windows. He didn't want to make the ladies think anything they shouldn't, and Mary, she could track down a secret almost better than Vin could track down an outlaw.  So he kept his calm, drawing in the air through his nose and picking out the hot, toasted walnut smell of Nathan's black skin. They were just outside now. Buck waited until he heard the clunk of boot heels and the jangle of spurs on the boardwalk outside, before he glanced casually toward the doors, feeling a smile stretch his face.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris shoved the batwing doors so hard the double-hinges screeched in protest and the wood tapped the doorframe, and froze two steps inside the saloon: Buck sat in a chair, a big dumb smile spread across his face, with a gaggle of women surrounding him. Why the hell had he worried, even for a second? Buck could always be counted on to find a woman, or women, or distractions galore. Chris had cantered back in a near-panic, silently cursing Nathan for refusing to push Quinn to his limit to get them back to Four Corners a potentially life-saving five minutes faster, and had barely resisted leaving the black man alone to the threat of attack. Pony stood tied to the hitching post just outside, nostrils flaring, sides moving like a bellows, paying for Chris' nightmare imaginings of Buck gutted neck to groin, gulping and crying in the agony of slow death, while that bastard demon John watched with glowing yellow eyes.

And Buck had sat here the whole time holding court, with a bunch of women fawning over him and sipping Inez's good coffee.

Buck's smile disappeared like dew on a hot morning, and Chris was viciously glad. Mrs. Tipper's girl, Kathy or Kate or something, snapped her mouth shut, and both Mrs. Potter and Mary looked distinctly uncomfortable. He could only imagine how hard his face must look to cause Mary to glance nervously away. He jerked his eyes from the domestic scene, and how in hell had Buck got a woman like Gloria Potter and a kid like whatever-her-name-was to sit happily inside this saloon? Gritting his teeth to keep from saying something he'd regret, he walked straight to the bar and leaned his elbows against it, nodding to the whiskey bottles on the back shelf.

Inez had herself a glass already in hand, and he resisted the urge to growl when she purposely poured short. "Is that all I'm paying for?" he barely whispered. He stared at the glass until the neck of the bottle came back into view, and Inez topped it off. Swallowing his drink in one, Chris tapped the rim for another as the women took their sweet time getting the fuck out of here and away from Buck. The whiskey burned in his nose and down to his gullet, promising some relief.

"Well, I can see you're in good hands now, and I really should be going," Mary said. "That newspaper won't collate itself."

"Thank you for dropping by, Mary."

"Ma's gonna kill me for being gone so long," the Tipper girl said, and a small part--a very small part--of Chris felt guilty, because he knew he was scaring her and she hadn't done anything wrong. "I'm leavin' these biscuits, you just bring the cloth back over later, all right, Buck?"

"I surely will, and you thank your mama, darlin'."

Chris glanced in the mirror as Inez refilled his glass; Gloria Potter, the nag, kept casting concerned glances between Buck's face and the back of Chris' head. Get out of here and leave us alone, old woman.

"I'd best get back to the shop myself. Don't you be a stranger, Buck. You know I always enjoy your company."

"Yes ma'am, I sure will come by."

"Mr. Larabee?" she called out as she rose from the chair.

Chris stiffened without looking up. "Yeah?"

"Is something wrong?"

He turned to glare at her, and only Buck's vicious look made him attempt to be civil. "No."

She paused, looking between them again. She was a damned fine mother; too bad she liked to extend the courtesy to grown men who didn't want or need her attentions. "It's just that, Mr. Wilmington is hurt and out of sorts, you gentlemen left and you... you're drinking at nine in the morning."

Buck's earthy, amused chuckle did nothing for his mood, and Chris said as evenly as he could, "Maybe you just don't spend enough time in saloons, ma'am, to know that if a man's in one at nine in the mornin', he might want a drink at nine in the mornin'."

Buck cleared his throat. "Gloria, old Chris, he ain't much for friendly conversation 'afore noon, you know, just like your husband was. Best leave him be."

"Well, all right. You boys be good."

Buck shook his head fondly, while Chris resisted the urge to sneer at her. Sometimes she tried to treat them like they were ten-year-olds. Thank God she was the only person in town who tried to get away with that. He turned back to the bar, emptied and pointed again to his glass; Inez gave him one of those Catholic glowers of hers, set the bottle on the bar and flounced out of the room.

Nathan walked in as Mrs. Potter walked out, taking in the scene and wisely keeping his damned mouth shut. The black man sat at the table with Buck, looking but not speaking, while Buck's frown grew. They shrugged at each other, and Chris reached for the bottle to fill his glass himself--apparently Buck's signal to stand and belly up to the bar.

"Chris?"

"What?" he asked, staring at the bottom of his empty glass. The liquor was worming its way in now, softening the edges on his anger without softening anything else.

"What happened out there?"

"Nothing."

"Gimme one a' those," Buck tried, nodding his head toward the whiskey.

"Get it yourself." He knew Buck couldn't, or at least shouldn't, but he'd be damned if he'd wait on the man right now.

"All right," Buck started with a longsuffering sigh, "what's the matter?"

"Nothin'." He filled the glass again and Buck grabbed for it while Chris restoppered the whiskey bottle.

Buck highlighted his efforts with grunts and groans. "Ow. Mmm. Thank you." He set the glass back on the bar and Chris refilled it for himself. The third shot did the trick, he decided as the tingle reached for his fingertips. The whipcord tension in his body began slowly to ease.

"You don't have no call to be so bad to those women, Chris," Buck finally said. "Nor to me."

"No call?" he hissed, barely avoiding poking the man in the chest to provoke him. "You're in danger, so you put women and that little girl in the line of fire? And the danger is all your fault, you lying sonofabitch. Maybe if you'd mentioned this sometime over the last thirteen goddamned years, I'd have been able to help you. Maybe if--"

"Chris!" Nathan's harsh shout pulled him up short and he turned to warn the black man off. This wasn't Nathan's fight, wasn't Nathan's problem, wasn't Nathan's business.

"You stay out of this!" He turned back to Buck, and for the first time since he'd opened his mouth, saw the thunderstruck look on the man's face.

The look in Buck's eyes was one he'd seen before, and the pause Nathan had afforded him finally let him understand what that look meant. His words had bitten deep, and Buck was waiting for whatever more Chris would heap on him. "Go on," Buck said quietly, wearily. The look said what the words said: go on, punish me, I know you're gonna, please just be sure you yell loud and long enough that you can be done with it for now, so we can put it behind us until the next time.

Bastard. Fucking bastard! Vin wasn't standing around expecting the worst of him. Hell, Ezra had more faith in him than Buck did, and he'd be damned if he would stand for that from the man who knew him longest and best and who hadn't let himself be known at all. Chris spat out a low curse. Buck flinched and slumped his shoulders, ducked his head another inch, his eyes darting wildly in the still, quiet face. Chris remembered that look too, the look that said Buck was preparing himself to take whatever Chris would mete out, was forgiving him before he even raised his voice.

Or his fists.

This look, the one Buck wore now, said he would take what Chris needed him to, even that he understood Chris' reasons for lashing out, which was a damned lie since most of the time, Chris couldn't say he understood them himself.

For all the violence they had seen and shared, between the war and the west and their own temperaments, it was suddenly clear that none of it eclipsed the violence of Buck's youth. Sodomites and horsewhips and bullet wounds and gutted mothers must seem a lot more extreme than your closest friend taking out his grief and pain on you. Or maybe not, because Buck had finally left. The cloudy, drunken memories of that time after Sarah's death that John Doe had awakened hung like specters in the dark places of his mind. He had no clear impressions of events, suspected he never would, but his hands remembered blows, and memory supplanted the smooth, even features before him with swollen eyes and split lips.

Good lord, if he had ever hit Sarah, or his boy, he'd never have been able to forgive himself.

He wasn't sure he could forgive himself for beating Buck, nor Buck for letting him.

He wasn't sure he could face any of that, now, tangled as it was in the snarl that was thirteen years of lies and friendship. But he could avert it, this one time, then maybe the next time would be easier; he had the courage and the affection in him to do at least that, because damn it, it wasn't Buck's fault that Chris was so fucking terrified of losing a beloved again that he couldn't ride a mile away from the man without falling into a panic. That was his own fault, and he'd figure out what to do about it later.

He closed his eyes. He drew a breath. He set the glass back on the bar and sighed when Buck tensed, just slightly, beside him. Good lord, they had a long way to go.

"Calm down," he muttered, steering Buck back toward the table. "It's my fault, you didn't do nothing wrong." He dragged his hand over Buck's back as he eased him into a chair. He pulled another chair away from the table and moved it right up next to Buck's, and anyone who tried to question him for sitting next to a hurt friend in a saloon at nine o'clock in the morning could meet him in the middle of the street, pistol loaded, to say it. Under the table, he pushed his leg over until his shin rested beneath Buck's calf, and slumped down in the chair. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go for hours, now.

"Is too my fault," Buck said quietly, and his head still hung low. Chris absorbed Nathan's silent, glaring reprimand, and shrugged his shoulders; he couldn't go back. "Though I don't know if me telling you years ago woulda done nothing 'cept made us not be friends no more."

Chris sucked in a deep breath; three shots of whiskey should have stilled the turmoil inside him, or at least slowed it down a little. All it was doing was muzzying his mental focus.

"It's my fault I didn't just run when John showed up, like I should've. I coulda led him off maybe, him and the rest of 'em if I'd run."

Nathan, gentle-voiced and kind, piped in. "You don't think they'd have killed Chris, ta be sure you didn't have no one to come back to? Or the rest of us? How many people are you s'posed to lose 'cause of them folks, Buck? How much family ya got to give up? Naw, you did jes the right thang, stayin' here, givin' us all a chance to decide for ourselves."

Chris nodded fiercely, but Buck, beside him, didn't see it.

"If something happens to JD or Chris, it ain't gonna feel like the right thing to any of us," Buck growled. "Chris is right, I shoulda told him years ago. And I shouldn't have let them gals stay in here. I just--damn, I was just scared."

"Chris don't think none a' that," Nathan asserted, and Chris looked up to catch his eye, warn him off. "Chris," Nathan continued steadily, "rode like the devil was chasin' him ta get back here, and I'm thinking he saw you all relaxed and friendly and felt like the fool he's actin'."

"You ain't got no call ta talk about Chris that way, Nate," Buck defended, his tone going the slightest bit hostile.

"He's right," Chris said quietly, turning his head to catch Buck's eye. The embarrassment made him want to squirm, but damn it, he refused to accept that Buck or any of them was braver than he was; if Buck could tell the truth, then Chris could, too. Besides, Nathan was good at holding his temper; he had no call to get slapped down when he was right. "Leave him alone, he's right. We're all scared. Now just settle down and let's wait to see if the others find something useful."

The immediate tensions diffused, Nathan went off to find a deck of cards, some water, and Inez. Chris paid her for four whiskeys. Buck fumbled a book up onto the table and started reading, occasionally nudging him with a grin and reading steamy passages aloud. Where the hell had a book like that come from? Chris hadn't known they existed. It just figured that Buck would.

"Speaking of readin'," Nathan said out of the blue, "I been thinkin' 'bout how best to teach Vin his letters."

Buck chuckled. "Just get a few of these here racy books for him, that'll give him plenty of motivation."

Chris sneered in derision. "He ain't you, Buck. He knows how to think with more than the little head."

"Then what's your idea, ya smart alec?" Buck challenged, good humor restored--hell, he looked guardedly joyful.

Chris shrugged. "Dunno. Something about Indians, maybe? Not them dumb dime novels; Josiah'd know if there's books about spirits, or totems or whatever they call that stuff."

Nathan glanced around the empty room before he leaned forward and whispered, not entirely comfortably, "He don't hardly need them racy books when he's got all a' y'all around, nohow."

"Nathan!" Buck squeaked, delighted.

Chris closed his eyes and prayed for strength.

It wasn't twenty minutes before he got bored with Buck's book and snatched it out of his hand. Buck looked outraged for about three seconds, then settled lower in his chair and started making up racy stories of his own. Chris couldn't decide if he was disgusted or horny, especially when he recognized bits of them as things he and Buck had got up to, just with the names and sexes changed. So he grinned weakly and kept his mouth shut.

"I'm gonna take the horses down to the livery," Nathan interrupted quietly; the black man still wasn't at ease with the idea of Buck's single-mindedness turned toward the Seven, and Chris couldn't blame him.

"We'll go with you," Chris offered, standing up and poking Buck unceremoniously between the shoulderblades to rouse him. "C'mon, Buck. The horses need to be cooled down, and your legs ain't broke."

"I'm feeling awful tired," Buck said, a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Don't start," Chris muttered. He pushed aside the batwing doors and waited for Buck to saunter past him before falling in behind. It was going to be a long day.

CHAPTER 23

Ezra craved fresh, clean water and a far stronger libation to clear his palate. He wasn't going to find spirits here in the McConnell home; anti-liquor, anti-gambling, anti-everything-Ezra-found-pleasure-in, only their sense of Christian charity had compelled them to invite Josiah and himself to lunch with them. In fact, he suspected that only Josiah's presence had gotten them in the door. So here he sat, enduring oversalted pork that he couldn't swear wasn't off, old milk and badly cooked turnip greens, and Mickey and Molly McConnell's poorly veiled criticisms. He hated even the best turnip greens, or any part of the turnip for that matter.

He entertained himself by giving Josiah pointed looks, and quoting Scripture just to annoy them; they knew Ezra by reputation, and openly disapproved of him, so he hoped they would be offended that he even knew their holy words, much less let them pour verbatim out of his befouled mouth. You lot don't know the half of it, he thought with well-hidden disdain. The only pale light at the end of the tunnel was that he and Josiah had agreed this would be their last stop.

He choked down as much of the meal as he could, then caught Josiah's eye. "I'm sure we have taken up enough of these good people's time, Mr. Sanchez," he said mildly. "Thank you again for the repast and the hospitality. You must permit me to return the favor sometime."

They looked at each other doubtfully, and Ezra wondered where he would find rotted meat to serve them if they ever decided he was serious. "May the Lord bless you and remove from you your sinful ways," Mickey finally said.

"'But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses'," Ezra responded. Josiah glared at him and he smiled brightly in reply. He wasn't the one who had accepted the invitation to partake of this thinly disguised poison.

Josiah waited until they had mounted up and ridden out of earshot to reprimand the gambler; Ezra, he liked to gamble in far too many ways. "I know you don't believe in the Scriptures, Ezra, and I s'pose I can understand why. But there's no need to ridicule those that find comfort in the Word."

"They started it."

Josiah chuckled, and shook his head. Ezra was a bigger man than this, most days. Josiah suspected his small-mindedness was directly related to the ache in his backside and a few hours in the saddle. "That they did. Just mind your tongue in the future, if you possibly can. Satan's reach is long, and I'd rather not have your silver tongue on his side."

"I'd have to believe in Satan to be of any use to him, don't you think?"

Josiah looked at the hard-set profile for a long minute; he'd recognized the insult Ezra had felt, being looked down on by those uneducated, poor farmers. He suspected Ezra'd gotten a lot of that, in his youth. How must it be to know he was damned and then have everyone remind him of it? "I think you believe in evil, Ezra. I think you believe in avarice. And I know you believe in God's eternal love, even if you don't call it that."

Ezra looked shocked. "Are you suggesting even for a moment that this unholy union in which we have all partaken is blessed by any of the Names you call god?"

"I know for a fact most a' them Greek and Roman gods didn't see nothin' wrong with it. And I like to think that even the God of the dear lord Jesus would have a little smile for us, if only because love is the binding force that holds this family together."

"And here I thought it was a dollar a day."

Josiah chuckled heartily at that; Ezra could no more live on a dollar a day than could his Holiness, Pius IX. "Of all of us here, Ezra, you are the one least able to claim it's your weekly pay that matters. It's your desire to be respected, to be needed--if not by the community, certainly by the rest of us."

"What a simple answer to complex motivations," Ezra dismissed, seemingly deep in thought.

Josiah just shrugged. He knew what was what, and he didn't need Ezra to admit it out loud. Thinking over the last several months, he could pinpoint when the most profound change had occurred in Ezra; it was after that mess with a killer's blood money. He seemed more accepting of himself, and that slightest bit less disdainful of others (simple Christian folk excluded). He'd been as broke as he ever was for several weeks before that, losing steadily and sending his mother money to keep her from coming to visit. And yet, here he still was. "Say what you want; if you ever thought you had a back door out of here, we all know you've closed it." Over Ezra's gasp of outrage, Josiah continued, "And I, for one, am damned glad of it."

Things got quiet for a time, and when they reached the riverbank and the cooler air beneath the trees, they nudged their horses into a brisk trot.

"Well," Ezra ventured, "This day has certainly been a waste so far."

Message received, my brother, Josiah thought, letting himself be led into polite, shallow conversation. "I wouldn't say that, Ezra," he mused.

"Watching you share the same news with--what, thirty families?--and garner nothing useful in return? I could have remained in bed."

"That's as may be," Josiah agreed, "but aside from watching you purposely baiting the McConnells all through lunch, I've enjoyed the time we spent together."

"Excuse me?"

"You hard of hearin'?" Josiah asked, quirking his lip.

"No," Ezra replied, obviously trying to resist a smile that threatened to light up his face, "I just noticed I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

Yep, Ezra Standish's last hope of leaving them was closed, locked and nailed shut, and since Ezra had done the closing and locking and nailing, Josiah knew the barricades would hold. Ezra Standish, the handsome, charming and conniving son of a beautiful, charming con woman, wasn't going anywhere, a fact that made Josiah's old heart glad.

"C'mon, let's go get ourselves some decent food."

"Thank the good Lord Almighty, my sins are being rewarded. Hyah!" Ezra was off in front of him before he could reply.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

After ten or twelve miles and about the same number of families, Vin had finally turned Peso toward Nettie Wells' place, and it looked like JD was glad of it. When Nettie opened her door, the smell of peas and cornbread wafted out, and Vin's mouth started to water.

"Well, what a nice surprise." Nettie stepped on out to the porch and a smile brightened her lined face.

"Miz Nettie," Vin greeted, touching his hat brim. "We was just riding out this a'way and thought we'd stop by."

"Well, it's always good to see you, Vin. You too, JD," she added, though it amused Vin to no end that her tone was cooler. Nettie couldn't say she liked the idea of a gunman paying suit to her niece, even a gunman as young and untroublesome as JD, and she never made bones about showing it.

"Howdy, ma'am," JD said respectfully.

"Have y'all had any dinner? We're on our way to getting ready to eat."

JD looked longingly toward him, and Vin repressed a smile. "If you're sure you got enough?"

"Of course."

"Much obliged."

"Well, come on inside, Vin. JD, Casey's walked the horses down to the creek for a drink, you could go help her bring 'em back, if you want."

Vin turned his head to keep his smile from showing; JD looked happy and scared stiff, like a man ready to walk down the aisle. Hell, the kid was so nervous he was sweating.

"Be happy to, ma'am," he croaked, and darted around the side of the house.

"Something wrong with him?" Nettie asked.

"Nothing time won't fix," Vin brushed it off. "You got anything needs totin', while I'm here?"

"Thank you kindly, Vin. Later this week, if you have time, I'd sure appreciate you helping Casey with some shingling. We got ourselves an old patch on the roof over the kitchen that started leaking again the last time it rained."

"I can do that." He loosened Peso's saddle cinch since they'd be staying awhile, and did the same for Dancer.

"I'll tell you," she went on amiably, "ever since you came 'round that first time, this place ain't never looked so good."

Vin ducked his head, pleased. "Thank ya, ma'am. Means a lot, comin' from you."

"All the help you get your boys to give us, it means a lot to me, too," she said, holding the door for him.

He tipped his hat and waved her inside, following close behind through the dim parlor. "JD and me, we been ridin' around to some of the local folks," he started. "Chris wanted ta make sure none a' them people who were causin' trouble in town are tryin' ta cause any more."

"I ain't seen hide nor hair of anyone except the neighbors in a month, at least. Casey told me what she saw of them in town, when we rode back out here last week; you thank Buck again for me."

"Yes'm, I sure will."

"So are these folks worth worryin' about?"

"No ma'am, we don't think so. To tell ya the truth, we figure Chris is just actin' ornery, 'cause Buck got himself banged up purty bad and is frustratin' everybody." There. She'd believe that quick enough, and most of it was true.

JD stood at the back corner of the house, listening to Nettie and Vin inside, as they settled down to talk about nothing in particular. His heart pounded like he'd just run a mile. He ran his hands up and down the seams of his trousers to wipe the sweat off his palms. Come on, JD, he said to himself, trying to make the voice in his head sound like Buck's, that li'l girl is head over heels for ya! Though I can't think why. Oh, great help. Even Buck's voice in his head needed to take him down a peg. And if he didn't get a move on, he'd end up sitting across a table from Casey worrying about spilling his water, while Nettie Wells gave him the evil eye, without ever having said a word to her. That old bat just plain didn't like him, no matter what Vin said. Old women were young women once, JD. You show the proper respect. "Shut up, Buck!" he hissed aloud.

"What was that?" Nettie's alert, suspicious voice from inside the house roused him to action; he sprinted off toward the creek before she could stick her head out the window and catch him talking to himself like a fool. Any stupid thing he might do in front of Casey couldn't be as bad as the mute idiot he turned into when the old--when Mrs. Wells glowered at him.

"What was what?" Vin asked, calling her attention back to him and trying hard not to burst out laughing. Nettie's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"I ain't so old I'm hearing things, Vin. You heard it too."

Vin couldn't keep his belly from clenching on him, and finally gave up trying. "It was just JD," he admitted, with absolutely no compunction about getting a laugh at his little brother's expense. "He sorta yells at himself when he's nervous."

She shook her head, frowning first at Vin, then at the open window. "That boy is peculiar, and that's all there is to it."

Vin wasn't going to argue. He never had figured out how JD could have gotten to be twenty years old and still be so dumb.

CHAPTER 24

As they approached town, Josiah watched Ezra rise from his comfortable slouch and unconsciously begin to straighten out his clothing. He had seen the same movements before they had arrived at almost every home, and it amused him how much time Ezra spent on his vanity. Appearances were everything, Ezra often said, and there was no doubt that it was Maude he'd been quoting. Josiah had the passing urge to tumble the young gambler into a field of tall grass and thoroughly muss him, and that fancy amused him even more.

"And what has made you so very cheerful of a sudden, Josiah?" Ezra asked casually. Josiah's smile widened; he hadn't known Ezra was watching him.

"Just thinking."

Ezra tilted his head. "Do I want to know?" he asked skeptically.

Now that... that was a very good question. But it wasn't a question worth finding the answer to until Josiah knew for a fact that mussing Ezra wasn't some kind of metaphor for a great many other things. He shrugged. "I can't say as I know the answer to that, Ezra."

Ezra watched him from the corner of one green eye for what felt like an hour. "You, sir, are arousing my interest."

"Long as that's all I'm arousing," he shot back with a grin. Ezra's eyes widened, and an uncharacteristic bark of laughter, obviously unpremeditated, erupted.

"I would blame that reply on your delightful sense of humor, were I sure that was all it was." Ezra's tone was measuring, amused, and speculative.

Josiah, entirely unsure of himself and wary of starting something he didn't want to finish, donned his own poker face and said mildly, "I sure am thirsty. You think the rest of the boys are back?"

"I have no idea," Ezra let the subject change without challenge. "But I do know that you and I deserve a drink and a decent meal for our work, and that Inez was starting tamales when we left this morning."

"Mmmm mmm. That woman sure knows how to cook."

"Far better than those McConnells ever will."

"Don't start."

They stopped first at the stables; JD and Vin were still out. Pony, Steele and Quinn dozed in a shaded corner of the corral, their noses nearly touching. Other horses not of their herd maintained appropriate distances, and Josiah wondered who chased them off when Peso wasn't around. Seeker and Maverick, when released, plodded slowly toward their three friends, stopping at the empty trough on the way to inspect it for missed bits of feed. Josiah watched as the horses greeted each other, whuffing quietly before settling down close. Those horses were symbolic, and Josiah found he relished the symbol.

"I daresay," Ezra breathed, "that you might want to consider your own poker face, Josiah."

Josiah shrugged and chuckled. "Maybe later." Right now, he didn't feel like he had anything to hide except a good mood. "Come on, let's go tell the others what we haven't found."

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Casey stood on the creek bank a few feet from the horses, skipping stones on water so smooth and clear it looked like glass. JD stopped under the shadow of a stubby pine tree, unable to take the last few steps or call out her name. He felt like a sneak, but the fact was, seeing her really did make him think of what he'd done with Buck, and the flush of shame coursed through his body right alongside the flash of pleasure. That was another thing that was different, now; before, his nerves had always kept him from having, well, that reaction, until well after he'd left Casey. But now his manhood seemed ready to rise to the occasion if he wasn't careful. Think pure thoughts. That was easy enough around Casey; she was so pretty and so innocent and so kind. She stood there all unawares, pant legs rolled up to her knees-- he liked that she wore pants, liked that she enjoyed being comfortable, not like most other women. They were snug at her small waist, and her shirt, tucked in, pulled across her shoulders when she followed through on her throws.

She was beautiful.

"Hey," he said, and she jerked around in surprise. The nearest horse, the bay that pulled the buckboard and a plow, threw its head up and danced sideways until the lead line went taut.

"Oh! JD, I didn't hear you comin'!"

"Hey, Casey," he said, and his voice was so thin he cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey, Casey." That was better. He walked right up to her. On any other day, given what he was thinking, he'd have been stammering and stumbling and his body would have been tied in knots. But today he felt a welcoming smile threaten to crack his face it was so big, and all he wanted to do was comfort her sudden nervousness. "Hey," he said again, touching her cheek with one finger.

"Uhm..." her eyes darted around a little wildly, and JD just sighed, and put his arms around her. Pressing his cheek to hers, feeling her skin so smooth and soft against his beard, he gave her a minute to collect herself. I thought I'd wait for you to get over your panic first. It was comforting, to remember Buck while holding Casey in his arms, to think that this was all natural and okay, and that he wasn't going to screw everything up. He could feel Casey's heart beat against his ribs when she so tentatively hugged him back, against his lips when he tilted his face toward her throat. Hell, why wouldn't he think of Buck, and do everything he could to ease Casey just like Buck had done for him? It was easier than he had thought it would be, to reverse their roles in his head, because as ignorant as he was himself, Casey was that much worse. "JD, I..." she sounded panicked, so he drew a few steps away.

"It's all right," he whispered. "I didn't mean to scare ya."

"You didn't scare me!" she frowned, and he almost laughed. But she'd take it the wrong way. Looking at Casey, he knew now what Buck had seen when Buck had shown up at his door to seal their deal and form their pack. Of course you c'n handle this, he heard Buck say. He was surprised he remembered the actual words, but then, fear had a way of imprinting information on his brain.

"Okay, I didn't scare ya," he soothed.

"You didn't!" she snapped, indignant.

"Okay!" Geez, she was worse than he'd ever been... and rightly so, he realized, pulling up short. She was a girl, shipped out here before she was twelve years old, with mostly Nettie for company, and Nettie almost never let her go anywhere by herself. She was as sweet a girl as he had ever known, and the fact that she liked him still amazed him at times. "Let me help you with the horses," he offered, to change the subject. His body still thrummed, made it hard to concentrate, and all his blood threatened to pool in his groin. Maybe he could ask Buck what to do about that.

While he pondered the vagaries of courting, Casey collected herself a little and pulled two horses' halter ropes off the longer lead line. "Here." She handed them over and he couldn't help but smile at her sullenness. Did it mean that she was standing there thinking things like he'd been thinking? A little thrill ran through him, that she might be thinking of the two of them together, being scared of it, maybe excited too, maybe wanting it--

"What're you looking like that for?" she demanded, turning her horses toward the house.

"Like what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged stiffly. "Like a moron or something, or like somebody just hit you on the head with a rock."

"Well, you do that ta me, Casey," he avowed, embarrassed in a delicious kind of way. He eased around so that they were beside each other and between the horses, and reached for her hand. "C'mon." There it was again, that darkening blush on her cheeks, and with it the flowering, airy pleasure in his chest. Was this what Buck felt around the ladies all the time? No, it couldn't be; he'd never be able to string three words together, and that was definitely not a problem Buck had ever had. Ever.

They were half way to the barn when Nettie's holler from the back of the house shocked him so badly, he dropped her hand and almost dropped the horses' leads. "Casey! What're you doin' dallying out there, girl? Lunch is waiting."

"Be right there, Aunt Nettie!" she called back. They had the horses back in the stalls before JD's heart climbed back down out of his throat.

"Casey?" he asked her, before they left the barn.

"Yeah?"

"We just got a minute before we have to go inside," he started.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I just... I just want you to know," he wound down to a halt, flustered.

"What, JD?"

"I just want you to know, I know we only got a minute," he finally tried. "So you don't have to worry with me. Not now, not ever."

"JD, what're you talking about?"

Screwing up his courage, his whole heart focused on her pink lips, he muttered, "This," then touched her chin to tilt her head toward his.

She drew a sharp breath, and he paused just a few inches from her face, not wanting to do it if she really didn't want him to. He watched as her eyes widened. She opened her mouth just a little bit, to lick her lips. He could feel the tiny tremor that ran through her and right into his fingertips. The scents of horse and hay and spring were thick here in the shade of the barn, and he smelled the soap she used, too, wondered if she washed in the creek like he sometimes did to avoid paying for a bath. That thought led naturally to the fact that if she did that, she must be naked when she washed, and a thrill like he had never known ran through him. He wasn't scared; he was too focused on making sure she wasn't scared. He just wanted her.

She hadn't pulled away, hadn't moved at all, so he closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.

Her trembling increased, and he wondered if she was more excited than scared, since at least she had the advantage of knowing nothing much was going to happen. He opened his mouth just a fraction, and let his tongue touch her lips, and they opened like a flower to the sunshine. Smooth, warm, precious. Lightly stirring breeze, the fluttering sounds of birds outside and mice in the stacked hay, horses' hooves thudding lightly against packed earth. Their first kiss. God, why had he waited so long?

"Casey!" Nettie's voice shattered the moment, and none too soon, because his body was heating up and that was the last thing he wanted to happen right now. "Y'all come on, now!"

She pulled away, and JD let her.

"She's gonna come down here with a hickory switch for me if I don't get you up there," he said quietly. "It's all right, Case," he whispered. "I just felt like I shoulda done that a long time ago."

She met his gaze for a moment. Then she grinned, and blushed, and her eyes... they positively shone. "Maybe you should've." There was a tiny, awkward pause. "Race you to the house?" she asked timidly.

"You're on!"

He let her win, and as soon as Nettie Wells narrowed her eyes at him, he got tongue-tied all over again. Lunch was delicious: black eyed peas, biscuits baked this morning, stewed tomatoes and fresh veniso that Jane Colby, two farms over, had shot. The folks out this way, they'd been here longer than most, and were good neighbors to each other.

Casey kept smiling at him then ducking her head, and JD kept thinking about what he had done with Buck and blushing into his peas and biscuits. It wasn't what he'd done with Buck exactly, but that he'd felt so good doing it. He didn't think that girls could feel that good, but he knew Buck would know if they could, and how to make them. He thought maybe he could grill Buck for details about how to take care of a woman without Buck laughing too much at him, since his heart was in the right place. And JD wanted to be able to, wanted her to enjoy herself with him when they got that far. Sitting there staring at his half-empty plate, he couldn't understand how he'd grown up around stable hands and horses and rich people without once hearing what girls liked. He shrugged mentally. The boys who'd worked in the stables, they seemed to care a lot more about what they liked.

He caught her eye again, arrested when she bit at her lower lip. He'd loved kissing her, and she'd been so flushed after, he felt sure he'd got that part right, at least. He wouldn't have to ask Buck anything about kissing, then.

"Miz Nettie, we'd best be going," Vin said, and JD was vaguely disappointed. But everyone else was probably back in town already, and he wanted to know what they'd found out, and take care of these upstart intruder Two-Bloods once and for all. And he wanted to talk to Buck about Casey, though it was just dawning on him that he'd probably be talking for a very, very long time. Casey was a real good girl, and he couldn't imagine her wanting to have relations with him unless they were at least engaged.

That was its own can of worms; how were they going to get engaged now that he was a part of Buck's and Chris' pack? He'd have to tell her. How did a man tell someone about that? He didn't even have the luxury of just stripping off his clothes and turning into a wolf; he'd have to rely on words alone, and they'd cart him off to a loony bin before he got anywhere.

JD got sly and let Nettie walk Vin onto the porch, signaling Casey with his eyes to hang back. She did, under pretense of clearing the table, and as soon as Nettie was out of sight, he stepped up beside her. "You all right?" he asked, smiling a little.

"Of course I am," she whispered, disconcerted.

"I just wanted ta be sure," he said softly. He reached out to her, pleased like he had never imagined when she froze for his fingers when they touched her cheek. "You mean a lot to me, Case." He'd never been able to say that before.

Her eyes were so big, it was like looking into the soft, wild eyes of a doe. "I think a lot about you too, JD."

JD checked to make sure the coast was clear, and pulled her into a hug once more. "I gotta go."

"I'll see ya."

From just outside the house, Nettie called, "JD! You leaving, or ain't you?" JD rolled his eyes. She really did hate him.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

"She hates me," JD groaned ten minutes out from the Wells homestead, and Vin grinned at his discomfort.

"She don't hate you, JD." He tugged Peso's head around again; damned horse kept trying to bite his knee today. "She just protects Casey."

"She don't think I'd protect Casey, too?"

Vin chortled. "Not from yourself, you won't. Well," he added fairly, "most men don't." He had a sneaking suspicion that JD would. "Nettie'll come round, in time."

"I don't know, Vin. But Casey, didn't she look pretty today?"

"Yeah, she did," Vin lied. He'd never seen a white girl more of a tomboy than Casey Wells, but Buck had been right from the first about them two; JD never looked more terrified than when he was about to visit her to ask for a walk or a ride or to partner in a dance.

JD's eyes had gone all unfocused, and his smile threatened to hurt his face it was so big. Vin wondered if he ought to leave it alone, but curiosity got the better of him; they'd only been alone for maybe five minutes, and he couldn't imagine what they'd got up to that was making JD act like this.

"So what happened back there today?" He kept the teasing note out of his voice, opting for just making conversation. The last couple of times he'd tried to joke with JD about sex, the kid had looked ready to have a heart attack.

"You don't talk about things like that, Vin," JD admonished, and Vin wondered who had taught JD that lesson, because it sure as hell wasn't Buck. He was about to ask the question aloud when something on the road caught his attention. It wasn't much, just disturbed earth and a pile of fresh horse manure right at the edge of the road.

"Hold up." He pulled Peso up beside the dirt and dismounted.

"What is it?" JD asked, standing in his stirrups.

"Nothin', prob'ly," Vin said absently. "Here, hold him." He handed Peso's reins up to JD.

The manure was cooler on the dirt side, but not dry; maybe an hour had passed. The tracks belonged to four horses, all shod, all light, Thoroughbreds maybe, and not loaded down. They moved into single file and left the road right beside a scrubby oak tree, then headed into high brush. There were no human footprints, no wolf prints, but his intuition told him this could be what they were looking for.

JD, watching from astride Dancer, wondered when he'd ever be half as good as Vin at this. The idea of stopping just to look at fresh horse manure hadn't even occurred to him, but it was a good one; there were only a few farms down this road, and all of them past Nettie's place. If anyone had come by, Vin or Nettie would have heard them from inside her house.

"Hang on a second," Vin said, and stepped off the road.

"Vin, I don't think you oughtta do that," JD said, uneasiness creeping over him. He stood in the stirrups again, to see if he could see anything out in the brush and trees.

"I'm not goin' far," Vin called back, "I just wanna see which direction they're goin'." JD waited, his stomach tightening as the seconds ticked by. "I think I found something, JD," he heard Vin call, and now he had to be thirty or forty feet into the brush. "I think--" and then came the unmistakable sound of branches crackling and a dog's snarl and Vin yelling. Gunfire reported loudly in the quiet air, stopping his heart, and a second later Vin was yelling "Run, JD! Run!"

Already kicking loose a stirrup to dismount, he remembered suddenly the terrified look in Buck's eyes, and the promise he had made. Torn between diving into the fray and Buck's sure and certain knowledge that he didn't know how to defeat this enemy, JD did the hardest thing he had ever done in his life: he dropped Peso's reins, put the spurs to Dancer and galloped toward town like demons were chasing him.

CHAPTER 25

It was only a couple of miles back to town, and by the time JD arrived, he was panting harder than Dancer and doing everything he could not to cry. All he could think of on the hard, wild ride was that he had run off, had abandoned Vin to those bastard Two-Bloods, and that Vin could be dead already. And if he was, it would be JD's own fault. He couldn't even convince himself it was Buck's fault for making him promise, because Buck hadn't been out there on that road with him, so close he could have helped Vin, maybe. And if Buck had, he'd have said to hell with the promise and run to the aid of a friend.

Buck exploded through the saloon doors just in front of the others, even as JD skidded Dancer to a halt at the hitching post. "It's Vin," he panted. "They got Vin."

Buck paled, and stumbled back against the wall. Chris took three long strides forward and grabbed JD by his lapels. "What do you mean, they got Vin?"

"They grabbed him, Chris! He went off the road, thought he saw something. Then I heard yelling and a gunshot and Vin telling-me-to-run." He sagged suddenly, the weight of the choice he'd made settling on his shoulders, and only Chris' grip on his coat kept him upright.

Chris shook him roughly, rattling his thoughts around in his head. "What kind of gun?"

"What? I--"

"Damn it, what kind of gun!"

The words tumbled in JD's head, until he realized that the report he'd heard had been Vin's own Mare's leg. "It was his, I--"

"So he was alive when you left?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he was--" his voice choked, and the tears burned his eyes then. "I'm sorry Chris, I'm so sorry--"

"Shut up, JD," Chris said flatly, "and get to the livery. Get Steele saddled." Then Chris just shoved him toward Dancer, who threw his head up and lurched a couple of steps away when JD stumbled into his side.

But he had something to do now, something that might make a difference. So he swung back up and cantered down to the livery, calling for Tiny as he jumped off and dropped Dancer's reins. Everyone's horses were in the corral; he fetched all five bridles from the tack room in the barn, throwing all of them over the fence except Steele's. The others had caught up with him by then, and Tiny strolled out from the smithy, scratching his chest just beside his heavy leather apron.

"JD! Get over here." Chris stood by Dancer, one hand on his side, rising and falling with the horse's breath. "Walk Dancer, walk him, do you hear me? To the Wells Fargo office, and wait there. Wait right there. Don't go a foot past it. Dancer'll make the run back out but he needs a break, and you've got five minutes to give him that. You understand me?"

What JD couldn't understand was why Chris was talking to him like this. On the other hand, he couldn't quite understand what he was supposed to do, either. "Yeah. Yeah," he said anyway.

"Walk him, JD. Stop at the Stage office. We'll be right behind you."

JD might have asked something else, but Chris had already dismissed him and rounded on Yosemite. "Tiny," he ordered, "saddle up Steele for Buck. We're in a hurry."

"Something wrong, Chris?" Tiny asked.

"Yeah," Chris snapped, "Steele ain't got a saddle on him. Get to it!"

The ride back out was more serious, less frantic. Chris had forced them to keep to a canter, worried that if they winded the horses too early, they wouldn't be able to give chase. JD just worried that he wouldn't recognize the spot they had stopped, but that turned out not to be a problem; Peso stood right there on the side of the road, reins trailing on the ground, munching grass.

Everything happened in flashes, like lightning at night. Flash, Chris was on the ground. Flash, Ezra held his rifle, the bluing oil glinting a rainbow sheen in the harsh afternoon light. Flash, Seeker and Quinn jostled each other, spooked by their riders. Flash, Josiah's back, and Nathan's, as they stepped off the road and into the brush. Flash, the gleam of sunlight on nickel plating.

He didn't want them to go off the road, he didn't want them to get caught, or worse to find Vin lying there dead or dying, where JD had left him-- Flash, Ezra's concerned glance, right into his eyes, before he too followed Josiah and Nathan, rifle at the ready.

Flash, Buck drawing in great draughts of air. Flash, a look of combined rage and fear lighting like the angel of death on Buck's face.

Flash, Buck loomed before him. "You just came back from Nettie Wells' place?" Buck grated.

"Yeah. Yeah." He should have stayed, he should have fought them when he'd had the chance--

"Did you see Casey?"

Flash, that flush on Casey's face and the shadows of the barn. "Yeah," he answered automatically.

"What did you two do?"

Flash, the press of her mouth on his. "What? What, I..."

But Buck cursed, as angry as JD had ever seen him. "Damn it, boy, I c'n smell her on you! You think they won't smell you on her?"

"Oh, no." Not Casey, not Casey too. He almost dropped all the reins, not realizing until his fist tightened that he was holding four horses in the first place.

"JD!" Chris again, flash. Eyes sparking. "Get Buck on Steele and stay put. We go together. Get Buck on Steele." Chris turned. "Ezra! Josiah, Nathan! Get back here!"

The repetition echoed in his head until he could figure out the words, and he stepped toward Buck's gray, who stood as still as a statue. Holding four horses' reins, how would he do this? Thinking seemed to take more effort and energy than he had. He dropped to one knee to let Buck use his thigh as a step. The heel of the boot dug in when Buck pushed off; there would be a bruise.

Someone tore the reins from his hands, and he jerked; Ezra stood right beside him. As Ezra slid his rifle back into its scabbard, JD saw his mouth moving, realized he was talking. "...no blood. They have him, and as far as I can tell, he was alive and uninjured when they left here."

Flash. Everyone was on their horses but him. "JD!" Chris yelled, and again he met Ezra's eyes. He swung up and galloped with Ezra, chasing the others maybe fifty feet ahead.

Chris identified the scene before they drew an inch of rein. Nettie Wells stood by a half-harnessed draft horse, holding a rifle at half-mast and squinting toward them, obviously trying to make out who they were. "Mrs. Wells!" he called, reining in. It would just be his luck, to be picked off by an old woman whose eyesight was going. "It's Chris Larabee!"

She set the rifle on the wagon and ran toward them as they rode on in. She didn't waste time on greetings. "They took Casey. Three of them, strangers. I didn't worry so much because two of them were women, and they just rode right in like polite, regular folks." As calm as she acted, she had the light of panic in her eyes.

"Where'd they go?" he demanded.

"Don't waste your time, Chris," Buck hissed, and Chris locked eyes with him for a second. That intent indigo seemed to blaze; Buck knew where they'd gone.

"Get your rifle and get in the house, Mrs. Wells," he ordered, "and don't open the door. If we don't call out, you shoot first, you understand me?"

"You find my niece, Mr. Larabee, and you get her back to me unharmed. Do you understand me?"

Taken aback, Chris had a sudden inkling as to why Vin liked this crusty old woman; she was hard as nails. "I think we understand each other."

But there was something he didn't understand, something that wasn't adding up no matter how many different ways he tried. Eagle Bend was east. What the hell reason would these creatures have to be out on this side of town? "Buck? Which way do you reckon they went?" he asked, locking eyes again.

"If I was gonna guess, I'd say northwest, up toward the pass," Buck said neutrally, while his eyes promised certainty. "If they're up there, they won't get very far."

Chris tried to piece together the logic, but there didn't seem to be any. The road Buck refered to was washed out, two big chunks of it lost to flooding some years back, and the narrow river channel not three miles ahead was deep and fast and impassable for miles in either direction, this time of year. The new road had been pushed to the southwest, and the area Buck pointed them toward was rocky soil and box canyons and a cliff-edge, thirty feet high at least, and damned slow going for a gang escaping on horseback with captives. None of this made any sense.

If Two-Bloods didn't like to split up, then this hunting party couldn't be more than four or five strong. What the hell did they want? Why would they have grabbed Vin? What the hell sense was there in exposing themselves at the Wells homestead just to grab Casey? What could that cold bastard Doe be thinking? Chris felt a stab of illumination like he'd just looked into the sun, so important and so profound that he jerked Pony's reins.

"What, Chris?" Buck asked him, reading him like a newspaper.

"John Doe isn't behind this."

"The hell he isn't!" Buck snarled, forgetting himself and Nettie Wells, who still stood there watching them.

"Nettie," he turned on her, "you said there were three of them. What did they look like? Young, old?"

"Young, real young. One of the girls didn't look as old as Casey herself. Not until she pulled that pistol out of her pocket and butted Casey over the head with it."

He looked at Buck again, who still hadn't made the connection. This was an independent action. Somebody was acting up. He turned Pony northwest. "Buck?"

Buck nudged Steele into a trot, tossing a "thank you ma'am," over his shoulder.

"We'll be back, Mrs. Wells," he said gravely. "We'll get Casey back." He squeezed his calves, got Pony moving and caught up with Buck, trusting everyone to fall in behind.

"You want ta tell me what the hell you think you figured out?" Buck growled, as soon as they were out of earshot.

"It's the kids, Buck," he said, distracted.

"What?"

"Just tell me the minute you can say exactly where they are."

Buck took the lead, and Chris looked away to keep from watching him sniff the air. Wound up tight as a watchspring, this reminder of what Buck was jarred him. About ten minutes up the washed-out road, Buck slowed to a stop and everyone gathered round. "They're maybe a mile up, almost straight ahead. They've turned off the road and their scent ain't moving."

"What does that mean?"

"It means either the wind's changing, which it ain't, they've stopped, or they've gone behind something. And there's nothing to get behind up there that really blocks the air."

They had ridden right into the wind, leaving as clear a trail for Buck as Chris, Buck and Ezra had given them yesterday. They had panicked. "Let's go."

Josiah brought up the rear with Nathan, each of them casting more than their share of worried looks at the other. Chris was acting like the demon he could sometimes be, and Buck had that single-mindedness about him that Josiah could now say was more animal than man. Chris slid into the lead, pushing them all to a faster pace, but Buck didn't even seem to notice, and when he stopped Steele, Chris went another forty feet before noticing.

Chris turned. Josiah watched Buck's head jerk to the right; the enemy had left the trail. It was obvious when the tracks were pointed out to him, even on the rocky ground. Fresh hoofprints looked to be mixed in with not-so-fresh, and Josiah began to wonder if this wasn't where the Two-Bloods had stayed all last week, when not in town.

Perhaps a hundred yards into the brush, Buck stopped again and slid off his horse. Josiah did the same, as the others followed suit. "They're maybe half a mile ahead, elevated a little bit," he said quietly. "I don't know what's up there..."

"A box canyon," JD supplied. Everyone looked at him, and Josiah would have smiled when he blushed, if circumstances weren't so grave. "Casey and me come riding up here sometimes."

"They wouldn't be dumb enough to box themselves in, would they, Buck?" Chris asked.

"It's not really a box," JD amended. "It pinches off at the back, you can't take horses out. But," he glanced furtively at Buck, "I guess a wolf could climb out. A man could."

Buck nodded sharply. "If they really are cubs, Chris, that explains every dumb thing they've done so far. If they thought we wouldn't catch up, if they think we won't rush 'em 'cause they've got Vin and Casey, if they think I'm too busted up to be out here, and I'm still stuck in town--maybe they think they're hidden, who knows?"

Chris nodded his head decisively and drew his rifle. "Let's go find out. JD, you know a way up around this canyon?

"Downwind," Buck added. "On the right only, don't go near the top. You have to stay downwind."

JD looked between them and nodded. "Sure."

"Then let's go. Ezra, come on. Get your rifle." Buck just touched him briefly as he started to walk by, and Chris knew the fear in Buck's eyes was reflected in his own. No telling what they'd find.

The minutes passed as they moved slowly and silently, JD in front and more careful than Chris had ever seen him. He'd have spared a thought to be proud, in any other circumstance. They climbed, keeping bushes between them and the canyon lip until JD nodded and began to scoot through underbrush on his hands and knees. And the vantage point was perfect; JD really must spend a lot of time out here. A lot of time with Casey, more than Chris had ever guessed.

And there she was, well down below them, her hands tied. She was sitting up, and at this distance that was the only evidence of her physical state that Chris had.

Vin wasn't. Lying on his back, knees up and legs spread wide, arms stretched out on the ground, he looked like nothing more than a cowed dog. Two Two-Bloods stood in human form thirty or forty feet toward the mouth of the canyon, and two in wolf-form paced like anxious dogs around Vin and Casey. As Chris watched, the bigger one stepped right over Vin's belly and opened its jaws. Vin's head turned, cheek flat on the ground, and Chris felt a cold rage rise in him. He raised his rifle.

"No," Ezra breathed, and a hand reached, pushing the barrel back down. Ezra was right. At this distance, into the wind, there was no chance of accuracy. He couldn't shoot the ones around Vin, and he couldn't try for the ones away from him either, because the big one straddling Vin's belly would just take his throat out. Probably two seconds before it leapt on Casey and killed her, too.

They eased away from the lip of the canyon and spoke in urgent, whispered tones. "Ez, you stay here. Fire a shot--one shot--if anybody gets mauled. If you have to risk shooting at something, make sure you fire at least twice in succession."

Ezra didn't waste breath or risk noise. He simply melted back into the bushes, pushing his rifle before him. Jerking his head at JD, Chris eased back down the hill, ever wary of rolling stones and dry brush.

"Buck!" Chris hissed, as soon as he was close enough. Buck's head snapped up. "How do you make 'em change to wolves, Buck?" he demanded. The anger ate at him, the need for revenge so damned familiar, it burned like acid in his veins.

"Why?"

"Because I'm gonna skin their hides off 'em and give 'em to Clifford and his wife to sell," he snarled, "that's why."

Buck paled, and it took a moment for the fact to register with Chris. "Chris, you can't."

"The hell I can't!"

Beside him, Josiah said quietly, "Chris..."

Buck's voice was low and raw. "Chris, that'd be like skinning a person."

Not to me, it wouldn't, he almost said, but Buck's distress finally caught up to him. It would be like skinning Buck, that's what Buck was saying. He remembered imagining a big gray pelt on some farmer's wall, and blanched, suddenly worried he would lose his lunch. Buck's blue eyes, hard with tension, bored into him, and all Chris could think was that Buck had lied to him for thirteen years, and Vin and Casey Wells were in jeopardy in there, and he needed badly to hurt something. "Fine," he said quietly, breaking eye contact, "we kill 'em and we plant 'em, like any other bastards who come up against us."

JD listened to the exchange with half an ear, but all he could think about was Casey, sitting on the ground, tied up and maybe hurt, and scared to death as two creatures who looked like wolves growled at her and threatened her, and two creatures who looked like human beings did who knew what. "What're we gonna do?" he whispered.

Buck looked at him, and immediately JD found himself crushed in a one-armed hug. "You're white as a sheet, JD," Buck said, sounding worried.

"They got Casey," he said flatly. "They got her, and it's my fault for kissing her. Buck, if something happens to her because of me, I don't--"

"Buck, shut him up," Chris grated, and JD just felt worse.

"C'mon, JD," Buck said, frowning Chris' way. "Let's take a walk. We'll be back in a few minutes, Chris," Buck threw over his shoulder, and put his arm around JD's neck to steer him. "Now calm down, JD. Tell me what you saw."

JD recounted the details while they walked, and Buck asked quiet questions and made reassuring sounds. Just the solid presence of his friend helped immeasurably. JD hated to need the reassurances, but he couldn't stop thinking of the story of Buck's mother and how she had died. He knew that could happen to Casey, if these heartless bastards were of a mind to harm her.

Buck's voice was soothing and quiet. "I'm gonna tell you why you got nothin' to worry about except being ready for when we have ourselves a plan."

He tried to listen as Buck talked about Two-Blood law, and packs, and authority, and something called pack hierarchy. He tried not to argue. He failed.

"But you already said they don't care about us, Buck! If they don't recognize us as pack, then the rules are gone, right? And if they hurt her, it's my fault."

"I know how you feel, kid," Buck said, his voice so rich with pain that JD couldn't help but feel it. "But it wouldn't be your fault even if something did happen. Besides, nothin's gonna happen to Casey. They've only had her maybe half an hour, and they spent most of that time running. You said yourself that she's fine now, and the one they're gonna think of as a threat is Vin. Worry about Vin, if you have to worry about somebody. Better yet, worry about being ready when we decide how to get them out. You've got--" Buck's head cocked, and he frowned. "Horses coming in," he said thoughtfully. Buck sniffed, and his frown deepened. "We're upwind. Let's get back to the others."

The horses carried three Two-Bloods, one of whom had actually wished him well; Georgia's flying red hair, he could have spotted miles away. The other two, he didn't know much about. Seth was younger, and had stuck to Georgia like glue. The other female looked to be Lila, Red Stone's lieutenant. They rode in fast, obviously scenting their own and Buck's people, and Buck hurried his steps, not realizing how far he had walked to get JD talking. He was maybe fifty yards behind Chris and approaching with ground-eating strides, JD trotting along at his side, and so his view was perfect as the Two-Bloods' horses rapidly closed the gap, as Chris calmly shouldered his rifle, and shot Georgia.

"Shit!" he cursed, shocked. What the-- "Chris, don't!" he yelled and broke into a run, just as the second shot reported and Seth toppled out of the saddle. Lila jerked her mount into the low scrub oaks and out of Chris' line of fire as Georgia finally lost her seat, but Chris had already brought his rifle down.

Josiah stayed with the horses, keeping an eye on the mouth of the canyon, and Buck caught up to Chris and Nathan as they reached Georgia. She had just levered to a sitting position and had her right hand pressed against a profusely bleeding shoulder wound. The jacket was torn and ragged at the left shoulder, and a stain of blood soaked into the white starched shirt beneath. "You fools," she snarled, "I was coming to stop them!"

CHAPTER 26

"Well let's see what we c'n do about stoppin' that bleeding first, Miss Georgia," Nathan said, automatically looking to what he could fix instead of what he couldn't. This couldn't get much worse, he figured, unless one of these Two-Bloods died. And maybe he could do something to prevent that. "Anybody see where the boy fell?" He asked as he pried her hand away, ignoring her threatening looks--he was well practiced at that, with this bunch--and carefully unbuttoned the jacket.

"Get to him," Georgia ordered.

The War had hammered home the lesson too many times; you didn't give up on the living, not for a body maybe cooling and dead in the underbrush. "We will, ma'am. But right now, I'm gonna take out somethin' ta cut this shirt off you, so we can see how bad you're hit," he said, fairly certain that pulling out a knife without announcing it first would get him mauled, gunshot wound or no gunshot wound.

In answer, she leaned forward and growled, "A woman riding in underclothes draws attention; just slide them off, I'm fine." Nathan cast a look from her to Buck, who stood in quiet conference with Chris. These two really did share blood.

Shrugging, he unbuttoned the shirt so he could take off both layers together. One quick tug cleared both shirt and jacket over the ball of her shoulder, and she swayed briefly, lips going white with the pain. Chris' rifle bullet hadn't gone clean through, but her back was badly bruised in the right place, and a blister on the skin led him to poke carefully around. The bullet or a piece of bone was less than an inch beneath the skin; he hoped it was the bullet. "Looks like it went right through the meat, but let me make sure you ain't got no bones broken in there."

"I don't, everything moves."

"Moves with no pain?" he asked, wondering if she'd tell him the truth even as he massaged along the smooth line of her collarbone.

"Other than the pain from where that idiot playing alpha shot me, you mean?" she offered, sarcastic.

He cast a covert glance to Chris, who was still arguing in low tones with Buck, and thanked the Lord Chris hadn't heard that. "First we're gonna have to get that bullet out. It feels real close to the skin back there, so I'm just gonna cut a little tiny hole and pull it out the way it wanted to come. All right?"

"No. Staunch this and get to Seth," she ordered.

Chris loomed suddenly over them both. "Nathan, patch her up first. We need her."

"You need Lila," Georgia growled up at Chris, and her eyes spit fire just like Buck's could, on occasion. "And she's not stupid enough to ride into the end of your rifle barrel."

"Like you were?" Chris said dryly, and Nathan had to physically restrain Georgia to keep her from getting her feet under her.

"Obviously," she said to Chris through white lips, "I had too much faith in Buck's judgment."

"You want to pass out, you just keep fightin' me and lose some more blood afore I c'n fix this," Nathan warned her.

"Who the hell is Lila?" Chris demanded.

"Buck, get me that kit out of my saddlebag," Nathan said, paying the power struggle only the tiniest bit of attention. Buck turned immediately to JD and ordered him to do it.

"I would suspect," Georgia said, looking from Chris to Buck to the running JD, "that she's something like Buck has relegated himself to be for you people. My pack mates in there, and this... excursion... were her responsibility."

"Then she ain't nothin' like Buck," Nathan told her harshly as he pressed her balled-up shirt against the entry wound and continued to check her bones with his free hand. Her chest was slick with blood, and the stain of it spread down her white satin chemise even as he watched. "Cause Buck don't go attacking innocent people."

"You're telling me John approved this attack?" Chris snarled from behind him, and Nathan worried that Chris would reach right past him to shake the answers out of her.

"No," she said through gritted teeth. Disturbing the wound sent little shakes through her body that Nathan could feel through his palms. He steadied her with a gentle hold while he waited for JD to return with his medical tools. "John encouraged a... reconnaissance of sorts, a..."

"A game," Buck whispered, his quiet voice tight with rage. "It was a God damned training exercise, wasn't it, Georgia? Wasn't it!"

The shoulder that shoved Nathan away wasn't Chris', but Buck's, and he found himself on his behind before he could think to complain. "Buck!" he said, even as Buck reached for Georgia.

"Buck!" Chris snapped, right at the same time. "Get off her!"

Dazed, Nathan just stared as Buck ricocheted around like a ball on a string, to yell right into Chris' face, "He loosed them on us! We were the rabbits, and Lila was using us to teach 'em hunting techniques!"

Nathan twitched with old fear. They were prey to these Two-Bloods?

"No," she grated, watching Chris carefully, "not exactly. They weren't to attack, they weren't to capture or injure anyone." She tilted her chin toward the canyon mouth. "Lucas is in there. He is still young, but thinks he's not. Lila misjudged his anger, and the loyalty he engendered from the others. He'll lead his own pack one day, and he... rebelled against her authority.

"Lila told us what happened, Buck," Georgia said, turning to Buck even as JD ran up with the medical bag. Nathan replaced his hand with JD's to keep pressure on the wound, and dug into his bag for alcohol, razor, long-pointed tweezers and clean rags. "She couldn't stop Lucas from the chase."

"This is gonna hurt," he warned, and her eyes narrowed disdainfully at him. It was like reading a book while watching a bawdy play: his thoughts ran skittishly around the task at hand and the fight going on above him, and every few seconds an imagined picture of Vin or Casey flashed in his mind's eye. They could be hurt or dead, right this minute. He wiped the tools, and his and JD's hands with alcohol-soaked cloth, and cut an incision in her shoulder, right through the blister. "JD, use that cloth, and try to keep the blood out of the way back here."

"What about the others?" Buck grated.

Georgia, the added pain evident in her cinched-tight voice, said faintly, "After one of you shot Victoria, you gave Bennett into Lucas' control; Victoria and he are mated. And Arrah is the youngest. She'll follow the one who leads."

"Anybody wanna tell me why they were so stupid as to chase people with rifles?" Chris asked of no one in particular, but Buck just kicked at the ground.

"Damn it!" Buck cursed. "Damn it! This is John's fault, every bit of it!"

Chris watched events spinning further and further out of control. Nathan and JD were the only two of them not standing around with their thumbs up their asses, and that had to stop right now. "Shut up, Buck!" he ordered, but while his tone was harsh, he reached out and slid his hand around Buck's neck, staring hard into those wild blue eyes. Come on, Buck, he willed into his friend, settle down and stay with me. Whatever passed between them, it worked. Buck calmed down almost immediately, and turned away to stare out over the hills in stony silence.

Their only hope lay in action, and quick before the Two-Bloods in that canyon got any dumber. "Nathan, you get Georgia patched up. Buck, you go find Seth and fetch him back. And you," he pointed an accusing finger at Georgia, "you call Lila out of hiding."

Georgia shocked the hell out of him by tipping her head back and letting out a few low, throaty notes, definitely more like song than the howling Buck had scared them with, and pitched quietly. "She'll come in now, if she will," Georgia said groggily.

Chris stood, the rage inside hardening him like granite, until not even his eyes moved. There was nothing for the leader to do but wait for the led, and damn it, he hated waiting. He didn't know how much time passed before Buck walked into his field of vision with Seth--young, big-eyed, Chris remembered now--awkwardly slung over his left shoulder. The Two-Blood looked a hell of a lot younger, unconscious and carried like a sack of grain. And small, he looked so small.

Just then, Nathan said from behind him, "Bullet's out," and he turned to look. The flattened metal, dark and sticky and caked with something meatier than blood, lay in JD's open palm. Nathan had already pulled out a short, curved needle, which he threaded as Chris watched.

"Looks real clean, Chris," JD said, sounding surprised. "I never saw a bullet come so close to going all the way through but still left inside, before."

"That's better than this one," Buck mumbled, and Georgia's eyes took on a wild cast.

"See to him!" she urged again, and tried to jerk her injured shoulder away from Nathan's hands.

Chris pressed a restraining palm to Nathan's shoulder, holding him in place. "Finish that sewing first. At least close the hole you already started on. JD, take Nathan's razor and cut the boy's shirt off. Help Buck get any bleeding stopped."

"I ain't gonna be two minutes, ma'am," Nathan said quietly. "No sense lettin' both of you be worse off'n you need to be."

Nathan, intent on his work, poured a little alcohol directly on the new hole in Georgia's back. She groaned, and her red curls shook, revealing the tremors that ran through her alongside the pain. "Hold still, now," Nathan said absently, and pinched the flesh closed. Every muscle in Georgia's body tensed, and when Nathan made the first pass with the needle, her head lolled forward an inch and her eyes started to roll up in her head.

"Don't you even think about passing out now," Chris ordered flatly. "You said you came here to stop them, so you're gonna go in there and stop them."

"You really are a fool," Georgia sneered. "The winds here will change as the sun goes down. If they haven't smelled my blood already, they will soon. You'll be lucky if your friends in there survive until dusk."

The world went out of focus, red flames licking the edges of his vision. He didn't realize he had moved until he felt her weight hanging limply from his clenched fists. Her face went white and her mouth flattened into a grim line of pain. "No, you'll be lucky if my friends survive. 'Cause if either one of 'em's dead, every single one of those Two-Bloods is dead, do you understand me? Then we go after the rest of your worthless, useless pack until we've killed them all."

Her eyes rounded in blank astonishment. "You'd kill Buck's brothers and sisters? His cousins?"

"You still don't understand, you bitch. We're Buck's brothers now, we're his family. Not you, not them. Us!" Nathan's big hands finally registered, squeezing his wrists so tightly his hands wanted to go numb.

"Chris! Let her go, now. C'mon, let her go."

Chris unflexed his fingers and unceremoniously dropped her to the ground. Forcing himself to be satisfied by her small grunt of pain, he took a step back to remove himself from temptation and ran squarely into Buck. Buck stared down at him with eyes so filled with quiet devotion, Chris thought he might drown in them. Buck had obviously hung on every word, and nothing else needed to be said. The look alone calmed him, and in it they promised each other more than a million words could ever say.

Josiah's thin, warning whistle jerked his attention painfully away. Lila approached on foot, straightening when all eyes turned to her, her hands open and empty at her sides. She slowed, wary, but kept walking until she was just a few feet from Georgia. Her gaze dropped immediately to her injured pack mates. "Will they be--"

"What can you do to save Vin and Casey?" Chris grated, leaving Georgia to Nathan's care and turning on his next hope of everyone's survival.

"You shot Georgia," Lila said stiffly. "You shot Seth. And now you're asking for my help?"

"They wouldn't have been here to get shot, if you all hadn't sent people back against my express orders," he retorted. "Now, did you come here to get the others out of our territory alive, or didn't you?" Behind him, vaguely, he heard the tiny sounds Georgia couldn't keep back as Nathan worked on her, and the soft sound of JD's voice as he whispered to Seth.

"I did," she admitted, but she was giving nothing away.

"Then what the hell are you gonna do?"

Seth chose that moment to come awake with a pitiful whimper, and both Georgia and Lila's heads turned sharply. "Help him!" Lila snapped at Nathan, in a tone that sounded like it was used to being obeyed. Nathan actually started to rise.

"You," Chris pointed at Lila, "you ain't the boss around here. Nathan, is Georgia patched up?"

"We're gonna have to clean out that entry wound, but I'm finished sewing back here," he said carefully, and cut the thread with a tiny scissors. "If I pack the entry wound, that oughtta slow the bleeding enough, for now." Chris noted that there was no further promise in Nathans' tone, and felt his stomach twist with fear. If one of these Two-Bloods died by his hand, there would be a war that no one could stop.

"All right, see about Seth." He nodded warily to Lila.

Nathan stepped over to the younger Two-Blood, and knelt down beside him. After a moment he looked up and shrugged a shoulder, and Chris felt the weight of the world settle down on him; his bullet might've been too true. "He looks real bad, Chris. His bone's all busted up, and I think he's lost a lot more blood than Georgia."

"Help him!" the two women hissed in concert.

"Do what you can, Nathan," Chris said evenly. To the women he snapped, "Now help us save your young-uns in there, because I swear to God they'll all be dead if they harm one of ours."

Lila looked from him to Georgia, who barely nodded. She sounded helpful for the very first time. "They're... they're cubs," she said, glancing warily from Georgia to the near-unconscious Seth, watching nervously as Nathan began to work.

"What are you talking about?"

"They aren't mature no matter that they think they are. I think... I think we might bully them into submission. I'm afraid Lucas might kill one of yours in a show of force, if I ride in alone. Probably, he'd kill the male first." Her eyes darted to Georgia again, whose energy seemed entirely spent on staying awake. "Georgia? If I went in there with these men, and if this, this...alpha--that is, do you think these One-Bloods and I could win Lucas' submission?"

"One-Bloods?" Georgia repeated faintly. "Not... not likely."

Chris made a decision. "JD, tell Josiah to try and round up their horses, and get ours ready, then go fetch Ezra down off the ridge. Nathan, you stay here with the injured and see if you can save him." He tried to ignore the women's indrawn breath. "We all go in together. Now, before the wind changes. Georgia," he snapped as the others turned to their tasks, "can you ride?"

"I don't..." she drew in a long breath, "I..."

"God damn it, can you ride or can't you?" he shouted.

Georgia flinched, and a wan smile spread across her mouth. "I can ride."

Buck bumped his shoulder, and only then did he realize how close they still stood to each other. "I can help better in my other form," he said quietly. Chris grimaced; Buck was probably right. These Two-Bloods had little respect for human beings, but they respected their wolf shapes clearly enough.

"You think you can…" he paused, swallowed. This wasn't the time to get squeamish, not while his nerves tightened to rope-like tension, and the world was slowing down for the fight. "You think you can make the change, without hurting yourself more? You ain't gonna be able to walk, are you?" Buck glanced down at himself, and Chris nudged him gently. "The truth, Buck," he whispered. "You need to be telling me the truth. I can't afford to be worrying about you, too, right now."

Buck's mouth tightened into a thin line, but he nodded. "I've never had anything hurt by the change. Injuries just, I don't know, they translate, between forms. I'll ride in on Steele, so I won't have to use this arm any more'n I have to," he said, glancing in disgust to his dislocated shoulder, "and change there."

This was a hard time for Chris to be reminded of what Buck really was, of what his too-long-held secret had brought down on them. "Fine," he grated. "You and Lila are gonna chase off whoever's on Vin and Casey, and keep them safe."

"We ain't gonna fail because of me," Buck said intently. "I promise." They shared a look that said maybe too much, but Buck just lifted his chin. "Now help me get outta these clothes."

Chris was glad to have something to do while everyone else made ready. He stripped off Buck's hat and shirt. The bandages, he was careful with, and he watched Buck closely for signs of too much pain that he might try to hide.

"Don't forget the stitches over here," Buck reminded. "We leave 'em in, they'll tear things to pieces and leave a big ol' scar."

Chris commandeered scissors from a frowning Nathan, carefully cut the tiny threads, and tugged them out, checking the wound for puss or other signs of infection. "Looks like it's got enough of a start healin'," he observed, glad when the flesh didn't try to pull open. He reached for Buck's fly next, and Buck gently blocked his hands.

"Just unbutton 'em, and I'll get my boots off," he said, his voice cool and distant; he was hurting already. "I'll slip right out of them when I change."

Chris swallowed hard. "Why don't we just take 'em off?"

Buck's grin lit up as brilliant as the sun, the look so achingly familiar, Chris took comfort from it. "Obviously, you ain't ever had to rub your jewels against saddle leather at a gallop, before."

Chris tried not to flinch at the image. "What about them stitches inside?"

Nathan, still working furiously over Seth, answered. "They's catgut, they's probably already half-dissolved. They'll give 'afore the muscle does. That's why I been tellin' him ta go so easy on that arm."

JD trotted up with Ezra close on his heels. When Ezra asked no questions, Chris knew JD had already filled him in. JD wasn't so compliant. "What's Buck doing half-naked?" he demanded

"I'm gonna make the change, once we get in there, JD," Buck explained. "It'll scare 'em more, that way."

"Scares me more," JD said uncomfortably.

"JD, Buck's other form will remind them of the rules they've broken, and that they should be affording us the respect they'd show any other pack." Ezra's voice, smooth as good whiskey and calm as a still lake, washed over them all, and Chris was grateful to Ezra for keeping JD in check.

"Uh, yeah," he frowned "That makes sense."

Chris didn't have time for this. "Nathan," he ordered, "you keep an ear out. Help that boy, but if you think something went wrong in there, you high tail it out. You hear me?"

"I hear ya."

Chris had no more faith that Nathan would abandon a patient--or his friends-- than he did that John Doe wouldn't track down and pull the hearts out of every single one of his men left standing if something went wrong. With his eyes, he gathered his people and the reluctant women up. They all turned toward the canyon mouth, and the copse of trees where Josiah had tied the horses. Josiah returned with two others, Georgia's and Seth's.

Lila stepped up, taking the horses' reins from him. "Champion, we'll leave here. Georgia, take Bill and keep this form, and stay close to Larabee. I'll change and run in with you all. He's right," she added, asiding a glare Chris' way, "I'll need to get the guards off the hostages."

Chris forced out a long breath. There was no real cooperation here. "It don't matter what we think of each other," he said stiffly, untying Steele and wrapping his reins around the saddle horn for Buck. "All that matters is that we've got the same goal, and that's keeping everyone in there alive. Just one goes down, on either side, we all know we've got a war on our hands that nobody wants."

Georgia looked pained. Lila nodded soberly. "At least we agree on that," she said.

Chris looked around as his men saddled up and fanned out with easy precision. Lila stripped off her clothes hurriedly and JD, the only one who seemed to notice, blushed and looked away. Buck stepped up close, into the space between Steele and Chris' body. Chris couldn't forget why Buck was half naked. He couldn't forget that Buck would do what Lila was doing now, and he couldn't stop the shiver as he watched her change before his eyes in less time than it took to blink. Horses jumped and tossed their heads. Buck whuffed out a breath of air, and Chris looked up into eyes he knew better than his own.

This was how he'd have felt if he had gotten back to his ranch before Cletus Fowler and his henchmen lit the torches. This was what it felt like to fight not for money, nor for anger nor honor, but for the most important thing in the world. Impulsively, he hugged Buck hard, pressing his fingers into the bare flesh under his hands. Right now, he didn't care why the man was half-naked, or what Buck would look like in two minutes. He just cared that Buck was beside him.

"What the hell am I s'posed to do in there?" he barely whispered, as he drew away.

Buck chuckled. "Just be yourself, pard. But don't kill nobody."

Chris bit back a curse. "Mount up," he said gruffly, and stepped back, lacing his hands for a bare, warm foot.

"Chris…" the hand on his shoulder felt like a brand. He didn't look up.

"Not now," he breathed, staring hard at the ground. Please, not now.

Buck sighed, and slid the ball of his foot into the cup of Chris' hand, and Chris legged him up astride Steele. He grabbed Pony's reins, tested the cinch, and swung up himself. Either the men or the horses showed incredible sense; Josiah, JD and Ezra stood beside each other in a row, leaving a wide gap between the mounted Georgia and the wolf that paced beyond her, into which Buck kneed Steele. Reining Pony into the space Buck left him, he looked at Ezra and gave the order: "Let's go."

The horses, as used to working together as the men astride them, leapt forward as one. Chris looked left and right to witness the set of his men's faces. Georgia, beyond Buck, looked white, and he just prayed she didn't pass out before this was over. Lila ran alongside them, far enough to Steele's right that her presence didn't spook the other horses. They moved fast, galloping into the canyon mouth to ride down the renegade cubs in under a minute. He spotted the leader, Lucas, right away. In human shape, dressed, he looked like a rabbit caught staring at a snake. Good.

Lila put on a burst of speed, outpacing the horses, and Chris spared a moment to watch her flank the intruders on the far right, and skid to a halt, barking viciously and with fangs bared in a way he'd rather not ever see again.

When Buck jerked Steele up short, the damned horse almost sat back on his hindquarters to stop on a dime. Buck dropped the reins and kicked a leg over, somehow wriggling out of his pants and changing at the same time. Pony didn't even twitch his ears, and out of nowhere came the image of Buck's broadest twinkling-eyed smile, and the handing over of Pony's halter lead on Chris' wedding day.

Dancer and Maverick jerked and shied away, but Ezra and JD were already on the ground, and Chris realized he was going to fall behind the action again if he wasn't careful.

"Don't you do it!" Georgia bellowed, and Chris looked to see whom her words were directed at. A Two-Blood in human form, shoulder bandaged so she must be the one Ezra had shot, reached toward a rifle as he turned to watch.

"You gonna take a coward's way out of this, or are you gonna obey your own damned laws?" he yelled, slapping Pony with the reins to get him out of the way. Steele just stood there, ears pricked forward eight feet behind Buck, and watched the show. Buck, even holding up his front paw, looked huge and majestic and damned terrifying, his hackles thick and bristling, his puffed-up tail pointing straight up in the air, nose wrinkled up tight to bare wicked-looking teeth.

They had themselves a Mexican standoff. Chris spared a glance to the captives, where Vin still lay on his back, giving the animal above him no reason to bite, but had turned his head to watch. And Casey--Chris blanched. Casey's eyes were as round as silver dollars, glued on Buck, and she looked ready to faint. She'd seen everything, and their dangerous secret had just become that much more dangerous.

"You were the one who said you'd shoot us where we stood, Larabee," Lucas said, with as much bluster as genuine pride.

He'd worry about Casey later. "Well I'm here now, and you don't see me holding no guns on you," he said, voice even and quiet. Victoria kept her gaze locked on Georgia, eyes growing doubtful, and slowly her hand dropped to her side. Chris moved slowly himself, unbuckling his gun belt and carefully lowering it to the ground. All the horses except Steele had cleared away a bit in the bustle, and Buck had stalked over beside Lila; her stance was less aggressive than alert, and she watched every move with cold eyes.

And when the hell had he figured out what all these looks meant, anyway?

From Buck, obviously, who mimicked this behavior even in a man's shape, who stood now on four skinny dog legs and bared a mouth full of pointed canine fangs. Buck. Buck… Well, there was one useful way to vent his rage.

"You want me?" he challenged, feeling a tight, joyful grin cross his face. "Well, here I am." Chris walked straight up to him, as casually as to a stranger whose hand he was about to shake, and without a word, without breaking stride, belted Lucas so hard he fell to the ground. The young stud scrambled away, while Buck and Lila rushed Casey and Vin. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris watched Buck shove the smaller wolf away from Casey and step right over her, straddling her hips and growling at the young Two-Blood like some rabid animal. Good lord, he was going to scare that girl to death. Lila leapt on the bigger wolf and bowled him over and off Vin, and then all Chris had time for was his own fight.

Lucas launched himself and Chris was ready; they hit the ground hard and rolled. Chris concentrated on blows to the belly, face and head, while Lucas did what Vin had predicted, and tried to break his arms. Fat chance of that, the kid wasn't that much bigger than him and sure as hell didn't know as much about barefist fighting. But then he felt a tightness in the air, and a tingle like distant electricity danced along his front, and he found himself holding an armful of loose fabric and pissed-off wolf that opened wide jaws and showed him about eight thousand pointed canine teeth. Now he was the one scrabbling away, while Lucas wriggled out of torn clothes and pressed the advantage. They aren't animals, he repeated to himself, over and over. When Lucas got that deadly mouth too close to any part of him, Chris threw upper cuts, forcing the jaws to impact together. His most fervent hope was that the bastard would limp out of here with a lot fewer and shorter teeth.

He had just managed to shove away from him and was cursing himself for not wearing a knife, when a rifle shot cracked through the air. He almost pissed himself, the sound frightened him so badly. Who had fired, who was dead? Who would die next when Red Stone came hunting, or would it be Four Corners on the hunt?

But it was Georgia who held the rifle, and even as he crawled to his knees, he heard the cocking of pistols: JD, Ezra, Josiah. "Nobody shoot!" he yelled, panicked. No one was dead yet, and so they might all survive. The three Two-Blood cubs squirmed almost on their bellies, ears back, tails curled all the way in between their legs. They were totally cowed by the aggression, backed up as it was by their own pack seniors. Only Lucas still wanted the fight; he postured even now with his jaws wide open. It was Lila who put an end to the confrontation. She leapt through the air and hit him solidly on the shoulder, knocking him sideways and tearing into him until he whimpered like a kicked dog and blood flowed from too many small wounds.

Lila changed again and, naked, she sat astride Lucas' midriff and punched him one more time across the muzzle. Chris would have winced in sympathy for the young man-wolf, if he didn't want so badly to be the one doling out the punishment.

Breathing hard, Chris carefully balled his fists and squared his shoulders back. "Ain't none of us gotta die," he called to all of them. "We don't want to kill you, but if a drop of Four Corners blood is spilled, you can bet we will." He looked to each person on both sides, made eye contact with all but Lila, who still glared down at Lucas, and Lucas, who whined and looked at the ground. He couldn't say that Casey looked back; her eyes were still round and white, her face almost as white, and lax with shock. She'd be a problem, all right. Vin looked all right, his head barely raised to look around and take in the scene.

Buck took two hopping steps back from her and changed to his natural shape. He looked pretty damned pale himself as he sat back on his bare ass and leaned toward Vin.

"Buck!" JD hissed, holstering his gun and making everyone jump when he broke formation and ran up to Steele. Steele shifted his hooves nervously for the first time in all this mess, and threatened to back away, but JD just grabbed Buck's discarded trousers from the ground and trotted over to him, hissing, "Get your clothes on!"

"What?" Buck glanced over his shoulder, looking as confused as Chris felt by the ridiculous outburst, then chuckled as JD stepped between him and Casey. Chris kept an eye on the unguarded wolves on the ground as JD tossed Buck's trousers over his exposed crotch and glowered. Chris couldn't believe JD would holster his gun so that Casey wouldn't have to see Buck's dick wave in the wind. As if Buck sitting there looking like a regular person naked was the worst thing Casey had seen this day. How the hell had someone JD's age stayed so damned young?

"Georgia?" he grated, still far too tense for words.

She looked over at him and, even as he watched, melted slowly to her knees. "None of my people will give you trouble or they'll answer to me personally," she ordered harshly. She blinked. Her face went bloodless. "As soon as I wake up." And as simply as that, she fell sideways to the ground.

CHAPTER 27

Lila growled deep in her throat and punched Lucas again. "See what you've done?" she snapped at him. Bennett and Arrah whined, and crawled slowly toward Georgia. "She's fine," Lila assured. "See to her."

As quick as that, it was over. Victoria reached Georgia's unconscious body first, and Bennett and Arrah skidded up on four legs beside her. Bennett leaned heavily against Victoria's uninjured side and licked Georgia's cheek and jaw, while Arrah changed into a woman's form and curled up against her.

Chris checked on Josiah and Ezra, who had already holstered their weapons but remained on the alert, then walked to where Buck knelt beside Vin. "You all right?" he asked, the tension only slowly unwinding. Buck looked nauseated. A glance to Vin took in the fact that he was both blooded and shaken, but all in one piece.

"I'm fine," Buck said shortly.

Vin read the fear on Chris' face and the pain on Buck's, and tested his limbs, as he hadn't been able to before; every time he'd so much as drawn too deep a breath, Bennett or Lucas had lunged on, pummeled or bitten him. Every move had been designed to put him in his place, and his body still cringed, expecting some other blow, bite, threat. With Casey crying near him, he'd had no choice but to surrender.

Hah. Good joke there. With or without Casey, his options had been to die, and kill this thing barely born between them all, or expose his belly and balls and submit, and hope somebody would think of a way out of this mess. Looked like he'd made the right choice, but that fact wasn't getting past his brain and down his spine to tell his gut the good news.

He looked toward the panicked Casey, who chittered like a ferret in the circle of JD's arms. It had been damned hard to watch them frighten her, terrifying to watch them let her witness the change more than once, because he couldn't imagine them letting her live, after she'd seen that. It had been harder, maybe, to have to lie there and watch them taunt her, and be able to do sweet fuck-all about it.

He reached a hand to his bare throat, grateful still to have it, and to be alive; the tiny indentations of teeth, where Bennett had just stood and held open jaws on him, lined each side of his windpipe. Relief would come, he knew, and with it the shakes and who knew what else. "I'm all right," he added, though he wasn't sure he'd been asked, and rolled gingerly to his side to curl around Buck. Buck was probably panicking, right about now. Everyone had seen him, and not just as an example. They had really seen him, all hostile primal force and bared teeth and violence. "It's okay, Buck," he joked feebly. "You're just as nasty on two legs, and they've seen that often enough."

Buck startled him by laughing out loud and falling backward to the ground beside him.

"Y'all ridin' in like that," Vin said, an answering faint and uncontrollable laughter bubbling up from deep inside, "now that was something ta watch, from underneath a wolf's belly!"

Vin looked up, found Chris' eyes darting between him and Buck, obviously trying to decide why he saddled himself with lunatics. It did look awful dumb, he conceded, him lying here by a naked Two-Blood laughing with something approaching hysteria. Chris looked like he wanted to hit him. Well, fighting did different things to different people; the very last thing on Vin's mind was hitting anybody. He wanted a bath, a drink, a fuck, some time alone. He didn't expect he'd be getting any of those things, any time soon. "C'mon, Buck," he said, crawling unsteadily to his feet. "C'mon, I feel like I oughtta let Nate see to me."

Chris' hand, hard as an iron band around his biceps, stopped him cold. "You need Nathan?" he asked, eyes searching.

Vin barely shook his head, and cast his eyes down to where Buck still lay pale and laughing.

"Buck!" Chris ordered. "Get Vin to Nathan. I want him checked out, top to bottom."

"I'll--I'll check him--" Buck was wheezing too hard to get the joke out, and Vin tensed on his behalf; better he not finish what he'd obviously started to say.

He nudged Buck's bare thigh with his boot tip. "C'mon, Buck. I need help." As Buck slowly brought himself back under control, Vin asked Chris, "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing," he answered brusquely. "Me and the boys'll stay here, make sure Lila can keep Lucas under control until Georgia wakes back up. We'll catch up to you two in a little bit."

"'Fore the sun sets, or we'll come lookin' for ya," Vin said in measured tones. He turned to help Buck up off the ground and into his pants as Chris strode away.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Nathan kept one ear open and tilted toward the mouth of the canyon. The rifle shot had frightened him badly, but there hadn't been any others. Nathan guessed, rightly or wrongly, that if one of theirs had been shot, then a whole storm of gunshots would have followed. So he kept working on the boy, glad the patient was unconscious; the collarbone was broken into pieces, and he didn't have much choice but to pour alcohol over the broken skin, cut through carefully, and stick things back together. It wasn't too bad, really, just gory as all get-out; that was the real worry, that Seth would just bleed out.

The cleanest break was greenstick, so he used a needle and tongs to pass cotton thread beneath it and hold the broken ends together. The bad end was nearer the shoulder, where the bullet had obviously hit and taken a good half-inch of bone fragments into the meat behind. He thought hard, and finally decided to try and put it back together somehow. He grabbed a thin leather strip and eased it under a broken end of the bone, then picked up his tweezers to dig out and pull back the biggest chunks he could see. Seth's forehead went glossy with sweat, even unconscious like he was, and Nathan bit his lip in frustration.

If only he was a real doctor! And how many times would he have to think that before he did something about it and apprenticed with a skilled surgeon? He hadn't known real doctors personally since the War, but after today, he was going to find himself one.

The leather acted a little like a bowl around the back of the break, and he tied each end tightly to the healthy bone with string, hoping to keep the ends aligned until things could mend.

Wouldn't do a damned bit of good if this boy listened like his own people did. But it was better than leaving it alone and guaranteeing Seth would never walk on all fours again.

The thought had struck him hard, the fact that he'd even had it, harder. Working on these creatures, Buck being one of these creatures, Josiah and JD and Vin and everybody else in there right now, fighting these creatures so maybe he'd be working on more of them in the coming hours--it was just wrong. He couldn't let that thought go by without getting all tangled up in the truth of it. His talk with Josiah had helped, not about these animals but about his own role, his own responsibilities to the men he'd called friends and now, family. It was his job to look after them, his job to heal them when he could, keep them safe, protect them from any dangers, natural or human… and he was doing that. He was.

He just still didn't think he agreed with it.

Seth moaned in his sleep. Anxiously, Nathan looked through his bag to find something, anything to keep those two bone pieces together. He wondered--maybe. Maybe.

When he heard the hoofbeats, he had already fashioned one of his little curved needles, and was just beginning to tap it through one end of the bone. He looked up, to find Vin loping in on Dancer. "Nathan!" he called out. Damn. Someone else was hurt.

Vin reined in and slid off JD's horse, a few feet away. "I need something to wrap Buck's shoulder up with. Ya got any clean bandages?"

"Use the ones from before. How he doing?"

Vin laughed a little manically. "Hurtin' like hell, on Steele and walking this way. He can't keep his shoulder steady astride, though, and after 'bout the fifth time he swore up a blue streak, I told him to let me go on ahead."

Nathan jerked his shoulder toward the pile of Buck's things. "Use them bandages Chris took off, they's in that pile right there. Peso's over with the other horses, if you want him. Don't wrap the bandages too tight, or you'll keep the blood from moving." He used the flat of a tong and worked slowly and carefully as he spoke. "Don't leave it too loose, or it won't do no good."

"Thanks, Nate. How's the boy doin'?"

Nathan watched his hands come slowly to a halt, watched the dark skin against the dark bloody flesh, and the finger where it lay against the marrow side of the bone. "One thing at a time," he forced out, in a reasonably calm voice. "Everybody in there all right?"

"Yeah. It's over. Lila's back in charge of her people, JD's trying to keep Casey from getting hysterical, and Georgia finally passed out. They'll come out as soon as she's able to ride."

"Least somebody's doin' something right," he muttered.

A hand touched his shoulder, squeezed gently. "You're doin' fine, Nate. He's still breathing, ain't he?"

Nathan was making it up as he went--sticking metal bits through live bones, what kind of fool doctoring was that? "Go on, now," he said, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before Vin's hand left him. "You get Buck took care of, that's one less person I got ta worry about right now."

"Just do your best," Vin urged.

Nathan ground his teeth together. His best was all he had, and too many times before, it hadn't been enough.

CHAPTER 28

The sun touched the horizon with a near-audible sizzle, and Josiah sparked a second fire before its glowing disc disappeared completely. Sunset, like sunrise, was a time most precious to him, for its color and contrast and the covenant that promised another tomorrow would follow. Nathan had been so concentrated on Seth that Josiah had taken it upon himself to clean and bandage the deepest of Vin's bite wounds. None of them were too serious, and Vin had immediately ridden off to let Nettie know Casey was safe, and borrow her buckboard.

Both JD and Buck had volunteered, but Chris pointed out that Vin was the one most likely able to convince Nettie not to come back with him. And that had settled that.

Now, they all simply waited--for Vin to return, for Nathan to finish up whatever it was he was doing to Seth, for JD to succeed or not in calming Casey, for the Two-Bloods who sat quietly huddled outside the circles of light cast by the fires to make any move at all. Chris had requested--politely, considering the circumstances--that Lila keep everyone in their two-legged form, and together and quiet. Lila had agreed--politely, considering the circumstances--at least for as long as Seth remained alive and Nathan held hope. Only Arrah was permitted near any member of the Seven; she had taken it upon himself to hold Seth upright and keep him still as the surgery progressed.

"They won't, you know," Buck said, so close and so quiet that Josiah knew he'd just sprouted new gray hairs.

"Buck, you have to stop sneakin' up like that."

"Sorry," Buck said, and eased to the ground with a grunt. "Them Two-Bloods, they won't start another fight on their own, I don't think. If John really didn't send them kids back to kill us all, then Lila won't start that ball rolling until they talk to him."

"That's a comfort," Josiah replied, smiling slightly.

"How's Nate doin'?" Buck asked after a minute, looking toward the fire Nathan had claimed for his surgery. They had sat Seth up after the first experimental anchoring of bone to bone, and the blood flow had slowed reassuringly. Nathan still worked, but Seth kept waking up now, and the howls and mewls of pain, while human, spoke far more loudly of the animal in every man.

"Don't know. I figured he'd tell us, when there's something to know."

"Yeah." Buck nodded slowly, soberly. "Yeah." The silence stretched stiffly, like cooling taffy, between them. "Lila says he's my first cousin."

"That a fact?"

"Yeah. Seems strange, how I keep forgetting that."

"I expect things are too close, Buck…"

"They ain't ever got closer than they were when my daddy killed my mama. That's as close as people c'n get, don't you think?"

There was no answer for the dull pain in Buck's quiet voice. Josiah reached a gentle hand and touched Buck's back, just resting it there.

"You reckon them Two-Bloods got any coffee, anywhere?" he asked eventually.

Buck nodded immediately. "It's in Georgia's saddlebags."

"Think she'd mind if I helped myself to it? I'm thinking Nate could use some, maybe Chris and the others."

"I don't care if she'd mind or not. If I'd been thinking straight, I'd've fetched it for Nate myself."

"You all right, Buck?"

Buck looked over at him, and though the friendly face had gone shadowed and faded with the onset of dusk, Josiah had the impression that those eyes read every line and detail of his own. "I'm alive. All of you are alive. I'm all right."

For Buck, Josiah mused, it really was as simple as that.

Josiah shook his head and moved off toward the horses. He had a lot to learn from this man, about simplicity.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

An hour or so later, after full dark had set but before the moon rose, Buck heard the unmistakeable sound of water on dry leaves, and smelled the acrid odor of Josiah's urine. He straightened a little, automatically, to hide the aches and pains. Josiah couldn't do anything but worry. Josiah approached, stepped carefully over Buck's outstretched thighs and sat down beside him, then unslung a canteen-turned-coffee pot from around his neck.

"Want some?" he asked, extending it in offering. Buck had smelled it already; the man had ruined that good coffee within five minutes. It would be thick and black as tar. He resisted a shudder; Vin and Josiah were each as bad as the other, and he often wondered why they didn't simply cheek the coffee grounds like a plug of tobacco.

"No."

Josiah stretched, bones crackling as they often did when the big man adjusted his frame. "How you feelin'?"

"Cross-eyed," Buck admitted.

"You hurting much?"

He shook his head, remembered that Josiah probably couldn't see it. "Ezra gave me his brandy flask awhile ago. That's helping."

"Buck," Josiah said, soft-voiced, "you need to put your head down, brother."

"I ain't gonna sleep tonight," Buck said quietly, staring out toward one of the campfires. "I'll sleep on Steele when we ride."

He could feel the unrest when Josiah leaned toward him, but didn't invite conversation. The preacher liked to keep his own counsel until he was ready.

"Buck, you mind if I talk to you a little bit?" Josiah said eventually. Buck turned his head, waited. "That time the whelp from Don Paulo came into town, looking to take Inez back with him."

"Yeah?"

"That was difficult for me, Buck." Buck couldn't see what there was to talk about now, but he didn't mind listening. Josiah's voice had a rumble in it, like great big boulders rolling, that Buck had always enjoyed. "You told me some things, some hard things 'bout when you was a boy, and I expect I should have been kinder to you. But..."

When the silence stretched too long, Buck finally prodded him. "Josiah?" He frankly couldn't understand how Josiah even remembered that conversation, or why it mattered one whit out here in the dark, where they had all survived another day and his insides still shook with the fear of nearly losing one of their number. In the dead of that night long ago, the church lit up with the sweet smell of candles, that had been like a moment out of time, but he figured that sort of thing happened to Josiah a lot, that eventually those moments all ran together.

Josiah's head tilted toward him, and there was pain in the deep-set eyes. Buck reached out, grateful that Josiah sat on his left, to urge him nearer. "I got me a sister."

"I didn't know."

"Well. She was a wild 'un. Drinking and men and running off, opium and peyote when she came across it--she was so much worse'n me, and her being a girl, my father took it upon himself to stop her. No matter what. Her mind's gone, now."

"Josiah..." He had seen too many women hurt, in too many ways—the unfairness of it, that the gentler sex, the stronger in their way, was so misunderstood by One-Blood men, almost like they were two different animals entirely. That was one thing he could say for Two-Bloods; they treated cubs like cubs, and adults like adults. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. When you told me about that man who burned his name into your leg, all I could think about was Hannah. She's got a cross burned onto her. My father's handiwork."

Buck felt the pain of those words like a brand anew, like a shock running through him. The old scar inside his thigh itched, and his gut clenched on the old pain—his own, Josiah's, and this unknown, anonymous woman's. "Get it off her," he grated, meaning it. "Get it off her, no matter what."

"She's not right in the head, Buck," Josiah said again, as if by way of explanation. "It can't hardly matter, now."

"It matters, Josiah," he muttered, "more than you know, maybe. Get it off her."

Josiah's voice trembled when he spoke again. "I couldn't do that, Buck. It would mean burning her again."

Buck suddenly realized what should have been obvious to him long ago. "She's what's in Vista City."

"Yes."

He resolved to make Josiah understand about that cross, but it could wait. He'd go there himself sometime soon, sniff up to this woman and let her think it was magic that made him so gentle with her; hurt women loved him, if they managed to get over their fear of a hundred and eighty pound wolf. They took comfort in him when he was on four legs. He'd go there as soon as things got back to normal, as soon as he could run on his bad shoulder.

Josiah was still talking, he realized, and he wondered how much he had missed. "...what'd been done to you. I knew you needed words of comfort, but I couldn't find any. I kept thinking of Hannah, and what my daddy's ways did to her. And I'm sorry, brother Buck, that I wasn't a better friend to you that night."

Understanding struck, and Buck had trouble not laughing out loud and disturbing the others. "Josiah, I 'preciate what you're saying and all, but I didn't come there planning to tell you about my past or needing no help reconciling it. I came there planning to tell you I knew how to turn into a wolf, and would it be all right if I just made the change, snuck up on that little son of a bitch, and ripped his throat out for him."

Josiah's eyes rounded, catching the faint glimmer of firelight, and he puffed out a breathy laugh. "You serious?"

"As a heart attack."

"Well." Josiah chuckled a little more, under his breath. "Well."

"Yeah," he grinned back, leaning his weight into the man to comfort him.

"Well hell yes, it'd have been all right. Next time, save us all the worry of losing you over a snot-nosed shit like that."

Buck nodded firmly. "Though I'm guessing Chris ain't gonna let there be a next time."

"I pray not." They sat in companionable silence for a while, just listening to the animals that owned the night, idly watching for snakes or lizards that might be brave enough to venture out for the heat of the fire. "There's something else, Buck," Josiah said mildly. "You said Seth was a first cousin. And Georgia, she's your sister, ain't she?"

Buck tensed, suddenly wary. "My half-sister, I guess. She looks enough like me, prob'ly Jane's her mama."

"Well, I was thinkin', I know you're never going to have the kind of relationship I'd wish for two people who share the same blood, but maybe we both don't have to lose our sisters because of our fathers' transgressions."

Buck breathed carefully, dampening down the rage that surged inside him. Georgia had planned to play with JD, probably hurt him bad in one way or another. Georgia played with One-Bloods, didn't appreciate them overmuch, didn't respect him any more than he respected her. He peered out through the darkness, toward the circle of subdued Two-Bloods guarded by the stalwart Lila, and Georgia, who sat a little apart. Her shirt had been torn into bandages, and she was half-covered by her riding jacket. While he watched, her head turned toward him; he caught the yellow reflection of her eyes in the firelight, and knew he wouldn't have cared much if Chris had shot her dead. Not after her people had grabbed Vin and Casey. She was loyal to John in the same way Buck was loyal to Chris.

He got his feet under him, and stood up. "It ain't the same, Josiah. It can't never be the same."

"No," Josiah agreed, his voice calm and accepting. "But the rest of your life don't have to be about war and hate, either."

Buck shook his head again; after everything his father had done, and the values the man had trained into the Red Stone pack, Buck couldn't imagine it being anything else. "I think I'm gonna stretch my legs."

"Buck--"

"I ain't going far. Just gonna check on Chris and the others." He strode away before Josiah could try again to stop him.

CHAPTER 29

It was a good two hours into night and the moon was high when Vin returned with the buckboard. The Two-Bloods kept their seats on the ground, all except for Lila, who stood silent and watchful, like a sentry. Vin nodded her way, in case she'd acknowledged him. JD sat next to Casey on a saddle blanket, close to the other fire. He held her hand in his, and they both stared at the flames.

"Whoa," Vin said under his breath, pulling up near the horses on the other side of the campsite. He could just make out Chris standing with Ezra underneath a small tree, ten feet away. "How's Nate doing?" he asked when he walked up.

"Nathan believes he's almost through with the surgery, though I don't know if that means we can move, yet," Ezra replied quietly.

"So Seth's gonna make it?" A flush of relief swept him, made his skin prickle anew.

"That may be something of an overstatement," Ezra demurred, "but he's still with us at the moment."

Vin couldn't say John Doe wouldn't want them dead just for shooting so many of his kin, but if everyone walked away, then things had a chance of settling down. And now wasn't the time to worry about it. "Anybody got any coffee?"

"Josiah still had the canteen a little bit ago, when I left 'em." Chris' words were clipped short, his tone surly.

"Where is he?"

Chris jerked his head to his left. "Sitting on that little ridge with Buck," he hissed. He was in a mood, all right. "Buck's feelin' like shit."

"This ain't his fault," Vin ventured carefully.

"I know it ain't. I don't know what he's feeling bad about."

If Buck wasn't talking to Chris... he could tell from Chris' tone that the man was worried about it. Vin tried to peer through the shadows that covered both men's faces, but they had concealed themselves too well. Between the dark of night and the darker shadow of the tree they stood under, Vin couldn't make out more than the glitter of eyes, or a flash of teeth. "Uh huh," he muttered, delaying.

A hand grasped his arm and Ezra gently urged him closer, and all Vin could think was how sweet the man's breath smelled, like the dried cloves he carried around in a little snuff tin. "I imagine that we're all afraid of something or other," Ezra said honestly. Surprised, relieved by the contact, Vin slid his arms around Ezra's waist and drew a long, deep breath.

"I expect we're scared of the same thing," Chris said tonelessly beside them.

Vin just kept breathing. This was nice. This change was good for him, for them all. This felt a lot like living among the People, where honesty wasn't so twisted and defiled and dangerous. "Nettie was pissed."

Ezra chuckled. "I can imagine."

"So we're all scared she's gonna tan our hides for us, when we take Casey back and have to tell her this tall tale?" he joked, wishing that was the only problem. Chris laughed, the sound reluctant and welcome. Ezra's teeth flashed, catching bits of light. Vin wanted to kiss him, and so he did, bringing one hand up to gently hold his head while they tasted each other.

Damn, Ezra knew how to do this. How had Vin spent all this time around the man and never even picked up a hint? Beside them, Chris stirred, shifting his weight. Vin reached with his free hand and grabbed the first thing he came to. It turned out to be Chris' hand, which was lucky he supposed; he squeezed tightly, gratified when Chris squeezed back.

After a moment though, he had to let go, to plant himself more firmly in Ezra's kissing. The heat down his front lit him up, the skill of that mouth suggesting so many good things... Vin drew away. "Ez?" he questioned, barely a rasp of breathless whisper.

"This..." Ezra cleared his throat, and Vin couldn't resist bumping their groins together. "This is hardly the time or the place to become better acquainted."

"Maybe it's the best time," he urged, his desire after their rescue rekindling with an urgency he needed to answer.

"Tell that to Miss Wells," Ezra retorted. "She watched men and women turn into wolves this afternoon, Buck included. I think one earth-shattering shock per day is enough for any innocent young woman, don't you?"

Vin could easily imagine either of them panting and groaning, and JD running up to kick them both squarely in their fool heads. Damn. Ezra knew how to kill a mood as well as he knew how to kindle it. "But--"

"Settle down, Vin," Chris said wearily.

He wanted to swear, or smack either or both of them--Ezra, for kissing so well, Chris for that tone of voice he usually reserved for Buck, like a parent scolding a stupid child. "I'm gonna go get some coffee," he said evenly. But before he could back away, Ezra's grip tightened, deceptively strong.

"Tomorrow, if you like," Ezra's soft voice drifted lightly through the darkness, and slid right in deep. Then more softly, "My apologies."

Damn. If Ezra read people that well in the dark, he was almost as good as Buck. "All right, then," he replied, accepting both, and stepped away.

The moon cast enough light to make his way by, now that Chris had pointed him in the right direction. Buck leaned against Josiah's side, and for a second Vin thought the Two-Blood might be asleep. "'S'all right, Vin," Buck said quietly.

"Y'all got any a' that coffee up here?" he asked, and settled down on Josiah's other side.

"Mrs. Wells didn't make you up any?" Josiah asked him, even as he handed across the canteen.

"Yeah," Vin replied with a sigh. He hated to speak ill of her, but he'd had river water with more flavor than Nettie Wells' coffee. The canteen was cool to the touch, so he steeled himself for the bitterness and tipped it back. Each swallow pushed alertness into him, promised him a little more energy and a little more time before he faded after this long, hard day.

"You may as well put your head down, Vin," Josiah said. "Nothing to do but wait."

"Can't sleep," he averred. "Wish I could." Into a longer, milder silence he asked, "Buck, what's botherin' you?"

"Huh?"

"Chris said you were feeling bad, and won't tell him why."

He heard the sigh, and the scrabbling noises as Buck set himself upright. "Josiah just got me thinking. Remembering things Chris don't need ta be reminded of. The War, mothers disowning their children, fathers fighting their sons--I understood that, 'cause there was some kinda reason. But this..."

Buck trailed off, and Vin kept his silence. Buck was talkative even in his worst moods; the trick was just to wait him out. Sure enough, a minute later, he started up again.

"John's my father, and I ain't never hated nobody as much in my life. Them yellow eyes, over there around the fire, you see 'em shining? They don't blink, they ain't lookin' past each other, 'cept to Seth. None a' them folks are talking, leastaways not with more than looks and touches; I been beat on because they wanted to steal me away like some little foundling. They been shot up because they come to hurt us, to hurt the family I chose. And they're my blood?" Another sigh, longer, punctuated the silence. "Chris 'n me, we lost a family he loved as much as life. Me, I couldn't get rid of mine. Ain't no sense in it."

Vin saw some sense, but he kept his tongue. He'd looked at Buck these past few days with wiser eyes, and the ways Buck had that weren't Two-Blood weren't always the best parts human beings had to offer. He couldn't shake loose the idea that Buck's mother hadn't done him any favors, keeping him from his own kind as she had.

But he knew without a doubt he'd get pummeled into the ground, if he even suggested it. Buck defended his mother's memory as unthinkingly, as aggressively as he defended Chris. No point to it anyway; what was done, was done. "I'm gonna see if I can't get JD ta let me take Casey on back."

He made to rise, and Buck stood with him. "I'll go talk to Chris. Damn fool prob'ly thinks I'm blaming him for shooting Georgia and Seth and stirring up all this extra trouble."

Vin stifled his amusement, and shook his head. Those two clucked over each other like setting hens.

CHAPTER 30

The procession that made its way with funereal quiet into the sleeping town of Four Corners was short one man; Vin had stayed out at Nettie Wells'. Josiah understood the need; Vin was determined to keep talking to the elderly woman and try to calm Casey down as she recounted what had happened. From what JD had said, it wasn't a pretty picture, and the boy had been all too happy to get the hell out of there.

Josiah climbed down off the buckboard seat and stepped back as the Two-Bloods crowded in to carry their own. Nathan didn't even look at them, just stumbled up the stairs to his place with Buck crowding behind. Hand resting on his pistol butt, Josiah let all the Two-Bloods go up before him, happy to finally feel them corralled somewhere. JD, feet dragging in the dirt, took up the reins of Seeker and Quinn and walked them to the pen. Chris followed with Pony and Steele; he looked asleep on his feet.

Only Ezra still seemed alert at this hour. He actually stepped up beside JD and offered to help, then began to remove Seeker's tack. Josiah shook his head and breathed another of many silent prayers, then followed the Two-Bloods upstairs.

Nathan looked drugged, he moved so slowly. Buck didn't look much better. When Chris, Ezra and JD finally squeezed into the room, Chris ran everyone off except Georgia. "Go on. Camp somewhere outside of town. Do not make trouble, do not take any game, do not talk to anyone. Tomorrow, I expect you to get the hell out of here for good."

"Seth can't be moved so quick, Chris," Nathan said.

"Then Seth can stay. Georgia, you c'n stay too, to keep an eye on him. But the rest of you--Lila, you tell me now if you're gonna honor your own laws, or not."

Josiah watched them, reminded of the immovable object and the irresistible force, as Lila's eyes narrowed to cold glinting slits. "Do you even know the code you ask us to keep?" she sneered.

Buck rose and stepped shoulder to shoulder with Chris, back straight and tall, towering over them both. "What he don't, I do," Buck said, his voice cold as steel. "And he's doin' you a favor, letting you stay through the night."

"For the moment," she said guardedly, "we will abide by your request."

"It wasn't a request, Lila," Chris said, low. "You stay out there until someone fetches you." They glared at each other awhile longer, and Lila gathered up the others without a word and walked out the door. Josiah wasn't sure why, but he trusted the woman at her word, as, obviously, did Chris and Buck.

After the bulk of the occupants had cleared out, everyone settled down to glare at everyone else. Nathan eventually forced Buck to let him check the knife wound, but it looked real good. There were two tiny pulls in it, but he decided it didn't even need fresh stitches. With nothing left to do, Nathan began to pace, and finally swore under his breath. Josiah had been waiting for this moment, had seen it coming on for a while.

"Come on, brothers," he said, bending at the waist to stretch his back. "If Ezra don't think God'll strike us down for drinking so early on a Sunday morning, I'll buy a bottle. You too, Nathan," he included, clasping the black man's shoulder.

"I'm gonna stay up here and--"

"Do what?" Georgia disparaged, "cut more holes in him?"

Josiah clamped down before Nathan could surge forward. "I think, Georgia, that you could use a drink yourself. I'll be sure to bring one back up to you, later." With that, he steered Nathan out the door.

Ezra passed them in the street and jogged on ahead. The street fires had burned to glowing coals, but if anyone knew the inside of that saloon in the dark, it would be Ezra. Sure enough, by the time they pushed back the shutters that secured the batwing doors at night, Ezra had rounded up candles and two kerosene lamps, and the shadows filling the big room were pushed back a bit by the even, yellow glow. Inez stuck her head out a second later, sleepy-eyed, wrapped up in cotton nightgown and dressing robe. "More trouble than my brothers ever were," she grumbled, but she disappeared into the kitchen and came back with cold tamales and beers all around. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he smelled the cornhusks.

"What do you think, Nathan?" he asked around a mouthful.

"I don't wanna talk too early, 'n jinx it," he said, ignoring the food.

"He'll pull through," Buck said with such certainty that every head turned to him. "My kind," he explained, "they don't get sick so easy as y'all do. He was still breathing when you sewed him up, and he was still breathing when they carried him upstairs. He'll make it."

Josiah looked back to Nathan for confirmation, but Nathan's face remained guarded and wary. "I put bits a' metal in him, tried to shore up that bone so he'd be able to walk when it heals. If it heals." Nathan shrugged. "That weren't doctorin'. That was bad blacksmithing." He emptied his beer glass with that pronouncement, and made to rise. "I'd better get on up there and check on him."

"I don't want nobody up there alone, I don't care how agreeable Georgia's acting," Chris ordered.

"I can go," JD volunteered. "I ain't gonna sleep tonight, that's for sure."

Josiah made eye contact with Ezra, who shook his head slightly. "I'll go," Josiah said. "I figure, between the two of us, Nathan and me c'n spell each other, and still handle one wounded woman if she decides to act up."

"If them two are staying up there, then I'm staying up there," Buck announced, his face set in familiar, stubborn lines.

"That's it," Chris stopped them cold, disgusted. "Ezra, fetch a bottle. Nathan, you sleep at the church with Josiah. You two can tell Georgia where you'll be, in case Seth takes a turn for the worse, but nothing else. I want you both rested. JD stays with Ezra. I'll sleep with Buck."

"What about Vin?" JD asked, and Chris just scowled.

"If he comes back to town tonight, he can sleep wherever the hell he wants."

Ezra set down a bottle and glasses, and Josiah ate two more tamales while Nathan picked at one. He swallowed down a shot of smooth whiskey, Ezra's preferred brand, and rose to his feet. "C'mon, Nathan."

"G'night," JD croaked; he'd just downed his own shot, and it showed in his voice.

Josiah let Nathan say his goodnights all around, and then herded him out the door.

Chris watched their backs, then the empty, swinging doors, and reached for the whiskey bottle. Everyone was drinking, he noticed, so he poured another round, and in afterthought lifted Buck's glass for him and poured the whole measure in.

"Tamale," Buck said after he swallowed, and damned if JD didn't understand the order and shovel more food into him.

"You ain't that busted up," Chris scoffed tiredly.

"Nate says not to use my left hand, and using my right still hurts like hell. Now I'll afford ya, drinking's a high priority, but I think he'd rather I not do it for a little bit." Chris just shook his head, suspicious that Buck was manipulating the others to wait on him. He wouldn't put it past the man.

Ezra, finished eating, stacked Josiah and Nathan's plates atop his own, and pushed his glass toward the center of the table. "As the whiskey is an excellent soporific, I believe I'll turn in now. JD?"

JD looked uncomfortable, and Chris glared silent warning to Ezra. Ezra didn't even deign to notice, damn his smooth, genteel hide. But Chris found that he trusted the gambler, a great deal more today than he had yesterday. He nodded as they took a candle and headed up the stairs.

"What about you, Buck? You ready for bed?"

"I reckon I'm ready for another drink a' that whiskey," Buck delayed, and for the longest time--and two more drinks--Chris couldn't think why.

"You worried about Vin?" he suddenly asked.

"Hell, no!" Buck said, too quickly. So they sat there in silence, and slowly, so slowly that he slid into that wonderful place where it felt like his body was beginning to float in warm water, pushed the whiskey level down in the bottle. And waited for Vin.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin had given up. After the hour it had taken to make Nettie consider the possibility that Casey hadn't just gone insane, and Vin with her, she had then gone after him like a duck on a june bug--for being a liar, for letting a menace live near her land, for putting Casey in danger. The fact that the rest of the Seven had only known a week was wasted on her. So he'd left with her word that neither she nor Casey would tell anyone anything, relieved himself of too much of her too-weak coffee, and headed back to town.

There was no campfire, so he couldn't say what gave him pause. But he reined Peso in and drew his mare's leg, cocking it before him so the sound would travel. "I'm armed," he called out.

A tall silhouette broke away from a tree near the road. Peso threw his head, and Vin knew exactly what, if not who, was out there.

"Yes." It was Lila. "I'm sure you are. But so are we, Mr. Tanner. So are we. I think you One-Bloods forget that."

The odds of being captured by the same people in the same day were so low, Vin simply dismissed the possibility and holstered his weapon. "Y'all got a lot of explaining to do," he challenged, keeping Peso under tight rein.

"Of course, I'm of a different opinion." The sneer was clear in her voice, which was good because he couldn't see a damned thing else about her. He didn't even know for sure if she was holding a gun or not.

These people would know that they had a lot of groveling to do, if they really accepted Four Corners as a pack. They had invaded territory, hunted on it, risked exposure to white folks more than once. White folks... the Cliffords, the Steinbergs, even their healer, who had worked so hard over Seth... white folks were people not native to this land. Nathan was whiter than most. "What're y'all doin' out here?"

"Larabee requested that we settle outside the town, and wait for news of Seth's condition."

That was a damned good sign. "Stay off the road," he ordered.

"I'll consider leaving you and yours alive, if Seth survives," Lila countered coldly.

"That's a war nobody wants, Lila. You done heard Chris say that."

"He should have thought of that before he opened fire."

"I'd say y'all should've thought of that before you came back to our territory to play games." He was too tired for this. Dawn wasn't so far away.

"Mistakes were made," she admitted grudgingly, and turned her head. Vin turned too, to stare at the waning moon as it dipped toward the horizon.

"Y'all c'n feud, and keep feuding, and that don't help nobody," he whispered; she would hear him. "Buck don't want no more blood spilt; I don't even think he hates y'all."

"Just John. Just his own father, who he put into a bed and a splint and permanently injured, in all likelihood." Her tone was even and cold, and reminded him vaguely of Chris. He could like her, he supposed, if he ever got to know her.

"John struck first," he said reasonably, "and killed a woman while doing it. Just 'cause Buck's mama wasn't John's kin, don't mean that hurt Buck any less. It's still with him. But he's done hating. Now it's y'all's turn."

"If Seth dies," she said flatly, "the scales won't be even."

If Seth died, the scales would be covered in blood. "I'm goin' to bed." Damn, but he was tired. "Somebody'll be out, come morning." He kneed Peso forward, used to fighting the stubborn horse, so it wasn't even a problem to push him past the place where Lila stood.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

It was when Chris was running one of the drunkards out who'd tried to slip in for more liquor--"if you're in here, don't know why any other man cain't be in here!" he whined, even as Chris dragged him by his jacket collar toward the door.

"'Cause I got the gun. Get on home," Chris ordered, frog-marching him out the batwing doors. Buck's earthy laughter behind felt so familiar, so right--and a horse made its way down the street in the darkness, its ghostly silhouette barely visible to his lamp-accustomed eyes. "Buck?" he called out, quiet.

A chair scraped. Boots tapped the wood floor. "It's Vin," Buck replied from right behind him. "Looks like shit."

Chris glanced over his shoulder and couldn't even make out the expression on Buck's face, a foot behind him. Well. Fine. They could use that to stay alive, like they used everything else.

His eyes had adjusted better to the darkness by the time Vin stopped at the hitching post and slid down off Peso like falling water. Loose-limbed, half-limp, his exhaustion was clear in every shadowed line.

"There's whiskey inside," Chris offered, "and food." He stepped off the boardwalk to reach out a hand and plant it firmly in the middle of Vin's back. Buck made some small sound, but silhouetted in the door way as he was, the soft glow of the lamp far behind him, Chris couldn't read him at all. With his other hand he gathered Buck up in the same way, and steered them both toward the table, and the bottle, and he hoped to God, sleep.

"How's Casey?" Buck asked, while Chris poured a double for Vin.

"Scared as shit. Tried to talk herself into believin' she didn't see what she saw."

"Maybe that would have been for the best," Chris tried. He'd wondered himself if tricking her wasn't the safest thing for all of them.

Vin rejected the idea straight away. "She'd have figured it out. Spending time with JD like she does, he'd have slipped or apologized a dozen more times, and she'd have figured it out."

"This way's best," Buck agreed.

Chris glared at them both. "And Nettie?" Vin looked embarrassed, and swallowed his whiskey. Buck chortled.

"I expect she's gonna be a little harder to convince," Vin finally said.

"She don't believe either of you?"

Vin shrugged. "She does. She just don't want to. Said she wouldn't believe it til she saw it with her own eyes."

"She ain't never gonna believe it then," Chris growled. "Buck ain't no circus freak."

Vin and Buck stared at each other for a moment, then Vin shrugged. "I told her I'd come out tomorrow... later today, I guess, if I could. Ain't important right now. They'll keep quiet."

They'd better, Chris thought. "We're going to bed. Where're you sleeping tonight?" He watched Vin glance between them and hesitate. "Ain't nothing happening," he said cuttingly. "It's probably four o'clock in the morning, and tomorrow's another long day." Vin ducked his head guiltily, and Chris resisted the urge to snarl in disgust. Those two really were each as bad as the other.

"I reckon I'll sleep on Buck's porch then," Vin said after awhile. "Get some fresh air."

Chris emptied the last drops from his shot glass and stood. "You two go on. I'll put Peso up."

"I c'n--"

"I'm doing it. Go on, both of you." He high-tailed it out of there and grabbed Peso's reins, mightily resisting the urge to talk to the horse, as Buck often did. He was punch-drunk, he was so tired, and maybe a little whiskey-drunk, and he hoped both Buck and Vin would be snoring in their separate spaces by the time he got to Buck's boarding house room. Peso got the barest minimum of attention; Chris counted steps in the darkness from the barn door to the tack area, and dropped the saddle on the floor. The bridle got hung up on a nail by Peso's stall, and the horse got pushed in with a few ears of corn and a swat on the rump. "Don't cause any trouble," he ordered it, and felt his way back outside.

A candle waited for him just inside the boarding house door. When he padded up the stairs and opened Buck's unlocked door, Vin was just stepping away he decided that. Chris locked eyes with Vin. His friend looked content, loose-limbed and flushed--Buck had been on him; that was damned obvious. Vin's eyes practically glowed. He was too tired to react, but he couldn't not react; it just did something in his gut.

"Hey, cowboy," Vin said softly, a bashful half-smile on his face.

The nickname hit hard and sweet, stirring up all those hopes Vin had sparked for a present, and his own wary acceptance of more, now. For all of them. Chris wanted to go to him, greet him "properly," as Buck would say. It didn't feel proper. It felt damned improper, not just because Vin was a man but because Buck happily looked on. But he wanted to, damn it.

Stupidly, childishly self-conscious, he glanced to Buck's overtly approving face, and thought again that maybe things like this were supposed to happen. Being physical with men, he had never considered even once, save for Buck. But now, these men, they roused emotion and desire in him that made him want to act.

Ezra must be a bad influence. Ezra had made it so easy last night and that first time too, and it had been so damned good. Or maybe, he thought with fading hope, it was just Buck's smell on all of them, and all this rabbiting about really would end.

Letting the impulse drive him, he set his candle on the dresser and stepped right up to Vin and wrapped his arms around the man, feeling the surprise and the pleasure when Vin hugged him back.

It was no manly embrace. There was no slapping of backs or carrying on. He just stood there, holding someone whose value to him he was beginning to accept, measuring the size and weight, the shape of the body in his arms. Vin's hair smelled of pine and dirt, his skin smelled of sweat and Buck--and that shouldn't rouse Chris so, but it did and there wasn't a goddamned thing he could do about that. Reaching carefully, he stroked the long hair, measured its texture, gritty with dirt and sweat. How had he known this man for so long without once wanting to touch his hair?

Buck cleared his throat beside them, and Chris dismissed it out of hand; Buck had got his last night and probably again this morning, and had no room to complain. Chris did withdraw a pace though, running his knuckles down Vin's wide, stubbled jaw. Vin looked exhausted, but content. Happy, even. Chris suspected the very same look shone from his own eyes and again, he forced himself not to panic. It was all right. It would have to be all right.

"You smell like Buck," he breathed, feeling the smile tighten his lips.

"You smell like Ezra," Vin countered, and Chris startled at the truth of that.

"Still?"

Vin nodded, grinning. "He's gonna have ta git rid of that cologne he wears, or we may as well take out an ad in the newspaper."

"Yeah." Something caught Vin's eye over Chris' shoulder. He could imagine the picture they made, but if Buck, of all of them, thought he had a right to complain, well he could think again.

Joy abated, a soft, concerned look crept into Vin's eyes. "Chris..."

"Am I gonna taste you in each others' mouths?" he asked, to get Vin's attention back where it belonged.

Vin's lips parted, his eyes widened with speculation. "Guess you're gonna have to find out."

"Guess I will." The last word he breathed across Vin's lips before he pressed their mouths together. This kiss, unlike the other two, felt like something he designed and controlled himself. He used his thumbs to urge Vin's jaws apart, used his tongue to explore the darkness beyond, the lush wet softness that invited and promised unknown delights. It felt luxurious, the soft lips giving under the pressure of his own, the easy glide of that agile tongue, and he knew if he wasn't drunk and asleep on his feet, what he'd said at the saloon would have been made a lie. He was going to end up as bad as Buck and Vin and Ezra, if he wasn't careful.

Pulling back, meeting Vin's eyes for a moment, he grinned widely. The look on Vin's face, half-aroused and half-wanton, was a wonder to witness. He knew that just a word would have them across Buck's bed, possibly even in a convenient chair. "Can't say as I taste him," he said gruffly.

"What?" Vin looked first confused, then happily embarrassed. "Oh."

"Guess I'll have to try somewhere else." He stepped out of Vin's arms and turned, with every intention of going to Buck and offering his mouth and more, but something in Buck's eyes stopped him. Buck looked content enough, happy even, and Chris realized that the look was familiar. It was happy. It was content--and it was a look Buck had given him and Sarah a thousand times if he'd given it once, a look faintly edged with resignation. Standing next to Vin and seeing it here, he wanted to be disappointed. He wanted to be royally pissed off. But all he felt was a sort of pained need that wrenched at his insides so hard it hurt. Aching, he stepped to within a hairsbreadth of Buck's body, tilting his head back in that weirdly delightful way Buck's height compelled him to do.

"How about it, stud?" he asked, looking up into Buck's eyes for answers to questions he didn't understand yet.

"How about what?" Buck asked.

"Am I gonna taste him on you?"

Confusion cleared, understanding dawned. Buck sucked in a sharp breath, the kind a man draws when he surfaces from deep water, and the light in his eyes sparkled like sun on polished gold. Chris tightened his stomach when Buck's left arm eased out and around his waist, touching without holding. Buck licked his lips, then leaned in to lick Chris', but jerked back the last second before it would have become a kiss. Chris froze, watching him, trying to shed old wounds like a snake its skin and loose the vibrant, shiny thing that had always been a part of them, that he had shunted, ignored, or beaten back at every turn.

The intensity in Buck's eyes grew, until Chris felt like he was staring at the sun and ought to look away before it blinded. Buck's head tilted, and something of that vibrant thing echoed in Chris' chest. Buck's teeth parted from the softest of smiles. The eager tongue teased out, pink and reverent, and licked along Chris' upper lip.

Chris exhaled, opened his lips around that gently probing tongue, and sucked it in, closing the gap and bringing their mouths together. The soft, lush sound of moist skin on moist skin whispered loud in his ears. He felt Buck's arm skim up his back and rock him gently closer. He pressed his palms flat against Buck's hipbones, then walked his fingers around the narrow hips and used Buck's bigger body and that dense firm ass as an anchor to pull himself closer. Their tongues dallied, lazy and wet and loving and warm, in each other's mouths.

Time spun out, the way it often did when Buck's mouth was on him. Gentle, breathless, he ended the kiss with a soft press of lips. Sliding his hands back to a less dangerous position on Buck's waist, rubbing his palms against warm cotton to ease the itch in them, he rested his forehead against Buck's chin and just breathed. When he registered the sound of Vin's shallow breaths behind him, he chuckled, glad he wasn't the only one swayed by all of this.

"So did ya?" Buck asked, voice as soft as butterfly wings.

"Did I what?" Chris queried.

"Taste Vin on me?"

Chris laughed, earthy and dark, and the spell was broken. Or at least bent. "Soon as them from Red Stone pack are out of our town," he said quietly, "you and me are gonna have a long talk."

He turned in the circle of Buck's arm and looked at Vin's face, with its small smile and wide, dark eyes. "And then you and me are gonna be talking, too." But not tonight, he said with his eyes. Vin looked above his head briefly and smiled. Chris couldn't say what thoughts those two traded, but he knew with certainty that he was too tired, and too drunk, to wade through whatever dragged at them all.

"We're just sleeping," he asserted. He'd meant to say it flatly, inarguably, so the soft, silky sound of his own voice surprised him. He cleared his throat. Behind him, Buck ducked his head, and a wide wet swathe of pleasure lapped from his hairline to his ear. Chris positively twitched, and he knew Buck knew it. But if he gave in now, he'd lose any semblance of control over Buck's never-ending sensual pursuits, and a too-precious hour of sleep. "I'm serious," he grated more strongly. "We're just sleeping."

"I'm glad somebody had the guts to say it," Vin chuckled quietly, and picked up his blanket.

Chris just stood there, relieved as hell that at least one of his men listened to him when he said he wasn't going to have sex. But when Vin walked to the balcony and turned, gave each of them a quick, shuttered glance, then said a polite "Good night" before stepping out of the lamplight and into the darkness outside, confusion bumped against surprise in Chris' tired brain like horses jostling at a hitching post. "Why did he go outside?" Chris asked, feeling his way.

Buck eased around him and stared intently into his eyes. Chris bore the scrutiny without comment, waiting for an answer that he could tell wasn't going to come. Buck swooped down then, kissing him fervently, and even as Chris passively kissed back, he knew that this signified something he didn't understand. The kiss was both heated and tender, and it settled him in the same way that the one before had lit him up.

"Get to bed," Buck breathed, then he too slid out into the darkness. If it weren't nearly dawn, if he weren't so damned drained, Chris thought he might have been pissed off by the quiet order. As it was, he was just glad no one was arguing with him. By the time he folded his pants over the back of a chair, the curtains rustled and the door to the balcony opened. Buck stepped back inside, hissing in pain as he fumbled with his shirt buttons.

Chris took refuge in tending his friend, unbuttoned the shirt and slid it carefully over the various bandages. "Everything all right?" he asked, glancing toward the door.

"Everything except you standing there naked and expecting me ta just sleep."

"Shut up," he groused. "I'm serious."

Buck smiled down at him, and took a half-step closer, hampering his undressing efforts. "I am, too."

He started on trouser buttons, ignoring the slightly inflated bulk beneath the fabric. It was a testament to Buck's reputation that the man could even begin to get it up after this day--and it wasn't a trait that was going to be rewarded. "I don't want him out there by himself," he tried again, wondering what was stopping him from just going to the door and ordering Vin inside. "Not after what happened to him this afternoon."

"He'll be in in awhile," Buck promised, and shimmied until his pants pooled at his feet. "He just wants to settle down some."

"You sure?" He looked right into Buck's eyes.

"He promised he'd come in. Go on, get under the covers," Buck breathed. "I'll get the lamp."

"Don't hurt your hand."

"I'm gettin' real tired of hearing that," Buck grumbled.

"The day you stop telling us to feed you is the day you'll stop hearing it," Chris said matter-of-factly. His feet left the floor as the room went dark. He could smell Buck on the pillows, strong and thick. Then the mattress moved and he could smell Buck in the flesh, a fresher, sweatier, more alive scent.

"Come on, scoot on over here," Buck whispered, and he knew if his lover was sound, he'd have been manhandled into whatever place Buck wanted him. "We all need some shut-eye."

Wasn't that the truth. He stifled a yawn against Buck's collarbone, squirming just a little to find the most comfortable spot. It didn't matter, he realized, fading fast; he could have slept on a rock. That was the last thought he had, in fact, until he came up out of deep, deep black water, just when it was getting light; Buck was moving, and something, a body, nudged him forward. He inhaled deeply, the automatic breath of waking, and familiar smells made his nose twitch in recognition.

"Hush now." Quiet voice, Buck's voice at his temple.

"Go back to sleep." Even quieter, Vin's voice warmed the back of his neck.

He woke again, not much later, too hot from the press of Vin's body behind him and Buck's in front. From the light sneaking through the curtains, he knew the sun had risen but that it was still very early. He couldn't believe how rested he felt after only a few hours of sleep, but he figured it had more to do with the safety of his people than anything else.

He levered up onto an elbow, glanced down at Buck who looked like a drooling idiot, jaw slack and pushed to one side from where he shoved his face into the pillow, saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth. Vin stirred behind him, and Chris shimmied onto his belly, found an equally slack face and sleepy eyes just barely focusing on him.

"Mmmn," Vin mumbled, and swallowed dryly.

Chris reached out and pushed a strand of long hair out of Vin's eyes. "Go back to sleep," he murmured. "Everything's fine." Then he crawled over Vin and out of bed.

CHAPTER 31

JD woke in the warm arms of an angel, wriggling with sated, sleepy joy. He realized he was pressed against Ezra a second later and, flushing a little, rolled onto his back and just lay there. The room was warm. The sheets were softer and finer than any he had ever slept on. The rested feeling transferred itself all the way to his relaxed, contented fingers and toes.

So this was a feather bed.

There was no combination of hot milk, Nathan's potions or hard work that would ever put him to sleep like Ezra's feather bed. This was great! He wondered how expensive one was, and where he could get one all the way out here. He wondered how long he'd be able to stay in this one. Basking in the softness, in the half-sweet smell of clean sheets and Ezra's cologne, he remained where he was until the call of nature absolutely forced him to rise. He pushed the heavy brocade curtains aside, startled at how bright it was, how late he'd slept. It was eight o'clock, maybe. Time to get up--he looked back to Ezra, who hadn't so much as twitched in the last ten minutes, and smiled.

Who'd have ever figured Ezra to be such a smart and chivalrous bedmate? They had talked in the dark, sharing secrets, and it had felt wonderfully safe, calling to mind nights with his mother when they'd whispered across the empty space between their beds. Ezra had promised him, promised mind, that Casey would calm down, and that he personally would work on Miz Nettie, if Vin couldn't handle her. JD had every faith in Ezra's ability to get a snake to buy shoes. Ezra could sweet-talk Nettie Wells.

He decided to let him sleep, as it wasn't anywhere near Ezra's rising time yet, and dragged on his clothes fast. Down the stairs, he tossed a perky "morning!" to Inez on his way out the back, and used the outhouse. The horses needed checking on, he thought; no one had done much for them last night. So he trotted down the street to the livery stable, made sure all of them had been fed and watered, released Peso into the front corral and pulled two horses he didn't know into a much smaller pen in back. Wouldn't do to let Peso harangue two strangers' animals. Peso was tired, grumpy and as ornery as a mule, kicking his heels up before plodding over to wake Pony and Steele, who dozed in a shadowed corner by the rails. JD shook his head. That those horses managed to get along was a miracle by anyone's measure.

Nathan and Josiah weren't in the church; he hopped down the stairs and looked toward Nathan's place above the livery; the door was open, and there sat Josiah in the shade of the building. Well, then. JD had eaten too much, too late at night to be hungry, but he figured coffee and milk would make his belly happy, and maybe somebody up there needed breakfast. So he took himself off toward Mrs. Tipper's restaurant, happy to be alive on such a glorious day.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Chris stepped out into the sunshine and resisted the mighty urge to stretch like a cat. It was a relief, to be alone. He hadn't been alone in days, save for that idiot running back and forth from his cabin to town. He walked across the street to the restaurant, let Mrs. Tipper seat him in a corner and ate until he couldn't force down another bite. JD came in half way through the meal, but Chris glared at him, as he sometimes did in the morning. JD shrugged and grabbed a plate from the counter, and carried it away.

The Tipper girl kept his coffee flowing and chattered friendly nonsense with each refill; Mrs. Tipper shushed her when she noticed, giving him his privacy; the townsfolk wisely didn't try to bother him.

As long as he didn't remember that JD had come down from Ezra's bed, that Buck and Vin were still asleep together, that Josiah and Nathan had bunked in the church and that Two-Bloods lay injured in Nathan's room, everything felt almost normal.

Shit. At least the fighting was over. And it was. If those others tried to cause any trouble, he'd get Vin on a roof with that high-powered rifle, and have him pick them off before they got within two hundred feet of town, and that would be that. They'd asked for it, every step of the way.

That debate settled to his satisfaction, he felt at a loose end, and settled a little deeper into the bench seat, waving the Tipper girl over for more coffee. He was in no hurry to get anywhere, and if something went wrong, well, somebody would find him soon enough. Might as well relax, and indulge in a simple pleasure, and enjoy life while the getting was good.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Vin woke easily, his entire half-dreaming brain dragging his attention toward his dick like warmed steel. It twitched and begged between his thighs, so hard a cat couldn't scratch it.

The urge from yesterday had returned with a vengeance now that he'd had a touch of sleep, and he reached for himself, hungry to assuage that ache and feel the life-affirming pleasure of release. He glanced over at Buck, who slept like a baby and badly needed the rest, between worrying and fighting and healing. Buck who, he decided uncharitably, didn't need everyone jumping every time that beautiful cock of his twitched. And the look in Buck's eyes last night, so damned determined to prepare for the worst despite all evidence to the contrary, it had set off something in Vin; Buck and Chris were off his dance card, until Buck worked things through for himself. That was all there was to it.

But Ezra wasn't. Ezra, whose mouth in the dark and sincere words had sounded rich with promise. Yeah.

Loathe to wake his sleeping friend, Vin eased out of bed, washed at the basin, and slid into his clothes. He made an effort to be normal--not too quiet, which would disturb Buck's rest as much as being too loud. Then he checked his coat to be sure the hang of it covered the bulge in his pants, slipped out the door, down the stairs, and outside. Strolling, trying not to look furtive or call attention to himself, he entered through the back of the saloon, tipped his hat toward Inez who looked like she'd been up for hours, and climbed the stairs.

Vin rapped quietly, politely, positively like civilized folk, on Ezra's door. Just before he started to feel too conspicuous standing in the hall, Ezra's sleepy voice asked from within, "Who is it?"

"Me." He cleared his throat. "Vin." The door swung open to reveal Ezra, in slippers and dressing gown, gun in his left hand, and obviously barely out of bed. "Mornin', Ezra," he said, touching his hat brim.

"Good morning, Mr. Tanner. What can I do for you?" he stepped back and made a sweeping gesture with his arm, ushering Vin in; Vin jumped through the door before Ezra changed his mind, or anyone else came out of their rooms and saw him. This was going to be damned hard, in the long run.

"Just wanted to check in on you 'n JD," he said, casting a furtive glance toward the bed and the dim, shadowed recesses of the room's corners. "See if y'all slept all right."

Ezra had every faith that he knew exactly what Vin was doing here at this ungodly hour, but no idea at all how to play something like this. So he answered politely and didn't betray himself. "I slept very well, thank you, and am quite refreshed, though I can't speak for our Mr. Dunne; he was gone when I woke."

"Really?" Vin's eyes went hooded and hungry. "He ain't here?"

"No, he isn't. I imagine--" but Vin was on him before he could finish the sentence. Before he could think of how he'd finish the sentence.

Ezra hadn't expected this. He didn't know why; this was what he'd taught men to do in his youth, to want him and desire him and crave him until they could barely check their lust.

But he had done nothing to entice Vin, and he hadn't expected this.

He couldn't say it was unwelcome, this aggression, this treasured sensation of a hardened shaft pressing against his hip, mindless and needy; this smell, of familiar, sleep-laden man and well-worn leather; this wet sucking heat of full lips upon his own. Vin Tanner was decidedly commanding, and a fleeting thought, a dust mote shimmering for the tiniest of moments in a shaft of light, wafted through his mind that this was no precedent to set, no appropriate way to begin an association such as this. But even as he steeled his will to break this kiss, to pull his fully engaged tongue from the wide-open mouth and let Vin know exactly what was what, Vin's hands reached and grasped his buttocks, squeezed through the too-thin fabric with a rhythmic, urgent need.

His own cock came up--how could it not, greedy, rash thing that it was? He raised his hands, intent on grasping Vin and pushing him away, and found his traitorous fingers pausing to measure the breadth of the shoulders, the supple softness of the hide coat that would be nothing when compared to the warm skin and molten muscle beneath. His arms stole around Vin's neck, forearms tingling from the tangled, oily silk of overlong hair. No, this wasn't--

Vin groaned. Air exploded into Ezra's mouth with the sound, long and tight like the creak of timber just as the tree falls. He absolutely was not...

Apparently, he was. He grabbed up great handfuls of Vin's hair, pressed his palms against the hot, smooth skin of Vin's neck. Why must a man wear so many clothes? His fingers, clumsy with lust, reluctantly released that mane to fumble at buttons and lacings. His elbows fought for space with Vin's, as the man urgently worked the buckle of his gun belt and Ezra continued to follow the trail of buttons like breadcrumbs to the package below. The first touch of his fingers to bare, quivering belly forced a gasp from Vin. Hot, hairless, that warm skin went on forever as Ezra pushed up the shirt, splayed his hands and fanned his fingers across the arch of ribs. His fingertips brushed the hard points of nipples, and Vin went wild. As if he hadn't been before. They crashed against his dressing table, the sound of tumbling bottles and rattling drawers loud in his ears, so loud.

"Damn, Ez..." Vin cursed, mouth sliding wet and open along his jaw, the heat searing a line to that softest, tenderest skin of his throat. Vin licked, bit, sucked. "What do you like? You like gettin' fucked? Please tell me you like gettin' fucked."

He'd take it right here, strip himself and sweep all that clutter off the table and bend over it, arch his back, offer his ass to the shaft that sought him. As easily, he could fall to his knees and find that dark, musky, most masculine smell as he pressed his face into Vin's groin and respired deeply.

"Love it," he assured urbanely. "You?"

"Hell yes!"

Ezra laughed at the fervor, the intemperance that shook his usually reserved body to its root. The world went dim when Vin pulled his clothes over his head, tangling him in the loosely tied belt of his robe. "Wait--"

"What the--Ez, get that shit off," Vin begged. Ezra knew begging when he heard it, even when it sounded like an order. They separated long enough to strip, and when Vin grabbed him up again and pulled him against heat like a furnace, a cock like a brand on his hip, he felt his last scattered thoughts tilt dizzily and slide away.

But a moment, the barest instant of sanity, prevailed when he found himself on his back, Vin pushing hard fingers into him with no noticeable preparation or restraint. There were some things that deserved to be anticipated, he remembered, even as he winced away from the probing fingers. "What?" Vin asked, his eyes half-glazed with need.

"Sore," he imparted, meaning it, though that wasn't the reason he stopped Vin. Strangers could fuck like that, could meet and anonymously rut. But friends? No. His self-image absolutely demanded a more appropriate and considerate introduction to that act, between friends.

"Fuck!" Vin swore viciously. "Me too. Buck, damn him."

Ezra laughed, giddily. "Chris." What had they created for themselves, here? It felt perilously close to his idea of heaven, paradise, Elysium on earth.

Before Vin could do more than punch the pillow in aborted frustration, Ezra grabbed up the small bottle of oil from the nightstand where he'd left it, moistened his own fingers, then moistened Vin's. "Gently," he ordered, meeting Vin's eyes, proud of the firmness he managed to infuse into his voice. With that simple order, he turned on the bed and realized his second wanton vision, burying his face in Vin's groin. It took effort to remember to be gentle himself; he urged Vin's knee up, and slid his arm around that curve of waist and hip. Traced his fingers down the hot moist crease between the lush cheeks, and pushed one--gently, gently, he ordered himself, repeating so he wouldn't forget--inside Vin. Vin winced. But when Ezra began to withdraw, a hand like a manacle grabbed his wrist, and fingers dug in harshly.

"Shit. Keep doing it."

Ezra obeyed, even as he flicked the pink smooth tip of Vin's cock, the tiny, swollen slit that, when he licked it, made Vin's whole body twitch with pleasure. His reward was a groan that started deep in Vin's belly.

Ezra risked a second finger, and practiced a skill at which he was very, very talented, swallowing Vin's cock down. Vin barely restrained a shout; Ezra could feel it shake his body. The thick shaft slid into the back of his throat and lodged there, urgently mining his mouth for more pleasure. He pressed his nose against curling pubic hairs, began the delicious struggle to breathe. The smells intoxicated: the faint, stale sweat of fear; the fresh, dense musk of arousal. And the taste left on his tongue by the velvet-smooth cock was like the finest brandy. He wanted to catalogue the discrete sensations: the dense presence of Vin's thigh above his head, the heavy vein that throbbed against his tongue, tight clench around his fingers and the artistic curve of muscled ass. He wanted to pay close attention to each new detail.

He wanted to enjoy the decadent wild fury that Vin had pushed into him. But he couldn't, because Vin swallowed him down, sucking eagerly, and Vin's oiled fingers slid sure and deep and found that spot of pleasure inside. The sensations sent a flash-fire of desire burning through him, and his mind whited out.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

There was only so much coffee a man could drink, and so much delaying he could do before taking up his responsibilities again. Chris thanked Mrs. Tipper and went to drain off some of that good coffee, before heading down the street. He needed to find out how Seth was doing. He could send a couple of the boys out with any news, maybe Vin and Ezra... Vin and Ezra. Ezra had opened the door to Vin under that tree last night, and Vin had already displayed himself to be a man who didn't refuse offers like that. A creeping unease wormed its way into Chris' belly, that the danger was barely past and his men were likely fucking each other senseless. He wasn't a man who stood on propriety. Lord knew, he wasn't. But still, it alarmed him, all this sex, with so little provocation, regardless of the dangers from outside. Get used to it, he ordered himself. It wasn't going to go away.

Good mood considerably dampened, he lengthened his stride down the street and took the stairs to Nathan's two at a time. Nathan sat on the little porch, eating breakfast. It was probably the plate JD had taken. Was everybody reading everybody else's mind? With barely a nod to Nathan, Chris leaned on the railing and stared off down the street, his focus fading, turning inward. He, Vin and Buck hadn't said much last night, but they'd gone from exhaustion to arousal to sleep with apparent understanding. JD hadn't frowned this morning, when Chris had warned him off. And here Nathan sat, placidly eating JD's breakfast.

Beside him, Nathan began to whisper so softly, so honestly, that the words felt like hot wind off the desert that burned the eyes and seared the skin.

"Way I growed up, living was always a risk; make somebody mad, get the whip. Lose your temper, say what you think, get sold, beat, maybe killed. When I ran, in 'fifty-eight, well, just breathing was a risk for two months. Hiding in barns, in root cellars, attics, terrified every time a dog barked. Couldn't trust the negroes no more'n the whites, they was so afraid of being caught helpin' an escapee. Them kinds of slaves, they got made examples of, terrible, awful examples.

"Then I was in Michigan with forged papers sayin' I was a free man. I guess I lost all sense. I stole, drank, spent time in the black brothels, like I didn't have no self-control no more. I didn't know what was important, after all that living in fear."

Chris listened, seeking illumination, but he felt blind and deaf to it. Was he the only one of them with a normal family, brothers and sisters, parents married for decades, farming, living and dying every season with the rains?

The chair legs scraped. Nathan's easy footsteps moved up beside him. Nathan leaned his elbows on the railing and clasped his hands tightly together, so tightly that the dark skin tried to pale around the knuckles. Nathan finally said, "Unless you got something to hate or be afraid of standin' right in front of you, you keep forgetting what you're s'posed to protect."

Chris jerked around, his body twisting like a lashing whip. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying," Nathan said, not even rising from his slouch, "you're already winding yo'self back up again. Just 'cause you ain't got nobody to shoot at."

"I ain't."

Nathan tilted his head, and he felt trapped by those too-keen eyes. "I watched you walking up the street, Chris. Watched a big ol' thundercloud settle over your head 'afore you even got to the stairs. You tell me what it is, if it ain't that."

He didn't know what it was. But he sure as hell didn't want Nathan to be right.

Nathan wasn't finished yet. "You just remember, any one a' them ranchers, they'd shoot Buck for his pelt and think they was doing everybody a favor. The good townsfolk, if they's afraid, wouldn't even need to see him like that. And anybody else gets wind of what y'all are gettin' up to, there'll be threat aplenty, and you'll know who to protect. You'll always know who you're s'posed to protect, Chris."

He didn't do that. He didn't run or hide like some chicken-shit coward just because he didn't have a fight to distract him. He didn't. Then he remembered walking Pony back and forth three times in one night. He remembered the times he'd snarled at any one of these men to keep them at bay, the number of times he'd lied or just not spoken the truth...

He wasn't a coward.

And if he had been before, damn it, that shit was going to stop right now.

CHAPTER 32

Ezra rested heavily atop his bed partner, feeling that satiated glow in his belly and groin, and a very superior pride in his skills at the carnal arts; Vin looked as limp and wrung out as a bar rag. He suspected he didn't look much better, so he decided not to gloat overtly.

"Feel like you done sucked my brains right out along with everything else," Vin complimented, and positively beamed up at him.

"Yes, well, a man can't hear that too many times," Ezra flirted happily. He lowered his head until his mouth just hovered over Vin's, and let Vin rise to him; the kiss was careless and wet and thoroughly delicious.

"Damn, Ez, how come none of us know'd ta do this before?"

Ezra looked at the sleepily sated eyes, and wondered if Vin's question was serious. The reasons were myriad and obvious: Buck chased dresses with a single-mindedness that would have made guessing his other inclinations ludicrous; Chris had seemed to have little appetite at all; Nathan was prudish at best, JD virginal, Josiah proper... add to this that such things simply weren't done in the polite society Mary Travis worked to build out of this town... When forced to think about it, Ezra was amazed anew at the speed with which they had stripped away the veneers of independence and privacy. "I expect because the risk seemed far greater than the possible reward," he ventured.

Vin grinned that tolerant, knowing grin of his, and shook his head. "Don't seem like that now, does it?" he asked, and Ezra felt the work-hardened hands slide over his hips and massage deeply into the muscles of his ass.

He had to admit, it didn't. "Not at the moment, no," he said dreamily, propping on his elbows to run his fingers through the tangles of Vin's hair. "Though I am curious as to why neither Buck nor Chris took matters in hand for you this morning." Buck and Chris, actually...

Vin frowned. "Them two have got things to work out. They ain't gonna do it with me in the way."

Curious. "It's fortunate then, that I was available to you this morning."

Vin looked startled, and brought a hand up behind Ezra's neck to urge him down. A soft, close-mouthed kiss pressed against his mouth. "Ain't like that," Vin said quietly, and he appeared entirely sincere. "I wanted it bad this mornin', after all the shit yesterday. I know that. But I didn't come here to use you."

"I didn't feel used." If anything, he was doing the using here, and he knew it. "In fact, I quite enjoyed this. You were always very subtle, Mr. Tanner," he said, liking the sound of the "Mister" while their naked bodies pressed into each other. "I didn't expect you to be so abandoned."

Vin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You knew I'd go with a man?"

Ezra shrugged and nodded.

"Then why the hell didn't you come after me before?" he all but exploded.

"Keep your voice down," Ezra hissed, peering automatically toward the locked door. "As to why," he said sternly, "your attentions in that respect seemed focused on Chris."

Vin looked properly chagrined, and closed his eyes. "I trusted him, Ez," he said, sounding almost apologetic, "more than anybody else. That's all." Then his voice turned defensive. "You gonna say you never looked at him in them tight pants he wears?"

Ezra took pity on him, and stroked a gentle finger over the smooth part of his cheek, just above his beard line. "I'll say instead that my eye has wandered over all of you, at one time or another."

Vin's eyes popped right back open and he stared up intently. Ezra stretched languorously, enjoying the feel of his skin rubbing against Vin's, and the strong hands that kneaded absently at the muscles of his buttocks, his lower back. "Yeah?"

"Yes." It was no more than the truth, and the admission hurt no one. "Though I'm curious about your comments regarding Chris and Buck."

Vin shook his head, sighed. "Sometimes I think Buck likes to see him mad," Vin said irritably.

"I'm sure we all do," Ezra replied. Chris Larabee roused to a high passion was a delicious, violent and absolutely irresistible force to reckon with. Ezra suspected that Buck would actually receive the rewards for his goading efforts, in future.

Vin grimaced. "Is ever'body 'round here 'sides me messed up in the head?"

Ezra laughed, lightly. "If by 'messed up in the head' you mean deviant or peculiar in one's sexual mores, I feel compelled to remind you that your ass is too sore from being fucked, to fuck any further. And that I taste my seed in your mouth with every..." he leaned in and kissed Vin deeply. "Single..." he did it again, swirling his tongue around that hot wet cavern. "Kiss."

Vin smiled suddenly, and relaxed under him. "You got a point there."

Yes, indeed. "We'd best get up before someone comes to roust us like cattle." He needed to see how the others were faring. With a last kiss, he rolled off his partner and landed soft as a cat on the floor, stretching to ease his back. He went to the washbasin and emptied the pitcher, wetting a cloth as Vin simply slid back into his clothes. It was an effort not to twitch his nose in distaste; Vin Tanner would learn something new about personal hygiene, in the very, very near future.

Not that the thick, manly smell of him had been any hardship during the act. No, not at all. Ezra smiled as he washed, then reached for his cologne.

"Ez? You might wanna quit using that."

"And I might not," he said archly. "This is both expensive and tasteful, and I--"

"--and I smelled it on Chris yesterday, and in Buck's bed, and anybody in this here town's gonna be able to figure somethin' out if that keeps up."

Ezra met Vin's sober eyes in the mirror, and looked down at his cologne bottle. An olfactory tell. "A gentleman doesn't go without cologne," he grumbled, bottle still gripped firmly in his hand.

"Then the gentleman might wanna git used ta goin' without sex, 'cause you rubbing that stuff all over us is gonna stand out."

Perish the thought--with no small resignation, he set the bottle aside.

"You know better'n most of us, it's the little things that are gonna trip us up, if somethin' does."

Ezra knew there were ways around this, like buying these reprobates decent soap; he had not yet begun to fight.

"You want some coffee?" Vin asked him, and stepped up against his naked back--in apology for making him suffer without cologne, Ezra decided.

"I would, I'm absolutely certain, kill anyone who came between me and the pot."

Vin pressed a light peck to his shoulder; his whiskers scratched, sending a shiver down Ezra's arm. "I'll go fetch us some."

"I think perhaps if you waited downstairs with it, appearances might be more easily maintained."

Vin chuckled at him in the mirror, and raised his eyebrows. "I think if I don't get outta this room while you're parading around nekkid, we'll be back in that bed 'fore long."

Well, that was a pleasant thought. Ezra decided to trade on Vin's mood, and so turned and thrust his hip out a bit. He laid a hand lightly on Vin's forearm. "It doesn't bother you, what Chris feels for Buck?" He tried to make it sound like old news, like there was nothing to rail against because, frankly, there wasn't. A sleeping giant had lain between those two for who knew how many years, and now it had been awakened. Chris' whispered words in the dark; his frustrated, confused admissions the following night, before their intimacies; Chris' inability to leave Buck alone yesterday really hadn't surprised Ezra. He thought they'd surprised Chris badly, however.

Vin actually smiled, a small grace note of reluctant amusement. "Bothers me that Chris ain't convinced Buck of it." The smile faded, and Vin frowned again. "Bothers me that Buck ain't gonna trust him much at first."

Buck couldn't be blamed. Ezra had seen a lot of Chris lately, and while Chris' commitment to Buck was clearer to Ezra than it ever had been, so were Chris' past misdeeds. As was, Ezra mused, Chris' anger at Buck. "Given the mistakes between them, I daresay Buck has good cause to be wary."

"Yeah. Buck made a damned big mistake never telling Chris about himself." Vin sighed, and his mouth tightened in a frown. "Them two know how to hurt each other better'n they know how to do most anything else. And a lot of that's because Buck never told Chris nothin'."

And because Chris never pried too deeply? Or at all? Ezra wondered. There was some truth to both claims. But things had changed in the last week, and honesty was now the stock in trade. Buck would take to it like a duck to water; Ezra suspected that secrets had caused Buck a great deal of personal discomfort over the years. Chris, well, he'd treat it like medicine, and swallow it down. "Yes, I suppose," he finally answered.

He tilted his head, examining the man closely, taking in all that was said and all that wasn't. He wondered if Vin's reticence before all of this trouble had been in unconscious response to the way Buck and Chris continued to mark out the meter of their relationship. Dabbling his fingers into the hollow just beneath Vin's collarbone, Ezra cast out a line with a live, wriggling worm on the hook: "A lesser man might be jealous."

"Of them two?" Vin looked surprised. "Nah. Never was before, ain't gonna start now."

"Before, they weren't..."

"They were too," Vin dismissed and laid his fingers alongside Ezra's neck. "I just never thought they'd do anything about it."

Ezra ignored the pleasant touches and did some touching of his own, each designed to lull and pacify an unwitting victim into a tranquilized, entirely malleable state. "You know that of all of us, you and I are the only two who understand that."

Vin sighed, and nodded once, an abrupt movement that did wonderful things to his hair. "They'd better hurry up and understand it." His glare was unconscious, and his eyes asked a question that Ezra wasn't sure how to answer.

"I'm sure they'll find their way," he said neutrally. He reluctantly released Vin and turned back to the mirror. Then, changing the subject to get Vin moving, he said, "Coffee will be lovely. I'll be down in five minutes."

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Two hours later, Ezra stood on Nathan's overcrowded landing, wondering if the structure had been designed with so much load-bearing in mind. Five men, four Two-Bloods... better not to think about it. At least Josiah, the heaviest of them, was still gone, arranging the rental of a buggy and team.

"I didn't ask what you wanted, Lila," Chris said evenly, keeping his voice low. They had elevation, and there was little near them save the livery itself; the blacksmith's forge drew enough air, and his tools made enough noise below, that Ezra believed the conversation to be well-protected from prying neighbors.

Vin, who had ridden with him to fetch her, watched the two coolly, as did Ezra. He fancied this creature would smell Vin on him, and him on Vin... would smell almost all of them on each other. It was a decidedly proprietary feeling, and he resolved to sidle against Nathan and Josiah sometime soon, just to round things out. "I won't leave two of our injured under the inadequate protection of your so-called pack."

"Yours are the only people who have threatened our pack," Ezra interjected mildly, "and we seem to have done all right against you." Chris frowned, and Vin pursed his lips and glared, but it was still worth it.

Chris finished with a low, "And we won't stand for seven a' you trespassing on our territory."

Tensions ran high, had been so ever since he and Vin had approached Lila and the younger members of the Red Stone pack. Lila had been adamant then that she wouldn't leave any of the four unattended, and frankly, Ezra couldn't blame her. But he hadn't enjoyed escorting them all back to town, either. He eased to the railing, peered over the edge; Arrah, Lucas, Bennett and Victoria leaned in the lee of a building across from the livery, so as not to startle unaccustomed horses. Shoulder to shoulder, they stared right back.

"To hell with it," Vin muttered. "Chris? Why not let her move 'em today, if her authority's more important to her than whether or not Seth could start bleeding again?"

"It ain't smart," Nathan chimed in.

"Neither, it seems, is Lila," Ezra observed. Lila turned cold eyes on him, but Ezra had been through this more than once already, and her angry glare left him unmoved.

"Those are your choices," Chris said. "Y'all can clear out now, and leave Georgia here to ride back with Seth tomorrow, or you c'n clear out now, and take 'em both with you."

"Georgia?" Lila turned, dismissing Chris. "What's your opinion?"

Georgia had remained calm throughout the confrontation. "Josiah said he knew of a Rockaway coupe; if he does, its ride will be smooth enough for Seth." Her eyes darted around to each of the Seven present, pausing longest on Buck. "Better to get the fire from the fuses, I think."

Ezra couldn't agree more. "I'll help Josiah with the buggy arrangements," he offered, hesitating until he received Chris' nod. It was interesting, really, to note how much of this hierarchy already existed between them; likely he wouldn't have waited for the acknowledgment without these Two-Bloods watching them, but he'd have known whether or not he had it through some other, more or less subtle, means. And he'd have obeyed.

He frowned as he jogged down the stairs. How had this happened? How had such organization sprung up on its own, with no captain, no military order, nothing but a dollar a day and a general harmony amongst them? He thought on how many of them, and how many times, to his knowledge, Chris had threatened to shoot. Chris had threatened Ezra himself, of course, twice; Buck, twice; Vin, thrice; JD many times, though Ezra couldn't say Chris had ever been serious; even Josiah, when he'd been as drunk as Chris had ever been, and a mite more violent. He couldn't recall Chris ever threatening Nathan, but that would change if Nathan didn't stop moaning. Ezra smiled and hoped he'd be there to see it.

Josiah stood on the porch before Mary Travis' paper, looking vexed. It seemed the widow was remarkably reluctant to lend her buggy to the very strangers who had caused so much trouble.

"What did you offer her?" Ezra asked, idly eying the building's closed door and Mrs. Travis' rough, angry movements beyond the window.

"Our gratitude."

"That's it?" he asked, disgusted. "No wonder you're standing out here empty-handed."

"I ain't got more'n a dollar to my name, today," Josiah retorted irritably. "What do you suggest, I put Chris up for stud service?" The very thought made Ezra suck in his belly. "I think the waiting list'd be too long anyhow," Josiah added, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He felt a shark-like grin stretch his face, and angled his chin toward the light. "You should try him sometime," he mouthed.

Josiah stiffened, but no mark of anger darkened his face. "Chris ain't a bottle a' whiskey, Ezra," he reproved, his voice no louder than a breeze.

That was certainly true. Chris was far better. "I'll just handle the business transaction with the fair widow," he said mildly, and entered the newspaper office.

Fifteen minutes later, Josiah still glared at him as they walked Tiny's bays toward the storage barn behind Miss Maggie Carter's run-down hotel. They were a very settled pair, at fifteen and sixteen years old respectively, enough so that Ezra hoped hauling loup garou wouldn't spook them overmuch.

"You ain't gonna tell me, are ya?"

"I see no reason to," Ezra said, taking, he supposed, far too much delight in taunting the older man.

"But it ain't money?" Josiah asked for the fourth time.

"No, money was neither offered nor exchanged."

"Then what the hell did you do?" Josiah's temper, as fierce as a sleepy volcano, blew with just as much heat.

"You're frightening these lovely horses," Ezra answered, and only great skill kept him from laughing out loud.

"I'm gonna frighten you in a minute," he growled.

Ezra serenely ignored him and handed over halter reins so he could open the barn door. "Let's get these girls to the shaft, shall we?"

Josiah positively fumed, but he did his part. Ezra held the horses while the big man dragged out the buggy. In silence, they went about the time-consuming task of tightening tack, settling the girls into place, adjusting saddles and buckles and lines and reins, and then hooking all of that to the buggy. He remembered anew why he rode astride; harness was far too much work for a man without servants.

"There," Ezra said sunnily, "all dressed." Absently, he scratched the nearer horse's ear as Josiah wrapped the length of rein around the buggy's drag brake. He looked around, listened carefully for interlopers. "Let's take them behind the church." If the horses jumped at the smell of the wild, he didn't want the whole town watching.

"You do it," Josiah ordered. "I'll go round 'em up."

Ordinarily, Ezra wouldn't have taken too kindly to such a blatant order from this man, but getting Josiah's goat and knowing those creatures would soon be gone improved his outlook immeasurably.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

There was quite a crowd around. Mary stood on the boardwalk staring thoughtfully at the four Two-Bloods who stood shoulder to shoulder in the shadows of the general store. Other townspeople wandered by to get a look at the strangers who had wounded Buck and riled their usually unflappable protectors but who now seemed adequately cowed by the Seven. Lookie-loos--Josiah hated the type even as he understood it. It was no more than simple morbid curiosity, a need to get an early glimpse of danger and death, because every man and woman would face it close-up, sooner or later. As he came around the corner of the corral, he looked up toward Nathan's porch and stopped in his tracks. Buck stood very close to Georgia, shoulders hunched, head ducked low, his face as impassive as stone. The look on Buck's face couldn't ever be called welcoming, but Buck's entire stance accommodated the women beside him. It was a listening posture. As he watched, another body came into view: just the back, black-clad and wire-taut. Chris took another half-step backwards until he was less than a foot from Buck's backside. Josiah decided that the whole picture was a good omen, and took the stairs slowly, to give Georgia more time.

But Buck had already moved away by the time Josiah reached the landing. They met eyes, and he sensed no anger in the younger man, though Buck must've smelled the remnants of it on him. He shook his head at the furrowed brows, mouthed "Ezra," and Buck blew out a puff of breath.

"Buggy's ready behind the church," he told Chris.

"That's it, let's get a move on."

Chris, obstinate, refused to permit another Two-Blood up the stairs, so Josiah helped Nathan bear Seth's stretcher, noting with irony that neither Chris nor Lila was willing to tie up their hands. And he was interested, deeply interested, in how this woman didn't once doubt her superiority to Chris Larabee. That was a rare thing in a woman, not that she was competent or independent or smart, but that she knew it, and believed herself plenty more skilled than one sway-backed, ornery, infamous gunslinger. Even Georgia--even Arrah, the little and obviously more submissive one, radiated self-assurance.

He remembered something Buck had said, before all this started, about One-Blood women, and wondered if all Two-Blood females were like these.

Wayne Cochran was the first to try and close in, wanting that look, wanting the gossip. "Get your ass back across that street, ain't nothin' to see here," Chris warned the young man off with his usual subtlety. Josiah fought back a reproving glare. To Chris' right, Buck chuckled.

While Josiah got Seth situated in the back with blankets Ezra produced out of thin air, he listened to Nathan giving medical instructions.

"Them wounds on all a' y'all need ta be washed regular, couple times a day at least. Boil the water, don't trust no spring water. Use a good lye soap, an' don't scrub hard, just be real gentle. I done made a poultice for Seth, 'cause he could get infected real easy. I'm gon' put a fresh one on him now that he's settled, and there's more in this sack. Change it morning and night, 'til you run out."

"I've never seen a doctor put things inside a body, Mr. Jackson," Lila said calmly. "Are we just to leave them in there?"

Nathan hesitated, and Josiah stepped up beside him to lend silent support. "Nathan? What do you think?" he prodded gently. Nathan sucked in his lower lip, biting the dark flesh gently, and Josiah reached out a hand.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Lila said flatly, looking over at Chris.

"Don't look at me," Chris replied, voice just as flat, "I ain't got no idea about doctoring."

"Well?" Lila demanded impatiently.

Nathan looked over, and Josiah stared back with all his faith, all his confidence in his friend's skill, and all his silent prayers. Nathan stood a bit taller and turned back to face Lila. "Nobody woulda done what I done," he admitted softly. "I wouldn't tell ol' Doc Parson about it, maybe I wouldn't even show him the cut I made, or he might want to poke around inside. He ain't gonna know Seth'll need that arm to run on, ya see, and I know he'd think it was safer to take everything out and just let that arm be a little crippled."

Lila's face softened briefly, minutely, but Josiah saw it and was glad. "Thank you for that effort, Mr. Jackson," she said quietly. "Why would the doctor think removing things now would be safer?"

"'Cause it's crazy, what I done," Nathan said reluctantly. "I just... I had to try somethin' for him, so maybe that bone would heal straight and Seth'd be all right."

Almost immediately, she was all business again. "I understand. So shall we try to remove the items later?"

Nathan paused again, and finally nodded. "Yeah, yeah they oughtta come out, as much as you c'n pull out without puttin' any pressure on that bone. It takes a bone a good four weeks to start knitting properly. After that, prob'ly it'd be time to go in and look. There's a bit of leather, wrapped all the way around, and some string I used, to hold together the part of the break that was just greenstick. There'll be more string in there, and I tapped four or five needles through broke bits of the bone, to help hold the pieces together straight." Nathan became intently focused on the details of Seth's care, and Josiah watched Lila's eyes begin to glaze.

"When you cut that leather off," Nathan continued, using his hands now to help his words, fingers standing in for how the bone should look, "if them pieces are still lined up together, I want you to look at that bone real careful before you decide whether it's time to take them needles out. If it's looking good, then just find yourself some pliers and ease 'em out, don't force nothin'. But if the bone's got too much brown showing, close him back up and wait another three, four weeks maybe. Unless the shoulder starts swelling up more. If it gets as big as it is now, or if he starts gettin' fevers..." Josiah looked around to the others: neither Vin nor Ezra's faces showed a sign of anything at all. Chris looked angrier by the second. JD looked scared. Buck looked concerned.

"Chris?" Buck's voice was quiet, entreating.

"Damn it!" Chris snarled. "Lila, someone c'n bring him back in a month," he growled. "Some *one*. If more'n one of you rides in with him, we start shooting again."

"Six weeks," Nathan interjected, sounding relieved. "Unless'n he gits too swelled up, like I said. And you give him this laudanum every few hours," Nathan added, handing over a brown bottle. "Get yo'self more in Eagle Bend. Try to give it to him 'afore the pain gets him all tensed up. And keep doin' that at least fo' a couple of weeks. I don't want Seth's muscles seizing up and jerking on that bone, not even one bit."

"We could keep him entirely sedated," Lila mused.

Georgia looked alarmed, but Nathan nodded hesitantly. "Keep him sleepy, anyhow. That'd be good. Don't try an' knock him out, though. Laud'num's real strong. He may hanker for it, for a little bit, when you ease him off it, but that's all right. Better'n him hurting that bone now."

"Anything else?" Georgia asked. She'd been following the conversation hawkishly, hanging on every word.

"Just good sense. Keep that shoulder wrapped good, and he ain't to use that arm at all. Maybe he oughtta sleep sittin' up, or propped real high. Don't let him lean on it accidental, like. Don't settle him in any way that he could roll over on it in his sleep."

"And more good sense," Chris interjected, stepping right up to Lila and tilting his chin up a bare inch to meet her eyes. "I'll expect a wire before I see hide or hair of Seth and his minder. Tell us who's bringing him in, when, and from where. If the rest of you catch even a glimpse of this town, then you just rode a foot closer than I'm permitting. Is that understood?"

"Yes, it is, Mr. Larabee," she said dryly. "Assuming John permits Seth to be brought back here-- and under the circumstances, I expect he'll permit it-- you'll hear from me."

Josiah pursed his lips and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. Lila had called Chris "Mr." And Josiah was reasonably sure that the person who would escort Seth in would be Georgia. Who was looking once more at Buck. Who, frowning, stared furtively back from under the edge of his hat brim.

Josiah glanced to Lila's sober face, and back to Georgia's thoughtful one; yep, good omens all around.

CHAPTER 33

Chris felt his men closing ranks behind and beside him, as the buggy and attendant riders on horseback rolled out of sight. "Vin," he said shortly, "Keep your distance, but follow 'em a piece. Make sure they get gone."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Chris glanced over, caught the small, predatory smile that rested so easily on the tracker's face. "Don't stay gone more'n a few hours." He was surprisingly calm now that those bastards had left his town. Unexpectedly calm now that they had two quiet minutes to rub together, and he could think about the fact that Buck could turn himself into the biggest fucking wolf Chris had ever seen. Amazingly calm considering how much he now knew he didn't know about his oldest friend. Irrationally calm given how his body responded again to this man's kind looks and speculative gazes and gentle touches--hell, to just about anything at all. "Buck and me are goin' out to my cabin for a few days," he announced. "Anybody c'n ride out if they want, or if there's a problem in town."

"Somebody ought to go and check on Nettie and Casey," Vin reminded, and Chris looked around at his men. Nathan looked too guilty to help much, there. JD was too scared of the old woman. Chris sure as hell wasn't going to do it himself, and he wasn't letting Buck near the business end of Nettie's rifle, not for a while.

"Josiah, you want to look in on 'em?"

"Be glad to. Ezra, you mind keeping me company?"

"Not at all," Ezra replied. "But I'm still not telling you how I did it." The gold tooth flashed in the late morning sun. Chris refused to ask.

"I'll catch y'all up, if I git back 'fore you do," Vin said.

"I'll ride with Vin," Nathan volunteered.

JD, dragging his boot back and forth in the dirt, mumbled, "I c'n go with Vin and Nate."

It was settled, then. Everyone understood that no one was to be left alone. It looked like nobody wanted to be. "All right. Nathan, you put together whatever medical supplies Buck needs, and I'll come up and fetch 'em before we ride out."

"Any reason we can't get some grub 'fore we take off?" Buck asked placidly, and Chris couldn't say for certain whether Buck was stalling or hungry.

He couldn't say there was any hurry to speak of, either. Gathering the others with a look, he decided. "Go on and order us all something. I got supplies to buy." As easily as that, they parted.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

After a meal with their bellies full, JD and Nathan had dozed in the saddle. Vin couldn't much blame them, and since Dancer and Quinn stopped and started when Peso did, he left them alone. Himself, he felt wide awake, like the earth and the sun behind them just fed him all the life he needed.

The Two-Bloods were gone.

They had followed from a distance, just catching sight of Mary Travis' buggy when they topped rises, and once when Vin pulled them up to rest a mile or so before the road forded a dwindling creek. It would be dry by June, but right now it probably looked like heaven to a pack that had camped dry the night before, and bought nothing in town. When Vin had reached the creek, sure enough, the milling of tracks by the water said they'd stopped to rest, water horses, and fill canteens.

Now, more than two hours from town, Vin stood in his stirrups and used his spyglass. This small rise gave him a good view of the road for a couple miles or more, until it turned behind a hill. He followed it with the spyglass, sweeping left and right. Not even a trail of dust remained in the air.

"They're gone," he said out loud. Red Stone was gone, and the Four Corners pack had just been been shown some respect by the Two-Bloods with the most cause to harm them.

"Looks like," Nathan said quietly.

"Huhmm?" JD mumbled.

Vin leaned out and tapped him on the leg. "They're gone, kid."

"You sure?" JD asked, squinting and trying to look alert.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Ain't no sign of 'em, no dust, nothing."

"Well, that's one more day we all go on livin'," Nathan pronounced, feeling happier inside than his cynical words sounded, even to his own ears.

"That's what you think," JD grumbled, yawning. "We still gotta go to Nettie's."

Vin laughed lightly, said, "She ain't as bad as them Two-Bloods, JD, no matter what you think."

Nathan started chuckling at the sudden picture in his head, and within a minute he was laughing so hard that Quinn started throwing his head.

"What?" JD and Vin asked together.

"Nettie..." he tried, swiping at tears in his eyes, "Miz Nettie. Next time, we'll just sic her on 'em!"

"Oh, very funny," JD snapped.

Vin chuckled. "Shoulda done it this time," he answered, voice dry as bleached bone. He turned Peso off the road and south, onto open land and toward the Wells homestead.

Nathan moved up beside JD and followed, still laughing. He knew it wasn't that funny, recognized the signs of stress and plain old weariness, but it sure was a relief, and it sure did feel good.

"I think you're both crazy," JD threw in, his head swinging back and forth between them like an old gate. "Ain't nothin' gonna feel good about Nettie Wells trying ta tear strips off us."

"You're just worried about Casey," Vin admonished, and Nathan nodded silent agreement. "For no good reason; you didn't turn into nothin'."

"But I knew Buck could," JD argued. Privately, Nathan agreed with that, too. He waited, though, to see what Vin had to say about it.

"Just relax," Vin said placidly, and Nathan watched a contented smile settle on his face. "I told her none of us knew fer more'n a week, and that Buck weren't nothin' to be afraid of."

Instead of relaxing, JD went a sudden, sickly pale. "You didn't tell her--you didn't tell her about, well, forming the pack, did ya?"

Vin laughed out loud. "Hell, no! Ain't nobody's business but our own. I just let Casey do most a' the talking. Told Nettie that Casey was telling the truth, and answered her questions about Two-Bloods."

"You mind answering some a' mine?" Nathan asked. They had a few miles in front of them, and this was the best opportunity he'd had since all this started.

"Nah, go ahead."

Nathan thought about what he'd told Chris this morning, and about what Chris and Buck would no doubt get up to out at Chris' cabin. Unwillingly, he thought about what he and Buck had gotten up to in his own room, how worn out Buck had been, how sore, how determined. How appealing, not for his tired body but for the heart in the man. "Serious, now," he said, compulsively lowering his voice, "Y'all ain't planning on just, well, keeping on with all of these carnal relations, are you?"

Vin squinted his way, said soberly, "You fucked him. What do you think?"

"Aww, come on!" JD, between them, griped.

"You did too, JD," Vin said. "Now ain't the time ta pretend you didn't."

Nathan tried to warn Vin off with a look, but Vin had the sun in his eyes.

"And I swear, JD, if you sit there and try to act like you didn't like it, when you and me and everybody knows you must've--"

"You going out of your way to make him uncomfortable?" Nathan snapped.

"No," Vin said steadily. "But we're either pack, or we ain't. We all did it, we did it fer a reason, an' it's dangerous to ignore that."

"Why?" Nathan pressed. It was exactly this ignorance that was going to get them all into trouble.

"Why what?" Vin said.

"Why's it dangerous to ignore what we done?"

"'Cause Two-Bloods is smarter'n One-Bloods, Nathan." Vin paused to frown. "Nah, that ain't fair; they got better senses, is all. They don't lie about sex, nor about touching, or who they seen or why, nor about what they feel, 'cause it's next to impossible for 'em to keep that kind of thing a secret, with their noses. So they don't pretend, like regular folks do. If we're gonna be a pack, we can't pretend neither. We got to learn to be as honest as they have to be."

"We were honest before, and we didn't have to, well, you know," JD argued, and Nathan let him. It was a relief, really, knowing he wasn't the only one asking these questions, even if the only other person was their youngest.

"The hell we were," Vin retorted. "You think Buck's honest, when he don't reach out and touch you? You think Chris is honest, when he don't take care of Buck? You think you're honest, JD, when you won't even say you liked what you done with him?"

JD colored again, and ducked his head. "You saying I have to say that? 'Cause I can, you know. But liking it that once, when it had to be done, don't mean wanting ta do it again."

Nathan stepped in to save JD any more embarrassment. The boy was practically squirming as it was. "There's plenty a' things ain't got nothin' to do with a bed, JD, that maybe we ain't so truthful about," he allowed. "Just plenty of everyday things. But Vin," he turned the subject back around, "you ain't told us why being like we were before is dangerous."

"Red Stone ain't the only pack out there." Vin frowned, like he was surprised to have to explain this. "Other packs come through Four Corners, on their wanderings."

Nathan felt a cold snake of fear slither through his belly. "Other packs have come through?" And they hadn't known. None of them but Buck. Charming or not, Buck was gonna get sat down and Nathan was gonna have a long talk with him about keeping secrets, and about not telling his friends when danger was near... and that was exactly what Vin was saying, wasn't it?

"If they haven't, they will. If we go struttin' around a regular pack, saying we're the same, without even having no smells on each other, or knowing each other real good--sheeit, they'd tear us to pieces.

"Besides," Vin went on before Nathan could draw breath, "You're both acting like this ain't a change for the better."

Nathan was in it up to his neck, and he wouldn't back out now, but that didn't mean he'd have chosen this, in other circumstances. "Vin," he said carefully, "ain't nobody convinced me it is. We done this for Buck, and I'd do it again to save him, all right?" he went on, uncomfortable. "And I know he did it to protect us, and that it must've been hard for him, real hard. But you're actin' like it's the greatest thing since I don't know what, and I don't see that. Even if I was gonna jump into all that sex, and I sure as hell ain't, I don't know if I'd think we was better off than before."

Vin's face looked anything but enlightened. "I can't say how," Vin said slowly. "I don't know how to explain it, 'cept to say what I've seen. Packs, they're closer'n any family I've ever known. They know each other better, understand each other better, love each other more--"

"You sure that ain't just because they's Two-Bloods?" Nathan asked. "I mean, maybe they're different from us."

But Vin shook his head. "You heard Buck, One-Bloods can be pack, too. Dry Pond had a Comanche One-Blood, and she was like the rest." Vin looked over, and Nathan felt his gaze like a shaft of sunlight, like the pounding of a waterfall right on his chest. "You don't get to be pack just 'cause you say the words."

Finally, Nathan had a glimmering of understanding. He'd lived in Michigan for almost two years before he'd realized that a man wasn't free just because he said he was. He had to act free. He had to be free. He stared out across the rough countryside, not really seeing anything. He hadn't known what freedom was until the war was half over. He didn't think his father had ever really known freedom, even at the end.

They rode in silence for a time. Nathan stewed over what Vin had said, and what he hadn't. Beside him, JD looked ashamed and scared, and held his tongue.

So they had to act like a pack. Touching each other was obviously a part of it, and sharing secrets. That could be hard, with all these white men. Josiah made confiding easy, and Nathan supposed now that there wasn't much he could say that would surprise Buck. But he couldn't see himself sitting down for a heart-to-heart talk with Ezra Standish, or even Chris. Definitely not JD, no matter how much he liked him. "All right then," he finally broke the silence. "All right then, what is it? Day in and day out, I mean, what've we done got ourselves into, here?"

Vin looked far too serene for Nathan's comfort. "It ain't prison, Nate," he said. "And I can't rightly explain it. We ain't Two-Bloods, so we'll be figuring things out as we go, and making up new as we need to. Packs usually live together, though there was a gal in Dry Pond, she liked to wander off for long spells at a time. Nate," he grinned, "you'll like it better'n any of us, because pack mates take care of each other. Really take care of each other, like you try to do for all of us." He chuckled. "Maybe it'll make your job a little easier."

Somehow, Nathan doubted it. "We can't live together," he objected. "Ain't no way we could do that without raising suspicions all over the place."

But Vin just shrugged. "That's what Dry Pond did, and Red Stone. Don't mean all of us have to, and if we don't, well, we'll think of something else. Take Buck, he's told us flat out that he needs touching. I expect each of us'll have our own ways of giving him that, some more respectable than others." Vin nodded toward JD. "JD, you need to feel safe with all of us, and I reckon you're gonna learn real quick how safe you really are." A longer pause, then, "Nate, you know I ain't never cared about you being colored, but I know it bothers you sometimes, worrying what folks'll do, or think. I'll just tell you, you ain't never belonged like you do now."

Silence descended again, but it was pregnant, and Nathan knew Vin was mulling something over in his head. A few minutes later, he said quietly, "I always thought Dry Pond was real honest, with the Comanche and with each other. I didn't get no sense that they kept many secrets among themselves. So I'll start. I like being with the others. Loved fucking Buck," and here, Vin's eyes moved between both of them, measuring and brave. "Loved getting fucked by him just as much. Loved bedding Ezra," he continued over JD's indrawn breath. Nathan was just glad the sun was behind him. "I got no reason to think I won't love bedding Chris as well." A pause, brief and heavy. "Can't say as I ever thought about Josiah like that, but JD, you're purty as a picture, and if you ever decide you want it, I won't say no. Nate, I reckon I wouldn't kick you out a' bed neither, if you wanted to give it a go."

"Good lord." Nathan said it before he could stop himself.

"JD?" Vin prodded, "you ain't got nothin' ta say?"

JD just shook his head, which would have worried Nathan if he didn't have so much on his mind.

There it was, right back to all the sex. He had a feeling Vin would happily crawl naked into a slippery pile with Buck, Ezra and whoever else wanted to be there, and stick his head out only when he needed food or water.

That kind of honesty, Nathan thought he could do without.

He didn't realize how long they had been talking and thinking, talking and thinking, until the low hills started to rise before them. Vin picked up his pace, and they all broke into a trot that would see them to Nettie Wells' cabin before suppertime, though Nathan didn't for one second think that she'd feed them, in light of all that had happened.

Before long they reached the rutted, grassy road that went past Nettie Wells' place. They weren't far off now, he could tell by JD's fidgeting even if he didn't know the road. But before they reached her home, Nathan caught sight of Maverick, grazing beneath a tree. "Hold up, y'all," he said, drawing his pistol.

But a lone figure appeared from behind the tree trunk: Ezra. "Gentlemen," he greeted, chewing idly on a piece of grass. He held his whiskey flask prominently in one hand. "What a pleasant time for a Sunday ride."

Nathan frowned. "What the hell are you doin' out here, Ezra?"

Ezra just shrugged, and took a sip from his flask. "I said I'd accompany Josiah to the Wells homestead; I said nothing about incurring the wrath of that old crone."

"You mean you let him go in there all alone?" Nathan barked.

Vin held up a staying hand. "Nathan, it's just a girl and an old woman. It ain't the army Josiah's done marched in against."

Disgruntled, Nathan looked from Ezra's unwrinkled finery to Vin's amused and affectionate indulgence. "Still," he tried.

"Still, nothing," Ezra disallowed. "Nathan, you are more than welcome to join me for a drink and polite conversation, right here. Or, you may ride on, and consider that I've got your backs." He grinned widely, gold tooth glinting subtly in the shade of the tree.

"I ain't staying here, Ezra, not when I c'n maybe help."

"Then by all means, into the breach, dear friends."

Nathan glared, and rode on by to Ezra's polite and superior laughter. He turned to say something to Vin, but realized he'd lost the man; Peso stood beside Maverick, and Vin leaned down low, exchanging private words.

So much for not keeping secrets.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

The sun was still strong but definitely gaining on the horizon. Chris sat under his porch roof in a ladder-backed chair, watching events in the corral. It was a shame, really, that they had decided to geld Steele. That horse had such a good temper, it would have been worth breeding him even with that odd breadth of his shoulders. Yep, Steele was just too good-tempered, too smart, too intelligently sedate, to have given up on that lineage for shoulder form. He was loyal too, like Buck had always claimed, and gentle; Buck leaned against the inside of the fence, his boot heel resting back on a rail. It looked like Steele could sense his injuries, and accommodate for them; his nosing for a chunk of sugar cane was patient, unhurried. He sniffed and nuzzled today, where usually he would have butted Buck's chest, or lipped his shoulder to persuade Buck to give it up.

Chris could empathize with that horse.

"Buck," he called out, "let 'em have it."

The boot heel came off the rail and Buck stood tall, leaned to one side, used his right hand to worm jerkily in his pants pocket. Steele whuffed, waited, laid his ears back and bared his teeth at Pony and one of the new mares as each tried to crowd Buck for the treat. Buck's soft laughter carried as far as the house, and it called to mind easy times, good times.

There had never been a time with Buck when they'd both been innocent; he'd already learned just how fast his draw was, and Ella had happened, and part of the War, and everything about Buck's past that he was slowly piecing together. But right now it felt innocent. It felt innocent when Buck nuzzled Steele's cheek rather than raise his injured arms, and when he emptied his pocket onto the ground for the others then ducked through the rails and walked so tall. Buck Wilmington was all loose limbs and ease, charm holding all the pieces together like he didn't even need any bones in his body.

God, Buck could act the fool and revel in it, but right now, watching that long-legged strut, that lanky form with the afternoon sun behind it, it was easy to love Buck again. In fact, watching him stride in before the sun--really watching him--Chris couldn't rightly understand how he'd ever kept himself from it.

Buck walked under the roof's edge, blocking the sun from Chris' eyes. "Talk now, huh?" Buck asked reluctantly.

Chris stood up and stepped forward, impulsive. His fingers found their way up into Buck's hair and tugged him down for a kiss that went on far beyond his first inclination. He pulled back, looked at the fire and the hunger and the love in Buck's eyes, and whispered, "Talk later."

But later, Buck fell asleep.

Before sleep, and after soft, easy relations where they shared long kisses, Buck slid to his knees beside the bed and Chris let him. The broad, flat licks over his groin, smoothing his pubic hair, like Buck needed to taste every inch of him down there, made an eerie kind of sense now. Those same lapping strokes up his length made his manhood twitch and jerk with need. Before he could get lost in it, Chris eased Buck back onto the bed and took his place on the floor, and a slow stroke of tongue down that crease between torso and thigh sent a tight shudder through Buck's lean body. Smiling, Chris put his mouth to more intimate use. It had been a long, long time since he'd done this. Every move, every detail was familiar, and welcome: the stretch of his lips, the heat, Buck's taste, his smells, the sounds of Buck's hitching breaths.

"Get up here," Buck ordered softly, stopping him a few minutes later. Chris, feeling the same need to look the other man in the eye, obeyed and climbed back into bed.

They lay next to each other, Buck on his left side and Chris on his right. Buck pushed his thigh between Chris', and encouraged an easy thrust. Chris rocked against him, and kept his eyes open the whole time, right through the end, watching Buck watch him. When he got his breath back, he swiped his hand across the wetness on their bellies and slid his palm down Buck's cock, stroking, hungry for the pleasure that infused Buck's face, clouding the indigo eyes. Buck gave it to him, the shudders and groans, the wide-open gaze, the slick outpouring of seed. Then Buck dropped his head back and was dozing before his breath evened out.

Chris rolled off the narrow bed before Buck's sprawling shoved him off anyway, loaded the stove and started supper. He wasn't even sure if Buck had ever liked this meal, given his love for rare meat and such. But if the flour wasn't appreciated, the chicken would be. He knew for a fact Buck could eat cooked chicken until his stomach distended.

He let his lover sleep until the food was cooked, and woke him by dint of picking up the pan and a spoon, and returning, naked, to the bed. As he blew on his own steaming bites, Buck's mustache twitched, tiny lines between Buck's dark eyebrows smoothed out like a baby's, and the beginnings of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this was a good memory for Buck, too.

Suddenly, startingly, Buck jerked awake. Chris saved the pot, worried when Buck's eyes searched wildly around the room before landing solidly on the food. Face softening, Buck asked, "You made chicken 'n dumplings?"

"Yeah."

Buck's face softened even further. "Sarah's dumplings?" he asked, voice as gentle as a lamb's.

Chris felt silly now. "It's Sunday," he muttered in his own defense.

"You ain't done that in a long, long time," Buck said quietly, stretching as he maneuvered himself upright.

"Did you like 'em?" Chris asked, trying to change the subject.

"Are you kidding?" Buck asked, surprised. "Adam and me used to fight to wash the pan, so we could get out the last licks." He leaned over and opened his mouth, making faces and panting when Chris fed him a too-hot mouthful. "Damn, you done 'em perfect! I can't believe you remember how to cook this."

"I remember plenty," Chris said diffidently. He fed Buck another bite, and decided that if he soaked anything in meat broth, it would go down all right.

Buck stared over at him, chewing slowly. "Yeah," he finally said. "Me, too."

"I expect you remember more than me," Chris offered, trying to get the ball rolling, and Buck sighed.

"Talk now?" Buck asked.

"Reckon it's past time."

Buck sighed. "Hell, some of it I always wanted to tell you. And plenty you already know. Lots more, well, ain't worth knowing."

"Then start wherever you want," Chris offered, spooning up another mouthful for Buck, then for himself. Sitting naked in bed with Buck, eating a hot meal out of the pot, it felt so good, deep down.

"Anywhere I want, huh?" Buck asked, leaning toward the pan.

"Mmm hmm."

Buck ate several more bites in silence, but it was a comfortable one, and Chris didn't push. Then, "You knew my mother died when I was sixteen."

"Yeah. You told me she'd been killed by a customer." He tried not to make it sound like an accusation.

Buck seemed uncomfortable, nervous maybe, and pinned him with a look. "She was. I didn't lie to you Chris, I swear I never did."

"You just left a lotta holes."

Buck nodded slowly, guiltily. "I guess you could say that."

"So? We ain't going nowhere. Start filling 'em in."

Buck stuttered, and muttered, and took another dumpling, chewing slowly.

"Buck? Tell me about your ma."

He should've thought of that before; Buck's eyes lit up with joy, and a slow smile crept out. "Well," Buck began, and Chris sat back and ate, and listened, and made his own private judgments of what he heard. No woman was as good as Buck made Virginia Wilmington out to be, and certainly no whore on the run, and while he'd never questioned Buck's love for the woman before, he couldn't help but do it more and more, the longer Buck talked.

It was obvious she'd done plenty of things right as a mother, and Chris couldn't deny his impression that she'd loved Buck to pieces and made great sacrifices for him. But the way Buck made allowances for the misdeeds he did admit to sounded too much like the way Buck defended Chris. By the time Buck got to details of the decades-old horse whipping, Chris decided the woman had been incompetent to do the job she'd taken on, and expected the kid Buck had been to carry far too much of the load. Nonetheless, Buck revered her.

"Yeah," he said, to keep Buck from having to say too much, "you told me about that. I didn't know he'd violated you, though."

Buck chuckled. "A horse whipping's a hell of a violation, Chris."

Chris frowned. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," Buck nodded, sobering. "Yeah."

Chris kept his eyes on the dumpling pan, and the few remaining bites swimming around in thick broth. "I'm gonna ask you something."

Buck's breath hitched, but he said nothing.

"So you got forced--what, three times?"

"Five."

Chris tried to digest that alongside the dumplings that had been turning to rocks in his stomach. "How the hell could you ever want a man to touch you? I mean, it ain't natural in the first place really, is it?"

"Don't know what's natural," Buck said plainly. "Just know what I like, and what I don't." With a low chuckle, Buck leaned in to nuzzle the soft skin at the corner of Chris' eye. "And I know what you like, 'n what you don't."

Chris felt the hairs on his forearms prickle as gooseflesh danced over his limbs--in anticipation of future pleasure or memory of pleasures past, he couldn't say. But he couldn't let the other go. "Ain't right, a man getting forced like that," he mumbled. "Ain't right that happening so many times."

"Chris," Buck said with a longsuffering sigh, "a' course it ain't right. But it happens all the time, to people who can't defend themselves. My own mother got forced a whole lot more times than me, and if she could live through it and smile, I sure as hell wasn't gonna go moaning on and on about it."

So that answered the rarely pondered question of why Buck lost his ability to think when he heard a woman's scream. Chris had always thought it was just because Buck thought with his dick and because of how his mother had died. Chris realized, with a keen sense of shame, that he'd never asked these questions. That if he had, Buck would've told him some part of the truth. That maybe Buck would've told him everything. He'd just thought from the beginning that he knew Buck and didn't need words or details to ever know him any better.

"How come you never told me?" he ventured. He was almost afraid to ask, afraid he'd start a fight. But Buck just laughed, a short, sharp sound.

"Ain't an easy topic to work into conversation," Buck said slowly.

"Neither is the fact that somebody burned you when you were a kid, or that your ma was a whore. Neither was me making you promise you'd stay with Sarah and Adam, and take care of 'em if anything ever happened to me."

"Well," Buck said, trying to make light of things, "that woudn't've been no hardship."

It would have been more hardship than Buck pretended, to settle down with one woman, one Buck hadn't even chosen for himself, and solely because Chris had been sick, and scared of dying, and had asked. "I'm serious, Buck."

Buck looked at him, his face shadowed in the dim room. "I was scared to," Buck admitted. "You were my only family, Chris, then Sarah and that boy. This wasn't 'oh, I killed a man once,' or 'oh, mother was a prostitute, so be nice to these gals 'cause they work harder than you'll ever know.' This wasn't even 'I know how to make you feel real good.' This was 'I ain't exactly human.' And Chris," Buck urged, calling out the truth in him, "you can be awful narrow-minded, sometimes."

Chris chewed on that for a long moment, while he fed the remains of the meal to Buck. All right. So he'd learned a lot from Buck, over the years. He'd learned to tell a syphilitic whore from a healthy one, that being sucked was safer than fucking, and that older women were less expensive yet more experienced. He'd taken two women at once, and shared one or more with Buck and lain with Buck alone and, generally speaking, thought himself a man of the world before marriage. Somehow, in the face of all that bodily experience, it had never occurred to him that Buck thought him a prude.

"'Member them gypsies we saw, down in Mexico?" Buck prodded. "Remember how you barely tolerated 'em? And all they did was that that dumb witch dancing. I'm sorry, Chris, but I just--no offense--I thought you'd kill me."

"I wouldn't have killed you, Buck," he promised, sure of that, at least. He was pretty sure of that.

"Well. That's why. If it makes you feel any better, I came close to telling you a lotta times. Came real close, after the fire. Then I figured, it'd be worse, then. That you might feel like you'd lost the friend you knew. So I just kept my trap shut."

"That's fair," he allowed. And it was, damn it. As Buck went on talking, as Chris heard vague summaries of childhood events so grisly he felt the bile rise in his throat, he could understand how Buck wouldn't be the most trusting of One-Blood men. He set the pan down and eased Buck back, running careful, examining fingers over each old scar as Buck told of it. It made Buck uncomfortable, but Chris couldn't seem to stop.

He knew about the bullet scar on Buck's thigh; it was from the War, and they'd met because of that wound. And he knew about the bullet that had gone through Buck's side. The knife burn, he hadn't known was self-inflicted, nor that another brand had been placed beneath it, nor that any man was sick enough to want to do that to a child. By the time Buck told him about the man whose innards he had spread across a state line, he decided that, in a way, he was damned lucky. Whatever he had done to Buck, it was nothing compared to what these bastards had done before him.

Cold comfort, that. Chris rested his head against Buck's chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. "You know I ain't gonna be perfect," he whispered, hating himself. "You know I'm not gonna change overnight."

Buck's head came up, nose nuzzling his hair. "I'm not asking you to change at all. I like you just fine, how you are."

Buck was the only one who did.

It was near dusk when Buck finally wound down, and Chris paid attention to the happy tales as well, of a bright, cheerful kid amidst a gaggle of women who thought him charming and kind. Without being asked, Buck had avoided bedroom stories, as if he'd told enough of those in the past years that they had no place here, now. His voice began to fade a little, rough with use.

"You tired?"

"I'm tired a' talking," Buck said quietly. "If you don't mind."

"Let me go and feed the horses, you just settle down." He slid out of bed and stepped over his clothes, walking barefoot to the bin by the house where he kept the oats, and scooped up two coffee cans full. He made the trip twice, but four horses needed more than that--he'd stake them out in the morning, let them graze awhile. They'd keep, tonight. Just like Buck's stories, the pieces he kept filling in between the pieces Chris had already known--smaller pieces than Chris had imagined, before. Important pieces, to be sure, but... none of it changed Buck, or who he was, or what he'd always been.

He let himself back in silently, in case Buck was asleep again, but his friend sat up in bed, staring at the door. "You coulda come with me," Chris said quietly.

Buck just shook his head and grinned. "Gotta be able to let you outta my sight for more'n the time it takes to piss, don't I?"

It rankled, that Buck kept thinking he'd leave, but Buck had said not five minutes ago that he was tired of talking, so Chris kept his mouth shut. Events and lack of sleep were catching up with him anyway. "I'm ready to curl up and sleep for a couple days. How about you?"

Buck's grin broadened, and he eased over in the bed to make room. They'd be a snug fit. And that would be good, so good. "You know you're standing there naked?"

Chris glanced down at himself. "I reckon I do."

"Well, stud, why don't you come park all that purty bare skin over here by ol' Buck?"

The accent was thick and familiar, the half-brazen tones Buck used when flirting with women, and it made Chris smile. "I think I can manage that," he replied, "but it's gonna take a lot more than your animal magnetism to get anything but sleep from me."

Buck just shrugged and settled on his back. Chris curled up, threw an arm and a leg over him, and slid around until he was comfortable. He really would sleep long and hard.

"You think Josiah and the boys are all right?" It had the sound of idle speculation, but there was concern in Buck's voice, too.

"Of course they're all right. I can't believe all a' y'all are scared of one old woman."

"Shit, JD's the only one scared of her," Buck huffed.

"Then they're all right."

Buck's warmth seeped into him, his chest, belly, the inside of his arm and thigh. He was content, and exhausted, and if Buck needed to get chatty now, he'd have to go and talk to his horse.

"She ain't gonna hurt 'em," Chris said quietly. "And they're all together. Get some sleep." Before Buck could say anything else, Chris faded off.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

"I oughtta shoot every last one of ya, for trying to make me believe such a cockamamie story."

Vin coughed back his amusement, and tried to share it with Nathan and JD. Sitting beside him on the porch, they both looked as grim as pallbearers. "Y'all think she's gonna say that a few more times, 'fore we leave?" he joked. JD just glared at him.

Nathan shook his head in dismay. "How long is she gonna go on like this?"

"Long as she wants to," Vin said proudly. Nettie Wells had more spunk and spark in her than a dozen women half her age. "You think she'll feed us?"

JD scowled toward the lowering sun. "Rusty nails, maybe. I ain't eating nothin' even if she does set it in front of me."

Vin just chuckled again, as quietly as he could. He'd laughed inside before, at something, and that was what had got him chased out. Nothing riled Nettie so much as him being amused when she was angry.

Come to think of it, Nettie and Chris had that in common.

The voices that filtered out were quieter, now, a mumbling background lull again, and Vin wondered if it was time for him to go back inside. "It might take her a few days to settle down," he assured, "but she'll be fine."

Nathan muttered, "You got more faith than Josiah, if'n you believe that, Vin."

Before Vin could reply, Casey's raised voice spilled out, her first words in at least a quarter of an hour. "I c'n half-way understand you not believing one of them, Aunt Nettie," she cried out, "but I can't stand that you won't believe me!"

JD stiffened as footsteps pattered inside and the door flew open behind them. Casey didn't slow down though, just leapt down the stairs and ran out into the yard. "Casey!" he yelled, and he was off the porch and after her, quick as a rabbit. He caught her beneath the big oak tree, and wouldn't let go.

"Would you look at that?" Nathan commented, staring after them. "I hate to say it, but this may've done JD some good." Vin just looked at him, surprised. Nathan shrugged. "Look how quick he is to get to her side."

What with everything else that had been going on, JD's courtship had been low on Vin's list of priorities. But Nathan was right; JD had hovered over her all last night, and was acting like a good suitor now, seeing to her as best he could. "He's been real good to her through all this, hasn't he?"

"Yeah. He has."

Vin wasn't so sure it was a good thing. Casey was sixteen, and while that was well into marrying age, Nettie had sheltered her more than was good for her. Just the things that went on between men and women would scare her. Vin couldn't imagine her understanding what went on inside a pack. Hell, half the boys didn't understand it, yet. "He ain't gonna start rushing things along with her, is he?" he wondered aloud.

The front door opened again before Nathan answered. "Vin?" Josiah said. He sounded tired. "Maybe we'd best just head back into town before it gets dark."

Nettie would have to see Buck. Chris had already said no, so somebody's mind was going to have to change. "Yeah, all right. Maybe we'll get in 'fore Inez runs out of food."

"I got some leftovers in my room," Nathan offered. "Bread and biscuits from this mornin'."

Vin couldn't hold back a smile as he turned to look at Nathan. Some of the changes, they'd be more natural to Nathan Jackson than the man would possibly imagine. "Come on, then, let's see if Nettie'll let us go." He stood up and stretched his back before following Nathan and Josiah back inside.

From his place beneath the shadows of the tree, JD watched Nathan and Vin re-enter the house, and tightened his hold on Casey's elbow. "It'll be all right," he promised, though he wasn't completely sure how.

Casey sniffled, and another little sob slipped out of her. "She thinks I'm crazy, JD! And I ain't so sure I'm not."

"You ain't crazy," he repeated. He'd been saying that a lot, maybe because he needed to hear it himself, but it was true and he wouldn't quit until she believed him.

CHAPTER 34

It was before dawn when Buck woke, hot and half-squashed under a body that he'd happily bear for the rest of his life, if only he was given the chance. He inhaled deeply; the room smelled stale, closed up like it was, and thick with their scents and the leftover aroma of last night's dinner. Sunday dumplings.

Moving carefully, he eased onto his side and stared down at Chris. The man looked years younger in sleep, and almost happy, and Buck wished he could see the dreams that traveled behind the twitching eyes. Asleep or no, the signs of age were clear; sun and hard times lined Chris' face, and the first hints of gray touched at his left temple. Buck recalled how young that face had been when they first met, the only lines then drawn by pain and determination. Chris had himself a lot of determination.

As he watched Chris sleep, a powerful emotion washed through him, slipping up slowly until he was almost consumed by it; it slid hooks into his belly and chest and throat, tugging on his insides like pain.

Something had happened between them when they'd first met; Chris had a knack for reading a man, and Buck had thought that was all it was. They'd both been wounded and shared an identical goal, and they had settled into an understanding without a word being spoken. There weren't a lot of One-Bloods that could do that. They'd helped each other, Buck guiding him around enemy soldiers, Chris dragging him when he couldn't walk on his leg anymore, and they'd wound up in a Union field hospital two days later.

He hadn't realized anything else had happened, until he saw Chris again. And then he'd known, just looked at the man, and recognized something about his smile, something about the way his eyes sparkled, and known. But Chris hadn't.

Buck hadn't had a single problem reconciling himself to that fact. He'd been alone for so long that the immediate, unquestioning loyalty Chris gave him had felt like cool water on a parched throat, and he had drunk deeply of it, even as he knew this particular thirst would never be quenched. Buck was more than happy with the friendship Chris offered, and later, the guarded, uncomfortable love. That Chris didn't know, or didn't love him the same, had never bothered him one whit, because they'd been as close as Buck thought brothers must be, closer even, when he'd tempted Chris into physical pleasures. Closer still, when Chris had met Sarah and Buck had stood by him, and the sex had fallen away.

Sarah had been both sister and mother to him, like Adam had been brother and son. Even Chris had drawn closer, as if a woman in the picture was what he'd needed to be able to say he loved a man. That was what family felt like, what home felt like, and it had ripped out a part of Buck's heart when all of it, every bit of it, had gone up in smoke. He'd never seen a man hurt so badly and grieve so hard and still drag himself up every day. He'd never thought Chris would survive that kind of pain. But here he was, alive, sober, and asleep in Buck's arms.

The wrappings kept Buck from raising his hand, so he touched Chris' face with his eyes, gaze smoothing along his jaw and over sandy lashes, over angles turned to gray and shadow, in the dark. He had never really expected to be back in this man's bed, to have the privilege of watching this lover sleep after easy pleasures. The fact that they were here now, it hurt bad, and felt good, and he didn't want to steel himself for when it stopped again, or changed. He knew he'd have to, but... not today.

Chris began to stir while Buck watched, until his body jerked and tensed, like it often did, and his eyes flew open. "Buck?" he called out, before he was truly awake.

"It's still early," Buck soothed. "Go back to sleep." But Chris' head turned toward him, eyes seeking blindly in the dark. Buck watched the pale irises get swallowed up as the pupils dilated wide, and knew the second that Chris sorted out the darkness in the room from the deeper shadows of his face.

"I..." Chris paused, swallowed. "I was dreaming."

"Yeah?"

But Chris shook his head, and a smile spread across his face, satisfied and content. "Nothing." The voice was soft, and tender, and Buck felt those hooks in his belly dig a little deeper. "How come you're awake?"

"Just woke up a little bit ago. I expect I'll go back to sleep in a minute."

Chris' eyes, still trying to see him, darted back and forth. Buck had never known what it was, to be blind at night. He had to be in a mine shaft before he couldn't see at all, and the idea that One-Bloods were, that Chris was so vulnerable at night...

"You all right?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Then, "I wish I could touch you, damn it."

Chris' face, unguarded in the darkness, softened even further. "I ain't got that problem," he breathed, and Buck frowned before Chris continued, "I c'n touch you all I want."

He couldn't hold back a chuckle, but it turned into a cough when Chris leaned in and licked his throat. Shivers ran down his arm to his fingertips, and made his whole body twitch.

"See?" Chris said, but of course Buck couldn't because Chris' face was tucked in against his neck, his hot breath chilling the dampened skin. "I can touch you all I want." Chris' hands came into play then, random, generous touches. A finger traced along the top of the bandages on his chest, and then walked down over his ribs. It dallied briefly on an old scar before wandering again, rubbing, kneading the narrowest part of his waist, teasing toward the flesh of his back. Chris rose up to reach more of him, and Buck just lay there and wallowed in the gentle affections.

It took a few minutes to recognize what Chris was doing, to interpret what the soft touches meant. And there were many, scrapes of calloused fingertips at the fine skin behind his ear, lips mapping a line down the bridge of his nose, easing toward his eyes and forcing him to close them, so that kisses landed like butterflies on his lids. Yesterday's quiet handling had been rare enough in Buck's experience with this man, but this--Chris had never done this to him before. Chris' hands didn't roam toward his groin, but soothed and petted and traced lines of muscle or bone or scars, while lips dragged, open and warm and damp, over his eyebrow, his temple, the hollow of his cheek. Buck wanted to just sink into this with every fiber of his being, to suck it in and store it up for cold winters, but he was sun-scorched earth; he couldn't draw all the water in, and his breath climbed and shortened with early panic.

"Chris?" he breathed.

"Shhh," Chris replied, the soft sibilant sound making him shiver as Chris rose up to his knees beside him. Arrested, Buck took in the pale, shaded lines of him, the tight belly and corded thighs, the erect cock that jutted so silent and ignored from the dark-shadowed vee of his legs. And Chris, damn him, just kept touching him like everything was all right. A hand mapped soothing circles on his belly, while another incited, found the general area of his nipples beneath the wrappings over his chest and dragged nails over the cloth. When fingers eased gently down into his pubic hairs, Buck wondered where all the air had gone, of a sudden.

"Chris?" he tried again, and had to clear his throat.

A kiss, lush and wet like a summer forest after a rain, silenced him. Chris stared so intently when it ended that Buck fancied the man could actually see his face. In no hurry at all, a hand cupped the curve of his hip, rolled into the indentation on the side of his buttock. Chris' other hand touched his mouth, and a gentle fingernail found that most sensitve line just between his upper lip and the bottom of his mustache. The touch made his nose wrinkle, a tickling tingle running up the bristles to the skin above his lip; Chris' breathy chuckle sounded so soft on the air, and Buck's body felt leaden and overburdened with sensation, while his skin hissed and tingled like the chill air beneath a waterfall.

Chris' breath came heavy and slow, in cadence with more kisses, and Buck matched the rhythm instinctively. This, this was a thing to savor as best he could, and he lifted his head to follow when Chris pulled away. Soft laughter broke the spell. Buck opened his eyes at the sound, and witnessed the quiet, passionate joy on Chris' face, and felt the first prickle of tears behind his eyelids. Those little hooks inside him, from pelvis to throat, they jerked all at once, so hard he thought that something might tear right out of him.

Sucking in a breath and holding it, he felt his body like a tangle of logs in a flooded river, all snarled and pushed and dragged by the water. He wanted to go where the water pushed him, wanted desperately just to give himself over into Chris' blatantly loving care... but he'd done it too many times before, and he was beginning to forget how to trust that something good would come of it. He had no rudder to guide him through the storm of feelings that Chris raised up inside him. He couldn't keep from trembling.

He was afraid of this.

"Uh," he managed.

"You like that? Like I have to ask," Chris said knowingly, still blind and not understanding at all. Of course he liked it, how could any sane man not like the touches that slid over his ass and down between his legs, encouraging one leg to lift, to make more room for more feather-soft touches inside his thighs? How could a body not crave the wealth of emotion in those touches? They spoke as loud as words, as honestly as any look shared or action taken.

His cock, confused by the absence of lust, was slow to rise. When a hand finally cupped it, it twitched and jerked and surged with blood, and Chris looked startled, proud, pleased. Buck watched Chris' face, the attention Chris' whole body paid to what he was doing in the dark. He'd never known it was possible to want something this much. He'd never known this could even exist, for him. And he didn't know how to accept it, not from this man.

His breath hitched, and Chris went still. Tension replaced the easy, exploratory strokes, and Chris' face turned blindly toward his. "Buck?"

Buck didn't know what to say. He just lay there, terrified, and watched that beautiful look on Chris' face sink beneath a frown. One hand moved, more slowly, and cupped his balls. The other, Buck could feel it slide up his chest, over his bandages, along his throat. He wanted to duck away, but Chris' face had already gone stern and calculating, and he knew he wouldn't get far. When Chris touched the tears, worry darkened his eyes, and he rubbed a thumb over his damp fingertips. "You hurting?"

"No." He cleared his throat, forced himself to think past the roiling emotions inside him. "I swear I ain't," he said, urgent not to distract the man. "This is, I..." he wanted to say it, and Chris' concerned look practically invited him to. But he wasn't a complete fool, no matter what many thought. If he told Chris he didn't trust him, they'd be on their feet and arguing within five minutes, and he'd miss this, and this might be his only chance... "Don't stop," he whispered instead.

Chris' confusion was obvious in his frown, in the way his touches became heavier, and more familiar. Anxious, Buck fidgeted under Chris' hand at his groin, tried to get it moving again. "Please, Chris," he whispered. Don't slow down. I'll fall apart, mess this up, chase you off. "Don't stop."

"Something's wrong," Chris said quietly. The tone carried such finality that Buck nearly panicked.

"Yeah, you've stopped," he complained, and sniffed. He shifted under Chris' hands, urging them to move again. But Chris was worried now. The hand in his crotch snuck away to rest nervously on his thigh.

"Fuck me," Buck whispered, ordered, begged, and watched the desire slam into Chris like a fist. Buck arched up and groaned when Chris leaned over him and their mouths met, hard and strong. He'd just found the lust.

He tried to follow again when Chris pulled away, but a hand on his chest held him down, and Chris' forehead bumped his own. "I won't," he panted. "You've got to be sore."

"That was days ago, and I ain't made of glass." He thrust up, tilting his hips to get the innocent hand on his leg to do something much less innocent to his cock.

"You shouldn't--"

"Do it," he said, firming his voice. That would break through him. That would damned well level him.

"I don't want--"

"Do it!" he nearly shouted, and Chris' concern turned to exasperation in a heartbeat.

Chris frowned darkly, and drew a deep, decisive breath. "I swear," he muttered darkly, climbing over him and feeling around in the dark until he produced the pot of salve Nathan had sent out, "I'm gonna figure you out before long."

The threat scared him almost as much as the tenderness did, but Buck could only handle one thing at a time. Chris' hand, slick with the oil, grasped his cock and stroked it once, hard, and oh hell yes, he'd found the lust. Pushed along as it was by everything that had come before it, he didn't stand a chance of resisting it. Buck laughed, relief swamping him, and tightened his muscles to tap his erection against belly. He'd almost frightened the poor thing away.

He opened his legs and tilted his hips up to make things easier, and when Chris' fingers pushed into him, he refused to hiss or flinch--he was sore, no two ways about it. But it would be good, because it would be Chris, and the sensations would be strong, strong enough to break through the fear inside. Chris bent down and slid a shoulder behind his knee, and Buck sighed, watching Chris dip his fingers one last time into the jar and slick them down that beautiful, beloved cock. Yes, yes yes yes, his brain worked feverishly, his body somehow distant now even though he was aware of every movement, every touch. Chris lined up cock to crack and Buck pushed against him, drew in a long, steady breath as Chris breached him.

"That all right?" Chris asked, concern creeping back.

"You're acting like a girl," Buck hissed, and nearly laughed again when Chris' mouth flattened into a grim line. Buck would swear on a stack of Bibles that the thrust that followed was involuntary and instinctive, but still, he barely resisted a grunt of pain.

"You are the most irritating," another inch slid in, more carefully, the stretch a stinging burn, "aggravating," another inch, and Buck breathed a sigh of relief, "stubborn, close-mouthed..." by the time Chris got to "bastard," his balls pressed snugly against Buck's ass, and Buck concentrated entirely on keeping his breath steady. "...I have ever known. I don't know what you're playing at, Buck," he harangued, "and I don't think you do either." He was winding down, though, now that he was inside. Buck risked a touch, using his left hand and just dragging his knuckles down the thin, pale chest.

"But it sure feels good, don't it?" he enticed, and curved his spine, pushing his hips up to take more of Chris' weight.

Chris, for once, didn't take the bait. He lowered himself instead, and, breaths harsh with distracted pleasure, rested his head under Buck's chin and just lay there. Buck almost wished Chris would get mad. When he was mad, he didn't look too closely.

"Chris?"

"It always felt good," Chris said, almost conversationally. "First time I did this to you, it scared the hell out of me, it felt so good. Not just the push and shove, but..." he trailed off into a long pause, during which Buck's mind raced. He wondered if he needed to start worrying again. "It don't scare me no more, Buck," Chris continued. "I don't know what's scared you, but I ain't scared anymore." His full weight pressed down, and his hands brushed up Buck's sides. "So you just relax, I'm not going anywhere. And in a minute, yeah, I'll drill you through the mattress. Deal?"

Buck, not knowing what else to say, whispered, "Deal."

"All right then." Chris raised his head and stared down, though the pre-dawn light was hardly enough for him to actually see by. "Truth, now," he breathed. "How sore are you?"

He shrugged, and lied. "Not bad."

"Uh huh. What about this 'honesty in the pack' line, was that all horse shit?"

Buck swallowed, glanced away. This could get tricky. "No, it ain't."

"Then how sore are you?"

"I'm sore," he muttered, "and I'm glad you're in me. All right?"

Chris nodded. "All right." An experimental push, not even quite a thrust, made Buck twitch in assorted pleasure and discomfort. Chris grinned suddenly, brilliantly, and Buck felt his belly muscles clutch at that look. "Maybe better'n all right, huh?"

Buck let out a breathless chuckle, and shook his head fondly. Chris thrust again, and Buck winced and arched into it and grunted, all at the same time.

"No drilling, I guess," Chris commented.

Buck would have preferred the drilling, the loss of himself to sensations good, bad or indifferent, but before he could speak up, Chris dropped his head down and found his mouth unerringly, and the next thrust was an achingly slow, smooth glide. Full lips pressed lightly against his own, barely open, not quite kissing even, just breathing the same air. Chris was doing it again, and Buck wriggled fitfully. Chris' response was to open his mouth and slide his tongue out.

Chris was right; he was scared of this. And he had good reason to be, he told himself, kissing back with all the tenderness he had, all the tenderness Chris showed him now. Their tongues touched and curled and slid alongside each other, licking inside the dark spaces, reaching into every recess with lazy, intimate ease.

Buck tried to focus on the little things: the sharp friction on his inner flesh and just at the mouth of his ass, even with the oil; the craved sensation of Chris' cock in him and the space it made for itself; the sweat that made their bellies slick, and that slickness against his hot-and-cold manhood. Another thrust inside him, slow as molasses, incited the raw nerves and the grasping walls and fed his deeper craving.

Turning his head to break the kiss, he muttered, "Hurry up."

But Chris was having none of it. "I ain't hurrying this," he breathed softly, slowly. "This ain't s'posed to be rushed."

Buck let Chris turn his head back for more kisses, while those hooks in him dug in that much harder, so bad he had to gasp to get air past the tight pain. The tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and ran down his temples, into his hair, and he opened his jaw wider, letting Chris further in. It seemed he was always letting Chris further in, without nearly enough thought to what would happen when Chris let himself back out.

He tried to block the hand that moved up toward his head again, but Chris ignored the effort. Amidst kisses and slow, deep thrusts, Chris' fingers caressed the corners of his eyes. It was what it was, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. More tears squeezed out, even as he wrapped his leg around Chris' waist to anchor himself, and held on for dear life. The damp mouth slid off his and up to nuzzle his temple. The pointed tongue slid out and licked, soft and thorough.

"You're gonna tell me what's going on, real soon," Chris stated quietly, like it was a fact. But for the moment, all Chris did was thrust again, testing, until he found a pace that Buck couldn't resist, fast enough for the pleasure, slow enough not to spike the pain. His body seemed to thrum, to vibrate like a tuning fork, while Chris' fingers moved to disperse the water into his hair. Chris was making love to him, and that knowledge stole his breath, his thoughts, and for a brief, endless time, even his fears.

Afterward, they curled together in silence, as dawn chased away the shadows. Buck just breathed, and listened to his body tell him how wonderful Chris had made it feel.

Damn but his butt hurt. His shoulder socket complained too, from him arching his back and rearing up too much. Chris, beside him, drew lazy circles on his seed-streaked belly, and breathed wetly onto the ridge of muscle above his breast. Buck's good humor began to win out over his lax satiation, and he chuckled once, then a little more.

"Whunh?" Chris slurred, his lips mashed against Buck's skin.

"The way you're gaspin' and a pantin', I guess I gave you a good piece of exercise there, pard," he said, stretching to try and ease his aches.

Chris groaned and forced himself up on an elbow. "Gave me a good piece of ass, too," he replied. A smile played about his lips but didn't quite reach his somber eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"How do I look like I'm feelin'?" he asked, self-satisfied, turning his head vaguely toward the window and the light sneaking in just ahead of the sunrise.

"You look a sight," Chris chuckled, staring down. "Hair all spikey, mustache looks like it's on backwards, and that bandaging's got all messed up." He bent and touched their mouths together. "Better not tell Nathan," he added. "He's gonna want to check on you, now that there ain't nothin' else to distract him. He finds out we did that again so soon, he'll throw a conniption."

Buck laughed again. "He sure would."

CHAPTER 35

Vin woke with the sun, rolled to his belly to dodge its early brilliance, and got poked in the ear with a blade of grass. The tickle made him twitch and rub and as he slowly squirmed back onto his bedroll, he got his coat all twisted so that it cut off the blood to his arm. By the time he straightened it out, he couldn't get back to sleep.

He should have slept under a tree.

He glanced around, blinking owlishly as his mind only sluggishly decided to follow his body into wakefulness. Oh, yeah. He'd ridden on out last night, because Chris and Buck had gone off, and JD was sleeping in Ezra's bed. He'd wanted to curl up against somebody but hadn't wanted to borrow trouble, so he had taken himself off to someplace he knew he'd feel at peace.

Dew had settled overnight, dampening his pants a bit, and his feet felt like icicles even though it wasn't so cold. Standing up to stomp out the chill, he looked around to make sure Peso was where he'd left him, that his mare's leg was still beneath the edge of his bedroll, and that nothing had tried to drag off his saddlebags. Nothing had reason to, since he hadn't brought any food, but it was just habit, to check. The morning was the kind that made him grateful to be alive. The dew on the grass shone like gems sprinkled on every blade. The sky still had that white-hot look to it, the sun still too close to the horizon to let the blue sneak in and fill the space beneath it. Birds fluttered and insects buzzed and the creek gurgled like children's whispers, soothing and joyful.

He should have stayed in town.

He could have asked to sleep at Nathan's, and given the man his chance to run or stand up. He could have asked Josiah, and let the man wrestle with his own demons. They had a right to decide things for themselves. But they just seemed so much more uncomfortable than he was, he couldn't find it in himself to push them any harder. Poor bastards, he thought with a smile. They'd seen those six from the Red Stone pack, and they'd glimpsed a broader picture of the world they'd committed themselves to. He supposed it was like looking at the marriage bed while the girl stood pregnant by your side, everything done gone backwards and inside out and only now were they waking up to the consequences of their actions.

It wasn't his place to take care of them, not like this.

He glanced over at the creek, debating the value of a bath this early in the morning, and felt his face softening when the thought of Ezra flitted through his mind. Ezra was clean, and liked people who liked clean, and would no doubt be checking behind their ears, before long. It was an easy enough habit to accommodate, and it would make Ezra happy. Vin skinned off his clothes, took a deep breath and flung himself into the chill water.

"Whooo!" he bellowed, finding his footing and flinging his wet hair out of his eyes.

Peso lifted his head, ears swiveling his way. It was cold, cold enough to make his heart pound and his balls try to climb up inside his body. He splashed water, rubbed under his armpits and down between his legs, hopping from foot to foot in an effort to stave off the creeping chill. He'd have to get himself some new soap, and keep it in his saddlebags from now on. Ducking underwater again, he scrubbed his hands through the thick ropes of his wet hair, letting the current carry the dirt away.

Well, at least he was properly awake now. And hungry. And cold, he acknowledged as he wrung out his hair, shivered, and stamped in the grass, rubbing hard at the gooseflesh on his arms and shoulders. "You ready to go back?" he called out to Peso, who ignored him. "Carrots!" he hollered, and watched the animal's ears swivel, watched him take two wary steps forward until his halter lead brought him up short. Vin laughed, low, shook more of the water from his hair, and hurried into his clothes. He'd killed enough time out here, and now he was ready to be with his friends.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Josiah sat on the church steps as he often did of a morning, drinking coffee from the big enamel cup he had taken with him to the restaurant and watching the town wind up for business. He had the strangest sense that the last week had been a dream, and the thought disappointed him.

The day that stretched before him looked alarmingly normal. JD had been asleep on his feet last night, and Ezra had gallantly, Josiah hoped, escorted him off to get some rest. Josiah had talked with Nathan for a time, and gotten a snack, and he had learned just how much more he welcomed this union than the black man he called brother. He lifted his cup and breathed deeply, the smell of the hot coffee easily as welcome as the taste, and took a sip as a familiar figure on horseback trotted into town. He watched Vin, noted hair dark with sweat. He frowned, squinting to get a better look, but Vin saved him the trouble by handing his horse off to the new kid at the livery, and taking ground-eating strides toward the church.

"Josiah." Vin nodded sharply in that way he had, his thumbs hooked into his gun belt. Vin's hair, shades too dark, was damp from washing, not sweat.

"Vin."

He noticed that the younger man wasn't meeting his eyes, but was staring almost unconsciously at the coffee cup. Smiling a little, he held it out to let Vin get in a gulp. "I was thinking I might be 'bout ready for breakfast," he offered, taking his cup back.

"Sounds real good," Vin said. But he didn't move.

"Pull up a step, why don't you? We'll mosey on over after I finish this."

Vin hesitated only briefly before settling on the edge of the step just below Josiah's.

"Sleep well?" Josiah inquired.

"Reckon so." Vin was watching the street, and the sliver of face visible from this angle looked peaceful enough. After a moment Vin returned, "You?"

"Sure did." It had felt a novel experience, to wake up alone in his narrow bed, and one that he'd enjoyed a great deal. It restored a sense of normalcy that he suspected would be short-lived. When Vin offered nothing more, Josiah sipped at his coffee and added, "Right peaceful, sleeping alone again." Those words engendered a subtle tension in the man beside him, certainly nothing he'd have felt comfortable commenting on, any day not long ago.

"Reckon you don't fancy sleepin' out under the stars much," Vin said quietly.

Josiah blinked, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

A half-shake of the head made the damp, curling ends of Vin's hair drag against the hide coat. "Don't see you take off and go do it. Except when you go out to visit the reservations."

"Well, I expect I'm a little like you, Vin. I don't go around advertising my business. Truth is, I'll take a cold, clear night under the stars over just about anything else. But, I get myself in a rut like the next man, get used to the comforts of lamps and a stove..." He shrugged himself, though Vin couldn't see it. "I ain't one to indulge, much."

"Think that'll change, maybe?" Vin asked, his voice quiet.

"You inviting me out to see the stars?" he queried, almost amused at the tracker's diffidence.

Vin's head jerked around, and wide blue eyes peered at him intently. Only slowly did the purposefully blank face begin to relax. "Yeah," he said shortly, and half-smiled. "Thought maybe everybody'd want to get out of town for a bit, maybe this Sunday. Relax or whatnot."

Josiah wasn't sure what "whatnot" might entail, but he was willing to take the risk. "Can't speak for the others, but, much obliged. You got a nice spot in mind?"

Still looking at him, face softening further, Vin nodded. Then he turned his eyes to the street and leaned back on his elbows, one arm pressing coincidentally against Josiah's thigh.

Looked at through the eyes of passersby, it was the most innocent and that wouldn't raise an eyebrow. Josiah restrained a sigh. He didn't believe in putting his private life on display, but he wasn't one to kowtow to the opinions of other people, either. There was a balance somewhere, one that assuaged Nathan's fears and Buck's needs, gave them all room to grow and change, and didn't scare the town folk. He prayed for the time to find it. Now was the time for settling in, and finding out what grew from the seeds they'd planted. Now was the learning time they would have had before they'd gone ahead and formed this pack, if necessity hadn't demanded her own schedule.

Glancing sidelong at Vin, thinking of him in terms of the young man he was, with experience of the world and the wild, Josiah couldn't help but doubt himself. He wasn't sure what he had to offer this new pack. He questioned whether he was more of a liability than an asset, in all ways but one. But he'd already sworn his oath, and how he fit in or didn't was up to the fates and the good Lord. He closed his eyes and listened to the near-silent presence beside him, felt the innocuous heat that bled through the hide coat and his trousers and pressed lightly against his hip.

"Breakfast?" he queried.

Vin unfolded himself from the steps and stood straight and tall, carrying his youth, his potential, proudly. More slowly, with less pride, less virility, less youthful energy and vigor, but with a great deal of faith and a willingness to meet the unknown head-on, Josiah rose to follow.

At breakfast, they met up with JD, who flatly refused to give up the feather bed until someone pried Ezra's room key from his cold, dead hands. Josiah pondered that Nathan might be as reluctant, if for very different reasons.

On the boardwalk outside Mrs. Tipper's establishment, Vin's face turned pensive. "What do you think, Josiah?"

"I think if JD won't leave that feather bed, it'd take a crow bar to make Ezra give it up."

Vin nodded, chewed briefly at his lower lip. "Yeah," he agreed. "Might end up just you and me, then, if Chris and Buck say no. You wanna stay in town?"

Josiah gave the question serious consideration. They didn't spend much time alone together; this was a good opportunity. "Stars are still out there. I say we go either way."

Vin's smile was as surprising as it was welcome. With a tiny nod, Vin stepped off the boardwalk and wandered off down the street.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

It was past time to talk some more. They had dozed together before Chris got up, made coffee and breakfast. He had fed Buck, cleaned him up a little and even brushed his teeth for him, then somehow Chris had tripped over an outstretched leg and ended up sprawled over Buck's naked body. For about an hour.

Buck sidled that last inch closer to him, and Chris flinched from the tickle of mustache at his throat.

"Guess we ought to head on back to town," Buck said lazily.

Chris heartily disagreed. "Nah." They were out of eggs, though. Maybe he'd fry bread tomorrow. There was syrup, somewhere...

"You drifting off on me?" Buck's voice eased int him, so soft...

"Nah," he said again, rousing himself by dint of shoving up on one elbow and blinking at the room. From the bright and the heat, he could tell it had gone nine, at least. "Where's my pocket watch?" he muttered to himself, and crawled carefully over Buck.

A long leg tried to get in his way again and he smirked down at his lover. "How many times do you think I'm gonna fall for that?" he asked, half-dismissing the man's efforts even though his body was trying to side with Buck.

"Don't know," Buck said with a smile. "How many times am I gonna get to try it?"

Chris frowned, not so much at the words but at something beneath them that he didn't like, and didn't understand. "You want to tell me what's troubling you, now?" he asked as he settled his hip on the edge of the bed and opened watch: ten o'clock. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed in bed so late when he wasn't sick or hung over.

"Nothing."

He looked down at Buck, measuring the transparency of his eyes and trying to read his thoughts through them. It was easier, now. Some things made so much more sense. Chris had half a mind to lean down again and fit their bodies together, watch the tiny lines that formed between Buck's eyebrows as pleasure rose in him, see the way his skin flushed and hear the pained noises he made as that pleasure overcame him. But he needed to piss, and the horses needed watering, and he and Buck weren't going anywhere any time soon.

"Whenever you're ready," he finally allowed, forcing his voice to stay easy, and slid off the bed to dress.

7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7 - 7

Sitting in the sheriff's office, JD distributed his glare equally between Vin and Ezra. "I don't know why we can't just go out there for awhile," he tried again.

"Would you shut up already?" Vin snapped.

Ezra looked up from his newspaper. "And you know why you don't want to go out there, so please, even I'm growing tired of hearing you drone on about it."

But JD had spent the morning marshalling arguments, and he was ready now to voice them out loud. "It's fair, that we just want to see if they're doin' all right." He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm not saying we move out there and set up camp, just that we go say howdy." Frowning, feeling his ears warm, he added, "Besides, they can't--" he glanced furtively toward the closed door, then back at the empty cells, just to be sure, "It's been a whole day. They can't still be going at it," he hissed, elaborating for both of them. "I don't care how much stamina Buck thinks he's got, Chris would just throw a bucket of water on him after awhile, wouldn't he?"

Vin laughed reluctantly, and JD turned hopeful eyes on him. He felt a fool for worrying--they were grown men, and had taken care of themselves long before JD had found them. But he didn't like the wondering, or the worry that they were fighting each other or who knew what. "Chris even said we could ride on out if we wanted."

"Then what's keepin' ya here?" Vin asked him, looking genuinely curious.

"I ain't," he glanced around again, "going out there by myself."

It was Ezra who laughed at him this time, and he'd have been wounded if he didn't feel as much of a fool as he knew he looked. He just wasn't comfortable yet, and didn't know when he would be. The very last thing he wanted was to ride in on something he didn't want to see.

"You know, gentlemen announce themselves, JD. I'm sure you could do the same in this case."

JD just stared blankly.

Ezra's breath gusted out in a long, disgusted sigh. "Call 'hello' as you approach. Wait outside until they exit the cabin--hopefully fully dressed--to meet--"

"Would you just stop that, and come out with me?" JD growled. They both stared at him, waiting, and finally he just blurted it out. "We ain't been apart from each other for a whole day since all this started. I just need to make sure they're okay."

"They've been friends forever, JD," Vin said lazily. "They're fine."

"Look," he admitted, "I know it doesn't make any sense, and I don't care if you two think it's dumb. I just want to check on them. And I want you both to help me do it."

Ezra looked to Vin, who raised his eyebrows in reply. "Supper?" Ezra asked, testing.

"Early supper," Vin frowned. "And we don't stay long."

Ezra turned back to JD with a conciliatory look. "Does that satisfy your desire to affirm their continued existence? We'll take supper out."

JD nodded, already enthusiastic. It would be like a little party, he decided. "I'll go ask Mrs. Tipper if she can cook us something we can pack out. Nathan'll want to come too, just so he can check up on Buck. You think Josiah'll come?"

"If everyone else goes, I'm sure he'll agree to ride with us."

"All right. Good." He bounded out of his chair and had his hand on the brass doorknob before asking the other question he'd held back. In bed last night, Ezra had said that different people responded differently to times of great stress, but that had sounded dumb at the time, and not helpful at all. "Uh, how come I'm the only one still worried about everybody? I mean, them Red Stones have only been gone a day."

Ezra smiled softly at him before snapping his newspaper back open, but it was Vin's chuckle that drew JD's eye. He steeled himself for more ridicule. "I reckon the rest of us just don't show it as bad as you do, JD," Vin said kindly. "'Sides, you probably ain't done nothing to work it out of your system." Ezra snorted, but Vin just glared across at him. JD wasn't going to ask.

"You're all nuts," he muttered. Ezra was good to him, like a new big brother, but when Ezra and Vin were in a room together, they could get awfully strange.

"Take Dancer out for a ride," Vin suggested. "Or go see if Tiny needs any of his horses run. He's got a couple of new geldings and a mare. Maybe they need to be worked. Stack a bunch of hay."

"Huh?"

"'Getting it out of your system' doesn't imply the debauchery you inferred," Ezra said from behind his paper.

"Go tell Josiah and Nathan we're riding out to Chris', all right?" Vin suggested. "About--what, Ez, four o'clock?" Ezra mumbled a distracted affirmative. JD frowned uneasily, and walked on out.

Vin looked from JD's retreating form to Ezra, who had only pretended to read the paper; his eyes didn't move, and his ear was canted toward the door. "He's gone," Vin said with a grin.

The paper snapped down, Ezra's soft green eyes finding his speculatively. "And why, pray tell, does that require an announcement?"

"Thought maybe you needed to work something out of your system too."

"Are you making lewd advances, Mr. Tanner?" he demanded archly. But the amusement in Ezra's eyes was already familiar.

Vin side-stepped the question, not sure if he was or not, right at the moment. He tilted his head toward the closed door. "How's it working out, him sharing your bed?"

Ezra frowned briefly, and pursed his lips. "He... he cuddles, did you know that?" Ezra asked with obvious consternation.

Vin could imagine that picture easily enough: Ezra, held by whatever it was that had made him decide to be the protector of JD's virtue, lying stiff as a board while JD's smooth young body sidled against him in sleep. He'd feel bad for Ezra, if Ezra hadn't asked for it. And if it wasn't so danged funny. "You could always tell him to leave," he said idly.

Ezra folded the paper crisply and settled it in his lap. "No," he said after a moment, "it's all right. He trusts me."

Vin just looked at him and waited.

Ezra glanced again toward the door, and ran a finger along the fold of the paper in his lap. "I've never really had someone... trust me like he does, unless it was by my design. When I was pulling a con," he clarified.

"We all trust you, Ez. Have for a long time."

Ezra looked back at him, pale green eyes clouded with doubt. "This is different."

Vin nodded, and smiled softly to reassure him. "I know what ya mean. Trust like I trust Buck and Chris." He grinned wolfishly. "That kind of trust."

Ezra's distracted gaze sharpened and honed in on him like he was sighting down a rifle barrel. "You may have the better end of the deal, in that case."

Vin snorted. "I reckon we're all gonna get the better end of the deal, eventually."

"I'm certainly seeing benefits to this arrangement," Ezra said blandly, and went back to reading his newspaper.

"I think I'll take my clothes on over to the laundry," Vin said eventually, and watched the corner of Ezra's lip quirk. "Collect JD while I'm at it, maybe get him to take a bath."

Ezra stiffened, and glanced suspiciously up at him from under a frown. "Your intentions?"

Vin smiled, and held up a pacifying hand. "Keeping him from stinking up your bed."

Ezra looked startled, then the slightest bit pained. "I can't say that will make things easier."

Vin chuckled and shook his head. It was fun to watch those two; Ezra toyed with JD just enough to make him edgy, but so obviously looked after him that JD couldn't help but feel safe. The way they behaved, it reminded him a lot of the way Buck had handled JD in the early days. If JD clean would increase Ezra's discomfort, Vin would enjoy throwing the kid in a creek a couple-three times a day, just for fun.

"He's damned determined to tie his insides up in knots, aint he?" Vin asked lightly.

Ezra shrugged, crossing his legs. "I hardly see how a broader perspective could harm anything, save his intentions for Casey."

"Well, she knows now. Ought to make it easier, frankly."

He watched the slow frown darken Ezra's face. "I doubt it." Ezra's cynicism was nothing if not reliable. Didn't matter. Things would work out like they would, and nobody had anything to worry about for a good long while.

CHAPTER 36

They wound up back in bed after he had walked the horses down to the creek, and Chris was a little stunned that they hadn't made it out again since. Four more hours on their backs or their bellies or each other. Five or six more bouts of sex. He felt like a young man, his passions so loosed, so driven by what he was feeling. But Buck got fidgety if Chris tried to cuddle too much, so it had been a constant cycle of winding up, coming, then winding up again.

Enough was enough. "Come on, shift your ass," Chris said simply.

Obediently, Buck rolled out of bed and onto his feet, and Chris just looked for a moment. He hadn't let himself really look, before, and this past day and a half, he felt like he was trying to make up for lost time. Buck didn't mind it at all, had actually taken to standing still and waiting, until he was done.

"You finished?"

The amused voice called him back from his silent appraisal, and he glanced up the long body, grinning. "For now." But he wasn't, not really. His eyes dragged back down, skipping past the bandages and over the soft concavity of belly, to Buck's slowly relaxing cock. Still long, it was losing its darker flush, curving in slightly where it hung past the lightly furred sac. As he watched, the tip slowly pulled itself back in under the foreskin. Chris licked his lips, looked away. He couldn't get it up again no matter how much he suddenly wanted to; he didn't think he'd spent this much time in bed since his wedding night. "Come on, let's get some air."

"Know how you feel," Buck said softly. "I hold off coming as long as I can, because I just want to go on and on. I hate the time in between when I can't keep it up for you."

Chris sucked in a breath, feeling a heat he couldn't resist roll through his belly. He realized his own hand was edging fruitlessly toward his spent cock. This was what holding each other close was for, to get through the recovery period, and it frustrated him that Buck couldn't lie still for it yet. Sighing, trying to ignore the need inside, Chris climbed out of bed and gathered up their clothes.

They strolled together on a barefoot constitutional, heading generally toward the creek, which Chris had every intention of making them both use; even in the open air, he could smell the reek of sweat and sex on them, and they needed a wash. They needed to talk too, but they'd settled into intensely sweet loving interspersed with safe, distant stories of their early years, and he had no desire to ruin that peace. Buck didn't either, he knew. Honesty or no, close-mouthed was still close-mouthed, and Buck had thirty-five years of inhibitions to overcome.

There was time.

So Chris spoke instead of the two new mares, and of how much a good breeding stud might cost. They talked about the need to build a barn, and the costs of construction. Idly, almost absently, Buck mentioned enlarging the cabin, and Chris let the thought hang between them, uncertain. There were many reasons for and against.

"I brought soap," he said after a minute.

"We'll have to get me out of all these bandages, if we're having a bath."

"We are," Chris affirmed. "You ain't had to walk downwind of yourself."

Buck chortled and leaned in to sniff deeply of the skin around his mouth. "I like smelling my cum on you," he breathed, and Chris found himself tilting his head back for the kiss before he even thought about it. But Buck just flicked his tongue over Chris' open lips. "Love tasting it on you, too," he said.

They stared into each other's eyes from just a few inches' distance, and Chris felt that hitch in his chest like he had the first time they'd met. All that time ago, behind enemy lines, shot up and scared as shit, he'd been so relieved at the sight of a blue coat, so overjoyed by a trustworthy-seeming face, he'd never imagined it might mean something more. And he should have, given what trouble Buck had caused him by the end of that escape. By the time they'd next met, Chris had written the feeling off to the desperation of great danger, and known he could call Buck a friend.

He dropped his head, self-conscious.

"Am I embarrassing you?" Buck asked, sounding delighted.

Chris shook his head and reached for the buttons on his fly. "No," he said softly. Not that.

"Come on now, your ears didn't get sunburned all of a sudden."

"Leave it alone, Buck," he said, trying not to sound too surly, and turned away to peel off his clothes.

The creek water still ran cold, and even if they'd had any intimate thoughts, the shivers would have chased them away. It was good to be clean, damned good to get Buck clean. They high-tailed it out, dripping wet, and dropped onto the grass in the sun to dry and warm up. Lazy minutes wandered by, and Chris thought he might doze for a bit until a foot slid over his ankle. Close enough to sleep that the touch didn't startle him, he felt the first signs of a smile tug at his lips, and waited to see what Buck would do.

He didn't have to wait long. Reaching down to slide his fingers through the silky resistance of wet hair, he laughed breathlessly, "You're gonna wear it out, and then what'll you have to suck on?"

Tiny beads of water dripped off the ends of Buck's hair and onto his thighs, and their chill contrasted sharply, arousingly, with the heat of Buck's soft, suckling mouth. This was getting ridiculous, and his body teetered between bliss and the punch-drunk exhaustion of too much sex.

Gently, he tugged at Buck's hair to sway him. "Buck, you have to…"

The warm wet heaven drew reluctantly away. "Guess I got more stamina than you do," Buck said smugly, and blew air across Chris' sluggishly rising flesh. "But we already knew that."

"Fuck you," he said, flushing. "I just happen to think of something besides sex ten times a day."

"And that's your loss," Buck shot back.

Chris rolled his eyes and opened his arms. Buck, as he'd half-suspected, wasn't particularly eager, and settled down quietly enough. He actually let himself be held, and used Chris' shoulder as a pillow.

Eventually, before the afternoon sun had a chance to crisp them, they dragged themselves up. Buck wrinkled his nose at the pile of sweat-soaked bandages, and Chris couldn't blame him; he waded knee-deep into the creek with the soap and did a half-assed job of rinsing them out. "Are you gonna be able to walk back to the house without these on?" he asked.

"I'm sure as shit not gonna let you wrap 'em around me, wet and colder than a witch's tit," Buck replied, defiant of Nathan's orders. Chris just sighed.

They came around the side of the little hill behind the house and Chris stopped short. Buck, behind him on the footpath, grunted when he bumped into him. Nine horses in the corral made him realize how damned small the corral really was. Nine horses in the corral meant there were five men at the house. He cursed under his breath. "What the hell are they doing out here?"

"Must have somethin' to do with you saying they could ride out any time they wanted," Buck said offhandedly.

"Smart ass," Chris said, resigning himself to a ruckus. Nathan would be pissed at him for letting Buck walk around without his shoulder wrapped up, but just as pissed if Chris somehow gave Buck pneumonia.

"Come on," Buck said, stepping past him. "They brought supper."

JD, who had panicked until Vin pointed out the unhurried, barefoot tracks toward the creek, spotted them first. He rose from his lean against the scrub oak in Chris' yard and called out, "Buck! Chris! Nate, he ain't wearin' his sling," he asided.

Vin pulled a coin from his shirt pocket and flipped it Ezra's way with a scowl.

Nathan just glowered. "I told him twenty times if I told him once--how many times did I tell him he got to keep that shoulder still?"

"I reckon I recall twenty or more," Josiah said placidly, and tipped his chair back down onto all four legs.

"I'm sure he has a perfectly good explanation, Mr. Jackson," Ezra said with his most affected air. He was trying not to laugh at Vin for losing the bet, and JD could tell from the looks on everyone's faces that they knew it.

JD glanced around, torn between trotting out to meet Buck and Chris, or standing here with the others and trying to look as relaxed as they did. Buck was half-naked, and they'd been gone awhile.

"JD, why don't you start unpacking supper inside," Josiah suggested, and JD cast a grateful look the preacher's way.

With the food in and the windows opened, the smell of pork chops had won out over the smell of sex, finally. JD tried not to think about that as he set to work, putting out people's camp kits. Chris might have to break down and buy dishes, at this rate. Through the open door, he heard Nathan pitch his expected fit, and wondered why Ezra hadn't bet on that, too.

"I done told you to keep them wrappings on, Buck, so you don't pull on nothin' that's already strained. Chris, you want him ruined for good?"

"Yeah Nate, that's exactly what I was thinking," Chris said irritably. Then, "They smelled like pig shit, and needed washing."

Nathan was only slightly subdued. "Come on, Buck, let me look at you. I brought out some fresh bandages, too. Them others got to get dry, 'fore you can use 'em again."

It was a relief to have something to do, where he could listen in on the others without having to talk. It sounded like Nathan had taken Buck over to the bench under the tree; he could hear their voices faintly, but couldn't make out the words. Chris and the others exchanged greetings.

"So what made you all decide to ride out?"

"The desire to break bread in friendly surroundings isn't reason enough?" Josiah asked, clearly baiting Chris.

"No."

"JD wanted to check up on you," Vin said.

"He needed a posse to do that?" Chris' sandy voice was calm though, and almost amused-sounding. JD breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nathan wanted to check on Buck," Vin continued. "And me, I didn't have nothin' better to do."

"Nobody answered my question."

Ezra chimed in. "JD was afraid he might stumble in at an inopportune moment and catch the two of you in flagrante delicto, and requested chaperones."

"What about you, Ez? Why'd you come out?"

"I hoped we might stumble in at an inopportune moment and catch the two of you in flagrante delicto, and that in itself seemed worth the ride." The reply was so like the one previous, JD had blushed before he realized what the words meant. Chris snorted with laughter. JD scowled, and thumped the sack of ten baked potatoes onto the table. This was going to get worse before it got better. After the table was set and the food laid out, JD moved until he had a good view out the door and just watched. Josiah's back was to the house, and he had stepped out from under the roof overhang. Buck sat on the bench, and Nathan looked to be poking at the knife wound, from the way Buck kept flinching. Ezra stood too close to Chris, while Vin leaned against the end of the hitching post and watched them with hungry blue eyes. JD swallowed, and turned away.

They weren't doing anything to him, and they weren't going to. It would be all right. He turned away and stood still for a minute, trying to make himself believe it, then grabbed up one of the extra potatoes to gnaw on. After he finished it, he hollered, "Supper's ready," and listened to the stampede of boot heels.

"JD!" Buck boomed, and JD spun around just in time to keep from being knocked off his feet when Buck slammed into him.

An "oof!" forced its way out of him as he found his footing and levered back against Buck's heavier weight. "This any way to treat the hand that's feeding ya?" he groused. Buck's hearty laughter was music to his ears, and JD was glad, deep down, for the attention.

"Just be lucky Nate's here, or I'd mess up your hair for you real good."

"Nathan," JD called, hearing the others coming in but still caught up in Buck's playful jostling, "he ain't supposed to be pushing folks around like this, is he? Ain't it bad for something?"

"You," Chris said dryly.

Slowly, Buck's weight eased off him, and JD looked up and met his friend's smiling eyes. "How are you doing?" he asked, trying to sound like he didn't care either way.

"Happy as a pup with two peters," Buck chuckled.

"I'm real good too," JD said worriedly. "And, uh," he added, lowering his voice to a bare whisper, "I decided I ain't gonna be crawling into anyone's bed, so..."

"You were in Ezra's again last night, weren't ya?" Buck's eyes twinkled with amusement, and JD blushed.

"You know what I mean, Buck, cut it out!"

Buck laughed again, and made a beeline for the food.

JD pushed his hair back off his face in time to watch Chris frown at the arrangement of plates. Chris picked up Ezra's expensive, undented tin from its place at Buck's right, and swapped it with his own, across the table. Then he sat down next to Buck without a word. JD moved his own plate too, and slid in on Buck's left before anybody else could. Conversation settled into the comfortable and familiar; Ezra talked of the stages due in tomorrow, and his hopes for fat wallets. JD surreptitiously loaded up Buck's plate so he wouldn't have to reach for everything, and Buck smiled and nudged his leg under the table.

Vin talked about the town folk. "They're still lookin' for them wolves," he said. "That's really the only thing I see that we got to worry about."

"Perhaps Mr. Tanner should track them, and find that they've roamed far away from our locale."

Buck nodded decisively. "That'll work."

Vin nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "I c'n do that. Maybe see if they don't wander down Mexico way. Other than that, I've seen funeral parlors more lively," he said around a bite of pork chop.

Buck grinned. "Chris is the trouble maker," he said. "Things'll heat up when he gets back into town."

"I'm guessin' he's made some trouble out here too," Vin said mildly, but JD knew what he meant. The way Buck stilled, Chris chuckled, Ezra looked to the ceiling in exasperation, Nathan frowned and Josiah sighed, it looked like everyone else did, too.

Nathan cleared his throat. "I ain't saying now's the time, and I ain't looking to start no arguments, but I'm thinking that we oughtta just set ourselves down and talk about a few things real soon."

"Sounds like divine inspiration, to me," Josiah seconded, and JD glanced past Buck's chest to see how Chris was taking it. The frown was small, more indecisive than angry.

Ezra chimed in next. "Conversation in and of itself can hardly do any harm," he said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Ain't gonna kill us to talk," Buck tossed in. JD cast him a heartfelt and silent thank-you.

Chris took three more bites of food before the tension got too thick, then put down his fork. "What?" he demanded. "Y'all wanna talk, talk. I ain't stopping you."

Vin chuckled. "Josiah and me were thinking about going out camping, maybe Sunday. Saturday, if the town's quiet enough."

Chris looked across at Vin and nodded, then glanced around to each of them.

One by one, they nodded yes, so that by the time Chris met his eyes, JD knew he'd be out-voted anyway. "Yeah, all right," he muttered, feeling heat on his neck.

Buck laughed Chris' way. "Hell, don't look at me, stud. I'll go anywhere, any time."

"All right, then," Chris said. "It's settled."

Great, now the weekend was ruined. They'd camp out in the woods and talk til everybody was yelling, and somebody, probably a few somebodies, would crawl into the dark and start up again with the fucking. On the plus side, at least the trip was days away. JD noticed that Nathan had relaxed a little, and that was worth something too.

Supper ended easily, and JD sat back on the bed to get out of the way while the others cleaned up. Josiah took up washing duties and carried the tins outside to the well, while Ezra slipped back into the corner to hide from any of the work. Buck stood up and stretched, and without one lick of the subtlety or charm he used on so many of his women friends, rounded the table and straddled the log bench beside Vin.

"C'mon," he said quietly, "I'll get that grease off ya."

Without a word, Vin smiled and lifted his hand, and Buck sucked on his fingers, licked at the webbing in between. Vin held utterly still, and JD wished he could say the same for himself. The more Buck cleaned, the more JD squirmed, and when Vin tugged his hand away and leaned in for a friendly, gentle-seeming kiss, JD remembered that he had the power to turn his head, and looked away. His eyes landed on Chris, who stood by the door and watched Buck and Vin, his face shuttered and impassive. What must he be thinking, watching that? JD didn't want to know.

"We'll be outside," Chris said evenly after a moment, then turned, and JD felt the intensity of his gaze like heat from a fire. He scrambled up and scooted out the door. Chris and Ezra came out next, and Buck and Vin, just a few seconds behind Ezra. That surprised him, and he caught Ezra's eye and frowned. Ezra shook his head, and JD tabled the matter; he could always ask later tonight, when they went to bed. He was just glad those two had knocked it off, and that everybody was together.

Chris wasn't nearly so happy. "Buck," he called quietly, and nodded his head toward the back of the house.

Buck play-acted it up, hanging his head like a kid being dragged to the wood shed, and everyone laughed but him and JD. As soon as they were behind the house, Chris said softly, "It's Vin, ain't it?"

Buck's eyes widened and rounded, and he looked shocked right before the shutters went down. "What're you talking about, Chris?"

"Aww, Buck," he muttered, staring off at the woods behind the house. Buck's stupid words of a week ago, in Nathan's room, came to mind. Buck's words of a week before that in Chris' own house echoed just as loudly. "If this is you opening up, pard, I have to tell you, you're terrible at it."

"It ain't like that," Buck said, but his eyes darted left and right, refusing to settle on any one thing.

"That why you tried to wind him up at the dinner table? Nobody else, just him?"

"If you're gonna read something into every little thing I do--"

"You jealous?" Chris interrupted.

"You ever known me to be?" Buck growled, and his eyes flared gold in the afternoon sun, sparking with anger.

"That's what I thought." He didn't know if there was anything more he could do, save let time prove to Buck what words wouldn't. Then again, he'd never said the words. "Buck?" he said gently, willing the man's eyes up to meet his. "There ain't never gonna be another man ahead of you. There never was."

That got Buck's attention all right. Dark eyes flashed and focused in on him. He watched all the signs, tiny movements he had always thought meant one thing, and now knew meant something else entirely. And he waited.

Buck's eyes darted to the corner of the house, and his body tightened like bailing wire. "This ain't the time to be stuck out back here talking about it," he tried.

Chris just shook his head. "Best get it over with, if you've got something to say."

And he waited.

Buck flushed finally and said, "I thought…" He paused to clear his throat. "I thought you were gonna let me down all gentle-like."

A heat flared through Chris' lungs, a deep breath of searing wind off a desert. It would have been different this time, he supposed--the gentle part at least.

Chris wasn't ready for this. Best get it over with. "You really are stupid sometimes, you know that?" he said softly. "We got us near fourteen years."

"Fourteen hard years," Buck whispered. "Real hard years, Chris, you can't deny that."

That was true enough. Chris had just taken the ease that had been the bedrock of their relationship and let it carry them, maybe too much. Maybe he'd done his part for Buck's and his friendship, and maybe he hadn't. But Buck took care of others because he had to; his nature wouldn't let him be any other way.

"Give me a little help, here," he entreated, more than willing to play on those instincts to make Buck believe the truth that stood before him. "You want me to stay off him?"

"No!" Again it was instinct answering for Buck; Chris watched thought follow, as Buck weighed options. Finally, "That wouldn't be right," Buck said. "Wouldn't be fair to any of us if you did that."

"How about you tell me when you're ready, then, and we'll get on him together?"

Instinct supplied Buck's answer to that question as well, in the way his pupils widened and his belly clenched. Chris snorted and shook his head, indulgent in a way he hadn't felt in a long while.

Buck licked his lips and accused gently, "You really do think with your dick, Larabee."

"Me?!" Chris sputtered, before he remembered it was Buck he was talking to. "Yeah, well, if I do, we both know where I learned it," he griped, laughing in spite of himself.

"What, did you think I was complaining?" Buck's eyes sobered slowly, and that wariness rose once more. "You're sure? You're not gonna get done with me?"

"You think I ever would have got done with Sarah?" Chris asked point blank, just to see the look he knew would cross Buck's face, like the man was witnessing a miracle. "Now come on," he said gruffly, too close to all of it to let it rest comfortably just yet, "let's get back before they come hunting for us."

They rounded the corner of the house and Chris almost ran into JD, who had been hovering. "What's the matter with you, boy?" he groused, more startled than he wanted to admit.

JD just gave him an intent look, then glanced to Buck, and then a smile like the sun woke on his face. "Nothin, Chris," he said through the ear-splitting grin. "I'm real good."

Chris refused to think about what that meant, and Buck stepped around from behind him to butt JD with his chest.

"Hey, kid," Buck said. JD shoved Buck back, almost into Chris' arms, but the man rebounded like he was on springs, and soon enough Buck had knocked JD to the ground and sprawled on him.

Chris watched, wincing faintly for Buck's wounds as JD scrambled out from underneath Buck's dead weight and crawled away laughing. Buck crawled after him and quickly enough they got themselves settled, Buck against the tree trunk, JD leaning back against Buck's upraised shins. He looked around, caught Josiah's eyes, and read the message as clearly as if the man had spoken: kids. Nahan looked worried, Ezra looked faintly disgusted, and Vin... well, Vin looked like he'd be happy to crawl right over there with them.

This was going to take getting used to, he thought, as Vin heeled off his boots and socks and stood, happy as a pig in shit, wriggling his toes in the cool grass.

Vin glanced up and caught his eye, and Chris thought Vin looked happier than he ever had.

"Chris?" Vin asked, quiet.

He shook his head. "Looks good," he commented, and went to the woodpile to fetch a little length of tree branch. Ezra had already commandeered his porch chair, so Chris sat on the ground next to Vin and whittled idly, thinking maybe there was a little doll in the wood for Gloria Potter's girl.

And after that, with idle talk and easy quiet, with Buck sticking his toes under JD's butt to goose him and JD flinging his elbow around to impact with Buck's thigh until the man quit it, the day cooled down into evening. It was as easy and comfortable as they had ever been together, would have been more so if not for the underlying tensions. Well, it would take awhile, to adjust. To figure out what they'd have to adjust to. His knife blade slipped and he came close to amputating the doll's arm.

"Careful there, pard," Vin said, betraying how closely he was observing the project. This was stupidly comfortable, and he was enjoying the peace of it, but he wasn't so stupid as to be lulled by it. Tomorrow would bring a whole new pack of trouble, from without and within. With these six maniacs, how could it not?

"It's getting late," Josiah finally said, and Chris glanced up to watch the lowering sun.

"Yeah," Vin agreed. "Ought to be heading back soon."

"Few more minutes," Chris said, "and I'll have this finished." He held the carving up, wondering if it was a gift worth giving.

"Looks right pretty," Buck said, his voice as rich and sweet as an overripe peach. "What is it?"

Everyone but Buck laughed, and Chris found himself trapped between a smile and a glare. "For Mrs. Potter's girl, if it looks enough like a doll." He frowned at it again, uncertain.

"Gloria will appreciate it even if Angie don't," Buck offered, hitting the nail on the head.

"Yeah... yeah." He set it on the ground beside Vin's feet. "I'll finish it later and give it to her when you and me ride back to town."

"Speaking of riding," Ezra intoned, "it is time we headed back."

"Yeah," JD said. "It'll be dark soon."

"I'm working on the pews now, trying to bring a few of them back to snuff," Josiah threw in. "Thought I might get one ready for painting tonight."

But nobody moved.

Hardened gunfighters my ass, he thought fondly. At this rate they'd be sitting here all night. And, Chris decided, finally leaning back on his elbows and silently sharing the joke with Vin, that'd be all right too.

END

The Family is the Country of the heart. There is an angel in the Family who, by the mysterious influence of grace, of sweetness, and of love, renders the fulfilment of duties less wearisome, sorrows less bitter.

- Giuseppe Mazzini (1805–1872)