Chris Larabee mopped the perspiration from his hat band, settling it back on his blond hair and took another swallow of warm beer. It was one of those hot days where the sweat rolled off a person when they were just sitting still.

He could have been inside in the somewhat cooler dimness of the saloon behind him, but it seemed every male within a five mile radius of Four Corners had that same thought and he had escaped to the shaded porch, searching for quiet and a slight breeze.

Hearing the batwing doors squeak open, Larabee didn't bother to look to see who exited the saloon, instinctively knowing who had joined him on the boardwalk. The crowd had obviously begun pressing in on the young tracker.

The sharpshooter stood, half empty beer mug in hand, looking down the street. "Warm, ain't it?" he muttered.

"Hell, Tanner, Gila monsters and rattlesnakes are pantin' and you just call it warm?" Chris had to wonder how much higher the temperature would have to get for the tracker to think it was hot.

"It's rel-a-tive," Vin pointed out, sounding out the word, as he hooked the other chair with his booted foot and dragged it across the boardwalk.

Slouching down in it, he attempted to capture an errant breeze at the building's corner.

Chris grinned, shaking his head. "Ya been listenin' to Josiah, ain't ya?"

Tanner took a swallow of his flat tasting beer. "Maybe."

He wasn't much on talking himself, but he loved to listen when the big bear of a man got in one of his talking spells. Vin didn't understand the actual concept of philosophy, but that didn't deter him a bit. He didn't have to understand what was being said, but just took great pleasure in the sounds of the words uttered in the preacher's deep baritone.

The two friends sat in companionable silence. It was too hot to even talk, and each was lost in his own thoughts.

It had been a quiet week as the oppressive heat seemed to have kept everyone in a stupor, only an occasional cowboy taking too readily an offense at some easy going words, as a few tempers flared with the growing heat. But most of the town folks wisely spent the time trying to keep cool, doing what couldn't wait when the sun first rose and what could wait until the end of the day mainly staying out of trouble and making the peacekeepers job a lot easier.

With the slowness, Ezra had asked for time to ride to Eagle Bend and, seeing no reason for him not to go, Chris had agreed. He had actually relished the past few days without the southerner around bitchin' to high heaven about the heat and dust and everything in general. The gambler was a good man, but he got on Chris' nerves at the best of times....

Of course the other five men had thought the gambler had lost his mind for even thinking about traveling when the heat wave had the countryside wrapped in its clutches. Ezra calmly pointed out, no matter the ecological conditions, a man should always look his best and he had heard of a new haberdashery opening. A little heat was nothing more than a mere inconvenience when a man was flush with a few extra dollars and in dire need of new apparel. Additionally, the con man had received a letter several days earlier and while he had merely smiled and remained silent when asked about it, the other men had all noticed there was air of excited anticipation about the gambler.

"Shore is quiet," Vin muttered around his beer, eerily reading his friend's mind.

"Right peaceful," Chris admitted.

The tracker slouched lower in the old wooden chair, pulling his hat down to shade his face as he looked beyond the end of Main Street. "Stage."

If Chris noted his friend's attempt to shadow his face from any newcomers, he paid it no mind and threw a glance in the direction indicated. "Beer says it's too hot for Buck to meet it."

"Yer on."

As the stage approached, the horses and wheels kicked up a large rooster tail plume of dust which hung suspended in the still air. As he hit the edge of town, the driver pulled the horses to a walk, in an attempt to lessen the dust they raised, and failing miserably.

"Shit!" Chris growled out loud as the batwings swung open and Buck stepped out to lean against the porch support. "Guess I owe ya a beer," he groused good naturedly to the tracker.

"Yep," Vin readily admitted, always up for a free drink, especially when that drink had been won in a bet.

They watched with mild interest as a portly drummer, high collared and jacketed, his face red flushed in the heat, stepped out of the stage. He hesitated on the street, moping the sheen of sweat from his face as he waited for the driver to pitch him the valise from the top of the stage. The law men easily read this newcomer would be no trouble and their gazes jumped to the only other passenger they could see moving about within the stage.

A black patent leather clad foot, followed by a shapely calf and silk skirts, slowly moved to settle down in the dust of the street.

Vin gave Chris a lopsided grin as both men saw Buck perk up and straighten his clothes. Beating the dust from his clothes with his hat, the womanizer set his mug on the rail and hurried across the street to approach the open stage door.

"Allow me..." He held out his hand, and the young woman graciously accepted his assistance as she alighted from the stage.

As she looked up, blue green eyes framed by thick long lashes, Buck Wilmington was, for one of the few times faced with such beauty, speechless.

"Why, thank ya, sir," she offered demurely, her soft voice holding a deep hint of southern birth. She lightly shook her skirts. "Pray tell me, sir, is it always this hot?"

Poor Buck was staring at her, tongue tied. Only the driver dropping the drummer's valise and hitting his shoulder with it broke the womanizer's trance. "Aww, well, yes, ma'am... I mean, no, ma'am."

She released her grasp on his hand and looked around, her sharp eyed gaze taking in the two friends observing from the boardwalk. Her gaze moved on, not acknowledging their presence.

Chris straightened slightly and looked at the scruffy tracker. "I guess we ain't genteel enough..." he muttered.

Vin gave him a lop sided grin, “Know’d I shoulda shaved this mornin’,” he quipped before turning his attention back to the newcomer.

The young lady’s gaze settled back on Buck. "Could I impose on you to inquire if there might be accommodations suitable for myself in this dusty little burg?"

Buck finally nodded. "Yes, ma'am.... the hotel right up the street. If you would permit me...?" He retrieved her two pieces of luggage and then, tucking her hand through his arm, he escorted her up the street ,glancing at Tanner and Larabee long enough to send a suggestive wink their direction.

"Gonna be trouble," Vin muttered, jerking his chin in the direction of the two.

Chris scoffed, "Nah, she's too highbrow for ol' Buck. He'll get her to the hotel, and she'll show him the door."

"Wanna bet a beer on it?" Vin offered with another lop sided grin.

Chris nodded. "You buyin'?"

Vin ducked his head, "Aww hell, no... If I lose -- and I won't --I'll put it on Ez's tab this time...."

Chris let a soft laugh escape. Only Tanner would have the audacity to put drinks on the gambler's running tab.

*******

Buck stood, holding the young woman's luggage as she rang the bell on the desk and waited for the clerk to appear from the back room.

The old man, seeing the pretty woman at the counter, flushed and hurriedly buttoned his vest, which had been hanging open in the oppressive heat. "Yes, miss? May I help you?"

"Might you have a room?" she questioned, batting her long lashes at him.

"Why yes, miss. If you'll sign...." He turned the register around and slid it across the top of the smooth counter for her signature.

Responding like a typical male to a pretty woman the old man smiled, reaching for a key as she signed the register with a flourish. "This is our best room, ma'am." He started around the counter to show her up the stairs, but Buck, finally moving, reached out to snag the key from his grasp.

"I got it, Clem," he muttered, following the woman up the steps, his glazed gaze locked on the somewhat enticing sway of her bustle ahead of him.

Dragging his eyes down, he glanced at the number on the key and paused by the proper door. "This will be it, ma'am..." He pushed it open and set the bags on the floor just inside. He handed her the key and smiling, started around her.

"Wait, sir!"

He hid his smile as he turned around, arching an eyebrow in silent question.

"How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Penelope Starke Hewlett, late of Georgia."

"Buck Wilmington, ma'am." He took her offered hand, and slowly released it. "Georgia, ya say? I know a gentleman from Atlanta. Work with him in fact."

"And what kind of work is it you do, Mister Wilmington?" She motioned to his apparel. "Cowboyin'?"

He made a face, laughing. "No, ma'am. Not anymore. Done some ranchin' but now I'm one of the peace keepers here in town."

"A lawman! How wonderful!" She batted her long eyelashes, smiling up at the handsome lawman. "Then perhaps, since I know I couldn't be in safer hands, I could persuade you to escort me to the nearest establishment providing a decent meal.” She smiled again and dropped her voice to a husky whisper, “A lady shouldn't admit it, but after all those long dusty miles, I am ravenous."

Buck wasn’t exactly sure what ravenous meant, but he was in total agreement with anything she said. "Must be this fine air, ma'am." As she stepped from the room, he locked the door and handed her the key, then, as she tucked her hand through his arm, they made their way down the steps and out onto the boardwalk, Buck steering her in the direction of the only cafe in town.

*******

"Ya lost, Pard," Chris pointed out a little too gleefully as the two friends watched the man and woman exit the hotel.

"Shit! I thought sure a fine lady like that would send Buck spinnin' on his ear," Vin muttered, shaking his head. "Course she's still hangin' on his arm so he ain't outta the game yet and knowin' ol’ Buck, he ain't gonna give up easy."

"I'll take that beer now. This one's...." he took a last gulp, "gone."

Still muttering under his breath about pushy friends, Vin gained his feet, snagged the empty mug and made his way inside. In a few minutes he returned, carrying two full mugs. At Chris' look, he shrugged, "Aww, hell, if Ez was springin' fer one, he could afford ta spring fer two..." Easing back into the chair, he gave the gunslinger a grin. "And you still owe me one, ‘cause Bucklyn sure did hightail it over there to meet the stage."

Shaking his head again at the young tracker's audacity, Chris took the beer from his grasp. Cradling the mug against his chest, he tilted the chair back against the wall and let his sleepy, but always alert, gaze drift over the street.

"When ya think he'll be back?" Vin finally broke the long stretch of silence.

"Coupla days." Chris didn't ask who. He didn't have to.

"Guess we'll enjoy beer for a coupla more days then," Vin drawled lazily, an overly innocent lop sided grin coming to his face at the look Chris threw him.

"Guess we will." The older man chuckled mentally, making a note to pay his tabs if he ever had to leave town without the wily sharpshooter.

*******

The evening passed quietly, the heat keeping everyone subdued. Vin saddled up at sunset to make a quick patrol, but returned shortly after dark.

Making his way to the saloon after tending his weary horse, the tracker moved to the bar and ordered a beer to cut the dust from his throat. Spying Chris at their usual table, the younger man jerked his chin towards the door and made his way outside.

He settled down, tilting the chair back in familiar routine and watched as his friend settled in the empty chair beside him.

"Any problems?" Chris finally queried.

"Nah. All's quiet. Too damn hot for anythin' ta be stirrin'."

Larabee nodded across the street, "'Ceptin' Buck."

A slow smile creased the younger man's dusty face at the sight of the womanizer leaving the hotel, a definite swagger in his step. Anyone who knew the lady's man knew all too well the signs Buck had struck it lucky.

"Ya know, one of these days, ol' Bucklyn's gonna mess with the wrong woman and a pissed off husband is gonna plant him," Vin drawled around his beer.

"Yer right. Been tellin' him that fer years and he don't listen." Chris pointed out.

"Really hate ta see it happen, too. Bucklyn's a right nice fella, oncet ya get past all that mother hennin' and tellin' a body what ta do all the time. Sometimes, he's worse than Nathan......" he eyed the man in black, "or you."

Chris scowled at him, but the tracker ignored the look.

"Which lady ya think enjoyed Buck's…. company?"

Chris thought for a moment, "Molly." He named the red headed young saloon girl who had held Buck's wandering eye the longest.

"Beer says it's that new gal in town."

"One came in on the stage?" Chris questioned incredulously.

"Yep."

Larabee laughed softly, "This is the easiest beer Ezra ever paid for," he murmured as Buck sauntered up to where they sat.

"Boys," his face was lit by a bright smile. "Everythin' okay out there, Vin?"

The tracker nodded, "Just fine, Bucklyn. How 'bout with ya?"

Buck nearly danced up and down as he dragged a wooden chair closer and straddled it backwards, resting his arms on the back rail. "Ya ain't gonna believe it!"

"'Lieve what, Buck?" Larabee queried, ignoring the smug look which was creeping across the long haired man's face.

"I just spent the most incredible evenin' with the most incredible woman---"

"They're all incredible to hear you tell it, Buck," the Hoosier interrupted with a frown. Men weren't suppose to kiss and tell.... Of course, that rarely stopped any of them and certainly not Buck Wilmington.

"They are, but this one....." he trailed off with a long expressive sigh.

"Take it ya ain't talkin' 'bout Miz Molly," Vin offered.

"Hell, no!" Buck protested. "Oh, now, don't get me wrong! Molly's..." he hesitated searching for the right word to describe the pretty little barmaid, "pretty wonderful, but I'm talkin' 'bout Penelope."

"Who?" both men questioned at the same time.

"Penelope Stark Hewlett. She came in on the stage earlier. Ya saw her, didn't ya?" The womanizer looked appalled they could forget such a lovely creature in the matter of a few hours.

"In passin'," Vin nodded, turning to Chris, his somewhat smug expression hidden from Buck by the shadow of his hat brim. "Hey, Pard, I'm outta beer here. Ya wanna go buy 'nother round?"

Shooting daggers at the smirking tracker, Chris pushed to his feet and went inside, leaving the two men alone.

Buck eyed the other man. "Ya saw her, didn't ya?"

"Pretty thing, all frilled ‘nd fancy?"

"Yeah, that's her. She's from Georgia."

"So's Ez," Vin pointed out.

"Been meaning to ask her if she knew his family, but keep gettin' side tracked," he winked, "if ya know what I mean."

"Way I hear, it's a big place. Don't stand ta reason she'd know the name," Vin pointed out.

"Yeah, reckon you're right at that." Buck looked around as Chris returned with three beers, accepting the one Larabee shoved his way.

As Chris handed one to Vin he muttered, "Put Buck's on your tab, Pard."

"Hey, ya coulda put it on..." The tracker clamed up, not revealing what practical joke he had been up to the last few months. He had pulled it on Bucklyn several times without the man catching on to the extra drinks placed on his tab and Vin didn't want to ruin a good thing.

"So, Buck, what do ya know about this lady?" Chris questioned once he had settled back down in his chair and made himself comfortable.

Vin spoke up. "She's from Georgia."

"Well, hell, with all that intimate knowledge about her, Buck, ya must be plum ready for marriage," the gunslinger wisecracked. "Reckon she knows Maude?"

"Hell, Pard, everybody knows Maude!" Vin blurted out. "Even you!"

Chris choked on his beer and Buck, with a sad shake of his head, drained his mug, handed it to Vin and walked off.

Vin exchanged puzzled looks with Chris. "Was it somethin' I said?"

*******

Vin woke before dawn and rolled out of the dilapidated wagon which was his 'home.' Although he had a nice room in the hotel, thanks to the judge and his town job, on hot nights he preferred the peace and quiet of the old tattered canvas over his head. Slinging his holstered mare's leg over his shoulder, he crammed his hat on his head and moved toward the stable, intending to do a quick wash off in the water tough outside the barn before grabbing a bite to eat and heading out on patrol.

Whistling off tune, he rounded the corner of the barn and ran into another person, falling back with a muffled "oomph!" Straightening, he eyed the person in front of him and a wide smile creased his tanned face.

"Ez!"

"Mister Tanner, how nice to run into you this fine morning – literally," the southerner drawled, not hiding the smile which crept on his face at the sight of the tracker's delight in seeing him.

"Ya just get back?" Vin slouched against the barn.

"Yes. I remembered you once stated it was cooler to travel at night than suffer the heat of the day. With the full moon last night, I must admit, it was a peaceful ride."

"Weren't 'pectin' ya for 'nother day or two."

"I take it you lost a bet then?" Ez teased, easily reading the answer in the young man's face. He patted the tracker's shoulder. "Perhaps you will allow me purchase you a beer later," he offered.

"'Ey, that'd be nice of ya, Ez."

"So has there been any excitement in my absence?" The gambler quizzed.

"Nah, just got hotter couple day ago." The young man fell silent, staring off at the hazy mountains.

"A penny for your thoughts, Mister Tanner," Ezra teased, wondering at the tracker's attitude.

Vin flashed him a quick grin. "Might be worth a penny at that. Just thinkin' there's a storm brewin' in the future."

"It would be welcome," Ezra admitted, his own dimpled grin an indication he understood the tracker's own special form of communication.

"Might be hell ta pay when it hits, pard," the tracker straightened. "I'm gonna knock the dust off. Ya had breakfast?"

Ezra laughed. "At this hour? Since I have yet to feel the comfort of my feather bed, a fact I intend to rectify immediately, it would actually be my dinner. However, Mister Tanner, perhaps I will take you up on your kind offer another time."

"Maybe I'll run into ya after I get back from patrol then."

"Mister Larabee has you riding patrol in this offensive heat?"

"No, that's why I ride early, 'afore it gets so hot...." the tracker threw over his shoulder as he moved on toward the barn. “I'll see ya when I get back."

"I'll look for you then. Ride safely, Mister Tanner."

Vin smiled and nodded as he moved on, getting a start on the day, knowing what was about to happen....

*******

Returning from patrol several hours later, dusty and hot, he tended Peso then headed up the street. Larabee was on the boardwalk, having coffee in front of the jail and Vin ambled in that direction.

Chris saw him and had a cup of coffee waiting when the tracker stopped by the door. Pulling off his hat, knocking the clinging dust from his clothes before entering the jail, Tanner sighed as he accepted the proffered cup with a deep sigh.

"Thanks."

"See anything?" Larabee questioned. He, himself, planned to take the afternoon ride, refusing to have his men do something he wasn't willing to do himself.

"Coupla dead cows out James' way. Nothin' else." He gulped the coffee and poured himself another cup.

"Glad to hear it. Kinda hopin' things stay quiet until this heat breaks. Gotta storm soon."

The ex-bounty hunter slouched against the door jamb, shaking his head, a small cloud of dust drifting out of his long curls. "'Member a heat wave several years back that went on fer two months."

Chris groaned. "Sure don't need that."

"Hey, 'bout fergot. Ya seen Ez?"

The gunslinger's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why would I see Ezra?"

"He's back. Seen him 'this mornin' afore I rode out."

"I imagine he's hit his bunk and won't be up until the night life starts crawlin' about." Larabee growled.

"Aw, hell, Chris. Don't be so hard on 'im. Poor ol' Ez just ain't a mornin' person." Tanner was quick to defend his friend. "'Sides he rode all night ta get home. Said he ‘membered how I was sayin' it's cooler ta travel at night in this kinda weather."

"Sometimes he ain't much of an anythin' person," Chris groused good naturedly. The gambler irked him to no end and he had rather enjoyed the relative peace and quiet with him gone. Invariably, when the gambler showed up, trouble soon followed.

Larabee knew that thought wasn't really fair to the southerner. Hell, the gambler displayed the colors of his profession with pride, giving fair warning to anyone who antied into one of his games the odds of winning weren't in their favor.

Truthfully, to the shootist’s chagrin, the peacekeepers had as much trouble from Larabee's own enemies as they did from the gambler's poker games.

*******

The tracker spent the day lazing around town, but never saw Ezra. It puzzled him the gambler didn't show for lunch, or to buy the earlier offered drink, but he knew the man was in town and he wouldn't be leaving again anytime soon. Perhaps, after the night riding, the southerner, who hated spending time on the trail was simply catching up on his sleep. More likely he was hiding out from Larabee, avoiding having the gunslinger send him out on patrol.

The afternoon and evening passed uneventfully, the oppressive heat draining the energy from everyone. Other than Chris, Tanner just caught passing glimpses of the other law keepers as they, too, tried to stay out of the heat.

Sharing a quiet drink with the black clad gunslinger in front of the saloon as the sun went down, Tanner glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye. Chris had a far away look in his eye and Vin kept his silence. It was a given between the two of them… never treading on the other's space when they wanted peace and quiet.

"Aww, hell, guess I'll turn in." Vin gulped the last swallow of beer and handed the empty mug to Chris, who lowered it to the boardwalk beside his chair.

"Don't gotta go," Chris muttered lowly.

"Gonna storm tomorrow." Vin motioned toward the sky, indicating the sundog which reflected moisture in the atmosphere. "Be a bad one if it hits in the afternoon on top of all this heat."

"Yeah. Better get prepared for it." Larabee pushed to his feet and gathered up the mugs, moving for the saloon doors. "See ya in the mornin' then."

"'Night, Chris." Ambling towards the battered old wagon, whistling a tune under his breath, Vin turned in for the night.

*******

The rain was visible in the distance as Vin finished his morning patrol and headed back to town. Peso was as eager as his rider to get home before the weather broke. Holding the horse down to a steady jog, Tanner's azure gaze searched the country side and sky. Open ground was not a good place to be caught out in a lightning storm and if the distant flashes were any indication, it was going to be a powerful storm.

He pulled up at the stables as the first patters of rain began to fall. Hurrying the gelding inside, he stripped his gear from Peso and settled the animal in its stall before he finally headed up the street towards the jail, looking for Chris.

The rain began in earnest as he ducked under the shelter of the general store's overhanging porch. Standing there, watching the rain drops immediately vanish into the thick dusty dryness of the street, he was unaware of Larabee's approach until the man spoke his name.

"Hey, Vin. Here's your storm."

"Yeah," Tanner mumbled, nodding towards the saloon. "Ya buyin' since Ez is back in town? Could sure use somethin' to cut the trail dust."

"Everything okay?" Chris voiced with a touch of concern.

"Yeah. Real quiet." He followed the gunslinger into the dim cool saloon and moved to their usual table as Chris ordered their beers. "Almost to quiet... Don't feel right." At Chris silent question, he shrugged. “Feels ‘lmost like in Texas afore one of ‘em twisters hits… and tears everythin’ ta hell and gone…”

“Think we’re due one here?” Larabee asked with a touch of concern. The Texan knew more about weather and sign than anyone he knew, and if was he was getting a sense of impending disaster….

Vin shook his head, “Nah, probably not. Probably just a little ol’ dust up…”

They drank in silence and listened to the rain and thunder crashing outside. Vin comfortably slouched down in his chair with his back to the wall, pulling his hat over his eyes, willing to wait out the storm as long as he had something to drink in his beer mug.

Chris eyed his companion and shook his head. Damn quiet tracker could slouch down so far a man could forget he was even there, which Larabee was aware was exactly the young man's intent. If Vin didn't move and didn't speak, one quickly forgot he was even in the vicinity.

"Lettin' up," the younger man commented a long while later, straightening in his chair and shoving the empty mug across the table top, gracefully getting to his feet. "Was gonna go check, see if my wagon's leakin' any. Wanna walk along?" he offered, pausing to look down at the older man.

"Why not?" Larabee shoved his empty glass across the table and gained his feet, trailing after the tracker who paused for a moment before stepping out in the rain washed air.

Chris was aware this, too, was an instinctive part of the tracker, always cautious, always watchful of someone, anyone who might be gunning for him hoping to cash in on the bounty on his head. Hell of a note in a man so young, Larabee thought. Now, an old gunslinger like him could expect the vultures to be waiting around …. Hell, he expected them to come gunning for him one of these days. There would always be some stupid young pup looking to make a name for himself by calling out Chris Larabee.

He had done a lot of things in his life he wasn't proud of and knew payment was due somewhere down the road. But, he also knew it would not be here. Not in this town, with these men watching his back.

The two men ambled down the boardwalk, looking around in surprise when they heard their names called.

Ezra was approaching, dressed in his finest, despite the muggy heat. "Gentlemen, I failed to catch your attention as you departed the saloon. I was just coming down for the afternoon and thought you might like to join me in a drink."

"Ya buyin'?" Chris questioned, casting a quick look at the tracker whose suddenly guilty gaze was everywhere but on the gambler.

"But, of course, gentlemen."

"Well, Vin wanted to check his wagon, see how badly it leaked." Chris moved on down the street, the other men following as he added over his shoulder, "Wouldn't want his bed to get wet, now would we?"

Vin made a face at the man's back and Ezra suppressed a grin of his own as they entered the alley. A few months earlier Tanner had moved the old dilapidated wagon next to the stable's back corral, far away from the bustle and noise of the main street. It wasn't much, but it was Vin's and he escaped to the only place he could call his own when the confines of the city paid room at the boarding house became too much. These last few nights, with the oppressive heat, it had actually been bearable under the canvas top, the battered material catching the slightest breeze.

As they approached the conveyance, all three men froze at a sound emanating from under the battered old canvas top.

Giggling. Feminine giggling.

Chris' eyebrows shot up as he turned to look at the tracker who had a puzzled expression on his face. It was evident the young tracker hadn't expected to find company in his more than humble abode.

The giggling continued, followed by a man's hearty laugh. A hardy laugh they all three knew too well. Buck Wilmington.

Exchanging a wicked grin with Larabee, Vin, pulling off his rain soaked hat, silently slipped up to the side of the wagon. Then, in a loud voice, slapping the canvas with his hat, yelled, "What the hell ya doin' in my wagon!?"

The canvas shook and the floorboards creaked as bodies moved too quickly and a muffled "Ow!" followed a hard thump.

Tanner's smile widened into an out and out grin of pure pleasure as Buck scrambled from the back of the wagon, hastily buttoning his shirt and trying to tuck it in, his hands getting caught in his suspenders.

"Vin! Wasn't 'spectin' ya home…" he began, then turned to lend a hand to the woman who was climbing out of the back of the wagon.

Clothes in disarray, one of Vin's blankets wrapped about her bare shoulders, her hair in wet tangles down her back and in her face, was the otherwise elegant Penelope Starke Hewlett.

"Penelope?!"

"Ezra?!"

Chris and Vin exchanged looks as Standish stepped closer to Buck, the gambler’s previously amused expression turning to one of fierce rage. Without a word, the southerner grabbed Vin's rain soaked hat from the tracker's unresisting grasp and smacked it across Buck's face with an angry growl.

Buck backed up and then, realizing who it was, stepped towards the gambler. "Hey, hey hey! What the hell was that for?"

"Damn, Ez! Ya wanna use headwear ta smack someone around, use your own hat!" Tanner groused, grabbing his beloved hat and attempting to push it back into some kind shape.

Before anyone could say anything else, Penelope launched herself at Ezra, grabbing his wrist as he attempted to swing at the womanizer. "Ezra, don't!"

"Ezra’? You know him?" Buck demanded, swinging his flustered gaze to the woman.

"I should dare say so! She's my fiancée`!" Ezra yelled, stunning all three men who stared at the con man in silent stupefaction. "I demand to know exactly what liberties you were taking with my intended, Mister Wilmington!"

"I-I-I---!" Buck looked around hopefully at his oldest friend and the tracker, expecting them to help him and was just as surprised they left him to swim on his own as he was by Ezra's declaration. "Well, hell, Ez, what do ya think I was doin'? But I swear, I didn't know ya two even knew each other... let alone was engaged."

"I demand satisfaction, sir!" Once again snatching the weather worn garment, Ezra raised Vin's hat to smack Buck's face, but the tracker anticipated the move and grabbed the southerner's wrist, wrestling his hat from the man's grasp.

"Ya done did that, Pard!"

"Satisfaction? What kinda satisfaction?" Buck stared at Ezra in disbelief. "You mean a duel?"

"You have dishonored my name and my intended and I demand justice," Ezra growled, his green eyes flashing.

"Hey now Ez, this don't have to go to violence, does it? Couldn't we just put ol' Buck in jail and let him cool his heels for a few days?" Vin suggested, looking to Larabee for back up and getting nothing but a shrug from the older man.

This had been bound to happen. Hadn't they been discussing this very topic only two days earlier? Besides Chris knew when Standish had time to cool down and think about it clearly, he'd see things a bit more coolly and find another way to get his revenge. God help Buck when he did!

"It would take more than that for Mister Wilmington to cool his heels! I demand satisfaction!" Ezra yelled again, by this time having attracted a crowd at the end of the alley, including Josiah and Nathan.

Wilmington gestured futilely, his hands in the air. "Oh shit, why not!" He didn't for a moment believe Standish was serious. "Only not with swords," he half joked, having had his fill of those weapons fighting for Inez's honor.

"Guns…. Tonight at sunset." With a last furious look, grabbing the young woman's arm, Ezra literally propelled her down the alley and through the crowd, leaving his friends in stunned silence.

*******

The men, less Ezra, retired to the jail, where JD, who hadn't witnessed the events, demanded to know what was going on. Josiah quickly informed him and the youngster exploded.

"Well, that's just silly! Buck and Ezra are friends! Why would Ezra do that?" he demanded to know.

"Well, Brother Ezra was brought up with that strong southern sense of right and wrong when it comes to female folk and this is his future wife we are talking about," Josiah pointed out. He turned to round on Buck, "Ya said ya knew she was from Georgia. Did it ever cross your mind to ask her if she knew Ezra or his family?"

"Georgia's a big state." Buck looked at the floor, finally shaking his head. "Had other things on my mind," he muttered.

"I warned ya a million times, Buck. That other thing is gonna be what gets ya killed. Ya never listened, did ya?" Chris rounded on him as well.

"Well, it don't matter why or how it happened. What matters is it did happen and Ezra is madder than a scalded cat. Somebody better go try talkin' ta him," Nathan suggested, looked pointedly at their leader.

The gunslinger held his hands up, shaking his head. "I ain't getting' in his line of sight, not this time." Larabee dropped into the chair behind the desk. "This time he's right. We've been friends a helluva lotta years, Buck, rode a lotta trails together, but Ezra's right. Hell, if it had been Sarah in that wagon, I'd a done the same damn thing... only I sure as hell wouldn't a waited ‘till sundown."

The womanizer hung his head in shamed defeat. He knew Chris would stand beside him come hell or high water as long as Buck was in the right... but there was no doubt in his own mind this time he was wrong.

"Aww, hell," Vin pushed to his feet. "I'll go talk to him."

"I'll come with you," Josiah offered, gaining his feet as well and following the younger man from the building.

*******

Ezra was settled at his usual gaming table, playing solitaire when they entered the saloon. There was no sign of Miss Penelope and from the scowl Standish wore, they could only assume the betrothed couple had had more than a few words after he escorted her to her hotel room. Not pausing for a beer, Vin made a bee line for the table and dragging out a chair, he straddled it across from the gambler.

"Ya can't be serious 'bout this, Ez," he began without greeting, his husky voice earnest.

"I have never been more so in my life, Mister Tanner. This involves more than just the men of this town, Mister Wilmington and myself. This trifling with the affections of my intended simply cannot be permitted or overlooked."

"Buck's sorry fer what he done--" Vin began.

Ezra shook his head, cutting the tracker's words short. "My fiancée is a naïve young lady with a very sheltered upbringing. I have tolerated personal slander and numerous affronts to my family name, but this, I honestly cannot allow. Honor dictates I can not look aside. I made my challenge and I will not have people believe it was false bravado."

"Not even fer a friend?" Vin questioned softly.

"Not even for that, Mister Tanner." Standish fell silent, his eyes never leaving the cards he was toying with and after several long moments of silence, with a sigh, Vin pushed to his feet and started away, Josiah quietly following, certain the gambler only needed time to think about the consequences of his challenge. Given solitude to reflect, the southerner might reconsider his actions and use that scheming mind of his to come up with a more suitable solution.

The tracker paused, turning back to utter, "Ya know, Ez, I 'member when we met ya, ya wasn't very honorable, shootin' like ya did and connin' them folks in that bar. When'd ya up and change on us?"

The gambler looked up, a small sad smile on his handsome face. "When I met up with you gentlemen." He turned back to his cards and the two men made their way back to the jail.

*******

As the afternoon dragged on, the men six men in the jail each took time to approach the gambler who remained in the saloon.

Nathan, never a real fan of the southerner, his ways, or his chosen profession nonetheless made a solitary trip to confront the gambler. Sitting down in the chair across the table from the gambler, he stared at the man who seemed so engrossed in his card game.

With a deep sigh, the healer spoke. "Ya can't be doin' this, Ezra."

The gambler paused to look up as if just realizing he was no longer alone. "Doing what, Mister Jackson? The whole point to this game is to play alone, hence the name Solitaire."

"Ya know damn well I'm talkin' about goin' though with this outrageous action. Ya can't just have a shootout in the middle of Main Street with Buck. He's your friend, or doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I wasn't aware friendship required I allow him to dally with the affections of my fiancée." Ezra retorted. "Am I to simply ignore the fact Mister Wilmington used her to satisfy his own needs? If that is the case than I fully expect you not to mind when he turns his roving eye in Miss Rain's direction”

"That ain't what I meant, Ezra! He was wrong! He knows he was wrong, but ya know as well as I do that if he'd known who she was, the devil himself couldn't have made him give in to temptation." The dark man argued, adding, "And how does the lady feel about this? Knowing you are going to be shooting it out in the street?"

"It is none of her concern," Ezra retorted sharply.

"It's about her… it should be," Nate shot back.

The gambler glared at him before turning his attention back to the cards on the table in front of him.

"Ya know, I don't need you two wounded and bleedin' in the street," Nathan remarked stubbornly.

"You have no need to worry yourself."

Nate looked up, his expression hopeful. It fell at Ezra's next words.

"There will be no need for your medical talents." Not looking up, the gambler uttered, "One of us will be dead."

"Idiots." Shaking his head, knowing he had accomplished nothing, the healer pushed to his feet and left the gambler sitting alone with his cards.

*******

JD looked hopefully at Vin and the tracker nodded. With a look at Chris, JD slipped out, the tracker following him onto the boardwalk.

"I wanna talk to Ezra," the youngster remarked stubbornly. "Maybe he'll listen to me."

"Don't count on it, kid. He's pretty riled up over what Buck did."

"Well, it ain't worth them killin' each other," JD pointed out as they pushed open the batwings and entered the dim drinking hall.

Getting a reassuring nod from Tanner, JD moved to Ezra's table. "Uh, Ezra? Can I talk to you?" he asked nervously.

"Of course, JD." Standish waved him to the empty chair, glancing in Tanner's direction, but the Texan slouched against the center post support and came no closer, letting JD have privacy to say what he wanted, yet close enough for moral support if the kid needed it.

JD twisted his bowler hat in his hands. "The fellas told me what happened, Ezra and I'm really sorry."

"Pray tell why, Mister Dunne? You were not the one in the wagon."

"Well Buck's my friend, and I thought he was your friend too."

"I thought so, too," Ezra admitted.

"Then ya gotta know, it's just Buck. That's the way he is. He don't mean no harm and if he had known that lady knew you, he would have gone outta his way to leave her be. You gotta know that, Ezra. He just didn't know!" The young sheriff wasn’t aware he was making the same failed argument the healer had tried earlier.

"Ignorance is no excuse, JD," Ezra pointed out. "You will discover that sad fact yourself one of these days."

"But can't ya let it slide? Just this one time! Buck's real sorry and he'll apologize…"

Ezra shook his head. "I'm afraid not this time, JD. There's more involved here than a simple apology can mend."

"But it can, if you'd just let it!" JD cried.

Vin stepped closer, touching the kid's shoulder, "C'mon, JD."

"Ya could stop this if ya really wanted to!" Dunne pushed angrily to his feet. "Beginnin' ta think ya just wanna kill Buck!" Spinning, he ran from the building.

Vin looked at the gambler, shrugged slightly, and followed the younger man, ready to offer comfort should JD need it.

*******

It was getting late, closer to sunset when Josiah quietly slipped into the saloon and sat down across from the southerner. Folding his arms across his massive chest, he just sat staring at the younger man.

After several long silent moments, Ezra sighed and folded his cards, placing them on the table face down as he looked at the preacher. "And I suppose you are here to try and talk me out of this action as well?"

Josiah shook his head. "Nope. Just wanted to know if you fully understand the ramifications of what will happen when this is all said and done."

"Certainly, Mister Sanchez. One of us shall be dead."

"And you feel this is necessary to appease your injured honor?"

Ezra shook his head. "No, I feel it is necessary to teach Mister Wilmington a lesson."

The response confused Josiah and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the southerner. A simple glimmering ghosted across his mind but he refused to dwell on it. "You realize it would be a sin to destroy this friendship, don't you?"

"Mister Wilmington should have thought of that when he was sleeping with my wife to be. Certainly you do not condone fornication?"

"No, Ezra, I don't. But I don't just mean Buck's friendship and yours. I mean all of us…all seven of us. This will destroy everything we have struggled to build here. This family…."

Ezra wiggled a finger under the preacher's nose. "Your family, Mister Sanchez. I have always been the black sheep, the bastard child."

Josiah shook his head sadly, "That dog won't hunt and you know it, Ezra. You are one of us. You know we all trust you. As much as you permit us to," he added seriously.

Ezra started. The man was making sense. He only allowed their trust and their closeness to go so far before he began erecting high walled barriers against them. Except for Tanner. The quiet prankster of a Texan had become the closest friend he had. Had ever had for that matter.

"Ya know how much ya mean to me, Ezra...all six of you... You've all become my family and I don't want to lose any of you to stupidity. Ya know how Buck is around women... It's just his nature, like you and those cards. I ain't in any way sayin' you're wrong, or excusin' what he did. What I am sayin' is you're an intelligent man, Ezra, and we always have another choice... another path, if we only look for it." Sanchez leaned forward, staring at his surrogate son in earnest. "You will rethink this, won't you, Ezra, before it is too late?"

Standish nodded, "You have my word as a southern gentleman, Mister Sanchez, I shall give it my utmost consideration."

Realizing that was as good as he was going to get, Josiah pushed to his feet and left the gambler sitting alone.

*******

Of the men, only Chris did not approach the southerner. He sat outside the jail, sipping whiskey, watching as the sun slowly lowered in the hazy sky, wondering if he was shortly going to lose a friend.

He had known Buck Wilmington for …..Hell, since they were both too young or too brash to worry about the gravity of their actions. Of course, back then, neither of them had ever figured to live long. But in all those years he had constantly warned the womanizer his dalliances with women were going to catch up with him one day and there would be hell to pay. Buck, ever the optimist, had laughed it off, saying the only thing that really mattered was the enjoyment of the present day and the hell with what was in the future.

Chris blew out a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He had expected some irate husband to blow Buck into little bits long before this and of all the men he had known, he was having a hard time realizing it was Ezra Standish who might be doing that very thing.

Not that he blamed the southerner. He had seen the lady in question and besides being a lovely woman, the fact she was Ezra's fiancée only heightened the insult. Hell, he'd have stepped up and slapped the southerner upside the head himself if the man hadn't spoken up in defense of her honor. Then he would have taken the woman over his knee and paddled her behind but good.

He knew no one ever blamed the woman in such incidents, but Penelope was just as much at fault as Buck. No one could deny the womanizer wasn’t persistent, but Wilmington would never force himself on any woman, willing or otherwise. All she had to do was say no...

But that was neither here or there, he realized. The incident had happened and there was no taking it back. But Larabee knew Ezra was looking at the situation through a foggy haze of rage and would forever regret this day... if he lived past sundown.

No matter who ended up lying dead in the street, there would be no winner this day. The knowledge he'd taken the life of a friend would destroy the one man who would walk away.

He sighed again at the sound of boot steps on the boardwalk and looking around, saw the other men approaching, scowling as they gathered around him, their expressions telling him the stubborn southerner was hell bent on following through with this idiotic challenge.

"Ya really think Ezra is gonna go through with this, Chris?" JD questioned naively.

"Yep." Chris nodded. "If none of you could talk him out of it…."

"I wanna talk to Penelope," Buck proclaimed, turning and moving towards the hotel.

"Whoa, now, Bucklyn!" Vin's long strides caught up to the womanizer and he grabbed the bigger man's arm. "That ain't a good idea." He turned to Larabee, "Tell him that ain't a good idea, Chris."

"Buck, that ain't a good idea," Chris growled, fishing a cheroot from his pocket and striking a lucifer on the porch support to light it.

"Perhaps you should speak to Ezra," Josiah suggested, "see if he is in a better mood to accept an apology now."

"Yeah, I could." Buck started in the direction of the saloon again and Vin again grabbed his arm.

"Hey, Pard, maybe you better go unarmed. Ez won't shoot ya iffen ya ain't packin'." Hoping to lighten the mood, he added, "At least not till sundown."

Giving him a disgusted grimace, Wilmington unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to the Texan. "Hang on to this for me, Vin."

"I'll come with you, Buck." JD ran to join his friend.

"Me, too," Nathan offered, following as well.

Josiah exchanged looks with Vin and when the Texan made no move to follow the others, the preacher gave him a quick wink and trailed after them.

Larabee blew smoke into the air and watched it hang. "I'm gonna get another drink. Want one?"

Vin nodded, dropping into the empty chair as Chris retreated into the jail to retrieve the whiskey bottle and extra glass sitting on the desk.

*******

The four men shortly returned back across the street, Buck's face flushed, and the other men scowling in disgust.

"I don't believe it!" Nate proclaimed as they gathered around the tracker and the gunslinger who had returned to his seat after finding the whiskey staring at the still dusty street, the earlier rain having been greedily sucked up by the parched ground. "That stubborn jackass wouldn't even listen to what Buck has to say!"

"Well, Brother, you can't expect him to. Look at the grievous injury Buck has done to his honor. And his ego. Not ta mention his future..."

"What do ya mean his future?" JD pouted, angry with Buck for causing this mess and angrier with the southerner for not finding a way to end it that didn't include the loss of the family the young sheriff had found in Four Corners.

"Whether Ezra outdraws Buck or not, he loses. Every time he looks at his bride he'll only remember the fact he killed someone he cared about to defend her honor. She’ll be a constant reminder. Now Ezra's a strong man, but that's a helluva load to carry. If he calls it off, he'll only confirm what a lotta people in this town already think. That's asking a lot to forgive," Josiah pointed out. "I'm not even sure I could." He nudged Wilmington, "Sorry, Buck."

"Don't know if I can forgive myself." The womanizer nodded, the always present smile gone from his face. "Damn, I never dreamed something like this would happen," he mumbled. "I don't wanna shoot it out with Ez in the street."

"Well," Chris pushed to his feet and nodded across the way, "I'd say you have no choice in the matter."

The men all turned to focus on the sight of the southerner standing on the saloon boardwalk, Penelope at his side. He had removed his fancy jacket and stood buttoning his vest and smoothing down his shirt sleeves. As they watched, he pulled his gun from its holster and checked the loads before returning it to the leather. Puffing on a short cigar, he eyed the sinking sun.

"Well, Pard, I'd say it's face him or show yella," Vin muttered, holding out Buck's gun belt.

With a growl, the womanizer grabbed it and threw it about his waist, hastily buckling it into place. Pulling the weapon, spinning the chamber, he dropped it back into its place and blowing out a deep breath, he looked at each of the men. Realizing he had run out of talk, he gave them all a tight smile and stepped off the boardwalk.

"Don't do this Buck," JD begged. "No one'll think you're yella. They all know better. Please, Buck!"

"Sorry, kid," Wilmington knocked the stupid bowler hat he so hated from the youngster's head, hoping the kid would remember him with fondness. "Sorry ‘bout this whole mess." Giving the preacher a grateful nod when Josiah placed a big hand on the young sheriff's shoulder, Buck turned and moved in Ezra's direction.

Unsure what they should do as the two men stepped into the street, the others looked to Larabee, expecting him to put a stop to it. Wilmington was his oldest friend and they knew Ezra respected the shootist enough to follow his wishes if Chris asked the southerner to back down.

Larabee was torn. Damn, he wanted to stop this! He didn't want to stand here and watch a member of his new family die needlessly, but he also knew he didn't have the right. No matter, it was between Ezra and Buck, and it was their call.

Chris' scowl deepened as the tracker quietly moved out into the street, positioning himself midway between the two men who stood facing each other. Damnit! Didn't the dumbass know a wild shot could strike him if he stayed there? But then Chris realized there would be no wild shots from these two and it showed Tanner's depth of trust in them. Perhaps, seeing the sharpshooter, knowing there was a chance he could die as well at one of their hands, the two fools would have a change of heart.

As he pitched away the stub of his cheroot, the shootist caught Josiah's eye and his scowl deepened even further at the expression on the preacher's face. The damn idiot was actually smiling!

Seeing Chris' dark look, the older man gave him a wink and turned back to the action in the street.

"Ezra, I don't wanna do this--" Buck began.

"Nor do I, Mister Wilmington, but sometimes, a man isn't given a choice in the actions he takes in life." He motioned towards the men on the boardwalk. "I hope your friends will not choose retribution against me for your demise."

JD turned to Josiah, whispering loudly, "What's he mean?"

"He don't want us to shoot him for shooting Buck."

Nathan snorted. "We'll see about that."

Taking one last draw on his cigar, Ezra threw it aside. Turning to Penelope, he gave her a gentle kiss and watched as she moved to the side, standing next to Vin. Then, giving those two a sad little smile, he looked at Buck, his stance and body language indicating he was ready. "Any time, Mister Wilmington…."

Buck, still at a loss, looked at his companions, and seeing no answers, squared his shoulders. "Sorry about this, Ez," he called out again.

"So you've said repeatedly," Ezra drawled.

"Awww, hell….." With no further words, Buck drew and fired.

The gambler anticipated his move and the two shots sounded as one. Both men froze, then Ezra's face paled and he clutched at his chest.

Penelope let out a terrified scream and, despite Vin's attempts to stop her, scrambled to the man's side as he fell.

Larabee's stomach twisted into knots. He'd been certain Wilmington was outmatched and was just as certain he'd just witnessed Ezra commit suicide using Wilmington's weapon. Chris had seen the gambler's fast draw. He was damn near as fast as the black clad gunslinger himself, and was a helluva lot faster than Buck.

Buck stood white faced, staring at the fallen man, then at the smoking gun in his hand. With a disgusted sob, he pitched it aside where it landed in the dust of the street. "Damn, he made me do it," he half sobbed, his expression horror stricken, his words choked. "He actually made me do it!"

Penelope hovered over Ezra, then grabbing the gun from his unresisting grasp; she spun to her feet and ran at Buck, the gun leveled at him. "You bastard----!!!!!!!!!!!" she screamed, as she pulled the trigger, repeatedly, emptying the gun of the remaining bullets.

Buck lurched, stunned, grabbing at his chest, and realized seconds later, there was no blood, no pain and he wasn't hit. A frown furrowed his brow as she fired again from only feet away.

The gathered crowd exchanged puzzled looks.

Vin had moved over beside the gambler's still body lying in the dirt of the street, his head bowed in apparent sorrow, his shoulders quivering in what the observers could only believe were sobs. Hunkering down beside the lifeless form, he looked up with mischievous eyes as Josiah stood over him.

A smile split the gray haired man's face as he saw the tracker was nearly convulsing not with sobs, but with laughter and as he looked at the gambler lying so deathly still in the dust, he saw one green eye pop open, and heard a lowly whispered drawl question, "Did I hit him?"

Vin had a lop sided grin that grew. "Nope. Ya best stick with yer cards, pard."

"Damn." The dead body swore softly.

Chris, watching in confusion, stormed out into the street, scattering any and all on lookers. "What the hell is going on?" he bellowed.

"Oh, shit!" Ezra groaned, closing his eye and laying perfectly still.

"Retribution, Brothers," Josiah muttered, patting the smaller man's shoulder as Chris shoved him aside and bent over the southerner's prone body.

"Is he dead?" he questioned Vin, who shrugged and looked away, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

Chris focused on Josiah who also looked away. "Nathan, if Buck ain't hurt, get your ass over here and check Ezra!"

"Don't think that's necessary, Cowboy," Vin drawled, choking on the words. "Ezra done told Nathan they wouldn't be needin' him t’day."

"Don't tell me they're both lousy shots! I saw Ezra hit! Ain't too late unless he's dead." Chris stated, and praying the con man could be saved, reached out to rip open the gambler's vest and shirt to check for bullet holes.

A strong hand reached up and grasped his wrist. "Not my favorite shirt, Mister Larabee."

Chris back pedaled into Nathan who stumbled sideways into JD, knocking the smaller man into Buck as they cautiously approached the southerner's body.

"What in the hell….?" Buck demanded.

Vin hunkered down beside Ezra and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Guess the jig’s up, Pard."

Ezra cracked one eye in his direction, "Ya reckon?" he questioned in a perfect imitation of the Texan's drawl.

"Yep, I reckon." Glancing at Josiah beside him, the tracker and preacher reached down and hoisted the southerner to his feet. An undamaged, seriously lacking in bullet holes undamaged body.

As they released their grasp, with a sigh, Ezra dusted the dirt from his clothes before straightening to face Larabee's glare.

"You better have a damn good explanation as to why you aren't dead!" Chris growled loud enough for everyone on the street to hear.

Ezra scrunched up his face as if in fierce concentration. "Mister Wilmington is a lousy shot?"

"My shootin's got nothing to do with this! I aimed right at you!" Buck defended himself, immediately realizing how stupid the statement sounded, even in his own ears.

"Awww, then you admit you really attempted to kill me?" Ezra questioned.

"You were shooting at me!" Buck protested, looking at his friends to back him up. "This whole damn thing was your doin'!"

"Damnit! I wanna know why Ezra ain't dead!" Chris bellowed again. He rounded on Vin, "You!….You know what's going on, don't you?"

Vin pulled a look of pure innocence outta the air and plastered it on his scruffy face. "Me?"

"Yes you, you sly weasel!" Turning from the tracker, he grabbed the front of Ezra's shirt and hauled him up until they were nose to nose, "And you…. You're the biggest weasel of all! Ya been givin' Tanner lessons, ain't ya?"

"Awww, hell, Chris, let 'im go. We's just havin' fun," Vin finally admitted, fearing the gunslinger would release his adrenaline charged tension on the gambler.

"Fun? Shooting Buck in the street is your idea of fun?" That throbbing vein in Chris' forehead was working over time. Looking around in total frustration, he saw the town folks gathered around and growled, "Get them gawkin' idiots off the street," as he literally dragged Ezra towards the jail. "And you," he pinned Vin with a glare, "bring your skinny ass along coz I ain't done with you either!"

Pushing Ezra ahead of him into the jail and then shoving Vin in as well, Chris stormed in after them, pausing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. "All right! I want to know who came up with this lame brained idiotic idea. Ezra, it had to be you." He glared at the southerner who slouched down on the corner of the wooden desk, tugging at his shirt cuffs and looking for all the world like a child caught with his hand in the out of bounds cookie jar.

But it was Vin, who slouched down on the other end of the desk, who responded. "It all started when Miz Travis got---"

Chris' glower deepened. "Leave Mary outta this!"

Josiah laid a hand on Larabee's arm as the others pushed past him, crowding into the small building. "Let him explain, Brother."

Growling under his breath, Chris abruptly nodded and Vin started again.

"Ya see, Miz Travis got this box of books from some lady back East, fer the kids, ya know, and me and Ez was helpin' her unpack 'em. I seen this book and Ez got talkin' 'bout the story. See, this Emper’r-- that's like a king -- wanted a new wardrobe... Fool had more clothes than ol' Ez there... Anyway, this emper’r wanted somethin' special like ‘nd some tailor convinced him he’d make him some invis'ble clothes. That fool idiot paraded through town in them new clothes a his, but truth was, he wasn't wearin' a stitch at all.”

"You done corrupted Vin!" Chris growled, taking a menacing step towards the gambler.

"I did nothing of the kind!" Ezra spoke up defending himself. "We simply began discussing how a con is simply allowing someone to believe and accept as fact something we know isn't true." He gave a small smile. "In this case, an intended wife and a shoot out."

"Why me?" Buck interjected, frowning.

"Why not you, Mister Wilmington? Mister Dunne is far too naïve to dupe, Mister Jackson is far too suspicious of any actions I might undertake, Mister Sanchez would believe no matter what I did for he is far too trusting-"

Josiah ducked his head, hiding a smile. He had deduced the two were up to some prank, but hadn't been sure how or why.

"-and only a total fool with no regard for his own life would attempt to perpetrate a con on Mister Larabee." He shrugged, "So you see, that left only you, Mister Wilmington. And I believe this more than evens the score for all the lame practical jokes you've attempted to perpetrate against Mister Tanner and myself."

The womanizer frowned, "Then Penelope ain't your fiancée?"

"No, Buck, she works for Ez's ma." The sharpshooter laughed. "If ya'd been thinkin' with somethin’ other the area b'low yer belt buckle, ya'd wondered when exactly Ezra went and got hisself hooked."

"She's a swindler, too?" Buck blurted out.

Ezra laughed at the look of dismay on the jovial man's face. "No, Mister Wilmington, she is not --as you say --a swindler. She is my mother's dress maker, from Denver. I merely hired her to play a part--"

Buck interrupted, "Is she married? Got a pissed off fiancée or jealous beau hanging around?"

"I do not believe so. I can not be--"

Any further words were lost as the womanizer made a hasty dash for the door, everything forgotten except the pretty young woman who was still standing on the boardwalk.

Vin flashed a bright smile, "I guess ol' Bucklyn's 'bout ta fergive her fer tryin' ta shoot 'im."

"Speaking of which, how did she not hit him? She was shooting right at him." Nathan questioned.

Vin smiled at that. "Ez's gun was loaded with them fancy noisemaker blanks he was using that day we all met up in the saloon."

"But, Buck--" JD began.

"His, too."

"How?" JD demanded to know.

"'Member he handed me his gun belt when he went ta talk to Ez in the saloon? I switched shells." Vin admitted.

Chris straightened from where he'd leaned against the wall, letting the rough wood support limbs that had gone weak with relief and with arms folded across his chest, his glare blinding, he focused on the two perpetrators. "Think yer both real clever, don't ya? Ya know what Buck went through, what we all went through thinkin' there was gonna be a killin' in the street? I oughta horsewhip ya both!"

"But ya won't," Vin responded smugly.

"And why won't I?" Chris demanded.

"Cause we's jist tryin' ta teach Bucklyn a lesson….Somethin' ya ain't been able to do in years," the sharpshooter pointed out, his lopsided grin widening. "Looks like it worked too... Least this time he took a minute ta ask iffen she was attached afore he went flyin' outta here like a cat with his tail on fire." He stated rather smugly, garnering a cutting glare from Larabee.

"Well, Brother Ezra, all I gotta say is Maude would be downright proud of you," Josiah said softly, clapping a large hand on the younger man's shoulder, unable to prevent a smile as, stepping out on the boardwalk, they all watched Wilmington escorting Penelope in the direction of the hotel. "Ya had us all goin'."

Nathan shook his head in exasperation. "Looks like ol' Buck's plannin' on gettin rewarded for bein' your target." He sighed, thinking, 'That man would never learn.'

"I'm afraid Mister Wilmington is going to find his animal magnetism somewhat lacking. Miss Hewlett isn't quite as... willing... to relinquish her virtue as she led him to believe," the gambler commented with a dimpled grin. "I would hazard to say Buck is in for a rather… shall we say -- frustrating night."

As the other men moved off, shaking their heads, Tanner nudged the gunslinger. "Believe ya owe me a beer, Pard! Told ya there was gonna be trouble steppin' off that stage."

"But ya didn't tell me you arranged that trouble," Chris groused, following after the sharpshooter.

"That’s ‘cause ya never bothered ta ask." Vin grinned, settling into his chair in front of the saloon, his smile widening even further as Larabee, muttering under his breath, moved inside to get their beers.

The tracker looked around the street, nodding to himself. He’s right…. That storm brewed up by him and Ez hadn’t been more than a little dust up after all, but if they really set their minds to it, in good time, he was sure they could come up with a real Texas twister….

THE END