Facing The Consequences

PART 1

The night air was cold, and there was a biting wind blowing as Vin Tanner made his final round of the town for the evening.

"You owe me, JD," he muttered, his breath frosting before his face as he blew on his fingers. As he passed the brightly lit window of the saloon, he cast an envious glance inside. With the exception of JD, he knew his other friends were sitting inside, cosy and warm, and free from the worries of protecting Four Corners whilst he was out on patrol. With a sigh the Texan turned his jacket collar up around his ears, and carried on walking.

It was early spring, and the days were beginning to get a little warmer and brighter now, but the nighttime still held a hint of frost and the promise of storms yet to come. There had been some torrential rain over the last week or so, but that had stopped earlier in the day and the evening was dry, for which Vin was truly grateful.

The weather had been too inclement, and the streets so muddy that only a few hardy souls had ventured out this evening, and they had ignored Vin as they hurried towards one of the saloons or to their homes. But it didn't worry him - all he wanted to do was get finished and join his friends.

The tracker stepped off the sidewalk and headed back towards the Livery Stable, deciding to make one last check of the area before he went along to the saloon for his supper and a well-earned drink.

There were a couple of horses in the corral to the side of the stable, and he rattled the latch on the gate, making sure it was fastened properly before turning and making his way back. He had only gone a few paces when the sound of pounding feet made him stop, and he dropped his hand onto the butt of his sawn-off Winchester, ready for action should it be needed.

"Senor! Please - help!"

The young Mexican came running from the darkness between the stable and the saddle shop at the edge of town, and skidded to a halt in front of the startled Texan, breathing hard.

"Whoa! What's up?"

"Please - the gringos - they have my sister!"

The young man appeared genuinely distressed, and Vin rested a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Slow down. Just tell me where they are."

"Down there."

The Mexican pointed to the darkened alley, and for a moment the tracker hesitated. Self-preservation made him naturally cautious, and his gun was only halfway from its holster when a piercing scream rent the air.

"Dammit!"

Vin swore heatedly as the cry was suddenly choked off, and the Mexican clutched at his sleeve, dragging him forward. He needed no urging now; some woman was obviously in trouble, and he didn't stop to think about the consequences.

He paused briefly at the entrance of the alley, bringing his gun to waist height as he saw the two shadowy figures moving within. Ignoring the Mexican behind him, he stepped forward boldly, calling out a challenge.

"Hold it right there!"

His words were reinforced by the ominous click as he thumbed back the hammer on his Winchester, and the two men straightened up, standing over the still form on the ground.

"Don't shoot!" The man nearest to the tracker raised his hands in the air and turned to face him. "It wasn't me."

"Get away from her," Vin growled. "Both of you!"

He could see now that the motionless figure sprawled in the dirt was a woman, and he took another cautious step forward as her two assailants backed away. Keeping his gun trained on them, he crouched down beside the victim and froze!

"What the...?" His gasp of shock died on his lips as he realised this was no Mexican girl. Her pale features and blonde hair indicated her origins as being north of the border and, judging by the daring cut of her silky dress, he guessed she was from one of the saloons in town.

Glancing up at the two men, he saw the knowing look on their faces, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had walked straight into a trap with all the naivety of a greenhorn!

Vin heard footsteps closing behind him, and too late he remembered the third man, the 'distraught' brother. He had only partially turned when something hard caught him a vicious blow to the side of his head, and he collapsed beside the woman, the Winchester slipping from limp fingers.

"Good job, Carlos." The first man grinned at the Mexican as he dropped the axe handle next to the unconscious Texan. "Now - go get the wagon."

As the Mexican scurried into the darkness behind the Livery Stable the second man pulled a length of rawhide from his vest pocket. Squatting down, he yanked the tracker's wrists together and fastened them tightly.

"The boss sure had him figgered right," he commented, giving the cord a savage jerk. "That was a whole heap easier than I thought."

"We were lucky," the first man pointed out. "You'd better gag him as well - we don't want him yelling out for no-one." He glanced around quickly, checking for any witnesses. "Come on - let's get out of here before someone comes looking for him."

Nobody paid any attention to the two men who rode out of town a few minutes later, nor to the wagon that followed at a discreet distance. A filthy tarpaulin was flung over the back, hiding the bound and gagged form of the Texan from any prying eyes.

Back in the dark alleyway, the body of the unfortunate saloon girl was already growing cold, and her sightless eyes glazed over in death.

It was well after midnight when the wagon finally came to a stop, and Vin closed his eyes with a sigh of relief.

Several times over the past hour the tracker had roused slightly, but the bone-jarring ride in the smothering darkness and the pain in his head made him feel nauseous and dizzy, and he had slipped in and out of consciousness. Now, the cessation of motion had brought him round again and he lay quietly, listening to the muted conversation around him and conserving what little strength he had.

His first thought was escape; he had no idea why he had been taken from Four Corners, but the obvious assumption was that it had something to do with the five hundred dollar bounty on his head. However, that didn't explain the wanton killing of the saloon girl, nor the manner in which he had been snatched.

Taking a deep breath, Vin wriggled over onto his back, surprised to discover that his feet weren't tied. Obviously his assailants had left Four Corners in some haste, otherwise they would not have overlooked such an omission. The tracker eased his way down towards the tailgate of the wagon; he might be bound, gagged, and outnumbered, but he had no intention of making it any easier for his captors. Reaching up, he managed to get a couple of fingers under the gag and pull it down, thankful that the cloying material at least was out of his mouth.

"He sure is quiet in there. I hope you didn't hit 'im too hard, Carlos."

The comment came from beside the wagon, almost level with Vin's head, and the tracker froze in his task of trying to use his teeth on the rawhide, holding his breath as he considered his next move.

"Na - it was only a little tap."

Vin recognised the voice of the Mexican who had lured him into the alley, and he felt a brief flicker of anger at himself for falling so easily into their trap.

"You'd better be right. The boss needs him alive."

Those two short sentences sent a chill down the Texan's spine. The reward on him was payable 'dead or alive', but if the man who had hired these three needed him alive, then it probably had nothing to do with the bounty. There was a moment's silence as he thought this over, and then he heard the sound of horses being lead away.

"I'd better see if he's still breathing," a third voice said, and Vin drew his knees up, ready to take any chance that was offered to him.

As the tarpaulin was flung back, he lashed out with both feet, hearing a pain-filled yell and feeling the satisfying contact with soft, yielding flesh. Scrambling forward, ignoring the figure that reeled away from him with blood streaming from his face, he glanced about wildly. Knowing his only real means of escape lay on horseback, he made a dash for one of the two saddle-horses being lead away by the Mexican. As he made a move for the nearest animal, an urgent shout sounded in his ears.

"No - don't shoot!"

The tracker flinched as a shot rang out, but the bullet came nowhere near him. However, the sudden report startled the horses, and they skittered away from him as he made a grab for the saddle horn, leaving him stranded almost in mid leap, unable to prevent himself crashing against the side of the horse he was trying to mount. He didn't get a second chance.

Rough hands grabbed at his collar and shoulder, and he was dragged backwards, sprawling on the ground at the feet of his captor. He glanced up briefly into the face of the man who had taken the full force of his kick, and he saw his own death in those furious eyes.

Desperately he rolled away, trying to avoid the foot that was aimed at his ribs, but he only partially succeeded. The toe caught him a glancing blow, scraping painfully across his chest as he continued moving, finally coming to a stop almost beneath the dancing feet of the nervous horses.

"Get 'em out of the way, Carlos!" a voice yelled, as the tracker struggled to his knees, iron-shod hooves stamping down dangerously close to his body. One of the animals reared, its front hooves catching him a numbing blow across the ribs before the Mexican brought it under control and lead it away, and he sprawled headlong. He thought he heard something crack as the breath was driven from his body, and he lay there gasping as white-hot pain spread across his chest. He offered only a token fight as he was hauled unceremoniously to his feet, and then even that little resistance was knocked out of him as a vicious backhanded blow spun him around, and he crumpled to the dirt, too battered and dazed to fight any more.

A hand fastened on the front of his jacket and started to pull him up, and he raised his hands to his face, ready to ward off the expected blow. It never came.

"Leave him, Farrell!" warned the first man, a note of authority in his voice. "The boss won't be very happy if he's dead."

For a few moments Vin hung in the other's clutches, then he was slammed roughly against the ground where he remained, trying unsuccessfully to catch his breath. He could taste the blood in his mouth and feel it trickling down his chin, his whole body aching as his ribs throbbed in time with the pounding of his head.

"Why's he so special, anyway?" snapped Farrell, still standing over the fallen Texan.

"We don't get paid to ask questions. We just get paid to follow orders, and that's good enough for me. Now - tie him to that wagon wheel, and we can all get some rest."

The man walked away and Farrell leaned down, catching hold of the tracker's bound wrists.

"Move!" he growled, barely giving Vin the chance to get his feet under him as he dragged him towards the wagon. Thrusting him back against the wheel, Farrell pulled out his knife. For a brief moment the Texan thought the man was going to use it on him, despite the warning, but he just sliced through the rawhide around Vin's wrists. The tracker's fingers pulsed painfully as full circulation was restored, but he had no time to appreciate it before his arms were forced behind his back, and his hands were tied around the spokes of the wheel.

"There - that'll hold you," Farrell growled, dragging the dirty gag back up around Vin's mouth. Then, without warning, he grabbed a handful of the tracker's hair, yanking his head up painfully until their eyes met. Vin tried to stare him down, but he didn't have the strength left for it. "Just be thankful you're so valuable. Otherwise... " He let the words trail off ominously, leaving the Texan in no doubts about his feelings.

Vin closed his eyes tiredly, trying to bring his breathing under control. If he took slow, shallow breaths his ribs didn't protest too much. However, he could do nothing to alleviate the pressure caused by having his wrists fastened behind his back. The pull of bruised muscles was a constant ache, and he let his head sag back against the wagon wheel.

Sleep was going to be a rare luxury for him this night, as he wondered how the hell he was going to get out of this mess.

+ + + + + + +

Bang, bang, bang!

Nathan Jackson opened his eyes with a start, wondering whether he was dreaming, or if the hammering on his door was for real.

The banging on the clinic door sounded again, accompanied by a raised voice, the tone urgent, and the healer scrambled out of bed, fumbling around in the semi-darkness for his pants and shirt.

"Just a minute," he called out, pulling on his boots. "Who is it?"

"It's me - Tiny."

Nathan opened the door, and regarded the man from the Livery Stable. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"You'd best come quick! There's a girl - I think she might be dead!"

Jackson needed no second telling. Snatching up his medical bag, he followed the big, blond-haired man down the stairs and around to the back of the stables.

The sun was just nudging its way up over the horizon, but there was sufficient light to see the still form lying motionless at the end of the alley. Tiny hesitated a few feet from the body of the saloon girl, sprawled inelegantly against the far wall, but Nathan stepped forward and knelt down beside her. It didn't need a qualified physician, or even a town healer, to see that she was dead, and he reached out to close her sightless eyes with a heavy sigh.

"Go find Chris and the others," he told Tiny, without looking up. The man hurried away at Nathan's suggestion, leaving the healer to make a quick examination of the body. Pulling back the folds of the heavy cloak that was wrapped around her shoulders, he checked for any obvious signs of a wound. There was no blood anywhere, so he pushed back the soft blonde hair, drawing a sharp breath when he saw the marks around her throat.

"Nathan?"

The healer looked up startled; he wasn't aware that Chris and Buck had arrived until the gunslinger spoke.

"She's been strangled. Near as I can figger sometime late last night."

Chris stood looking down over Nathan's shoulder, and his face grew hard. "Does anybody know who she is?"

"I believe she may have worked at Digger Dan's." The comment came from Ezra, referring to the saloon across town as he joined the other three.

"Alright. Maybe you'd better find someone who knows for sure," Chris told the gambler, but before the Southerner could leave Buck leaned forward, a frown on his face.

"Did you say she'd been strangled, Nathan?" he asked.

"It looks that way. Why?"

The ladies man reached down and picked up an object partially hidden by the body. "So what's this doing here?" he asked, holding up an axe handle between his thumb and forefinger. "And what's that?"

The healer took the length of timber and studied the end of it closely. "It looks like blood to me," he stated, passing the handle to Chris.

"Any other marks on her?" the gunslinger asked, looking at the rust-coloured stain on the wood.

"Nope - not that I can see."

"So whose blood is it?"

Buck's frown became more anxious as he glanced at the other three men in turn. "JD had the late round last night," he said slowly. "And I ain't seen him yet this morning."

"That's 'cos I swapped with Vin."

The statement made them all turn as the youngest peacekeeper came up behind them accompanied by Josiah.

"Why'd you do that?" Buck sounded relieved as he made the demand.

"So's I could see Casey," JD replied. "Vin was okay with it - and Miss Nettie asked - " The young man stopped as he caught sight of the body, and he turned an enquiring face to the gunslinger. Josiah reached down and pulled the cloak across the dead girl's face, crossing himself as he straightened up.

"And all shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven," he said softly.

"Did anybody else see Mr. Tanner last night after he finished his rounds?"

Ezra's question took them all by surprise, and they looked blankly at each other.

"Yeah! I - " Buck paused, frowned, and then shook his head. "Come to think of it - no. He's usually in the saloon like everyone else, but not last night."

"Has anybody seen him this morning?" Josiah asked.

"His horse is still here," put in Tiny, having overheard the last part of the conversation. "And his wagon's empty. I checked before I come looking for you."

The liveryman's words surprised them all, and it was Chris who voiced the thought that had suddenly leapt into all of their minds.

"So where the hell is he?"

+ + + + + + +

By midday, all the peacekeepers had was an overwhelming sense of frustration. They were no nearer knowing why the saloon girl had been killed - and Vin Tanner seemed to have vanished without trace!

The entire morning had proven to be almost fruitless; the only thing that had been established with any certainty was the girl's name and place of employ. As Ezra had speculated, Lucy Harris did indeed work at Digger Dan's saloon, but no-one could remember seeing her with any particular customer the previous evening. Although she had only worked at the place for a few months she was popular with the other girls and customers alike, and no-one could see any reason for her death.

A motiveless crime was always difficult to solve, but Vin's mysterious disappearance was even harder for his friends to fathom. None of them could recall seeing him after six o'clock except JD, who had spoken to him just before riding out to Nettie Wells' farm. According to the young peacekeeper, Vin had seemed relaxed and cheerful - in fact, his normal self.

Now, as they adjourned to the jailhouse to consider their next move, they were joined by Mary Travis. Officially she was there to report on the killing, and to get some first-hand information for the newspaper, but in reality she was just as worried about Vin's disappearance as the others were.

"So what do you think really happened?" she asked Chris, closing her notepad.

"Why ask me?" he snapped, and instantly regretted his words when he saw the look on her face. He had no cause to take his frustration out on Mary; he knew how she felt about Vin - how she felt about all of them - and she didn't deserve his anger. "Sorry," he apologised, much to her surprise. Just then Josiah, who had been leaning against the wall by the window, straightened up and peered outside.

"We got company, Chris," he said softly.

The rest of them could hear it now; the faint murmur of voices, followed by footsteps on the boardwalk and a sharp knock on the door.

Chris stepped forward and swung it open quickly, feeling a certain sense of satisfaction as a townsman scuttled back nervously. The gunslinger stepped out and stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, knowing, without needing to look, that the other five were right behind him. He regarded the small crowd intently.

"What d'you want?" he asked, his voice deceptively mild. There was a faint muttering, and some shuffling of feet, and then one person, braver than the rest, called out.

"We want to know what you're doing about this killer."

Under normal circumstances, the people of Four Corners were placid and law-abiding but, given the right kind of incentive, they could become brave and forceful when the need bound them together.

"Yeah, I heard the poor girl was strangled," called another voice.

"My, my! You're showing a remarkable amount of concern for a mere saloon girl." Ezra's mocking comment went way over their heads.

"It might be a saloon girl this time," said a man at the front, his courage bolstered by the crowd at his back. "But it could just as easily be my wife or daughter next time. Why aren't you doing anything?"

"Maybe they don't want to."

The comment sent a sudden hush over the crowd, and Chris' eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

There was a long silence, eventually broken by some foolhardy soul.

"Well, we've heard that Tanner's left town. Why's he running?"

Standing just behind the peacekeepers, Mary saw the way Chris tensed at the blatant accusation, and she knew it was only a question of time before the situation got out of hand. Pushing past Buck, she stopped beside the gunslinger.

"How can you say such a thing, Horace Oakes? At the moment Vin is just missing. We don't know where he is."

"Well, you would say that!" yelled a voice from the back. "Just 'cos he's a friend of yours don't mean he's innocent!"

Mary didn't realise Chris had moved until she saw the crowd parting before him. Buck and Josiah followed him off of the sidewalk, catching hold of him as he reached for the man who had made the comment.

"Leave him, Chris. He's not worth it," the ladies man said, gripping his friend's shoulders. Buck caught the full force of the Larabee glare, but the gunslinger reluctantly released the man's shirt and allowed him to back away hurriedly. Without another comment, he turned on his heel and stormed back into the jail, slamming the door behind him.

"You folks best be getting about your business now," Nathan told the crowd, effectively dismissing them, and they started to move slowly away. Mary hesitated, looking first at the closed door, and then at the peacekeepers. Deciding that discretion was the best course of action at the moment, she melted away with the rest of the townsfolk.

Ezra stood at the edge of the sidewalk, his expression thoughtful and, as Buck and the others went into the Sheriffs Office, he caught hold of Josiah's sleeve.

"A moment please," he said quietly, so no-one else could hear. The ex-preacher paused, waiting for Ezra to continue. The gambler wasn't quite sure how to phrase his next comment; whilst he didn't believe what the crowd were saying about Vin, his own self-doubts and insecurity made him consider every option, no matter how distasteful. "How do we know they're not right?"

Josiah didn't answer, but his look said it all.

+ + + + + + +

For some time now, Vin seemed to have been drifting in and out of a waking nightmare - and he wasn't sure that it was over yet.

His first conscious thought as he started to come to was that he was no longer bouncing along in the wagon. Other sensations took precedence now; pain, cold, and thirst vied for his attention as he started to become aware of his surroundings.

Slowly opening his eyes, he blinked frantically several times, but the darkness remained. For a heart stopping moment he thought he had gone blind, but then the awful truth hit him as his eyes adjusted to the blackness around him. His heart began to pound as he tried to control his fear and, despite the chill seeping into his bones, sweat trickled down his forehead as he realised he was shut in a small, dark room.

He was sitting on the floor, a cold stone wall at his back, and his hands were still tied, but now they were fastened to something just above his head, and the strain made his shoulders and ribs ache. In front of him he could just see a faint outline, less black than the rest, which he assumed was a door but, no matter how hard he listened, he couldn't hear any other sign of life.

Taking a steadying breath, the tracker tried to think clearly. He had no idea where he was, nor even what time of day it was; the last thing he remembered was being bundled back into the wagon the morning after his abortive escape attempt, and he didn't know how far they had travelled to reach this place.

This place.

Where was he? His mind drifted back to the events leading up to his capture, and he ruled out bounty hunters. Even the most desperate of individuals wouldn't have killed a saloon girl just to get to him.

And who was the mysterious 'boss'?

The more he thought about it, the more his head ached. Every time he moved, his body protested, sore ribs and muscles making it difficult for him to think clearly and, as he contemplated the place in which he was being held, the knot of fear in his stomach grew tighter.

Breathing hard, Vin tried to quell the rising nausea, but failed miserably. Even though he couldn't see them, he could feel the walls closing in on him, and he leaned back, shutting his eyes against the irrational fear that was pushing him towards the brink of panic. He pulled against the rope, testing his bonds, but all he succeeded in doing was aggravating the injury to his ribs, and he gave a gasp of pain, sagging back against the wall as the darkness swooped in on him. In his present state of mind it was easier to let it come, to take the simple option for now and worry about the consequences later.

Vin's head drooped against his chest, and he allowed himself to sink into the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.

But even that brief respite was interrupted all too quickly – or so it seemed.

The Texan wasn't quite sure what it was that had dragged him from his uneasy rest; it may have been the sound of footsteps outside, or the key turning in the lock, but as the door swung open, he was awake, if not fully aware.

The glare from the lantern was almost more than the tracker could bear, his eyes watering with the sudden brightness, and he turned his face away as a man entered the room. Through slitted eyes he saw the shadowy form place the lamp on a small table, but tears blurred his vision as he tried to identify the figure behind the first man. He could only wait helplessly as the person came forward, and then crouched down in front of him, reaching out to grasp his chin painfully and force his face up.

"Hello Vin," said a voice he recognised, the sibilant tones sending a shiver of apprehension down his spine.

At that moment the Texan knew he was going to die.

+ + + + + + +

Chris Larabee stirred and groaned, closing his eyes tightly against the harsh sunlight that fell across his face. His head was pounding, and his mouth felt like the inside of a barn as he turned over and tried to go back to sleep, but to no avail.

Now that he was awake his body made its demands felt, and the call of nature grew stronger. With a resigned groan he prised his eyelids slowly open again, and stared in amazement at the bars in front of his face. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering where the hell he was, and then he remembered.

He and the others had spent most of the previous afternoon continuing the search for information about the killing of Lucy Harris and, more importantly to them, the whereabouts of Vin Tanner. After the confrontation with the townspeople, he had sent Nathan and JD to check on the trails to the north and west of the town, while he and Buck made another careful study of the area around the Livery Stable.

They had found tracks of a wagon, with several horses tethered close by, behind the stable which, whilst not particularly unusual, was the only significant sign they had. They followed them for several miles out of town, until they mingled with so many other signs that they lost them altogether, curtailing that, probably pointless, lead. They had also made enquiries at some of the outlying homesteads, to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything unusual, or noticed any strangers hanging around, but no-one could help them.

As they had ridden back into town, late in the afternoon, they were no nearer finding out what had happened. When their mounts were settled at the Livery, they had adjourned to the saloon to find that Nathan and JD were already back, deep in conversation with Josiah and Ezra. It was obvious from the look on their faces, and the way they were picking at their supper, that they had had no more success than Chris and Buck.

Their plates were finally snatched away by an indignant Inez, muttering comments about 'the ingratitude of men' as she watched them toying with the hot meal she had prepared especially for them. The bottle of whiskey that Chris asked her for was slammed on the table in front of him, along with some glasses, and the six men spent the next half an hour discussing what they had learned over the course of the day, which wasn't very much.

It was Nathan who suggested that maybe Chris and Buck should continue the search for Vin the next day, whilst the others kept a presence in Four Corners. As he pointed out, the people were scared and worried, and they needed to see that the peacekeepers were at least doing something. It was after that, when JD and Ezra went to make their rounds, that the gunslinger's recollection got a little bit hazy.

As he sat up and perched on the edge of the cot in the cell, Chris dropped his head into his hands. This wasn't the first time he had finished up sleeping off his excesses in a jail, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but there were things to be done today and he needed a clear head. Pushing himself up, he stumbled through into the outer office, where he found a remarkably alert looking Buck lounging in the chair with his feet up on the desk, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Well, it's about time you finally surfaced, stud," the ladies man commented, eyeing his friend with a rueful grin.

"What time is it?" the gunslinger asked, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

"A little after ten. Coffee?"

"Yeah! I just need - " With that Chris disappeared through the back door, returning a few minutes later looking a little less queasy, and with his face and hair damp from his quick ablutions in the nearest trough. Collapsing into the chair opposite Buck, he took the cup that was handed to him, noticing for the first time the graze across the knuckles of his right hand.

"Okay - who'd I hit?" he asked, flexing his fingers carefully as he sipped at the scalding beverage, and Buck gave a little smile.

"Not who - what," he corrected. "It was the wall," he went on, seeing the other's confusion. "It would have been me, 'cept over the years I've learnt to duck!"

Chris frowned as he regarded his friend over the rim of the cup, and then his expression cleared as he remembered what had set him off. They had been three quarters of the way through the second bottle of whiskey when the gunslinger took exception to the sidelong looks they were getting from some of the other customers. From then on things just went from bad to worse.

When Chris demanded to know what they were staring at, one upstanding member of the community who, like the gunslinger, was a little the worse for the grain, made the mistake of answering back. It took all of Buck's strength to hold his black-dressed friend back, making the comment that he could understand their feelings. In their position, he might have the same doubts himself. That was when Chris took a swing at him.

"You should've let me hit him," Larabee muttered, helping himself to more coffee.

"You don't mean that, Chris." Buck became serious. "Hell, these folks already think Vin's got something to do with that poor girl's death. How would it've looked if you'd knocked out the son of the local banker?"

Chris knew he was right, but he couldn't help feeling a certain amount of anger over the way the townsfolk had reacted. They had been very quick to judge – and judge badly! - one of the men who had put his life on the line for them on numerous occasions in the past. He simply couldn't understand their ungrateful attitude.

"See - you know I'm right." Buck took Chris' silence for agreement, and he climbed to his feet. "If we're gonna search again, you'd best get yourself cleaned up. I'm gonna get some breakfast." He ignored his friend's grimace of disgust at the mention of food. "I'll meet you at the Livery in about an hour."

Chris didn't wait an hour. He had washed and changed his shirt, and was making his way towards the stable just before eleven o'clock.

As he crossed the main street, he saw Mary Travis leave her office and head down the boardwalk towards him. He sighed; he knew she was just as concerned as they were about Vin, but what more could he tell her?

"Chris!"

He stopped as she called his name, and waited for her to catch up.

"Mary." He continued walking as she fell into step beside him, waiting for the questions he knew were going to come.

"Any word on Vin?" It was something she had to ask, even though she guessed what the answer would be. One of them would have sent word if he had been found.

He shook his head. "Me and Buck are gonna have another look around."

"What about Lucy Harris? Any more ideas why she was killed?"

The gunslinger stopped, and she could see the lines of strain on his face, hear the weariness in his voice.

"That's the funny thing. She didn't seem to have any enemies, but Ezra and JD are gonna keep asking."

"I hope something turns up soon."

Mary couldn't think of anything else to say as she turned away, and started to walk back to the newspaper office, a concerned frown on her face. She knew there was a special bond between Chris and Vin, and that the gunslinger must be going through all kinds of hell at the moment, wondering what had happened to him, but she also knew that Chris wouldn't accept any sympathetic words. He was quiet at the best of times, but now he was positively uncommunicative, and she was worried how much the tracker's disappearance would affect him. Vin seemed to have broken down some of the walls that had kept Chris apart from other people for so long, but now those barriers were starting to come back up.

She was thoughtful as she went back in, and then she stopped as she almost trod on a small package just inside the doorway. Picking it up, she turned it over and was amazed to find that it was addressed to Chris Larabee. Mary stared at it for a moment, her curiosity piqued, and then she stepped back outside, looking up and down the sidewalk to see who might have left it, but she could see nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual townspeople going about their business. Further down the street she could see Chris about to enter the Livery Stable, and she hurried to catch him before he left town.

Preoccupied as he was, Larabee didn't hear Mary at first, and then her second urgent shout halted him in his tracks. Looking round, he saw her almost running towards him, and for a moment he went cold, wondering what else could have happened.

"This was in my office when I got back," she said breathlessly, thrusting the package into his hand. "I didn't see who left it."

The gunslinger stared at it, his face turning pale as he recognised the handwriting.

"What is it?" Mary asked, seeing his change of expression. "Chris? Chris!"

The gunslinger glanced up at her, his hazel eyes unfathomable, and he turned away without a word, stepping into the gloomy stable.

As he walked down the line of stalls, he ripped the paper from the parcel. There were two items inside; one - Vin's medicine pouch that had been given to him by Chanu - he recognised immediately. The other was a sheet of folded paper and, as he opened it up and read the neatly written lines, he felt an odd sense of relief, followed by an almost overwhelming fear for his friend's safety.

One line from the note stood out from the rest; 'I need to see you. I have the man who betrayed us, but tell no-one else' was what it said, and he now knew what had happened to the Texan.

His sense of relief came from knowing that Vin had absolutely nothing to do with the death of Lucy Harris. Although he had vigorously defended him to the townspeople, Chris had felt a nagging doubt creeping into his own mind regarding the tracker's innocence. Now that that was no longer in question, as far as he was concerned, all he felt was a strong sense of foreboding.

Slipping the note and the pouch into the pocket of his coat, he wasted no more time in idle speculation. It took him less than a minute to put the tack onto his patiently waiting black gelding and, as he led the animal out into the sunlight, he was acutely aware of Mary Travis waiting by the doorway.

He gave her a look of silent apology as he swung into the saddle, and touched heels to the black. The horse was galloping before it had even passed the corral.

The gunslinger's sudden departure alarmed Mary, and she rushed forward, resting her hands on the top rail of the corral.

"Chris - wait!" she shouted, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. As the horse and rider disappeared in the distance, footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned as Buck came running up.

"Where the hell's he going?"

Mary shook her head, her face troubled. "I don't know. There was a package left for him at my office."

"What kind of package? What was in it?"

"I didn't see. I'm sorry."

Buck glanced up the trail, but the gunslinger was long gone. "Did he say anything?"

"No - he just rode straight out, but he looked like he'd seen a ghost!"

The ladies man swore under his breath and turned to go, but Mary touched his arm, making him pause for a moment.

"It has something to do with Vin, doesn't it?" It wasn't really a question, but she could see the answer, nevertheless, in Buck's expression.

"I'll get the others," he said and hurried away, leaving Mary to ponder the contents of the parcel.

+ + + + + + +

Chris had slowed his horse to a mile-eating lope a couple of miles from town. There was no point in pushing the black too hard at this stage; he had no idea how much further he would need to ride once he had made contact with his 'guide'.

His mind drifted back to the contents of the note, and his own feeling of guilt at not having trusted his instincts about Vin. He should have known that the tracker wasn't responsible for Lucy Harris' death, but it had been too easy to be swayed by the opinions of the frightened people in town.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise, and he had the uncanny feeling that he was being followed. Reining in his mount, he turned in the saddle and stared back along the trail. Some way in the distance, he could just make out three mounted figures and he knew, without being able to see any details, who they were. He should have realised it would be impossible to leave town without someone following him, and he knew that the grey horse, slightly ahead of the other two, belonged to Buck.

For a moment he considered spurring the black on and trying to lose them, but then common sense prevailed. They wouldn't give up that easily, and the last thing he wanted to do was lead them to the rendezvous point. So he waited, impatient with the delay, and angry with his friends for following him.

By the time Buck, Josiah, and Nathan reached him, his anger was almost palpable.

"Where the hell d'you think you're going?" Chris almost spat the words out, but Buck wasn't intimidated.

"Now that's funny, 'cos I was just gonna ask you the same thing."

The gunslinger's eyes grew hard. "That's none of your damn business!"

There was a brief, stony silence, and Buck regarded his friend intently. "Waal now, if it has something to do with Vin then it is our business."

The softly spoken comment was heartfelt, and it struck home. It made Chris stop and think, and he realised he was behaving selfishly; the others had as much right as he did to any information about Vin, but it was the source of that information that accounted for his attitude. He sighed heavily, feeling some of the anger drain out of him, leaving behind just the fear - and more than a little guilt.

"What was in the package, Chris?" Nathan asked. The gunslinger didn't answer for a moment; he just looked at each of them in turn, his expression unreadable. Finally he spoke.

"Ella Gaines is back."

Buck barely remembered the ride back to Four Corners; he just allowed the grey to pick its own way as he followed Josiah and Nathan. His mind was in a turmoil, and nothing the other two said seemed to shake him out of his bleak mood.

Ella Gaines.

The very mention of her name made his blood run cold. All the painful memories came flooding back, made worse by the realisation that, despite everything she had done, both in the past and more recently, the bitch was back and she had Vin! The gunslinger had reluctantly shown them the note, giving details of where he was to meet with her man, but he had made it perfectly clear that he was going on alone, as she had instructed.

The ladies man could still hear the echoes of the heated exchange between him and Chris – or rather, his tirade at Chris, for the gunslinger had been frighteningly calm and adamant as he stuck to his decision:

"I'm coming with you," Buck had said, his mind made up, but he was unprepared for his friend's answer.

"I'm going alone," Chris replied quietly. "She just wants me."

"The woman's insane!" he exploded, quivering with emotion. "You can't ride in there on your own just like that!"

"I have to. Otherwise she'll kill Vin."

"How do you know she hasn't already?" As soon as the words were out Buck regretted them. Judging by the way the gunslinger's eyes narrowed, Chris had obviously thought of that possibility, but he wasn't to be deterred.

"I don't," he said slowly. "But if we all go riding in, he's a dead man, whichever way you look at it."

Buck had no answer to that, and he looked to the others for support, but when it came it was for Larabee.

"Chris is right." The words came from Josiah, and the other three looked at him in surprise. "Someone who is that emotionally unstable is a danger to everyone. No-one knows how she'll react. The slightest thing could push her over the edge, and Vin wouldn't stand a chance."

"But – "

"Let Chris handle it his own way." The ex-preacher cut off Buck's protest mid-sentence, and the ladies man subsided into a sullen silence.

"I'll get word to you as soon as I can," Chris said, as he turned his mount's head and urged it forward into an easy canter. The other three watched him go, wrapped in their own thoughts for a moment, until finally Josiah spoke.

"Come on. I know a short cut to that place."

When Chris left the others he hardly gave them a second thought; his focus was on getting to the rendezvous, and meeting up with Ella's man.

As he rode he thought about what he was going to do. His first option would be to get the drop on this person, and 'persuade' him to take him to Ella; obviously the man would be going to do that anyway, but this way it would be on Chris' terms and with him still holding his guns.

At the end of the day, all Chris wanted was to find Vin and kill Ella Gaines. He had no feelings left for her at all; any vestige of emotion he may have felt for her in the past had been totally eradicated when he had found out she was responsible for killing his family. He was riding into her snare with his eyes wide open this time; if he could get Vin out so much the better, but if not he was prepared to die - so long as he could take her with him!

Chris was still more than a mile from the meeting place when a shot rang out, kicking up dirt just in front of his horse. The animal squealed in surprise, rearing and plunging nervously, and by the time the gunslinger had brought it under control three men on horseback had appeared from the brush at the side of the trail.

"Drop the gun, Larabee!" barked the first man, his Colt trained unerringly on Chris' midriff. His order was backed up by the other two, one of whom held a rifle at the ready.

"What d'you want?" Chris demanded, but he already knew the answer to that. These were Ella's men; it was unlikely that outlaws out to ambush the unwary traveller would know his name.

"Just toss the gun belt this way!" the man repeated. "Nice and easy."

As Chris unbuckled his gun, he cursed himself for his lack of vigilance. If he had thought about it properly, he would have realised that Ella wouldn't send just one man to bring him in. She knew him better than that. Add to that the fact that he had been intercepted before the meeting place... Chris smiled grimly to himself; he really shouldn't underestimate this woman!

As he passed his gun belt to the rider holding the Colt, the man with the rifle kneed his horse forward and pulled Chris' Winchester from the saddle boot.

"Tie his hands!" he snapped. "And let's get moving. We've a long way to go"

+ + + + + + +

Josiah and the others had cut across country and arrived at the meeting place a little before Chris. Keeping themselves concealed, they had watched as Chris passed them by, escorted by three men. Whilst he was not a prisoner as such, it was obvious they were taking no chances. His hands were tied in front of him, and it was Buck who noticed that his guns had been taken from him, and the man at the rear was watching the back trail carefully, his rifle at the ready.

The peacekeepers had followed them for as long as they could, heading due south until the terrain became so open and desert-like that they would be unable to track them without being seen. Discretion was the order of the day, and they dropped back, eventually losing sight of them completely, but at least they now had a starting point, once they were better prepared to make a prolonged search.

Buck hadn't wanted to turn back; he didn't want to let Chris ride into that woman's clutches alone, but the other two had persuaded him that it was for the best. Both Josiah and Nathan knew how he had felt about Chris' family, and his horror at discovering she was responsible for their deaths, but only the healer had been there when Buck had professed his love to Hilde, as she lay dying at Ella Gaines' ranch. It was understandable that he would be distraught at her reappearance, especially as she had kidnapped one of his best friends.

All attempts to draw Buck out of his shell had failed, and it was Nathan who suggested they stop at the saloon once they were back in town. He had the feeling that there was more troubling the ladies man than anybody suspected. As they dismounted outside the building, the healer pulled Josiah to one side.

"Can you find the others?" he asked softly. "I need to talk to Buck."

Josiah raised one eyebrow in query, but he could tell by the look on Nathan's face that it was important. "I'll tell them," he replied, in sudden understanding. "But what about Mary? She'll want to know."

"That's true. You'd best tell her as well."

The ex-preacher gave him a baleful look, knowing that Mary would press him for every last detail, but he accepted the task and walked away, a determined set to his shoulders.

"Where's he off to?" The comment came from Buck, and Nathan clapped him on the shoulder.

"He's gonna find Ezra and JD. They need to know what's happening."

"We need to go after Chris!"

"I know, but we have to figure out the right way of doing it. But first we could both use a drink." Giving the other man no more time to argue, Nathan pushed him forward and into the saloon.

Inez wasn't around, so the healer motioned for the barkeep to bring him a bottle and two glasses as he and Buck settled at the table the seven seemed to prefer. Pouring the amber liquid into the short glasses, he wasn't surprised when the ladies man downed his in one go.

"You obviously needed that," Nathan commented, refilling Buck's glass.

"I just want to get my hands on that bitch!"

Nathan had never heard such venom in Buck's voice, and he knew his instincts were right. As he took a thoughtful sip of his drink, he wondered what he was going to say to the angry man seated before him.

"I can understand how you feel," he began. "After what she did to Chris' family, and then to Hildegard - " He paused. Buck was shaking his head.

"No, you don't understand. There's more to it than that."

The healer regarded him curiously. "What more could there be?" he wanted to know. Buck picked up his glass again, and downed the second shot of whiskey.

"There's something I've kept from Chris all these years." The ladies man looked at Nathan, and his eyes were haunted. "It's something I've never had the courage to tell him."

"What do you mean?"

"Chris didn't just lose Sarah and Adam in that fire." His voice was thick with emotion, and he paused before going on. "She was having another baby!"

"Dear Lord!" Nathan was appalled; of all the things he had been expecting Buck to say, this was one he had never considered. "And Chris didn't know?"

"No. Sarah was so excited, but she didn't want him to put off the trip. She was gonna tell him when we got back, but - " Buck stopped, unable to go on. In his mind, he could still see that bright summer day as he and Chris rode off, with Sarah waving them farewell, one arm around Adam's shoulders and the other resting protectively on her stomach. She had never looked more radiant, blooming with the joy of another new life.

"She never got the chance," Nathan finished for him. There was little more he could say. "You've been keeping this secret all this time?"

"Yeah! I'm a damn coward for not telling him!" There was self-loathing in Buck's voice, and he wouldn't meet Nathan's gaze.

"You ain't a coward!" The healer banged his hand on the table to emphasise his point. "Most men wouldn't have the courage to keep a secret like that!"

There was a brief silence, and then Buck gave his friend a sad smile. "Thanks, Nathan, but it doesn't make it any easier - and I'd sooner the other's didn't know."

"They won't hear it from me," Nathan promised. "Besides, there's no point Chris knowing, any how. What we need to do now is get them both back alive."

Buck threw a quick glance over his shoulder as Josiah entered with Ezra and JD, and he lowered his voice so only Nathan could hear.

"And when we do I'm gonna make damn sure she can't cause Chris any more pain!"

+ + + + + + +

At Josiah's request, Mary had called a hasty meeting of the town's dignitaries, and now they were waiting impatiently in the grain exchange for the peacekeepers to arrive.

"Couldn't this have waited until the morning?" called one disgruntled voice.

"They said it was urgent," Mary pointed out, wondering what was keeping Buck and the others.

"Well I hope they're going to tell us they've found the killer," another man said. "My wife hasn't been able to sleep properly since then - and neither have I!"

At that moment the door was pushed open, and the five lawmen entered. Mary noticed that Buck and Ezra looked angry, and JD hung back a little as Josiah stepped forward.

"I guess you're all wondering what this is about." There were murmurs of affirmation from the assembled men and the ex-preacher held up his hand for silence. "As you know, a girl was murdered two days ago. Then Vin disappeared, and some of you thought he was involved." There were a few rumbles of protest at that, but they all knew they had been guilty of that particular sin.

"What are you trying to say?" called a voice from the back, and Nathan stepped forward as Josiah hesitated.

"We got proof Vin was kidnapped, and we think Lucy Harris was killed because she saw what was happening."

"So what's your next move?" The question came from Virgil Watson, who owned one of the stores in town. He was one of the few people who hadn't believed Vin was involved; the boy was just too quiet and polite for that.

"We're gonna head out in the morning and try and track down the killer," Nathan told him. "And we're gonna try and find Vin, too."

"Is there anything else?" Mary asked.

"Nope." Nathan shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that's about it."

As the people made a move for the door, Josiah called them back. "There is one more thing. Make sure everyone knows that the killer's left town, and no-one here is in any danger. Lucy Harris was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

There were murmurs of relief as the townsmen trooped out of the door and went home, or went along to one of the saloons for an evening's entertainment They were no longer worried about their loved ones now, and the death of a saloon girl was of little consequence to them. Only Mary remained, her face troubled as she came up to Buck.

"Is it true Chris has gone after that woman on his own? Why didn't you go with him?" There was a slightly accusing tone in her voice, but the ladies man returned her gaze steadily.

"Believe me, Mary, I wanted to," he replied earnestly, throwing a quick glance at Nathan and Josiah. The healer saw the look directed at him, and he turned to Mary.

"She made it quite clear that Chris was to come alone. If we'd all gone along, it would have put Vin in more danger, ma'am."

Mary could see that he was right; from what little she had learned about Ella Gaines, she knew that the woman would kill the tracker without a shred of remorse if it suited her purpose. Pulling her shawl tightly about her shoulders, she regarded the peacekeepers intently, seeing her own trepidation mirrored on all their faces.

"Just bring them both back safely," she said softly, as she left.

+ + + + + + +

It was well past dusk when Chris and his escort brought their weary horses to a stop. As they dismounted the gunslinger thought they were going to make camp for the night, but he was wrong.

"No - leave the saddle on. Just loosen the girth."

The command came from the man who had relieved Chris of his rifle earlier on, and Larabee turned on him angrily.

"You can't leave them saddled all night!"

The man shook his head. "Who said anything about all night? We're only stopping long enough to eat and rest the horses for a bit, then we're pushing on."

"Yeah - the boss is real anxious to see you," said the second man, grinning slyly as he built a small fire and set a pot of water on to heat for coffee. "Real anxious!"

As Chris squatted down close to the small blaze, he couldn't prevent the shudder that rippled through his body when he thought about just how anxious Ella was to have him back, and the lengths she was going to to achieve it. He thought back to the last time he had seen her, as he took careful aim at her along the barrel of his gun. If he had had the courage to pull the trigger then, none of this would be happening now.

"Here."

Chris looked up in surprise as the man by the fire thrust a cup of coffee at him, and he took it gratefully.

"Thanks," he said, spilling a little of the drink down the leg of his pants as he took it between his tied hands. The gunslinger cursed, and gestured at his bound wrists. "Any chance of losing these ropes?"

The man laughed harshly. "Not a chance! We were told to keep a real close eye on you."

Chris was silent for a while, sipping at his coffee as the other two men joined them, having seen to the needs of the horses.

"How much further we got to go?" he asked suddenly.

"Far enough," growled the third man, effectively ending any further conversation. From then on the three men almost ignored him, talking quietly amongst themselves, but whenever he looked up one of them was watching him.

A short while later they were back in the saddle, and riding carefully through the dark night. As the time wore on, Chris began to wonder why Ella was so keen to get him there this quick, and he started to worry about what he would find at the end of this journey. However far they still had to travel, it was going to seem like a lifetime to the gunslinger.

PART 2

"Hello Vin."

Ever since Ella Gaines had uttered her insidious greeting, Vin Tanner had spent his waking moments living in fear.

Claustrophobia was a word that didn't appear in the tracker's vocabulary; even if it did - and he knew what it meant - it still wouldn't help him to understand why being in such a place could affect him this way. It felt as though he had been wrapped in drying rawhide, the constricting material squeezing the breath from his body so he found it harder and harder to breath.

There was no doubt about it - he had a very real fear of being confined in this cold, dark oppressive room with no means of escape, but what terrified him more than that was the thought of her coming back.

He had known, from the moment he had seen her yesterday, that his fate was sealed. She thought nothing of killing anyone who got in the way of her claiming Chris for herself, a process which had begun when she had hired Cletus Fowler to murder the gunslinger's wife and son. Ella knew he was the one who had tried to warn Chris about her; she had seen him talking to the gunslinger at the party, and now it was his turn. And there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

Vin tested the ties that bound his wrists but they remained as firm as ever, and all he succeeded in doing was scraping off yet another layer of skin. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes with a shiver, in the hope that he could escape into merciful oblivion. Only when he was asleep could he forget the terrors that assailed him, but they always returned as soon as he opened his eyes.

His captors had not bothered to feed him since he'd arrived, although one of the men had allowed him a few sips of water, and he felt light-headed and weak. The persistent ache in his chest convinced him that he had cracked more than one rib when the horse's hoof had struck him, and he was forced to try and keep his breathing shallow to ease the pain. However, in his current state of anxiety, that wasn't easy. He was about to drift off again when the sound of the door opening forced him awake.

Once again the light from the lantern hurt his eyes, but this time he could just make out the large form of Farrell as he came forward to place it on the table. However it was the slim figure behind him, with a tray in her hands, that caused Vin's heart to pound faster.

"Leave us, Farrell," Ella ordered. "I'll call you when I'm ready to go."

The other glanced at her uncertainly for a moment, and then grinned unpleasantly at Vin before stepping out and closing the door. As the key turned in the lock, Ella walked across to stand over the Texan.

"I don't think Mr. Farrell likes you very much," she observed, her lips curved in a slight smile.

"Feelin's mutual," Vin replied hoarsely, his voice sounding shaky.

Her smile widened, but then she frowned as she noticed his bruised and cut mouth. Crouching down, Ella tilted his face towards the light, and Vin struggled to suppress a shudder as she touched him.

"Did he do that?" she asked solicitously

Vin nodded warily; he didn't believe her apparent show of concern for a minute, but he had to admit she sounded very convincing. To his relief she released him and climbed to her feet, moving across to the table.

"I must warn him about using excess violence," Ella said over her shoulder. "I can't let him kill you before Chris gets here." Her casual remark struck renewed fear into Vin's heart, and he felt a cold sweat break out on his brow.

"That ain't gonna happen," he countered, his voice trembling. "Chris has got more sense than that."

Ella turned from the table, a damp cloth in her hand. "Oh, but he's on his way right now. He should be here before the morning."

Vin stared at her in horror; once she had them both in her clutches, there was no telling what she would do. She certainly wasn't going to let Chris escape from her a second time, and his own survival would be measured in minutes!

Damn you, Larabee, he thought. Damn you for your predictable ways! You're gonna fall into the same trap as before.

"Don't worry," Ella added, as she came back to kneel beside him. "We've got plenty of time to get re-acquainted before he gets here."

That last comment sent another shiver down his spine, and he found himself shrinking back against the wall as her predatory gaze swept him from head to foot.

"Why, Vin, you're trembling," she cooed, using the wet cloth to carefully clean the grime from his face, and the dried blood from around his mouth. "There's nothing to be afraid of." She smiled and reached for the glass that stood beside her on the floor. "Here - you must be thirsty." Vin glanced at the tumbler suspiciously, and quickly turned his head away, his lips clenched tightly shut. "It's only water," Ella told him. "Don't you trust me?"

Despite his apprehension Vin almost laughed aloud at her remark. How could anyone trust this woman? She had lied and plotted for years to get what she wanted, and now it appeared to be within her grasp.

"Look," she said, raising the glass to own lips. "There's nothing to worry about." Ella took a few sips before offering it to Vin. This time his thirst got the better of him, and he took a cautious swallow. It was indeed only water, but to his parched throat it felt like pure nectar. He drank greedily, and Ella was most obliging, letting him continue until the liquid caught in his throat and he started coughing. Pain erupted in his chest as the spasm aggravated his ribs, and the woman hastily took the cup away, peering at his strained face.

"What is it?" she said, her face full of concern. "Do your ribs hurt?"

Without thinking, Vin nodded quickly as he struggled to get his breathing under control. Placing the glass on the floor, she rested her hands lightly on his chest.

"Let me take a look," she said, her demeanour that of an anxious friend. "Hamilton told me you'd been kicked by a horse." The Texan flinched suddenly as she reached for the fastenings of his shirt and fiddled with the laces.

"These are awkward," Ella said softly, her eyes fixed on his. "Never mind, this will help." Reaching into the folds of her dress, she drew out a long-bladed knife. With sudden shock Vin realised it was his, and he tensed as she lowered it to the material. Closing his eyes as the first fastening was severed, he tried to remain calm. Knowing how sharp the weapon was, he steeled himself for the inevitable pain, but he still yelped with surprise when the blade caught him, slipping once or twice as she hurried.

"Sorry - did I cut you?" Ella exclaimed. "Let me see."

In spite of himself, Vin opened his eyes and glanced down at the thin lines of blood that ran down his chest. The blade had sliced through his shirt and under-vest, cutting deeply into his flesh, and Ella leaned forward as she pulled apart the tattered remains of his clothes. Her face was very close to his chest, and he could feel her warm breath on his exposed skin as she licked her finger and ran the moist tip across each bloody furrow. She looked up into his face, a slow smile playing on her lips.

"No real harm done," she whispered, and he groaned as her hand reached up to caress his forehead. His heart started thumping again as she tossed aside the knife, sending it skittering across the floor until it came to rest by the table. She drew herself up so she was face to face with him, and she entwined her fingers in his long, tangled hair, pulling him towards her.

"You know, Vin," she purred. "I never noticed before, but you have the most beautiful eyes. Blue like the summer sky. I bet you have all the ladies falling at your feet."

The tracker was having trouble breathing now. Despite his revulsion, the close proximity of this sensuous woman was having the predictable effect on his body, and he felt the heat rising in his loins. Ella could sense his growing arousal and she snuggled closer, her lips brushing his eyelids, his cheeks, and then finally his mouth. Her kiss took him completely by surprise, and he barely had time to gasp as her tongue found its way between his lips, probing and feeling and tasting. The encounter left them both breathless and, weakened as he was by hunger, Vin felt sickeningly dizzy.

Ella laughed, a deep throaty chuckle, and sitting up she shook out the pins that held her dark hair back, allowing it to tumble forward across her face to tickle the tracker's nose. She then reached back and unfastened the buttons of her dress, before slipping it over her head and dropping it on the floor. Clad only in her lacy shift, she sat astride the tracker's lean form and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, moistening her lips lasciviously. "Ah, yes."

She leaned forward again, her mouth caressing his throat, and her teeth nipping uncomfortably close to his jugular. Vin closed his eyes as the unwelcome desire grew ever stronger, and he groaned as her tongue trailed a fiery path down his chest, encircling his hardening nipples. With a moan of self-disgust, he cursed impotently as his treacherous body responded to her touch.

The Texan would have preferred certain death to this, but it was obvious that Ella was out to enjoy herself. Her hands were as busy as her lips now, and he started to panic as they travelled towards his groin.

"No… please!" he begged, breathlessly.

Ella raised her head. "What's the matter, Vin? You do like women, I hope? No, don't answer that - I can see that you do!" She lowered her gaze as she answered her own question, and the tracker gave an audible gasp as he felt her warm hands pause on the buttons of his pants. "I'd hate to think I was wasting my time."

The strain was almost too much to bear now, but Ella seemed to relish his discomfort. She slid herself lower, rubbing her pelvis against his crotch, and it was almost a relief when she finally undid the fastenings of his pants. Sitting up, Ella smiled in triumph as she straddled the tracker and lowered herself slowly onto him. Vin's ragged breathing grew stronger as she thrust down suddenly, her eyes fixed on his despairing face. At first he tried to throw her off, but his hands were too tightly bound above his head, and all her weight was pressed heavily on top of him. His attempts to escape only stimulated her more, and she redoubled her efforts.

He closed his eyes against the lust in her face, and tried to quell the natural urge to reciprocate, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Tears of shame trickled from between dark lashes as his body began to move in time with her quickening thrusts, and fresh blood from his chafed wrists soaked into his shirtsleeves as his struggles became more violent. Every breath was agony now, and his chest felt as though it were about to burst.

His pain seemed to delight Ella, and her face was a mask of unnatural pleasure as she drove him on towards climax. When it finally came, Vin heard himself cry out, but it was not the scream of ecstasy; it was a cry of hatred and self-disgust for allowing himself to be used in this way. With a satisfied sigh, Ella fell forward against his chest, her lips close to his throat.

"Thank you, Vin," she breathed. "That was very invigorating. Almost as good as Chris. Don't worry, I won't tell him. It will just be between you and I. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

He turned his head away as she tried to kiss him once more, and she giggled as her teeth fastened savagely on the base of his throat, leaving her own unique brand, for all the world to see. As she rolled off him and retrieved her discarded clothes, Ella hummed softly to herself. Rearranging her dishevelled hair, she picked up Vin's knife and the now empty glass from the floor and returned them to the table. Crouching once more before the tracker, she pulled the torn shirt back across his shivering form and refastened his pants. As she straightened up, a gloating smile lit up her features.

"We can't have you catching cold, now can we?"

Vin glared up at her, his eyes full of loathing and dread, but she just laughed again and went across to bang hard on the door.

"Farrell, you can let me out now. I've finished with Mr. Tanner for the time being."

The man wasn't long in coming, and Vin's shame increased as he realised Farrell must have known all along what had been going on. As the door opened, Ella gave a bright smile, and turned to blow the tracker a farewell kiss. The gorge rose in his throat as she left the room, and he almost welcomed the darkness as the lantern was removed.

As their footsteps faded away, his stomach gave a queasy lurch, and he turned his head aside as he began to retch. His empty belly yielded nothing but sticky bile, and the attack left him sweating and exhausted. As he slumped back against the wall the tremors started, worse than before, as the horror of his ordeal sank in.

At this moment all he wanted to do was die, but it seemed that Ella had other plans for him. She would wreak her revenge the only way she knew how - by making sure he suffered the fires of Hell itself before he begged for death.

+ + + + + + +

Chris didn't know what the time was when they finally arrived at their destination, but he guessed it had to be close to midnight.

They had turned off the main route about a mile back, following a narrow trail that lead right up to the house itself. In the moonlight Chris could see the low wall that surrounded the property, and as they passed beneath the stone entrance-way, he could just make out the carving of a cross at the apex of the arch. The main building loomed just ahead of them, wide and two-storied, with the inevitable guard surveying the outlying area from the flat roof. Lights burned in a number of the downstairs windows, but only one was illuminated on the upper floor. To the gunslinger's experienced eyes, the house looked as though it had once been a mission; if he hadn't been so angry and worried he would have laughed at the irony of a woman as evil and hypocritical as Ella living in such a place.

As the four men rode up to the wooden porch that ran along the entire front of the house, the front door was opened and Hamilton stepped out.

"Any trouble?" he asked, as the quartet dismounted.

"Nope. Everything went the way she figgered," commented one of the men.

"Good. See to the horses before you turn in." As the men gathered up the reins of the animals - including those of Chris' black - Hamilton eyed the gunslinger up and down. His calculating gaze took in the tall man before him, seeing how he almost blended into the night in his dark clothing, and he sensed the latent fury in the feral hazel eyes that stared back at him. This was a very dangerous man, despite the ropes around his wrists, and Ella had been wise to take no chances with him.

"So you're the infamous Chris Larabee," he said at length. "You don't look so tough to me." There was a brief silence as the two men regarded each other warily. Then, without warning, the gunslinger moved forward, and Hamilton took a hurried step back, cursing himself for that show of weakness as a mocking smile curved Chris' lips.

"Untie me," he said, holding his wrists out. "And we'll see just how tough I am."

There it was; the gauntlet had been thrown down, but Hamilton seemed reluctant to pick it up. Pulling out his knife, he sliced through the rope, stepping away as Chris flexed his cramped fingers and massaged his sore wrists. Then he slipped the blade back into its sheath and drew his gun.

"Inside!" he snapped. "Ella wants to see you right away."

As they stepped through the doorway, Chris glanced around him. The house wasn't as large as the one left to her by Joseph Petrie, but he could see that Ella had done alright for herself as usual. The entrance hall was not quite so opulent, but there was a wide staircase leading up to a balustraded upper landing, and heavy tapestries depicting religious scenes covered all the walls. In a brief moment of frivolity he couldn't help thinking how much Josiah would have liked them.

"He is to meet the mistress at once," said the pretty young Mexican girl who greeted them, pointing up the stairs. Her dark eyes widened in fear when she saw the gun Hamilton held against Chris' back, but she made no comment. She had learned early on not to question anything that happened in Ella Gaines' house.

"You heard her," Hamilton said, pushing the gunslinger forward. "Let's not keep the lady waiting."

Despite his anger, Chris laughed. "Trust me - Ella is a lot of things, but she ain't no lady!"

"Just get moving," the other growled, forcing Larabee up the stairs in front of him, and along the landing, finally stopping outside a closed door. To the gunslinger's surprise Hamilton knocked politely.

The door was opened by yet another Mexican girl, just as young and pretty as the one downstairs, and she stepped back, inviting them in. Chris found himself in a large bedroom, soft drapes surrounding the four-poster bed that dominated the room. A single lamp burned in the window, but dozens of candles burned brightly, the faintly scented wax filling the room with the heady perfume of spring flowers. It made Chris feel slightly sick.

"Graçias, Rosa. You may leave me now. You too, Tom."

The voice came from behind a beautifully painted screen that shielded the far corner of the room, and it filled the gunslinger with revulsion.

"But, Ella, I - "

"I said go!" There was a sharp snap to the woman's voice, the snap of someone who was used to getting her own way, and Hamilton knew it. Without any further argument, he followed the Mexican girl out, closing the door behind him. Instantly Chris was at the window, throwing the curtains back, but there were solid steel bars beyond the glass.

"I'm sorry, my love," Ella said softly, almost as though she could see what he was doing. "There's no way out from here, so you may as well enjoy it." Her words were punctuated by the sound of splashing water, and Chris suddenly realised she was taking a bath. "Why don't you come and scrub my back for me? Come on - don't be shy!" she enticed as he hesitated.

As Chris stepped around the screen and saw the dark haired woman lounging in the tub and smiling up at him invitingly, it was all he could do to prevent himself from pushing her down and holding her under. It was almost as though Ella could read his thoughts as she turned her face towards him, a mocking smile playing about her lips.

"Let's get one thing perfectly clear," she said as she raised one elegant leg from the bath, and absently contemplated the bubbles that dripped from it. "Tanner's life is forfeit if anything happens to me - even by accident." Her smile grew wider. "And my people are very loyal, Chris. Don't ever forget that."

A small, ornately carved table stood beside the tub, and she stretched out a neatly manicured hand towards the crystal glass full of red wine that stood upon it. Dipping her finger into it, she licked the dark liquid from her skin, slow and sensual, watching Chris all the time. As her tongue flicked out, catching every last drop, the gunslinger was reminded of a lizard, cold-blooded and treacherous.

"What do you want?" he grated at length.

"So - you can speak!" Ella shook her head in amusement. "I'd have thought you'd have plenty to say to me after so long."

"Where's Vin?" he demanded, stepping forward threateningly, his hands clenched tightly at his side.

"Vin? Let me see." She was toying with him, and relishing every moment. "I'll tell you after I've finished my bath. I do so hate the sweaty feeling after I've been with a man - and Vin is certainly a man! Not quite up to your standards, my love, but an amusing distraction nonetheless."

Ella's words, so calm and matter-of-fact, sent a shiver down Chris' spine, but he knew she was just trying to get a reaction from him.

"Don't play your games with me," he told her, his voice hard. "I know you too well."

The woman laughed. "Do you? Oh, well - no matter." Picking up her glass, she finished her wine and then pushed herself languidly up out of the tub. "Hand me that towel," she requested as she turned to face him. Chris followed her pointing finger, and then deliberately turned his back and walked away.

"I see your manners haven't improved," she hissed angrily, as she stepped from the bath and snatched up the towel.

As he sat on the chair beside the nightstand, Chris could feel his tension mounting. Even though he knew Ella was baiting him deliberately, he couldn't help reacting, but he was damned if he would let her see just how much her words had affected him. Playing it cool and stoic was what he did best, but inside he was screaming with impatience.

Moments later Ella stepped from behind the screen, her cloying smile back in place as she ran a brush through her damp hair. She stalked across the room, the whisper of her cream and gold robe sounding loud in the silence. Stopping in front of the gunslinger, she tilted her head to one side, resting the back of the brush against her chin as she smiled down at him.

"I told you we'd find our way back to each other." she said softly, but Chris just glared at her.

"I want to see Vin."

"Time was when all you wanted to see was me," she purred seductively, dropping into his lap. She leaned into him, the front of her robe gaping open to reveal the lack of clothing underneath. The musky scent of her perfume filled the gunslinger's nostrils, and he stood up suddenly, allowing Ella to slide to the floor with a startled yelp.

"I want to see Vin - now!" Chris repeated.

Ella's eyes flashed fire, and she hurled the brush across the room, toppling a jug of water from the bedside table. The sudden crash made her pause, and she realised Chris had turned the situation around - for the moment. Taking a deep breath she willed herself to be calm. Gathering her dignity around her as best she could, Ella climbed to her feet, smoothing down her robe as she regained her composure.

"You're very persistent, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait until morning." A slow smile spread across her face. "The way is far too treacherous in the dark." Perching on the edge of the four-poster bed, she leaned back slightly, one hand absently caressing the silk covering. "Besides, you must be tired. I had one of the guest rooms made up for you - unless... " She let her words trail off, and she smiled up at him enticingly.

Chris stared at her for a moment, and then to Ella's complete amazement, he walked slowly across the room and rested his hand on the bedpost. Leaning forward, so his face was almost level with her, he gave her the wolfish half-smile that she remembered so well.

"Lady, I'd sooner sleep with a rattle-snake!"

The gunslinger stepped back as Ella's face changed. The smile was gone now, and the fury that flashed across her features made her look old and ugly. She leapt to her feet, and for a moment Chris thought she was going to strike him, but instead she flounced across to the door and yanked it open, screaming Hamilton's name. The man couldn't have been very far away, for he appeared within seconds, his right hand curled just above the grip of his gun.

"Show Mr. Larabee to the guest room at the end of the corridor - and be certain he stays there!"

As the hired gun escorted Chris out into the hallway, the door was slammed behind them with teeth-rattling force, and the gunslinger knew he had won this round.

Chris spent a very restless first night under Ella's roof.

On entering the guest room the first thing he did was check the window, but that was blocked by the same solid bars that he had encountered in Ella's bedroom and, despite Hamilton telling him there would be a man outside, he just had to try the door, but it was locked as well as guarded.

Removing his hat and coat so he was a little more comfortable, he took a good look around. The room was quite large, with a double bed, the usual assortment of furniture, and a small table. There was a silver tray on the table, with a bottle and a heavy-cut crystal tumbler sitting on it.

Chris went across and poured himself a generous measure from the bottle, downing it in one go. The whiskey was of the finest quality - as if he had expected anything different - but it was too tempting and Ella must have known that. Furious with himself for being so predictable, the gunslinger hurled the bottle against the far wall with a resounding crash. The tumbler followed seconds later.

Having vented some of his frustration, Chris turned his mind to the reasons behind Ella's twisted plan. He had no idea what the woman wanted from him, although he could make a pretty good guess. Thinking back to Buck's comment about her being insane, he shuddered; did she really think they could just carry on as though nothing had happened? She obviously did, and that's what made her so dangerous. His horror at finding out she was responsible for the death of his family, and his utter disbelief at the 'shrine' she had kept at the other house, had almost destroyed his faith in people. Afterwards all he wanted to do was kill her, and he bitterly regretted the one missed opportunity he had had, but even that emotion had faded with time. Now it was back, and demanding vengeance.

The reason behind her snatching Vin was much simpler; the Texan was the bait to lure him here, and he had swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker. He also realized now that she must have suspected it was the tracker who had dredged up her shady dealings and laid them bare for Chris to see.

Vin - he didn't deserve to be tangled in this web of her weaving, and Chris' concern for his friend was almost as strong as his hatred for her. Suddenly he realised he'd been pacing back and forth for some time, and all he was doing was wearing himself out, emotionally and physically. Dropping onto the edge of the bed, he ran his fingers through his hair as he considered what Ella had said about Vin. Had she just been toying with him to get a reaction, or was there some truth to her comment? Knowing how shy the tracker could be around women, Chris could only hope it was just vindictive insinuation on her part.

In all honesty, and much as he didn't want to consider it, the gunslinger didn't even have any proof that Vin was still alive. He knew now that one of Ella's men had strangled Lucy Harris, but there was still the mystery of the bloodstained axe-handle that Buck had found at the scene.

Leaning back against the pillows, Chris stared up at the ceiling, contemplating the cracks in the plaster and wondering how he was going to get through the night. Somewhere in the house a clock chimed three, and he sighed. Morning would be a long time coming.

A few minutes after the third chime sounded, the gunslinger dropped into a fitful sleep. But his mind was still restless, and the nightmares that he thought he had finally conquered were back in all their fiery glory.

However, there was now a third person in the burning house with Sarah and Adam, and as he looked closer he could see that it was Vin.

+ + + + + + +

Ella was already seated at the head of the long table in the dining room when Chris was released from his room the next morning. An immaculately dressed maid was just serving her with coffee as another of the hired guns - Chris had heard him called Farrell - escorted the gunslinger in for breakfast.

"Good morning, my love. Please - join me." Ella indicated the space next to her, and the maid slid the chair out. Without even looking, Chris walked down to the far end of the table and pulled out his own seat. A flicker of annoyance crossed Ella's face as she waved Farrell away, but she continued to smile sweetly. "Breakfast?" she asked.

"Just coffee." Chris was in no mood for social niceties.

"Maria - a plate for our guest," Ella went on, as though the gunslinger hadn't spoken. Chris continued to stare at her in silence as the Mexican girl set a plate piled with thick slices of ham and lightly scrambled eggs in front of him. A cup of coffee and a plate of flapjacks followed and, as the aroma filled his nostrils, the gunslinger realised he was actually ravenous. It had been more than a day since he'd last eaten and, despite his forebodings, he could see no point in starving himself.

As Chris picked up a fork and began to eat, Ella gave a smirk of triumph. It was almost as though they were trying to score points off each other, but the woman knew she held all the aces. Sipping slowly at her coffee, she watched him eat, only looking away to nod at Maria to have her cup re-filled. As Chris pushed away his empty plate, Ella looked at him properly for the first time.

"You look terrible, Chris. Didn't you get much sleep?" Ella slipped from her chair and walked down to him, seeing the rumpled clothing and unshaven, haggard face. She touched his shirt briefly, snatching her hand away as though the wrinkled material offended her. "Didn't you see the clean clothing I had laid out for you?"

"I saw it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take a bath first?" Ella jumped as Chris' fist banged on the table, and he surged to his feet, his face dark.

"Quit stalling!" he snapped angrily. "You know what I want!"

"I can see you're determined," Ella said, backing away from him, and she glanced over her shoulder as Farrell came back into the room.

"You okay?" he asked, seeing the gunslinger acting so threateningly.

"Yes - fine. Tell one of the men to get the horses ready."

"Sure, but I need to speak to you first."

Ella pulled Farrell across to the doorway, and he spoke to her in low tones so that only she could hear. Chris saw the way she kept glancing in his direction, and he started to feel an uncomfortable itch between his shoulder blades as his imagination began to work overtime. Eventually Farrell left, and Ella spoke to Maria, asking the maid to fetch her jacket.

"Well, what are you waiting for? I thought you wanted to see your friend." Ella stepped out into the hallway, and slipped on the jacket that the girl held out for her as Chris followed her out. "Let's not keep him waiting too long."

It was a bright, crisp morning, and the sun was still quite low in the sky at this hour as Chris stepped out onto the porch behind Ella. The gunslinger shaded his eyes against the glare as they waited for the horses to be brought from the corral, all the while keeping a wary eye on what was happening around him. Then he suddenly froze. Not twenty feet from him, chatting quite amiably with a couple of Ella's men, was a slight figure clad in a fringed buckskin coat and light cavalry hat!

Chris' first reaction was one of confusion; with the sun at his back the man's face was a featureless shadow, and for a moment the gunslinger was convinced it was Vin. It was an irrational thought and one he quickly discarded. He knew there was no way that the tracker would be walking around at his ease, seemingly so friendly with Ella's men, even as his mind flashed back to her comments of the previous night. Vin wouldn't betray his trust so utterly, so it had to be someone else wearing his friend's coat and hat, or garments very like them.

As the figure came closer and stepped into the shade, he could see it was a young Mexican, and that the coat he wore did indeed belong to the Texan. Anxiety gnawed at him at this strange turn of events, and he could feel angry words rising to his lips as he turned to confront Ella.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded. "Why's he got Vin's coat?"

Ella smiled sweetly. "Well, he liked it, so I gave it to him. It was just a little extra bonus for luring your friend so easily into my trap."

Chris gave a growl of disgust, and turned his steely gaze upon the Mexican, but the young man was oblivious to the scrutiny as he swaggered up to the porch.

"Good morning, Carlos," the woman greeted him. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Si, Senora. I did a good job for you - yes?"

"I have no complaints," Ella agreed.

"So now I want my money. I want to go home to my family."

Ella looked past him for a moment, and then she smiled. "Are you quite sure that's what you want?"

"Si, Senora. I am sure."

"Very well. Farrell - pay him."

As Ella turned and walked quickly away, Chris suddenly knew what was about to happen. Even as he opened his mouth to speak, he realised that Farrell had moved and was standing right behind the young Mexican, his gun already in his hand.

The shot sounded unexpectedly loud in the still morning, and across by the corral a horse whinnied in sudden fear. Farrell's bullet ripped through the Mexican's head, shattering his skull and sending a hideous shower of bone, blood, and brains into the air. As the body toppled to the ground, Chris stared in stunned disbelief at Ella. Accustomed as he was to sudden, violent death, he was nonetheless horrified by her cold-blooded, calculating action, and it gave him more reason to fear for Vin's safety. The wanton slaying of one of her own men made him realise that the tracker's life hung by the merest thread.

"Heartless bitch!" he spat, taking a step towards her, but Farrell was there, his gun aimed at Chris' belly.

"Don't even think about it!" the hired gun warned. At his words Ella turned around, seeing how shaken Chris was, and she pouted her lips.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't let him spoil everything for us, could I?" Her tone was petulant, and the gunslinger wanted to wipe the simpering look off of her face with his fist. "Besides, he still has a role to play." She looked up and motioned one of the other men forward. "Donnelly - you know what to do."

Chris watched as the man, Donnelly, and two other's loaded the Mexican's body across the back of a horse, and he felt emotionally drained. He might have thought he knew Ella's ways before, but she had changed now - and not for the better. Her obsession with him seemed to have become all consuming, to the total exclusion of everything else. Pre-occupied with these thoughts, he didn't notice Ella standing beside him until she reached out and touched his arm.

"You look a little pale, my love," she intoned as the gunslinger flinched away from her. "Are you sure you're up to a long ride?"

"Let's go," he growled, moving away to stand by his black, trying to put as much distance between them as Farrell would allow. As she swung lightly into the saddle of her dainty bay, he couldn't help but wonder how much further her merry dance was going to lead him.

+ + + + + + +

To Chris it felt as though they had been riding for hours, and he was relieved when they finally stopped.

After the murder of Carlos, he and Ella had left the house, accompanied by Farrell and another man, and headed along a narrow trail to the east of the homestead. After about twenty minutes the woman had brought them to a stop, and insisted that Chris be blindfolded. The gunslinger had baulked at this suggestion, extremely unhappy at the prospect of placing his trust in these people, but in the end he had had no option but to agree. Ella flatly refused to go any further unless his eyes were covered.

The remainder of the journey had thoroughly disorientated him, and his stomach still felt decidedly queasy when Ella finally called a halt. Sliding from the back of his horse, Chris kept one hand clamped around the stirrup leather, his solitary grasp on reality in his currently darkened world, but as he reached up to snatch off the blindfold, calloused fingers tightened about his wrist and dragged his hand away.

"Leave it!" Farrell warned, the barrel of his gun digging into Chris' ribs to emphasise his point.

"Patience, my love." Ella's voice sounded close to his ear, and his nose wrinkled in disgust as he smelled her perfume. "Not much further now."

Chris was dragged forward, and he stumbled slightly as he felt the gun move to the small of his back. Farrell's grip on his shoulder propelled him forward and he instinctively stretched his hands out in front of him, feeling his way. He jumped as he suddenly felt soft fingers reach for his, and he snatched his hand from the woman's predatory grasp. To his surprise, Ella made no comment, and he heard her walk away, his own steps guided in the same direction by the hired gun.

They had gone no more than a dozen paces when Chris caught his toe against a low step, and he heard Farrell's nasty chuckle as he tripped forward. Hands flailing in front of him, he was saved from falling by a firm grip on his elbow, and he realised that there was another man already there. The gunslinger could feel his heart thumping; he was helpless and reliant on these people at the moment, and that wasn't a situation he was comfortable with.

"Be careful," Ella snapped, her tone indicating that she had seen Farrell's action and wasn't amused by it. "Give me that lantern, Tom."

As they continued on, Chris could hear their footsteps echoing hollowly, and he guessed they were in a narrow passageway. Cautiously stretching out his fingers he could feel the cold stone on either side of him, and smell the dankness in the cooling air, and his sense of foreboding grew stronger.

"Wait, Chris. There are stairs going down." Ella's voice halted him in his tracks, and this time he didn't shake off her hand as she lead him down the six steps. He heard the sound of a heavy door being unlocked and swung open, and the stale smell of mildew and urine assailed his nostrils. Then a firm shove between his shoulder blades sent him staggering forward, and as he tried to regain his balance he heard the clink of metal on metal, and the blindfold was suddenly snatched from his eyes.

Wincing at the glare from the lamp, which now hung on a hook just above his head, Chris blinked several times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light again. As his vision cleared, he could see Ella standing in front and just to his right, her eyes fixed on his face, but his gaze was drawn beyond her, to the bound figure slumped against the far wall.

For a moment Chris didn't move, shock holding him immobile as he regarded his friend. Vin's arms were raised above him, his wrists fastened to a ring on the wall, and his head hung forward, chin resting against his chest. The tracker was filthy, his hair matted and tangled, and the gunslinger could see that he had been sitting in his soiled clothes for days.

"Vin!" he breathed, his voice shaking.

Chris didn't realise that he had said the word out loud until Farrell sniggered, but he ignored him as he crouched down in front of the Texan, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

"Vin," he repeated, alarmed by the lack of reaction. Reaching out, he grasped the tracker's chin, tilting his face up towards the light, but Vin gasped and flinched away, burying his face against his raised arm.

"No!" The word was almost an anguished sob, and Chris placed a hand on either side of the other's face, forcing him to look at him. He could feel the tracker trembling with pain beneath his hands, and feel the iciness in his skin, but it was the haunted look in the shadowy blue eyes that really tore at his soul.

He forced himself to study Vin more carefully, seeing the badly lacerated wrists and the tattered shirt that hung open, revealing a trail of dark bruises and deep scores. Finally his eyes came to rest on the purple marks at the base of his throat, the imprint of teeth still clearly visible.

"What the hell did you do to him?" His voice throbbed with barely controlled fury as he flung the question over his shoulder at Ella, and he heard her haughty laugh.

"Surely you're not that naive? Besides - I think he quite enjoyed it."

Chris felt his stomach contract with revulsion, and he knew that Ella's words of the previous night were true. He couldn't even begin to imagine how the shy, almost innocent, tracker would have reacted to her lewd advances. Hell, if she could manipulate him, then there was no telling the damage she had done to Vin, who had the annoying habit of trying to see the good in everyone - even when it wasn't there! No wonder he was in such a state of shock.

The other aspect of the situation that really frightened Chris was the tiny place that Vin was being held - and in the dark! The only light came from the lantern that Ella had brought with her, and it would disappear again once they left. Only Chris, and the rest of the Seven, knew how paranoid the tracker was about enclosed places. He rarely slept under a roof, even on the coldest of nights, preferring the canvas of his wagon or the canopy of stars whenever he could.

"... shouldn't have come... "

The slurred comment was forced from Vin's lips, and the gunslinger almost lost control when he heard the raw, naked despair in his friend's words.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," he promised, his voice thick with emotion, and he saw the briefest flicker of hope flare in the Texan's eyes before he sagged back against his restraints, too exhausted and distressed to say anymore.

"I want him out of here now!"

Chris heard himself saying the words, but the tone was so strained that he almost didn't recognise his own voice. His whole attention was focussed on the stricken tracker until he heard a soft sigh behind him, convincingly regretful.

"You know I can't do that." The woman sounded genuinely sorry. "Besides, your other friend's will think he's already dead by now."

"What d'you mean?" The question was out before Chris could stop himself.

"Didn't you ever stop to wonder why Carlos was wearing Vin's clothes when he was shot? When they eventually find the body they'll think that poor Mr. Tanner has met an untimely end."

"Damn you!" Chris pushed himself to his feet, and turned to face her. The woman was nothing if not clever.

Ella stepped forward, staring up at him. "You forget - I know you too well. You must have told the others," she said, and then shrugged. "At least that will slow them down, and buy us some time."

The fuse was slowly burning down on Chris' anger; he glanced over his shoulder at the almost unconscious Vin, and a few more seconds ticked away.

"I'm warning you, Ella - let him go!"

She shook her head and smiled. "My - aren't we forceful? This must be what your precious Sarah found so exciting in her dull little life."

Nobody was prepared for what Chris did next, least of all Ella. With an inarticulate cry of rage, the gunslinger lunged forward, all the fury and frustration he had been holding in check spilling out in her direction. His hands closed about her throat, and he saw the sudden fear in her eyes as her scream was choked off.

The next person to move was Farrell, and he rushed forward, wrenching the gunslinger's hands away. Using all his weight, he flung Chris back against the wall, slamming his head hard against the stone. Larabee hung there, dazed for a moment and, before he could move, Farrell had whipped his fist up, catching Chris across the jaw. Pain exploded through him and he dropped to his knees, totally unprepared for the kick that drove the breath from his body, leaving him retching. A hand grabbed at his hair, pulling his head up, and he steeled himself for the next blow, but it never fell.

Looking up, through blurred vision, he saw Hamilton dragging Farrell away. With a harsh cough, he doubled over and threw up, staying on his hands and knees as he tried to drag some air into his lungs.

Tom Hamilton was beginning to have his doubts about this job. When Ella Gaines had first employed him, the pay had been sufficiently high that he didn't want to ask questions. His services were for hire, and if the hirer was an attractive, well-paying woman, then so much the better. Now he wasn't so sure.

He had heard a lot about Chris Larabee and the other six men who protected Four Corners, and he had looked upon it as a challenge to go up against them. He might be a hired gun, who had killed many a man in the past, but he held a grudging respect for his current opponents. The way Ella Gaines had treated the tracker went against his own particular scruples - even a dog shouldn't be kept in those conditions! - and when Farrell had told him, in graphic detail, of her second 'visit' to the cell, he was positively sickened. He was the one who been giving Vin the water; he hadn't wanted to risk bringing him food, but at least he hadn't let the Texan go thirsty.

When he had heard the commotion in the cell, he had run in from his position by the stairs to find Ella leaning against the wall, her hand massaging her throat, and Farrell trying to drag Chris to his feet. Grabbing the other gunman from behind, Hamilton hauled him away from the dazed gunslinger.

"How dare you!" Ella's voice throbbed with fury as she turned on Farrell, and the man was mystified by her reaction.

"But, Ella - " His words were cut off as her hand lashed out, catching him a stinging blow across the cheek.

"Get him out of my sight!" she told Hamilton, and the hired gun drew his Colt, waving it in Farrell's direction.

"You heard the lady," he growled. "Get out." He watched from the doorway as the man went, throwing a murderous glance over his shoulder. It was difficult to know who it was aimed at, but Hamilton guessed the gunslinger was a prime candidate now.

"Are you alright, Chris?" Ella crouched down beside the man in black, laying one hand solicitously on his shoulder.

"Bitch!" the gunslinger hissed though bloodied lips, and he tried to push her away, but instead he just toppled forward, curling up as he tried to ease the pain in his stomach. He gritted his teeth as she ran her fingers through his hair, letting her hand linger on his bruised cheek before getting up and moving away.

"I think it's time we were getting back," she said, and turned to Hamilton. "Help him, Tom."

The gunman reached up and unhooked the lantern, handing it to the woman before he pulled Chris to his feet. The gunslinger staggered and tried to hold back, unwilling to leave Vin alone again, but Hamilton forced him forward.

As the door slowly closed, and the unforgiving darkness pressed in on him again, Vin could feel his mind retreating into the warm, safe corner he had found. Terrified and alone, he still managed to find a small spark of energy from somewhere, and he raised his head to stare unseeingly at the spot where he had last seen his friend.

"Chris."

His voice was a lost, plaintive whisper, but there was nobody there to hear it.

+ + + + + + +

"Slow down, Buck!"

Nathan made the comment as he urged his mount alongside the fast-moving grey, and he glanced across at the grim expression of the man on its back. There was a sense of urgency to the pace the ladies man was setting, but Nathan could see little point in wearing the horses out too quickly. However, the other man appeared not to have heard him.

"Buck!" Nathan's second shout had the desired effect, and Wilmington turned in his saddle to look at him.

"What's wrong?" Buck eased back on the reins, slowing the grey to a steady canter as he waited for the healer to speak again.

"We gotta slow down a bit. We're pushing ourselves too hard."

Buck's face was determined. "Don't you think we've wasted enough time already?"

It was late morning, and they had been on the trail for less than an hour. Their plans for setting out at first light had been forestalled by the burial of Lucy Harris; only a handful of people had attended the funeral, the owner of Digger Dan's and some of his girls, as well as Mary Travis and the peacekeepers. As Josiah read the Lesson, the townspeople were conspicuous by their absence.

The delay had done nothing to improve Buck's temper, and he, Ezra, and JD in particular, were desperate to be on the move. Consequently, he was the one who had set the pace when they were finally able to leave.

"The girl deserved a decent burial," Nathan pointed out, and he saw the flicker of guilt in Buck's eyes.

"I know," he agreed. "It's just that - " He stopped, and the healer nodded in understanding. They all felt the same way; knowing Chris and Vin were in the clutches of Ella Gaines was making them all a little crazy, and the need to get out and find them was overwhelming.

The five men rode on in silence, keeping to a more sensible speed now as they headed towards the place where Buck, Josiah, and Nathan had lost sight of Chris the previous day. They continued south for a while, until JD drew rein and gave a sudden shout.

"Look! What's that?"

The others had halted beside him, and it was Ezra who made the identification. "It looks like a rider - and he's in a hurry!"

They waited as the distant speck drew nearer, taking on the more recognisable form of a dark figure on a dark horse.

"It's gotta be Chris!" JD sounded excited, and he started to spur his horse forward, but Buck grabbed at the bridle.

"Hold on, kid. We don't know that for sure."

Their disappointment could almost be felt as the rider got closer, and they could see that Buck was right. It wasn't Chris. As the man on the dark brown horse approached, Josiah kneed his own mount forward a few feet.

"What's your hurry, friend?" he asked. The newcomer pulled his horse to a snorting stop, and leaned on the saddle horn to catch his breath.

"I need to get to a Sheriff," he said, mopping his face with his bandana.

"What's your problem?" Buck moved up alongside Nathan, his tone menacing, and the stranger glanced at him nervously, pulling back on the reins. His horse threw up its head and backed away slightly, turning side on as it moved.

"Buck."

Ezra's softly spoken word made the ladies man glance round at him, and he followed the Southerner's pointing finger. There, hanging by its storm strap from the horn of the brown's saddle, was a light-coloured cavalry hat.

"Where'd you get this?" Buck growled, leaning forward to snatch up the hat. His eyes were like flint as he glared at the man.

"Back there a-ways. I saw a couple of fellas dump a body over a cliff. That's why I gotta find a Sheriff!"

"Well, you've found five, my friend," Josiah told him. "We've come from Four Corners. Now, where did you see - "

"Sweet Jesus!" The gasp came from Nathan, interrupting Josiah, as he took the hat from Buck. Only now did the ladies man take a proper look at it, and his face went white. There was a small scorched hole in the back of the hat, just above the brim, but the front was a mess. There was a gaping rent in the front of the crown, and it was liberally coated with dried blood and strands of long brown hair, as well as other, less easily identifiable fragments.

With a snarl of rage, Buck reached out and grabbed the front of the man's shirt, dragging him forward almost out of the saddle.

"Show me!"

He shoved the man back, allowing him to turn his horse's head, and then he touched spurs to the grey, sending it leaping after the other one. JD urged his mount forward, until he was racing alongside the healer.

"Nathan?" he yelled, in query.

"It's Vin's hat."

There was nothing more that needed to be said.

It took a little over twenty minutes of hard riding to reach the spot where the man had seen a body apparently disposed of.

The terrain had become a bit more rocky, with high buttes rising from the desert floor to one side, and dropping away sharply on the other. The man reined his horse in about a mile along the steep trail, and slid from the saddle.

"Down there."

Buck was the first of them to leap down and peer over the edge. The steep drop was dotted with scrubby bushes, making a clear view of the bottom almost impossible, but he could see enough. The body was wedged amongst a scattering of rocks, and although the distance was too great to distinguish any features, to Buck's mind there was no mistaking the light coloured pants and the fringed coat.

"What can you see?" Nathan asked, but the ladies man didn't reply. His shoulders slumped, and he continued to stare over the edge, but his disbelieving eyes couldn't really take in what he was seeing.

"Buck?" JD's hesitant voice finally got through, and Buck turned to look at the others, the answer to the unasked question etched on his grief-stricken face. "Noooo!!" The desperate denial was torn from the young peacekeeper, and he flung himself from his horse, rushing across to see for himself. As he reached the edge he almost lost his footing, but Buck reached out and grabbed him, holding on tightly as he pulled him away a few paces.

"There's nothing we can do, kid," he said softly, his chin almost resting on JD's shoulder, and he could feel the young man quivering with emotion.

"Dear Lord!" Nathan dropped from his horse and joined the other two, placing a firm hand on JD's shoulder and squeezing gently. Josiah murmured a brief prayer as he crossed himself and then dismounted, until only Ezra remained in the saddle. The gambler was too stunned to move, and he bowed his head in silent grief as the stranger backed away from the other four and spoke to him.

"Did you know him?" he asked, even though it was obvious.

"He was a very good friend," Ezra replied, his voice breaking.

JD felt Nathan's hand on his shoulder, and he gave him a quick side-long glance, seeing the finality on the healer's face, but he wasn't prepared to let Vin go like that. Struggling out of Buck's grasp he made a dash for his horse, snatching up the rope that was hooked on the saddle. Shaking out the plaited manila, he fastened one end to the saddle horn.

"What the hell are you doing?" Buck asked the question as JD fed the rope out over the drop.

"We can't just do nothing! He might still be alive." JD didn't really believe it himself, but he was ready to deny the inevitable until he had certain proof. Before anybody could stop him, he was lowering himself over the edge, scrabbling for a purchase as the loose gravel suddenly moved beneath his feet.

"JD!"

There was panic in Buck's voice as the young peacekeeper began to slide further down, and he dropped to his knees, his hand reaching out to fasten around the youngster's wrist. Josiah reacted just as quickly, catching hold of JD's right arm and helping Buck to haul him back up.

"That was a damn fool thing to try."

The young peacekeeper's eyes flashed dangerously as he rounded on Buck, pulling angrily away from him.

"You gotta let me try! We can't just leave him!"

The ladies man gripped his shoulders fiercely, fingers digging painfully into his flesh. "You saw the hat - he's beyond our help now." Buck hated himself for being so hard, but he didn't want JD to harbour any false hopes.

"But - " JD stopped, and he lowered his gaze quickly before the others could see the tell-tale glitter of tears in his eyes.

"Buck's right, son." Josiah's voice sounded just behind him, deep and concerned. "All you're gonna do is get yourself killed - and Vin wouldn't want that."

There was nothing else Josiah could have said that would have stopped JD the way those words did, and he knew the ex-preacher was right. Turning away, he walked slowly back towards his horse, leaning against the saddle as he tried to hide his misery.

With a heavy heart, Nathan turned to the stranger who had lead them here. "Did you see which way they went?"

"Yeah! They headed east across the desert." The man gathered up the reins of his horse and swung into the saddle. "You say you're from Four Corners? Well, if you need me, that's where I'll be."

"We'll remember that," the healer promised. The man kneed his horse forward a little way, and looked down at Buck.

"I'm real sorry about your friend."

As Donnelly rode away, a slow smile spread across his face as he congratulated himself on a job well done. It had been easier than he had imagined to convince the peacekeepers that their friend was dead.

Luck had played right into his hands with the chance meeting on the trail; it had saved him the long ride into town, and now he could double back and meet up with the other two, safe in the knowledge that he had sent the lawmen in completely the wrong direction.

Ella would be most pleased with him.

+ + + + + + +

As the door closed and was locked behind him, Chris sank down on the edge of the bed, and rested his chin in his hands.

They had arrived back at the house a short time ago, and he had felt an odd sense of relief when he was escorted back to the guest room. He needed time away from Ella; time to try and come to terms with just what the woman had done, particularly to Vin. His feeling of guilt was almost unbearable; he knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that if he had listened to Vin, or shot Ella when he had the chance, then the Texan wouldn't be suffering the tortures of the damned now.

Pushing everything else aside, Chris' biggest fear was for the tracker's sanity. He couldn't even begin to imagine how the confinement in the small, dark cell was affecting him, but he had seen for himself the sheer torment and despair when he had looked into his friend's eyes. If he managed to get them both out of this alive, the mental scars would take a very long time to heal.

There was a very good reason why he had tried to create the image of the lone gunslinger; it was a facade to protect himself from the hurt that was caused by allowing people to get too close. After the deaths of Sarah and Adam, he had almost perfected the art - until that fateful day in Four Corners, and a chance meeting of eyes across a dusty street when his life changed once again. It had taken him a long time to acknowledge the fact that he cared about the people in that town, and in particular the six men who shared the peacekeeping duties with him.

Buck was a friend of long-standing; even though he was a constant reminder of what had been, and what was lost, the strength of their ties had endured. However, new bonds had been formed, strengthening but not replacing the old ones, and it was his affinity with Vin that had started to draw him from his shell, giving him the opportunity to begin enjoying life again.

But he could see now that friendship was a double-edged blade; it was his connection with Vin that had brought about this situation, and he cursed it. However, the alternative was never to have allowed the tracker to get under his skin. Despite everything, the good outweighed the bad, and he couldn't imagine going through the day-to-day routine of life without having Vin there to laugh with, and drink with, and to share with.

With a groan, Chris ran his hands through his hair. His head had already been aching from Farrell's attack, and now he could feel the tension pressing on his temples with renewed vigour. He was tired and hurting, and the blindfolded ride back had been a nightmare, but anxiety would still not allow him the luxury of rest, and he had no idea how long he had been sitting there. His muscles protested as he pushed himself up, stripping off his grimy shirt before crossing to the wash-stand.

He poured some of the water from the jug into the basin and, as he leaned forward, he caught sight of someone in the mirror. Hazel eyes stared out of a strained face, and he didn't recognise himself until the image lifted a hand to rub at the dried blood around his mouth at the same time he did. Scooping up the water, he scrubbed his face vigorously, dampening his hair in an attempt to freshen himself up. He could feel the stiffness in his shoulders now, and dark bruises were beginning to show on his chest.

As he reached for the towel, he suddenly became aware that there was someone standing behind him, and he whirled round to face a smiling Ella. She held a tray covered with a white cloth, but it was the appreciative look on her face as she studied his bare torso that really made him feel unclean.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to startle you."

The hairs on the back of Chris' neck were standing on end as she spoke. For the first time he truly appreciated what Josiah had said about her state of mind. Ella obviously believed that what she was doing was perfectly normal and that nothing was wrong, and that scared the gunslinger. There was no telling what she would do next - having Carlos killed had proven that - and he knew that his and Vin's survival depended on the whim of a madwoman!

"What d'you want?" he snarled, careful not to make any threatening moves towards her. He was conscious of the man lounging in the doorway, his gun already in his hand, and it gave him a small thrill of satisfaction to see that she was a little bit afraid of him. He also noticed the silk scarf that she wore around her throat; his hands had obviously left some mark that she was trying to hide.

She smiled brightly and indicated the tray in her hands.

"I've brought you something to eat."

Chris glared at her with undisguised loathing, but she seemed unconcerned as she walked away and placed the tray on a small chest near the bed.

"I ain't hungry," he retorted and went over to the pile of fresh clothes and picked up a clean shirt. As he had expected, it fitted him perfectly and was of the finest quality cotton. Ezra would certainly have approved. The thought of the dapper gambler brought a wistful smile to his lips, but that quickly vanished as he realised that he and Vin might never see any of the others again.

"Some tea then?" Ella offered, turning towards him, a china cup and saucer in her hand. With an exasperated sigh - and prepared to do anything that would get her out of the room quicker - the gunslinger fastened the last few buttons of his shirt and stalked over to snatch up the cup. Downing the contents in one gulp, he slammed it back down on the saucer, almost smashing the fragile china.

"There, satisfied? Now get out!"

She smiled again and returned the empty cup to the tray and picked up her own before perching on the edge of the bed.

"I can understand you're upset about Vin," she simpered, taking a sip of her tea. "But he did rather bring it on himself."

Chris stared at her, his hands curling into fists. A movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to the fact that the hired gun was still by the doorway, and he struggled to remain calm.

"He shouldn't have pried into my private affairs," Ella went on, her eyes fixed on his face. "He ruined everything for us, my love. Now he must pay the price."

He knew she was deliberately trying to bait him, and he could feel the rage building up inside, but as he took a step towards her, a wave of dizziness struck him and he staggered slightly.

"Are you all right, Chris?" Ella asked solicitously, rising swiftly to her feet and setting her cup down. "Here, come and sit down," she said, taking him by the arm. He opened his mouth to protest, but his vision blurred alarmingly as free will deserted him, and he felt himself being lead over and pushed down on the side of the bed. The blood pounded rapidly in his temples and the room seemed to tilt wildly to one side. The gunslinger wondered what the hell was wrong with him, but then with sudden clarity he turned and looked at the empty cup on the chest.

"What... did you put in… there?" he forced out, through gritted teeth.

"Just a little something to make you relax," Ella answered. "You got precious little sleep last night. I could hear you pacing about."

"Damn you," he hissed, as the darkness began to crowd in on him

"Lie down," she said, placing both hands on his chest and pushing him back against the pillows. "You must get some rest so you'll be able to enjoy the celebrations tomorrow evening." Her voice seemed to be coming from a great distance now, and Chris felt his eyes begin to close as lethargy swept over him.

"Celebrations... ?" he mumbled. "What... celebrations?"

"Why, our wedding of course." Ella exclaimed happily. "I have the preacher coming tomorrow to conduct the service. A very nice man - an old friend of my late husband. We'll soon be together forever - Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Larabee!"

Chris was still conscious enough for those last words to freeze his blood and he tried to force out a denial, but he felt himself slipping into a black void. Seated on the edge of the bed, Ella watched as his eyes slowly closed and his breathing became deeper. Reaching out her hand, she tenderly smoothed back the dark blond hair and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his pallid brow.

"Sleep well, my love," she murmured. "I can wait one more night."

+ + + + + + +

For a long time the only sound that could be heard around the clearing was the spit and crackle of the campfire, and the restless movement of the horses, picketed just beyond the circle of light.

After the devastating discovery at the ravine, the five peacekeepers followed the tracks that Buck had found. There were the distinctive signs of three horses milling about at the very spot where the body had gone over the edge and, as they moved away, it was clear that one of the animals was rider-less and being lead. The hoof prints were much shallower, and closer to those of another, a certain sign that it was being lead by a man on horseback. It also made it easier to follow.

They had pushed on at a reasonable pace, but eventually they had run out of daylight without catching up to the killers. Rather than run the risk of losing the trail completely in the dark, they had reluctantly decided to make camp for the night.

There was little conversation as they unsaddled and watered the horses, each man lost in his own thoughts. It was Josiah who saw to the practicalities of a fire and coffee, but nobody had the appetite for food. As they sat around, sipping the strong brew, JD suddenly threw his into the fire, placed the cup on the ground and pushed himself to his feet.

"JD?" Buck called his name, concerned by the way the normally ebullient young peacekeeper had withdrawn into himself over the last few hours, but JD ignored him, wandering into the darkness a little way from the camp. The ladies man started to go after him, but Ezra placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Why don't you just let him deal with this himself? Stop treating him like a child."

It was unfortunate that Ezra had to be the one to intervene; all Buck's grief and anger came spilling out, and the gambler was caught in the backlash.

"You don't just 'deal' with something like this!" he exploded. "He's upset!"

"We all are," the Southerner pointed out, but Buck wasn't ready to listen to him. His grief over Vin, as well as his concern for Chris, had been building up all day, and he felt the need to lash out at somebody. Ezra had just made himself available.

"Oh, yeah," he grated out. "I saw just how upset you were! You couldn't even get off your horse! Is it too much to expect you to think about somebody else for a change, and actually show a little feeling?"

Josiah and Nathan had been watching the two men, realising that the events of the day had pushed them all to the limit of their emotions, but now the healer felt he had to say something.

"That ain't fair, Buck. We're all upset about Vin."

"Except him!"

A stony silence followed Buck's words, and the gambler carefully put his cup down and slowly climbed to his feet. Staring the ladies man in the eye, he gave a soft sigh.

"I stand corrected. JD's not the child around here."

It took Buck at least five seconds to realise what Ezra meant, and by that time the gambler had turned to walk away. Nathan and Josiah could see the trouble about to erupt, but they were too late to stop it.

"Why you… " Buck grabbed Ezra by the shoulder and spun him around, his fist catching the unprepared gambler square on the jaw. The Southerner was sent sprawling, and Nathan leapt to his feet, hurrying across to his side.

"Ezra? You okay?" He helped the dazed man sit up and saw the blood on his mouth, but the gambler shook off his hand, rose unsteadily to his feet and slowly walked away. The healer glanced up at Buck, an annoyed expression on his face.

"I hope that makes you feel better," he said as he followed the gambler into the darkness.

"Dammit to hell!" Buck cursed, glancing first at the healer's disappearing back and then across at JD, before he realised Josiah was watching him. "What? I suppose you're gonna tell me I'm a fool as well?"

The ex-preacher shook his head. "You don't need me to tell you that. You just gotta remember that people deal with loss in different ways."

"I know." Buck felt the anger drain out of him, leaving only numbness as he looked across at JD again, seeing the stiff set of the youngster's shoulders as he sat on a rock with his back to them. "Sometimes I just need reminding."

With that he walked over and perched himself beside JD. Neither man spoke for a while, and then Buck broke the silence.

"Hey, kid."

The young peacekeeper gave an audible sniff, and dragged his sleeve across his eyes before he replied.

"I can't believe he's gone, Buck," he whispered in a strained voice. The ladies man didn't know what to say at first; he thought about what Josiah had said, and his own spiteful words to Ezra, but at the end of the day they had all lost a very close friend.

"We'll catch the bastards who did it, JD - and that's a promise!"

The youngster turned to look at Buck, his lashes still slightly damp with tears. "What about Chris? D'you think he knows?"

"That's what I'm afraid of." Buck knew his own anger stemmed from fear; the very real fear that Chris would do something rash if he found out Vin was dead. "He's likely to get himself killed."

"Then I guess we'll just have to find him soon."

PART 3

They set out early the next morning - those five men on a mission.

Buck had picked up the trail again, and they had been forced to set aside their grief in a quest for revenge and an attempt to find Chris.

They had followed the signs for a few hours now, but it was Nathan who first noticed that they appeared to have come full circle. Another fifteen minutes would find them almost back at the exact spot where they had met the stranger the previous day, and they were beginning to doubt his honesty now. Finally Buck called them to a halt.

"God dammit!" he swore, his voice angry and bitter. "How could we have been so stupid? He was one of them!"

Nobody needed to ask what he meant; they all knew they had been duped now by the 'concerned' stranger, and it left a sour taste in their mouths. If they had only stopped to think things through, instead of racing off to follow a false trail, they wouldn't have wasted so much precious time.

"So what do we do now?" The question came from JD, looking to the ladies man for leadership, but it was Ezra who replied.

"I should think the most obvious option would be to follow his trail and see where it leads."

Buck glanced at the gambler sharply, but his anger quickly evaporated when he saw the bruise on his jaw. He knew he ought to say something, but now didn't seem the appropriate moment. Dropping from the back of his grey, Buck peered intently at the ground, checking out the new prints. After a moment he straightened, a puzzled frown on his face.

"This don't make no sense at all," he said. "He's headed straight back to town, just like he said!"

"Let's just follow it and see," Josiah replied, not entirely convinced.

As they set off once more, it was Ezra who couldn't help thinking that Vin would have followed the signs with the unerring ability of a blue-tick hound. That thought was immediately swept away by his own pangs of conscience, and he cursed that moment of weakness that had caused him to doubt the tracker's integrity. Now he would never have the chance to apologise.

They wasted yet another hour following the stranger, only to discover that he had doubled back and joined up with the two they had been following earlier. Buck was almost beside himself with rage; the thought that one of Vin's killers had been within his grasp - and they had let him go! - was almost too much to bear.

His anger spurred the others on; it shook them out of their misery, and made them concentrate on the task at hand. As they headed south, across the unforgiving desert, it was Nathan who made the connection.

"Ain't this the way Chris rode the other day?" He glanced across at Josiah, and the ex-preacher nodded.

"Almost," he agreed. "He was heading south when we last saw him."

"Reckon they've crossed the border?" JD asked.

"Nope." Buck was pretty positive about this. "She always told Chris that Mexico was too uncivilised for her."

As they rode on, the countryside became even more inhospitable; the terrain was flat and almost featureless, and there was little sign of life. The ground was harder now, and Buck was forced to dismount to follow the tracks.

"Who in their right mind would want to live in this God-forsaken place?"

The comment came from Ezra as he glanced around at the desolate landscape, and his words brought a frown to Josiah's face. It was Nathan who noticed that the ex-preacher had stopped a few minutes later.

"What's up?" he said, as he turned his horse and rode back towards him. Josiah pushed his hat back, and ran his fingers through his curly hair.

"It was something Ezra said," he told the healer. "I think I know where they might be heading."

+ + + + + + +

When Chris finally stirred it was almost midday, and sunlight was streaming through the window.

He lay where he was for the moment, feeling the comfort of the bed beneath him as he tried to work out what had happened. The pounding of his head, and his fierce thirst, gave him cause to remember Ella's last visit, and the sleeping draught she had slipped into his tea. Like an unsuspecting fool he had drunk it down - even he hadn't realised the lengths to which she'd go - and he had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As he pushed back the quilt and swung his legs off the bed, he winced as sore and stiffened muscles protested. He could still feel the ache in his ribs where Farrell's boot had caught him, but at least nothing felt broken. Before he had the chance to get up and stretch his cramped limbs, he heard the door being unlocked, and his heart sank. Chris didn't know how much more of Ella's taunting he could stomach; before too long he was going to do something really rash and probably get himself killed before he had the chance to get Vin out of her clutches.

"Good morning," Ella greeted, as she breezed into the room. She was closely followed by two Mexican girls, one carrying soap, a razor, and a jug of hot water, and the other with a suit of clothes on a hanger. Behind all three was Hamilton, his gun at the ready. "Did you sleep well?"

Chris remained sitting on the edge of the bed, but he eyed the clothes and the shaving kit dispassionately.

"What the hell's all this?"

After the suit had been hung up, and the water and shaving materials placed on the washstand, Ella waved the two girls away, but Hamilton stayed. The woman eyed Chris in surprise as she poured some of the hot water into the basin.

"Surely you haven't forgotten what today is? You must look presentable for our wedding ceremony."

Chris couldn't suppress the shudder that rippled down his spine. Nothing that happened seemed to phase this woman; remembering the way she had signed the letter to him after he was wounded at her ranch, it was as though her grasp on reality had slipped away. She was living in a fantasy world, and he didn't know which way she would turn next.

"Don't you understand - there ain't gonna be any ceremony!" He pushed himself to his feet, his tone and posture threatening, but Ella didn't appear to be unduly worried. Picking up the cut-throat razor, she opened the blade, staring at it in fascination as sunlight glinted off the edge.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, my love." The face she turned to him was grimly determined, and Chris could see the conviction in her eyes. "I'll have your co-operation, one way or another. Or must I remind you what will happen to Vin if I don't get it? Farrell would take great pleasure in carrying out my orders."

Chris knew with absolute certainty that this was no idle threat, but he was equally determined not to let her get away with it, and his voice was low and full of menace when he spoke.

"If anything happens to Vin, I'll take you to Hell with me."

Ella laughed, but it rang hollow; she knew that she held a mountain lion by the tail, and there was no letting go now.

"Well, at least we both know where we stand," she said, dropping the razor onto the table. She had thought about offering to shave him, but now her anger was getting the better of her. Under the circumstances she realised she couldn't trust herself with the blade; the temptation to simply cut his throat might prove too great. "I'll see you downstairs later - and don't keep me waiting!"

+ + + + + + +

"So what is this place?"

The comment came from Buck as he tucked himself into the crevice beside Josiah.

"It was the mission of San Sebastian," the ex-preacher replied. "But the priests left here some years back when Juarez and his band began raiding across the river."

Josiah's hunch had proven to be correct; he had lead the others south towards the border with Mexico, until they had reached a rocky outcrop overlooking the sprawling house, just a few miles short of the Rio Grande.

They had found a secluded spot to leave the horses, and had been watching the house for some time now. There was a lot of movement in the courtyard just beyond the low wall; riders coming and going, covered wagons being unloaded, and lanterns being strung along the front edge of the porch.

It was Ezra who spotted the black horse in the corral, but from this distance nobody could tell for sure that it belonged to Chris. One thing was certain though - whoever owned the house was obviously planning a large party.

"So much for your deserted mission." Nathan's voice sounded close to Josiah's ear, and the ex-preacher gave him a big grin.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," he said softly.

"But why would Ella want to live out here?" JD asked. "It's miles from anywhere!"

Buck pointed at the guard on the roof, and the man lounging by the stone archway. "That's exactly it, kid. Just look at it," he said. "It's secluded, easily defendable, and close enough to the border for her to make her escape."

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Nathan put in. "How do we know for certain this is the right place?"

Before anyone could answer Ezra leaned forward and pointed. "Gentlemen, I believe we have our proof."

As they watched, a buckboard stopped by the porch, and a woman emerged from the house. It didn't need Buck's exclamation for them to know that it was Ella Gaines. They saw her speak to the driver and hand him a white envelope, then the wagon was moving, heading out of the gate and along the trail.

"Now where d'you suppose he's off to?" Nathan speculated.

"Who the hell cares?" Buck exploded. He was ready to storm the house single-handed now he had seen Ella. "She's killed Vin - and she's got Chris!"

"But where has she got Chris?" Josiah's was the voice of reason. "There's no point in rushing in until we know for sure." Buck opened his mouth to protest, but Ezra jumped in first.

"Perhaps the gentleman with the buckboard could be... persuaded… to give us a little information?" he commented, and Nathan gave him a wide smile.

"Sometimes, Ezra, you're a genius."

The elderly servant on the seat of the buckboard was allowing the horse to amble along at its own speed. He was in no hurry; the mistress had made it quite clear what his task was, and how long it should take him, and she wasn't expecting him back too soon.

His mind was elsewhere as he half-dozed in the afternoon sun, until a voice suddenly snapped him out of his reverie.

"Pardon me, sir. A moment of your time, if you please."

He hauled back on the reins, and studied the smartly dressed young man standing on the trail just in front of the horse.

"Senor? What is it?" As he spoke, he heard the sharp click of a gun being cocked, and he turned to find another man - even younger than the first - standing beside the wagon, a revolver pointed at him. "Please - I have nothing to steal!"

"Just get down," JD ordered, waving his gun at the man. Ezra grabbed the horse's bridle as the servant let go of the reins and climbed down from the seat. Raising his hands above his head, the man turned a terrified face to the young peacekeeper.

"Please - I have no money."

"We don't aim to rob you, friend." Josiah came up behind him, and checked for any concealed weapons. "All we want is some information."

"But I know nothing!"

"Don't waste our time!" Buck growled, thrusting the man back against the wagon. "What the hell has she done with Chris? She's got him there somewhere!" Even now Buck was reluctant to say her name, but the servant knew who he meant.

"I do not know this 'Chris'," the man stammered. "But the mistress... she is getting married! To an Americano del Norte! I have to fetch the preacher."

For ten long seconds Buck stared at the man. "Married?" he said at length, his voice rising in disbelief. "Has he lost his mind?"

"I doubt that Mr. Larabee would be a willing participant in this particular affair," Ezra pointed out.

"Yeah, but at least we know he's still alive," Nathan said. It was Josiah, once again, who came up with a plan.

"Tell me - where were you going to meet this preacher?" he asked, placing an arm around the man's shoulders and giving him a charming smile.

+ + + + + + +

When the guard brought Chris down to the elegant drawing room, he almost couldn't believe his eyes.

He had raged impotently all afternoon at his enforced imprisonment, but there was little he could do about it. The armed guard had been back in place, and the bars at the window were better than those at the jail in Four Corners!

He had vented some of his frustration on the ornaments and trinkets on the bureau, and most of them lay in pieces on the floor where he'd swept them. When the door was unlocked, he was tensed and ready, but the guard had obviously been forewarned, and his gun was in his hand and cocked. Despite his fury, Chris wasn't ready to die just yet, and he allowed himself to be escorted downstairs.

It was early evening and, through the full length doors that lead out onto the porch, he could see that the light was beginning to fail. However, inside in the large, oak-panelled room candles illuminated every single corner

Throughout the room, sprays of delicately scented white and pink viburnum and sprigs of heady lilac provided the decoration, and against the far wall a long table was spread with all manner of delicacies, a veritable feast that had taken the kitchen staff all day to prepare.

As Chris stared about the room in disbelief, he heard the sound of light footfalls and the soft rustle of silk, and he turned as Ella made her entrance. If the situation hadn't been so grave, the gunslinger might have laughed out loud. Ella's seamstress had done her proud; the full-skirted cream silk bridal gown was a work of art, with swathes of delicate lace sewn at the cuffs and bodice. Candlelight warmed the circlet of peach flowers that she wore in her hair as she stepped forward with a radiant smile.

"Do you approve, my love?" she asked, turning in a circle to give him the full view.

For one of the few times in his life, Chris Larabee was at a complete loss. Until now, he hadn't really believed that Ella would try to follow through with her plan to marry him; he thought he had worked out just how obsessed she was with him, but never in his wildest dreams did he realise that the situation was this out of control. Buck's words came back to haunt him now; the woman had completely lost her reason!

Ella was staring at him, a frown creasing her brow as she looked him up and down, seeing the rumpled pants and shirt that had obviously been slept in.

"Why haven't you changed?" she demanded. "The preacher will be here soon."

Chris gave a harsh laugh. "You really haven't figgered it out yet, have you Ella? I'd rather die than marry you!"

The woman's face darkened, and her lips became a thin, tight line as she trembled with rage. "It won't be you that dies! Or are you happy for Vin to pay the price - just like your precious family did?"

This time Chris was ready for her taunts and, painful as it was, he forced his anger back down, trying to will himself calm. "How the hell're you gonna do that? He's miles from here - and you'd be dead before you could give the order!"

Now it was Ella's turn to laugh. "You don't know how wrong you are! Do you really think I'd let him that far out of my sight?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well... " Ella paused, savouring the moment as she toyed with a vase of flowers. "This house does have cellars, you know."

Her words hit Chris like a bucket of icy water, and he was stunned by the sheer duplicity of it all. The 'long' ride - the insistence on a blindfold - it had all been an elaborate ruse to distract him from the fact that Vin had been right under his feet all the time!

Without thinking, he took a step forward; all he wanted to do was grab her and squeeze the life from her deranged, heartless body. He sensed the guard behind him moving to stop him, and then he heard the sound of a gun being cocked as Ella turned, a revolver - his revolver! - levelled at his stomach.

"Don't make me use this, Chris," Ella told him, her eyes never leaving his face. The gunslinger halted, the desire to kill her and his desperate need to find Vin all but tearing him in two.

The decision was taken out of his hands as the sudden crackle of gunfire sounded from outside.

+ + + + + + +

Ella's servant had been very co-operative, and he had provided them with all the information they required. Once they knew he had to pick the preacher up from the town of Sequoia, they only needed to work out the time and distance to realise that they had to wait until just before dusk before putting their plan into action

As the wagon approached the stone archway the man on guard stepped forward, his rifle held in the crook of his arm, and forced it to stop. However, he had been forewarned that one of the house servants would be returning with a preacher - and the person seated next to the elderly Mexican fitted that description perfectly. The big, grey-haired man wearing the dark jacket, and with a heavy crucifix around his neck, bowed his head in greeting as the guard waved them through.

"Thank you, my son," the ex-preacher intoned, crossing himself. The guard touched his hat out of politeness, and then returned to his duties.

Josiah breathed a sigh of relief as they passed the first obstacle. He hadn't really expected any trouble from the servant - the knife in his left hand was too close to the man's kidneys for that - but he wasn't sure how the guard would react. In the end, the guard saw what he was expecting to see, and passed them through without any hesitation.

"Alright, amigo, you know what to do now."

Josiah's comment was whispered into the Mexican's ear as he kept the horse moving, past the house and towards the barn.

Waiting on the porch, Donnelly had had strict instructions from Ella to bring the preacher to the drawing room as soon as he arrived. He felt a moments irritation as the wagon moved away from the house and headed towards the barn, and his initial thought was that the doddering old fool had forgotten what he was supposed to do.

However, as the wagon disappeared into the barn without stopping, his suspicions were aroused. Stepping off the porch, he thumbed back the hammer of the rifle he was carrying, and slowly made his way across the courtyard.

As soon as the wagon was inside the barn, away from prying eyes, the servant brought it to a stop. Before he could move, or raise any kind of alarm, Josiah brought up his hand and caught him smartly behind the ear with the hilt of his knife. Easing the stunned man back in the seat, Josiah dropped down and flipped back the sheet of tarpaulin covering the back of the wagon.

"Let's go," he said, as the other four peacekeepers climbed from the back. As they started to spread out, trying to find the best vantage point, a raised voice halted them in their tracks.

"Hey, Ruiz - what's going on in there?"

Donnelly had glimpsed the sudden movement from the interior of the barn, and now he was convinced that something wasn't quite right. Even as he approached, he saw an unfamiliar figure dash from the entrance and drop into concealment behind the water trough beside the corral.

Bringing up the rifle, he snapped off a quick shot, but the weapon and its own particular idiosyncrasies were unfamiliar to him and he was way off target. Unfortunately for him, the intruders weren't!

As Ezra dived behind the safety of the trough, he heard the bullet whistle harmlessly over his head, but he wasn't prepared to give the man a second chance. Almost before he hit the ground, his Remington was out and he fired, and Donnelly was slammed back, the heavy calibre bullet catching him between the eyes, killing him instantly.

"There goes the element of surprise," the gambler murmured, as running feet and raised voices punctuated the evening.

+ + + + + + +

Farrell was beginning to feel a little superfluous.

All afternoon Ella had been busy checking the preparations for the evening's ceremony; he was unmoved by such niceties as catering and decoration, and he was feeling put out.

He still hadn't forgotten the way she had humiliated him in front of Hamilton and the gunslinger and, although the handprint had faded, his resentment hadn't. Now he had been dismissed like just another servant, with orders to find Hamilton, and he was thoroughly pissed.

Having checked the rest of the house and the bunkhouse with no success, and then discovering that Hamilton's horse was still in the barn, he came to the conclusion that there was only one other place the man could possibly be.

As he made his way through to the kitchen, cursing the numerous servants who impeded his progress as they hurried about with platters of food for the wedding feast, he couldn't help feeling a momentary pang of jealousy. After all he had done for her, Ella hadn't even given him a second glance. She was about to enter into a marriage with a man who hated her - a man who couldn't appreciate her the way he did. Even that damned tracker had had a taste of what she could offer, but he had been shut out.

As he stalked along the passageway, he began to wonder whether he could persuade one of the serving girls to console him later on. That thought was still in his mind as he approached the cell where Tanner was being held, and he was surprised to see the door slightly ajar and light spilling out. His fingers curled around the grip of his gun, but as he drew closer he could hear a voice - Hamilton's voice - and he relaxed slightly. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the cell and stared in confusion.

Hamilton was crouched down in front of the Texan, holding a canteen to his lips, and now he could hear what he was saying.

"Drink, dammit!" the man said. "She wouldn't give you a second chance."

"What the hell're you doing?" Farrell saw the guilty look that flitted across Hamilton's face as he spoke, and he knew that there was more to this than met the eye. "Does Ella know you're here?"

"She's not my keeper." Hamilton evaded the question as he rose to his feet. "Besides - she doesn't want him dead."

"It's only a matter of time," Farrell told him with a shrug. "He's about outlived his usefulness."

"So what d'you want anyway?"

"Ella sent me to find you. She wants you there when the preacher arrives."

Hamilton laughed. "Preacher? Do you really think Larabee's gonna go through with this sham of a wedding? The woman's crazy - and I'm getting out of here while I can."

Farrell gave him a scathing look. "I never figgered you for a coward."

"I ain't." Hamilton bristled angrily. "But I ain't a fool, either. Eventually his friends are gonna come looking for him, and I don't aim to be here when they do. Maybe you'd better think about that."

For a long moment Farrell stared at him; how could he run out on Ella at a time like this? Add to that the fact that Hamilton had been the one to spoil his fun with the gunslinger and pulled a gun on him... there were some things that simply could not be tolerated.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, forcing a smile to his face. "Maybe it is time to get out." Stepping forward, he held his hand out to Hamilton. "No hard feelings?"

Hamilton was surprised by the other's apparent acceptance of his decision and, without thinking, he held out his own hand. It was the last move he ever made.

With a savage grin, Farrell dragged him forward, and brought up his knife-filled right hand. The wickedly sharp blade drove up between Hamilton's ribs, piercing his lung and heart and stifling his scream of agony instantly. Bright blood bubbled from between his lips as Farrell withdrew the weapon, and he was dead before his body hit the floor.

"If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a lily-livered coward!" he hissed. A sudden groan caught his attention, and he turned to find a pair of bewildered blue eyes staring first at him, and then at the body sprawled on the floor. He advanced on the helpless tracker, the bloodstained knife held out before him. "Well now - you just signed your death warrant. I ain't leaving a witness." If Farrell had hoped to scare the Texan, he was about to be very disappointed.

"Just do it." There was an air of resignation in Vin's tone, as he forced the words out.

"So - Ella's little plaything isn't afraid to - " He stopped suddenly, and laughed nastily. He had seen the tracker's expression change at the mention of Ella's name, and saw the fear and loathing that had leapt into his eyes. "But you are afraid of her." Farrell seemed a little surprised by that revelation, and he knew how to turn it to his advantage. Crouching down in front of Vin he grabbed the Texan's hair, forcing him to look at him. He pushed his face close, and a leering grin curved his lips. "Didn't you enjoy her visit?" He felt the shudder that ran through the tracker's abused body, and heard him groan in despair. "Don't think I didn't hear what went on between you."

Vin's stomach churned with revulsion, and the sour taste of bile filled his mouth as he gagged, but he had nothing left to bring up. Gathering the last of his strength - and knowing that it might be his final act of defiance - he spat full in Farrell's face.

The man recoiled, almost tripping over his own feet as he sprang back, and dark fury clouded his face as he wiped the spittle off with his sleeve.

"That's it," he growled savagely. "I don't care what Ella says - now you're gonna die!"

+ + + + + + +

Farrell had taken no more than a step back towards the tracker when the sound of gunfire in the distance stopped him.

For a moment he considered ignoring the shooting, and carrying out his threat regardless, but then his perverted sense of loyalty took over. Ella was still paying him, and he needed to find some way to worm his way back into her favour. He had already decided to use the killing of Hamilton as an excuse; he planned to tell her that the hired gun was getting ready to run out on her - and take Vin with him! Hopefully she would come to appreciate his dedication, and reward him accordingly.

The gunfire sounded closer now, and fairly sustained, and at the end of the day, the Texan wasn't going anywhere.

"I guess you just got lucky," he told Vin. "But I'll be back to finish the job."

Thrusting his knife back into its sheath, he drew his gun and went, leaving the door standing wide open behind him.

+ + + + + + +

Ella was the first to react to the sound of gunshots, and she turned on the guard standing just behind Chris. "Go and see what's happening!" she ordered. The man looked at her uncertainly, but Ella's glare - and the gun in her hand - was enough to get him moving. "I'll be fine. Just go!"

As the man hurried to obey her order, Chris started to laugh, and it wasn't a pleasant sound to Ella's ears.

"What's so amusing?" she demanded.

"Don't you know who's out there? Haven't you guessed? They're coming for you - and this time there's no escape!" Chris' grin was savage and triumphant, although he kept a wary eye on the gun in her hand. He knew she would use it if he pushed her too far, too fast.

"No!" Ella almost screamed at him. "They'll ruin everything!"

Chris took a step closer to her and, if looks could kill, she would have dropped at his feet. "Lady, you did that yourself when you murdered my family." His words were little more than a whisper, but there was no disguising his hatred and disgust.

"But I loved you!" Ella cried, her voice breaking, and she brought the gun up level with his heart, and pulled back the hammer. "And no-one else can have you."

Chris froze, feeling the sweat trickling down between his shoulder-blades; he realised he had reached the point of no return. As he considered his next, potentially fatal, move, the sound of running footsteps drew his attention. Ella heard them too, and she turned as the door was suddenly thrown open.

For a gut-wrenching moment, Chris thought it might really be Buck or one of the others coming in, and he gasped as Ella instinctively pulled the trigger.

There was a grunt of surprise from Farrell as the bullet slammed into his chest; he saw her standing there, a faint wisp of blue smoke curling from the muzzle of the gun in her hand, and he died without knowing why she had shot him.

Chris couldn't hide the relief that washed over him as Farrell crumpled sideways, knocking over one of the floor-standing candelabras that were placed about the room, and he used the distraction to make his move. Unfortunately, Ella heard him, and she turned quickly as he made a grab for her.

Reaching out, Chris caught hold of her wrists, and the fingers of his left hand closed about the barrel of the gun. He shook her, trying to wrest the weapon from her grasp, but she held on grimly. Her hair tumbled from beneath the flowered head-dress, and peach coloured petals drifted to the floor and were crushed underfoot. However, desperation and madness gave her strength, and she held on to the Colt with a vice-like grip. The gunslinger tried to force her hands up and to the side, and he heard the sharp click as her finger tightened on the trigger, and she cocked the gun for the second time.

The report echoed around the room, and Ella's eyes widened in surprise as the gun went off. She gasped, and the revolver fell from her lax fingers as she staggered back, watching in horrified disbelief as Chris dropped to the floor.

"Chris!" With a despairing cry, she fell to her knees beside him, her fingers trying to wipe away the mask of blood that covered his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she intoned, bowing her head over the fallen man. "Chris - wake up!" As she leaned closer, and pressed her face to his, the band of peach flowers slipped from her head and lay like a halo on the floor beside him. .

"What have I done?" she moaned, when the gunslinger didn't stir or respond to her pleas. Tears streaked her face as she sat up, and she stared at her bloodstained hands in confusion. With a sob, she pushed herself to her feet, wiping her fingers down the front of her gown as she backed away from the still form of the gunslinger.

Oblivious to what lay behind her, she stumbled as her heel caught the outstretched legs of Farrell, and she tripped over backwards. Scrambling away from the body, she was brought to a halt by the doorframe, and she drew her knees up, clasping her arms around them as she rocked gently back and forth.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated over and over again, her eyes never leaving the blood-streaked face of Chris Larabee.

+ + + + + + +

As soon as Donnelly took a shot at Ezra, all hell broke loose.

JD was the next to leave the safety of the stable, just as the gambler killed Donnelly, and he had almost made it to the next piece of cover when a man in the bunkhouse next to the barn made his presence known.

As the young peacekeeper crossed the open ground towards the corral, the man smashed the window of the bunkhouse and brought his rifle up. Fire blazed from the barrel of the Sharps, and JD dropped with a pain-filled cry. Buck was watching from just inside the barn entrance and he swore viciously but, taking careful aim, he cut the man down without a second thought.

"Nathan - JD's been hit!" he yelled. He darted out, the healer close behind him, weaving an erratic course as the man on the roof started firing in their direction. Josiah covered them from the doorway, loosing off a volley of shots, and he saw the man on the house drop his rifle over the edge and reel back, clutching at his shoulder.

As Buck and Nathan reached the corral, they were relieved to find JD propped up against the lower rail, his gun still in his hand.

"Kid - you okay?" Buck dropped down beside him, keeping a watchful eye on the house as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah - it's my damn leg!" JD sounded more angry than hurt. "Sorry. I didn't see him."

"Nathan? How is it?"

The healer ripped open the tear in JD's pants, and studied the injury. "He'll live," he said, pulled off his bandana and forming it into a makeshift bandage. "The bullet's just grazed his thigh."

Back at the water trough, Ezra peered out just as Josiah scurried from the barn to join him.

"There's one in the bunkhouse," the ex-preacher said. "I saw him moving just now."

"Where is he then?"

Even as the gambler spoke, a horse came thundering from the barn. The two peacekeepers pulled back as the second man from the bunkhouse rode past, his horse already stretching out into a gallop, and he emptied his revolver in their general direction.

Three guns fired back, but only Buck found any kind of target. Another man, emerging from the house, had the hat whipped from his head, and he ducked back inside hurriedly as the man on the horse fled the property, picking up the guard from the gate as he went.

There was an eerie silence as the gunfire stopped, and Ezra and Josiah carefully peered over the water trough. There was no sign of any more of Ella's hired guns, and they wanted to check if JD was okay.

As they cautiously crossed the few feet towards the corral, Ezra came to a sudden stop by the man he had killed. As he studied the short-barrelled rifle that had dropped from the man's grasp, he realised he had seen it somewhere before. Almost reverently, he bent down to pick it up.

"I'll be dammed if I'll leave this behind," he said softly to himself, as he cradled Vin's sawn- off.Winchester in the crook of his arm.

+ + + + + + +

Ella didn't know how long she had been crouched on the floor beside Farrell's body, but she suddenly realised that the room was filling with smoke. Looking across to her right, she could see the fallen candelabra, and the flames licking at the material on the back of the chaise-longue.

Everything she had planned had all gone terribly wrong. She had killed the only man she had ever loved - on the eve of their wedding - and now her beautiful house had started to burn around her. There was only one thing she could do now.

Picking up Farrell's gun, she pushed herself to her feet, her expression determined. One man was the cause of all her problems and heartache; Vin Tanner had been the one to sow the seeds of doubt in Chris' mind long before Jack Avery had been killed. She had seen the tracker whispering his lies into the gunslinger's ears, and turning him against her. Now he had to die. As she slipped through the doorway, she cast a final, regretful look back at Chris. If only Vin hadn't interfered they could have spent the rest of their days blissfully happy.

The smell of burning was stronger now, and the heat was starting to rise as she stepped into the hallway. The front door burst open but, as she brought the gun up, she realised it was the man she had sent out a short time ago.

He came to a halt just inside the open front door, and stared at Ella in shock. The wild woman glaring at him now bore little resemblance to the elegant bride-to-be that he had left moments before.

The cream wedding gown was liberally coated with blood, and as his gaze travelled up to her face, he saw streaks of crimson marring one side of it. Her immaculate make-up was in ruins, and her long, dark hair hung in a tangled mess about her shoulders. But it was her eyes that disturbed him the most; there was no expression in them as she stared at him, a gun clutched in her hand.

"We've gotta get out of here, Ella. There's dozens of 'em out there!" the man said, but he wasn't prepared for her reaction.

"Get away from me!" she screamed as she turned and ran. The hired gun gaped for a brief moment, and then he realised that smoke was billowing from the room to his left. Turning to look, he saw the flames flickering up around the doorframe, and beyond that he could see the forms of Farrell and Chris Larabee.

He decided that now was the time to leave.

As the flames started to take a hold in the drawing room, Chris began to stir.

For a moment he couldn't remember what had happened, but as the smoke drifted across the room and started to make him cough, everything came back with startling clarity.

He rolled over onto his side with a groan; his head felt as though it were about to split in two, and he could feel the blood trickling down the side of his face.

His outstretched hand encountered something hard, and his fingers closed instinctively about the familiar bone grip of his Colt. Ella had used the gun on Farrell and then, quite by accident, on him but now self-preservation was beginning to take over.

Forcing himself to his knees, he blinked to try and clear his blurred vision. He could hear the crackle of fire around him, and feel the heat washing over him, and he knew he had to get out fast - or die!

The doorway in front of him was well ablaze, making that escape route impossible, leaving the full length porch doors his only other option. Pushing himself to his feet, coughing as the smoke filled his lungs, he staggered across to open them, but they wouldn't budge.

There was only one thing he could do. Taking a couple of steps backwards, Chris brought his arms up to cover his face and hurled himself at the doors, breaking through in a shower of glass and shattered timber.

He felt a sudden tearing pain in his right arm and, as his impetus carried him forward, he remembered too late the railings that surrounded the porch. Hitting them waist-high, he somersaulted over the top, crashing down on his shoulder. The impact jarred every bone in his body, and agony exploded in his head as he lost consciousness.

He never felt the strong hands that suddenly grabbed him and pulled him clear of the inferno.

+ + + + + + +

"We need to find Chris."

Now that the shooting had stopped - and he knew JD was going to be alright - locating the gunslinger was Buck's first priority. As he crouched at the corner of the corral, his gun still in his hand, it was Nathan who urged him to caution.

"How do we know there ain't more of them still in the house?"

"We don't - but there's only one way to find out," the ladies man said with grim determination. As he checked his ammunition, Ezra suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed. "The house is on fire!"

The gambler's words made them all stare at the building, and now they could see the orange glow flickering behind some of the windows, and smoke beginning to drift from the open front door.

Buck's first horrified thought was that Ella had set the fire herself; it was just the kind of insane thing she would do, to keep them from getting to Chris.

"We can't wait any longer!"

The ladies man started to climb to his feet, just as the sound of breaking glass shattered the brief lull, and a body came hurtling through the French doors. As the figure toppled over the rails and sprawled on the ground, Buck was already moving, Ezra right behind him.

"My God - Chris!" Buck breathed. Neither man could quite believe their eyes as they stared down at the bloodied form of Chris Larabee. Behind them, the flames were starting to crawl up the shattered doorframe, and creep along the underside of the porch roof, and they didn't hesitate as they grabbed the gunslinger's arms and dragged him away, back towards the corral. Nathan was suddenly there, picking up Chris' feet as they retreated from the blazing house.

They eased Chris down beside JD, and Buck felt his stomach tighten in anxiety as he studied his friend. Blood still oozed from the nasty wound just above his right eye, soaking into the dark blond hair and streaking the front of the white shirt he wore. His right sleeve was ripped and shredded, and more blood stained the material from the ragged tear down his forearm.

"What the hell happened?" Buck asked, of no-one in particular.

"Looks like a bullet creased him," the healer replied, as he started to pull some clean cloth from his pouch. "He's lucky though."

"Lucky?" JD turned a confused face to Nathan.

"Yeah - an inch lower and he'd be dead!" As Nathan started to wipe the blood away from Chris' face, the gunslinger began to stir, much to everyone's relief. "Easy," the healer said, as the hazel eyes flickered open.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, Chris. You're safe now."

"You sure know how to make an entrance!" Buck put in, his dry humour masking the relief he felt, but his grin died away as Chris tried to struggle up out of Nathan's grasp.

"No - I have to go back!" There was real urgency and panic in his voice as he fought against the healer, and Buck stared at him in amazement

"Are you mad?" He sounded incredulous. "She's not worth it!"

"Not her - Vin!'

The ladies man opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped, glancing across at Nathan in dismay. It was obvious that Chris had no idea what had happened to the tracker, and there was no easy way to tell him. The healer saw the way Buck was hesitating, and he knew that he had to be the one to break the news to Chris.

"Chris, I'm sorry, but Vin's dead. She had him killed." The words left a bitter taste in Nathan's mouth, but even he wasn't prepared for the gunslinger's reaction.

"No, dammit!" He renewed his efforts to get up, heedless of the pain and his own injuries. "It was... a trick! I've seen him. He's here!" The words tumbled out in a rush, leaving him breathless and exhausted.

"Easy, Chris. None of us want to believe he's dead." The ladies man saw the concerned expression on Nathan's face; the healer was certain that the head injury was causing the gunslinger's confusion.

"No, Buck - find him! Hurry!" Chris grabbed his friend's sleeve, and suddenly Buck knew that the gunslinger was right. He'd known Chris too long to doubt him on this. He realised now that they hadn't actually had positive proof that the body in the ravine was Vin; all they had was the say so of a man they now knew to have been in Ella's pay.

"Where is he?" he asked urgently, but Chris was struggling to stay conscious now. His head dropped back and his eyes started to close, but Buck grabbed his shoulders frantically, shaking him. "Chris!" he snapped. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs... cellar… " The gunslinger was exhausted, but he raised his head briefly once more, his gaze fixed on the burning building. His nightmare was coming back to haunt him; Vin was in the blazing house, and there was nothing he could do to save him. With a moan of despair, he felt the last of his strength ebb away, and he plunged headlong into the pit of unconsciousness.

Buck saw the gunslinger's eyes finally close, and saw him sag in Nathan's grip, and he knew what he had to do. Pushing himself to his feet he stared at the house for a moment. The flames had engulfed the left hand-side of the building now, the fire hungrily devouring the porch roof as it reached the second storey. The crackle of burning timber was interspersed with the panic-stricken cries from the servants as they fled the house, and the heavy crash as part of the drawing room ceiling collapsed.

"You can't go in there!" The comment came from Nathan as he stood up and grabbed Buck's arm, pulling him round to face him.

"I have to," the ladies man replied softly. "You know that."

Nathan didn't need to be reminded why - he could see the determination in Buck's eyes - but he was worried that he might be risking his life needlessly.

"What if he's wrong?"

Buck shook his head. "Chris knows." He looked down at the unconscious gunslinger. "Look after him."

The ladies man pulled the bandana from around his neck and hurried over to the horse trough. As he plunged his hands into the water, thoroughly soaking the material, he suddenly became aware that someone else was standing beside him, doing exactly the same thing.

"What the hell're you doing?"

"I believe the odds will be far better with two of us," Ezra told him simply. The gambler could see the surprise on Buck's face; he had seen the same expression on Josiah's when he had asked for the loan of his bandana, and handed Vin's Winchester over into his care. The Southerner had no thoughts about heroism when he made the decision; it was simply something he knew he had to do.

Buck gave him a grateful nod. "Let's go," he said. Tying the soaking bandanas across their nose and mouth, the two men raced towards the blazing house.

+ + + + + + +

Alone in the bowels of the house Vin was dreaming, his mind retreating into the only safe haven it could find.

He was sitting around a campfire with the other six, drinking coffee and laughing as Buck teased JD. Chris was sitting next to him, an amused half-smile on his face as Ezra passed around his hip-flask, sharing the whiskey that he had sneaked from the saloon without Inez knowing. As he reached for the drink that Chris passed to him, he coughed as a plume of smoke from the fire tickled the back of his throat. Looking up in surprise, he coughed again, giving a pain-filled gasp as broken ribs grated and burned - and he opened his eyes with a horrified cry.

He was back in his tiny prison, but now there was a subtle difference. It was no longer dark; a lamp stood on the table, spilling light all around, but that light seemed strangely diffused, almost hazy, until he coughed again and realised that smoke was seeping in from somewhere. At first his feverish mind thought he was back around the campfire, but the very real agony that clutched at his chest told him otherwise. It was warmer in the room now, too; the biting, numbing cold that had chilled him to the bone was gone and, with panic-stricken clarity, he realised that wherever he was being held was burning around him!

Tugging desperately at the rawhide that bound his wrists, he almost passed out as the thin material cut into his already torn and infected flesh, and he knew he wouldn't be able to break it. He glanced around, his eyes blurring and watering as the smoke got thicker, and then he saw the body, lying almost across his outstretched feet.

He gave a moan of despair when he finally remembered what had happened, and his whole body started to tremble with reaction. It wasn't death he had feared at first; when the gunman who had killed his own colleague prepared to turn the knife on the tracker, Vin had almost welcomed it. It was the threatened return of the woman who had so shockingly abused him that sent him into paroxysms of fear, and forced his mind to seek refuge in dreams of happier times. Now, the terror that her return incited in him was almost overwhelmed by the horrifying possibility of being left to burn alive.

His breathing became more ragged and, despite the increasing warmth, he began to shiver as his body was plunged into shock. With every breath he took, smoke filled his lungs, and each wracking cough felt like a blade was being driven into his chest, until all he wanted to do was die and end the agony.

Something heavy crashed above his head, sending a shower of dust down from the ceiling, and then suddenly he heard footsteps. Forcing himself to look up fearfully, he saw a large figure looming out of the smoke, a slightly smaller shape behind it, and he knew that his time was up. Ella had come back for him and, as he closed his eyes against the inevitable, his reason turned and fled.

+ + + + + + +

The heat was stifling as Buck and Ezra cautiously made their way through the smoke-filled hallway. The room to their left was fast becomming an inferno, and they could just make out a shape sprawled in the doorway. They knew it couldn't be Vin; that was the room that Chris had made his escape from, and he wouldn't have left alone if the tracker had been there with him.

"Where the hell are we gonna find the cellars?"

Buck's voice sounded muffled, and he almost had to shout above the roar of the fire. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face, and his dampened clothes and hair were already starting to dry out.

"The kitchens," Ezra yelled in his ear, and he headed towards the open door on the right. Peering in, he saw a long table laid out with plates and cutlery, and knew that wasn't the right place. Turning round, he shook his head as Buck came up behind him.

"Damn! Let's try the back," the ladies man suggested. They went past the wide staircase, pausing to look in one more room, and then they found the door leading through to the kitchen.

The heat wasn't so intense now, and only a little smoke had drifted under the door, but the room appeared to be empty, even though they could see signs of food preparation and several pots still bubbled away on the stove. Across the room there were several doors, one of which must lead to the cellars, but as they made their way over to the nearest one, they could hear the sound of terrified sobbing.

It was Ezra who spotted the young Mexican girl huddled in the corner beside the sink, and he pulled his bandana down and crouched down in front of her.

"Senôrita, we need your help," he said, with a gentle smile. The girl stared back at him, tears streaking her face and her eyes wide and frightened like a startled rabbit. "Where are the cellars?"

She continued to stare at him, obviously not understanding what he was asking as he repeated the question. Buck yanked his own bandana down now and asked her in Spanish

"Cellar - sôtano?" he said, surprising Ezra, and the girl nodded in sudden understanding, pointing to the second of the two doors.

"Show us," the gambler coaxed, holding out his hand to her, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet

The girl lead them through the door and partway down a narrow corridor that stretched away to the left, but then she suddenly stopped, unwilling to go any further as the smoke started to get thicker.

"Graçias, Senôrita." Ezra gave her a smile that would have charmed the birds out of the trees. "Now scat! Vamoose!" The servant girl needed no second telling, and they heard her footsteps fading in the distance as she ran back the way they had come. The gambler coughed harshly as the smoke drifted lazily around them, and he copied Buck as he pulled his bandana back in place.

"Come on," the ladies man said. "This whole place is gonna go up any minute."

The air was dry and choking now, and just ahead of them they could see a faint light, dim and blurred through the haze of smoke. For a moment Buck wondered whether the cellar was already burning, but this was no flickering glow; it was the steady light from a lamp of some kind and they moved slowly forward.

As they drew nearer, they could hear the sound of someone coughing, faint and retching, and obviously in some distress. Buck threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Ezra, and there was no doubt in either of their minds that they had found Vin.

In his haste, Buck didn't see the short flight of steps until he slipped down the first one and almost lost his footing, but the gambler grabbed his shoulder and steadied him as they reached the end of the passageway.

The light was coming from the small room directly in front of them, although the smoke was making it more difficult to see. There was yet another body stretched out on the floor just inside the doorway, blood congealing in a dark sticky pool around it. Ezra briefly wondered what the hell had been going on in the house, but it wasn't that that tore the gasp of horror from his lips.

"Dear God - Vin!" he breathed, as he pulled his bandana down and stumbled forward, brushing past Buck who seemed to be transfixed with shock. Dropping to his knees in front of the tracker, he was almost too scared to touch him at first. With his arms tied above his head and fresh blood glistening around his wrists, Vin looked dreadful; his clothes were filthy and torn, and dark bruises and barely healed gashes marked his chest. His eyes were tightly closed, but he wasn't unconscious; the coughs that wracked his trembling body and sent spasms of pain across his face proved that, but he gave no indication that he was even aware of their presence.

"Vin," Ezra repeated, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the Texan opened his eyes, but that feeling quickly evaporated when Vin looked at him. There was no expression in the wide blue gaze, no sign that he even recognised the two men, only a vacant stare that chilled Ezra's soul. As the gambler reached out to touch the Texan's shoulder gently, Vin gave an incoherent cry and struggled away from his touch.

"No!" The terrified yell that was torn from his bruised and bloodied lips was almost a scream. "You're not real!"

The gambler snatched his hand back, not sure what to do next with the obviously distraught man, and he glanced round at Buck, his face white.

"What's happened to him?" he asked, his words shocked and hesitant as the tracker stared at him, but didn't really see him. Buck didn't answer as he pulled down his bandana and stepped forward, his knife in his hand.

"Hold him," the ladies man ordered, but as the lamplight caught and reflected off the blade, Vin went crazy. Buck sliced through the rawhide, and it took all of Ezra's strength to keep a tight grip around the wildly struggling man, as he fought to claw his way from the grasp of a very concerned friend, and the gambler was heartily relieved when the Texan gave a final choking gasp and went completely limp in his arms.

Buck saw the worry and confusion on the Southerner's face, and he knew it matched his own. When he had first seen Vin – filthy and bound like a wild animal – it wasn't shock that held him immobile, but rage. He had almost turned and run screaming through the house in a desperate attempt to find Ella and make her pay - not just for this, but for Sarah, and Adam, and Hilde - and it was only Vin, and the need to get him out, that held him back now. He owed that much to Chris, as well as to himself.

Crouching down he tipped the tracker's face towards him, and then slid his hand down over his chest, feeling the weak, erratic heartbeat. Glancing up at Ezra over the tangled brown hair, he gave him a faint smile of relief.

"Let's get him out of here."

Remembering the marks across his chest and down his side, Buck realised that the young Texan probably had internal injuries so, cradling him carefully in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, allowing Ezra to take some of the weight until he got a better grip on the slender form.

"Wait," the gambler said, as Buck stepped around the body on the floor. Untying his bandana, he draped it completely over Vin's face, tucking it carefully around the back so it wouldn't come loose. "He'll need it more than I will," he told Buck, by way of explanation. "Now – let's go!"

Retracing their steps along the passageway was fairly easy, but the kitchen was starting to fill with smoke now, and the temperature was rising. As they made their way through, Buck could hear Ezra coughing, and he threw a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the gambler was alright.

"You okay?" he asked. Ezra nodded, his hand covering his nose and mouth.

"Just keep moving."

As they came out into the large entrance hall, the heat was almost unbearable. The wide staircase to their right was engulfed in flames, and the front door wasn't much better. Ezra put his hand on Buck's shoulder, bringing him to a halt, and his fingers dug painfully into his flesh.

"We can't get through here. We'll have to find another way!"

Coughing himself now, Buck knew the gambler was right but, as they turned back towards the kitchen, a shot suddenly rang out. The bullet whistled harmlessly over their heads but it got their attention, and Ezra's gun was in his hand as he whirled, ready to protect the other two.

"Stop right there, gentlemen."

As Buck slowly turned and faced their attacker, he almost didn't recognise the wildly dishevelled, bloodstained woman who emerged from the dining room as the elegant Ella Gaines.

"You're not going anywhere with him. He's mine!"

There was madness in her eyes as she took a couple of steps towards them and pointed the gun in their direction, determined to claim her prize.

PART 4

"Put him down."

Ella pulled back the hammer of the revolver as she made the demand, oblivious to the flames and destruction around her.

"It's over," Buck yelled back at her, his voice hard as he tried to make himself heard over the roaring of the fire. "Haven't you done enough?"

She shook her head. "You don't understand - he has to die! He made me kill Chris."

They knew now that she was the one who had shot Chris, but there was no remorse in her voice; in her distorted view the blame lay squarely with Vin. Buck sensed the gambler moving restlessly beside him, and he shot him a warning glare before he could say anything. The ladies man did not want to give her any reason to suspect that Chris might still be alive.

"I said put him down - now!" She screamed the last word at them, and took a step forward as she began to lose control of herself ­and the situation. The gun was pointing at Vin's head now, and Buck was in no doubt that she would follow through with her intention to kill him. Slowly, carefully, he crouched down, seeing the triumph in her eyes as she saw him apparently capitulating, and as he lowered the tracker's feet to the floor he glanced up at Ezra with a look of utter exasperation.

"Shoot her, dammit!"

Ella laughed suddenly, but the sound changed as smoke caught in her throat, and she began to cough, dabbing at her streaming eyes as she struggled to regain her composure. Then the smile was back on her face as she regarded the men before her.

"Mr. Standish is far too much of a gentleman to do that," she said smugly, when she had her breath back.

"Well I ain't!"

Buck's right arm came up, the Colt clutched tightly in his hand, and the shot took both Ezra and Ella by surprise. He had used the distraction of her coughing fit to ease his gun from its holster, keeping it shielded behind Vin's body as he waited for the right moment. He felt no satisfaction as she reeled back with a cry of pain, the gun falling from her grasp; he only saw it as justice finally being served. Although his first instinct was to kill her, he had deliberately shot to wound, his bullet catching her high in the shoulder and dropping her to the ground. A quick death would have been far too kind; he wanted to see her hang for the crimes she had committed. As he holstered his gun, and scooped Vin up again, he saw the look of disbelief on Ezra's face.

"She would've killed him," he told the Southerner, but before Ezra could make any comment the sudden crack and creak of timber drew their eyes upwards, as a section of the wooden ceiling above the front door gave way and came crashing down. Both men turned their heads as sparks and dense smoke billowed into the air, but it was Ella's terrified scream that galvanised Ezra into action.

Glancing back, they could see the beam across her legs, pinning her to the ground, and although there were no flames, the heat from the wood was already causing the delicate fabric of her gown to smoulder. Without a thought for his own safety, Ezra plunged forward, making a grab for the timber as the hissing, spitting voice of the fire around them grew louder.

"Ezra - get back!"

Buck's panicked yell came as he heard more snapping of wood, and the gambler had barely flung himself out of the way as more debris rained down. Ella's piercing screams were drowned out by the 'whoosh!' of the flames as they gathered momentum, and chunks of masonry started to fall from the walls.

Ezra staggered to his feet, his face sooty and his eyebrows singed, and he clutched at Buck's arm as he doubled over, his coughing painful and harsh.

"We... have to... help her!" he gasped out, gazing in horrified fascination at the feebly moving woman ringed by the living, leaping tongues of fire, but Buck's eyes were cold as he stared back at Ella for the final time.

"Let the bitch burn in Hell!"

+ + + + + + +

"How long they been in there now?"

The question came from a worried JD as the three peacekeepers waited anxiously for Buck and Ezra to exit the burning building.

"About half an hour I'd say," Nathan replied.

It was actually closer to fifteen minutes, but it seemed far longer. They had watched as many of the Mexican servants had fled the place, scant minutes after the two peacekeepers had gone in, and they hadn't made a move to stop them. They were no threat to the men outside, they were just scared, racing away into the darkness in an attempt to find their way home.

However, Nathan had made good use of the time; he had cleaned and dressed Chris' injuries as best he could, although the deep, ragged tear in his arm really needed stitching, something that would have to wait until they were back where they'd left their horses.

Leaving JD to watch the unconscious gunslinger, Nathan had ransacked the now deserted bunk-house, gathering up all the blankets he could find. He piled them outside, and then dragged the straw-filled pallets from two of the bunks. They would at least make the ride a little easier for Chris and, hopefully, Vin.

He was back with JD, wrapping a blanket around Chris, as Josiah brought the wagon from the barn, a piece of sacking covering the eyes of the nervous horse as the sound and smell of fire filled its flaring nostrils. The ex-preacher had also picked Chris' black from the corral, and that was now saddled and tied to the fence as they waited. He had let the remaining horses loose; they were starting to mill about in a panic as smoke drifted towards the corral, and he was loath to leave them penned.

"Oh my God!"

The horrified cry came from JD, as Nathan and Josiah were making up two beds in the back of the wagon. As the young peacekeeper struggled to his feet they turned, and saw great gouts of fire leap from the entrance of the house as the entire porch collapsed, blocking every access at the front.

"Dear Lord!" Nathan breathed, as JD took an awkward step forward, the pain of his own wound forgotten.

"No!" he screamed, clutching at the fence post as his leg threatened to give way, and Josiah caught him by the shoulders as he wobbled precariously, and eased him back down to the ground.

Nathan darted forward, feeling the heat from the burning building, and then he paused, not quite sure what to do next. Suddenly there was a shout from Josiah, and the big man's hand gripped his shoulder fiercely as he came up behind him.

"Look!" he said, pointing towards the right-hand corner of the building. Through the thick, swirling smoke they saw two shadowy figures appear, stumbling and coughing as they clutched at each other for mutual support.

"Buck?"

Nathan saw the first figure turn in their direction at the sound of his shout, and he felt a surge of relief. It was Buck and Ezra, but his elation was short-lived when he realised that Chris must have been wrong after all. He was running forward even as that thought crossed his mind, but as they got closer both he and Josiah could see the limp form cradled in Buck's arms. The face was completely covered by the bandana that Ezra had borrowed from the ex-preacher, but there was only one person it could possibly be.

Nathan stopped in front of them, seeing their red-rimmed eyes and the grim expressions on their smoke-blackened faces, and his heart sank. It seemed too cruel that all their efforts had been for nothing - and how were they going to tell Chris?

Before he could say anything to them, his attention was drawn to Ezra as the gambler suddenly collapsed to his knees, coughing and gasping as though he was never going to stop. Buck staggered to a halt beside him, swaying with exhaustion, and Josiah stepped forward silently to take the tracker from his arms.

"Ezra!" Nathan was instantly at the Southerner's side, his hand gripping his shoulder anxiously, but the gambler glanced up at him and waved him away.

"I'm alright," he finally managed to get out, wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve. "But Vin - " He broke off as another fit of coughing left him breathless, and Nathan looked up at Buck in confusion.

"What's he mean?" he asked, but the reply came from a jubilant Josiah.

"He's alive!" There was no disguising the amazement in the ex-preacher's voice; he could feel the tracker shivering as soon as he had taken him from Buck, and he had dragged the bandana from his face.

As Nathan moved away, Buck leaned forward, his hands on his knees, and then he reached out to touch Ezra's bowed head lightly.

"You okay?" he asked, and the gambler lifted his face and gave him a weary smile.

"I will be, my friend," was the unusually stoic reply.

Nathan stood in front of Josiah, experienced eyes studying Vin's pale and bloody face, and he dropped his hand briefly on his forehead, feeling the iciness of his skin.

"Let's get him into the wagon," he said, realising the tracker was already in shock, and he hurried forward to shake out some of the blankets, ready to wrap around the Texan.

As the two men stepped past him, JD pulled himself up again, his expression anxious as he glanced first at the still form of Vin, and then beyond him to where Buck and Ezra were. Hanging onto the top rail of the corral, he hopped forward, wincing as he jarred his injured leg.

"Buck - are you two okay?" he called out, his gaze firmly fixed on the ladies man. He watched as Buck held out his hand and hauled Ezra to his feet, keeping an arm around the gambler's shoulders as they made their slow way towards him.

"Kid, you have no idea." Buck's words said it all as he drew JD into a three-way embrace. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, savouring the physical contact with two men who he knew would have followed him or Chris or Vin, anywhere they wanted to go. It was that bond that kept them strong, despite everything that life and people could throw in their direction.

"Buck - you stink!" JD's voice was slightly muffled against Buck's shoulder, and he felt the ladies man quivering with suppressed laughter. "But I'm glad you're safe. I don't know what we would have told Chris if... " His words trailed away as he felt Buck stiffen, and the ladies man pulled back, gazing down worriedly at the blanket-wrapped gunslinger.

"How is he?" he asked. The bandage around Chris' head stood out on stark contrast to his skin, and his mouth twitched a little as he stirred restlessly.

"Nathan thinks he's gonna be fine," JD assured him, and he heard the faint sigh from Ezra.

"I wish I could be so sure about Vin," the gambler stated simply, easing himself out of Buck's grip as he turned to watch Nathan busying himself over the ominously still body in the wagon. Josiah was just climbing out of the back, and his expression was totally unreadable as he came across to them.

"Can you be ready to move out in a couple of minutes?" he asked them, and it was Ezra who voiced the question that was bubbling on all of their lips.

"How's Vin?" His fingers closed about the ex-preacher's forearm in a vicelike grip, and Josiah blew out his cheeks softly as he shook his head.

"Not so good," he admitted. "Nathan wants to get moving as soon as we can." He paused as he let his words sink in, and then he turned to Buck. "You up to giving me a hand with Chris?"

The healer glanced up as Buck scrambled over the tailgate of the wagon, backing up carefully as he eased the unconscious Chris Larabee down onto the second mattress. Josiah let go of his feet and then disappeared, but Buck remained where he was, watching the healer as he worked on Vin.

Nathan had managed to strip or cut all the soiled clothing from the tracker's thin frame, and he was so swathed in blankets that the ladies man couldn't ascertain the extent of his injuries. However, he could see the raw, oozing lacerations around the Texan's right wrist as Nathan tried to bathe and bandage it, and he knew there were matching ones about the left.

"What the hell happened to him?" the healer asked the silent man behind him, as he hushed Vin with a soothing word as the tracker moaned and stirred.

"I don't know!" The anguish was evident in Buck's voice, and Nathan turned to look at him anxiously, hearing the raw emotion in his words. "She had him chained like an animal, and - " He paused, and there was horror mingling with the despair in Buck's eyes. "Dear God, Nathan - he didn't even know us!"

Nathan didn't know how to deal with Buck's fear; all he could do was tend to any physical injuries that he could see, and everything else would just have to wait for now.

"What happened to Ella?" he asked, and the shutters came down on Buck's face. The ladies man looked over his shoulder at the house, a raging inferno now that illuminated the night sky.

"She's dead," was the reply, and he would say no more.

+ + + + + + +

The horses were still safely picketed when they arrived back at the small box canyon where they had been left.

As JD brought the wagon to a halt, and wrapped the reins around the brake handle, he discovered to his dismay that he couldn't move. In the thirty minutes it had taken to leave the burning house behind them, his leg had stiffened up completely.

"Are you alright?" The comment came from Ezra as he climbed down from the driving seat beside him.

"I don't think I can get down. I might need a hand," the young peacekeeper admitted, and Ezra gave him a wry smile as he came round to the other side of the wagon.

"Gladly," he replied, reaching up to steady JD as he slipped from the seat. The gambler gave a slight gasp as he gripped JD's elbow and lowered him to the ground, but the young man didn't appear to have noticed. "You just rest there while I tend to the horse."

Josiah dropped from the back of Chris' black and removed the saddle before tethering it with the others, as Buck climbed from the wagon and started to search around for some kindling to build a fire. Nathan had made it quite clear that, despite his own concerns, there was no way they could travel back to town over unfamiliar terrain in the dark. The rest of the journey would have to be made at first light.

Once the small blaze had caught, and the ladies man had raided their meagre supplies to get some coffee on the go, he glanced around to see what else he could do, and Ezra caught his eye. The gambler had unfastened some of the traces, and lead the wagon horse across to the picket line, but he seemed to be struggling with the remaining harness.

"What's the problem?" he asked, dropping his hand on the Southerner's shoulder, and startling him out of his concentration. Ezra yelped as the buckle he was tugging on scraped across his palm, and he turned away, cradling his right hand against his chest. Concerned now, Buck pulled the gambler round to face him, and grasped his right wrist. Turning his hand upwards, he stared down at the weeping burn that was seared right across the Southerner's palm. "Dammit, Ezra - why the hell didn't you say something before?"

The gambler glanced across at the wagon; he could see Nathan crouched down, bending over either Chris or Vin, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I fear Mr. Jackson has more pressing concerns at the moment."

Buck gave him an intense look. "Maybe he has - but I ain't!" He patted Ezra's shoulder. "Wait right here."

"But - " Ezra started to protest but Buck was already gone, returning moments later with a roll of clean bandages and his canteen.

"Hold your hand steady," he ordered, as he started to pour water over the angry-looking injury, washing out the dirt and grime.

"There's really no need to trouble yourself," Ezra said, gritting his teeth against the pain as the ladies man bound the clean cloth carefully about the wound.

"Yeah, there is. Besides, I may not be as neat as Nathan, but it's better than - sorry!" The last word came out as Buck ripped the end of the bandage and tied the knot a shade too tight, causing the gambler to wince and jump. "Okay?"

"My thanks," Ezra said gratefully, and he meant it. Although the burn still throbbed, the bandage felt cool against his skin, and the strapping prevented him from flexing his fingers and aggravating it. Turning back to the horse, he began to fumble with the straps again, but Buck nudged him gently out of the way.

"Let me finish this," he said. "Why don't you go and keep JD company?"

Ezra raised one eyebrow in surprise, but then he stepped back, happy to let Buck take over. "If you insist."

"I do - and Ez... ?" The gambler turned and looked at him, seeing the contrition on his face. "I'm sorry about last night, too."

Ezra smiled; he knew why Buck had lashed out at him the previous night. It was the only way the ladies man knew to vent his anger, and it was something they had all tried to deal with, one way or another.

"Apology accepted, Mr. Wilmington. I believe we were all a little... frayed around the edges."

Ezra walked back to the fire and sat down. JD was stretched out on his bedroll, already half asleep, and Josiah handed a cup of steaming coffee to the gambler.

"What's wrong with your hand?" he asked. He had seen Buck putting the bandage on, and heard snatches of their muted conversation, and he knew they had resolved their differences.

"A minor affliction. Nothing serious." Ezra took a sip of his coffee, and stared into the fire, his expression changing as the flames caught and held his attention. Josiah saw the way his eyes lost their focus, and he looked as though he were gazing into the depths of Hell itself.

"That was a brave thing you did, son, going into that house like that." The ex-preacher leaned forward and tapped Ezra on the knee to get his attention. The gambler looked up, his green eyes dark and unfathomable, and he shuddered as he remembered the fear he had felt when he thought they were trapped in the blazing building.

His mind had already been in a state of shock; finding Vin so terrified and abused, and then seeing Ella, wild and deranged as she tried to stop them getting out, was almost too much for any man to grasp. And there was Buck... Buck - a man he thought he knew - had surprised him more than he could ever have imagined! It was his seemingly callous attitude towards Ella that had truly amazed him; even though the ladies man hadn't actually killed her, he had been indirectly responsible for her death, and had even stopped Ezra helping her.

'Let the bitch burn in Hell!'

Even now those words sent a cold shiver down his spine. He had never heard such latent fury and hatred in Buck's voice before - and he hoped he never heard it again.

"You alright, Ezra?" Josiah saw the terror on the gambler's face, and knew he was re-living the nightmare of the fire, and he shook him roughly to snap him out of it. The Southerner looked up and blinked at him, coming back to the present, and he could feel the cold sweat on his forehead as he nodded.

"I didn't think we were ever going to escape," he admitted, his voice shaking a little, and he took a mouthful of his rapidly cooling coffee.

"How did you get out?" Josiah recalled the moment when the porch started to collapse, and JD's frightened cry when he thought the others were going to die. "When the front started to come down, we didn't think you had a chance."

"Neither did we." Ezra shuddered. It had been very close. When the ceiling had caved in on Ella Gaines, the two men had retreated to the kitchen, and from there Ezra had found the door that lead out to the gardens at the rear. "We were lucky there was a back door." Ezra suddenly coughed, and then stifled a yawn. "I think I might emulate our erstwhile young peacekeeper," he said, shaking out his bedroll and looking pointedly at JD, who was now fast asleep, overcome by pain and exhaustion.

"I think that would be an excellent idea," Josiah said. "It's been a long day." And it's going to be an even longer night, he thought, as he watched Ezra roll himself into his blanket and drift off to sleep.

Buck had finished with the wagon horse and tied its lead rope to the picket line, and he glanced across at the campfire. He could see the huddled form of JD in his bedroll, and he saw Josiah talking earnestly to Ezra, but what he really wanted to do was find out how Chris and Vin were.

He wandered across to the wagon and peered in over the side, watching as Nathan peeled the bloodied bandage from Chris' forearm. The healer seemed to sense his presence, and he looked up briefly at the anxious face.

"How's he doing, Nathan?"

"Well, his arm's pretty nasty," the man admitted. "But it's gonna have to mend on its own. It's too cut up to stitch properly. But I'm more worried about this." He turned Chris' face towards him, seeing the blood that still stained the bandage around his forehead, and the bruises that were darkening down by his eye. "I think he may have a concussion."

"But is he gonna be okay?"

The healer gave a heavy sigh. "I'll know more when he wakes up, and that might not be for some time."

Buck's forehead wrinkled in concern, and he dropped his chin on his forearms as he studied the unconscious gunslinger. Chris hadn't roused since he'd passed out at the house, more than an hour ago now, and he knew Nathan was worried about that. He drew a deep breath and glanced across to the other side of the wagon.

"What about Vin?"

Nathan's expression became more troubled, and he looked down at the blanket wrapped form of the tracker. "I wish you hadn't asked me that," he said softly.

"Why?" Buck's tone was fearful, and he dreaded what Nathan might have to say.

"Well, he's got a couple of broken ribs and some nasty cuts and bruises, and his wrists are badly torn." The healer was almost counting the injuries on his fingers. "He's got a touch of fever, but none of his injuries are that serious." Nathan didn't mention the painful sores where Vin's skin had been rubbed raw by sitting in damp clothes, nor the thin cuts across his chest, and the teeth marks at the base of his throat had him completely baffled. "I'll just be glad when we've got them home."

"So why're you worried?" Buck could tell, just by looking at Nathan's face, that there was more to it than that. The healer rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, and shook his head.

"I'm not sure," he confessed, draping a damp cloth across the tracker's brow as he stirred restlessly. "You said he didn't know you. What d'you mean?"

Buck told him, thinking back to the scene in the small, cold storage room. His voice wavered when he described Vin's reaction to their arrival, and the way he had fought them.

"Did you say he went crazy after Ezra touched him?"

Buck thought about it for a moment. "Well... yeah." he said eventually. "Is that important?"

"It could be. We'll have to wait and see when he wakes up." Nathan leaned back, trying to ease the kinks from his back, and he stretched his arms above his head as he gave a huge yawn.

"I'll sit with them for a spell," Buck offered, seeing the lines of weariness etched on the healer's face. "Why don't you get some coffee, and take a rest?"

Nathan regarded the tired man before him, and tried to make him see the sense of his own suggestion. "You look all in yourself," he commented, but the ladies man gave him a quick grin.

"I'll get Josiah to take over in a while," he promised.

"Alright." Nathan conceded defeat. In truth, he was tired, and he knew he would need his wits about him in the coming hours, so Buck's proposal made sense. "See if you can get Vin to take some more water - he needs it badly - and call me if either of them wakes up."

"Don't worry - you'll hear me yelling all the way from here to Four Corners!"

The choking stench of smoke was all around him, and he could feel the heat as he battled his way towards the open doorway. Flames crawled across the timber, consuming everything in its path like some ravening beast as it kept him at bay.

'Sarah!' He could see her now, just inside, fire licking at her hair as she held her hands out to him, crying out for the help that was never going to come.

'Save us!'

Her scream echoed around his mind as she became lost in the smoke and gloom, and he thought he saw a smaller figure tugging at her hand before she disappeared. He opened his mouth to call them, and then another sudden draft parted the flames and Vin was standing there, his blue eyes sad and full of remorse as he regarded his friend solemnly.

'I'm sorry you didn't shoot her when you had the chance,' he said, and then he was falling as Ella took his place.

'I told you what would happen,' she cackled, her face bitter and twisted. 'I'll kill anyone who comes between us.'

With the flames leaping up around her, she threw back her head and laughed, and Chris made a final desperate effort to save those he cared about the most, but he was too late. As the house collapsed around them, a despairing cry was torn from his throat.

'Noooo!'

Buck hadn't realised he had dozed off until Chris' anguished yell startled him awake.

"What the - ?" he began, staring around in confusion. For a brief moment he wasn't sure where he was, but then the stiffness in his back reminded him that he was in the wagon, and supposed to be watching Chris and Vin.

"Buck - what's going on?"

Nathan made the comment as he scrambled into the wagon beside him, his attention focussed on the injured gunslinger. Chris was sitting bolt upright, his eyes wide open but unseeing, and the healer knew that he was still asleep but caught in the grip of some terrifying nightmare. He reached out and grasped his shoulders, feeling the muscles beneath his hands bunched and knotted with tension as he eased him back down.

"Chris - come on. Wake up!" Nathan continued to hold his shoulders, watching as his ragged breathing slowed, and then the gunslinger gave a sudden gasp, blinking several times as he became aware of the people around him.

"Vin!" A single word tumbled from his lips, and he struggled to sit up, sagging back with a groan as pain shot through his head.

"Easy, Chris. Just lie still." Nathan kept a firm grip on him as the gunslinger became more agitated, his eyes wild and unfocused.

"No - he's in the house!" Chris' fear gave him strength, and he almost wrenched himself from Nathan's grasp, but then Buck was there as well, lending his support to the healer.

"We got him, Chris. He's safe." Buck's softly spoken words had the desired effect, and Chris stopped struggling, turning a confused face to the ladies man.

"... where... ?"

Buck scrambled to his feet, and climbed over onto the driver's seat, giving Chris his first clear view of the Texan. The hazel eyes were wide as he stared at Vin's pale face, blankets tucked right up to his chin, and then he turned to look at Nathan, the obvious question clouding his features.

"He's gonna be fine," the healer assured him, and he saw the look of relief on the gunslinger's face as he closed his eyes and relaxed against the mattress. "Chris?" Nathan touched his cheek gently, feeling the clamminess of his skin, and then lifted an eyelid, checking for the tell-tale signs of concussion.

"I'm sorry, Nathan. I fell asleep," Buck apologised, watching sheepishly as the healer pulled the blanket back up. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah - he's just passed out again." He glanced up, seeing how tired the ladies man was. "Why don't you get some rest? It's gonna be light in about four or five hours, and I want to be moving before then."

"Okay." Buck threw a quick glance across to where the others were. JD still appeared to be asleep, but Ezra was sitting up and looking around, and Josiah was already making his way over to the wagon. "I'd better tell Ezra not to worry."

As Buck disappeared Nathan heard the faint murmur of a voice, and he glanced down at Chris again, but the gunslinger hadn't stirred. He realised then that it was Vin, and he felt a brief surge of relief. After what Buck had told him about the way the tracker had behaved when Ezra had touched him, he had been becoming increasingly alarmed by Vin's lack of response. Even when he had cut the rawhide from his swollen wrists, gently removing it from around the infected flesh, the Texan hadn't flinched, and that had worried the healer.

Vin became more agitated, his restless movements dislodging the blankets covering his bare skin, and Nathan was suddenly in a quandary. It was almost as though he had been disturbed by Chris' nightmare or the sound of his voice, but the healer hesitated before he touched him. He wanted to see if he would settle down again on his own, reluctant to disturb him too much because he wasn't sure how he was going to react.

"Easy, Vin," he murmured, noticing the faint sheen of sweat glistening on the tracker's face and neck. Even in the pale glow from the full moon he could see the flush that coloured his face as the fever took a firm hold, and he moistened the cloth that he had been using earlier. Deciding to take a chance, he wiped it across the tracker's throat and down his cheeks, pausing as Vin flinched away from him. But then the Texan's breathing grew slightly easier as he slipped into deep unconsciousness once more, and Nathan relaxed.

"That's it - just let go," he intoned softly, folding the cloth and laying it across the tracker's forehead, holding it in place as Vin turned his head away.

The healer breathed a sigh of relief, and then shot a glance towards the tailgate of the wagon, where Josiah stood watching him. They both knew they were going to get precious little sleep before morning.

+ + + + + + +

"Pull up, JD. I need to check on Chris again."

Nathan made the request as he rode alongside the wagon and saw the gunslinger starting to move restlessly, the blankets tangled about him. The young peacekeeper eased back on the reins, and brought the horse to a stop, before carefully climbing down from the hard seat to relieve the cramp in his leg.

They had broken camp well before first light; Nathan was anxious to get an early start, but he had taken the time to renew the dressing on JD's leg and, at Buck's request, checked the burn on Ezra's hand. Now, the sun was almost at its zenith, and it seemed like a good opportunity to rest the horses as well.

The healer slipped from his horse and went round to the back of the wagon, ducking under the neck of Chris' black, which was fastened to the rear along with JD's mount. Taking the canteen that Buck offered him as he and the other two dismounted, he climbed in and squeezed his way up between the two injured men.

He checked quickly on Vin first; the tracker had barely stirred, and as Nathan placed a hand on his forehead, he could feel that his skin was warmer and damp as his temperature started to rise. He tucked the blankets tighter around him, and then turned his attention to Chris.

The gunslinger was still lying on his side, a folded blanket tucked behind his shoulders to stop him rolling back over, and Nathan could see him swallowing hard, his face pale as he struggled to sit up.

"Chris?" He rested his hand on the gunslinger's shoulder, feeling him trembling as he tried unsuccessfully to quell the nausea.

"... feel sick," came the murmured reply, and Nathan slipped his arm around him as he propped him up against the side. He was only just in time; feeling absolutely wretched, Chris was violently ill, bringing up what little water Nathan had forced down him. The healer draped a damp cloth across the back of his neck, expert fingers kneading the tightness from his muscles. "Oh shit!" he moaned with embarrassment, leaning back and screwing his eyes shut, his face lined with pain and misery. He felt Nathan's fingers again, cool against his brow, and then a canteen was pushed into his hand.

"Drink this," the healer said. "It'll help."

Chris rinsed his mouth out first, and then took several long swallows, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat. His stomach didn't feel quite so rebellious now, and he began to relax a little, although the pounding in his head refused to go away, and he leaned back again, keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Nathan studied him for a moment. "Is the sun bothering you?" he asked.

"Yeah, some," Chris admitted. He gave a weary sigh. "Just let me out of here and I'll be fine."

The healer's eyes narrowed, seeing the determination on Chris' face, but there was no way he was going to be able to ride horseback for some time. Then an idea came to him. "Okay - if you want to fall flat on your face go right ahead, but who's going to keep an eye on Vin?"

"Vin?" Chris jerked upright, giving a startled yelp as his head protested against the sudden movement. Nathan's words were like a slap in the face, and the healer smiled as Chris stared at him in total disbelief.

"That was no dream last night. He's really here - look!"

Chris turned his head slowly as Nathan pulled back the blanket that was almost covering the Texan's face; he had been oblivious to the huddled shape beside him as his querulous stomach had made its demands, but now his mouth curved in a faint smile. He reached out a tentative hand and then stopped, still wary of showing too much concern. "But how... ?"

"Don't you remember telling Buck he was in the house?" Chris still looked confused as Nathan continued. "Him and Ezra got him out."

"Is he alright?" Chris sounded doubtful; the one thing he could remember very clearly was the tracker's condition when he had last seen him. It was the expression in the blue eyes that had haunted him ever since, and his question went way beyond general concern for his physical well-being.

"He should be. There's some broken bones, and a few cuts, but nothing too serious." The healer was watching Chris' face as he went through the list, and he saw the shadows in his eyes as he looked down at the tracker. Nathan was aware that Chris knew more than he was letting on; he had heard it in his voice, but he was loath to pursue it at the moment. The gunslinger was still too sick himself to cope with a barrage of questions. Suddenly Chris looked up, a frown on his face as one of Nathan's earlier comments finally sunk in.

"Ezra?" The gunslinger stared at Nathan in surprise, but now his head was pounding too much to even start to wonder why the gambler would have taken such a risk himself. Lines of pain furrowed his brow, and he closed his eyes again, trying to will the headache away. Moments later he jumped as Buck's voice sounded close to his ear.

"Chris - how're you doing?"

The ladies man had been talking to Ezra and Josiah when he noticed that Chris was finally awake, and he wanted to see for himself how his friend was. He rested his forearms on the edge of the wagon, and peered anxiously over the side at the gunslinger.

"I've been better," Chris admitted, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. Putting out his right hand to push himself up, he gave a gasp as pain shot through his arm and it almost buckled beneath him.

"Careful, Chris," Nathan warned, leaning forward to check the bandage. "You'll start the bleeding again."

The gunslinger looked curiously at the dressing, as though he were seeing it for the first time, and Buck grinned at him.

"I take it you don't recall your dive through the window." It wasn't really a question; Buck could see that he didn't.

"I remember... fire?" Chris wasn't sure whether it had really happened, or was just another part of his nightmare. For a moment he was lost in thought, and then his expression changed as a cold knot of fear settled in the pit of his stomach. "What happened to Ella?" He looked straight at Buck, hazel eyes demanding an answer, and the smile vanished from the face of the ladies man.

Buck had been dreading this question; he felt no guilt over the part he had played in her death - he had simply done what needed to be done to protect Vin - but he wasn't sure how Chris would react to the news. For a long moment he didn't reply, and his hesitation lead Chris to the wrong conclusion.

"Dammit, Buck - tell me she didn't get away again!" The gunslinger reached out and grabbed the front of his friend's jacket, ignoring the throbbing of his head and the fresh blood that soaked through the bandage around his arm.

"Calm down!" Nathan grasped his shoulders, feeling him quivering with emotion as he tried to pull him back.

"Tell me!" he yelled, as the ladies man stepped beyond his reach.

"She's dead, Chris." Buck's words were almost a whisper, and the gunslinger went rigid.

"Dead?" he repeated, and Nathan re-affirmed the comment.

"The house was well ablaze, Chris. She never got out."

Chris couldn't quite believe what they were telling him; Ella had been such a big part of his life - for good or ill - for so long, that it was difficult to grasp that it was finally over. He knew Buck was waiting for some kind of comment, but he didn't know what to say. If he expected to feel a sense of triumph, or even a little cheated that he hadn't been there at the end, then he was very much mistaken. His only emotion was one of overwhelming relief.

Maybe the nightmares would stop now. He glanced down at the tracker; Vin had started to figure in the gunslinger's most recent dreams, trapped and dying in the blaze along with Sarah and Adam, but the sequence had been broken now. Vin was alive and Ella was dead, and that went a long way to redress the balance. Nothing could bring his family back, but she had failed in her final attempt to hurt him. 'Justice' a familiar voice seemed to whisper in the gunslinger's mind, and the sudden rush of adrenaline drained out of him as quickly as it had come.

"Sarah?" he whispered aloud. He could feel the blood roaring in his temples, pounding in time to the beating of his heart, and his vision started to blur. Another voice called his name, but it was too far away, and the effort too great, for him to answer. He could feel himself falling, and he closed his eyes, his exhausted body offering no resistance to the drop.

"Chris!" Nathan was totally unprepared for the gunslinger's sudden collapse, and he just managed to keep a hold on him. As he laid him back on the mattress, he grasped his wrist, feeling his pulse racing under his fingers.

"Nathan?" Buck was worried as he looked over the side. He had seen Chris turn pale, had seen the hazel eyes glaze over, but his shouted warning had come too late and he was thankful for the healer's quick reflexes. "He wanted to know!"

"It's not your fault." Nathan could see the guilt on Buck's face, and wanted to reassure him that he hadn't been responsible for Chris' relapse. "I should have seen it coming."

"Well, the horses are rested now, so we can push on," Buck told him, and the healer looked relieved.

"Can you take mine? I'll ride up front with JD." The healer wanted to keep a closer watch on them. He was still very concerned about Chris' head injury, and Vin was becoming increasingly restless and feverish.

He wouldn't be happy until he had them safely tucked up in the clinic.

+ + + + + + +

Billy Travis was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk outside the newspaper office, a look of concentration on his face as he bent his blond head over the sheets of paper his mother had given him. He chewed on the end of his pencil, trying to decide whether to add one, or two, more flowers to the picture he had drawn. Finally making up his mind, he added another three; the sketch was for his mother, and she liked flowers a lot, and at the moment he felt that she needed cheering up.

School had been over for more than an hour now, and his mother would be calling him in soon, and he wanted to finish the drawing so he could give it to her over supper. A few more strokes of the pencil put a fence around the house and garden, and then he glanced up at the sound of horses coming down the main street.

The sight of a wagon coming into town wasn't that unusual, but he had never seen JD driving one before. His eyes opened even wider when he saw Nathan on the seat beside him, and three more of the peacekeepers riding just behind it. Scrambling to his feet, his picture forgotten now as it slipped from his hand, he watched silently as they went past, his curious eyes recognising the black gelding fastened to the rear of the wagon.

Mary had just finished writing the editorial for the next issue of The Clarion when Billy came bursting into the office.

"Ma - they're here!" He ran round the desk and grabbed her hand, his face alight with excitement.

"Who's here, sweetheart?" Mary asked, catching hold of his other hand and pulling him towards her.

"Buck and JD. Come on."

She climbed to her feet, all thoughts of tomorrow's paper forgotten now, and then she paused. "Were Chris and Vin with them?"

"No - but I saw Chris' horse!" Billy winced as his mother's fingers tightened painfully about his hand, and he looked up into her face. "Are you alright, Ma?"

Mary had gone pale, and she had her other hand over her mouth, her expression fearful. She didn't want to frighten Billy, even though his words made her think the worst, but the boy was already ahead of her.

"So where's Chris?"

Mary didn't answer. Keeping hold of his hand, she hurried out of the building, turning to look down the street towards the Livery Stable. She saw the wagon just pulling up, and Buck, Ezra and Josiah dismounting, and she felt as though her worst nightmares were coming true. However, she now faced a dilemma; she was desperate to get to the clinic and find out what had happened, but she didn't want to take Billy with her in case, as she feared, the news was bad.

Providence took a hand then in the form of Mrs. Whittaker from the dressmakers, coming along the sidewalk towards her, and she knew she could safely leave Billy in her charge.

"Why - Mary," the older woman greeted. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Would you mind looking after Billy for a few minutes?" Mary asked, and the other woman nodded, seeing the worried look on her face.

"Of course, my dear. We'll just be down at the General Store."

"But, Ma - " Billy started to protest, reluctant to let go of his mother's hand.

"Come along, young man," Mrs. Whittaker said firmly. "I understand Mr. Watson has just had some new flavoured candy in."

Mary gave her a grateful smile as Billy suddenly decided that that was much more interesting, and the seamstress gave her a knowing wink. ‘Just go', her expression said, and Mary needed no second bidding.

Nathan had jumped down from the wagon almost before it had stopped.

"Just give me a few minutes," he said, taking the steps up to the clinic two at a time. Buck wrapped the reins of his grey around the corral fence, and then unfastened Chris and JD's mounts from the back of the wagon, leading them into the stable and handing them over to the man forking straw into some of the stalls.

When Buck came out, Josiah was already in the wagon, making certain that the blankets were tightly wrapped around Vin as he grasped his shoulders. The ladies man took his feet, and they carefully eased him out, Ezra helping to steady him as Josiah climbed down. The gambler stepped back as the other two made their cautious way up the stairs, and then he started when a sudden gasp sounded in his ear.

"Mary!" he exclaimed, turning to find the woman standing beside him, her eyes fixed on Buck and Josiah, and the limp body they carried. She couldn't see who it was, but she guessed it was Chris - until she turned to Ezra, and saw the gunslinger still stretched out in the wagon.

"Oh my God - what happened?" Mary realised now that it was Vin who Buck and Josiah were taking upstairs; her relief that they had found him was now overshadowed by anxiety as she stared at Chris, seeing his too pale face and the bloodstained bandage around his head. That was worrying enough, but for them to have taken Vin first, meant that the tracker must be even worse.

"Don't worry - they're in good hands. Mr. Jackson will take care of them." Ezra evaded Mary's question simply because he didn't know how to answer it in a few sentences. Despite his encouraging words, the gambler could see the doubt in her eyes, but he was spared any further explanations by the sound of footsteps as Buck and Josiah hurried back down the steps to get Chris. With barely a nod to the woman, the grim-faced peacekeepers clambered aboard the wagon and gathered up the unconscious form of the gunslinger. Mary watched with mounting trepidation as the two men cautiously negotiated their way up the steep wooden stairs, her concern growing when she saw Chris' heavily bandaged arm slip from beneath the blankets.

As Buck and Josiah reached the top, Mary took a purposeful step forward, but found her way barred by an equally determined Ezra.

"I believe it would be prudent to leave Mr. Jackson to his ministrations".

The steely glare Mary threw at him was worthy of Chris Larabee himself, and in spite of his resolution, the gambler found himself drawing back to let her pass. He cursed softly as she started up the stairs, and then he caught sight of JD's face as he leaned against the wagon wheel, and he saw that the young peacekeeper shared his feeling of helplessness.

It didn't take Nathan very long to get the stove going, and set a kettle on to boil, and by the time that Buck and Josiah had brought Vin up the room was warm enough for him not to worry unduly about removing the blankets from him.

He had tucked a pillow beneath the tracker's head, and peeled the first blanket back when the other's returned with Chris, and he stopped for a moment to supervise what they were doing with the gunslinger.

"That's it," he said, as they placed him on the second cot. "Just mind his head." As he spoke he became aware of a figure in the doorway, and he turned to find Mary watching them anxiously. Normally he would have appreciated her assistance, but his gut-feeling told him that this time her presence would be a liability.

"What can I do to help?" Mary asked the question as she stepped into the room, and Nathan moved to intercept her.

"I think I can manage," the healer told her. "I've got Buck and Josiah here at the moment."

"Oh!" Mary was surprised; Nathan was usually grateful for whatever help he could get. "But it's no trouble. Mrs. Whittaker could look after Billy, and - "

Nathan held up his hands, interrupting her in full flow. "Thanks ma'am, but we'll be fine. If I need any help I'll send word."

Mary opened her mouth, and then closed it again, hardly able to believe her ears. The rebuff was evident in Nathan's tone, and she couldn't help feeling a little angry. It didn't help when she glanced across at Buck and Josiah, and they sheepishly hung their heads and avoided her gaze. The message was patently clear - for some reason her presence was simply not welcome.

"Fine!" she snapped, and turning on her heel, she flounced out of the door.

"I'd say you handled that real well."

The sarcastic comment came from Buck, and did nothing to assuage the healer's feeling of guilt. He knew Mary's offer was well meant, and that she only had Chris and Vin's best interest at heart, but he couldn't shake the feeling that her being there would do more harm than good. With a heavy sigh, Nathan closed the door behind the angry woman, slipping the bolt across to prevent any further interruptions. He didn't like having to upset her, but he had far more urgent matters to worry about at the moment than her bruised feelings. Moving back to Vin's side, he pulled down the remaining blankets.

"Alright - let's clean him up. Buck, get some water while I fetch my things."

"Sure."

Once the bowl of hot water was ready, Nathan tipped a good measure of carbolic into the water, and then got Josiah to pour some over his hands. Picking up a square of clean linen, he began to bathe the tracker's face and neck, cleaning away the days of accumulated grime. The water quickly became murky as the ingrained dirt and smoke was washed away, and Nathan discarded the soiled cloth for another one as Buck brought him fresh water. As the healer started to tackle the dirt and dried blood across Vin's chest, the tracker twitched and began to stir slightly, and Nathan glanced up at Josiah.

"Hold him - this is going to sting," he warned. As the ex-preacher dropped his hands onto the Texan's shoulders, he felt him tense beneath his palms. Nathan heard the change in Vin's breathing pattern as he started to come to, and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he soaked away the blood that caked the numerous deep cuts that marked his skin.

"Where'd he get those scratches?" Buck wanted to know.

"They're not scratches," Josiah told him. "They were made by a knife."

"A knife?" The ladies man sounded angry. "What the hell happened to him in that house?"

"More than meets the eye," Nathan replied, enigmatically. He was beginning to see now why Chris had been so concerned, but he wouldn't know any more until either man was coherent enough to tell him. The healer continued his ministrations, but paused again as the Texan's eyes fluttered open, and he gazed about wildly. A few muttered words spilled from his lips, low and indecipherable as he began to squirm against Josiah's grasp.

The ex-preacher glanced down, and the look in Vin's eyes reminded him painfully of his own sister, Hannah. He had hoped never to see that look again in someone he cared about - and certainly not in the carefree young tracker - but it seemed that God and fate had other plans.

"Keep him still!" Nathan was worried that Vin would injure himself further if he continued to struggle, but even he was unprepared for what happened next.

Vin was aware that his surroundings had changed.

He had drifted in and out of consciousness several times already, the vague memory of movement adding to his bewilderment, but there was nothing confusing about the strong hands that gripped his shoulders. He could feel the bonds tied about his wrists, and in his fevered imaginings he was still a prisoner, held to ransom by the will of a deranged woman.

Now, as the increasing pain forced him back to consciousness, the will to live grew stronger, and he was ready to fight them to the bitter end. Opening his eyes, he squinted into the light as a shadowy figure leaned over him, hands reaching for him, touching him. He was in no doubt that these people meant him harm - the torment they were already putting him through convinced him of that - and he lashed out the only way he could.

He heard a sudden gasp of pain as his foot connected with somebody, and then a voice was screaming obscenities in a strange language. Other hands closed about his ankles now, and he struggled even more violently, oblivious to the fire that burned in his chest.

"Bastards!" he yelled, his voice sounding hoarse and strained. "Leave me alone!" However, his defiance seemed almost futile; there were just too many of them, and he couldn't break free.

Nathan staggered back as Vin's foot came up and caught him a glancing blow across the ribs. There was no strength in the kick, and it was surprise, more than pain, that made him cry out, and Buck put a hand out to steady him.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah! Just get his legs!" As the ladies man grabbed at Vin's ankles, the tracker began to shout at them in one of the many Indian dialects he spoke. They couldn't understand what he was saying, but the tone of his voice left them in no doubt about the vitriolic nature of his comments.

As Buck's fingers tightened about his ankles, Vin was staring directly at Nathan, looking but not actually seeing him, no clarity in his gaze. Now the healer witnessed for himself what Buck and Ezra had seen back at the house, and he knew why it had disturbed them so much.

"Bastards!" The tracker cursed them, reverting back to his native tongue. "Leave me alone!"

"Vin, it's me - Nathan!" The healer placed a hand on either side of the Texan's face, forcing him to look at him, but he could see that there was no recognition in his eyes.

"No!" The younger man shook his head, his confused senses seeing only enemies, intent on causing him further pain. "Don't touch me!"

"Vin!" This time Nathan shook him, trying to snap him back to reality, but the fear and anger was still in the tracker's eyes. "You're home - you're safe." The healer knew he was fighting a losing battle; even though Vin was almost exhausted, he was still struggling weakly against them, and he knew he only had one option left if he was to see to his injuries. "Don't let go of him!"

As Nathan moved away from the bed to prepare one of his sleeping draughts, he heard Buck swear softly. Worried, the healer turned back to look at him, only to find that the ladies man was staring across at the second bed.

"Jeez - Chris is waking up!" he exclaimed, and now Nathan could see the gunslinger tossing restlessly, having been disturbed by the commotion and raised voices. The healer cursed softly; Chris certainly picked his moments. He had tried to rouse him several times on the trip back, but to no avail, and now - when he would be better off asleep - he chose to wake up.

"Buck – you'd better watch him."

The ladies man glanced at Chris, and then back at Vin, who was still conscious but no longer struggling. Josiah could guess what he was thinking, and he gave him an encouraging nod.

"Go on - I can manage. Vin's just about worn out."

Buck released his hold on the Texan's ankles, and hurried across the room - just in time to put a hand on Chris' shoulder as he tried to lever himself up.

"Whoa, stud! Where d'you think you're going?"

Chris made a feeble attempt to push the hand away, cursing his own weakness as Buck forced him back with ease. "I heard Vin - " he began, and the ladies man nodded.

"Yeah, you did. So what were you gonna do about it?"

The gunslinger frowned in confusion at Buck's comment; he still wasn't thinking too clearly, but he knew that Vin was in some distress, and that worried him. Before he could say anything else, Nathan called out.

"Get those things off him. And don't let him out of bed!"

"You heard the man." Buck gave his friend a smile, seeing the scowl on the gunslinger's face at the prospect of being undressed.

"You ain't taking my pants!" Chris growled softly. Despite the lousy way he felt, he was desperate to preserve some kind of dignity.

"How about we just settle for the boots and shirt then?" Without waiting for an answer, Buck folded back the blanket and pulled his boots off, and then he moved to the head of the bed and started to ease him out of the tattered, bloodstained shirt. He helped Chris sit up a little higher, piling several pillows behind his back so he was more comfortable, and he heard the gunslinger wince, and saw his grimace of pain as sore and stiffened muscles protested.

"How's the head?" he asked.

"I'd sooner have a hangover," Chris admitted wearily, closing his eyes.

"Not about to throw up again, are you?" There was a hint of laughter in Buck's voice, but it was the laughter of relief rather than actual amusement at his friend's embarrassment. Chris opened his eyes and glared at the ladies man.

"Don't push it!" he warned, but then his gaze went past Buck, watching as Nathan busied himself across the room. "How's he doing?"

The mirth left Buck's face at Chris' worried question, and he glanced back at the healer as he leaned over Vin. "Well, he was pretty wild when he woke up. Scared, too." The ladies man shook his head, his own expression grim. "He didn't know any of us, or want anyone to touch him. Why's that?"

Chris was silent for a long time. He could guess why the tracker was reluctant to let anyone near him; after what Ella had done to him it was a perfectly natural reaction, but his lack of recognition frightened Chris more than he was willing to admit.

"Chris?" Buck's voice startled him, and he looked up into the concerned face. "You alright?"

The gunslinger nodded and swallowed hard. "You saw where he was! You know how Vin feels about being shut in - and in the dark!"

"Dark?" Buck sounded puzzled. "But there was a lamp on the table."

"No - it was dark." Chris' voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned back against the pillows. He was tired and he had a splitting headache, and now he could feel his arm throbbing again with renewed vigour.

"I think Nathan's right. You should get some rest," Buck said, seeing the way the gunslinger was flagging now.

"I'll be okay," Chris assured him unconvincingly, as his eyelids drooped. He was asleep almost before the ladies man had tucked the blankets back up around him.

Nathan could hear Buck and Chris talking, but he wasn't really concentrating on their conversation. He mixed up a very mild version of his sleeping draught - anything too strong could prove to be dangerous to Vin in his current weakened state – adding a pinch of chamomile as a relaxant before bringing it back to the bed.

Josiah was no longer holding the tracker down. Instead his hands were just resting lightly on his shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gently at the side of his neck in a soothing motion as he tried to convey his concern. Vin's breathing was rapid and shallow, and there was little energy left in the rail-thin body now as the ex-preacher looked up at the cup in Nathan's hand, raising one eyebrow in inquiry.

"Do you think he'll take it?" he asked.

"Not willingly. Sit him up a little."

As Josiah propped the Texan up against his arm, Nathan put the cup to his lips. "Come on, Vin," he coaxed, but the tracker turned his face away, resisting the only way he could now. Undeterred, the healer grabbed his chin, and tipped some of the potion between his lips and, before Vin could spit it out, he pinched his nose, forcing him to swallow or choke. He repeated the process until the cup was empty, and the Texan drifted off into a deep sleep quite quickly as the sedative hit his empty stomach. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief, and he filled the bowl with fresh water, ready to continue with the cleaning process.

"Why do you think he's so scared?" The comment came from Josiah as he smoothed back the sweat-damp hair from Vin's forehead, and Nathan paused, his hand over the bruises around the tracker's throat.

"I think I might know," Buck said, as he joined them. He saw Nathan trying to look past him, and he nodded reassuringly. "It's okay - he's asleep."

"So what did he tell you?" Nathan asked.

"Well - that room he was kept in... ?"

"The cellar?"

Buck paused. "Actually, it was more like a small store room - and pitch black!"

"Dear Lord!" Nathan could see now why Vin was so traumatised; the effect of being confined for so long would cause him to react violently, as his mind retreated from the irrational fear. The healer knew that he didn't like being indoors for too long, but he hadn't realised it could affect him this badly. He also suspected that something else had happened, but he was going to have to be patient and wait until Chris, or Vin, could tell him what that something was. Nathan visibly shook himself, and dipped a clean cloth into the bowl. "Let's get him cleaned up first," he finished.

More than a quarter of an hour later, the healer was finally satisfied. He had thoroughly cleaned the grime from Vin's body, his hands extra gentle as he tackled the weeping sores that ran all the way up the back of the tracker's thighs. Even so, the Texan had flinched and whimpered as he had applied a healing salve to the sores, and he was grateful for Josiah's soothing touch.

Nathan had also bathed both of his badly torn wrists. The lacerations were deep and already infected, and he couldn't help remembering something Vin had told him a long time ago. It concerned a wolf that had been caught in a trap, and the animal had started to chew through its own foot in an attempt to get free before it died. He could imagine Vin as that wolf, so desperate had he been to get free. He shuddered as he bound fresh bandages around the tracker's arms, and then turned him on his side so he was more comfortable, placing a couple of pillows behind him to prevent him rolling over.

"Can you stay with him?" he asked Josiah. "I need to check on Chris."

The ex-preacher nodded willingly. "You do what you have to do. I'll take care of him."

As Nathan moved across to Chris' bed, Buck right on his heels, he could only hope that the gunslinger was going to cause him less problems.

PART 5

Ezra was heading towards the clinic when he heard footsteps hurrying along behind him, and Mary fell into step at his side.

"Hello, Ezra," she greeted. "Any news about Chris and Vin?"

"Good morning, ma'am." The gambler glanced at her, seeing her worried expression and the tell-tale signs of a sleepless night. "I was about to find out. Perhaps you'd care to accompany me?"

"Nathan won't let me see them," she told him, and there was a faint hint of anger in her voice. She had tried once again, later the previous evening, but the healer was adamant. He firmly, but politely, thanked her for the offer, telling her that everything was in hand.

"Ah – yes. I must apologise for Mr. Jackson's oafish behaviour, but I'm certain he has his reasons." Ezra had seen the annoyed look on Mary's face when she had left the clinic, shortly after they had arrived back in town. She had swept past him and an equally confused JD without so much as a word, and the stiff set of her shoulders as she walked away made it quite plain that she wasn't very happy. "However, I have just seen our redoubtable healer heading towards the saloon, no doubt in search of one of Inez' bountiful breakfasts. He need never know."

Mary gave a sigh of relief, and Ezra knew he had made the right decision. In truth, he hadn't intended to sneak in himself without Nathan knowing, but he knew that the healer had spent all night at the clinic so, rather than intrude on his well deserved break, he decided to see for himself how his two friends were. He also had a feeling that he knew the reasoning behind Nathan keeping her away. Buck had told the healer about Vin's reaction to them in the house, and how much it had disturbed them, and he obviously didn't want Mary to witness something so distressing. But now that they were safely back in town, he couldn't see a problem.

"Thank you," she said, not really liking the idea of going behind Nathan's back, but she was desperate to make sure they were going to be okay. "I won't breathe a word."

It was a bright, clear morning, the sun just creeping up over the rooftops of the buildings opposite the Livery as Ezra carefully opened the door to the healer's clinic. It was quite dim inside – Nathan keeping the curtains drawn and the lamps turned low in deference to Chris' headaches – but as the gambler pushed the door back, a shaft of sunlight stretched across the floor and spread up onto the bed in the far corner.

"Vin!" Ezra breathed, seeing the tracker thrashing about deliriously, and moaning softly as he tried to fight his way out of some nightmare. Without thinking, Mary brushed past the gambler and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to try and calm him down.

"It's alright, Vin – you're safe!" The moment her hand touched his cheek the Texan's eyes snapped open, and she drew back with a gasp when she saw the raw, naked fear in the wild gaze he turned on her.

"Nooo!" The tracker's anguished cry echoed around the room as he scrambled away from her, pressing himself into the corner of the room in a terrified huddle. With his knees drawn up protectively, and the blanket clutched tightly around him as he turned his face to the wall, he looked for all the world like a frightened, beaten child.

"Oh my God!" Mary was pale with shock, and she could feel the hot sting of tears in her eyes as she stepped back blindly, stumbling into Ezra. The gambler's hands came down on her shoulders to steady her, and he could feel her trembling, her horror matching his own, and he didn't know quite what to do. Then a roar from the other bed startled them both, and the matter was taken out of his hands.

Chris hadn't slept very well that night. His headaches had started to ease a little - although he was still wary of making any sudden moves - but his whole body ached now, and the pain from his arm coursed all the way up to his shoulder.

Once Nathan had finished with Vin, he had turned his attention to the gunslinger. He had been unable to stitch the lacerations caused by Chris' escape from the burning house; they were too many and too ragged, but he had cleaned them thoroughly, and spent long minutes removing all the splinters of wood and glass that were embedded in his flesh.

Chris had come to halfway through this painful process, and some of his blistering comments gave Nathan cause to smile. Once the healer was satisfied that he had done all he could, he smeared a noxious smelling salve over the wounds and re-bandaged the arm, at which point Chris had promptly passed out again.

However, he had been restless the whole night; he was slightly feverish, and every move he made jarred his arm, dragging him almost to the brink of waking each time. He was also worried about Vin, and on the two occasions that he did open his eyes, he saw Nathan at the tracker's bedside, trying to keep him cool and calm as his temperature soared.

Chris had finally fallen into a heavier, almost dreamless sleep just before dawn, and was unaware when Nathan quietly slipped out in search of coffee and food.

He wasn't sure what had disturbed him, pulling him up from a very deep slumber to a lighter level, but he carried on dozing until a sudden piercing cry startled him wide awake.

For a moment he lay still, as his confused mind tried to work out where he was and what was happening, and then he heard a voice - Mary's voice - whisper 'Oh my God!', and he struggled into a sitting position.

The scene that met his eyes held him frozen for a split second; Mary was standing just in front of Ezra, her hands to her mouth, and Vin... Vin was backed into the corner of his bed, almost frantic in his attempts to keep his distance from the woman. Chris felt his heart thudding as he cursed Ezra's stupidity, and then he was yelling at them.

"Get her out of here!" he shouted, his anger and the pounding of his head adding an extra bite to his words. He saw Vin jump at the sound of his voice, and felt a brief moment of regret that he was frightening him further. "And find Nathan!"

Mary threw a terrified glance at the gunslinger's expression, then her nerve deserted her and she fled, tears running down her cheeks. The gambler hesitated for a moment longer, but the fury on Chris' face as he flung back the blankets was too much for him, and he quickly followed Mary out of the door.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Chris pushed himself to his feet, and then sat down hard as the room gave a sickening lurch. Taking a deep breath, and waiting until the feeling of nausea receded, he tried again, gritting his teeth as he staggered the few steps across the room to Vin.

He almost collapsed on the edge of the tracker's bed, and his heart sank at the scared look that was flashed his way. From the moment he had first seen Vin - bound and panic-stricken in that small cell - he had been worried about the effect it would have on him. He had hoped that being back in town, safe and surrounded by friends, would pull him back from the edge, but now it appeared that he was wrong. He felt the anger burning in his heart, cold and furious; Ella's hand was still reaching out and twisting the knife in his guts, even after death.

"Vin, it's me - Chris!" The gunslinger wasn't quite sure what to do for the best, or even how the Texan would respond to him, but he felt a brief surge of hope when Vin lifted his head and looked at him from under damp lashes.

"C... hris?" That one word, soft and hesitant, was music to the gunslinger's ears. Vin might be terrified, but at least he had recognised him, and that was an encouraging start.

"Yeah, partner. I'm here." Chris held back for just a few more seconds, and then he slipped his arm around Vin's bare shoulders, feeling a little awkward. He was not the most tactile person, but he was reassured when the tracker didn't try to pull away, and he could feel him shivering violently as he tightened his grip. "You're safe. No-one's gonna hurt you!"

"I... thought... I thought it was... her!" Vin's breath came in great gulps, each one punctuated by a spasm of pain as he drew air into his lungs. The bandages around his chest were tighter than bands of iron, making every breath a torment, and his broken ribs grated as the residue of his nightmare floated to the surface again.

He had been back in the small cell, and Ella had loomed out of the darkness, laughing at him. Vin had felt her warm breath on his face, and had seen the light of madness in her eyes... and then he was waking up, seeing the vague shadow of a woman as she reached out for him. He buried his face against his knees with a shudder, so Chris couldn't see the tears in his eyes, nor the shame that burned in his cheeks.

"She's dead, Vin. She won't hurt you again." The gunslinger could feel the warmth in the Texan's sweat-slick skin, and he stretched his other arm around Vin's chest, clasping his fingers together as he pulled him close in a rare display of emotion. He dropped his chin onto the damp hair, and the normally undemonstrative tracker leaned into him, resting his head against Chris' chest, obviously in desperate need of the physical contact.

That was how Nathan found them when he hurtled through the door a few moments later.

"Chris - what happened?" he demanded breathlessly.

"Who the hell told Ezra he could bring Mary here?" the gunslinger accused, still sounding angry as he kept his hold on the distraught tracker. Nathan looked completely baffled; he hadn't even seen Ezra until three minutes ago, when the gambler had burst into the saloon and babbled on about the healer getting back to the clinic.

"Mary was here?" Now Nathan was beginning to see what had transpired, and it all added credence to his own suspicions.

"Yeah, she was. That's the last thing he... " Chris stopped; he had blurted out the last comment before he thought about the consequences, and he hoped that the slip would go unnoticed. Nathan gave him a long, hard stare, and then turned around and carefully closed the door. Crossing back to the bed, he began to straighten the blankets.

"Come on - let's get him settled down."

"No... no... can't sleep!" There was panic in Vin's voice; he knew that the moment he closed his eyes the nightmares would return, and he didn't think he could cope with them anymore. Chris guessed what the problem was, and he could sympathise with him - his own dreams were none too pleasant at the moment - but he did his best to reassure the tracker.

"Rest, Vin. I'll be right here." It took a little more cajoling on Chris' part to ease the Texan back down again, and Vin was reluctant to leave the protective circle of the gunslinger's arms. It was his anchor on reality, and he didn't want to let it go. Chris felt a little self-conscious at such a blatant show of emotion, but he knew instinctively that that was what Vin needed.

He remained sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers toying absently with the tangled hair as his hand rested lightly on Vin's head, the gesture of affection unmistakeable, as Nathan checked the tracker over carefully, making sure he hadn't caused himself any further harm. Eventually his breathing deepened, and he drifted off to sleep again, content in the knowledge that Chris was still there.

Nathan dropped his hand to the Texan's brow, feeling the heat of fever there, and then touched his fingers to the base of his throat. His pulse was rapid and thready, but for the moment he was resting easier. He was still trembling with shock as the healer tucked the blankets around him, but that would gradually disappear as he relaxed. Nathan shifted his gaze to Chris, seeing how washed out and shaken the gunslinger looked, and he decided that he would be better off back in his own bed.

"Come on - let him rest."

Nothing could have moved Chris quicker but, to his dismay, he discovered that his legs wouldn't obey him. He needed Nathan's help to pull him up and steady him as he traversed the few short feet back to his own cot, and he sank down with a grateful sigh. The healer forced him to lie back, seeing the grimace of pain as he checked his pulse and temperature.

"How's the head?" he asked.

"It's okay," Chris lied, closing his eyes briefly.

"I've got something for that," Nathan told him, not at all taken in. Moments later, he pressed a cup into Chris' hand. "Drink," he ordered. "It'll help with the pain."

Chris eyed the cup warily, and then took a cautious sip. Whatever concoction Nathan had prepared was masked by the tart flavour of the fruit juice, and he drank it down quickly. The healer perched on the edge of the bed and took the cup from him as Chris lay back and closed his eyes, and Nathan took a moment to study him carefully. His face was almost as white as the dressing around his head, and the nagging lines of pain were evident about his eyes. The gunslinger was still far from well, and he should really be resting, but Nathan needed some answers to the questions that were whirling around in his brain.

It was Vin who had him perplexed. He could understand that being confined for so long would have a traumatic effect on the tracker, but he would have expected him to behave differently. His natural reaction should have been a craving for open spaces, instead of this irrational fear of people, to the point of not recognising his friends. Whatever had been done to the young Texan - however he came by the marks on his body - Ella must have been there, for it was the presence of another woman that had triggered off this latest, dramatic panic-attack, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.

Before he could speak, the gunslinger opened his eyes again, aware that Nathan was still sitting on the bed, and he regarded him suspiciously.

"What?" There was a wealth of distrust in that one word, and the healer knew he would have to tread very carefully.

"Buck told me where they'd found him, how she had him tied like an animal, but there's more, isn't there?"

The gunslinger went cold as Nathan asked the question; this was something he had been dreading ever since they got back, and he cursed the slip of the tongue that had aroused the healer's suspicions. "What d'you mean?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Why'd he panic with Mary? What else did that woman do to him?" There it was - direct and to the point. Nathan had guessed, but Chris wasn't prepared to say any more.

"Just leave it!" he warned, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He could see where this conversation was heading, but he was unwilling to betray Vin's trust by telling Nathan exactly what had happened at the house. It was bad enough that he knew, but if the tracker discovered that other people had found out, his feeling of shame and self-loathing would be beyond measure.

"I can't. I need to know!" Nathan could see the anger on the gunslinger's face, and the way he clenched his jaws as he pressed home his point. Fire smouldered in the hazel eyes, but Chris remained stubbornly silent. "Come on, Chris - I saw the marks around his throat! I can't help him if you won't tell me!"

The gunslinger was silent for a few seconds longer, and when he spoke, the utter loathing was evident in his voice. "Dammit, Nathan, do I have to spell it out for you?" He spat each word out as though it left a sour taste in his mouth. "She used him like a bitch in heat! Used him for her own perverted pleasure!"

Nathan gasped; even though he had been half expecting it, Chris' words left him stunned. "Dear God!" he breathed, and his gaze was drawn to the sleeping form of the tracker. The woman had put the Texan through hell - and now his friends had been left to pick up the pieces and put them back together again.

"She boasted about it." The anguished comment came from Chris, his words soft and hesitant, and when Nathan looked at him he could see that all the anger had drained from his face, leaving only the worry and despair. "She took great delight in telling me what she'd done." Chris ran his hands through his hair, his eyes hooded as he looked across at Vin. It was as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and he felt emotionally and physically drained.

"I'm sorry, Chris, I had to know." Nathan put his hand on the gunslinger's shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. He could see how much it taken out of the man to actually tell him, and he appreciated the trust that had been given to him.

"It wasn't Ezra's fault."

"What wasn't?"

"Bringing Mary here." Chris shook his head slowly. "Vin was confused. He thought she was Ella. Ezra didn't know - and he's not gonna know." The last part was a statement, rather than a question, and Nathan didn't hesitate as he replied.

"They'll not hear it from me." The healer touched Chris' arm. "Why don't you get some rest now. Maybe later you'll feel like some food?"

"Maybe." Chris tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, and he burrowed down into the blankets, thankful to be lying flat. Whatever the healer had given him for his headache didn't seem to be working - understandable after the conversation they had just had! - and it was a relief to close his eyes and shut out the world. As Nathan got up and moved away he heard a sudden gasp, and a softly mumbled 'Oh shit!'

"Chris? You alright?"

"I think I may have scared Mary," the gunslinger admitted, sheepishly. "She was pretty upset when she left."

Nathan thought back to Ezra's state of nervousness when he had dashed into the saloon; if Chris had had that effect on the gambler, then he was probably right about frightening Mary.

"I'll talk to her," he promised. "She'll want to know why Vin - " At that point Chris started to struggle up, his face apprehensive, but Nathan was back at his side, a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. "Don't worry, I won't tell her anything about - " He paused, glancing across at the sleeping tracker. Even now he couldn't put into words what had been done to Vin, and it would be a long time before he came to terms with it. "I'll think of something."

Nathan busied himself about the room for a few minutes, waiting until he was certain that Chris was soundly asleep. He made another check on Vin, feeling the warmth still in his skin, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so the healer decided to take a second chance to grab some breakfast, and to organise some soup for Chris.

As he stepped out onto the balcony and closed the door behind him, he saw Josiah hurrying up the steps, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he wouldn't have to worry about leaving the two men alone.

"Nathan - is everything alright?" The ex-preacher looked concerned as he stopped in front of him, trying to catch his breath.

"It is now. They're both asleep."

"But what happened? I saw Inez, and she told me that Ezra was acting like a madman!" Josiah was understandably concerned; he was aware that Nathan had spent all night at the clinic, and he knew something drastic must have dragged him back with such haste during what was probably his first chance of a break.

Nathan thought carefully, Chris' warning still ringing in his ears. "Vin had a nightmare," he said, the explanation sounding rather lame. "Ezra didn't know what to do."

Josiah looked at him, his brow furrowed. He could see that Nathan wasn't telling him everything, but he obviously had his reasons. However, his first concern was for the tracker's well-being. "How is he?"

"He's settled now, but can you watch them for a while?"

"Of course I can." He could see how tired his friend was, and he would willingly watch them all day if it gave Nathan even a brief respite.

"I need some coffee, and some soup for Chris. Whatever you do, don't let him out of bed! And Vin's still a little feverish." The healer started to walk away, but then he turned back as he thought of something else. "And don't let anyone in until I get back!"

Josiah couldn't prevent the amused smile that crept to his lips. "I think I'll be okay," he said, and his tone brought a sheepish grin to the healer's face.

"Sorry. I'll be as quick as I can."

"Take all the time you need, my friend." The ex-preacher placed a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

+ + + + + + +

The moment Nathan had left the saloon, and rushed back to the clinic, Ezra disappeared upstairs and shut himself in his room.

The day had started off so promisingly, but had rapidly degenerated into a nightmare. His idea of checking on Chris and Vin - and his good intention of taking Mary along with him - had gone just about as wrong as it possibly could.

It wasn't just Chris' anger; under the circumstances he could understand it to a certain degree, but it was his own fear for Vin now that had left him so shaken. Less than a week ago, he had expressed his doubts about the tracker's innocence to Josiah, but so much had happened since then that he was almost beginning to hate himself for his misplaced suspicions.

If Ezra was totally honest with himself, he would have to say that he was closer to Vin than he was to any of the others. The friendship was there - although he still wasn't sure that Chris completely trusted him - but the tracker had always seen past his many failings, and accepted him anyway. Now he began to wonder if things would ever be the same again.

The gambler thought he had hit his lowest point when they believed the body in the ravine was Vin, but that was nothing compared to the way he felt at this moment. Twice now he had seen his calm, rational friend inexplicably transformed into someone he didn't recognise, and nothing in life had prepared him for that.

The whole episode with Ella had left its scars on him. He would never forget those last moments in the house, even though he still wasn't sure that he could have reacted the way Buck did. To save Vin, the ladies man had taken the only option open to him, but Buck's words and Ella's screams would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Ezra looked around the room, seeing the bottle of whiskey on the sideboard, and even though it was only a little after ten he poured himself a generous measure, cursing the bandage around his hand that made things awkward. As he finished his drink and refilled the glass, his mind became a little clearer and, putting his own feelings to one side for the moment, his thoughts turned to Mary.

So much for making the right decision; he could still see her face at Vin's terrified reaction, and the way she had fled the room when Chris started yelling at them. It was all his fault that the woman was so upset, and he really should try to make amends.

The second glass of whiskey gave him some courage, but that bravado only lasted until he reached the door. With his fingers on the handle he faltered, realising that he didn't have the nerve to face her at the moment.

Berating himself for being such a coward, he sought solace in the only thing he had to hand. He could only hope that the liquor would make him forget.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan hadn't realised just how hungry he was until Inez brought him a second cup of coffee and another plate of flapjacks, smothered in syrup. As he forked another piece of the light, golden pancake into his mouth Buck appeared, seating himself in a vacant chair.

"Morning, Nathan," he greeted, helping himself to one of the flapjacks. "How're Chris and Vin doing?"

The healer gave him a resigned look as he stole part of his breakfast. "Better."

"Really?" Buck was relieved, but he could see the lines of fatigue on Nathan's face, and hear the weariness in his voice. "You look as though you had a rough night, though."

"Yeah, well, Vin's having some pretty vivid nightmares, and Chris ain't getting much rest either. Josiah's watching them now."

Buck could imagine the kind of nightmares the tracker was having - he had been having a few of his own recently. Their experiences in the burning house had left its mark on all of them, even though Ezra hadn't said much about it, but he had no feelings of guilt about Ella's death.

Nathan saw the thoughtful expression on his friend's face, and he decided that now might be the right time to satisfy his own curiosity.

"You never did say what really happened to Ella," he commented, and he was surprised by Buck's sudden angry, defensive attitude.

"What more is there to say? The woman's dead." The ladies man waited for Nathan to say something more, but the healer just regarded him knowingly. Buck began to feel a little uncomfortable; Nathan had the uncanny ability of being able to see beyond what you were telling him, to the words that were left unsaid. "She tried to stop us getting out. She was crazy - she was going to shoot Vin! I had to stop her."

"But you didn't kill her."

"Nope - just fired back in self-defence. But then the ceiling came down, so we had to get out fast."

"So there was nothing you could do." Nathan paused, guessing that Buck wasn't telling him the whole truth. "Was there?"

"We had to get Vin out." There was finality in that comment, and Nathan knew better than to push him any more. Pushing his plate away, he drained the last of the coffee from his cup and climbed to his feet.

"I'd best check on JD before I go back to the clinic," he said, and Buck's grim expression changed as he gave the healer a huge grin.

"I wouldn't worry too much about the kid - he's in good hands," he stated, laughter in his voice. "I saw Nettie drop Casey off at the boarding house a little while ago." He chuckled. "Ain't young love wonderful?"

Nathan smiled, and started to walk out, but then he stopped and turned to Buck again as he remembered a promise he had made earlier.

"Have you seen Mary?" he asked.

Buck shook his head. "Not this morning," he replied. "Why?"

"She came by the clinic a little earlier, and Chris... upset her."

"He did? What did he do?"

Nathan hesitated for just a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Vin was having a nightmare, and Mary startled him. Chris didn't mean it - he just yelled at her."

"Oh." Buck knew what that was like; he had been on the receiving end of the gunslinger's acerbic tongue more times than he cared to count. Then he grinned. "Still, he must be on the mend if he's starting to yell at people." However, his smile faded when he saw that Nathan didn't share his humour. "She was that upset?" The healer nodded. "Alright, if I see her I'll talk to her."

"I'm obliged. Tell Inez I'll be back for the soup later."

+ + + + + + +

Consciousness came creeping slowly back, until he was drifting in that half-dozing state where dreams and reality became a little blurred around the edges.

Then something disturbed him - the rustle of paper, and the sound of wood scraping on wood - and Vin cautiously opened his eyes a fraction, his heart starting to thump faster as he realised that the room he was in was dark. But this was not the enveloping, pressing darkness of his prison; he could make out vague details in the soft light that was shining somewhere just at the edge of his vision.

The last thing he could recall with any real clarity was the moment Ella Gaines had enforced her will over him and taken her pleasure; the breath caught in his throat, and all his fears bubbled to the surface again as he recalled his shame and despair. Everything after that had seemed like a dream, a waking nightmare that wouldn't go away, although he thought Chris had been there at one point, but he couldn't be certain.

Vin wasn't sure where he was, but now he could feel the softness of a mattress beneath him, and the warmth of the blankets against his bare skin, and the pain that had been constantly with him was no more than a dull ache. He lay there quietly for a long moment, allowing his senses to adjust to his new surroundings, and he savoured the feeling of calm and peace.

Across the room, almost directly in his line of sight, he could see the outline of a window, a faint chink of sunlight forcing its way through a crack in the heavy curtain that was drawn over it. His keen ears picked up the sound of horses and the unmistakeable creaking of wagons, accompanied by the underlying drone of voices, and he suddenly knew where he was. The all too familiar smell of carbolic, and the scent of Nathan's herbs, released an almost overwhelming surge of relief, and he closed his eyes in the certain knowledge that he was finally safe.

As the tension drained from him, other images began to surface, some clearer than others, but it would take him a while to work out what was real and what had been a dream. However, he was now certain about one thing; Chris had been there at some point when he had woken in a panic from a terrifying nightmare.

He could remember hearing the gunslinger yelling at someone, and then he was at his side, comforting him and reassuring him, although Vin wasn't sure that that had actually happened. Chris was not someone who usually displayed his emotions so easily, and the physical contact and the open show of affection was something that the tracker wasn't used to from his taciturn friend. A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he started to doze again, but this time he felt no fear; he would conquer his demons and force them into submission.

Just as he began to drift off, the sound of someone coughing startled him, and he realised that he wasn't alone in the clinic. He opened his eyes as he heard a chair being scraped back, and then a large figure, silhouetted against the window, crossed the floor in front of him.

'Josiah.'

His brain supplied the identification, dragging the name forward through the cobwebs, but he remained silent, watching as the ex-preacher perched on the other bed, bending anxiously over a restless form that he hadn't noticed before.

"Easy, Chris," the concerned voice said, and the Texan was suddenly wide awake. Chris? For a moment Vin was confused; the gunslinger had been here after all but apparently he, too, was sick or hurt. The tracker's first instinct was to go to his friend, but he found to his dismay that he was too weak to even attempt it. Frustrated by his body's refusal to obey, he watched silently as Josiah rose from the bed, returning moments later with a cup in his hand. Oblivious to his audience, he helped the injured gunslinger into a sitting position.

Vin gave a faint gasp as he saw the white bandage around Chris' forehead, and another thick dressing swathing the gunslinger's right arm. 'What the hell'd happened to him?' the Texan thought, his own injuries forgotten for the moment, and he cursed the weakness that kept him from moving. Obviously he had imagined Chris' presence at his bedside, but it had seemed so real at the time.

The ex-preacher let Chris drink his fill from the cup, and Vin saw the older man sag back against the pillows with an audible groan. The concern on Josiah's face as he tucked the blankets back around him heightened his own anxiety, but he was powerless to act.

The sudden, aching pull of cramp in his left leg made him realise that he had been lying in the same position for a while now, and he shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. However, moving was a big mistake as pain, sharp and unexpected, cut across his shoulders, through his chest, and right down to the tips of his fingers, and he gasped out loud as every nerve in his body felt as though it were being rubbed raw.

Josiah put the cup on the floor and eased Chris down against the pillows, his faint groan dying away as he slipped back into a healing sleep. Almost before the ex-preacher had re-arranged the blankets about him, he heard sounds of movement from the other bed, and the sharp intake of breath as Vin made an imprudent move.

A smile crossed his craggy features, relieved that the young tracker was finally waking up, but his relief was tempered by caution as he recalled Nathan's comments, just before he went to his own room to try and catch up on his sleep. The healer had warned him that Vin's reactions could be a little unpredictable in his current state of nervous anxiety, explaining how his confinement in a tiny cell had so badly traumatised him, and he wondered whether he ought to wake Nathan or deal with the situation himself.

However, the choice was taken away from him as Vin became more agitated and, after checking once more that Chris was asleep, he moved swiftly across to the Texan's side. He hesitated for a moment as the tracker turned a vague, blue gaze upon him, but then recognition flared in Vin's eyes, and the ex-preacher gave him a wide grin.

"Josiah?"

That one rasping word told Josiah that Vin now knew who he was, and any worries he may have had about his reactions were suddenly lifted.

"Yeah, Vin. How're you feeling?"

That was a question the tracker couldn't answer straight away. Physically, every part of him hurt, but it was nothing compared to the inner pain and turmoil he felt. With each passing moment, more snatches of memory slotted back into place - Ella, Chris, Farrell - until he felt sordid and sick. He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat dry, and closed his eyes again.

"Vin?" Josiah's voice sounded anxious, and he sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand lightly on the Texan's forehead. He was surprised to find that his skin felt a little cooler, and that he was lucid and aware, and he knew that Nathan would be pleased. "D'you know where you are, son?"

"... home." There was a wealth of emotion in that hoarsely spoken word, and Josiah squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before getting up and pouring some more water from the pitcher on the side.

"Come on, Vin - drink."

The ex-preacher slipped his right arm behind Vin's trembling shoulders, propping him up as he held the cup to the tracker's lips. He swallowed greedily at the water, allowing it to trickle down his parched throat, and his features clouded over when Josiah took the cup away.

"Steady - that's enough." He placed the cup on the floor, and then grabbed at the pillows that were still arranged down the bed. Piling them up behind the young Texan, he eased him back against them carefully. "Better?" he asked. Vin gritted his teeth and nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. "Ribs still hurt?" Josiah could see the lines creasing his forehead, and the sweat that glistened on his skin.

"Some," Vin admitted. In truth, it wasn't just his ribs; there was a throbbing ache across his shoulders every time he tried to move his arms, an ache that travelled right down to his bandaged wrists. However, he pushed his discomfort to the back of his mind as natural curiosity prompted his next question. "Where's Nathan?"

"Sleeping. You and Chris gave him a busy night."

The tracker turned his head, peering past Josiah to where the gunslinger lay. "What... happened... to Chris?" Vin was tiring rapidly, his weakened body craving rest. Josiah saw the weariness on his strained features, and remembered what else Nathan had said.

"He'll be fine, but you need to eat!" He saw the dubious look on the Texan's face, frowning as he tried to recall exactly when he had last eaten. Vin watched as Josiah went over to the small stove and stirred the pot standing on the heat. Despite the tantalising aroma that wafted up, all he really wanted to do was sleep. Relaxing back against the pillows, he turned his head so he could see Chris, his eyelids drooping shut as lethargy stole over him. He was startled awake as Josiah perched on the edge of the bed again, a steaming bowl in his hand.

"Come on," he coaxed, dipping a spoon into the dish. "Just a few mouthfuls."

Vin's stomach gave a queasy gurgle, and the smell of the chicken soup made him feel slightly nauseous as he turned his face away.

"It's the only way you'll be getting out of this bed," the ex-preacher warned, knowing that Vin would have to be bullied into taking nourishment, and he was prepared to fight him all the way if necessary. "Besides, it's not that bad - Chris has had some."

The tracker eyed him warily, and took a hesitant sip at the first spoonful, convinced that he was going to be sick. To his amazement, he kept it down, and the soothing warmth seemed to settle his stomach. A second spoonful followed, and already he could feel some strength returning to his weakened body, even though he could barely keep his eyes open now.

Josiah placed the spoon in the bowl and grasped the tracker's chin, turning his face towards him. "Vin? Do you want any more?" The Texan opened one eye blearily and shook his head, unable to stifle a yawn. The ex-preacher stood the bowl on the floor, relieved to be able to tell Nathan that Vin had actually eaten something. There was a still a long way to go, but those few mouthfuls of soup - and the fact that he had recognised Josiah - were a step in the right direction. Carefully taking away a couple of the pillows that were at Vin's back, leaving him slightly propped up just in case he threw up, Josiah watched as he yawned again and closed his eyes.

The tracker was asleep before he even moved away from the bed.

+ + + + + + +

Dusk was settling over the town as Nathan made his way to Mary Travis' front door, and he knew he had no excuse for putting off this visit any longer.

Buck was now sitting with Chris and Vin, having relieved Josiah who had spent most of the day at the clinic, and he was keeping a watchful eye on the two restless men. The healer had already seen a very depressed Ezra, and he had managed to finally convince him that Chris wasn't angry with him, and that the shock to Vin seemed to have snapped him back to reality. The gambler's delight on hearing that both of his friends seemed to be taking the first steps on the long road to recovery matched Nathan's own, and his black mood had lifted.

However, the healer now had the less enviable task of making his apologies to Mary, and trying to persuade her that Chris hadn't meant to frighten her the way he did. He had thought very carefully about what he was going to say, how he was going to explain Vin's reactions in a way that would satisfy her. She was not a stupid woman, and he could only hope that she accepted his interpretation as to the cause of the tracker's condition. If she was aware of Vin's strong aversion to confined spaces, she would find his reasoning more believable.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan knocked on the door, and it was opened a few moments later by a flustered looking Mary, her face showing first surprise, and then trepidation, when she saw who her visitor was.

"Miz' Travis." the healer acknowledged, tipping his hat politely.

"Nathan!" she exclaimed, disturbed by his serious expression. "Is everything alright? Chris, Vin... ?"

"They're doing fine, ma'am," he replied hastily, realising why she sounded so anxious. "I wanted to apologise for being rude yesterday."

"Oh!" Mary sounded relieved and more than a little curious. "Please - come in."

"Thank you, ma'am." Nathan removed his hat as Mary showed him into the parlour, feeling a little awkward as she bustled about gathering up books and sheets of paper.

"I'm sorry about the mess," she said. "I've been helping Billy with some of his schoolwork, and haven't had a chance to clear things away." She indicated the sofa. "Please - sit down. Would you like some tea?"

"No, I'm fine, ma'am." The healer remained standing, running his hands around the brim of his hat. "I can see you're busy. I'll come back some other time."

Mary stopped what she was doing, and gave a sigh; she wasn't sure who was the more nervous, but she wanted to hear what Nathan had to say.

"It's alright - I'm not that busy," she told him, putting the pile of books onto the nearest table and sitting down on the chair beside it. The healer hesitated for a moment, and then sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, trying to work out where to begin. His carefully rehearsed speech evaporated in the quiet of Mary's living room, and he felt extremely uncomfortable.

"About this morning... " he began at length.

"I know. I'm sorry - we shouldn't have - " She stopped as Nathan shook his head.

"It's not that. Chris didn't mean to yell at you. He was just worried about Vin."

Mary's face fell as she saw again the way the tracker had tried to get away from her; it was that more than anything else that had frightened her. "What happened to him? Why did he act like that?"

Nathan gave her the same explanation he had given Ezra and the others but, judging by the look on her face, he could see that she wasn't entirely convinced. Her next words confirmed his assumption.

"But he reacted to me - or at least, to a woman." She stopped, her eyes wide, and Nathan lowered his gaze, unable to look at her. "It was when I touched him... " Her voice trailed away, and she stared at the healer in horror. "What did she do to him?"

Nathan's embarrassed silence was all the answer she needed; Mary remembered her first meeting with Ella when she came to town, looking for help and looking for Chris. She had oozed confidence when she told Mary that the peacekeepers would be back in a few days - except for the gunslinger - and the blonde woman had seen the predatory look on her face when she spoke about Chris. She had encountered her type before; Ella was a woman with strong physical needs, and she had made her intentions very clear regarding the gunslinger. It would have been all too easy for her to transfer her desires towards the helpless tracker!

"Oh, my God! She didn't... " Mary couldn't stop the tears welling up in her eyes, feeling physically sick as she put her hand to her mouth. She knew how shy Vin was around women, and how much respect he had for them, and her heart ached for him when she thought of how that trust had been savagely violated. Then her hands began to tremble as the anger started to build up inside, a cold fury like nothing she had ever felt before.

The two women had taken an instant dislike to each other and Mary had known, right from the start, that Ella Gaines was scheming, devious, and not to be trusted. Her instincts had proven to be correct, but she hadn't been prepared for just how murderous and obsessive she had actually been. Twice now the woman had almost caused the death of people she cared about and, despite the obvious moral issue, Mary knew that she wouldn't have hesitated in taking the law into her own hands if she had needed to.

"What happened to her?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"She died when the house burned," the healer replied, and he was shocked by the satisfied expression on Mary's face.

"I'm glad she's dead!" she stated vehemently. "Evil like that doesn't deserve to live." Forcing her anger down, Mary looked at Nathan, her expression concerned. "Is he going to be alright? I didn't mean to upset him... "

The healer hesitated for a moment, trying to decide who she meant, but then he realised her concern must be for Vin. She had seen - and heard! - for herself that Chris was going to be okay.

"I think so. It'll be a while before he's back on his feet, but it'll take a bit longer to get over - " He stopped, and Mary finished the sentence for him.

" - what she did to him." She paused, and a frown creased her brow. "Does Chris know?"

Nathan nodded. "But they must never find out you do," he said, his tone deadly serious.

"You have my word."

"I think we'd lose them both if they did."

Mary could see the truth in his words; Vin would be so ashamed that he would leave Four Corners, never to return. And once he had vented his fury on those around him, the gunslinger would follow him without hesitation. She stood up, her composure back in place once more, and she gave Nathan a smile.

"Thank you for coming by," she said, and Nathan scrambled to his feet, knowing that she now understood why both he and Chris' had acted the way they had. As she showed him to the door, she stopped him with one final question. "When can I see them?"

"I'd leave it a couple of days, until Vin's a bit stronger."

Mary nodded. She was disappointed, but she could see the sense in what the healer was saying. She, herself, would need time to adjust to what had happened.

"Goodnight, Nathan."

As the healer walked back through town, he felt a sense of relief that the visit was over. He hadn't expected Mary to guess what Ella had done to the tracker, but he had no doubt that she would keep her silence. At least now she would understand if Vin reacted to her a little differently.

+ + + + + + +

The early morning sun was starting to trickle through the curtained windows of the clinic when Chris stirred, and opened his eyes. He lay quietly for a long while, watching the dust motes dance in the filtered light, enjoying the silence and the calm. Slowly it dawned on him that something was different, but he couldn't think what it was for a moment. Everything seemed just as it had been before; he could hear Vin's soft breathing from the other bed, and he was thankful that the tracker was sleeping peacefully, with no re-occurrence of the nightmares that had plagued him.

As Chris shifted slightly on the pillows, he suddenly realised what had changed. For the first time in four days there was no pain in his head, no remorseless throbbing that made him feel sick to his stomach. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him, and he cautiously raised his head, bracing himself for the agony to return. To his surprise, it never came and the gunslinger slowly sat up, his hand reaching for the bandage around his forehead.

Still not quite believing that the pain had really gone, Chris removed the dressing and dropped it onto the bed. Tentatively he felt the half-healed bullet wound above his right eye, realising for the first time just how close he had come to losing his life in his final confrontation with Ella. He still remembered nothing after the gun had gone off in her hand; his dramatic escape from the burning house had been simply the result of his natural instinct to survive.

Pushing the bedclothes back, he swung his legs to the floor and looked about him. There was no sign of Nathan, but then he heard the faint sound of snoring coming through the open door of the other room. Despite the assistance of his fellow peacekeepers, the healer had borne the brunt of tending to the two sick men, but Chris was now determined to ease his burden.

Placing both hands on the edge of the bed, he pushed himself to his feet, wincing as a momentary twinge of pain shot through his still bandaged right arm. Four days flat on his back had left him stiff and somewhat unsteady on his legs, but he was able to pad barefoot over to the doorway of Nathan's room and peer inside. As he had suspected, the healer was stretched out fully clothed on his bed, and Chris felt a surge of gratitude for the care and skill of his friend. It had been a fortuitous day indeed when he and Vin had rescued him from the lynch mob.

The gunslinger's appreciative smile suddenly froze on his lips when he heard the tracker stir and mutter something in his sleep. Rooted to the spot, Chris looked across at Vin, and prayed he wouldn't wake up now. He tensed as the younger man groaned and rolled over onto his side, but thankfully he settled back against the pillows with a deep sigh, still blissfully unaware of what was happening around him. Chris let out a slow breath, and crept back to his bed to retrieve his boots.

Up until now, he'd managed to avoid all contact with his friend, even feigning sleep when he knew Vin was awake, and his overwhelming sense of guilt over Vin's imprisonment and subsequent ordeal at the hands of Ella Gaines was the primary reason for him wanting to leave the clinic. For the past three nights he'd heard the tracker cry out, the nightmares vivid and real, and he couldn't face it anymore. He knew it was a cowardly act, but he had to get out now.

However, as he pulled his boots back on, Chris was faced with another problem. The ripped and bloody shirt he'd been wearing when he'd been brought to the clinic was long gone, and he could hardly walk down the main street with nothing covering his bare chest, albeit early in the day. He had a change of clothes at the boarding house, but first he had to get there. In the end, he draped a blanket from the bed around his shoulders and moved purposefully towards the door.

The bright sunshine that greeted him made his eyes water, and he swore as a sudden pain darted through his head, a swift reminder that his injuries were still not fully healed. He got as far as the balcony before a voice behind him made him stop.

"If you're goin' to sneak off, you could at least make yourself decent!"

Chris turned around to find Nathan in the doorway. The healer had a faint smile on his face, although he was doing his best to try and hide it, and he held one of his own shirts in his hand.

"Here - put this on," he said, holding it out to the gunslinger.

Chris gave him a sheepish grin and quickly slipped the shirt on, as Nathan took the blanket and regarded him critically.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Chris told him.

"Yeah? Well, you don't look it." Nathan could see the gunslinger was pale, and the dark circles of fatigue were still present around his eyes.

"I'll be alright," the gunslinger insisted, determined that Nathan wasn't going to stop him now. "The headaches're gone, and besides, you've got your hands full with Vin."

The healer looked at him through narrowed eyes, loath to let him go, although he should have guessed that Chris would try something like this.

"I can't stop you, but you just rest up, y'hear? And I want you to stay in town for a few more days!" The last thing Nathan wanted was for Chris to escape to his cabin and suffer a relapse when he was on his own.

The gunslinger gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay," he agreed.

"Alright, but if you get the headaches again, you come right back here."

Chris nodded, and moved towards the stairs. Nathan watched him go, wondering if he should help him negotiate the steep steps, but he knew his stubborn friend wouldn't appreciate the offer. Nathan watched the tall man as he made his way slowly down to the main street, eventually disappearing into the boarding house. Shaking his head in resignation, he went back inside to his remaining patient.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan had to admit that sometimes - just sometimes - the gunslinger made some sense.

Chris' comments to the healer the previous day had been perfectly valid, even though Nathan hadn't approved! With only the one patient to care for, he had managed to catch up on his sleep, and even found time for some reading.

He looked up from the medical journal in front of him as a knock sounded on the door, and he closed the heavy tome and pushed it to the back of the table. As he got up to see who it was, he noticed Vin stirring, the tracker having been disturbed from his slumber by the, as yet, unknown visitor.

"Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Jackson, but I took the liberty of bringing this along myself. "

"Thanks, Ezra - you saved me the trouble," the healer said, glancing down at the cloth covered tray in the Southerner's hands.

"That was my intention," the gambler said with a smile, trying to peer over Nathan's shoulder. "So - how fares your patient?"

Nathan laughed out loud; it was obvious what Ezra wanted, but the other was not going to ask outright. "I think he's awake now. Why don't you come in and see?"

"If you're certain it's no trouble... ?" The gambler was already halfway through the door, and he put the tray on the table as Vin turned over, and slowly eased himself into a sitting position.

"It's no trouble," Nathan told him. "'Sides, you can keep Vin company while I go and check on Chris." He slipped on his coat and picked up his satchel, without waiting for Ezra's reply. "And make sure he eats!" With that parting comment the healer left.

Ezra remained standing beside the table, keeping a safe distance as he eyed the tracker warily. "My, my, Mr. Tanner - you're looking decidedly better than when I last saw you!" The passing reference to the Southerner's previous, ill-advised, visit wasn't lost on Vin, and he gave his friend a faint half-smile.

"It's alright, Ezra, I ain't about to bite."

Relief flickered in the gambler's green eyes, and he laughed as he stepped forward, pulling a chair up beside the bed. "Such a heinous thought never entered my mind," he replied, trying to sound affronted, and then he smiled. "I would leave such vulgarities to our illustrious leader."

Vin wasn't quite sure he knew what the gambler had said, but he got the distinct feeling that Chris had just been insulted and he joined in the laughter. However, after a few moments he paused, and regarded the gambler earnestly, although he kept the smile on his face. "So - have you seen him?" Even though he tried to make the comment sound casual, Ezra wasn't fooled.

"Not personally, but I believe Mr. Wilmington has. Surely he's been by the clinic?" The gambler could see the concern in Vin's eyes, and the crestfallen expression on his face as he shook his head, and he wondered at the reason.

"Guess he needs time to rest," he said, the excuse sounding unconvincing. Vin knew now what Chris' injuries were, and how he had come about them, and he also knew that Nathan was concerned about him leaving town before he was fully fit. But the tracker's biggest worry was why Chris seemed to be avoiding him, and the not knowing was eating him up inside.

"You are probably correct," Ezra assured him, thinking quickly. He needed to lighten the tone again, and distract Vin from his sombre mood. "But I am being remiss in my duties. If we are to facilitate your speedy recovery, and extricate you from the clutches of our learned healer, you need to take sustenance." It worked; Vin looked totally bemused as Ezra got up and went to fetch the tray. Placing it across the tracker's lap, he whipped off the cloth. "Lunch." he stated simply.

The Texan looked down, expecting to see yet another bowl of soup, and he was pleasantly surprised by the plate of scrambled eggs, and the slice of fresh bread spread with creamy butter.

"Inez thought you might enjoy a change from your usual repast." Ezra saw the delight on Vin's face, and he felt oddly satisfied at his friend's simple pleasure. The image of the wild, distraught tracker in Ella Gaines' house would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he was relieved to see him almost back to normal. "I would suggest you eat it before it gets cold."

Vin needed no second bidding, but with the bandages about both wrists and the stiffness in his shoulders still troubling him, he found using a fork a little awkward. However, he persevered for a while, but Ezra could see his mounting frustration, and the way his hand shook with the effort. Dropping the fork with a clatter, he leaned back, angry at his weakness.

"Allow me." Ezra took the fork and scooped up some egg as Vin scowled at him.

"I ain't no baby that needs feeding!" he said, churlishly.

"No - but sometimes a friend needs a helping hand."

Vin glanced at the gambler, hearing the sincerity in his words, and he gave in, surprising himself by finishing most of the egg and some of the bread. Ezra set the tray aside, and poured a glass of water, helping Vin to steady it as the tracker slaked his thirst.

"That was real fine, Ezra," he said appreciatively, leaning back with a yawn.

"I'll pass on your compliments to the chef," the gambler replied, frowning when he saw how tired Vin looked. "Perhaps you'd care to rest now?"

"In a while." The Texan was quiet for a moment, his expression serious as he regarded Ezra. "Nathan told me you and Buck pulled me out of the burning house," he said at length. The gambler appeared uncomfortable, and he looked down so Vin couldn't see his embarrassment.

"It was nothing," he replied modestly.

"Hardly! You saved my life. Thank you." The warmth and emotion in the tracker's voice made Ezra glance up, and his smile was genuine and heartfelt. Now he knew what it was to have a friend for whom you would risk your life, and who would take his own chances in return. It was something he would never be able to make his mother understand - hell, he barely understood it himself! - but it was a good feeling.

"Any time, my friend," he replied, his gaze dropping automatically to the healing scar across his palm. Nathan had told him that he would probably carry the mark for the rest of his life, and it would be a permanent reminder to him not to take things at face value.

He looked back at the tracker, and his expression softened. Vin's eyes were closed now, and he had slipped sideways against the pillows, looking extremely uncomfortable. Reaching out, he eased the pillows down so that the Texan was laying flat, and his breathing grew deeper and easier as he settled into a natural, healing sleep. "Sleep, Vin," he said softly. "I'll be right here."

Almost an hour had passed before Nathan returned. Ezra had amused himself for a while with the deck of cards he invariably carried, but mostly he had spent his time thinking, and watching Vin sleep.

He heard the healer's footsteps on the stairs, and he knew something was wrong by the way he stalked through the door. Nathan stopped as he came in, frowning in confusion at the gambler.

"You still here?" he said, but before the Southerner could reply, he held up a hand in silent apology. "Sorry, Ezra. Pay me no mind."

The gambler pulled a wry face. "You appear a little fraught," he observed. "Perhaps I can interest you in some coffee? I took the liberty of helping myself."

Nathan nodded, and flopped down on the spare cot. "Sounds like a good idea," he said, taking the cup that Ezra offered him. "Vin been okay?"

"I would have to say 'yes' to that. He ate most of his lunch, and then we talked for a while. However, I fear Mr. Tanner's stamina isn't quite what it used to be."

"And won't be for a while," Nathan agreed with a sigh, but then he glanced across at the sleeping tracker, and a faint smile tugged at his mouth. "At least it means he'll have to rest until he heals."

"Speaking of healing - how is Mr. Larabee?" Ezra winced when he saw Nathan's expression change, and he knew he'd touched a raw nerve.

"Damn that man!" the healer exploded. "He's one stubborn, ornery, no-good - " He stopped as Ezra put his finger to his lips, drawing his attention to the tracker. Vin had started at the sound of his raised voice, and had stirred fretfully, but now he settled back into sleep. "See - even when he's not here, he's causing trouble!" the healer exclaimed, his tone a little quieter.

"Can I assume that the... 'gentleman'... in question has been less than co-operative?" Ezra knew, as well as the rest of them did, how much Chris hated it when he was hurt or sick, and how pig-headed he could be at such times.

"Co-operative? Hah! The man don't know the meaning of the word!" Nathan leaned back, his face like thunder. "D'you know where I found him? In the saloon! I couldn't even change his bandage!"

Ezra tried hard to hide his amusement, and he almost succeeded. "Wasn't Buck supposed to be keeping an eye on him?" he said.

"Yeah - Buck's idea of 'keeping an eye' is to make sure Chris doesn't drink the whole bottle of whiskey!" He turned his glare on Ezra. "Why don't any of you listen to me?"

This time the gambler did laugh, but it seemed to defuse the situation, and Nathan gave a resigned sigh.

"Well, at least Vin won't be going anywhere for a while. I'm gonna make damn sure of that!"

+ + + + + + +

"Chris!"

The gunslinger stopped dead in his tracks as Billy's excited shout carried to his ears. He had already seen the boy and his mother leaving the newspaper office, and was about to walk in the opposite direction when Billy spotted him.

He turned as the youngster ran along the sidewalk towards him, and Chris couldn't prevent the smile that curved his lips.

"Hey, Billy," he greeted, and ruffled the boy's hair. "Where you off to?"

Mary locked the office door and picked up her basket again, watching as Billy grabbed the gunslinger by the hand and dragged him towards her. She could see the apprehensive look on Chris' face, and she knew how he felt. She hadn't seen him since the incident in the clinic, and Nathan's subsequent visit and, although she could understand his reasons now, it didn't stop her feeling awkward.

"Hello, Chris."

"Mary." The gunslinger tipped his hat politely, but made no further comment.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine."

Mary studied him carefully; despite his comment, Chris did not look fine. The livid mark above his right eye still looked red and angry, and she could just make out the white of a bandage under the sleeve of his coat. His face was pale and pinched, and he looked as though he needed to spend a week in bed.

"How's Vin?" she asked. "Have you seen him?"

Chris hesitated a moment before he answered. "Not today," he replied truthfully. He didn't add that he hadn't been by yesterday or the day before, either. Billy looked up at him, his young face eager.

"Why don't you come with us?"

"Yes, Chris - why don't you?" Mary could almost see the gunslinger squirming; she had the feeling that Chris wasn't being totally honest with them, and she was beginning to wonder why.

"Umm... maybe... later." Chris felt a little threatened and confused; he wasn't used to being disarmed by a young boy and a woman! "Besides, Vin's not up to too many visitors."

Mary frowned, but she could see that she was going to get nothing more from him. Billy was tugging at her hand now, eager to see Vin, and she allowed herself to be pulled along the sidewalk.

"Bye, Chris," Billy called, much to the gunslinger's relief. Mary threw a final glance over her shoulder, but Chris was already walking away.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan stopped his nervous pacing when he heard the light tap on the door. Vin was propped up in bed, the dark blue shirt that Josiah had brought for him from his wagon highlighting his pale features, and he had an amused expression on his face.

Despite his assurances that he would be fine, it was obvious that the healer was more worried about Mary's visit than he was. He almost saw the man jump when the knocked sounded on the door.

"Hello, Nathan. Is it alright to come in?"

Before Mary had finished speaking, Billy was already across the room. He bounced onto the edge of the bed, scrambling up to sit just in front of the tracker.

"Be careful, Billy," Mary admonished him. "Vin's not feeling well."

"He's okay," Vin said, returning the boy's infectious smile. He didn't look up, or meet the woman's gaze, concentrating instead on Billy. The tracker didn't really know what to say to her; he felt a little embarrassed that she had seen him so distressed before, and he felt less awkward by keeping his distance.

Nathan was surprised and delighted when he saw Billy with Mary; the boy's presence changed the whole aspect of the situation, making it a lot more relaxed than it might otherwise have been, and the healer applauded her intuitiveness.

"It was a good idea bringing Billy with you," the healer said softly, so only Mary heard him.

"I can't take the credit. Billy wanted to come." Mary smiled at her son as he chatted animatedly to the tracker, and then she frowned when he pulled a sheet of folded paper from the pocket of his pants. She stepped a little closer so she could hear what he was saying.

"I made this picture for you," he said, handing the paper to Vin. "It's to make you feel better." The tracker glanced up briefly as Nathan came nearer, and he started to unfold the sheet, his curiosity piqued.

"That's real nice of you, Billy," he replied, studying the carefully drawn picture of two men on black horses.

"It's you and Chris," the boy continued, and reached out to turn the paper over. "See - I wrote on the back."

Vin could see the two names scrawled in the child's hand, and he glanced over Billy's head at Mary. Judging by the expression on her face, she seemed as surprised as he was. Suddenly remembering his manners, Nathan dragged a chair forward.

"Sit down, Miz' Travis," he said, indicating the seat.

"Thank you, Nathan, but we won't stop too long." Mary made the decision on the spur of the moment. She had intended to stay a little longer, but she could see how uncomfortable the Texan still was in her presence, and she knew it would take a while for things to return to normal. However, she turned and handed her basket to the healer. "I thought you and Vin might like one of my apple pies. There's more than enough for two."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll save it for later." As he placed the basket on the table, Mary turned to Vin, studying him properly for the first time.

"So how are you feeling?" she asked. He was still pale and drawn, but he looked more rested than Chris had when she'd seen him earlier. Despite her resolve, Mary couldn't help thinking about Ella Gaines, and what she'd put Vin and Chris through, but she held her anger down and forced a smile to her face.

"Better, ma'am." He looked down, fingering the drawing, and then Billy gave an excited yell.

"Hey - we just saw Chris!"

"You did?" There was eager anticipation in Vin's tone, but Nathan spoke before he could say anything else.

"How'd he seem?"

Mary looked surprised. "Why? Haven't you seen him?"

"Not exactly." Nathan scowled as he thought back to his encounter with the gunslinger in the saloon when Chris had told him, in no uncertain terms, that his attention wasn't welcome. "And he's not been by the clinic, either."

Billy saw Vin's expression change at Nathan's words and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, but not so low that his mother couldn't hear him. "Is Chris mad at you?"

"Billy!" Mary could understand her son asking - she had been tempted to ask the question herself - but the tracker just shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"So when is he gonna come and see you?"

"That's quite enough, young man." Mary could see Vin floundering for an answer now, even though she herself was curious to know why Chris had lied to her. "I think we should let Vin get some rest now."

"But Mom... "

"Maybe we can come back some other time." Mary looked directly at Vin when she spoke, holding out the figurative olive branch.

"I'd like that," the tracker replied honestly, and Mary smiled with relief, feeling the ice beginning to thaw a little.

As Nathan showed Mary and Billy out, Vin could hear him thanking her for the pie, but he found himself staring at the drawing on the bed. Picking it up, he noticed the big smiles that Billy had pencilled on both faces, and he couldn't help wondering if it would ever be like that again.

When Nathan came back in a few minutes later, the tracker was asleep, the picture still clutched in his hand.

PART 6

JD was whistling as he made his way down the main street towards the Livery, and Nathan's clinic. He was still limping slightly as a result of the wound he'd received at Ella Gaines' ranch, and Nathan wanted to make certain that it was healing properly. It was also an excuse for him to see Vin; Buck had told him that the tracker was on the mend, but he wanted to see for himself.

Of all of them, he was the least affected by the events that had occurred at the house. He had barely had any dealings with Ella the first time around and, although he could understand and sympathise with Chris over the part she had played in the death of his family, the original act of murder was far enough removed from him so as not to give him any sleepless nights.

However, he wasn't insensitive to the moods of the others, particularly Buck, and he knew the ladies man was concealing part of what had happened. Buck's normal happy-go-lucky nature was subdued, more so this time than on the previous occasion when Hildegard had been killed, and he knew it had something to do with what had happened in the house.

He had also seen Chris, and that had him puzzled as well. Considering that the person responsible for the death of his wife and son had perished in the flames, the gunslinger seemed to have sunk into a dark depression, and was to be avoided for the time being.

For JD, the worst part during the past few days had been on a more personal level. When they thought Vin had been killed his grief had surprised him; not since his mother had died had he felt such despair, and he would never forget his relief when Buck and Ezra brought the tracker out of the house.

The young peacekeeper was still whistling as he reached the top of the stairs above the Livery, and then he suddenly stopped, a huge grin splitting his face.

"Vin! You're up!"

The Texan was sitting just outside the clinic door with his feet propped up on another chair. A blanket was tucked around his legs, with a second pulled across his shoulders, and he looked up and gave his friend a faint smile.

"Hey, JD."

The youngster leaned against the railing, just staring at the tracker for a moment. He was thin and pale, and he looked extremely tired, but he was alive and that was good enough for JD.

"How're you feelin'?" he asked at length.

"Better for being out here." Vin's comment was heartfelt, and it made his visitor laugh; the Texan had woken up this morning and told Nathan quite categorically that he wasn't going to languish in bed any longer. To his surprise the healer had agreed, relieved that Vin was starting to feel well enough to want to get up. It was going to take a long time to regain all of his strength, but a little light exercise would get his muscles working again and start to build up his stamina.

However, by the time Nathan had virtually carried him out onto the balcony, Vin was beginning to wonder whether it had been such a good idea. Those few short steps had almost exhausted him, and he had spent most of the morning asleep anyway. But at least he was outside.

"How's the leg?" Vin had seen the way JD was favouring it as he climbed the stairs, even though Nathan had said the wound wasn't serious.

"Fine. Casey's been taking real good care of me. I swear she - " JD stopped, his expression guilty as realisation suddenly dawned.

Vin saw his face drop. "What?"

The young peacekeeper didn't answer him immediately, gazing down the length of the main street as though searching for the right words. "If I hadn't wanted to see Casey that night, none of this would have happened," he finally blurted out, and there was bitter regret in his voice. Vin just looked at him for a long moment.

"It wouldn't've made no difference," he replied, with a shrug. "They jus' would've found some other way." What he said was true - Ella Gaines had been determined that she was going to have him one way or another - but the only thing that might have been different was that Lucy Harris may not have died. However, the tracker kept that thought to himself; there was no point in making JD feel any guiltier.

"D'you really think so?"

"Yeah - he does!" The words came from Nathan, who had suddenly appeared in the doorway. He knew JD had arrived, but he had given them a few minutes to talk before coming out. "C'mon - let's take a look at that leg."

"Aw, Nathan, it's fine - really."

The healer gave an exasperated sigh. "You let me be the judge of that. You can sit a-while with Vin afterwards." Nathan stepped back through the door and JD reluctantly started to follow him, but Vin reached out and touched his arm, stopping him.

"Seen anythin' of Chris?" he asked, casually. JD laughed.

"Yeah, but I've been steering clear of him. He don't look too happy."

Vin made no further comment as the men disappeared inside the clinic. It seemed that everybody had seen Chris except him, and he was beginning to think that something had happened that he didn't know about.

+ + + + + + +

Buck could hear the sound of gunshots as he strode along the sidewalk, but he wasn't unduly worried. He could tell that they were coming from behind the General Store, where Virgil Watson had recently set up a crude firing range for customers who wanted to try out a gun before they purchased it. However, the speed of the firing and the faint chink of breaking glass aroused his curiosity, and he made his way through the shop and out to the back, pausing just beyond the door.

Chris was reloading his gun, a half-empty box of shells on the ground by his feet, unaware of Buck's presence, and the ladies man stood back and watched him for a while. He saw him replace the gun in its holster, and then start to flex his fingers and wrist, obviously conscious of Nathan's instructions about exercising the arm. Buck looked further down the back yard to where a row of bottles had been set up on a low wall, and he was surprised to see that half of them were still intact.

Oblivious to his audience, Chris continued with his shooting practise. The injury to his arm had thrown his accuracy completely off, and he needed to get it back. The gunslinger tensed and then dropped his right shoulder, the Colt leaping smoothly into his hand, and he fired all six rounds in quick succession, shattering four of the remaining five bottles. Seconds later the final one exploded in a shower of glass, and Chris whirled to find Buck grinning at him, a smoking revolver in his hand.

"Empty," the ladies man stated, as Chris' gun was aimed at his stomach.

"Lucky for you," the other growled.

"How many bottles you got?" Buck ignored his friend's scowl. "I'd hate to see you losing your touch."

Chris gave him a scathing look, and re-loaded again. Taking some more bottles from the crate just beside the back door, he stalked away and set them up on the wall. This time when he came back to the firing line, he took careful aim and made every shot count, but now Buck could see the grimace of pain on his face each time he pulled the trigger.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" he asked. "Nathan won't be too pleased."

"Nathan can go to Hell!" Chris snapped. He was coming to the end of his tether - and the tether was beginning to come undone!

It seemed as though ever since he'd made his escape from the clinic, people had been dogging him. Nathan had been fussing around, wanting to check his arm and demanding to know if the headaches were coming back, and Buck had been like a not-so-silent shadow, following him wherever he went, and now it was becoming tiresome. Those who weren't following him were asking about Vin, unable to grasp the fact that he hadn't been to see him.

Chris might have thought that leaving the clinic, and being away from the tracker, would lessen the guilt, but it didn't work like that. He now felt worse than ever.

"Is it me you're mad at?" Buck's question caught him by surprise, but before he could reply, the ladies man went on. "Is it because you didn't kill her?"

Chris didn't need to ask who he was talking about, but until now he hadn't really thought about it. "Is that what you think?"

Buck gave an exasperated sigh. "Hell, Chris, I don't know what to think anymore! Ever since we got back, you've been meaner than a pissed-on bobcat! What the hell's wrong?"

The gunslinger glared at him. "Go away, Buck."

"I ain't going anywhere 'til you talk to me!"

"Fine! I'll go!" Chris tried to step past his friend, but Buck made a grab at him, inadvertently catching him by the right arm, and the gunslinger gave a sharp hiss of pain.

"Dammit, Chris, I'm sorry, but we need to talk."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Well - aren't you glad she's dead?" The words were out now, and Buck was ready for a violent reaction, but Chris just stood there, his shoulders slumped.

"What the hell's the difference? Dead or alive - it's not gonna bring Sarah and Adam back, is it?"

Buck just stared at him as he walked away. He had no answer to that.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah was thoughtful as he walked back towards the church. He had spent some time talking to Nathan, and it was apparent that the healer was worried about Vin.

Although his physical injuries were healing well, the tracker seemed to be getting more introverted and depressed, and it wasn't all caused by what had happened during his captivity. Part of the problem was his enforced confinement to the clinic - almost an extension of his imprisonment - but the rest of it centred on Chris, and his continued absence. Nathan himself wasn't too happy with the gunslinger; he had only managed to change the bandage on his arm once over the last three days, and that had been very grudgingly allowed.

Josiah couldn't offer his friend any explanation; he could see how everything had affected the others, but it seemed that as far as Chris Larabee was concerned it wasn't at an end. The gunslinger seemed lost, almost as though his whole purpose for living had been snatched from right under his nose. The ex-preacher had been relieved when he knew Ella Gaines was dead; it meant that Chris' family had finally found some kind of justice, and could now rest in peace. But the gunslinger still seemed tormented by ghosts from the past, and Josiah could see it tearing him apart.

As he reached the building, Josiah paused in the doorway, seeing the solitary figure sitting down the front. It wasn't until his eyes adjusted to the dim interior that he realised who it was, and he raised one eyebrow in surprise. It was almost as though his thoughts had suddenly taken physical form.

Chris Larabee was such an infrequent visitor to the place of worship that only the most desperate of needs could possibly have brought him here now. Josiah walked slowly down to the front, slipping into the seat across the aisle directly opposite the gunslinger, and sat patiently waiting. Whatever Chris wanted to say or do, it would have to be done in his own time, without any prompting.

The gunslinger was hunched forward, his forearms resting over the back of the seat in front of him and, unusually for him, his hat was gripped in his hands. A full five minutes ticked by before he broke the silence.

"You don't seem surprised to find me here." he stated, without looking at the other man.

"These doors are open to everyone," Josiah replied.

"Even me?" This time Chris did turn his head, trying to gauge the reaction of the older man.

"No-one is excluded." Josiah met the gunslinger's gaze, and he was shocked by Chris' appearance. He looked haggard, too many sleepless nights evident in the lines of strain around his eyes, and he sounded utterly weary.

"This is the only place I could get any peace." Chris knew that no-one would think to look for him in the church, and he needed time to think. He had been sitting there for almost ten minutes, having left Buck at the firing range, and he had half-expected Josiah to arrive at some point, but he was sure that the big man would respect his privacy.

"And have you found it?"

"No, I just feel - " The gunslinger stopped and looked away. Josiah could hear the pain in his voice and, as Chris gripped his hat tighter, he could see the thin trickle of blood running down the back of his right hand.

"What?" he asked softly.

"I feel... empty, like a bottle that's all poured out." Chris paused again, and Josiah held his breath, sensing that the gunslinger was on the verge of opening up. "It's like... there's nothing left."

The ex-preacher nodded. He knew what Chris meant; it was as though he no longer had any purpose in life. "How long have you been chasing their killer? Three years?" Josiah's voice was low and understanding. "In all that time did you ever really stop and grieve for your family?"

Chris' head came up, but his angry response died on his lips as he started to think about what the big man had said. Grieve? Hell, he'd been too bent on revenge for that. He had drifted from town to town, searching for the person responsible, and drowning himself in a bottle when things didn't go the way he wanted. Over the years he had built himself a reputation as a cold, calculating gunslinger, hard and unfeeling, a man who was dangerous to know and even worse to cross. It was as if he had a death wish, not even caring what happened to him, waiting and half-hoping that some younger, faster gunman would finally end it all for him.

"If only I'd been there, I could have stopped Fowler! Maybe... " His voice trailed away, his tone anguished and sorrowful. "All that's left is the guilt. Can you understand that?"

Josiah didn't need to think too hard about that; he had been living with his own personal guilt for most of his adult life. As the older brother, he had felt a certain responsibility for Hannah, even when it became apparent that she was never going to get better, and the few dollars he sent each month towards her keep did little to appease his conscience. He would always feel that he had failed her in some way.

That particular demon had reared its head again quite recently; Vin's behaviour had been a painful reminder of his sister, and it was made all the more poignant by the fact that only the tracker knew anything about Hannah. Josiah couldn't even bring himself to tell Nathan why he had been so concerned for the young Texan. Yes, he could certainly understand Chris' feeling of guilt.

"Only too well, my friend. There are times when we all feel we could have done more for the people we care about."

"More? I wasn't even there when they died!" There was anger in his voice now, and the bitterness of self-recrimination. "And I couldn't even help Vin!"

Now Josiah was beginning to understand why Chris had left the clinic when he did. "You couldn't have stopped it happening. She was a very determined woman."

"And I should have killed her when I had the chance!"

"But you didn't - and you can't change that, nor what happened to your family." Josiah turned in his seat and stared hard at the gunslinger. "You have to let go of the guilt sometime, Chris. Otherwise it just eats away at your soul. Think about all the good you've done here - how many people owe their lives to you."

Chris gave a harsh laugh. "And how many people have paid the price for my mistakes!" he added bitterly.

"Sometimes you have to risk it all to gain it all."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I don't want to take that risk anymore." The gunslinger stood up and glanced around, as though he were seeing his surroundings for the first time. "I don't even know what I'm doing here. I don't belong here."

Josiah watched him go, but he made no move to stop him. No matter what he said, Chris had to work this out for himself. Pushing himself to his feet, the ex-preacher made his way towards the altar, little more than a wooden table with a cross standing on it. Reaching into the small box underneath it, he took out a candle and lit it, carefully placing it down in front of the cross.

Bowing his head, Josiah offered up a silent prayer for Chris' wife and son; it was the one thing he could do for his friend, even though the gunslinger wouldn't have considered it himself. As he crossed himself and turned away, he started to think about Chris' last comments about not belonging here.

At first Josiah had thought he was referring to his presence in the church, something that was totally out of character for the gunslinger, but now he was beginning to have his doubts. Everything that Chris had said gave him the nagging feeling that he was talking about the town, and the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. Was he planning to leave Four Corners - for good?

Josiah didn't need to think too hard about what would happen if he did. Vin would follow him for a start; the tracker's destiny seemed inextricably linked to Chris somehow, although neither man would admit it openly, and that would lead to the inevitable break-up of the Seven. The ex-preacher didn't want that to happen.

Picking up his hat, he headed out of the door.

Josiah finally caught up with the gunslinger at the Livery, having already checked the saloon and the boarding house. and he stood watching him as he slipped the bridle over the head of his black gelding. He saw Chris pause briefly and then carry on, knowing that despite his silent approach Larabee was aware of his presence. Neither man spoke for a while, and then the ex-preacher broke the deadlock.

"So where are you going?" he asked, seeing the filled saddlebags and the extra blanket wrapped around his bedroll.

"I need to get away for a while." Chris didn't look round; he just continued with the final adjustments to the bit and the throat-latch. "You and Buck can take care of things here until I get back."

"So you are coming back?" The question was out before Josiah could stop it, and now the gunslinger turned to look at him.

"Yeah - I just need a few days. Why'd you ask?" In all honesty, Chris hadn't known the answer to that particular question himself until Josiah had asked, but he replied without hesitation. He wasn't going to run from his problems any more, but what the ex-preacher had said gave him pause for thought. What he needed to do now was to finally say goodbye to his family, and then find a way to come to terms with the guilt he felt.

Josiah looked at him for a moment, and then dipped his hand into the feed bin. As he brought it out, the handful of grain he had scooped up began to trickle through his fingers.

"Life is something to hold on to, Chris," he began. "It runs away faster than this corn, and once it's gone, you can never get it back." He closed his hand quickly, and then slowly opened his fingers to reveal a few grains of the feed in the palm of his hand. "Sometimes you just have to hold on to what you have left, otherwise you'll starve."

The gunslinger looked at him, long and hard. He knew what Josiah was trying to say, but recent events were still too painful. He needed to sort out his relationship with Vin and the others, and to try and get things straight in his own mind. To do that he had to have time to himself, even if it meant letting the tracker think he was avoiding him.

"I know," he agreed at length. "But I need time to think. Just tell Nathan I'll be fine."

"And what do I tell Vin?"

"Vin?" Josiah's question caught him by surprise.

The ex-preacher nodded, and rested his hand on the neck of the black gelding. "Friendship is a fragile gift, Chris. Be careful you don't break it."

"Tell him... tell him I'll be back."

Chris lead his horse out into the daylight and swung into the saddle. Glancing down the street, he saw Mary Travis standing just outside the newspaper office, looking in his direction. First Nathan, and then Josiah, and if he stayed he knew Mary would be next. He gave a heavy sigh; he knew these people were concerned, and that they cared about him, but sometimes it was almost smothering. He needed the solitude of his cabin to clear his mind, and maybe he'd also visit the graves of Sarah and Adam.

Touching heels to the black, he cantered out of town.

+ + + + + + +

Vin was bored, frustrated, and heartily sick of being in the clinic, but more than any of that he was confused.

Two days ago, according to Josiah, Chris had ridden out of Four Corners, and some people were wondering whether he would actually return. Although the ex-preacher had assured him that Chris was coming back, Vin became less certain as time dragged by. The gunslinger had not been near nor by Nathan's place, not even to see how he was, and the Texan was beginning to feel that he'd lost a friend, without knowing why.

Consequently, he'd been snappy and moody, and he'd been taking it out on Nathan, which then threw him into deeper depression when he realised what he was doing. The situation wasn't helped by his continuing restriction to the clinic and the upper balcony; the confinement was making him edgy, but he had no choice. He was still as weak as a newborn colt, and just as unsteady on his legs, and the healer was keeping a close eye on him.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, soaking up the unseasonably warm afternoon sunshine as he lounged in a chair on the balcony. He had spent most of the day sitting out, watching the activity of the people to and from the Livery Stable below; Nathan had even brought lunch outside for both of them, sensing how much he needed the freedom and the space.

Now, while the healer made his second excursion to see to other duties, Vin had decided that enough was enough. Much as he hated to deceive Nathan, he knew he had to get away. When the man had left, a little over an hour ago, Vin had gone back inside and found his moccasins, slipping them on and taking a blanket back out with him to hide the footwear. He was dozing when the creak of a board startled him awake.

"You okay?" Nathan asked as he came up the stairs, his gaze dropping to the cover tucked around the Texan's legs.

"Yeah. I got cold." Vin's words were hesitant, the lie making him feel ungrateful, and he couldn't meet the healer's eyes.

"Alright. Just don't stay out too long." Nathan eyed him critically. "I gotta see Mrs. Watson, and then I'll be back."

Vin's determination wavered a little at the healer's concerned words, but he gritted his teeth and forced an answer out.

"I'll be okay," he replied, hoping that Nathan would accept that and leave him alone.

"Alright. I won't be long."

The healer went into the building and re-emerged about ten minutes later. Rather than answer any more awkward questions or, worse still, lie, the tracker feigned sleep, feeling totally wretched when a cool hand briefly touched his forehead before Nathan crept down the stairs again.

He waited a full fifteen minutes longer before he even dared to open his eyes. By that time he knew exactly what he was going to do. Flinging back the blanket, Vin stood up, and made his way across to the stairs. He paused at the top step to catch his breath, waiting for his legs to stop shaking before he made his slow way down. He stopped again at the bottom, sitting on the third step up for a moment, wondering if it was worth it and whether anyone had seen him, but freedom was too enticingly close to give it up now.

Pushing himself up, the tracker made his way into the Livery, glancing around to see who was there. The place appeared to be empty, and only his black and an unknown paint occupied two of the stalls. He started towards the wooden burro that his saddle rested on, but then he stopped, realising he didn't have the strength needed to put the heavy rig on his mount. Instead he unhooked a bit-less bridle from a peg and stepped into the stall, hissing softly to the animal as he slipped it over its head.

Leading the horse towards the double doors he used a bale of straw to scramble onto its bare back and then chirruped in its ear, the merest touch of his heels sending the restless, frisky gelding into an easy lope.

Vin didn't look back as he took the trail out of town.

The first thing Nathan noticed when he got back was the empty seat on the balcony. He frowned when he saw the blanket in a heap on the boards, but he assumed that Vin had gone back inside. The sun was still out, but the air had a chill bite to it now, and he knew the tracker had been feeling the cold earlier.

However, his benevolent mood disappeared when he discovered no sign of the Texan inside the building, and he cursed his own trusting nature when he realised Vin was gone. He should have been forewarned by Chris' actions, but Vin had appeared content with his little forays onto the balcony, not demanding or seeming to want more. Now he could see that the tracker had only been biding his time, lulling him into a false sense of complacency, and he had walked unwittingly into it!

"Damn you, Vin!" he swore, as he rushed down the stairs and gazed up and down the main street. The obvious place to start looking would be the tracker's wagon, and he headed in that direction.

Fifteen minutes later Nathan was really starting to worry. He had checked the wagon and the saloon, and there was still no sign of the missing tracker. As he came out of the General Store he had bumped into Ezra, sending him to the other side of town to continue the search.

Standing on the sidewalk, the healer was wondering where to look next, when he found his gaze being drawn to the Livery. Surely Vin wouldn't be so foolish as to consider riding out of town in his weakened condition - would he? Taking to his heels, Nathan ran down the street and into the barn, and a quick glance confirmed that the tracker's horse was gone.

Swearing under his breath at the stupidity of Texans - or at this one in particular! - the healer was contemplating bringing his own mount in from the corral and heading out after him when the sound of approaching hoofbeats stopped him in his tracks. Turning, he saw Chris Larabee riding towards him, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he dashed back out into the late sunshine.

"Chris!" he called.

"Nathan? What's wrong?" The gunslinger pulled his black to a snorting halt, his voice concerned when he heard the worry in the healer's tone.

"It's Vin."

Chris went cold. "What about him?" he demanded.

"Damn fool's taken his horse and gone!" Nathan was angry now, as well as worried. Chris swore silently as he pulled his horse's head around. He thought he might know where Vin had gone.

"How long's he been gone?"

"Less than an hour I'd guess." Nathan's lips were a tight, thin line, and he shook his head in exasperation. "I can't believe he did this! I can't believe I fell for it!"

Chris patted the neck of his skittish mount as he held it in check. "I think I know where he'll be. Don't worry - we'll be back in the morning."

The gunslinger sounded so confident that Nathan didn't even question his intuition.

"Just find him," he said.

+ + + + + + +

Chris knew that his guess had been correct when he saw Vin's gelding fastened to a scrubby bush some way back from the edge of the cliff. As he drew rein and climbed down from his own mount, he could see how much of a hurry the tracker had been in; the black had on a simple hackamore in place of its usual bridle, and had been ridden out bareback.

Fastening his horse beside Vin's, he looked around. The ground sloped away slightly towards the precipice, and he could see a lone figure sitting close to the edge, the breeze tugging at his thin shirt and lifting his hair as it swirled about him. Striding forward, he sank down, conscious that the tracker didn't even look up or acknowledge his presence.

The silence stretched between them, with both men reluctant to break it, but Chris noticed that the Texan was watching something. Squinting out across the valley, he saw a dark shape hanging high above the ground, etched against the backdrop of the late afternoon sun, and the piercing cry of an eagle, mournful and eerie, carried to his ears. The bird soared, the red-gold light transforming it into a phoenix as its outstretched wings caught the updrafts from the cliff, and it wheeled effortlessly away, before turning and coming back for a second sweep.

"Been watchin' him for a while now," the tracker said suddenly, his hushed voice cutting through the stillness. "He's lonely. He's lost his mate."

"So what's he doing?" the gunslinger asked, his words just as quiet as Vin's.

"Just... looking."

"What for?"

"He's not sure," the tracker replied softly. His entire being was focused on the great bird as it glided silently by, his mind caught and held by the feeling of freedom and loneliness. "But he'll know when he finds it."

The gunslinger continued to watch the raptor, but he also threw the occasional sidelong glance at Vin, seeing the concentration on the Texan's face as his eyes followed the eagle's every move. "Why doesn't he leave?"

Vin was silent for a moment. "He can't. It's his home, so he'll not go too far."

"Maybe he's looking for his soul-mate."

The tracker didn't reply straight away, but Chris saw the way his shoulders tensed. "Maybe," he said finally, his voice flat and non-committal.

They sat for a few minutes longer, until the bird gave another shrill cry, a subtle difference in the sound now, and it dropped out of the sky straight towards them.

"Oh shit!" the gunslinger cursed, bringing his Colt out as he scrambled to his knees. His left hand closed on Vin's shoulder, and he tried to drag him back from the edge, but the tracker resisted.

"Wait!"

The eagle swooped so low that Chris would swear that he could see every feather, every pinion, as it passed over their heads. A heartbeat later it was a distant speck, and it seemed to dip its wings in silent acknowledgement as it disappeared across the valley. Chris let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and holstered his gun, giving a sigh of relief.

"It wasn't gonna attack," the Texan told him with a sigh. "Just protecting his own." He pulled his gaze away from the sky and drew his knees up, resting his forearms on them wearily.

Chris glanced at him in concern; his face was grey with exhaustion, and he began to wonder just how he had managed to ride this far. "C'mon. You look like you could use some coffee." He hauled Vin to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his arm as the younger man staggered, swaying dangerously close to the edge, and now he could see the bloody graze down his left cheek and across his chin. "What happened?" he asked, turning Vin's face to the right so he could get a better look at the scrapes.

"I slipped," he mumbled, the lie burning on his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Chris that he had been so exhausted by the ride that he had passed out as soon as his feet touched the ground. He didn't want to spend any more time in the clinic than was absolutely necessary.

"Yeah? Well, Nathan's gonna kill you if you undo all his hard work!"

Vin gave a faint smile; that sounded like the old Chris, but he still wasn't sure how much he had been changed by what had happened. He allowed the gunslinger to guide him away from the edge, moving back until the horses were between them and the stiff breeze that had sprung up. Sinking down on the ground, he shivered again as the cold seeped into his bones, but then Chris was there, draping a blanket around his thin shoulders.

"Reckon Nathan sent you after me," he said at length.

"He was worried," the gunslinger admitted. "But he didn't send me." His hand was still resting lightly on the other's shoulder, and he could feel him shivering as the day started to lose its warmth.

"I just needed to get away." There was the unmistakeable edge of fatigue in the tracker's voice, and Chris was glad that he'd told the healer not to expect them back until the morning.

"Yeah - I know," he agreed. He had felt the same way himself just a few days back. "You just take it easy. I'll soon have a fire going."

At that point Vin realised that Chris had no intention of returning to town tonight, and for that he was grateful. His ribs were aching now, and he was so tired that he didn't think he'd be able to get on his horse, let alone ride back to Four Corners. He watched as the gunslinger unsaddled his own horse and then started to gather wood for a fire, and he began to think about what he was going to say to him. He yawned, rubbing his hand across his bleary eyes; he knew they needed to talk, but the problem was where to start.

"Vin."

The tracker jerked awake with a start as Chris shook him. He hadn't intended to drop off, but he could see that he had dozed for some time. The fire was burning brightly now, and the night was closing in around them as the gunslinger thrust a cup of coffee into his hand.

"What were you aiming to do, coming out here like this?" Chris' fingers tightened painfully on the Texan's shoulder, and Vin shrugged.

"Don't rightly know," he conceded, taking a sip of the hot drink, hoping it would dispel the chill in his bones. "Just couldn't stand another night shut in."

Chris could understand his feelings; after his ordeal at Ella's hands, and Nathan keeping him closeted at the clinic, he was surprised Vin hadn't run sooner. Picking up his own cup, he sat down opposite the tracker, dragging the other blanket around his own shoulders, and he watched him covertly for a while. Eventually Vin looked up, feeling the hazel eyes on him, and he frowned.

"Nathan said you'd left town."

The slightly accusing tone took Chris by surprise, and he felt a brief flicker of irritation that even Vin should question his actions. However, the emotion died away when he realised that if anyone was entitled to ask, then it was the tracker.

"Just as far as the cabin. I needed to think."

"What about? If you were coming back or not?"

There was a long silence, and Chris could feel his anger start to build up again, but it wasn't aimed at Vin; it was directed towards himself, and it was guilt-generated. Josiah had already assumed he was running from his problems, and now the tracker had virtually accused him of doing the same thing. Maybe at first, that had been his intention, but not any more.

"Comes a time when running out isn't the answer." He heard the tracker's sharp intake of breath, and saw the look of guilt on his face, and he suddenly remembered a previous occasion when he'd accused Vin of doing just that.

"I know." There was self-recrimination in the Texan's voice. "If I hadn't left that morning... " His words trailed away as he remembered how close Chris had come to dying, and his own fear at the prospect of losing his friend. He had lost count of the number of nights he'd lain awake, wondering if things might have been any different if he'd stayed. Vin still didn't know what instinct made him check on Ella, but he felt he should have tried harder to convince Chris of her deceit.

"It wasn't your fault. If I'd listened to you, none of this would have happened." The gunslinger stared through the flames, and for a brief moment he saw again that haunted look in the blue eyes, but this time it was his own imagination. "If I'd killed her when I had the chance, she wouldn't have used you the way she did." The comment was out before he could prevent it, and he could cheerfully have bitten his tongue off when he saw the sudden horror on the tracker's face as he realised what Chris meant.

Vin could feel the shame burning on his face as his heart started to pound, and he tore his gaze away from Chris, wanting to look anywhere except at his friend. He knew with absolute certainty now that the gunslinger had been there, and knew what Ella had forced him to do, and all the degradation and self-loathing came rushing back.

"I'm sorry."

Chris barely heard the two whispered words, but he was shocked nonetheless. "What the hell for?" Once again the gunslinger was amazed by Vin's naivety. "You didn't have a choice!"

Vin didn't answer him straight away; Chris was right in that respect, but it couldn't erase the shame he felt, and he hated the thought of anyone else knowing, especially the gunslinger.

"Nobody's blaming you. I know what she was like." He saw the Texan lift his head and look at him, dismay in his eyes.

"Who else knows?" he asked miserably.

"Just Nathan." Chris cursed his own lack of tact that had left the tracker feeling worse. "He had to."

Vin gave a resigned sigh. He could appreciate why the healer might need to know; he could still recall the nightmares, and the terror of being shut in, and, more painfully, the way he had reacted to Mary, but it didn't explain why Chris had been avoiding him.

"So why didn't you stop by?" The accusing tone was back, and this time Vin regarded his friend steadily. Now it was Chris' turn to feel remorse, but that regret came out as bitter anger.

"Knowing what she'd done to you? How could I?"

The tracker was taken aback. He hadn't expected Chris to feel guilt over that, and he knew now why the gunslinger had stayed away. However, it was time to put the past behind them and move on, otherwise there would always be a strain on their friendship that might eventually reach breaking point. Vin didn't want that and, unless he missed his guess, neither did Chris. "Why not? You couldn't stop her."

"Dammit, Vin - I should've killed her!" He was laying the blame squarely on his own shoulders, and his voice was anguished as he continued. "I never even had the chance to avenge my family!"

The tracker could hear the torment in Chris' voice, and he could understand a little of what he was going through. The gunslinger's quest to find the killer of his family was the same as his had been to clear his name. It was the spur that drove them on, and when that chance had been taken away from him - by Chris' killing of Eli Joe - he'd felt cheated, even though the gunslinger's actions had saved his life. The way things had turned out, Chris had been denied the opportunity to do that one last thing for Sarah and Adam.

"Maybe not - but at least she's dead!" Through the flickering flames their eyes met and locked, and for one of the few times since they'd first met, Vin saw Chris Larabee's soul laid bare. "Reckon there's a heap of things we'd change if we could," he said at length. "But what's done is done."

Chris stared at the tracker in surprise, but he could hear the truth in his words, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Now you're starting to sound like Josiah." Vin's answering grin became a yawn, and he hugged the blanket closer around him. "Why don't you get some sleep?" Chris said, carefully building up the fire with more tinder. There was already a nip in the air, and the last thing he wanted was for Vin to catch a chill. "We need to head back in the morning."

The tracker yawned again, finally conceding defeat. He was bone-weary, and it was getting harder now to keep his eyes open, but he made one final effort.

"Not back - home!" he murmured drowsily, easing his tired body to the ground with a sigh. He winced as his aching ribs pulled and protested as he tried to get comfortable, and he dragged the blanket up to his chin to ward off the cold night air. His eyes closed as he slipped into an exhausted sleep, curled on his side with one hand tucked beneath his cheek.

Chris watched him for a moment, seeing the way the firelight accentuated the contours of his thin face. Nathan was right to be worried; Vin had always been lean and wiry, but his recent ordeal had left him skinnier than a half-starved wolf pup, and it was going to be a long time before he got his strength back.

The gunslinger poured himself some more coffee, pausing as Vin stirred and muttered softly. Chris could see he was trying to curl up into a tight ball, and he knew he had to be feeling the cold, so he slipped the blanket from his shoulders - still warm with the heat from his own body - and tucked it around the Texan.

"Chris?"

The gunslinger wasn't sure whether Vin had spoken or not; his eyes were still closed, but he had stopped shivering.

"Yeah, partner?" He waited, thinking the tracker had gone back to sleep, but then he spoke again.

"Nothin'," he mumbled. 'Just checking you're still here,' Vin's inner voice said as he finally succumbed to the demands of his exhausted body.

In the flickering light from the fire, and with the lines of strain smoothed from his face as he relaxed in a deep sleep, Vin looked young and vulnerable, and Chris had to smile at that thought. It was all too easy to forget that Vin was young, not that many years older than JD, although more than age separated him from the youngest peacekeeper. It was only at times like this that the gunslinger could see beyond the trail-hardened, self-reliant exterior, to the young man he really was.

'Not back - home.'

That's what Vin had said, and Chris knew he was right. It was what they both wanted, a place to belong, and to be needed. Neither man had put down too many roots in their lives, although the gunslinger had snatched an all-too fleeting moment of happiness with Sarah and Adam, and it had been that void that had drawn them to each other, and ultimately to the other people in Four Corners.

Tossing some more wood onto the fire, Chris hunched a little nearer to the warmth. It was going to be a long, chilly night, but he didn't think he'd be able to snatch more than a few hours rest. His mind was still too full of what had happened, and he knew they would be facing the repercussions of their actions, or inactions, for some time to come now. The first of these consequences would have to be confronted tomorrow, and Chris gave a soft laugh.

He wouldn't want to be in Vin's boots when Nathan next laid eyes on him. The healer had not been at all happy at being deceived!

+ + + + + + +

Nathan had just finished eating with Buck and JD at the saloon, and he was still sipping his second cup of coffee when the two peacekeeper's got up and took their leave.

"See you later," JD said.

"Alright - and not too much walking on that leg, y'hear?" The healer couldn't help himself; it was just his nature to worry about his friends, and some times were worse than others!

"It's alright - Buck volunteered to do the rounds this afternoon." JD gave a smirk, and then ducked as the ladies man took a half-hearted swipe at him.

"Oh I did, did I?"

Nathan grinned, glad to see that Buck was almost back to his old self, but then his smile faded a bit as his thoughts turned once again to Chris and Vin, and he wondered whether they were okay. By rights they should have been home hours ago - the gunslinger had assured him they would be back by morning - and whilst he hadn't exactly been pacing the floor all night, he had been up early, watching the trail into town for two familiar figures.

Setting his cup down, Nathan glanced up at the clock. It was almost half past one, and he was seriously thinking about riding out to look for them when JD rushed back in.

"Nathan!" he yelled, his tone excited, and the healer didn't need to be told anything more. Joining the youngster and Buck at the batwing doors, he saw the two men approaching the Livery Stable.

"Well it's about time!" he breathed, angry but also very relieved. As he stalked off towards the stable JD started to follow, but Buck dropped a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't if I was you. What Nathan's got to say to those two ain't fit for young ears!"

As the two men drew rein beside the big corral at the front of the Livery, Chris glanced up the street, and a bemused expression crossed his face when he saw Nathan hurrying towards them. Leaning across, he tapped Vin on the arm and pointed.

"I think we're in trouble." Chris dropped from the back of his horse, and then walked round to stand by the neck of Vin's. "You okay?"

The tracker nodded. "Fine," he replied, but as he slid from the black he felt his knees start to give way, and he was grateful for the steadying hand under his elbow.

"That was a damn fool thing to do!" Nathan stopped in front of the two men, and glared at Vin as he launched into his tirade. "What were you thinking of - riding out like that? You can barely stand!" Vin opened his mouth to say something, but Chris nudged him and shook his head. He knew it was better to let Nathan get it all out of his system. "Suppose you fell off? What then? Look - " He pointed at the tracker's horse. "No food, no water! What if... " He suddenly stopped, and shifted his focus to Chris. "And you're no better! You said you'd be back by morning!" The healer paused for breath, glancing from one to the other. "What? Nothing to say?"

Vin threw a quick look at Chris, seeing the amusement in the gunslinger's eyes. "Hell, Nathan - y'all seem to be doing just fine by yourself."

The healer spluttered, and then he smiled, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

"You about done?" Chris put in.

"I reckon. You two never listen anyhow." Nathan shook his head, taking a moment now to study them carefully. Both men were travel-stained and weary, and Vin had his arm resting over the neck of his mount, almost as though he needed the extra support. "C'mon, you look like you're about to fall over."

The tracker shook his head. "I ain't going back!" he stated defiantly, referring to the clinic. Before Nathan could get into yet another argument, Chris took the matter into his own hands.

"Vin can rest up at the boarding house," he suggested "There's a spare room there."

The healer frowned, not at all happy, but he knew he had little choice in this matter. The boarding house was a compromise; other than that it would be the Texan's draughty wagon or, worse still, back out of town.

However, the one thing that was very obvious despite their exhaustion was their attitude towards one another. Whatever problem had been between them - and he knew part of it had to be Ella Gaines' abuse of Vin - it appeared to have been resolved, and that took a weight off his shoulders. Both men would recover quicker now.

"Alright, but I'll be by to check on you both later. Now git - before I change my mind!" Vin started to walk away, not quite believing that the healer had given in so easily, but Chris remained where he was, and he gave Nathan a wry smile.

"Um, there is one thing... " he began.

"What's that?"

The gunslinger held out the reins of both horses and, without thinking, Nathan took them. His comment, as Chris quickly followed the Texan, would have made Mary blush!

+ + + + + + +

Vin had stuck it out at the boarding house for just two nights.

Nathan had made good his promise and had been to check on both of them a few hours after they had arrived back. The healer had examined Vin's ribs and decided to leave the strapping around them for a while longer, but he had removed the bandages from both his wrists. The infection was completely gone now and the skin was starting to heal well, although they were still a little sore, and Nathan had left him a pot of salve to rub into them several times a day.

However, Chris didn't get away that lightly. Nathan was furious when he saw what he'd done to his arm; he had put too much strain on it when Buck had caught him behind the General Store, and had re-opened a number of the lacerations, riding out without even having the dressing changed. The healer had told him - in no uncertain terms - exactly what he thought of that particular action as he cleaned and re-bandaged the wounds.

Once Nathan had left, the two men went off in search of supper, Chris staying in the saloon afterwards while Vin returned to the boarding house to catch up on his rest. He slept right through until mid-morning of the following day, only surfacing when Chris banged on his door to make sure he was alright. But he was restless; even though the room he was staying in was quite large and airy, and the window was open as wide as it would go, it hadn't stopped the nightmares.

He had awoken in a cold sweat the second night, thinking he was back in the tiny cell. Unable to dispel the fear that the walls were closing in around him, he had taken his blanket and sat out on the front porch for the remainder of the night. The tracker had dozed for a few hours but at sun-up, just before the town started to wake up to the new day, he stole away to his wagon.

As he turned into the alley opposite the hotel he felt a great sense of relief; it might look like a battered covered wagon to some people, but to Vin Tanner it was home. Unfastening the back flap, he climbed in and sat down on the wooden chest that held his meagre supply of spare clothing, and gave a sigh of contentment.

Ella Gaines had almost taken all of this away. First she had used him as bait to lure Chris into her clutches, and then she had simply used him! It was a shameful, degrading experience that he would never forget, but he was determined to put it behind him. The fear of enclosed places was never going to leave him though; he had only kept his sanity by retreating to the far corners of his mind, excluding everything else. The way back was going to be a long one, and he had almost lost control a couple of times, but he knew he would get there, given a little time and space.

He glanced around at the familiar surroundings, idly picking up an object here or a treasured belonging there, scarcely able to believe that it was real. There had been so many times over the past week that he thought he'd never live through another day, let alone return to Four Corners, and it made every trivial thing seem that much more precious now.

A sudden impulse made him reach under the front seat and pull out a small wooden box. Vin ran his fingers lightly across the simple carvings on the lid, the colour of the walnut burnished to a warm glow by years of handling. The box had belonged to his mother, and it was his only link to the past and a family life he barely remembered. Placing it on his lap, he slowly removed the lid and stared at the two objects inside. The bone handled comb had been used every day by his mother, but the delicate silver brooch shaped like a butterfly had only been worn on special occasions. The metal was slightly tarnished now, despite his careful polishing, but it still brought the image of his mother clearly to mind.

There was a soft smile on the tracker's face as he gently fingered the brooch; this was the first time he'd even thought about the box since the day he'd arrived in Four Corners, but he knew what had drawn him to it now.

When he'd made his illicit departure from the clinic, he had known - with absolute certainty - that Chris would come looking for him, and also that the gunslinger would know exactly where to find him. Of course, ill-prepared as he was, he would have been in serious trouble if Chris hadn't come after him the same day, but that thought had never entered his mind. The night out of town had given the two men the opportunity to talk, and before they had started back the next morning Chris had surprised Vin by talking about his family.

The anger was gone now - there was no-one left to point the finger at - but the bitterness and guilt would probably never leave him. Vin had let him do most of the talking, astonished at how much Chris was opening up. The gunslinger had actually laughed as he recalled one or two of the more amusing antics that his young son had got up to, and he freely admitted that he would like to have had more children, especially a little girl.

Chris had also shared some of his treasured memories of Sarah, and the one thing Vin hadn't been able to respond to was when the gunslinger had told him that he wished Sarah had known the Texan. 'She would have liked you,' Chris had said, and the tracker hadn't known what to say.

Suddenly Vin became aware that there was more noise on the street outside, people and horses moving back and forth, and he realised that several hours had passed, and he was feeling hungry! Putting the lid back on the box, he slipped it back into its hiding place beneath the seat and decided that breakfast seemed like a very good idea.

Only Buck and Josiah were in the saloon when he arrived; it was too early for Ezra to be up - even though it was well past nine o'clock - and when he asked about JD, the ladies man suddenly laughed.

"He has a few civic duties to perform first," he said with a grin.

The tracker frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"He's clearing up after last night's drunk," Josiah elaborated, at which point Buck laughed even harder.

"Yeah - and this time it ain't Chris!"

Vin joined in with the joke as he pulled out an empty chair. It was clear that the other two had already eaten, but as he sat down Inez suddenly appeared at his elbow.

"Vin! I'm so glad to see you up. How are you?"

"Better, thanks."

"Good! So what can I get for you?" She tossed back her dark hair and held up her hand. "I have ham, beans, and hash browns," she said, ticking them off on her fingers. "And I could scramble some eggs if you like?"

"Hey! How come I didn't get a choice?" The indignant comment came from Buck, but Inez just gave him a scathing look.

"There are some people who deserve a choice," she said, but there was no malice in her tone.

"That sounds fine," the Texan assured her, and she disappeared towards the kitchen.

"You're certainly looking better this morning," Josiah commented, pouring a cup of coffee and passing it to the tracker.

"Still a touch skinny, though," Buck pointed out, poking Vin in the ribs.

The Texan yelped and jumped. "Ow, Buck! Careful."

"Sorry!" The ladies man pulled a sheepish face. "I forgot."

Josiah shook his head; sometimes Buck could be a little tactless. "C'mon," he said, sliding his chair back. "Let's go and see if JD's finished his chores."

Buck drained the last of the coffee from his cup, and stood up. "Yeah, okay. See you later, Vin. You gonna be around?"

The tracker looked at him, his expression puzzled. "I ain't going nowhere."

Josiah and Buck had just gone out of the door when Inez returned with a laden tray and placed it on the table in front of Vin.

"There you go," she said, topping up his cup with some fresh coffee. "You need feeding up!"

Vin stared at the plate in dismay, knowing he was never going to do the meal justice. There were thick slices of ham and crispy golden hash-browns, as well as a mountain of fluffy scrambled eggs! Inez saw the look on his face, and misinterpreted it.

"It's not to your liking?" she asked.

"Yeah - it's just fine," he assured her, picking up a fork. Satisfied, Inez left the fresh pot of coffee, gathered up the other dirty plates, and left him in peace.

Five minutes later, when Ezra came down the stairs, Vin had barely made any impression on the food.

"Good morning," the gambler greeted, slipping into the chair opposite and giving him a warm smile. He was delighted to see the tracker looking so much better. "I see Inez has tempted you with her culinary skills."

Vin looked down at the food, and then pushed another fork across the table. "Yeah! But I think she was cooking for the whole town! D'you wanna help me out?"

"A pleasure, my friend."

As Ezra scooped up some of the egg, the batwing doors opened and Chris strode in. He gave the gambler a cursory nod as he dragged a chair round and sat down, helping himself to the coffee.

"Missed you at the boarding house this morning," he said, looking at Vin over the rim off his cup. The tracker gave him a quick glance, and then lowered his gaze to his plate.

"Was up early. I couldn't sleep."

"Uh-huh?" Chris could guess why he was up early; Vin's nightmares were going to take a long time to disappear - if they ever did. Putting down his cup, he turned his attention to the breakfast. "You gonna eat all that?" he asked, as Vin picked at the scrambled egg. Without waiting for a reply, he reached out and snagged one of the hash-browns, popping it into his mouth.

"Hey!" Vin watched as yet more of the food disappeared, and the gunslinger licked his fingers appreciatively.

"As I recall you did request some help," the gambler pointed out, and Vin leaned back with a sigh, pushing the plate towards Chris.

"You may as well finish it," he said. "I'm about done anyway."

The gunslinger and the gambler soon demolished the remainder of the breakfast while Vin looked on, basking in the normality of the situation. He hadn't realised how much he took these things for granted, or how much he would miss them, until he had been faced with the prospect of losing it all for good.

Wiping his mouth and fingers on a check napkin, Ezra pushed back his chair and stood up. "Gentlemen, I must leave you. I have a few errands to run and people to see." As he stepped around the table he paused beside the tracker and looked down. "Er... will we be seeing you later?"

Vin glanced up, unable to hide his frown. "I'll be here," he replied, his tone confused. As the gambler left, Vin shook his head.

"What?"

The Texan turned to his friend, seeing the amusement in the hazel eyes. "They're up to something," he said slowly.

"What d'you mean?"

"Buck and Ezra - don't you think they're acting kinda funny?"

Chris shrugged. "Hell, how can you tell the difference?" Leaning forward, he peered at the tracker closely. "You sure you're not imagining it?"

"Maybe."

But Vin was not entirely convinced.

+ + + + + + +

"Here they come!"

"Calm down, kid. I ain't hard of hearing yet." Buck dropped a hand on JD's shoulder and followed his gaze as he looked out of the saloon window.

Chris and Vin were strolling along the opposite sidewalk, heading in the general direction of the saloon, and they could see the gunslinger darting glances at the building when he thought Vin wasn't watching. It had taken a little persuading on Buck's part to get Chris to bring the tracker along at a specific time, and he was only really convinced once Nathan assured him that he and Josiah would be present as well.

"C'mon, guys. You about done?"

There was a chorus of agreement from those just inside, but then Ezra spoke.

"I just need to get something, but you go ahead."

"Dammit, Ezra, hurry up!" Buck hissed, pushing JD out of the door in front of him. "You gotta do the talking!"

"I'll be there," the Southerner replied, but he was wasting his breath. The others were all out on the sidewalk now, waiting.

When Chris suggested a drink at the saloon, Vin thought nothing of it. Nathan hadn't said anything about not having a beer or two, although he had warned him away from the whiskey for a while longer, and in truth he getting sick to death of coffee.

Now, as they crossed the street to the building, he could see Buck, JD, Nathan and Josiah standing out by the doors. As he and Chris stepped up onto the sidewalk, Ezra appeared as well, a huge grin on his face.

"Boys," the tracker said, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked at them in turn. Josiah and Nathan were smiling, while Buck and JD kept laughing and nudging each other like a couple of big kids, and the gambler just looked as though he was about to launch into a speech! "What's going on?" His words were directed at them, but he looked straight at the gunslinger as he leaned against the doorframe, a little apart from the others.

Chris shrugged; he had guessed that the others were planning something when Buck had enlisted his help, but he was as much in the dark as the tracker - and just as curious!

"My dear Mr. Tanner," Ezra began, stepping forward. "We realise you are a man of simple tastes and simple needs - "

"What d'you mean - simple?" Vin cut the man off in full flow, but the gambler held up both hands in apology.

"Pray - allow me to finish."

Buck leaned forward and hissed loudly in the Southerner's ear. "Finish? You ain't even started!" Ignoring the second interruption, Ezra carried on.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, modesty prevents me from commenting on your sartorial naivety, so as a token of our esteem - "

"Just get on with it," JD muttered, not quite sure whether Vin had been insulted or not.

"Yeah - just give him the damn thing!" Buck growled, seeing the total confusion on the Texan's face. Ezra gave a dramatic sigh and turned round to pick up the package that had been hidden behind them on the bench.

"We would like to present you with - " It simply wasn't going to be the gambler's day.

"Here!" Buck snatched the parcel from him and thrust it at the surprised tracker. Vin took it, turning the neatly wrapped package over and then back again.

"I thought you wanted me to do the presentation?" Ezra rounded angrily on Buck, and the ladies man scowled back at him.

"Yeah - but I didn't expect you to take all day about it!"

Vin watched the two men bickering for a moment, and then JD came to stand beside him.

"Go on," he urged, and the tracker looked at him.

"What?"

"I think they want you to open it, son," Josiah told him, but the tracker still seemed unable to grasp the situation.

"But... it ain't my birthday."

"No? So when is it?" the healer asked.

Vin shrugged. "Hell, Nathan, I don't know!"

"So it could be today," Ezra put in brightly, having caught the tail-end of the conversation.

"Just open the damn thing, Vin!" Buck was getting impatient now; he wanted to see his friend's reaction.

Still a little bemused, Vin began to fiddle with the string holding the wrapping together. Suddenly a black-sleeved arm was thrust under his nose, a small pocket knife held in the fingers. He looked up into Chris' face, and his expression said it all.

'Are you in on this?'

The gunslinger's reply was equally silent, equally eloquent.

'No.'

Vin cut through the string and handed the knife back, peeling back the layers of brown paper. His mouth dropped open in shock as he held up the fringed buckskin jacket, the paper fluttering unheeded to the floor. As he continued to stare at it Ezra stepped forward and took it from his unresisting fingers, holding it out invitingly.

"I believe it would be prudent to try it on for size?" he suggested. Numbly Vin turned and slipped his arms into the jacket, and Ezra did his impression of a high class tailor by checking the fit of the shoulders and the width across the back. "Perfect!" he said, turning Vin around so everyone could see him.

"Yep!" Buck agreed. "Mary did a real fine job with the altering."

"Well? Ain't you gonna say something?" JD had been watching Vin's face, seeing the different emotions that struggled to make themselves known.

Vin didn't know what to say without making a total fool of himself and besides, he didn't think he'd be able to force any words out past the lump in his throat. He could feel the gunslinger's eyes on him, but he didn't dare look at Chris; it was going to be hard enough to look at the others. The generosity and affection of his friends had totally overwhelmed him, and he could feel the warmth creeping into his cheeks as he tried vainly to hide his embarrassment.

"Aw, hell!" was all he said.

"It's to replace the one you lost," Ezra told him, and the serious tone of his voice made Vin look at him intently. The tracker was aware of the incident at the ravine, but he hadn't really appreciated how much it had affected his friends until now.

"It looks real fine on you," Josiah commented.

"Yeah, Buck wanted to drag it round town for a few days," JD began.

"Just to give it that 'lived-in' look that is uniquely you," Ezra finished with a grin. Vin looked at the smiling faces before him, still too stunned to string more than a few words together.

"Thank you," he said, his voice choked.

"No - wait! There's something else!" Ezra darted back into the saloon, and Vin and the others watched him go, wondering what more there could possibly be. He was back in a few seconds, and he held out a long, cloth-wrapped object to the tracker.

"I think this belongs to you."

Vin knew what it was before he even took the covering off. The weight and feel of his sawn-off Winchester was as familiar to him as breathing, and now he could feel the emotion threatening to spill over.

"Where... ? How... ?" He stopped, at a complete loss for words.

"Let's just say the thief in question no longer had a need for it."

Vin stared at the gun for a moment longer, and then he turned his gaze on his friends, no longer worried about the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. Finally he looked at Chris, who been silently watching the whole proceedings, and the gunslinger gave him a quizzical half-smile when the blue gaze fastened on him. There was no need for words between them, just the silent acknowledgement of friendship.

Chris felt a strong sense of well-being when he saw the Texan return his smile. What the others had done for Vin had been from the heart, and it made him realise just how empty all their lives would be if they had really lost him.

The gunslinger had had no idea what the others had been planning for Vin, but now it made his own gift that little bit more special. Slipping his hand into his pocket, his fingers closed about the small medicine pouch that Ella had sent to him as proof that she had the tracker, so many days ago now. He would return it to Vin at a more appropriate moment, knowing how spiritually important the item was to his friend. Maybe then the Texan would start to feel whole again. Stepping forward, he clapped Vin on the shoulder.

"C'mon, boys - the first round's on me!"

There was a whoop of delight from Buck as he rushed through the door. There were still some things that never changed.

The End