"Ya sure everythin's okay?" Chris curtly quizzed the longhaired tracker who leaned against the doorjamb of the jail.

"Yeah," Vin muttered, "just a mite tired." He wasn't ready to admit he hadn't been sleeping well, knowing if he said a word, Larabee would probably feel obligated to drag him off to see Nate as soon as the healer returned. Then again, as tense as things had been between them lately, the leader of the seven men hired to protect this small corner of the territory just might figure the Texan wasn't worth the trouble.

"Hell," Larabee growled, "ain't any wonder. Ya been ridin' your patrols and Buck's too."

Earlier that week, JD had suffered a slight concussion and strained shoulder breaking up a brawl in the saloon, so Buck and Chris had been staying close, watching over both the young sheriff and the town.

"Why don't ya get some rest and I'll send Ezra out on the next one."

Tanner shook his head. Didn't Chris realize Ezra had to be damn near as weary as the ex-bounty hunter? He was aware the gambler had been covering Nathan's patrols since the healer was out of town, helping Mrs. Hester in the delivery of her twins. Hell, they were all worn out, even Josiah, who had been covering Larabee's shifts.

Chris frowned. It was damn inconvenient they were so short handed. Things always seemed to happen when they were short and he was just waiting for the other boot to drop. And he hated the waiting. "Well, get some rest," he ordered brusquely.

Nodding, Vin jadedly moved out on to the boardwalk and headed for his wagon. The ratty old canvas top would at least catch a bit more breeze than his stuffy boarding house room.

Behind him, Larabee watched as the Texan slowly made his way down the street. Perhaps he should get one of the others to ride with him for the prisoner pick up. Let Tanner catch up on his sleep.

Sinking into the chair on the boardwalk, he tilted it back against the wall of the jail, his expression pained.

While neither man said it outright nor both pretended it wasn't true, the easy companionship shared by the two men since their first meeting had been steadily slipping away.

'Damnit! Why couldn't they get past this? Correction...' he mentally amended, 'why couldn't he get past this?' Chris' troubled gaze dropped to the dark liquid in his coffee cup. Why couldn't he forget Tanner had been ready to abandon his friends to run off with that woman? It rankled the gunman Vin had fully considered seeking happiness with another man's wife. True, Richmond had been an ass, unfairly blaming his wife for the loss of their child, but she was the man's wife and while Chris hadn't cared for Richmond, probably more than most people, Larabee could understand how the loss of a loved one could effect a person.

Chris had never been one to judge, knowing people often let their emotions control their reactions and, in the end, Vin had surrendered his own chance at happiness to give Charlotte and her husband a chance to make their marriage work... So, why couldn't he, himself, get past the tracker's actions? Why couldn't he shake the bitter feeling of having been betrayed by his best friend?

*******

Approaching the battered old wagon that had been his home for the past several years Vin pitched his jacket and hat inside, and then followed, collapsing down on his blankets with a deep sigh.

It had been several long, trying months since they had returned from escorting the settlers' wagon train and fighting off Dickie O'Shea. To his dismay, the breach between Chris and himself hadn't healed over as rapidly as he had hoped through no fault of his own. It was Larabee who had continued to act like a bastard with a broom up his ass.

The young tracker just couldn't figure it. Even when Nathan had been certain the gambler was taking advantage of the situation, Larabee hadn't said a word about Ezra's involvement with the Chinese girl, Lei Pong. And it was almost a running joke how often Chris warned Wilmington that his skirt chasing would end up with him facing the wrong end of gun, but he had seemed pleased, and hadn't offered protest when the womanizer had taken up with the governor's pretty assistant.

More importantly, no one, least of all Vin, had thrown it up to the shootist when Chris, himself, had forsaken the group to take up with Ella Gaines.

Yet since their return from the wagon train settlement, Tanner felt the older man was being a bit stiff and unbending and a hell of a lot forgetful. It was bad enough he had to come to terms with losing Charlotte, but why should he have to wrestle with Larabee's shitty attitude as well? To make matters worse, it might have been his imagination, but it often seemed as if following Chris' lead, some of the other peacekeepers were also being a bit standoffish with him.

Hell, it made Vin wonder, not for the first time in the past few weeks, why he was even bothering to hang around where it didn't appear he was wanted...

Angrily thumping his jacket into a make shift pillow he closed his eyes. Maybe this time, the longhaired woman who had broken his heart wouldn't haunt his dreams.

He was asleep before the dust of his steps had fully settled.

*******

It was almost sundown when Tanner opened his eyes again. Although he had slept, the tracker actually felt more tired than when he'd laid down. Bailing out of the wagon, he straightened and dusted off his clothes, grabbed his gun and headed for the saloon. Maybe a drink would clear the troubling thoughts from his mind.

As he pushed open the batwings, he saw several of the lawmen had already gathered. Sighing, he crossed the room and dropped into his usual seat.

"Hey, Vin," JD greeted him with his usual enthusiasm. Nothing ever seemed to change the kid's attitude.

Tanner grunted a response and reaching for an empty mug, filled it with beer from the half-empty pitcher in the middle of the table. He sipped at the lukewarm drink, his head down, but his sharp eyes missing nothing. "How's the shoulder, Kid?"

"Good as new." The sheriff rolled his arm expansively. "Wouldn't know there was ever anything wrong with it."

"Are you feelin' all right, Mister Tanner?" Ezra questioned, quickly masking the concern by glibly adding, "You look as if you've been wrestling the devil himself...and losing."

"'M fine." Vin mumbled.

Satisfied with the ex-buffalo hunter's answer Chris continued the interrupted conversation. "As I was sayin', Buck's ridin' with me over ta Ruby City ta pick up that prisoner, so a couple of ya's gonna have ta keep doublin' up on patrols for the next couple days."

Vin's head snapped up at Larabee's declaration. The others looked as confused as he felt. Everyone knew plans had already been made for the sharpshooter to accompany Chris.

Tanner's expression darkened as reality slapped him in the face. "Still don't trust me, do ya, Larabee?" he growled.

Saying nothing, neither confirming nor denying the accusation, Chris swung around in his chair to face the younger man. He wasn't used to having his orders questioned, although, by now, with these six he should be.

"Hell," Vin slammed the mug down on the table, slopping beer over the top. "ya don't ride the others about their skirt chasin'! Look at Bucklyn---"

"Ain't got nothin' ta do with that. I know I can count on Buck –"

"And ya don't think ya can me? Go ta hell, Larabee!" He jumped to his feet, slamming his chair back to crash to the floor. Glaring at the man in black, he stormed from the saloon, colliding with Josiah on the boardwalk as the big man was about to enter. He stalked on past the preacher without a word.

"Vin?" Josiah stared after him, and then glanced over the batwings. Standish, Wilmington, and Dunne appeared as if they expected the world to come to an end, but Chris turned away, refusing to meet his gaze.

*******

Tanner urged the gelding along the faint trail. How dare that son of a bitchin' Larabee throw his actions up to him! Like he's so damn perfect! Why was everyone, but him, allowed some type of love life whether it was just a dalliance like Buck and most of his women, JD and Casey exploring their budding feelings or Josiah chasing a memory from his past?

Vin, however, was facing the repercussions of letting his heart overrule his head.

While the young tracker had received his share of admiring glances and flirting from the opposite sex, no one had ever considered the shy Texan a good marital prospect. After all, what could he offer a woman? Being dragged about the country while her husband hunted buffalo or scouted for the army was not what most women wanted out of a marriage.

Since the incident with Eli Joe, Vin's life had become about survival and his quest to clear his name, constantly looking over his shoulder, leery of a trap that could cost him his freedom... or his life. There simply wasn't the luxury to moon after some thing or someone he couldn't have.

But those few days with Charlotte had been different. He hadn't thought about bounty hunters.

He hadn't thought about the fact he could die tomorrow or be captured and hauled back to Tascosa to hang. He had simply enjoyed the feelings that had washed over him. Moreover, he had foolishly allowed himself to think about the future. For those few days, he had actually allowed himself to dream.

In truth, he could probably thank Chris and the others for that momentary respite. In the six peacekeepers, Tanner had found not only friendship, but also protection. Little by little, he had relaxed, knowing he had six friends who watched his back and would give their lives for him.

Those few days escorting the wagon train, he had let himself feel loved.

Until he had sent Charlotte back to her husband.

So what gave Larabee, or anyone else, the right to judge his actions? Granted, the timing and circumstances had been all wrong, but love set its own timetable. True, Charlotte was married, but unfortunately, a person's heart paid no mind to such things, leaving that moral judgment to the brain.

The tracker hadn't thought much of Charlotte's husband, but he had understood the pain of loss the man had been suffering. He understood the man's fear of losing the only other person who made his life worth living. Again, Vin knew as much as he hated to admit it, he could thank knowing Chris for that understanding.

In the end, Vin had done the right thing. He had returned to warn Larabee and the others. He had fought beside them and seen the homesteaders safely to their destination. He had let Charlotte go. He had let her go and had sacrificed his own possible happiness.

He was still suffering the emotional pain of those actions, but none of that seemed to matter to the high and mighty, sanctimonious Chris Larabee.

Yes, things had been tense between Tanner and the man he loved like a brother. As the gambler among them would say, it was like having an elephant in the room no one wanted to mention.

Until today.

Today, Vin had pushed and Chris had finally given voice to the problem.

Funny, but Tanner could now sympathize with Ezra. The tracker knew the southerner had quickly grown to care for the little Chinese slave girl he'd emancipated. The cardsharp had unselfishly done what he thought best for Lei Pong, just as Vin had ignored his own desires so Charlotte would have the life she deserved.

So, why did Ezra stick around? Come right down to it, Larabee hadn't bothered to hide his distrust of the gambler after the man's desertion at the Seminole village. Chris hadn't asked the circumstances or let the gambler explain. None of them had. Yet despite that, Ezra had proven more than once that any of them could count on him. Nevertheless, there were times when the shootist still acted as if the southerner was nothing more than an extra gun, forgotten about unless he or his skills were needed.

So why did Ezra continue to stay? Why did he continue to seek their approval and respect? Especially Larabee's.

Maybe if he got the chance, he would ask the gambler… But he figured he'd not get an answer.

Vin sighed. Maybe it was time he just rode on. Screw Larabee and the other men, too. They were treating him as if he had the plague, just because Larabee was. 'Hell, man's friends should stick beside him, no matter what… and 'specially when he's nursin' a broken heart.'

He needed time. He needed time to think. He needed time to heal. He needed time to regain his balance and weigh his options. He needed time alone.

Tanner drew rein at the top of the ridge and looked out at the mountains in the distance. Maybe it was time he rode on. He glanced back over his shoulder at the way he had come, but the view was just as empty as the one before him.

*******

Buck eyed the dark clad man riding beside him and finally broke the silence. "Yer ridin' Vin a little hard, ain't ya, Hoss?"

Larabee shot a disgusted glare in his direction, but didn't deem to answer.

The gunslinger wasn't holding a knife to his throat now and Wilmington had known Chris too many years to be intimidated by a mere glare. Ignoring the look, Buck continued, "Ya know, that boy didn't do nothin' wrong. Surely didn't do nothin' you and I ain't done… or have ya forgotten that?"

"I ain't forgot nothin'," Chris growled.

"Ya know, Vin deserves better than what he's getting' from you."

Chris reined back the black and spun in the saddle to confront his oldest friend. "He had no call---"

"He fell in love, Chris!" the womanizer interrupted. Buck inwardly cringed, remembering Tanner's reaction to his and Ezra's harmless teasing that day on the wagon train. Neither he nor the gambler had realized how deeply the tracker had come to care for the woman in such a short time. "Ya told him out on that trail it was his decision... His and hers and ya told me yerself, he's the one that broke it off with her. Hell, ya know love'll make a man do funny shit. Why, I know a man who gave up his wild roguin' days to settle down as a rancher when he fell in love."

Larabee's voice was low, his eyes flashing fire as he spoke through clenched teeth. "Ya got no call to bring Sarah into this!"

Buck leaned back in his saddle, studying his friend in disbelief. "So that's it, huh? My God, Chris, please tell me ya ain't holdin' it against that boy coz he found someone ta love when you lost Sarah...! That ain't right, Chris, and you know it!"

"Ya don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Don't I?" Buck pushed. "I probably know ya about as well as ya know yerself. Look me in the eyes and tell me--"

"Shut the fuck up, Buck!"

Shaking his head in sorrow, Buck stared after his old friend as Chris spurred the black and galloped away.

*******

Settling in the saddle, Buck led the horses toward the jail where Chris was handling the paperwork involved with the prisoner exchange.

After the heated discussion regarding Tanner, the rest of their trip to Ruby City had been made in silence. Wilmington hadn't pressed the issue further, knowing the gunslinger, after cooling down, would give his words due consideration.

Earlier, flirting with the pretty barmaid, the womanizer had kept a close eye on Larabee who was seated at a corner table, lost in thought, a half full bottle of whiskey in front of him. Planning to head out in the morning, with the long ride back to Four Corners ahead of them, Chris normally wouldn't drink himself into a stupor but...

Buck wasn't exactly certain what had happened between Larabee and Tanner during the wagon trip, but knew it was evident it wasn't something as simple as Tanner having fallen in love with another man's wife. Chris wouldn't have held that against the tracker. Hell, if that was the case, Buck knew he and Larabee wouldn't have been friends all these years.

The amber liquid had barely been touched when Chris had finally retired to the rented room and Buck had relaxed enough to enjoy the charms of the little barmaid.

Now, as Buck hitched the horses to the rail in front of the jail, his attention drifted to a young woman loitering outside the general store on the other side of the street. He only caught a glimpse before she turned to stare at something in the window, but he couldn't help thinking she seemed vaguely familiar.

His memory for faces had proven advantageous more than once. No matter how short the time, women appreciated it when a man remembered their time together. He searched his mind for a name...Catherine? Constance? Calli? He was certain it started with a C. Maybe if he got a better look. Oh well, he'd remember eventually. Right now, there was more pressing matters to tend to and he turned his attention back to the jail as Larabee exited, escorting the prisoner.

*******

Walking his horse down the main street of Ruby City, Vin's blue eyed gaze searched for any sign Larabee was in town. If they'd left when planned, the gunslinger and his oldest friend should already be on their way back to Four Corners with their prisoner. 

The tracker's own arrival to the small town hadn't been intentional.

At some point in time, Vin knew he would have to return to Four Corners, if only for his wagon, but he had yet to decide if he would remain in that dusty town. Needing to hole up somewhere, lick his wounds, clear his mind and give his heart time to heal, Vin had spent the past few days wandering the hills and now desperately short of supplies, found himself in the closest town... Ruby City.

He reined up in front of the general store and dismounted, rubbing Peso's nose as he hitched the reins to the rail. Digging in his pocket, he withdrew what little money he had and counted the coins...Eight dollars. Wasn't much, but then he really didn't need much.

Giving Peso a final pat, he stepped up on the boardwalk and snugging his hat down a little lower to shadow his face from inquisitive strangers, he wandered into the store.

Ten minutes later and five dollars poorer, he stepped outside and began stashing his purchases in his saddlebags. Apples, cheese, bacon, couple of cans of peaches, some extra shells…

Maybe if he decided to leave, he'd invite Ezra along. They were both loners who had discovered they desired the company of friends. Tanner had often seen the southerner staring off into the distance, and knew the gambler had to be thinking about what was beyond the horizon.

Vin liked the southerner, who was even more of an outsider in the little group of peacekeepers than even he felt at the moment. Whether Larabee believed it or not, Vin knew he could trust Standish to stand by him and watch his back.

"Vin?"

His hands stilled and his head came up. Certain he was losing his mind, his heart pounded as loud as a buffalo stampede and the breath caught in his throat.

"Vin? Is that you?"

Struggling to draw a breath into his constricted lungs, Tanner spun around, sure the voice would prove to be nothing more than a hallucination.

"It is you!"

He barely had time to brace himself before the small figure threw herself in his arms, whispering his name over and over.

Her form and her smell registered on him and his arms instinctively pulled her tighter against him. "Charlotte!"

"Oh, Vin, I've missed you!" She was kissing him, and his spirit soared just as it had the night they'd made plans to be together.

Suddenly realizing they were making a public spectacle of themselves and were drawing the attention of passersby, Vin slowly untangled her arms from about his neck and stepped back away from her as far as he could with Peso at his back. He looked her up and down, drinking in the sight of her, intending to lock this memory away with all the others he cherished. After all, she belonged to another man. "What…? What are ya doin' here?"

Charlotte stepped forward; clinging to his arm as if afraid he would bolt and run. "I was headed for Four Corners to look for you," she declared with a smile.

His blue eyes widened in surprise and pleasure. "Ya were?" He'd never known anyone but bounty hunters to look for him before, and the fact this delightful woman was, thrilled him. He'd more than happily surrender to her.

She nodded. "Yes, I was, Mister Wild and Wooly!"

The words sparked a memory and a picture flashed through his mind... her husband angry and possessive, ordering the tracker to stay away from her.

She belongs to another, his little voice of reason kept whispering.

Vin's expression sobered. "What about Richmond...yer husband? What's he think of ya runnin' off after the likes of me again?"

Charlotte's gaze fell to the ground. "He won't care this time," she declared softly.

"And why is what?" Tanner pressed. He knew Richmond loved her. Trapped in the nightmare world of mourning for his dead child, the farmer had almost lost her, but had come to his senses and been willing to fight Vin for her. Richmond had proven his love and Vin had done the right thing and stepped aside. The tracker frowned with the memories, wondering, 'Why wouldn't the man care now?

She brought her face up and met his questioning look. "'Cause he's dead."

Vin's eyes flared even wider at those three words and she was quick to add, "He had an accident when he was out panning for gold. Slipped and fell in the river they said. When they found him, it was too late."

"I'm sorry, Charlotte." She didn't resist as he pulled her into his arms, offering comfort.

"Happened last month...I just couldn't stay there any longer...I finally sold the farmstead to Mary Travis' friend and I came looking for you." She murmured against his shoulder.

Vin's hold tightened, still unable to believe this creature who had haunted his dreams had actually come looking for him.

"We're free now, Vin...We can be to together...I wanna go to Brazil with you, Vin. I wanna go now...you and me," she whispered. "Please...don't send me away again!! Let's go to Brazil just like we planned. Please?"

And, holding her close, Vin nodded. "Yes," he whispered. After all, there was nothing keeping him here anymore either. Reaching back, he freed Peso's reins with one hand, as with his other arm about Charlotte; they walked down the street to where her horse was tied.

Together they rode out of town. A contented smile on his lips, Vin didn't look back, refusing for just a few moments to think of anything, but a future with the woman beside him.

*******

The sun was going down, turning the sky a riot of colors: purples, pinks, gold and blue, when the two riders drew rein to make camp for the night. Vin hurriedly tended the horses, watering them in the nearby creek, and picketing them on the lush bunch grass. Unable to bring forth the niggling thought from the back of his mind, he shrugged it aside, quickly gathering firewood and in a short time had coffee on and boiling.

Charlotte sat on a nearby log watching his every move, smiling each time he glanced her way.

The young tracker couldn't keep his eyes off her, couldn't quite believe she had actually come looking for him. In all those haunting dreams over the past months, nothing like that had even been envisioned, let alone dared to even be believed.

"How long do you think it will it take us to get to Brazil?" she questioned as he poured coffee and handed her the cup.

Tanner shrugged as he took a seat on the ground at her feet. "Don't rightly know. Guess we can find out when we get to Frisco. Ain't rightly sure what it will cost neither."

"A lot?" She quizzed.

He shrugged again. "Don't matter none. We'll get the money somehow."

She smiled over the edge of her coffee mug. "Yes, we will...somehow." Reaching out, she laid her hand along his scruffy cheek. "I'm so glad I found you again," she whispered.

Vin tossed aside his cup and pushing up on his knees, he leaned closer to her, gently nuzzling her neck. She made a soft throaty sound and slid from the log into his waiting arms.

*******

Their prisoner delivered and back in Four Corners, Chris stared around the saloon, finally realizing what was amiss. "Where's Vin?" he questioned, turning to the other men gathered around their usual table.

Josiah shrugged, shaking his grizzled head. "Don't know. Ain't seen him since before you and Buck rode out."

Larabee frowned, a shadow of the old familiar worry rising in him. "So he's been gone almost three days?"

"You know how that boy gets. He's probably out communing with nature somewhere. Besides," Josiah remarked as he reached to refill his beer mug, "what's it to you?"

The gunslinger jerked as if the preacher had physically struck him. "What the hell does that mean?" he growled angrily.

"Shit, you haven't seemed ta give a rat's ass about his feelings the last month or so. Why the sudden concern for Vin now?" Sanchez pressed, hoping to force Chris to confront his actions and the reasons behind them.

The other men all lowered their beers, their attention riveted on the preacher and gunman. They held their collective breaths as Chris' expression darkened, his eyes going cold winter ice green as he locked his hard gaze on the older man.

"That's a damn lie, Preacher!" he hissed.

The ex-priest laughed, "Hell, we all saw how pissed you was at that boy, just cause he saw that woman and went after her. Might have been a sin, her being married and all, even if it wasn't a happy marriage, but it wasn't nothing to castigate the boy about and it sure wasn't anybody's right to judge him. Beside's seems ta me she didn't seem ta mind his attentions. Man's gotta find love where he can and I don't reckon Vin's had much of that in his life…" He focused somber eyes on Larabee, "Course, I reckon none of that even crossed your mind, did it?"

The words sank in and Chris had the decency to lower his eyes. Truth be told, he hadn't thought of it from that point of view. Come to think about it, he was Tanner's friend, but he had never once heard him mention having any girl in his life at all…

"That's it, Larabee. You get so caught up in your own darkness, you don't rightly give thought to what anyone else is going through. I know Vin, probably as well as you do, and I know that boy ain't got a bad bone in his body. You can't condemn a man for falling in love. He ain't done anything to make you treat him like some bastard in the woodpile!" The preacher turned accusing eyes to the others gathered around the table. "Ain't just you, though. Except for JD there...and maybe one other," he gave the gambler a quick glance before raking his gaze over the other men, "we've all treated him a bit different since that trip."

That named person dropped his face to hide his blush of embarrassment.

"Ya tell me, which one of you ain't had your head turned by a pretty lady? Huh?" He pinned each of them with a hard glare, "Buck? Ezra? Nathan? Hell, I'm even guilty of that sin myself!"

"So, Josiah, how do you suggest we rectify the situation?" Ezra questioned quietly.

Josiah shrugged his massive shoulders. "I don't know. That's somethin' we all gotta figure out on our own. I reckon we better have figured it out by the time he comes back though...If he comes back."

Larabee swung around. "He'll be back!" he declared vehemently. "He better be back!"

*******

The morning broke bright and beautiful as Vin awoke with Charlotte in his arms. He lay there, holding her, a smile on his face.

He could hear the horses tearing grass nearby, hear the drone of insects searching after morning dew, could hear birds singing as they greeted the sun. Old familiar sounds he had heard all his life, but somehow, this morning, they seemed even sweeter.

Unsure, feeling as though he was still caught in one of his dreams, he reached out to tenderly brush a strand of hair back from her face. He tenderly twined the strand around his finger, reveling in the silken feel of it against his calloused finger.

Charlotte sighed softly in her sleep, snuggling closer. The Texan let out a long deep sigh of his own, tightening his hold as he closed his eyes. This was no dream...

This was heaven.

*****

"Mister Larabee!"

Chris turned in front of the dressmaker's shop and eyed the blond newswoman as she hurriedly crossed the street, cutting off any retreat he might have wanted to make. He waited patiently as she stopped, short of breath, in front of him.

"Mister Larabee, I need to speak to you!"

A mental image of her long blond hair flowing freely, a carefree smile on her pretty face as her horse galloped along beside the wagon train, suddenly filled Larabee's mind. He gave her a lazy grin. "Then speak away, Mary. What's wrong?"

She huffed out a deep breath. "A rider just came in and delivered a message from Gerard. You know, from the settlers...The wagon train... Dickie O'Shea..."

"I know who he is, Mary. What's the message?" If the city slicker's message involved asking Mary to wed him again, Chris was gonna ride out there and blow the man's citified ass straight to hell. Larabee averted his eyes, surprised by the jealousy that surged through him. It was the same feelings he'd had when he had watched Mary and Gerard laughing together, talking over dinner, dancing at the hoe down and discussing their possible future.

Mary pulled the crumpled scribbled note from her apron pocket. "He thinks they've had a murder."

Larabee compressed his lips together and shook his head. "And why does he think that?"

"Two of the men were out panning for gold and they found Richmond's body in the creek, his head bashed in."

The man in black sighed heavily. "Could it have been an accident? He slipped and hit his head on a rock? What makes him think it was murder?"

"He doesn't say. Gerard isn't stupid, Chris. I'm sure he would have looked around and checked into it being an accident," she pointed out.

"He say anything about the wife… that Charlotte?" He spoke the woman's name as though it left a vile taste in his mouth.

"According to Gerard, Charlotte's no where to be found…"

"So why did he let you know? Figure you'd want the story for your paper?"

Mary compressed her lips and bit her tongue before replying. "He wants you to look into it."

"Why? There's closer law in Vista City."

Mary looked away, and then spoke quietly, "Several of his people said they saw a long haired man on a blazed face black bay lurking around."

"Vin…" Larabee growled bitterly. "He thinks it was Vin. I should have known that quiet bastard was up to something stupid...All 'cause of that woman!"

"Chris!" the newspaperwoman interjected sharply. "Listen to yourself! You don't even know if it was Vin!"

"Well, he's been pining after that woman like some school boy with his first crush and he damn well ain't here."

"You don't really believe that!" She shook her head, wondering what had happened to cause such a rift between the two men. "Besides, a man's innocent until proven guilty, Chris! Why don't you wait for Vin's side of this?"

The gunslinger cocked his head to one side and gave her a smug look, "His side, Mary? That means you think he might be involved, too, don't it?"

She shook her head and threw her hands up in disgust. "I don't know what to think! I do know you better have some facts and have them right before you go accusing Vin of anything...Otherwise you're going to destroy a friendship I really don't think you want to lose."

Hadn't he been worried about that very thing since Josiah's lecture? Raking a hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh, Chris nodded. "All right, Mary. I'll ride out to your friend's place and see what he knows...or thinks he knows." He stepped off the boardwalk, then turned back, "You got any message for Gerard you want delivered?"

Mary glanced down at the wooden boards beneath her feet. "I gave Gerard my answer before I came back to Four Corners, Chris. I've not got anything further to add." Her heart beat a bit faster, hoping he would understand what she left unsaid.

Giving her a small smile, the gunman moved across the street, looking for Josiah. He wanted company on the ride out to the settlers' and an extra set of eyes. Someone who could look at the evidence a little more objectively than he could.

*******

Giving Charlotte a good morning kiss, Vin reluctantly crawled from the shared bedroll. Smiling, whistling under his breath as he moved about the small camp, Tanner built up the fire and started a fresh pot of coffee.

Charlotte slipped off into the brush for privacy and gear in hand; the tracker knelt beside the small stream. Filling the canteens, he set them aside and glancing back toward the little clearing, quickly stripped down. His breath catching in his throat as he stepped into the cold water, Tanner made quick work of his bath, shivering as he slipped back into his pants and a clean shirt.

Stating she'd just found him again and wasn't ready to share him with his friends, Charlotte had begged for time just so the two of them could be alone, hence they'd spent two days in the tiny glen nestled in the trees a half mile from the only cabin he'd seen in the area.

Two wonderful days of making love and plans for the future, but now it was time to return to Four Corners. To return long enough to gather supplies and his wagon. To return long enough to say goodbye.

Seeing his reflection in the water, his thoughts on Charlotte, Vin used his knife to scrap the stubble from his face, before returning to the campfire. He was surprised to find no sign of the woman who'd haunted his thoughts and dreams for the past few weeks and spent the last two nights in his arms..."Charlotte?"

"I'm here, Vin. I'm changing my clothes…" she called from behind a tangle of bushes.

The tracker smiled, amused by her sudden modesty. Crossing the short distance to care for the horses, Vin wondered about the occupant of the little cabin. Did he ever come here to relax and think? Did he have a wife he brought here for picnics? Did he know what a magical place this little clearing was? Would he mind that Tanner and Charlotte had stayed here, renewing their love, and planning a new life together?

Still smiling as he brushed the gelding's neck, his thoughts on the woman who held his heart, he was slow to react when Peso threw his head back, showing the whites of his eyes and whickering.

His world shattered into fragments of pain as something smashed against his skull and Peso's wild frantic nickers faded into nothingness as darkness descended.

*******

The last trip they had made to the new settlement had taken a week, but without being hampered by wagons carrying memories of a past life and hopes for a new one, the lawmen had made the journey in a day and a half.

They had spent the previous day at the settlers' encampment. Both men had been surprised by how fast the little settlement was growing.

Tempered by Josiah's presence when the older man had refused to let Chris speak alone with the man who had hoped to wed Mary Travis, Larabee's tone was brusque when talking with Gerard.

The city raised Gerard surprised them with his thoroughness of looking into Richmond's death. He had made notes on the area around the body, and on the body itself before it was removed for burial. He had even questioned neighbors on anything strange they might have noticed.

Taking advantage of the preacher's visit, several of the settlers had quickly gathered for an impromptu church service. Jack's widow had given birth to a girl and she wished the child baptized before the lawmen returned home, so Chris left Josiah to take care of their religious needs and rode out to Richmond's homestead alone.

Larabee had searched the area where Richmond's body had been found, but weather and the passage of time, had destroyed any signs that might have been left behind. In this country, it didn't take long for the weather to change the landscape and he didn't have Vin's skill in tracking.

The lawman hadn't failed to notice the makeshift shack the Richmond's had been residing in while tending the fields and the building revealed signs of a hasty departure. A bag of sugar had been dropped as food supplies were gathered together. The blankets were missing and there were no dresses in the bureau or hanging on the clothesline.

Disgusted, and puzzled, convinced Gerard was right and Richmond had been the victim of foul play, he had headed back to Gerard's homestead. Over supper the two lawmen had compared notes on their discoveries, getting more input from Gerard. They had taken their leave early this morning after promising to contact the Judge on the settlers' behalf.

Now both men rode deep in thought.

Josiah jogged his mount up beside Chris'. "You honestly think Vin had a hand in this?" he questioned bluntly.

Chris reined to a stop and sat toying with the leathers in his hand. "Tell ya the truth, Josiah, I don't know. I wish I did. I sure wish I could say I didn't have any doubts."

The preacher looked off in the distance and huffed out a deep breath. "Don't seem the sorta thing Brother Vin would do," he mused more to himself than his companion.

"As Buck pointed out, love makes a man do strange things and he sure seemed taken with Charlotte." He glanced sideways at the grizzled man. "Ya ever done somethin' ya regretted, all because of a woman?"

Josiah's deep baritone laughter seemed to roll over the low hills. "Brother, you have no idea!"

"Ya sayin' ya did?" Chris pressed.

"Ya sayin' ya didn't?" Josiah countered with a wink.

"Hell, Preacher, we've all been a fool for love," Chris admitted guiltily. "Why should Vin be any different?"

Sanchez's tone took on a note of earnest seriousness. "He mighta loved her, Chris, but he wouldn't have killed to get her. We both know Vin wouldn't hesitate to kill if it meant protectin' someone, but murder's somethin' else altogether. It was plain Vin was getting' over that woman, Chris. He wouldn't have killed for her."

Chris turned to look him full in the face. "You know that for sure, Josiah?"

"I know Vin Tanner," the man responded. "You know him too, Chris, if ya can just see past whatever's been botherin' ya lately. You know it isn't in that boy to cold bloodedly kill a man."

"Do I? Hell, Josiah, how well do any of us know the other? How many men have I killed and why? You don't know and I sure don't know how many you've killed or your reasons either. Our lives didn't just begin the day we entered Four Corners, although I'm sure, there are some out there who would like to think so. We all have a past, Josiah, and no matter what we have done, it's always in us to do it again."

Josiah's expression fell. Larabee had a point. How well did any of them know the others? Still... "A man can change, Brother Chris. Just look at you," he pointed out candidly.

"That's right preacher, a man can change... But sometimes that change is for the worst." Shaking his head, with a disgusted growl, Chris spurred his horse and rode away, leaving Josiah to follow.

*******

Once back in town, Chris' tempered flared to the fore when the hostler informed them the tracker still was not back. He exchanged looks with Josiah as they dismounted at the livery and turned their horses over to Tiny. "Don't look good, Preacher," he murmured as he stripped his saddlebags from behind the cantle.

Josiah shook his head. "Have faith, Brother. He'll be back."

Chris hesitated. "What makes you so damn sure, Josiah? Like you pointed out, I sure haven't made him feel welcome these last few weeks."

The older man gave him a quick grin. "Well, Brother Chris, his wagon's still here. Besides, the one thing I do know for certain is Vin Tanner has a very big forgiving heart and if I do know anything at all about him, it's that he will be back. Unless..." he suddenly trailed off to fall silent and thoughtful.

"Unless what?" Chris demanded.

"Unless he's unable," Sanchez admitted.

Chris frowned for a few moments, then, "Ya mean hurt?"

Josiah shook his massive head. "Brother Larabee, that boy was already hurtin' deep. That's why he left. I meant maybe Vin isn't able to return."

Larabee stared at him, unwillingly to believe something had happened to the tracker that would prevent the two of them from settling their differences and resuming their friendship.

The ex-priest's expression became thoughtful. "Doesn't it seem a bit odd to you in Gerard's notes, all those settlers he spoke to describe that fella lurking around the same way? They all said he had long curly hair, wore buckskins and a gray hat, and rode a blaze faced black bay."

Chris frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that description reeks of the way Vin looked when we were with the wagon train. It's like someone wanted it to look like Vin Tanner--- but think on it, Chris. Vin is an excellent marksman. If he wanted to kill Richmond, he wouldn't bash him in the back of the head. He'd just shoot him from a distance where no one could see him. Why advertise his presence? Unless..."

"Someone set Vin up?" Larabee blurted. "Who?"

"As you said, Brother, we all have a past and it could be anyone. But," Josiah pressed his lips together and shook his head, "but I can't help but thinking of the old saying "Hell hath no fury..."

*******

Noon the next day, with still no sign of the tracker, Chris was sitting with Buck outside the jail. The gunman was naturally quiet as he smoked and Buck respected his privacy enough to let him be. He knew his old friend was worried about the sharpshooter...they all were, but there was little they could do until something broke.

Chris and Josiah had filled the others in on what had been discovered at the settlement and, as if following Sanchez's train of thought, Ezra had questioned the fact the people who had reported seeing the lurking longhaired man hadn't traveled with the train when it left Four Corners. Any of the original settlers wouldn't have described Vin, but rather would have called him by name.

Buck hid his smile as Standish stepped from the saloon, and leaning against a porch post seemed to casually check the street before re-entering the building. Each of the men displayed their worry as time passed without word of Tanner and Wilmington knew he wasn't the only one searching for signs of their missing friend while on patrol.

There was a chill in the air and Wilmington glanced at the dark clouds on the distant horizon, hoping Vin was safely sheltered from the approaching storm. He took a long swallow of his warm beer and sighed, wishing something would happen.

He had no inclination that longed for something was about to erupt on Main Street.

"Chris! Chris!"

Both men turned to see people hastily scramble out of the way. JD, one hand holding his bowler hat on his head, was yelling as his horse thundered down the thoroughfare as if attempting to outrun a Texas twister. Seeing the men at the jail, he pulled up, throwing dust into the air.

Buck grabbed the reins, wrapping them around the hitching post and the horse stood blowing and heaving as Dunne vaulted down and bound up on the boardwalk.

"Chris! Buck!" His voice could be heard up and down the street and many of the town folk stuck their heads out doors and windows to see what the uproar was.

Chris pushed to his feet and met the kid on the boards. Behind him, Ezra hurried down the walk from the saloon.

JD was bent over, his hands on his knees as he gulped in breaths. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"What the hell's wrong, JD? Don't you know better than to run your horse down...?" Buck started to castigate the boy, but stopped at the expression on the younger man's face.

"Ch-Chris…" JD was still trying to catch his breath and spoke in a rush. "Chris, Buck… I's just outta at Miss Nettie's. Casey and me went ridin'... " He stopped to get his breath again and the older men nodded at information they already knew. "Out Jules City way we ran into this man..."

"So?" Larabee demanded rather harshly. Fool boy could get himself het up over the stupidest things.

"So... Look!" He motioned down the street.

Larabee, as well as Buck and Ezra, turned to see Casey riding into town at a more sedate pace than JD's arrival. Larabee was about to cut loose on the boy again when he looked closer and saw Casey was leading a horse. The gunslinger felt the bottom drop outta his stomach. A blaze faced black bay...Peso!

"Where...?"

"JD, where did ...?"

"Isn't that Mister Tanner's...?"

All three men spoke at the same time.

JD nodded as Casey reined up and dismounted by the rail. The men all moved toward the horse she was leading. They exchanged looks then swung around to their youngest member. "All right, JD, what is going on?" Larabee demanded to know.

"Like I said, me and Casey was out ridin' and we ran into this feller….. And he had Vin's horse!" He reached out to stroke the gelding's neck and the animal nudged him, for once lacking all his ferocious nature. "The idiot had him rope hobbled..."

"He was walking on three legs!" Casey interjected, "And when he fought it, the man would jerk him down! It was awful!" she half cried, stroking the gelding's sweat streaked neck. Rope burns were evident on the gelding's neck and legs. "Fella said since he couldn't ride him, if he couldn't break him to harness or to pack, he was gonna get his ten dollars' pleasure outta shooting him!"

"Mister Dunne?" Ezra spoke up, "Did you inquire as to how the man obtained this animal?"

"Did I ... yeah, Ez, I asked. He said he was on his way back from Ruby City and he met this woman in a old wagon out on the road. Said he bought two horses from her. She told him she was a widow and that Peso used ta be her husband's horse, but she didn't have use for him and needed the money. The guy bought both of 'em for ten bucks each. For another five he got all the tack."

"Did he describe this woman?" Buck questioned.

JD nodded. "It sounded like that woman, you know the one on the wagon train that Vin was so taken by...that Richmond's wife."

"How did you end up with Peso?"

"Well, me and Casey pooled our money and gave the guy his fifteen dollars." Figuring the gambler was about to protest their paying the man for something that didn't rightly belong to him, the young sheriff hurried on. "I told him that horse belonged to one of the peacekeepers here... I mean I coulda probably just taken him as evidence cause it's most likely he's stole, but I reckon that fool didn't deserve ta lose money he spent in good faith."

Ezra bit his tongue, hoping neither of the other men pointed out the fact the man had to have known the animal was most likely stolen when he purchased it. No honest person would sell such a well cared for and saddle broke horse for such a piddling amount.

"Sure wish you could have seen his face when Casey walked right up and ol' Peso followed her like a puppy!" JD grinned.

"Mister Larabee, if Peso is here, where is Vin?" Casey worriedly voiced the question on all their minds.

Moreover, Chris had no answer.

******

Vin slowly came to his senses. He lay with his eyes closed, his head throbbing. After several long minutes, the sounds and motion registered and he realized he was in the back of a wagon with no memory of how he had gotten there. Lulled by the swaying motion, he lay with his eyes closed, floating in and out of consciousness.

Then in one lucid moment, he heard a voice calling out. This had to be one of his dreams, only he knew he was finally fully awake.

"Charlotte?" he croaked out her name as he struggled to push into a sitting position.

It was only then he realized his wrists were cuffed and chained to the side of the buckboard.

A dozen thoughts crowded into his fuzzy mind. 'Damn! What had happened? Bounty hunters? Where was Charlotte? Had she been hurt trying to protect him? Had she been left behind without supplies or a way to get help?'

The wagon stopped and he heard someone jump down to the ground. Vin fought to clear his head and focus his blurry eyes as the sound of small stones rolling away indicated footsteps approaching the back of the wagon.

"Charlotte?"

Relief she was all right was quickly replaced by grief when her face finally came into his view, but the cold laughter coming from her evidenced a total stranger. "So," she placed her hands on her hips as she haughtily stared down at him, "you awake? Been so long I was beginnin' ta think I hit ya to hard with that skillet."

She was dressed in jeans and man's flannel shirt. Her hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of her neck and a battered hat sat on her head.

With great effort, he managed to sit up despite the short length of chain, which ran from his handcuffs to the metal frame of the wagon. "What's this, Charlotte?" he puzzled, holding up his manacled wrists, the expression on his pale face bewildered. Vin didn't want to believe what was so plainly obvious.

She actually sneered. "Insurance protection."

He felt lightheaded as he tried to maintain focus on her face. "For what?" he questioned. The sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the pain in his head.

"Why for five hundred dollars." She laughed as his expression fell, shock over riding the pain on his visage. She shook her head, "After what you did, do you honestly think I would go anywhere with an uncouth illiterate ignorant saddle bum like you?"

The malicious words cut deeply into the gentle tracker's soul, crushing him. He had truly loved this woman. He had forsaken his friends to be with her, believing she cared about him.

However, the woman was not through hurting him as she ranted on, "Do you have any idea what it was like after you and your friends left? Do you? He would not let me out of his sight! I couldn't talk to any one, go anywhere, or do anything without him being right there! Moreover, it was entirely your fault! If you hadn't talked me into going off with you..." She paused long enough to get her breath, "You promised me a better life and instead you made my life hell! Now the least you can do is pay up." She smiled coldly, "I figure that five hundred dollar bounty should do nicely."

With great effort, he managed to sit up despite the short length of chain, which ran from his handcuffs to the metal frame of the wagon.

Vin sat with his head down, shoulders hunched against the bitter spiteful words coming from this person he had cherished above all others. He hoped this was one of his dreams, but he could feel the warm sun on his skin and the gritty wind borne dust blinding his eyes. It was real, all too real and he could not help but wonder how he could have been so mistaken.

When he made no response to her tirade, Charlotte stormed back to the front of the wagon and climbed up on the seat. Urging the horses forward, she ignored the tracker, as she headed southwest.

Towards Texas.

*******

JD nervously bounced up and down in the jail doorway and voiced the question the other men were thinking: "Where do you think Vin is?"

Chris looked at his companions; hoping one of them had an answer to their youngest member's question. No one spoke.

It was Ezra who finally moved across the room with a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. Pausing before the territorial map pinned to the wall behind the desk, he studied it for several minutes, and then, ignoring Dunne's yelp of protest, he reached out to rip it from the wall.

Spreading it out flat on the desk top, he glanced up at Larabee. "It would appear they are moving in a southwesterly direction."

Seeing the baffled looks on the other men's faces, he tapped the map with a long index finger, pointing out a waterway. "This is the settlement." He trailed his finger over the paper. "Here is the road between Ruby City, and Jules City where Mister Dunne and Miss Casey purchased Peso." He brought his gaze up to meet Larabee's. "If they continue in a similar manner, they will end up...in Texas."

The black clad gunman's hazel eyes flashed wider as he shook his head. "Vin wouldn't have..." he whispered, half plea, half denial.

Josiah, understanding more quickly than the others, spoke quietly, "He loved her, Chris. Of course he told her everything."

JD looked from the Hoosier to the preacher to Ezra, bewildered. "What?"

Ezra answered, his voice flat, although emotion flickered in his green eyes, "Mrs. Richmond knows there's a five hundred dollar bounty on Mister Tanner's shaggy head."

The young sheriff shook his head in denial, "You don't think… No! She wouldn't..." he turned his plaintive gaze towards Buck, "would she?"

Wilmington shook his head with a small shrug, but it was Chris who moved for the door first. "Let's ride!"

*******

A storm was brewing on the distant horizon when driving the wagon higher into the mountains, Charlotte finally reined the horses to a halt next an old abandoned barn. Ravaged by fire, there was little left of the old log house that had stood nearby. While the barn had fared somewhat better, the doors had long since blown off and some of the shingles were missing, but at least it would offer shelter against the impending bad weather.

Ignoring Vin who sat slumped in the rear of the wagon, the red head unhitched the team and tied the horses to a section of corral fence which was still standing. That accomplished, she flashed the sharpshooter a bright smile as she reached over the tailgate and taking a bag of supplies, moved inside the wooden structure, humming to herself.

A short time later, the aroma of coffee mixed with that of wood smoke drifted to the wagon and Vin's empty stomach lurched, not remembering the last time he had eaten.

His head down, Vin stared blankly at the floorboards, paying no mind to the heavy scent of rain carried on the chill wind.

He could hear Charlotte moving about in the building beyond, but she continued to discount him as if he did not exist. Caught in his own pain of leaving her behind, Vin hadn't thought about the hurt she must have felt when he rode back to Four Corners. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Admittedly, she had come to him ready to leave, ready to start a life with him, but remembering her reaction when Richmond had been injured, Vin had hesitated. He had thought she might feel obligated because he'd saved her from O'Shea's men, but it appeared she still had feeling for her husband. Vin had stepped aside thinking Charlotte and Richmond deserved a second chance to make their marriage work. He hadn't expected things to become worse for her.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he did owe her.

Darkness was rapidly falling when the sound of an approaching horse drifted on the wind. Charlotte must have heard it, too, because she ran out to look expectantly in that direction. A few short minutes later, a man rode up on a white-faced bay and dismounted.

Leaning against the horse, the longhaired newcomer smiled as Charlotte threw herself at him, wrapping her arms about his neck, and clinging to him as they shared a deep passionate kiss.

The resemblance between the buckskin clad stranger and himself never occurred to Vin as he raised his head and saw her wanton actions. His shoulders slumped even further and he dropped his gaze back to the boards.

"Where'd ya get the wagon?" He questioned as unwrapping himself from the woman's arms, the rider walked to the rear of the wagon and stood eyeing the tracker.

"Borrowed it. He wouldn't wake up so I had ta have somethin' ta haul him in or spend a fourth day in that clearin'."

Vin started. 'Fourth day? He'd spent a whole day unconscious?'

"So that's him, huh?"

Charlotte nodded. "That's him."

"Don't 'ppear like nothin' ta me." He commented, removing his gray hat and studying the silent tracker. "What makes him so special ya had ta drag 'im along with us

"Oh, he's real special...," she purred.

"How so?" the man persisted.

"There's folk in Texas who'll pay for this…" she reached out and flicked a strand of Tanner's long hair, "shaggy head of his. Ain't that right, darlin'?" she baited the Texan.

Vin gave no answer and, compressing her lips into an angry line, she grabbed the other man's arm and dragged him toward the barn.

He held back. "Let me tend my horse, woman," he murmured and with another glance at Tanner, pulled away from her.

Charlotte waited with ill-concealed impatience as a cold misty drizzle began to fall.

Once the horse was unsaddled and hitched next to the team, the man joined her, slipping an arm about her waist. He jerked his chin towards the man in the wagon. "What about him?"

Charlotte gave him a bland look. "What about him?"

"Hell, woman, it's gonna rain somethin' fierce and the way them temperatures are fallin' it could be snowin' by mornin'. Ya just gonna leave 'im out here to freeze?"

"I don't particularly want an audience." She smiled, winking as she tugged him toward the warmth of the fire inside. "Besides the bounty is payable, dead, or alive."

*******

"Nathan, you're comin' with me," Chris declared from the doorway as Buck grabbed several boxes of shells from the desk drawer and started to follow. Larabee paused in the doorway, blocking Wilmington's path. "You stay here with JD, Buck. I know ya both wanna go, but someone has to watch out for the town. Josiah, Nathan, let's go."

Seeing Buck's expression, knowing how concerned the womanizer was, not only for Vin, but for Larabee as well, the big man intervened. "Brother Buck will ride with you. He's better at trackin' than me. I'll stay here in town with JD."

Nonplussed, Sanchez returned Larabee's stare. The preacher knew Buck needed to be with Chris. If something had happened to Vin, Larabee would need his oldest friend.

The ex-priest glanced at Ezra, who ignored by Larabee, remained staring at the map on the desk. Whether the con man would admit it or not, Josiah knew how much the southerner cared for Tanner. Like the others, the gambler had been prepared to join the search for their friend and Josiah had seen him quickly hide his hurt expression when Larabee had excluded him, seeming to forget he was even in the room.

"Reckon Ezra oughta tag along." Sanchez stated. "He's gotta way a seein' things others tend ta miss.

Glaring, not taking time to dispute Josiah, Chris spun and hurried for the livery, the other three men on his heels.

"Mister Jackson! Mister Jackson!" Jim Hester ran up and frantically grabbed the healer's arm as the men reached the livery. "Ya gotta come quick!!"

"Let's go, Nathan!"

"Ya gotta come, Mister Jackson!" The farmer agitatedly moved from foot to foot. "It's the babies! One of 'em ain't breathin' right! It sounds real strange, like he's got a bad cold."

Torn between the possibility that Vin might need him and the certainty the Hester baby did need him, Nathan hesitated in the doorway.

"Go on, Nate." Chris finally urged reluctantly.

As they hurriedly gathered their gear and saddled up, Wilmington suddenly paused. "There's a lotta trails to Tascosa. How do we know which one that witch'll take?"

Ezra tugged his stirrup latigo into place before answering. "She's a woman. She will take the most direct route."

"Just how just do you know that?" Larabee glared at the southerner as he tightened his saddle cinch.

"I do know something about avaricious people, Mister Larabee. She will go by the fastest way" Ezra shrugged. "Do you have a better suggestion?"

"And if you are wrong?" Chris let the words hang in the air between them. Larabee glared at him. "If you're wrong Ezra..."

The gambled nodded, the unspoken warning all too clear in the Hoosier's voice, "I understand." As he turned back to finish tacking up, he softly whispered, "If I'm wrong, you'll be second in line…"

Ezra would never be able forgive himself if they were too late to help his longhaired friend.

*******

Heartbroken, Vin felt as if he'd been kicked in the head by a Missouri mule as he watched Charlotte cling to the stranger, hearing her whispers of what would take place later that night in her bedroll as she led him to the barn.

Shocked and dismayed, it suddenly became very clear just what a dangerous woman she had become. Whether the change had been caused by Richmond's treatment of her, her own guilt for her behavior on the wagon train or what she considered Vin's rejection, really didn't matter. Something had pushed her over the edge and his life depended on his pulling himself together and gaining his freedom.

As the cold rain continued to fall, he huddled against the rough wood of the wagon's rear gate, his knees pulled up to his chest, wanting nothing more than to disappear as rapacious groans and cries of passion came from the direction of the barn.

Darkness surrounded him and the cold rain pelted down from the heavens, blowing in through the back of the canvas opening. He dropped his chin and the rain ran over him, dripping from his long hair. However, the wetness washing over him couldn't wash away the pain of his broken heart.

Soaked and shivering, suffering the effects of a concussion, Vin didn't realize he'd dozed off until he was suddenly jerked awake when a light touch shook his shoulder. The moon was obscured by the thunderclouds, but blinking owlishly, he could barely make out a lone figure in the darkness.

"Here. It ain't much…Found it in a corner of the barn."

A musty smelling blanket, reeking of age and mice droppings was thrust at him. The man paused as he turned to go back inside. "Don't matter none, but I wanted ya ta know, I didn't kill her husband…," he murmured, before hurrying away.

Vin stared after the man, then swallowing his pride, he draped the tattered fabric about his shoulders in an attempt to ward off the cold….

*******

Chris stared at the wagon wheel ruts as his horse moved along. A determined thought attempted yet again to rear its ugly head and like the times before, he refused to acknowledge it.

Intently focused on the tracks, he thought instead of their luck the previous day.

They had approached a small homestead and asked to water their horses. The old man who came out, shotgun cradled in his arms, didn't look all that friendly, but he had motioned to the water trough and the three riders had dismounted.

The old man had waved a gnarled hand at the well pump. "Mite well fill up 'em canteens of yourn. I can see ya rode a bit," he admitted.

With a nod of thanks, Buck had gathered the canteens and moved to comply while Ezra led the horses to the trough, taking time to wipe them down with a dry cloth as they drank.

As he stood looking off into the distance, Larabee had felt, but ignored the gambler's covert glances.

"Ya trailin' somebody?" the homesteader questioned abruptly.

"You could say that," Buck admitted.

"What they do? Steal your horses, too?"

Chris' head snapped around at the words and he whirled to face the old man. "'Too?'"

"Yeah, ol' Hiram Nance – he be my closest neighbor out here – stopped by on the way to town and whilst he was inside a'jawin' with me, someone stole his wagon. His ol' wagon weren't much ta speak of, the canvas top needed patchin', but he was right proud of his team…" He stopped, his gaze jumping from one man to the other. "Them the ones ya be followin'?"

"Could be. Ya happen to know which way they headed," Buck questioned.

"Looks like they was camped up in the hills there...Found the remains of their fire. We followed 'em tracks 'till it got too dark. Looks like they's headed south, Texas way."

Chris didn't wait to hear more as he swung up in his saddle and spurred his black out of the yard. Buck followed and it was Ezra who reined back after mounting and thanked the old man.

"Ya find 'em, ya bring ol' Hiram's horses back, ya hear?"

Ezra nodded, then followed his friends.

They had followed the tracks the remainder of the day. The three men had passed a miserable night beneath the lean-to Buck had quickly erected as the rain began to fall, and had headed out again at first light.

"How far ahead of us do you think they are, Mister Wilmington?" Ezra questioned, drawing another glare from the black clad gunslinger.

"Don't matter! We don't quit 'till we catch up to 'em and find out what's goin' on, even if we have ta follow them right into the damn Tascosa jail!" Larabee snarled. "Ya don't like it, ya can head back ta the damn poker tables!"

"Maybe a half day," the ladies' man answered as if the Hoosier hadn't interrupted. "They're headin' higher into the mountains and this mud is sure ta slow 'em down some."

Buck rode his horse up along side of the gunman's black. Larabee's mood wasn't likely to improve any, so now was as good a time as any to voice his concern. "Chris…?"

Larabee reined back, giving his mount time to blow and Buck did the same as Ezra drew rein beside them. "Ya got somethin' ta say Buck, quit pussy footin' and spit it out."

Wilmington cleared his throat, his words tentative. "Somethin' has got me worried, Hoss," he admitted cautiously, seeing Larabee grimace. "Reckon ya caught it, too."

"What?" The gambler looked from one man to the other. He might be able to read his gambling parties' faces like a book, but he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary in the wagon trail they were following.

"I ain't seen any of Vin's boot prints at any of those stops," Buck pointed out. "So either we're followin' the wrong wagon or..." He trailed off at the stricken look which came to Larabee's face.

Ezra rubbed a hand over his unshaven face and drew in a deep breath. "Or that explains exactly why Miz Richmond required the wagon."

Chris spun on the two, his eyes flashing with cold winter's ice. "He ain't dead! Just get that damn thought outta your head! Vin ain't dead!" he shouted, kicking his horse into a gallop, a dangerous action in the thick mud.

Buck exchanged sorrowful looks with the gambler. "She wouldn't have... Would she?" He sought assurance, but saw only fear in the southerner's emerald eyes.

"Like the poster said, Mister Wilmington, our Mister Tanner is wanted…. dead or alive…." He shook his head, sorrow filling his voice as he muttered, "I would have given her the five hundred dollars myself if I had only known it would come down to this."

Buck nodded quietly, thinking the same thing.

*******

The rain finally slacked off to a cold drizzle as false dawn began to lighten the eastern sky. Vin stirred, grimacing at the cold which had settled in his bones. He shook aside the ratty blanket and stretched out his legs, rattling the confining chains that held him.

With plenty of time to think, Vin had only come to one conclusion. He had to escape. If they got him to Tascosa, he was as good as dead. Eyeing the shackles about his wrists, he began working the metal down over his right hand.

He wasn't sure how long he struggled with the cuff when the sudden sound of a nearby gunshot startled him and he recognize the sound of his own weapon.

His blue eyes widened and his heart pounded against his ribs as Charlotte stepped from the barn, his mare's leg dangling from her grasp. Why had she felt the need to use his gun? Had she killed a barn rat? Perhaps a wild animal that wandered into the building seeking warmth.

Humming to herself, ignoring him, she crossed to ram the weapon in its holster, which lay on the wagon seat, close but still out of reach.

As Charlotte set about hitching the team to the wagon, Vin eyed the weapon, his gaze shifting to the barn, his heart racing faster as he waited for her current lover to emerge.

His heart sank when, stripping the leather from the bay, Charlotte smacked the horse on the rump, sending it running down the trail. Vin watched as the freed animal slowed to a trot and finally stopped to graze on the thick grass.

Returning to the barn, the woman exited again, blankets and gear under her arm. She tossed everything into the wagon before lifting the saddle over the tailgate. Climbing onto the seat she, released the brake and flicking the reins drove the team out of the yard without a backward glance.

The abandoned bay whickered loudly in the still morning air, and trotted a short distance after them before once again dropping its head to attack the lush grass.

Comprehension dawned and all the color in the tracker's face washed out. "Charlotte…"

She didn't turn to even look at him. "Five hundred is a lot a money, but ya didn't really think I was gonna share it with him, did ya? I'm gonna find me a rich man who'll give me the life I want, not some lawman makin' a dollar a day or a drifter with only the clothes on his back...Course I should be able to sell his saddle." She began humming to herself as she urged on the horses.

Stunned, Vin huddled against the wagon gate, more certain than ever the one thing he had to do was get away from Charlotte Richmond. If he were lucky, it would be with his life.

*******

Ezra exchanged a worried glance with Buck before turning his gaze to Larabee again as the three men took a few moments to rest their horses. Since his earlier declaration, the gunslinger had remained unusually silent even for him.

God help Vin, if they discovered he was merely following his heart because, without a release for the fear and concern which consumed him, who knew how the Hoosier would react. If on the other hand, the woman had done something to hurt Tanner, God himself wouldn't be able to prevent Chris from exacting revenge.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Buck pointed to something moving in the distance. Spurring their horses, they left the trail, moving cautiously. The bay horse raised his head eyeing the men warily as they drew rein.

Ezra dismounted, passing his reins to Buck as he walked toward the animal. It threw its head up and eyed him, but made no move to run as he slipped his rope around its neck and fashioned a temporary halter. Docile, the animal trailed him back to where the other two men waited.

"Ya know," Buck studied the animal up close, "that critter looks a little like ol' Peso..." He trailed off.

Chris swung around, his sharp gaze scanning the surrounding area. "What is he doing out here?"

"Perhaps," Ezra offered as he mounted, "you could back track him as Mister Tanner most certainly would."

Larabee gave him a hostile look and didn't deem to answer as he bent over his saddle horn, searching out the tracks and jigging his horse along their line. Buck followed and Ezra trailed them, leading the found horse.

Several miles on, entering a small valley, the black clad man reined up, his gaze raking over the farmstead. Not wanting to frighten an innocent, Chris hollered out a greeting as they approached the crumbling buildings, but there was no response. Drawing rein, the three men sat contemplating their next course of action.

"Tracks seem ta stop here."

"Y'all smell smoke?" Buck questioned, his gaze searching the area.

"Now that you mention it, yes," Ezra admitted. "Surely it isn't from the cabin." he waved a hand toward the burnt out building.

Chris urged his horse forward, his sharp-eyed gaze glued on the ground. As he neared the dilapidated fence, he dismounted to get a better look. "Wagon was here..."

A sudden crashing noise in the nearby barn caused the man to swivel around, his gun magically appearing in his hand. "You...in the barn! Come out with your hands up!" he bellowed out.

There was no reaction or movement from within and with a nod to Wilmington, the gunman cautiously moved for the structure, knowing Buck was at his back and Ezra was covering them both.

His steps slowed as he approached the gaping doorway. He called out again, with no response and gun cocked, he stood to the side for a moment, staring into the building, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness within before finally stepping inside.

"Buck! Ezra!"

Gun in hand, Buck dashed inside after his friend with Ezra right on his heels. Both men slid to a stop just inside the open doorway, their hearts skipping a beat at the sight of Larabee kneeling over the inert figure of a thin man in buckskins. They began to breath again only when a closer look revealed the man wasn't Tanner.

"He's been shot!" Chris called out.

Ezra hurriedly retrieved their saddlebags and canteens returning to find Buck and Chris had made the man as comfortable as possible and were working to stop the bleeding, Even from where he stood it was evident the young man had been gut shot and catching his gaze Wilmington gave a slight shake of his head. Even with the care of a doctor, few men survived that kind of wound.

The three of them exchanged looks. It was a slow and painful way to die.

Plainly, the wounded man knew this as well. Pain filled eyes followed their movements as they added wood to the embers of the previous night's fire and started a pot of coffee. He gave a slight nod of thanks as Ezra gently placed a folded shirt under his head and covered him with a blanket.

When the Arbuckle's was finally brewing and the horses tended, the man watched as they settled down on the grass-strewn floor next to him. "Yer friends of his, ain't ya?" He asked as Buck eased his head back onto the makeshift pillow after giving him several swallows of the hot liquid.

"Of whom, sir?" Ezra quizzed quietly.

"Tanner."

"And if we are...?" Buck trailed off.

"Ya gotta help 'im. That woman...that Charlotte...She's crazy. She shot me. Just up and pulled the trigger with no warnin' at all." He bit back a grimace and rode out a wave of pain before focusing on them again. "She 'tends ta turn 'im in fer the bounty. She blames him...said he seduced her and ruin't her life." He shook his head. "Ruin't it her ownself iffen ya ask me." He felt silent as another wave of agony washed over him. He huffed out several breaths and sweat sprang out on his forehead. "Lordy, that hurts!"

"Sorry we ain't got nothing with us to help ya," Buck apologized. He had seen men shot like this in the War and it wasn't a pretty way to go. Some lingered in pain for days until the blood poisoning worked thru their system.

"Listen, boys, I didn't kill 'her husband. Took up with her a-about a month back...I ain't no-no murderer...I'd ride the ridge by the settlement...it was our signal...She'd sneak off and meet me in the woods. She tolt me she jist wanted ta get away from 'im. Tolt me...sh-she wanted ta be with m-me...Hell, I believed her. Tolt me 'bout y'all. She said iffen anybody saw me...they'd just reckon yer friend come back fer her. Said wh-when we run off, her husband would go l-lookin' fer him." His brown eyes were serious as he locked gazes with Chris. "Took up with another m-man's wife but I swear, mister, that's all I done! Her old man was done dead when I met her that morning. She'd bashed his head in with an skillet. Said he caught her tryin' ta leave. She didn't seem none too upset 'bout doin' it neither. Didn't bother her anymore than it-it did killin' me. That's why...that's why I know'd she'd kill yer friend without a second thought."

"Ezra, why don't you stay here?" Chris suggested as he pushed to his feet. The man's words only served to fire the urgency he felt to find Vin. "Maybe we can find a doctor..."

"Nah," the man shook his head. "that's all right. Never had no body 'round me b'fore, sure don't need none 'round now that I'm dyin'. Ya all just get after yer friend and if ya come back this way, ya might see fit ta...ta bury me..." At their shocked expressions, he actually laughed aloud. "Hell, boys, I know I'm a dead man…. That bitch kilt me fer sure."

"I...we..." Buck flustered, looking at Chris helplessly, not knowing what to say.

"Reckon, she can't be more'n couple hours ahead of ya. If ya ride fast, ya can catch up ta 'em." He waved his hand in the air, "Go after yer friend and ferget 'bout me. He don't need ta hang cause of her." He smiled. "Hell, iffen I had friends like y'all, I mighta turned out better my ownself." He smiled, trying to ignore the pain. "Iffen ya got tobacco, I-I'd be obliged."

Chris reached in his pocket and withdrew three cheroots, pressing them in the man's hand along with several lucifers.

"Thanks. Ain't nothin' like a good smoke ta calm a man. Don't reckon ya got anything stronger 'an water ta drink?" he asked hopefully.

Hoping to ease the man's pain, Ezra had already emptied most of the contents of his flask into the cup he'd found near the remains of the fire. "Would some southern whiskey do, sir?"

He lifted the mug and took a swallow, letting it linger on his tongue before finally swallowing. "Damn fine hooch." He grimaced in pain, but took another swallow. "Reckon ya best be getting' on yer way." He saw their looks and forced a smile. "I'll be fine, boys... Hell, we all know by the time ya fetched a doc, it would be too late anyway… I'll just enjoy this fine whiskey and these smokes... Ya go rescue yer friend."

Nodding, offering mumbled words of goodbye, the three men hurriedly led their horses from the barn and climbed into the saddles.

Behind them, visible in the light of the barn's doorway, the man struck a light to one of the cheroots

"I hate to do this…leave him like that," Buck spoke quietly, glancing back at the old structure.

"He's right, Buck. Ain't nothin' can be done for him now. We did what we could," Larabee remarked as he settled in the saddle and reined out of the yard. The other two men followed slowly.

They were nearly to the far slope when they heard the echo of a single gun shot, ringing across the valley.

Ezra and Buck reined up, Standish closing his eyes as Wilmington turned in the saddle to look back at the distance structure.

"She used him. He was just a means to an end."

"We didn't even think ta ask him his name," Buck whispered sorrowfully.

*******

Paralleling a swiftly running creek, the rickety wagon creaked and groaned as Charlotte urged the team on through the trees only stopping long enough to pull on Vin's slicker when the cold drizzling rain began again. She paid no attention to Tanner as she hummed to herself, and occasionally yelled at the horses when they slipped in the thick mud.

Grimacing as the rigid metal broke the skin again, starting another rivulet of blood trickling down his arm; Vin continued to work at the manacle. He paid it no mind as he grimaced and struggled to work his hand free.

He'd manuveared the shackle half way over his hand when he felt the wagon slue about on the wet ground, and looking up, saw the team was laboring to pull the wagon up a steep grade. Charlotte was standing in the driver's box, freely using the whip and the poor animals were laboring in the slick mud.

"Charlotte…." Well aware of what could happen if she continued, he called out her name, attempting to warn her the animals were doing the best they could under the circumstances. He knew she needed to get two wheels off the muddy trace and work the animals at a slow steady pace.

"Charlotte! Listen to---"

The words were drowned out by the loud crack and splintering of wood as the wagon tongue broke away. The reins wrapped around her hand, Charlotte screamed as the horses, finding themselves no longer hampered by the heavy load, lunged forward, pulling her from the seat, dragging her along the muddy road for several yards.

Vin frantically struggled to free himself as, no longer held in place by the horses, the wagon began to roll backwards. It quickly slid sideways in the mud, leaving the trace.

Giving a frantic jerk, the manacle pulled over Tanner's hand, taking the skin with it.

He tugged at the cuff still imprisoning his left arm as the conveyance picked up momentum. He could see the rushing water just yards away and rapidly getting closer. Realizing he couldn't free himself, he tried unsuccessfully to brace himself as he felt the wheels catch on the rough berm and the wagon tipped crazily.

His left hand still shackled, unable to escape the out of control vehicle, the sharpshooter was tossed around like a child's rag doll, his head slamming against the tailgate when the wagon tipped onto its side and began rolling down the hill.

The sounds of splintering wood, ripping canvas and the clanging of cookware filled the air as the old frame broke apart, leaving a trail of wood and scattered supplies in its wake, finally coming to rest half submerged in the creek with only a large boulder keeping the wagon from completely pinning him.

Vin wasn't certain how long he lay trapped in the wreckage before the icy water brought him shockingly and painfully back to his senses. Every part of his body was screaming in pain and he couldn't prevent a groan as he forced his eyes open, some part of his brain warning him his survival depended on escaping the watery wreckage.

Panic briefly overwhelmed him as he found himself surrounded by darkness before it finally soaked into his fuzzy mind, the canvas and remaining boards of the wagon bed were blocking what little sunlight had been able to break through the drizzling rain.

Finally forcing his emotions under control, Tanner struggled to assess the situation in which he now found himself.

The larger remains of the wagon bed surrounded him like a tiny cave, the shattered tail end of the vehicle buffeted by the swift current, was causing the wood around him to creak ominously.

Using his freed right arm, pushing aside the fear and fighting the panic that once again threatened to overwhelm him, Vin carefully untangled himself from the canvas and shoved aside the loose boards, hitching himself further to the left. Focusing his gaze on the shackle still binding his left wrist, he followed the length of chain until it disappeared beneath the murky water. He gave the chain a halfhearted jerk. His breath caught in his throat when the boards swayed and cracked above him, but to his astonishment, the chain gave way. The metal it had been fastened to had bent allowing the chain to slide several inches before catching on the jagged bend.

Wiggling about, he used his fingertips to worry the chain, forcing himself to ignore the ache caused by the freezing water as he worked the chain, sliding it another inch. He concentrated on freeing himself, trying not to think about the fact he couldn't feel his legs, hoping the numbness was only caused by the icy water.

Tanner fell backwards, the horn on the stranger's saddle digging into the small of his back when, after several finger freezing minutes, the chain suddenly pulled loose and he discovered himself free.

He took several deep breaths as the pain surging through him ebbed and finally eased, but his respite was short lived. Survival meant following the proper steps. Step 1 was getting him out of the water. Step 2 was finding shelter where he could get warm and tend his injuries. Unfortunately, at the moment, his legs were useless.

The boards above him groaned a warning as he tentatively pushed on them. Taking a deep breath, he pushed as hard as his waning strength would allow, turning his head away as the loose end of the chain, still attached to his wrist, swung about, striking the already bruised skin near his eye.

The wood screeched and grated as the old boards already battered by the current, gave way. Propelled by his thrust, several pieces splashed into the water to be washed downstream, while the others rained down on top of him. Protecting his head with his arms, he hissed in pain as his battered and bruised body suffered further abuse.

Heaving the pieces aside, he pulled himself through the hole he'd created and, using only his arms, dragged his beat up body further up the bank away from the water and wreckage.

Wearily collapsing, his cheek resting on a tussock of grass, Vin attempted to curl into a ball in an effort to get warm. He needed to find or make a shelter. Maybe he'd just rest... just for a minute.

He had no more than closed his eyes when they flew open again. "Charlotte!"

*******

Chris frowned as they continued to follow the wagon tracks. The muddy trace had turned and was now running parallel to a small swiftly running stream. It was plain Charlotte hadn't spared the animals. The deep ruts displayed the evidence that more than once, the wagon had dangerously slipped and slid in the slick mud. He would hazard a guess the bitch wasn't more than an hour ahead of them.

"Not only will Miss Watson never be able to get my clothes clean, but it's going to take a week to scrap the mud off my boots," Ezra muttered as the men once again dismounted and led their horses, not wanting to risk a fall on the slippery slope. "Chaucer, my dear friend, could you possibly not splash this muck in all directions with every step? Of course one would think a slicker would provide some amount of protection but considering---"

"Shut the hell up, Standish!" Chris growled. It seemed the southerner had done nothing but run his mouth since leaving the barn. "Don't know why the hell I even bothered ta drag ya along."

"Why, for stress relief, of course," the gambler responded glibly.

Buck chuckled at the con man's reply, understanding the reason for Ezra's sudden chattiness.

They continued to push steadily onward, wanting to cover as much ground as possible, hoping to overtake Charlotte before the sun set.

It was less than an hour later when the three men rounded a sharp turn in the trace and Chris jerked back on his black's reins, his eyes locked on the strewn wagon wreckage at the water's edge. All color drained from his face.

"Aww hell," Buck waited, afraid to move forward. Terrified of what they would discover among the broken boards and torn canvas. He glanced at Ezra who sat staring in the opposite direction as if by refusing to acknowledge the wreckage, it couldn't destroy his world.

"Shit!" Larabee kneed the black towards the wreckage, letting the animal pick its own way across the muddy flat. He knew beyond a doubt that this was the very wagon they had been tracking. Was as certain as he was of his own name, this was the wagon which had been transporting his friend. Dismounting, he made his way down the muddy slope towards the remains of the wagon, afraid of what he might see under it….

Buck had dismounted and was beside the man in black as Chris took the final few steps and with held breath, looked over the splintered boards.

"Nobody…" Larabee blinked several times and looked up, shaking his head in confusion. "Where... where is he?"

Buck waded on out into the creek, a shiver racing through him as the cold water soaked through his boots. Hesitating for a moment, he pushed aside the last of the canvas. However, there was no body… Accepting Chris' hand to help keep his footing as he climbed back onto the bank, Wilmington's worried gaze swept the surrounding area. He didn't want to think the current had carried away his friend's body.

"Gentlemen." Ezra's softly called word captured their attention and both men looked to the gambler who still sat horseback nearby. He pointed to the ground a few yards away. "There seems to be some sort of path..."

The two men hurried to where he indicated and knelt to examine what appeared to be some sort of slithering mark in the mud.

Buck shook his head. "Hoss..." He didn't want to admit it, but it looked like something had been pulled through the mire.

Larabee's face took on bitter grimness. Was the bitch that desperate for the bounty? He stalked through the muck, following the path, refusing to think about what they would find at its end.

*******

"No! NO! NO!"

Larabee's screams of denial as he rushed forward startled Buck. Looking up, the womanizer's face paled at what Chris has seen. Two forms that could barely be distinguished as something more than bumps in the road lay in the middle of the trail.

Sloughing through the slippery mud, the black clad gunman fell to his knees, struggled back up and surged forward the remaining hundred yards.

Buck, mired in the muck, strove to keep up and was several yards behind his friend, watching as Chris finally – deliberately, this time -- fell to his knees beside the two motionless forms lying in the mud.

The person's head lay at an odd angle, their neck obviously broken and Larabee's shoulders sagged as his trembling fingers touched the cold body, finding no sign of life.

Closing his eyes, drawing in a deep breath and holding it, Larabee eased the muddy figure over … and let out the relieved breath when he realized it was Charlotte Richmond and not Tanner.

His green-eyed gaze jumped to the other figure and he scrambled through the muck the few feet separating them. Once again, he reached out a tentative hand, only this time, hope surged through him as he felt a slight hint of warmth in the body indicating life. Easing the mud encrusted person over, he made out the tracker's features, nearly obscured by the dirt. Pulling his friend closer, his trembling fingers felt for a pulse and found one, albeit shallow and thready in the shivering body.

Shaking his head in despair, he locked gazes with Buck who had dropped down beside him. "He's alive…" he choked out and saw relief flood his old friend's face.

Ezra, still with the horses, heard the two softly spoken words and quickly dismounted, grabbing his bedroll and canteen. Disregarding the mud he had continuously carped about earlier in the day, he dropped down beside Larabee, silently offering the items. 

Chris waved them aside, "Let's get him away from here," he growled and gathering the smaller man in his arms, he carefully made his way to higher ground, looking for any place that was not muddy.

Puzzled, Ezra stood staring at the road a moment longer, before taking up the reins and leading the horses after the others. He quickly caught up with his friends.

Finding a grassy spot sheltered by several trees, Larabee gently settled the unconscious tracker on the bedroll Ezra had hastily spread.

"We need ta get him outta those clothes." Buck suggested, kneeling on the other side of Tanner. "Need ta find out if he's hurt and how bad. Need a way ta get that wrist iron off 'im, too."

"Allow me."

They watched in amazement as, stooping beside the sharpshooter, Standish gently lifted the tracker's hand and using the tip of his pocket knife, quickly picked the lock, angrily tossing the manacle into the bushes.

Chris nodded. He knew Nate would probably have kicked his ass for moving Vin without checking his injuries first, but he had only wanted to get him free of the stinking clinging mud...and he wanted him as far from that bitch as possible.

Ezra quietly and efficiently built a fire, set up camp, and tended the horses, leaving Larabee and Wilmington to tend the injured sharpshooter.

Between them, they managed to remove the tracker's filth encrusted clothing, replacing them with the jeans and shirt Ezra had pulled from his and Chris' saddlebags. It looked as though Vin had wallowed in the mire, and Buck, looking over his shoulder, realized the young man had literally, on his belly, inched his way up the slope to find Charlotte. He shook his head, and glanced at Larabee. From the set of the other's man jaw, he knew Chris was aware of the same thing.

Washing away as much of the mud as they could, they checked Vin for injuries, cringing at his severely bruised ribs. They bandaged his bloody wrists and hand. Out of bandages, they ripped up a shirt to wrap the places where something had torn into his shoulder, deciding they could do nothing for his badly swollen right knee.

Wrapping Vin securely in the bedroll, Buck leaned back, nodding thanks as he accepted the coffee Ezra offered.

"Think he'll be okay?" Chris spoke quietly, his worried gaze locked on the injured man.

"Don't know, Hoss. Best get him warm first and then we need to get him to Nate." Wilmington glanced back down the hill, wondering exactly how they were going to do that. "Reckon we should do somethin' with her---"

"Let the damn wolves have the bitch," Larabee snarled bitterly. "I ain't wastin' my time on her."

Buck shifted his weight and his words were low, "Ya know there's nothin' I'd like better, Chris, but that boy," he nodded toward the blanket wrapped figure of their friend, "drug hisself all the way up there to her and from the looks of it, he was diggin' with his bare hands to try and bury her." He hesitated, "Ya wanna be the one ta tell him ya let the varmints have her?"

Chris remained silent.

"Mister Wilmington has a point," Ezra spoke up, as he poured another cup of coffee and handed it to Larabee. He realized Buck had answered what had been bewildering him about the scene below. He hadn't been able to puzzle out exactly what the trench was next to where Vin had lain, as it didn't seem to match the other ruts and tracks in the mud. "No matter what she did to him, Mister Tanner did love her..."

"Hell's fire, I don't give a damn what ya do with her!" Chris growled, turning away to go settle himself on the ground beside his friend.

Exchanging looks, Ezra nodded and the two men trudged back down the slope to where Charlotte's body lay. Having no shovel, they moved her near a stand of trees and resorted to covering her body with rocks to keep the wild animals from desecrating her body.

Out of respect for Vin, Buck removed his hat and Ezra spoke a few words over the new grave before they moved through the dusk to return to camp. They didn't have to ask about Vin's condition. Larabee's expression told them there had been no change.

Sipping his coffee, Wilmington settled back against the tree truck, pulling his coat tighter against the biting wind, watching as Ezra silently cleaned the dinner plates. Although none of them had any appetite for food, the southerner had prepared and insisted they eat a small meal, stating they needed to keep up their strength to help Vin.

His blue-eyed gaze turned to where Chris huddled next to Vin. With only their coats and slickers, it was going to be a long cold night for the three men having foregone their bedrolls in favor of keeping Tanner warm.

Standish had scrubbed Tanner's clothes and spread them to dry beside the small fire that blazed cheerily, popping and cracking in the darkness, as if oblivious to the men's palpable worry. Coffee bubbled a gurgling tune in the flame-blackened pot, jetting out puffs of steam in the cold air, as if it were a typical night camp.

However, the three men knew this was no typical night as they kept watch over their injured friend

"Shoulda known," Larabee muttered again. More than once Chris had cussed himself and the other two for leaving Nathan behind. "I shoulda known better. Where ever or whatever mess he gets into, Vin usually winds up needin' Nate. Shoulda made him come along."

"At the time, Mister Larabee, you had no way of-"

"Don't need none a yer shit, Standish!" Larabee glared at the gambler. "Shoulda left your worthless ass in town and brought Nate along. Helluva lotta good you'll do Vin...'less he wants ta play cards."

Buck knew the verbal abuse was brought on by Chris' overpowering worry for Tanner and, receiving a small nod from the gambler, knew Ezra understood that as well. Still, in the dim firelight the ladies' man recognized the undeniable hurt in the southerner's green eyes.

Wilmington had understood Ezra's sudden deluge of chatter that afternoon, complaining about the cold, the rain, the mud, and the ruination of his clothes. He'd rambled on nonstop about anything that came to his mind, knowing full well it would drive the gunslinger to distraction, giving him a release for his building fear and anger. Buck had appreciated the gambler's effort, but enough was enough. It was time someone took Larabee in hand. "Now, Chris, don't go takin' pot shots at Ezra. Ain't none a this his fault."

Chris gave his oldest friend a fierce glare, growling as he angrily pitched the dregs from his coffee cup before refilling it. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, Buck?"

The big man smiled. "Ya know me better than that, Hoss. I'm that annoyin' little voice of conscience ya sometimes ferget ya got. Someone's gotta remind ya yer human and ya make mistakes."

Larabee rounded on the seemingly always-jovial ladies man. "Screw you, Buck!"

Buck smiled, "Ain't been on the trail long enough to be that desperate yet, Pard."

"If you gentleman will excuse me, nature calls." Ezra pushed to his feet and disappeared into the dark.

Buck still grinned as the shootist returned to Vin's side, realizing he had drawn Larabee's anger from the gambler to himself, just as intended. He had experienced the Hoosier's black moods too many times not to know how to cope with them.

Waiting until Ezra was out of sight, Wilmington struck quick as a rattler. Snagging the front of Larabee's coat, he pulled the man close, keeping his voice low. "Listen up, Chris. I know you're talkin' out yer ass 'cause yer worried about that boy... Hell, we all are... But lay off Ezra or so help me God, Chris, I'll knock ya inta next week."

Larabee fell backwards as Buck shoved him away. A sneer came to his face, his eyes flashing in the light of the campfire. "I can tell how worried that bastard is. He's done nothin', but bitch since we headed out."

"He cares about Vin just as much as you do... even though he ain't one to say so. Look around ya, Chris! We's able ta take care a Vin so quick 'cause Ezra did everything else, so just back off!"

*******

The night was growing blacker as the three men grabbed for their guns when their picketed horses whickered, and nervously began pawing the ground and tossing their heads.

Ezra slipped back into the darkness, disappearing into the brush as Chris and Buck took up positions, all too ready to protect the sharpshooter from further harm.

Keeping their weapons ready, the two men relaxed slightly when a short time later, Standish called out a warning of his return. Leading two gray horses, their harness still in place, the southerner crossed to the picket line.

"Looks like yer gonna make ol' Hiram a happy man," Buck joked. "Hell, Ez, he might even give ya a reward."

"Chickens and eggs, no doubt." Ezra muttered as he hitched the team next to their own saddle mounts, taking time to remove the harness and wipe down the animals before returning to the fire. It wasn't a reward the gambler was thinking about when he glanced from the horses to Tanner.

Adding more wood to the fire in hopes of keeping the cold at bay, the men settled in for the night, each lost in their own thoughts as they attempted to sleep.

Appearing to have finally exhausted his rage, Chris had stretched out beside his injured friend, while Wilmington leaned against a tree, emitting light snores, his jacket pulled close about him, his chin tucked to his chest.

Ezra sat opposite Chris on the other side of Vin, wide awake, the Hoosier's earlier remarks still ringing in his ears…'great lot of good you'll do Vin…'. Larabee was right. There was little he could do and he wished it had been Nathan who accompanied the other two, probably even more than Chris did.

Needing to do something, Ezra dug his comb from his saddlebags, patiently working at gently removing the dried mud caked in the tracker's long locks.

"You have my sincerest condolences, Vin. Even with her betrayal of your trust I know Miz Charlotte's death will deeply affect you." His voice was soft and full of regret as the gambler absently spoke to the unhearing man. "I do, however, owe you an apology. Thinking back upon your reaction to my teasing that day on the trail, I realize I should have known how deeply you cared for Miz Richmond. I hope you know that, despite our actions to the contrary of late, we all truly understand your need to follow your heart." He glanced toward the man in the poncho, but didn't see the fire light glittering in Larabee's slitted hazel eyes. "Or, at least, we should have.... Moreover, I hope you realize that any doubt concerning the recent allegations regarding Mister Richmond's murder, was nothing more than a moment of insanity. I know...we all know you would never commit cold-blooded murder. We should have been there for you. As your friends we really should have..." He suddenly trailed off, his eyes growing wide as his fingers frantically moved through the brown locks. His hand trembling, he gently lifted Vin's eyelids, his heart dropping at the sight of the unconscious man's uneven pupils.

Scrambling to his knees, he gripped the tracker's uninjured shoulder, vigorously shaking the sharpshooter. "Mister Tanner! Vin!" Receiving no response, Standish lightly slapped the Texan's scruffy cheeks, calling his name again.

"Get the hell away from him!"

Ezra rolled; avoiding the fire as Larabee lunged, roughly shoving him backwards. The gambler quickly crawled back to the tracker's side.

"What the hell do ya think you're doin'?" Chris bellowed angrily.

Ignoring his smoldering jacket sleeve, Ezra reached out to shake the sharpshooter again, anger filling his emerald eyes as Chris caught his wrist in a bone-cracking grip.

"Leave 'im the hell alone, ya stupid bastard! He won't heal without rest!"

"He won't heal if he doesn't wake up!" Standish shot back testily, pulling free of the other man's grasp. "There's a rather large lump on Mister Tanner's head. If I remember correctly one of Mister Jackson's many lectures is that a person with a head injury shouldn't be allowed to sleep too deeply."

"He's right, Hoss," Buck interjected before Chris could respond. He'd come instantly awake upon hearing Ezra calling Vin's name but hadn't been quick enough to intervene between the gunslinger and gambler.

Ezra sat back on his heels, letting the ladies man handle the situation as reaching out, the womanizer shook Tanner's shoulder. "Vin? Hey, Pard, ya wanna wake up fer us? C'mon, wake up and let us know yer okay."

It took several moments of Wilmington gently shaking Tanner, calling his name, before there was any kind of reaction from the tracker. Each man held his breath as in the firelight's glow, they saw Tanner's eyelashes flutter, and then slowly lift.

Pain glazed blue eyes tried to focus and a strange look crossed the Texan's face. With an inarticulate growl, looking for all the world as if he wanted to kill Wilmington, Vin surged upwards.

Shocked, Buck fell backwards narrowly avoiding Tanner's fist as the tracker swung at him. Crying out in agony, the Texan fell onto his side, convulsing with dry heaves as his empty stomach reacted to the head injury.

Without thinking, quickly moving behind the younger man, Wilmington wrapped his arms around the sharpshooter, tightening his hold as Vin began to struggle, kicking out in an attempt to keep them away.

"That's okay, Pard…I got ya...Ain't nobody gonna hurt ya… I got ya," Buck attempted to soothe the injured man, his own heart aching at the tears of pain welling down the younger man's pale face.

Larabee moved in and gently cupped Tanner's face in his calloused hands. "Vin, listen to me! It's Chris... Listen to me, Vin... It's over and you're gonna be fine...Ya hear me, Tanner?...Calm down...nobody here wants to hurt you."

No one was certain if it was Chris' words or if Tanner was just too tired to continue struggling, but he slowly began to calm, the fight draining away.

"C-Chris?..."

"Yeah, Pard....we're here. Just try and take it easy." Chris held his canteen to the ex-bounty hunter's lips, pulling it away after a few sips.

"H-hurts…." Tanner managed to force the one word out through his clenched teeth, as he tried to ride out the pain.

"Where? Where does it hurt?" Ezra questioned as he moved closer, cautiously watching Larabee.

"A-all o-o-over…" the tracker slurred out, rocking against Buck in an attempt to allay the pain. "E-ever' w-where.."

"Where does it hurt the worse, Vin?" Ezra persisted, ignoring the gunslinger's hiss of disgust. The gambler knew if Nathan were there, he would be asking these questions

. "'y h-head…. L-legs…. Ss-shoulder h-hurt-ss…"

Buck exchanged looks with the southerner. Those were the three worse places on the Texan's body. They really needed Nathan.

"H-hard...ta...ta...br-breath."

Buck shifted positions, settling the tracker back against his chest.

"Here, see if he can take some of this," the gambler held out his almost empty silver flask. "Just a swallow or two. Hopefully it will help ease the pain."

With Buck holding the container, Vin managed to swallow some of the alcohol, shuddering as the amber liquid hit the pit of his empty stomach. They were gratified to see the tremors begin to slow as the alcohol worked into his system. Buck nodded his thanks as he passed the flask back to Ezra.

Gently rocking, as if the sharpshooter were a small child with troubled dreams, Buck continued to hold the tracker as Vin sagged against him, drifting back to sleep after several minutes.

"The alcohol will alleviate the pain, but only momentarily," Ezra explained his voice low in deference to the sleeping man. "We need something more…."

"Well, we ain't got nothing," Chris growled bitterly. 'Damnit! Why hadn't he made Nathan come along?' He knew Nathan was needed in town. He knew if there was anything seriously wrong with the Hester baby, Jackson was the child's best hope of recovering, but, damnit all, Vin was important, too!

When the seven men had agreed to protect Four Corners, the healer had insisted they all carry a small package of emergency medical supplies. Unfortunately, it only consisted of bandages, a little bottle of carbolic acid, and burn salve. Anxious to be on the road, Larabee hadn't taken time to wait for the healer to prepare anything more for them to bring along.

Larabee was disgusted with himself. It wasn't like him to go off half cocked. He was still alive because he believed in being prepared for a situation, yet lately, he'd been doing a lot of things that wasn't like him.

Because of that, they were stuck miles from nowhere with an injured man and no way to get him home.

Because of him.

He wanted to blame someone else. He wanted to blame Charlotte or Vin or even Ezra, but the truth was there was no one to blame except himself.

If he had talked to Vin...tried to repair the damage to their friendship...If he had explained his decision to take Buck to Ruby City...If he had only assured Vin he still trusted him, knew he could count on him...If...If...If....

Clenching his teeth, Buck said nothing as Larabee shook his head in disgust when Standish pushed to his feet and, without a word moved, purposefully in the direction of the stream, quickly swallowed by the blackness outside the circle of the fire.

A short time later, both men looked up when Ezra returned, a small bundle of twigs in his arms. They watched as, dropping them beside the fire, the gambler quickly emptied the coffee pot and refilled it with water from his canteen. Stripping away the leaves, the southerner used Wilmington's knife to peel away the bark, adding it to the water.

Buck suddenly smiled as the southerner placed the pot on the fire and sat staring at the flames, waiting for the liquid to boil. "Willow bark…"

The southerner nodded. "I seem to recall Mister Jackson totes its merits as a pain alleviator and keeps a ready supply on hand."

Wilmington nodded. "Seen them use it in the war when drugs weren't available. Seemed to work pretty good…"

"I am hoping it will work for Mister Tanner. At least until we can get him to medical assistance."

"And how do ya propose we do that?" Chris cut in. "He sure as hell ain't gonna be able to sit a horse even if he rode double with one a us and a travois is gonna bump him around like he was bustin' a bronc, if it don't get bogged down in the mud.

"If there is a will, Mister Larabee, there is a way."

"Oh, cut the bull shittin clichés, Standish!" It pissed the gunman he hadn't thought of willow bark for Vin's pain. In addition, guilt eating away at his insides, it rubbed him the wrong way perhaps he had been in error in his remarks about having Standish along.

Ezra gave him a solemn stare. "We will get Mister Tanner out of here," he started firmly. Glancing back at his injured friend still held securely in Wilmington's grasp, he added softly, "We have to."

*******

The gray of false dawn was glowing in the eastern sky when Chris opened his eyes. Some alien noise had disturbed his sleep and he quickly focused on the Texan still loosely clasped in Buck's arms. Both men slept, Tanner, thanks to the Willow Bark tea and Wilmington out of sheer exhaustion. Fearful of the concussion, twice during the night, they'd wakened Vin, only to have him fight their attention.

There! He heard it again!

Climbing to his feet, he pushed aside the poncho and hand resting on his pistol grip, Chris cautiously moved in the direction of the sound.

Moving cat like through the bushes, Larabee stopped, staring in stunned confusion as he reached the stream. Standish was hard at work...something Larabee never thought to witness beyond the green felt topped gaming tables of the saloon.

'Damn! He hadn't even noticed Ezra wasn't in camp!'

The gambler's clothes were filthy, the lower half of his pants damp. Concentrating on the job at hand, Ezra absently wiped at the sweat dripping in his eyes with a sleeve, leaving another streak of mud on his face. Seeing the gambler's boots sitting neatly on top of a small boulder, the gunslinger bit back a smile, realizing the persnickety con man was sloshing around in the muck and mire in his stocking feet.

"Need some help?"

At Chris' soft question, the startled gambler dropped the piece of wood, his hand streaking towards the gun on his hip as he spun to face the shootist. His eyes widened, his hand dropped away and a flush reddened his dirty face as he recognized the speaker.

"I-I-I…" he stammered before pulling himself together, going on the defensive. "Sneaking up on a person is an excellent way to end up in an early grave, Mister Larabee."

Larabee stepped from the shadows, moving closer. The gambler had managed to wrest wagon parts from the water and was attempting to cobble together a crude conveyance. "Thought you didn't perform menial labor, Ezra."

"There is a difference, Mister Larabee, between manual and menial labor." The southerner turned back to the job at hand. "Menial labor is labor that is beneath a gentleman and something I would never considering indulging in. However, helping a friend or doing what is necessary to survive could never be considered menial."

Larabee nodded, his eyes raking over the wagon--if that's what it could be called-- the con man had fashioned together. It seemed to be more of a travois on wheels.

"It's not very sturdy…" Ezra offered almost apologetically, wearily retrieving the board he'd dropped. Using the ropes swiped from the other men's saddles, he'd lashed together any wood the current hadn't carried downstream. "The wheels and axles were undamaged… and I fashioned a trace support, although I'm uncertain how well it will work. You might know more about such things than I."

Checking over the rigging, reworking some of the knots, the gunslinger couldn't help but wonder if Ezra had slept at all.

"Hiram's team still has their harness and I left enough rope for one of you to lead them." Ezra stated, tugging on the rope to be certain it was going to hold.

The remark was not lost on Larabee. "Why not you?" he countered.

"I imagine you and Mister Wilmington can transport Mister Tanner. I shall ride ahead and have Mister Jackson meet up with you…" He trailed off at Chris' expression. "Perhaps I assume too much," he muttered lowly.

"Look, Ezra you don't have to do this to make up for my stupid remark the other night," Larabee offered a half-assed apology.

Ezra shook his head. "I am not, sir. I assure you, I paid no heed to any remarks you might have made as more stupid things than that have come out of your mouth at one time or another." He grinned when Larabee's cheeks flushed red. "Rest assured, I am doing it strictly for Mister Tanner."

"Why?" Chris quizzed low voiced, immediately wishing he could take back such a stupid question. He knew Buck was right and that Ezra considered Vin a good friend. Even if he hadn’t, Standish wasn’t one to leave an injured person to die without trying to help.

Standish ducked his head and Larabee thought he wasn't going to respond, then very softly, the southerner uttered, "Because conceivably he would be willing to do the same for me if need be."

The gunman did not miss the hopeful pang in the other man's sincere words. "I'm sure he would, Ezra," he admitted quietly.

The gambler stared up at the gunman's face, discovering only honesty before nodding, accepting Chris' remark. Turning back to the make shift wagon, the southerner glanced back at Larabee.

"Perhaps we should see if this conveyance will roll."

Taking his hint, Larabee moved behind the device and on the count of three he and Ezra gave it a hard shove. To their surprise, the wheels moved easily, not weighed down in the mud by the wagon's heavy body. The Hoosier let out an unexpected murmur and Ezra's hopeful expression fell.

"No it's fine Ezra." Chris shook his head, "Ya did a good job. Just surprised me it was so light to move is all."

The guarded expression stayed on Standish's face as he stepped back, wiping his muddy hands on his now unrecognizable fancy linen handkerchief. "Then I guess it's finished. How soon will you and Mister Wilmington be leaving?"

Chris glanced at the sky, already aglow with the rising sun. "Soon as we get coffee and loaded up. The sooner the better."

Ezra nodded, picking up his boots and starting back toward their small camp. "I'll ready the horses if you wish to awaken Mister Wilmington."

"Hey, Ezra?"

Chris' soft call gave him pause and he turned back.

"I meant what I said. Not just Vin, but any of us would…"

Nodding, the gambler moved on, tucking away that warm thought in the special little corner of his heart that he had come to recognize and had labeled as friendship.

Ezra poured the last of the tea into his silver flask, passing the container to Larabee for the trip down the mountain and started a pot of coffee. Once again, Vin awoke struggling and fighting their attempts to help him, anger mixing with the pain in his blue eyes.

It had taken both Chris and Buck to get the sharpshooter to drink the entire cup of tea, hoping the medicinal brew would have some effect before his stomach rejected it.

Waiting until Vin returned to the pain free blissfulness of sleep, they gently transferred the injured tracker to the 'contraption' as Buck smilingly referred to it.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" Chris protested when Ezra ripped his lush purple jacket into strips, using them to bind the sharpshooter's wrists and ankles to the boards.

"I know how Vin feels about any form of confinement, Mister Larabee, and I will profusely apologize to him, but we have no other way of insuring he stays on the...'contraption'."

"I'm gonna be right here beside him," Chris protested, knowing Vin would fight like a wildcat if he came to and found himself confined.

"Ya know how quick that boy is, Chris. He'd be off there and hurt again before you could dismount. Ezra's right… it's better this way."

"Believe me, it's for Mister Tanner's own protection," Ezra pointed out as he swung up on his mount and adjusted his reins, before taking the reins of the blazed faced horse from Wilmington.

Chris grudgingly admitted he was right and mounted up, taking a place beside the 'wagon's' right wheel. He turned to Standish. "We'll be down as quickly as we can…"

"Understood," Ezra nodded. "I'll try and have Mister Jackson waiting at that old gentleman's farm, but I fear he will not. You have my assurances though, he will be there as soon as humanly possible." Sadness filled his emerald eyes as he gave a long look at his injured friend, then reined his horse ahead of them.

Buck, leading the team of grays, called out, "You be careful, Ezra!"

"You, too, Mister Wilmington!" So saying, he urged his horse on down the hill and out of their sight.

*******

It was late afternoon when Ezra vaulted from the saddle and hurried to the well to fill his canteen as the old man came from the house with his shotgun in hand.

Praying he didn't injure the animals, the southerner had pressed on through the day, stopping only long enough to let the horses blow and drink a small amount of water. He had fought the desire to race Chaucer full out, instead keeping up a steady pace and giving the animal his head in the more dangerous parts of the trail.

As the rancher came closer, he lowered the weapon, recognizing the gambler. "It's you, is it? Damn boy, ya look like death warmed over." He glanced about. "Where be your friends?"

"Somewhere behind me. We found our missing comrade and I rode ahead so as to contact another friend of ours who has medical skills."

The rancher frowned at the long-winded explanation. "Your other friend hurt, is he?"

Ezra nodded.

"Where's this doctoring friend of yourn at?" he quizzed.

"Four Corners," Ezra admitted.

The old man whistled under his breath. "That's a long ride."

Ezra nodded again as he corked his canteen. "Too long, I fear. Our conpanion is in a bad way."

Pulling the horses away from the water, not needing the animals to founder themselves, he quickly stripped the saddle from Chaucer, cinching it into place on the back of the bay. "My friends hope to stop here and I'd like to leave my horse. I would be happy to pay you for use of your corral."

"That'll be fine and there ain't no need to pay."

"Behave, Chaucer," Standish commanded when the horse tossed his head backing away as the old man reached for the gelding's reins.

"I'll turn this fella out and then I'll get water on and see what medical supplies I got on hand, but I know it ain't much."

"Appreciate that," Swinging into the saddle, Ezra lifted rein to urge the horse on, pausing when the old man called out.

"Hey! I just remembered there's supposed to be a doc in LizzyTown."

Ezra spun the horse around, "Where?"

"Elizabethtown. It's about twenty, thirty miles that way," he waved a hand off to the north.

"A doctor? Are you sure?" the gambler pressed.

"Yep, they was all talking 'bout him marryin' some local gal and opening his practice last time I was there."

"When was that?" From the man's ragged appearance, Ezra envisioned it had been years, perhaps decades, since the man had seen civilization.

The farmer scratched his head. "Let me see… it was near on two month ago."

The southerner chewed his lip. Two months. Sixty days. The doctor could have moved on… and he would be wasting his time and still no closer to having medical care for Vin. Still, it was a longer ride to Four Corners….

"That gal's pappy was a big rancher in the area, so I reckon they're still there," the old man seemed to read his mind. "'Sides, there's a telly-graph there. Ya could wire your friend, save you the ride and some time."

That extra bit of information made up Ezra's mind. "That I can. I'd best be going then." He touched his hat brim. "Take good care of my friends when they arrive," he called out as he spurred the bay from the yard, mentally repeating the man's hastily given directions.

*******

Darkness had settled hours earlier when the makeshift conveyance rolled to a stop in front of the old man's cabin

True to his word to Ezra, the old man had made up a clean bed for Vin and pointed it out to Buck as that person carefully carried the unconscious man inside, Chris on his heels. Lowering the Texan to the bed, Buck set about making his friend comfortable as Larabee dropped their gear on the room floor and draped his poncho over a nearby chair.

"Your friend said you was coming. Got stew and hot coffee on the stove," the rancher pointed out when the lawman looked his way. "Ain't got much in the way of doctorin' supplies, but what I got's on the shelf there. I'll tend your critters for you." Snagging his jacket from a hook by the door, he hurried outside.

"Appreciate it." Chris wearily turned back to where Buck had tucked a worn warm quilt over the longhaired Texan. "We oughta change them bandages. Reckon it'll be awhile before Ezra gets back here with Nate. Vin doing any better?"

Sinking into a chair, Buck's broad shoulders visibly sagged as he removed his hat and raked his hand thru his hair. "Hell, Hoss, I don't know. I ain't no doctor." He gazed down at the young man in the bed. "Just know it ain't like Vin… All the times he has been hurt and Nate's worked on him, he was never violent. Oh, he didn't like being poked and prodded and forced ta drink them piss water teas, but… "

Chris nodded. He had been thinking the same things. The trip down the mountain had taken longer than even he anticipated as they found themselves not only fighting to keep the litter from floundering in the mud, but fighting Tanner himself. Each time they had stopped the two men had taken time to check the ropes holding the vehicle together.

The times the Texan had regained consciousness, he had struggled to free himself from the ties holding him to the wagon, fighting anyone who attempted to calm him before he eventually sank back into unconsciousness.

No, it wasn't like Vin Tanner at all…

***************

The sweat encrusted horse slowly made its way down the dusty main street of Elizabeth town. Music and light spilled over the batwing doors of the two saloons and several customers exited the restaurant, bidding the proprietor a good night. Lamps burned in windows, but very few people were out and about at this time of the night.

It had taken twice as long as Ezra anticipated reaching the small town, not having considered the obstacles that hampered his travels. More than once, he'd had to search out alternate routes where the rain storm had washed away the trail and find a safe crossing at high streams. The animal proved to be a good trail horse, cautiously picking his way through the hills, avoiding objects in the dark that would cause him to stumble.

The rider's sharp green-eyed gaze searched the avenue for a doctor's shingle and seeing none, his hopeful expression fell, and his shoulders sagged. He should have known the old rancher was talking through his hat….

Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he made his way to the building displaying the 'telegraph office' sign. At least the old man had been right about that and he could send for Nathan and perhaps purchase more medical supplies from the general store.

Dismounting, he hitched the horse and paused a moment to knock the dust from his clothes. Realizing it was a useless gesture, he loudly pounded on the door of the dark office hoping like the Four Corners' telegraph operator, this man resided in a back room of the building.

A light appeared and a bell jingled as the door was opened to reveal a narrow faced man with wire rimmed spectacles perched on his nose.. "Can I help ya, stranger?"

"Need to send a telegram."

"A little late, ain't it?"

"I wouldn't disturb you, sir, if it wasn't urgent." Standish pushed his way on into the office.

"Sure enough." Grabbing a paper and pencil, the man looked at him expectedly, pencil poised attempting not to show fear of the filth-covered man who most likely was on the run from the law.

"To Nathan Jackson, in care of Sheriff's Office, Four Corners, Colorado."

The man's pencil paused on the word 'sheriff' then scribbled on. 'So he wasn't on the run.'

"Found…." Ezra hesitated, not wanting to use Tanner's name. "Found tracker. STOP. Bad way. STOP. Need assistance. STOP. Can be found at…." The gambler paused. He hadn't even bothered to ask the old rancher his name. He cleared his throat. "What is the name of Hiram's neighbor? Older gentleman, always seems ready with a shotgun?"

The telegrapher laughed. "You mean ol' Luke Bailey. He's a real character, ain't he? Been around these parts damn near as long as the Indians. You a friend a his?"

Ignoring the question, Standish continued. "Can be found at Luke Bailey's, south of LizzyTown. STOP. All haste. FULL STOP. Sign that E. P. Standish and please send it immediately."

The man finished with a flourish and nodded. "I'll get right on it." He glanced down at the message. "This fella ya found a wanted criminal?"

Ezra's face paled and his eyes flashed as he paused in the doorway. "No!"

"Iffen he's in a bad way, why don't ya just get Doc Carter to look at him?"

Ezra swung around. "Then there is a doctor in town?" he asked, not daring to hope the old man had actually been right.

The man nodded. "Sure enough. Go two blocks down, and one street over. Gray two story, picket fence. You can't miss it. He has his shingle hangin' by the front gate."

Making a quick decision, Ezra stopped at the livery. With special instructions to care for the exhausted animal who'd given his all in Standish's effort to aid Tanner, he changed his tack to a fresh rented animal before proceeding to find the doctor.

Jogging the horse the distance to the doctor's residence, he dismounted and hurried up the walkway once again attempting to brush the dirt from his clothes as he knocked.

It was several long minutes before the door opened and a young woman stood on the opposite side of the screen. "May I help you?"

"I'm searching for the doctor…."

"James!" She called over her shoulder before pushing open the screen. "Won't you come in?" As he stepped inside, she ushered him to a side room. "I hope you don't mind, I was just about to retire for the evening, but James'll be right with you."

"Thank you." Ezra tipped his dusty hat to her as she left in a swirl of petticoats and linen.

Waiting impatiently, his gaze moved around the room, taking in the medical degrees and military letters framed on the walls. It was plain this doctor had served in the war and been given several battlefield promotions. "Shame it was for the wrong side," Ezra muttered to himself.

It was at least five minutes, and Standish had exhausted all the framed reading material before the doctor finally entered. Wiping his hands on a towel, he smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry you had to wait. I was in the middle of preparing some medication to help Mrs. Appleton's rheumatism. What can I do for you?" Taking in the gambler's disheveled appearance, he moved toward a cabinet containing his supplies. "I'm assuming you're in need of medical attention."

"Yes, sir," Ezra nodded, and then shook his head. "I mean no, sir... It's not for me. A friend is injured and we have need of your services."

"Might I inquire as to the nature of those injuries?"

"He was in a wagon accident. It overturned and we have to assume he was trapped in freezing water for a time...I don't know how long exactly. He has damage to his legs and ribs and a head injury." The southerner responded quickly, naming the injuries Vin had remarked upon.

The doctor nodded. "When did this happen?"

"I'm not certain. I would think it was sometime early yesterday."

The doctor scowled. "And you are just now seeking my services?"

"We just found him." Ezra stated, growing more impatient by the second.

Carter arched his eyebrows, looking around the room. "'We?'"

"Two other friends and I. We are lawmen from Four Corners," he added, hoping it would pull some weight. "Believe me, we sought you out as soon as possible."

"And this man who was hurt. Is he a criminal you were chasing?"

All of Ezra's good will faded, with this aspersion cast yet again on Vin. "No," he snarled, "If it makes any difference, he's a peacekeeper and a good friend. More importantly he's hurt and needs your help."

"I'm sorry, Mister…. " Carter trailed off, realizing Ezra hadn't offered his name, "but under these circumstances, I'm afraid I would be able to offer very little assistance other than perhaps giving him something to ease his pain."

"Excuse me?" Standish stared at the man in confusion, certain his weariness was causing him to misunderstand. "You're a doctor and he needs your help!"

"You must understand that unless medical attention is prompt, especially when it comes to head injuries, it is usually useless. When those injuries are complicated by hypothermia, there's very little anyone can do." He reached for the doorknob to show the gambler out. "My best advise is to keep him as comfortable as possible and prepare for the inevitable."

"I always try to be prepared." His derringer appeared almost magically in Ezra's hand. "Acceptance is another matter altogether. I'm sorry, sir, but you will be going with me."

The doctor's face paled. "Now see here, this is uncalled for!"

"My friend is hurt and needs a doctor and you're the closest one. You can press charges against me later, for which I will gladly face any punishment deemed appropriate, but for now, you are going with me." He snagged the black medical bag from the desk. "You need to add anything to this?"

The doctor stared at him for several long moments and when the gambler gave no sign of relenting, he grabbed several items from the nearby cabinets and bundled them into the bag. "May I tell my wife where I'm going?" he asked icily.

"Leave her a note." Ezra waved a hand toward the desk. He stood aside as the man hastily scribbled a few lines. Glancing at them, he read, "Darling, going to check on an injured man. Be back as quickly as possible. Jim" Motioning the man outside in the hallway he glanced at the door. "Where is your horse?"

"The barn." The doctor pointed to the left as he grabbed his jacket from the hall tree.

"Let's get him saddled and be on our way, shall we?" His gun hidden from observation by the doctor's stocky body, Ezra followed him outside, gathering up his own horse's reins as he trailed the doctor to the barn.

In short order, with no interruptions from nosey neighbors or town folks, the two were on their way out of town. 

--------------------------------------

Ezra was extremely hard pressed not to just gag the doctor with the ruined cloth that had once been his imported silk handkerchief and be done with it. The man had done nothing but carp, complain and threaten legal retribution since they had ridden out of town. It suddenly dawned on the con man what his six companions must go through whenever he groused and bitched on their rides--but of course he usually had good reason-- and he silently vowed to do better. It was indeed a wonder Larabee hadn’t just shot him out of the saddle on numerous occasions.

Despite the doctor's protests they were most likely wasting their time, but understanding the gambler’s desire for expediency, the medical man advised the southerner of a short cut that slashed more than a few hours off the return trip and they arrived back at Luke’s as the sun was rising.

The door was thrown wide as they dismounted and Ezra hitched the horses to the porch rail as the doctor snagged his medical bag from his saddle. Buck loomed in the opening, his hand resting on his pistol. He relaxed when he recognized the con man, stepping aside to let the two men enter. "About gave up on you, Pard," he muttered as Ezra pushed past him.

"How is he?"

"Still breathin’," Wilmington assured the exhausted con man.

"Are you truly lawmen as this gentleman stated?" The doctor approached Larabee who was sitting at the table, staring morosely into his coffee cup.

Larabee looked the man up and down, but did not respond.

"Well, are you or not?" the man pressed.

"Yes, we are." It was Buck who responded to the impatient question.

"In that case, I want that man," the doctor pointed at Ezra, "arrested for abduction! He forced me from my home at gunpoint to come here."

"Did he now?" Buck questioned, moving closer and looming over the small doctor. "And why was that?" With arched eyebrows, he turned his gaze on the southerner.

"I explained the situation and asked for his assistance and he refused to come," Ezra answered quietly. "I knew our friend needed medical help as quickly as possible, therefore he left me no choice but to insist."

Buck nodded, stroking his moustache. "Guess it’s a good thing Ez went after you ‘stead of me. I’d have shot you in the leg and slung you over the saddle to get you here."

"Hell, I’d just have shot him," Chris spoke up for the first time, climbing to his feet with feline grace.

"Now, Doctor," he spat the word sarcastically, "I suggest you check on our friend in there and see what you can do for him or I just might end up shooting you anyway."

Stammering, clearly taken aback by the lawmen’s attitude, the doctor moved to the bedroom, Buck following and answering any further questions the man posed, explaining Vin's increasingly violent bouts of consciousness.

Chris turned to Ezra. "What he say true?"

The gambler nodded. "He stated he believed it would be a waste of time considering the circumstances. He said if he had been contacted earlier, He shook his head. He wasn’t going to accompany me, and I could not return without him."

"What about Nathan?" Larabee interjected.

"I sent a telegram. They should have received it and be on their way by now."

“Thought you were headed for Four Corners.” Chris poured the gambler a cup of coffee, lightly shoving him into a chair at the table.“So you rode to this town..."

"The old gentleman told me they had a doctor and a telegraph," the gambler quickly explained. "It seemed the most reasonable thing to do. Even if they didn’t have a doctor, by sending a wire, Nathan could have covered a good distance in the time it would have..."

"I ain’t faulting you, Ez," the gunslinger interrupted, suddenly comprehending the effect his words and actions the past few days had on the cardsharp. "Ya done right."

"I...." Ezra hesitated, looking away from Larabee's hard gaze. "I just hope he can be of help," he murmured quietly. He glanced around the small cabin. "Excuse me, but where is Mr. Bailey?"

"Who?"

"The owner of this habitat."

" He’s stayin’ out in the old bunkhouse behind the barn. Said he don’t reckon Vin should be moved any more if possible. Told us ta make ourselves at home."

They fell silent and a few moments later Ezra’s eyes drifted closed as his body refused to fight his exhaustion any longer.

Larabee quickly moved the mug aside as the gambler’s body sagged forward, his head pillowing on his crossed arms. The gunslinger realized how lucky they were Ezra had accompanied them and just how much the con man had done to help the injured tracker...to help his friend.

With that admission was also the realization of just how unfairly he had been treating the southerner. Chris knew he had never truly confronted the ex-bounty hunter with the anger-the betrayal-he’d felt since that whole debacle while escorting the wagon train. As usual, he had lashed out, using the con man as a target for most of that anger.

Larabee also had to admit it angered him he couldn't understand the enigmatic con man. He knew it wasn’t always possible, but he liked things simple...right or wrong...black or white...someone looking to kill him or someone who feared him...someone honest or dishonest. He didn’t like puzzles. Puzzles frustrated him. That’s why he’d been drawn to the bounty hunter and the others. They were exactly what they appeared to be: forthright men with problems of their own and things in their pasts they weren’t proud of, but who stood up for what they believed...except Ezra.

Ezra was a puzzle.

Standish presented himself to the world as a man who cared only for himself and the money he could make off of those who happened to occupy the world with him. He didn’t deny accusations of being a self-serving, cheating gambler and con man… Actually he did deny cheating, when it came to poker. He was a professional gambler and extremely competent at his trade.

A small smile touched the gunslinger’s lips and he shook his head as all the pieces suddenly seemed to fall into place, offering a nearly unbelievable solution to the Standish puzzle. Perhaps, odd as it seemed, Ezra was the most honest of them all.

Anyone sitting down to his table had only to look at his clothes to know Ezra was a gambler and more than once he’d told them of the money he’d made with one con or another, making no attempt to deny what he was.

They all had dark secrets they hid from the world behind private walls, but it dawned on Chris the only thing Ezra seemed to hide was his good heart, the true friendship he felt for his companions and his desire to belong.

*******

Ezra jerked awake when Larabee leapt to his feet as, followed by Buck, the doctor finally re-entered the main room of the small house.

"Well?" Chris' gaze pinned the man.

"In many ways your friend is very lucky. There doesn’t seem to be any broken bones, although he most likely has several cracked ribs and the deep bruising will keep him uncomfortable for quite a while..." He explained how, with Wilmington’s help, he had cleaned and re-bandaged Tanner’s many scraps and cuts, bound his ribs, elevated his leg and immobilized his knee and shoulder. The doctor cleared his throat. "...It also appears that, thanks to your quick intervention, there probably won’t be any lasting effects of the hypothermia. However, your friend has suffered a severe head trauma and from the reactions described by these gentlemen, He nodded towards Buck and Ezra, considering the delay in medical attention I don’t think---"

Chris took two long strides and loomed over the man. "I don't give a damn what you think! I wanna know what you are gonna do to help Vin!"

The doctor backed up several steps, only to bump into Buck's solid form behind him. His wide-eyed gaze jumped to Ezra; as if suddenly aware, his kidnapper was the lesser threat. He cleared his throat again. "Sir, I can only tell you what I see and what I suspect. As I stated, your friend suffered a severe head trauma---"

He’s had a concussion before, Larabee argued. We know the symptoms…nausea, headaches, different size pupils, confusion... But he’s never come to---"

"This is more than a concussion, sir! A hard bump to the head during the wagon wreak would have caused the concussion, but the other head wound---"

"What other head wound?" Chris demanded.

"It appears he was struck with something heavy here..." Tilting his own head forward, the doctor pointed to a spot on the back of his skull. "That in itself would have caused a concussion which is a bruising and slight swelling of the brain, but it appears a small section of his skull has collapsed inward, probably caused during the wagon wreck and the bone is creating pressure against the swelling. That pressure is the reason for his violent reactions."

"So what are ya gonna do about it?" The threat was clear: the man was a doctor and Larabee expected him to do everything possible to help Tanner.

Preparing himself for their reactions, the doctor took a deep breath, drawing on all of his courage and the knowledge these were lawmen and hopefully would keep control of their emotions. "At the moment…nothing. The normal treatment would be to trepan the area---"

"Tree what?"

"Trepanning is using a small saw to make a hole in his skull in order to relieve the pressure---"

"Ya ain't putting no holes in Vin's head!" Chris bellowed.

Buck grabbed his friend's arm. "Whoa, back off, Hoss . I've seen it done."

"As have I," Ezra added. "During the war."

The doctor nodded. "It was standard procedure and helped many a soldier. However, at this time, I do not think such a drastic measure is required."

"Ya just said---"

"Your friend is young and strong and there is every indication the wound will heal on its own. As I explained such a wound normally causes swelling and bruising. Once the patient has had time for those to recede, he should return to normal."

"How long?"

"That’s hard to say. It could be several weeks, a month..or the damage could be permanent, in which case trepanning wouldn’t help at all. We’ll have a better idea in a few days."

"Yer sayin' just let him be and he’ll be fine?"

"Well, his other injuries have to heal as well, but as I said, he’s young and seems to be in very good physical condition. Those are pluses and help in the healing process."

"So yer sayin' ya ain't gonna do nothin' for him?" Larabee persisted, his anger building.

"I’ve done all that’s immediately needed. I can operate if that is what you want, but I do believe it isn't necessary and why risk further harm to him? I can give you several drugs to help control his pain and agitation." He nervously looked from Buck to Larabee and back. "If I had been contacted earlier-"

"Hell, we got him here as soon as we found him! Buck growled. Short of ya bein’ with us when we did find him..." He trailed off. Wishful thinking and what ifs were futile trails.

The doctor was digging in his medical bag and pulling out vials. Turning away from the peacekeepers, he began muttering to himself as he measured out dosages. He cast a look over his shoulder. "Do any of you have any medical knowledge at all?"

"Like what?" Chris snarled.

Ezra stepped up beside the doctor. "I know a little." he offered, knowing all he had to do was remember and pass the orders on to Nathan when he arrived. "And we have a friend on the way who cares for the medical needs of Four Corners’ residents."

Turning back, pointing out the medicines, the doctor quickly explained their uses as he jotted down the dosages and other things that needed done. "...And keep him warm and quiet," he concluded, handing the packets of powders and directions to Ezra.

"Guess yer done here," Chris growled, motioning towards the door, frustrated that other than operate, this man could do little more than they had already done.

The doctor hesitated. "If you need me, this... gentleman," he nodded towards Ezra, "knows where to find me. Gathering his equipment, he pulled on his coat and reached for the door.

"Excuse me, sir, but perhaps we could provide some sort of bed where you can rest before beginning the long ride back to town, Ezra offered, understanding the doctor had to be nearly as tired as they were."

"Thanks, but my father-in-law’s ranch is only a couple hours ride from here. I’ll get some sleep there. One of his ranch hands will ride on and let my wife know and I’ll be back tomorrow to check on your friend."

"Wait!" Larabee’s sharp word gave him pause and the doctor swung around nervously, unsure if these men intended to let him leave in safety. "Appreciate your help..." Chris dug in his pocket, suddenly aware what little money he had with him was in his saddlebags.

Realizing the problem, Standish withdrew his wallet, peeled out several green backs and pressed them into the doctor’s hand. "As soon as our friend arrives from Four Corners, I will return to your fair town to discuss the legal ramifications of my actions as promised."

"That won’t be necessary. I shouldn’t have assumed he couldn’t be helped." The man shook his head, looking embarrassed. Then seeing the denominations, the doctor’s eyes widened and he stammered, "Th-thank you! But this is much more than necessary!"

"Consider it compensation for the inconvenience and any further visits Vin may require."

"Thank you very much!"

Ezra grimaced and hustled him outside on the pretense of helping him saddle his horse.

Chris shook his head as the gambler closed the door behind himself and the doctor. "Ya see how much he gave that..that..ol’ quack?" he questioned.

Buck shook his head. "Can’t rightly say he’s a quack, Ol’ Dog." Wilmington sighed wearily. "Man seemed ta know what he’s doin’."

"He’s talkin’ about cutting holes in Vin’s head!"

"He’s talkin’ about operatin’ if necessary in order ta save Vin’s life," Buck corrected.

"I know." Larabee sank back into the chair refilling their cups. He stared at the door. "I swear that one bill was a twenty..." Chris shook his head again. The gambler was indeed an enigma.

*******

The next few days passed quietly. Nathan and Josiah arrived and Nathan took over tending Vin. Although he didn’t acknowledge it, the healer was amazed by the gambler's tending Tanner and his attention to detail in informing him of the doctor’s instructions. Instructions Nathan, himself, followed to the letter.

After examining the tracker, Nathan had spent several long minutes convincing Larabee the doctor was not only competent, but had indeed recommended the best course of action. He’d explained the trepanning procedure had been performed more during the war because battlefield doctors didn’t have the time to wait and see if a soldier's head wound would heal on its own.

The days passed slowly, but eventually Vin began to respond, waking more often, the bouts of violence becoming less frequent and he became more lucid, giving them hope when he often recognized whoever sat with him. There were times when he seemed almost like his old self, although there were obvious lapses in his memory.

Satisfied the ex-bounty hunter was on the mend, Ezra decided to return with Josiah to Four Corners and afraid of upsetting Tanner, Larabee left most of his care to Nathan and Buck, spending his days helping Luke around the ranch and sitting at Vin’s beside at night while the man slept.

*******

"Where’s Charlotte?"

Half dozing in the rocker by the softly glowing fireplace, Wilmington was startled by the tracker’s sleepy question.

Buck hesitated, uncertain how to answer. It was the first time Tanner had mentioned the woman and, in truth, the ladies' man had hoped Vin would never remember what had happened since riding out of Four Corners.

"Last I ‘member, we’s ridin’ outta Ruby City together," Vin mumbled sleepily.

Again Buck hesitated, remaining silent. The tracker had been through so much.

"She shoulda been here to see me," Vin persisted before his heavy eyelids remained closed and he returned to sleep.

*******

"Ya oughta eat, Vin," Buck urged, watching the Texan push his food around the bowl. "Luke makes a mighty fine rabbit stew."

Vin looked away, his troubled gaze going to the small patch of countryside visible through the cabin’s small window. "Where are we anyway? I heard someone say we’s near Lizzy Town."

"And?" Buck hedged.

"Hell, Buck, that’s Texas, or so close it might well as be."

It was evident there was no damage to that part of the tracker’s memory. Buck shrugged, "Got me, Hoss. I just saddled up and rode with Chris. Ya know I don’t know north from south," he half-heartedly lied.

His frown deepening, Vin settled down against his pillows, but Buck could tell he was giving everything he had said serious thought.

*******

Two days passed with the Texan seemingly having forgotten the questions which had plagued him earlier. Having discussed it, the men had decided until Vin was fully recovered or remembered things on his own, they would give only minimum answers to Tanner’s questions.

Now, hoping to avoid any discussion involving the woman and wanting to cheer the tracker, Buck had fallen back on his usual tactic and was entertaining the younger man with tales of past conquests.

" Who was takin’ me to Texas fer that bounty money?"

Stunned by the question, the womanizer could only stare at the other man who studied him with pain filled eyes.

"Chris still that pissed with me he decided he didn’t wanna wait for that five hundred dollars?"

"No, Vin, no! Chris wouldn’t do that and you know it!" Wilmington protested, more shocked Vin had reached that conclusion than he’d been by the question itself.

"Hell!" Vin made a fist and slammed it into the bed beside him. "Don’t know what I know anymore! Everythin’s jumbled up and scrambled like this mornin’s breakfast eggs! And no body’ll tell me nothin’!.." He glared at the older man. "Why won’t no body tell me where Charlotte is?"

Buck looked away, trying to formulate an answer.

"She woulda been here ta see me by now. Unless’n Chris is keepin’ her away, afraid I’ll take off with her again."

The older man shook his head. "I think you know better, Vin. Chris ain’t keepin’ her away."

The tracker drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, what little color he’d regained in the past days, draining from his complexion. "She’s dead, ain’t she?...Did Chris kill her?"

"What?" Startled, the womanizer wiped at the hot liquid that splashed onto his trouser leg from his coffee cup. No! He steadily met the tracker’s watery gaze. I’m sorry, Vin. There wasn’t anything we could do to help her, but you have my word, Chris didn’t hurt her."

Sinking back against the pillows Vin turned away and let the tears spill down his cheeks.

*******

Assisting the tracker out onto the porch, Buck waited until Vin had eased himself into the old rocker and, despite the warmth of the sunny afternoon, spent several minutes situating the quilt around the thin man.

" Damnit, Buck, stop fussin’!" Vin slapped the big man's hands away and settled back to breath in the fresh air and enjoy the view. He reveled in being out of his sick bed and back in the sunshine away from the watchful eyes of Jackson and Wilmington. Settling back, he closed his eyes enjoying the feel of the sun's warmth on his face. "Thanks, Buck."

The Texan had been silently mourning the revelation of Charlotte’s death and the womanizer was certain he needed a change. "Call me if ya need anything, Pard." Buck lay a gentle hand on Tanner's shoulder before moving away.

The sunshine felt wonderful on Vin's face and seemed to add to the strength he gained with each passing day. Letting him mourn, his friends had been there, ready to listen if need be and help if possible… except Chris. Yet Tanner had to admit to himself that wasn’t quite fair. Although he seemed to be avoiding the tracker, even Chris had been there.

Several nights the tracker had woken to find the gunslinger dozing in the chair usually occupied by Buck or Nathan. During the day, he’d often heard Larabee talking with one of the other men, but he never entered the bedroom if there was a possibility Vin was awake.

It was probably for the best. In his heart Vin knew Larabee would never have hurt Charlotte and while there were still large lapses in his memory, he did know things had been more than slightly tense between the two of them for quite some time. He was equally certain Charlotte had been at the root of that problem.

"...How’s that young fella doin’?"

"Seems ta be gettin’ better everyday."

Vin heard the approaching footsteps pause just out of his sight and smelled the scent of freshly lit pipe tobacco on the slight breeze. He recognized Luke Bailey’s voice, but not that of his visitor.

"It’s been right nice havin’ some company 'round and they been helpful gettin’ some of the repairs I needed done."

"Grateful them fellers got my team back. I’d sure a been lost without ‘em come winter."

"Just lucky they was lookin’ for their friend coz no one she come across woulda suspected that thievin’ little gal."

Vin's face paled and he swallowed hard as the man's innocently spoken words sank in and the memories rushed over him like a torrent of water over a waterfall: Finding Charlotte in Ruby City...The evening camp...Being knock out...Chained to the wagon...Charlotte’s laughter...Charlotte’s cruel words about only wanting the five hundred dollars on his head...The other man...Gunshots...Texas.

Tears began to track down his cheeks and he suddenly found it as hard to breath as if a large hand had reached into his chest and was squeezing his heart...

"Hey, you okay?" Not receiving an immediate answer, Wilmington shook the tracker’s shoulder. > "Vin, look at me! Are you all right?"

The question finally broke through his anguish and the Texan turned red rimmed, shimmering eyes upward, meeting Buck’s overly concerned gaze. He swallowed hard and failed at his attempt to nod in the affirmative. "Wh-where did y’all f-f-find me?"

"Up the mountain a ways." Wilmington shrugged.

"It was after the wagon wrecked," Vin answered his own question and Buck’s own heart broke for his young friend knowing, regrettably, the tracker’s memory had returned.

Vin stared off into the distance. Charlotte’s jeers rang in his ears. an uncouth illiterate ignorant saddle bum like you? How could he have been so mistaken? He-who prided himself on his ability to read people--- had been blind-sided. ‘Blinded by love,’ his inner voice whispered, but he knew that really wasn’t justification. He had never been so wrong about any one before in his life and that realization shook him as deeply as Charlotte’s betrayal. He had let his guard down, and it had nearly gotten him killed... Killed by someone he had trusted ..and loved.

Buck cleared his throat and Vin drew back from his thoughts to stare bleakly at the other man.

"How..how did ya know?" he questioned finally.

"Know what, Hoss?" Buck hedged.

"Charlotte," he drew in a deep breath and swallowed hard, "Charlotte was takin’ me ta Texas for the bounty money."

The ladies' man cringed inwardly. He had hoped the gentle Texan wouldn’t remember the woman’s cruel duplicity.

"I really thought she come back cause she loved me, Buck," the tracker’s words were little more than a whisper. Really thought that finally someone loved me.. ya know? That I was worth something to someone!. And not jist five hundred dollars..."

"Yeah, Pard, I know what ya mean," Buck laid a gentle hand on Vin’s thin shoulder. "But someday, you’ll find someone who will!"

Vin shook his head. "Don’ think so, Buck. It ain’t worth this." He hesitated for a moment. "She wasn’t any good, was she?"

The womanizer stepped back and hitched a hip on the porch rail, taking a moment to frame his response with care. "She loved you, Vin. We all saw that on the wagon train."

"But she only came back for the price on my head," Vin murmured sadly.

Buck looked away, unsure what to say, then decided it was best to speak from his heart. "I don’t know what happened ta her, Vin... don’t know what changed her. Reckon nobody will ever really be able to answer that, but I do know love when I see it and durin’ that time you two was together on the train...there wasn’t nothin’ but love in her eyes when she looked at ya."

"It’s easy fer ya, Buck. Hell fer all of y’all. Ya can give in, fall fer any woman who looks yer way. Ya can marry iffen ya want!." The younger man stared at his hands. "It ain’t that easy fer me. I got this price on my head and there’s them that would just as soon shoot me as look at me. I got no future, nothin’ ta offer a woman. I ain’t smart like Josiah, or good lookin’ like ya or fancy like Ezra...I ain’t ever had a woman love me like Chris was loved by his Sarah. Maybe that’s why it turned my head when Charlotte looked my way...coz I’d never had that before. For a short time, I could think ‘bout lookin’ ahead, and not over my shoulder...of havin’ a life, a family...Even though deep down, I knew I’s just dreamin’." He trailed off, knowing he had admitted too much.

"Some day, Vin, you’re gonna find the right woman."

The Texan shook his head. "Nope, I don’t think so."

"Yer wrong about that, Vin. Ya got a lot more ta offer the right woman than some men. Ya got honesty and gentleness and a true heart and that’s what the right woman is gonna see. She ain’t gonna care how book smart ya are or whether ya have perfect manners, or if you’re as good lookin’ as me." He grinned, pretending to preen before growing serious once again. "Or if ya have a price on your head. Some day, you’re gonna find a woman who’ll love ya just as much as Sarah loved Chris and when ya do...don’t ya dare think twice about handin’ over your heart and be thankful for every minute ya have to spend with her...Just like Chris did when he met Sarah Just like I plan ta do someday when the right one for me comes along."

Tanner saw the sincerity in the other man's deep blue eyes and realized Buck truly believed what he was saying and was offering nothing but heartfelt advice. He stared across the yard, giving himself time to regain control of his emotions. "How did ya all know to come lookin’ fer me?" he questioned again.

"JD and Casey found Peso."

At the mention of the horse’s name, the other man seemed to brighten slightly. "I thought he was long gone." He sighed deeply and seemed to square his shoulders, knowing he still had something in the world to care for.

"Nope, he’s in his stall back in Four Corners. Them youngsters happened on the farmer he was sold to and bought him back for ya." He saw the younger man’s eyes mist.

"Guess I’m gonna owe ‘em for that."

"Nah, Ezra done took care of them. Ya know, that gambler is a pretty good fella once ya realize he’s got a good heart under them fancy clothes."

"That he does," Vin admitted.

"And I can tell ya, he sure surprised the hell outta me and Chris on this trip."

"Ezra was here?" Tanner questioned in surprise.

"Yeah." Buck nodded. "When we was sure ya was gonna be okay, he went back with Josiah ta help JD till we get there."

Tanner fell silent again, staring out across the yard and after several long quiet moments, Buck pushed to his feet. It was then he saw the black clad figure standing in the shadows by the door. How long had the gunfighter been there and how much had he overheard? As he stepped away, Chris moved closer. Their gazes met and Larabee nodded once before carrying a chair onto the porch and sitting down next to the tracker.

"Good woman’s hard to find, Vin," the older man stated quietly, pulling a cheroot from his pocket shirt pocket and striking a Lucifer on the sole of his boot.

Tanner’s shaggy head came around to stare wide eyed at the man seated beside him.

"Just like it’s hard to find a good friend." Chris looked away, then brought his gaze back to meet Vin’s. "I’m thinkin’ it’s about time we all head back home. If you’re up to it. Let Ol’ Luke have his house back."

Vin stared at him for a long drawn out moment and then slowly nodded.

Buck smiled in the shadows. It was a start.

************************************************************************

Several months later:

Vin looked around the small meadow.

"It’s over there," Ezra pointed out.

Striding across the lush grass, Tanner stopped by the cairn of rocks. He hadn’t been sure about this, but other than the small discussion on the porch that day, he’d never really talked about Charlotte and more than once he found himself sinking into depression as his thoughts turned to the young woman. Josiah had pointed out he needed closure and when Vin had put it to Ezra, the gambler had agreed. Taking several days off, they’d ridden out of Four Corners and made the leisurely journey, stopping to visit with Luke before heading up into the mountains.

Vin had recognized things along the trail and Ezra helped fill in the gaps, pointing out the burned out barn where an unnamed young man had lost his life, assuring Tanner he and Larabee had returned the day after the doctor’s first visit to bury the man. Standish led him to where they had found him, a few rotting boards which was all that remained of the wagon, still trapped among the mud and rocks of the stream, the then muddied meadow which was now lush and green and carpeted with colorful wild flowers.

Dismounting, staying with the horses, Ezra had directed the tracker to the spot he had ridden so far to see.

Vin stood looking down at the rocks for several long moments before speaking softly. "Come ta pay my respects, Charlotte. I know that may seem strange after everything that happened, but I wanted ta thank ya, coz for a little while…for a few days... I was happy. Happy coz of you...J’siah said passion has its price. I guess for you it was five hundred dollars, but I reckon in the end ya paid the ultimate price." He toyed with the hat he held in his hands. "Chris says ya got what ya deserved fer killin’ Richmond and that cowboy...Says it was probably better this way coz the law would had ta hang ya...Maybe he’s right... Ya was wrong, Charlotte, but I...I wanted ya ta know I really did love ya. "

Jamming his hat into place, he turned and walked back to where Ezra waited with the horses. As they mounted up and rode away, a feeling of peace settled over Vin and he didn't look back.

THE END

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