Faith of the Heart

'Cause I've got faith of the heart
I'm going where my heart will take me.
I've got faith to believe
I can do anything.
--Diane Warren

PART 1

The noon stage rolled down the main street of Four Corners at the same time it always did, just a little after one o'clock.

Brushing an imaginary speck of dust from the lapel of his jacket, Ezra Standish briefly wondered why people still referred to it as ‘the noon stage' when it was always an hour or more late. He glanced at the people standing beside him. Mary Travis and her father-in-law, the esteemed Judge Orin Travis, were watching the approaching stage with interest, but Vin Tanner appeared just as bored and restless as Ezra felt himself. Of the two of them the tracker had been the most reluctant to participate in this show of public dignitary, but with the imminent arrival of a prominent politician – who also happened to be an old friend of the Judge – it was deemed to be their civic duty. In fact Judge Travis had insisted on at least two of the peacekeepers being present, and with Chris Larabee still away in Diablo Falls the task had fallen to Vin and Ezra. The gambler was still trying to work out how the other four had managed to wriggle out of it.

The coach came to a halt almost level with the four-person reception committee and the guard scrambled over his seat and clambered on the top to hand down the luggage. Stepping forward as the door opened, Ezra gave the passengers a cursory glance as they got out.

A tall man in his early to mid fifties was the first to step from inside. His broad shoulders filled the expensively tailored jacket well, and a smile creased his tanned face as he held out his hand to help down a woman of approximately the same age.

"Henry! Good to see you."

The Judge stepped forward and gripped the man's hand warmly but Ezra found his attention drawn to the third person to appear at the open door, and a jolt of recognition rippled through him. The young woman's beauty was almost breathtaking; long auburn hair fell in soft waves from beneath the small, neat hat perched on her head, and the sensible two-piece travelling outfit did nothing to hide the rich sensuous curves of her body. The deep green of the material complimented her complexion perfectly and Ezra sensed, rather than saw, Vin take an involuntary step forward as the woman's gaze swept over them. With an ease born of practise the gambler deftly nudged his colleage aside, his right hand outstretched as the woman started to alight.

"Marie? Marie Laborteaux!" he exclaimed. "What brings you to Four Corners?"

The young woman paused momentarily and frowned, and Ezra thought he saw the merest hint of annoyance cross her face. "I'm sorry, sir. You must be mistaken," she told him haughtily. "My name isn't Laborteaux."

Without a flicker of hesitation the Southerner smiled, but the humour did not quite reach his eyes. "Your pardon, Ma'am. I thought you were someone else."

"Allow me, my dear." The tall man stepped forward with a wry grin, and the gambler moved back as he helped the woman down.

"Thank you, Henry."

The last two passengers climbed down behind her, an elderly man in a cheap brown suit and a man much younger, his clothes as exquisitely tailored as those of the Judge's friend. He was an attractive man with dark wavy hair and brown eyes, and he wore the expensive jacket with the ease of one born to it. The man in the brown suit cast a furtive glance towards the other passengers before he picked up a battered valise and quickly hurried off with the older of the two women while the man the Judge had called ‘Henry' turned to those who had been awaiting their arrival.

"Would you care to do the honours, Orin?" he said.

"Of course. Vin Tanner, Ezra Standish, I'd like you to meet Henry Kirkland and his wife, Catherine."

With a start Ezra realised that the attractive young woman was married to the Judge's friend, but despite her quick denial he was certain he was not mistaken. He ­was positive he knew her.

"My pleasure, gentleman." Kirkland shook their hand in turn, and then he leaned forward and kissed Mary on the cheek. "My dear, it's a delight to see you again. So sorry to hear about Stephen."

"Thank you." Mary lowered her gaze momentarily, but then looked up as the smartly dressed young man approached her. "Clayton," she acknowledged.

"It's been a while," he said, taking her hand and holding it a little longer than was absolutely necessary. "I'm glad to see you haven't forgotten me."

Ever observant, Vin Tanner may have been the only person to see the flicker of distaste on the blonde woman's face as the man spoke but Mary smiled graciously enough. Clayton Kirkland, spoilt only son of Henry, had been one of Mary's many admirers some years back and had declared himself ‘heartbroken' when she had rejected his advances and married Stephen Travis instead.

"Hardly. I've been following your father's career with interest." Mary's response was polite but cool and obviously not the answer Clayton Kirkland was hoping for. His face hardened but before he could say any more the Judge interrupted.

"It must have been a very tiring journey," he said, smiling at the new arrivals. "Why don't you get settled in at the hotel and we'll talk some more over dinner. Is seven thirty alright? I'll make the arrangements."

"Thank you, Orin. That'll be fine. Catherine?"

They started to walk away but the Judge paused, turning to the two peacekeepers. "Would you mind fetching the luggage, boys?"

Vin touched his hat in acknowledgement and then grinned as he saw Ezra studying the bags. Finally the gambler made his selection, picking up the small hatbox from the top of the pile, and the Texan gave a sardonic smile.

"Ya sure y'can manage that?" he asked but his sarcasm was wasted on Ezra.

"May I remind you that we are employed as peacekeepers in this fine town? Our stipend, meagre though it is, does not extend to such tasks of menial labour."

The tracker stared at him for a moment, trying to work out exactly what he had said and then he shrugged. "Whatever ya say, Ezra. Here!" Vin thrust a large leather valise into the gambler's arms, trying to hide his grin as the other staggered under the weight of it. Gathering up the remaining bags he followed Ezra along the sidewalk. "So why'd ya think Kirkland's wife is this Marie Labby... Labbo... ?" he asked at length.

"Laborteaux - Marie Laborteaux," Ezra supplied as his friend struggled over the unfamiliar name.

"So who is she?"

"She reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago, but I was obviously mistaken. She was no lady!"

Vin gave the gambler a sidelong look, seeing the slightly troubled expression on his face, but he made no further comment. Like the rest of them Ezra was entitled to have his secrets, and Vin knew better than to pry into his friend's past. Sometimes you could dig up more trouble than you expected.

"That was an excellent dinner, Orin," Kirkland said, patting his lips with his napkin. "Thank you."

Judge Travis grunted and took a sip of his claret. "You sound surprised, Henry. Did you think Four Corners wouldn't be civilised enough to offer you a decent meal?"

The other glanced at him in surprise, suddenly conscious that he might have offended his friend, but then he saw the twinkle of amusement in his eyes and Mary Travis covering her mouth with her own napkin in an attempt to hide a smile. He laughed heartily and gave the Judge a light punch on the shoulder.

"Oh, you nearly caught me out there, Orin!" he grinned. "I forgot that your father-in-law had such a wicked sense of humour, Mary."

She smiled again and looked around at the other two guests at the table, and her humour faded as she noticed their dour expressions. Catherine Kirkland had barely touched her food and seemed far from impressed with the first-class service that the waiter had provided. Clayton merely looked bored, although that had not prevented him from trying to engage Mary in conversation whenever a suitable opportunity arose. Seemingly oblivious to the ill humour of his wife and son, Henry Kirkland was in a convivial mood.

"Well, I must say the town appears to be prospering, Orin. Your peacekeepers must be doing a fine job."

"Peacekeepers?" Clayton sounded surprised. "You mean there's no sheriff in Four Corners?"

"Not officially." Henry supplied the answer. "The Judge has introduced a more… unorthodox method of enforcing the law in this town - and it seems to be working."

Catherine looked up in sudden interest. "Just how many of these peacekeepers are there?"

"Seven," Travis answered. "You met two of them when you arrived."

"I'm looking forward to meeting this Chris Larabee of yours," Kirkland went on. "I've heard a lot about this gunslinger."

"Well, Chris is out of town at the moment, but he should be back in the next day or two."

"Did you say a gunslinger?" Catherine exclaimed, her curiosity piqued. "He hardly sounds like the type of person who should be looking after the town."

"Chris' days of being a gunslinger are long gone, Mrs Kirkland," Mary said firmly. "He's a good man to have around and Billy is certainly fond of him."

"Well then, he must be a very special man indeed," Henry said.

"He is."

Catherine looked closely at the blonde woman as she spoke, noticing that her face was suddenly tinged with a rosy hue. Billy Travis didn't seem to be the only one who harboured feelings for this intriguing Mr Larabee.

"Why Mary, I do believe you're blushing!"

Clayton looked up at Catherine's comment and saw for himself the subtle reaction caused by the mention of Chris Larabee's name.

"Nonsense! It's the wine, and it is quite warm in here." To her complete surprise Catherine Kirkland agreed with her.

"Yes, I'm getting a bit of a headache myself. I must be more tired than I realised."

Henry leaned forward and touched his wife's hand. "Perhaps an early night would be best. I'll walk you back to the suite."

"No, no, don't be silly." Catherine gave him an engaging smile. "I would hate to drag you away from your friends."

"I'll see she gets back safely, Pa." Clayton made the offer as his father hesitated. "I know the Judge has promised you a game of poker and I'm really not up for that tonight."

"Well... if you don't mind?"

"I must be going as well." Mary pushed her wine glass away and stood up. "I left Casey sitting with Billy and I promised her I wouldn't be back late."

"Of course." Judge Travis rose with the other two men and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. "Good night, my dear. I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes - good night, Mary. Thank you for a pleasant evening." Clayton made it sound as though they had spent the entire evening alone but Mary made no comment. Pulling her wrap around her shoulders she turned on her heel and left. Catherine put her hand to her mouth and delicately stifled a yawn.

"I'm so sorry, but I really am very tired."

Henry tilted her face up towards him and kissed her lightly. "Good night, my sweet. I'll try not to be too late."

The two older men watched as Clayton escorted her from the restaurant, and then the Judge laughed.

"Young people today just don't seem to have the stamina."

"I hope you remember that in the morning after a hard night's poker and whiskey!" Henry slapped his old friend on the shoulder. "Now, where's this game?"

+ + + + + + +

Ezra could not quite believe his current run of luck - all of it bad.

It was a little before ten and they had been playing poker for almost an hour and the gambler had been losing badly for most of that time. When the Judge and Henry Kirkland had appeared in the saloon earlier that evening, Ezra had been only too willing to participate in one of his favourite past-times with a new player. Josiah had sat in for a short time but as the stakes became higher and each pot grew steadily larger he had politely folded, taking on the role of interested observer. Buck and JD lounged at the bar, watching in surprise and amusement as the pile of coins in front of the gambler gradually diminished.

As Henry Kirkland spread his ace flush on the table and gathered up yet another pot, Ezra found himself growing increasingly annoyed by the not so subtle comments coming from Buck regarding his playing ability. At first the gambler had toyed with the notion that Kirkland was somehow cheating but then he dismissed that as being an unlikely possibility. He was forced to concede that Judge Travis' old and trusted friend was simply a very good poker player and that his own mind just was not on the game.

Ever since the arrival of the stage he had found himself thinking about Catherine Kirkland. He was now certain that his initial reaction had been correct. Henry Kirkland's wife was not who she claimed to be - or rather she had once been known as Marie Laborteaux, the toast of New Orleans less tasteful society, and intimate with a certain Southern gambler until circumstances had forced her to seek pastures new.

In a way Ezra could understand her reluctance to acknowledge him. She had obviously bettered herself and was now married to a wealthy and influential man and had no wish to be reminded of her less than pristine past. The fact that she had changed her Christian name as well led the gambler to believe that Henry Kirkland was completely ignorant of his wife's former identity. Suddenly Ezra became aware that someone was talking to him.

"I'm sorry - what did you say?"

"I asked whether I should deal another hand, or shall we continue tomorrow?" Kirkland said, shuffling the cards.

"Maybe that'd be for the best." The Judge had two reasons for making his comment. He was concerned that his friend might be tired after his long journey but he could also see that Ezra was unusually preoccupied. While he was secretly pleased that Henry was winning, he had never known the gambler to lose so much money in one evening.

"By all means, let us continue." Ezra took Kirkland's words as a challenge, and the Southerner was not one to cast aside a gauntlet lightly. "I feel my luck is about to change."

As Kirkland dealt the cards around again, Clayton entered the saloon. Picking his way through the crowd he finally reached the bar and ordered himself a beer. Taking a quick sip he turned to the man beside him.

"I see my father's talents are being put to good use," he said. "But why such a crowd?"

Buck grinned and raised his glass in salutation. "Your pa's to be congratulated, son. Folks ain't used to seeing Ezra lose. He's taken enough off them in the past!"

Clayton smiled in reply, hearing the words of a man who had been on the receiving end of the gambler's winning ways too many times himself. He saw his father glance in his direction, and nodded in acknowledgement to Henry's satisfied smile.

A hush fell over the saloon as the hand was played. Ezra's betting grew more reckless, at least to those who knew him, and with a rueful sigh the Judge finally put his cards face down.

"I fold. This is too rich for my blood!"

"Mr Standish, I believe it's up to you."

Ezra studied the cards he held and then glanced at the pot. By his calculations there had to be close to three hundred dollars sitting on the table and he was confident that his three tens, accompanied by the pair of fours, was the winning hand.

"I'll see your five and raise you five," the gambler said with a smile, pushing his last ten dollars forward.

"You seem very sure of yourself, young man." Kirkland's eyes narrowed and he glanced at the Judge, but Orin Travis' face was impassive. "Very well - I'll call."

Ezra could not suppress the grin of delight as he placed his cards down with a flourish. "A full house!" he declared with triumph.

Kirkland looked at the gambler, and then glanced down at his own cards with a sigh. "I don't think that quite beats this."

Ezra paused in mid-reach, staring in utter disbelief at the four sevens Kirkland laid out before him and the collective gasp from the crowd was shattered by Buck's whoop of delight.

"Way to go, Ezra!"

"I can't believe he lost!"

JD's words carried to the gambler's ears and he was forced to agree with the young peacekeeper. As he continued to stare at the sevens, he could not believe that he had miscalculated the fall of the cards to such a degree.

"You are to be commended, sir. It appears that lady luck has forsaken me this evening."

Kirkland accepted the compliment graciously as he scooped up his winnings. "Sometimes these things happen."

Ezra stared him in the face as he pushed back his chair and stood up. "Never fear, I shall have my money back one way or another."

"Sore loser," the Judge commented with a grin as the gambler disappeared upstairs. "It's about time he got a taste of his own medicine."

"It could just as easily have been me," Henry told him magnanimously. Counting out a handful of dollars he stepped up to the bar and placed the coins down in front of the barkeep. "Drinks are on me tonight, boys!" he called.

As the appreciative crowd surged forward, Clayton Kirkland slipped discreetly out of the saloon, an amused expression on his face.

+ + + + + + +

Vin Tanner had finished his lunch, and was strolling along the sidewalk munching on an apple that Virgil Watson had just handed him from his latest delivery. As he licked the sweet sticky juice from his fingers he saw a man on a black horse approaching the Livery and he headed in that direction.

Lounging in the open doorway he watched unobserved as Chris Larabee started to unsaddle his mount. Vin was about to make his presence known when he saw the gunslinger pause in the process of removing the saddle. Chris pressed his right hand against the small of his back, stretching as though he were easing aching muscles, and then he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. The tracker frowned, sensing that something was not quite right with his friend but he made no comment, just scuffed his foot in the dirt so Chris would know he was there.

"Hey, cowboy."

"Vin."

Chris did not look around; he just carried on seeing to his black as Vin stepped into the empty stall beside the horse and leaned his forearms on the partition.

"How'd it go?" he asked, batting away the gelding's muzzle as the animal caught the scent of his apple. Conceding defeat, he fed the remainder of the fruit to Pony as Chris hung the bridle up on a hook.

Chris shrugged; as far as he was concerned his trip to Diablo Falls had been a complete waste of time. When Judge Travis had asked him to make a statement about a violent robbery he had witnessed Chris had been willing to co-operate. However, by the time he had reached the town the man being held for the crime had made a full confession, and Chris' testimony was no longer needed.

"The fella caved in. The Judge gave him ten years." Chris sighed and slung his saddlebags over his shoulder.

"All that way for nothing, then."

"Yeah." There was a wealth of feeling in that one word and the tracker could hear the weariness in his friend's voice as he followed him out of the barn. In the harsh light of day he could see the fatigue etched on the gunslinger's face and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

"Hard ride?" Vin inquired cautiously.

"Not especially. Why?"

The tracker considered his next comment carefully, knowing how touchy his friend could be. "Ya look tired," he stated simply.

"I'm fine. I just need some food and a beer."

"Well, Inez has made a whole mess of chicken stew. I've already eaten but I'll join ya for a beer."

At Vin's words Chris swallowed hard, and considered refusing. Up until this point he had thought himself hungry, but all of a sudden the mere mention of food made him feel queasy. He glanced across at Vin but the tracker did not appear to have noticed his hesitation, so he quickly changed the subject.

"Is the Judge still in town?" he asked, wincing as he rubbed at his eyes, and this time Vin did look at him curiously.

"Ya know he is. He was waiting for this Kirkland fella to arrive." The tracker was a little bewildered; Chris and the Judge had talked at length about Henry Kirkland's visit, and it seemed strange that the gunslinger should forget that within the space of a week. "Y'sure yer alright?"

Chris grinned at the concern in the Texan's voice as the two men reached the saloon. "Yeah! Nothing that a beer won't cure."

But the intuitive Vin Tanner was not convinced.

By the time Chris had forced down half a dish of stew and several beers, the nagging ache behind his eyes had developed into a full-blown headache. Having spent about twenty minutes in the jail checking paperwork and generally catching up on things the gunslinger was seriously considering heading over to the boarding house for a few hours sleep. The long ride had obviously taken more out of him than he had thought and he was getting heartily sick of people telling him he looked tired.

As he pulled the door shut behind him he heard his name called and he looked up to see Judge Travis accompanied by a man and woman he did not recognise heading towards him. The curse died on his lips and he forced himself to be civil but he was not really in the mood for socialising right at this moment.

"Chris - when'd you get back?"

"Howdy, gentlemen - ma'am." He touched his hat politely, wishing he were a hundred miles away. "A coupla hours ago," he replied to the Judge's question.

"I see." The Judge nodded thoughtfully. There would be time later to find out how his trip had gone. "I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. Henry Kirkland - Chris Larabee."

Kirkland took the gunslinger's hand in a firm grip and shook it enthusiastically. "I've heard a lot about you from Orin, Mr. Larabee. Most of it good, I hasten to add." Chris gave a half-hearted smile as Kirkland drew the young woman forward. "May I present my wife, Catherine."

Chris blinked and raised one eyebrow in surprise. For a brief moment he had thought she might have been Kirkland's daughter, but he concealed his astonishment well.

"A pleasure, ma'am."

Catherine Kirkland could not believe her luck. All that she had heard about this dangerous man had intrigued her and she had been curious to find out what Mary found so attractive about him. The answer stood before her. There was an air of brooding mystery about the steely-eyed gunslinger that sent shivers down her spine and she grudgingly admitted that Mary Travis had good taste. There was simply no comparison between Chris Larabee and Clayton Kirkland. Clayton was merely a boy, but the gunslinger was all man!

"Mr. Larabee," she said softly, giving him a coy smile. Chris gave her a fleeting glance and then turned to Travis.

"Were you looking for me?"

"Not especially, but I would like to talk to you later about your trip."

"I've an idea," Henry Kirkland put in. "Why don't you two gentleman join me in the saloon later for a drink? I find myself unexpectedly free tonight. Catherine's being entertained by the Ladies Guild, and I believe my son is taking Mary to dinner."

"Mary?" For a moment Chris was confused, but then he realised that Catherine must be Kirkland's second wife.

"Yes," the young woman said. "Apparently they're old friends, and Mrs Travis seemed very pleased to see him again." Catherine could not resist that final comment, watching to see if there was any reaction from Chris Larabee, but apart from a slight narrowing of the eyes the gunslinger did not take the bait.

"Alright. Ma'am." With a brief nod of his head Chris walked off, and Henry smiled at the Judge.

"An interesting man. Is he always that talkative?"

Travis pulled a wry face, but there was amusement in his eyes. "No," he replied. "You caught him on a good day."

It was early evening and the saloon was starting to get busy. At a table in the corner, his back to the wall, Chris Larabee sat nursing a whiskey and feeling decidedly unwell.

After his chance meeting with Judge Travis and the Kirkland's he had gone back to his room at the boarding house and slept for several hours. The rest had done nothing to refresh him but he was relieved to discover that his headache had abated somewhat. However, the noisy, smoky atmosphere had brought it back with a vengeance and now it was accompanied by an annoying cough that sent nagging pains through his chest and left him short of breath.

His mood was not improved by the solicitous comments from friends and acquaintances, and he had retired to the corner table with a glass and a bottle of Ezra's finest whiskey. His carefully cultivated glare was enough to make most people give him a wide berth as he waited for the Judge and Henry Kirkland, but he knew the reprieve would not last.

"Chris."

The gunslinger did not even look up as Vin placed his empty glass on the table and sat down. As he slid the bottle across to the Texan he could feel the aching muscles pulling across his shoulders and down his back.

Vin poured himself a good measure and then leaned back casually in his chair, elbows resting on the arms and fingers steepled in front of his chin as he regarded his friend. The silence stretched on a little longer until Chris finally tired of the scrutiny.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing. How's the headache?"

"What headache?" the gunslinger growled, knowing that Vin would not be intimidated.

"The one ya've had since ya got back."

The tracker had known there was something wrong as soon as he had seen Chris at the stable, but that had been several hours ago. Seeing him now, hunched with pain and more irritable than usual only reinforced his concern, concern that he had already spoken to Nathan about. To Vin's surprise the healer had agreed that there was definitely something wrong; he had seen and spoken to the gunslinger himself a short time ago, but Chris had told him in no uncertain terms that his fussing was not welcome.

"Did Nathan send you?" Hazel eyes flashed dangerously as he made the accusation.

"Reckon it'd be a good idea if ya saw him." Vin did not deny the allegation but neither was he going to let it go. The gunslinger's hand was shaking as he held the glass and perspiration glistened on his flushed features, and he looked like hell.

"Dammit!" Chris snapped, slamming his glass down with a resounding crash. "Can't a man even drink in peace now?" Several heads turned in their direction as the gunslinger scraped his chair back and surged to his feet. However, the sudden movement made him catch his breath and he started coughing, leaning forward slightly with one hand on his chest as his muscles tightened painfully about his ribs. Vin was on his feet at once, reaching out to grasp his shoulder anxiously.

"Chris, y'okay?"

The gunslinger shook off the restraining hand as he turned a furious glare on his friend. "Just leave me the hell alone!" he exploded as he stormed out.

Vin stood looking after him for a moment, toying with the idea of following but then a hand fell on his own shoulder as Josiah came up behind him.

"Best do as he says, son. He's not in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment." Like the rest of them, the ex-preacher was aware that something was ailing Chris but he had no desire to see the young Texan take the full force of his anger and frustration. "Have another drink," he suggested, pushing him down into the chair.

Vin sighed and picked up his glass, tossing the whiskey down in one quick movement. "Thought I could talk some sense into him. He's sick, Josiah, but the stubborn cuss won't admit it!"

Josiah nodded. "Even the most intractable man knows when to concede defeat. Course, with Chris Larabee that could take a while."

Vin looked at him. He was not quite sure what the ex-preacher meant, but he knew with certainty that Chris would not be giving in any time soon.

+ + + + + + +

"It appears that fortune favours the brave, my friend."

Henry Kirkland smiled as he picked up his winnings and stacked them in a neat pile in front of him.

"Not only the brave, sir," Ezra replied. "Sometimes the foolhardy as well."

Both comments were made in reasonably good humour as the two men sat around the small table in Kirkland's suite. Despite his initial doubts and heavy losses the previous evening Ezra had been delighted to find a player whose skill matched his own, so when Henry suggested a rematch in the privacy of his hotel suite the gambler had jumped at the chance. So far the Southerner was still losing but it was not the winning that counted; it was the challenge of playing against someone of equal calibre – or so he kept telling himself!

Ezra had been in the saloon when Judge Travis and Henry Kirkland had arrived looking for Chris. Despite his absence they had stayed for a drink and the gambler had been surprised when Kirkland had approached him and suggested the private game.

A short while later the Judge had made his excuses. Knowing that Mary had a supper engagement with Clayton Kirkland he had promised that he would look after Billy. It was a duty he accepted with relish as it gave him the opportunity to spend some time on his own with his grandson. Kirkland had left at the same time, having made arrangements to meet Ezra at eight.

They had been playing for almost thirty minutes now and the gambler was beginning to wonder whether he had made the right decision after all as once again Kirkland revealed a hand that had the beating of his own. So intense was the concentration that his glass of chilled champagne stood virtually untouched by his elbow. He had taken a few sips but the sparkling dryness had made him feel a little light-headed so he had left it alone, but now he was warm and in need of something to quench his thirst. Picking up the glass he drained it in one go as Henry shuffled the deck and dealt another hand, but one of Ezra's cards slid across the table and fluttered to the floor. As the gambler bent down to retrieve it a sudden, unexpected wave of dizziness washed over him and he was forced to grab the edge of the table for support.

"Are you alright, Mr Standish?"

The Southerner swallowed hard as he leaned back in his chair. Kirkland's voice seemed to be coming from a great distance, and he was having trouble focusing on the man's features. He wiped at his sweaty brow and shook his head to try and clear it but that only seemed to make it worse. The gambler could feel the blood pounding in his temples and his tongue felt swollen and thick, and he glanced suspiciously at the remains of the drink by his hand, but one whiskey and a glass of champagne had never made him feel like this before.

"I... don't... feel... " Ezra's words trailed off as he lurched drunkenly to his feet. With a low moan he staggered backwards, knocking the chair over and collapsing to the floor.

"Ezra!" Kirkland dropped to his knees beside him, studying the gambler's face carefully. He could see the glazed unfocussed look in the man's eyes as he propped him up against one of the easy chairs, and although the Southerner's mouth opened and closed several times no words came out.

Ezra felt as though he were swimming against a tide of molasses as he tried to struggle up, but everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and even his own words had sounded slurred. Kirkland's face rippled and wavered as it floated in and out of his vision, and fear started to gnaw at him as he tried to understand what was happening. It felt as though he was on the receiving end of one of Nathan's sleeping draughts and he suddenly realised what the problem was. The gambler had slipped enough potions into the drinks of unruly and disruptive customers to recognise the effects, and he cursed himself for a fool. Obviously his suspicions about Henry Kirkland the previous night had some validity, and hot anger coursed through him. If Kirkland thought he had to resort to cheating and spiking his drink to win money from him, then why invite him here in the first place?

"What are you doing?"

There was shock on Kirkland's face as he stared in Ezra's direction and the gambler suddenly became aware of something cold and hard in his hand, and he looked down in horrified fascination at the Remington clutched in his grasp. His confused mind could find no explanation for his action and he seemed unable to control his hand as it brought the gun up and aimed it at Kirkland.

"I don't understand. How could you…? " Kirkland's disbelief was evident in his voice, but he never finished his sentence as Ezra's finger tightened on the trigger. The muffled shot made the Southerner jump as the man jerked backwards, blood spurting from the gaping hole in his chest.

"Why?" he gasped as he collapsed dying at the gambler's feet, but Ezra had no answer. He could feel himself sliding down into a terrifying darkness, Henry Kirkland's final accusation ringing in his ears.

As Mary Travis pushed her dessert plate away and took a sip from the second glass of wine that Clayton had poured for her she found herself pondering the evening. When the supper invitation had been extended to her she had been less than enthusiastic and had seriously considered declining the offer, but she had finally accepted out of politeness and in deference to Henry. However, she had been flattered by Clayton's attention and had enjoyed herself more than she had expected to.

"So what was Paris really like?"

Mary had a woman's natural curiosity, and when Clayton mentioned that he had been travelling around Europe during the previous year she was eager to hear about the exotic places he had seen.

"Everything you ever imagined and more." He smiled. "You would have loved the theatres and the opera."

Mary sighed. "I've always wanted to see Paris," she said wistfully.

"Maybe some day you will."

She blushed and lowered her gaze unsure whether Clayton was making a subtle offer. "I don't think so," she replied honestly. "I have everything I need right here." Mary drank some more of her wine and, emboldened by the alcohol, she finally asked the question that had been uppermost in her thoughts since the Kirkland's had arrived in town. "Where did your father meet Catherine?"

Clayton seemed surprised by the question. "It was in New York just before last Christmas," he replied. "He went away on a business trip, and came back with a new wife."

Mary heard the faint note of resentment in Kirkland's voice, and she looked at him sympathetically. She remembered her father-in-law telling her that Henry had lost his first wife in the summer of the previous year after a long illness. "That must have been very painful for you so soon after your mother's death."

"That was the main reason I went to Europe. To escape for a while."

"You appear to have come to terms with it now."

Clayton shrugged. "She seems to have made him very happy. That's all that counts."

Before Mary could make any further comment there was a flurry of activity and the buzz of enthusiastic voices as a group of women emerged from one of the side rooms. In the midst of the group, holding court, was Catherine Kirkland. As the women bade goodnight and started to drift away, she glanced around the restaurant until her gaze fell upon the table in the corner.

"Clayton, Mary - what a nice surprise!" she exclaimed.

Kirkland scrambled to his feet and gave her a polite kiss on the cheek. "Catherine! I'd quite forgotten your meeting with the Ladies Guild. I trust you had a pleasant evening?"

"It was most enjoyable. Thank you." She glanced from one to the other, and then Mary indicated a vacant chair.

"We were about to have some coffee. Would you care to join us, Mrs Kirkland?"

"I'd be delighted." The woman sank gracefully onto the seat. "And please - call me Catherine."

When the coffee arrived Catherine insisted on pouring and they spent the next fifteen minutes or so in idle conversation. Eventually Mary glanced at the clock beside the door.

"I suppose I should be getting back," she said reluctantly. "I know my father-in-law. There's no telling what he and Billy have been up to while I've been out."

"It's not that late," Clayton began persuasively. "How about a quick nightcap?"

Mary hesitated. "I don't know... "

"My father should be back now, and I happen to know that he has a particularly fine bottle of sherry in his suite. Isn't that so, Catherine?"

"Yes, he has." Catherine Kirkland raised her eyebrows in surprise; she knew of the past history between the two, and she was beginning to wonder if it really was all over.

"Well, that's settled then." Clayton smiled broadly. "If you ladies would wait a moment while I settle the bill...?"

As Kirkland went across to the small reservation desk Mary threw a surreptitious glance at Catherine. Despite the young woman's smile she had the distinct impression that Catherine did not like her very much.

As Ezra slowly opened his eyes the first thing that registered was pain. His head was pounding and the bitter taste in his mouth made him feel sick.

His stomach gave another queasy lurch as he rolled over and cracked his nose sharply on the leg of a chair, bringing tears to his eyes. He gave a pain-filled yelp and took a deep breath, grasping the piece of furniture and dragging himself to his knees. The gambler winced as something dug into the palm of his right hand and he looked down at the Remington still clutched in his fingers.

The nausea disappeared as an icy hand fastened around his heart and he lifted his gaze as shocked recollection suddenly returned to him. Sprawled inelegantly a few feet from the Southerner was the body of Henry Kirkland, wide sightless eyes seeming to stare at him accusingly. With a gasp Ezra dropped the gun, noticing for the first time that the front of his own shirt was spattered with blood.

"No!" he moaned softly, his mind trying desperately to deny what his horrified gaze was telling him. As his senses started to cut through the fog he remembered the poker game and feeling dizzy and disorientated, but everything else was still a confused blur. His only other clear memory was the muffled sound of the gunshot before the nothingness sucked him down.

"No," he repeated as he forced himself all the way up and sank into the chair. "I… didn't… " His own hesitation tugged at already rattled nerves and he tried to think it through rationally but self-doubt and the evidence before him robbed him of that luxury. Whatever had been slipped into his drink was still clouding his judgement and that, combined with the shock of what had happened, led him towards a dangerous, self-destructive path.

With Ezra to think was to act but his actions were not always the wisest course to take. Self-preservation had always been high on his personal agenda and his conviction that no one would believe him made flight seem like the only option. All he could see was Henry Kirkland dead, killed by his gun which had still been in his hand when he came to. Hell, on those facts alone even he would convict himself.

His mind made up the gambler pushed himself to his feet and staggered towards the door. Pulling it open a fraction he peered out cautiously and then froze as he glimpsed shadows at the top of the stairs and heard the sound of voices. He could not hear what they were saying but a woman's laugh made his blood run cold as he recognised Mary Travis.

Hurriedly closing the door he leaned back against it, his mind frantically searching for another solution. He had no wish to come face to face with anybody at this time, let alone a woman he considered a good friend. A slight breeze stirred the curtain at the front window, almost beckoning to him, and he realised that it was the only way out. With a final glance at Kirkland's body he crossed the room and eased the window up before looking out. A balcony ran along the front of the hotel, the deep shadows offering him an avenue of safety as he made his escape. The illuminations from the street below failed to cast any light on the upper part of the building and there were very few people abroad at this hour.

Climbing out Ezra sidled along with his back to the wall until he reached the point where he could drop into the darkened alley beside the hotel. Easing himself over the railing he held on with his hands as his feet scrabbled around trying to find some purchase. His left foot brushed against something solid and as he glanced down at the water barrel his fingers suddenly slipped. He gave a hiss of pain as something sharp snagged his jacket, tearing the material and gouging into the flesh beneath. Already off balance he crashed heavily to the ground, barely stifling a cry as his right ankle turned awkwardly beneath him.

Crawling further into the gloom of the alleyway, the gambler huddled behind the bulk of the barrel as he tried to catch his breath and steady his nerves. Someone shouted in the street and he jumped, but it was only a couple of drunken ranch hands making their way from the saloon. He peered out, watching as they ambled unsteadily along the sidewalk, laughing as they unfastened the reins of several horses tied to the hitching rail just along to his right. Nobody challenged them, and the germ of an idea came to Ezra.

He needed to get out of town but judging by the sickening pain in his ankle he knew he would not be able to reach the Livery and get his own horse, so he would have to 'borrow' one. The bay gelding with its reins hanging loose was the nearest to him and he pulled himself up, gritting his teeth as his ankle almost gave way. Slowly, an inch at a time, he edged his way along the sidewalk, gathering up the reins and leading the animal back into the darkness beside the hotel.

There was no sound of pursuit, no angry yell from the bay's owner, and the Southerner hauled himself awkwardly into the saddle. The horse skittered sideways as it felt unfamiliar hands on the reins but Ezra gave it no chance to misbehave. Urging it forward at a slow trot he took the back trail out of town, pausing just once to look back with confusion and regret.

+ + + + + + +

Mary Travis was still laughing when they reached the Kirkland's suite. Some of the memories that Clayton had reminded her about were still amusing, although Catherine's laughter rang a little hollow. As he took the key from his stepmother he paused and looked down.

"Looks like my father's back already," he remarked, indicating the light showing under the bottom of the door. He swung it open and ushered the two women inside, and Catherine placed her vanity bag down on the table and called out to her husband as she stepped forward.

"Henry, where are... " Her words choked off in a stifled scream as she moved around the sofa and froze in shock, her hands flying to her mouth. Mary was just a step behind her and saw the body almost at the same time she did.

"Oh my God!" she breathed. There was no need for her to go any closer; it was quite obvious that Henry Kirkland was dead. He lay on his back in a drying pool of his own blood, his eyes fixed and staring.

"Henry?"

It took Mary a moment to realise that the tremulous voice was Catherine's and she quickly caught hold of the younger woman's shoulders as she started to crumple. "Clayton, help me!" Mary cried as Catherine slumped heavily against her.

Clayton rushed forward and caught the fainting woman, lowering her to the floor and leaning her against his knees. Kirkland appeared stunned as he glanced from his father's body to the distraught figure of his stepmother.

"Who did this? Why?" He looked up at Mary, his face white and strained.

"I don't know." Mary was as shocked as they were but common sense told her that other people needed to be informed. "Get her out of here. I'll go and find Chris Larabee or one of the others." The man did not move, his face showing no sign that he had even heard her. "Clayton!" Mary almost shouted at him and he jumped, tearing his gaze away from the corpse of his father. "Take Catherine out!"

"Yes... yes... " Kirkland climbed slowly to his feet, gathering Catherine up in his arms as she started to stir. "I'll take her to my room."

As Clayton carried the sobbing redhead out of the room Mary carefully closed the door behind her before hurrying downstairs.

Buck thumped his feet down on the desktop and leaned back in the chair a little more as he accepted the cup of coffee from JD.

"He damn near chewed my head off!"

The remark came from Vin Tanner as he leaned against the jail wall but Buck only laughed.

"You know Chris. He'll get over it once his head clears."

"That could take a while," JD put in. "You know how Chris likes his tequila." He joined in with Buck's laughter but Vin just frowned, his face troubled.

"Reckon there's more to it than that."

Buck gave a sigh and dragged his feet off the desk putting his cup down as he leaned forward, but before he could say any more the door was flung open and Mary Travis burst in.

"Come quickly!" she demanded breathlessly. "Henry Kirkland's been killed!"

"What?" Buck glanced across at Vin and the tracker stepped forward, his concern about the gunslinger temporarily pushed to the back of his mind when he saw the distress on Mary's face.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

"He's been shot! At the hotel."

"Are you alright?" Buck leapt to his feet and studied the woman.

"Yes, I'm okay, but Catherine's taken it very badly."

"We'll handle it, Mary." Vin took her arm, feeling her quivering. "Ya don't have to come back wit' us."

"Yes I do. Catherine'll need me."

"Alright." Buck picked up his hat. "JD, you'd best go get Chris."

"Me?" The young peacekeeper looked horrified at the prospect.

"And Nathan," Vin reminded him.

"But why me?" The idea of seeking out an irritated Chris Larabee held about as much joy as being staked out naked over an anthill.

"Just do it, kid." Buck was serious now. "We'll be at the hotel."

The first person they saw when they arrived at the scene was the short, rotund figure of Herbert Harris, owner and manager of the hotel. The Easterner was reasonably new to the town and even without his pacing and nervous twitch they could see he was a very agitated man.

"Thank heaven's you're here!" Harris pounced on the two peacekeepers before they had taken more than a couple of steps inside the foyer. "I can't believe something like this has happened. Who could have done such a thing? This is so bad for business. What will my customers say?"

"If you keep a-hootin' and a-hollerin' you'll frighten 'em away yourself," Buck said quietly, placing a hand on the manager's shoulder.

"Nobody warned me this kind of thing would happen when I bought this place. I'm a respectable business man!" Buck pulled a face and glanced at Vin as the man babbled on, but the tracker just shrugged.

"Why don't you just show us Mr Kirkland's room," the ladies man suggested.

As the manager took them up the stairs and along the corridor the door to Clayton's room was slightly open, and they could see the young man sitting on a sofa next to Catherine Kirkland, one arm still around her shoulders. Hearing voices he looked up and beckoned them in.

"How is she?" Mary asked stepping forward first.

"A little calmer, but she's still very upset." Clayton glanced up at her and nodded gratefully as she laid a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I still can't believe this has happened," he stated, his tone still sounding shocked.

"Chris'll find out who did it," Mary assured him, her eyes going to the younger woman as she leaned against Clayton's shoulder. Despite Catherine's coolness towards her she could not help feeling sorry for her. Visibly pulling herself together Mary turned to Vin. "Where is Chris?"

"JD's fetching him," he replied. "Why'n't you tell us what happened?"

Keeping it as concise as possible, Mary told him and Buck of their return to the hotel and the subsequent grim discovery of Henry Kirkland's body. In spite of her calm words it was obvious that Mary was shaken by the shocking event.

"Perhaps you'd best stay with Mrs Kirkland while we take a look," Buck told her gently, and Mary nodded in agreement. She had no desire to revisit the tragic scene.

"I'm coming with you." Clayton appeared beside them, his face determined.

The door was still closed when they reached the suite and as Buck pushed it open Harris hesitated, hanging back in the corridor.

"I don't... I'll go downstairs and wait for Mr Jackson, shall I?"

"Good idea," Buck agreed, his tone mildly sarcastic. "We wouldn't want the guests to panic, now would we?"

Leaving the nervous man casting anxious glances down the hallway Buck followed the tracker and Clayton into the room. Kirkland stopped just inside the doorway as though unwilling to go any further, while Buck went straight over to the body and knelt down beside it. As he closed the sightless eyes he looked down at the wound.

"Look's like he was shot at close range," he commented to Vin who was prowling around the room looking for anything that might give them a clue to the killer. A chair lay on its side not far from the body and the corner of a rug had been kicked up.

"Reckon he put up a fight," Vin said as he regarded the furnishings. Buck pushed himself to his feet, not wanting to disturb the body any further until Nathan had had a chance to examine it.

"Was your father expecting anybody this evening?" he asked Clayton, but the young man shook his head.

"I don't think so. I'm not really sure what his plans were. I was having dinner with Mary."

"Buck." Vin had paused in his perusal of the room and bent down to pick something up off of the floor. As the ladies man crossed to his side the Texan held out the Remington that had been partially concealed by the body.

"That looks like Ezra's gun!" Buck exclaimed snatching it out of his hand. "What the hell's going on here?"

There was someone pounding inside his head with a hammer and whoever it was seemed determined to find a way out. Chris Larabee groaned and tried to burrow deeper under the blankets but the relentless throbbing continued.

After his altercation with Vin in the saloon the gunslinger had returned to his room at the boarding house and retired to bed in the hope of finally ridding himself of the headache that had plagued him since he got back to town. At first he believed this remedy would work but just as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep the thumping in his temples had come back, growing increasingly louder until it seemed to fill the whole room.

To his surprise he suddenly heard his name being called and his eyes snapped open with shock. It was only then that he realised the painful throbbing was not just inside his head; someone was banging urgently at his door. Chris groaned again and emerged from the tangled wreck of his blankets blinking in the dim light as the voice called again.

"Chris, it's me - JD. We need you over at the hotel."

The gunslinger swore vehemently and struggled into a sitting position as he pushed the covers back. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he forced himself to his feet and gasped as a sickening wave of dizziness hit him. He swallowed hard as the nausea rose in his throat, and then taking a deep breath he crossed over to the door and threw it open.

"What d'you want?" he growled.

The young peacekeeper drew back a step at the sight of the dishevelled figure before him. The hazel eyes that glared back at him were red-rimmed with fatigue and the tousled dark blond hair was sticking up at odd angles.

"There's been... " JD stopped and peered closer at the older man. "God Chris, you look terrible!"

Chris snarled impatiently, barely suppressing the urge to grasp the other firmly by the throat. "JD... " he warned. The threat in his voice was enough to make the young man gulp with trepidation and he swore he would get even with Buck for sending him on this errand.

"There's been a murder. It's Henry Kirkland, the Judge's friend."

"Oh shit," Chris groaned softly as he turned back into the room. JD followed him inside and stood with his back to the door as the gunslinger picked up his crumpled dark shirt and drew it on.

"His wife and son found him when they went back to the room with Mary," he continued.

"Mary?" Chris repeated in surprise but he had a vague recollection of hearing that mentioned earlier in the day.

"Yeah. She'd been out to dinner with Clayton Kirkland," JD explained. "Vin and Buck are over there now, and I already saw Nathan so he's on his way too."

Chris nodded, wishing JD would cease his chattering. The pounding in his head was growing worse the more the young man spoke. Buckling his gun belt around his waist he went back over to the bed and peered down, lifting the counterpane as he peered underneath.

"What are you looking for?" JD asked curiously.

"My boots."

The young peacekeeper looked around and spotted them almost immediately lying on the floor beneath the window. He went to fetch them and as he came back he found Chris sitting on the edge on the bed, his face drawn and white.

"You alright?" he asked anxiously.

Chris looked up with annoyance and pushed his unruly hair back from his clammy forehand. He made no reply and just held out his hand for his boots. Taking the hint JD wisely kept silent as the man pulled them on and rose slowly to his feet. Picking up his hat Chris jammed it on his head and strode out of the door without another word.

One thing was certain, the gunslinger thought grimly as he started down the stairs with JD at his heels, it was unlikely he would get any rest over the next few hours.

When Nathan eventually entered the suite, Clayton immediately confronted him.

"How is my step-mother?"

"I've given her summat t'help her sleep, but she's as well as she can be for a woman in her condition."

"What d'you mean?" Buck asked before Clayton could say anything.

"Waal, I can't be sure, but I'd say she's at least three months pregnant," the healer told them.

"Pregnant?" Clayton went white as Buck cursed softly.

"Aw dammit!"

"She gonna be okay?" Vin asked, and the healer nodded.

"I think so. She's young and strong. I've left Mary with her for now, but I'll be back again later." He turned away and knelt down beside the blanket-draped form on the floor and drew the cover back. "The bullet got him in the heart." Nathan made the statement as he carefully examined the body. "He must have died instantly."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Clayton asked shakily. "Knowing that my father didn't suffer?"

"No, that wasn't what I meant. I'm just telling it like I see." The healer had been so intent on his examination that he had spoken without thinking, quite forgetting that the victim's son was still within earshot. He watched as the young man went over to the sofa and dropped down on it, his face still shocked and pale, and then he turned back to the body. "The bullet's gone clean through so it must've been close range."

"Any idea on the weapon?" Buck directed his comment at the healer, but his gaze was fixed on Vin.

"Not really, but I reckon it was a pretty heavy calibre," Nathan replied without looking up.

"Like this?"

The healer stopped what he was doing and stared at the gun in Buck's hand. Taking it from him he turned it over several times before handing it back.

"Ezra's?" There was disbelief in his voice. "Where'd ya find it?"

"It was on the floor beside the body."

For a split second Nathan thought that Buck was joking but the expression on his face told him otherwise. He glanced at Vin; so far the tracker had not said a word but it was obvious he did not believe that Ezra could be involved.

"Yer not suggesting Ezra did it, are ya?" Nathan deliberately kept his voice low; a crowd had already gathered outside the suite and he had no wish to add another rumour to the Four Corners grapevine. "Has anybody seen him?"

Vin gave Nathan a withering look, wondering how he could even ask such a question, and he wandered across to the half-open window. Pulling aside the curtain he stuck his head out, seeing the balcony and guessing that it was the most likely way for the murderer to escape. Keen though his sight was it was too dark even for him to make out any details.

Suddenly he heard raised voices behind him and he drew his head back in and turned as the door to the suite was pushed fully open and there was a shuffling amongst the onlookers as Chris Larabee forced his way through. As Vin stepped forward he saw the lamplight glinting off of something shiny lying beneath the easy chair. Unobserved by the others he leaned down and picked the object up, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked at it.

By the time Chris had reached the suite his notorious temper was almost at boiling point. His anger at being disturbed was not helped by the stairs at the hotel; every step made his aching limbs feel as though he were climbing a mountain, and he barged his way through the crowd of people with no thought for their feelings. Throwing a cursory glance at the body, the gunslinger asked Buck for his opinion.

"Any ideas?"

"Some." Quickly the ladies man filled him in on what they had discovered so far, all the while trying to ignore the baleful glare from Vin Tanner. He knew how it looked and he did not need the Texan's silent reproach to make him feel any worse. Chris looked at the Remington that Buck held in his hand before he turned to the tracker.

"What d'you think, Vin?"

For a moment the tracker did not answer. He glanced at the body and then across at Clayton before stepping forward and standing in front of Chris. The Texan did not like the way the evidence was mounting up against the gambler.

"Looks that way," he admitted reluctantly, dropping the small hip flask into the gunslinger's hand. "I'd best go find Ezra."

"You're not going to find him now! He's long gone!" The angry outburst came from Clayton Kirkland as he suddenly stood up and it made Vin pause. "Can't you see he's guilty as hell?"

The tracker's look of contempt said it all but to his credit Clayton did not flinch. Vin did not even grace him with a reply. He just turned on his heel and walked out, picking his way through the uneasy crowd and closing his ears to the whispered mutterings about Ezra Standish.

"That damn gambler swore he'd get his money back one way or another." Clayton continued with his accusations, raising his voice as he turned to look at Buck. "You were there! You must've heard him!"

Buck opened his mouth to deny the words but then thought better of it. There had been too many people in the saloon that night who had overheard Ezra's comment. The ladies man looked helplessly at Chris and gave a slight nod, reluctantly confirming what Clayton had just said. The gunslinger may have been feeling like hell but the glare he gave Kirkland would have frightened the Devil himself.

"Ezra Standish might be a lot of things but he ain't no murderer!"

Kirkland scowled but he knew when he was beaten. As he walked away Buck came over and stood by Chris' shoulder.

"Can we be so certain of that, Chris," he said softly, staring down at the hip flask in the gunslinger's hand, the intertwined 'ES' engraved on the front mute testimony to Ezra's undeniable presence.

"He's gone, Chris."

Almost an hour had passed since Vin had left the hotel in a fruitless search for Ezra. He had checked the obvious places and asked around, but nobody could recall seeing the gambler since he had left the saloon just before eight o'clock. Vin's confusion was further heightened by the discovery that the Southerner's horse was still in the Livery. However, it was not until the tracker was heading back to the jailhouse that he overheard two men talking about the theft of a horse from outside the bank just a few yards along from the hotel.

"So he stole some drunken cow-poke's horse and high-tailed it out of town."

Chris' matter of fact statement as he sat at the desk in the Sheriff's office made Ezra sound guilty and the three items on the table top before him did nothing to dispel his doubts. No one could deny that the Remington and the hip flask belonged to the gambler but the discovery of a single playing card had them all baffled. When Nathan had arranged for the removal of Kirkland to the undertakers, the bloodstained card had been found on the floor underneath the body. Chris picked up the jack of spades and turned it over, realising that it was not from a pack that Ezra would normally play with. The design on the back was completely different and one that he had never seen before.

"Seems to me all this makes Ezra the obvious suspect."

Vin shook his head. "I dunno, Chris. Somethin' just doesn't set right."

Chris guessed that Vin's friendship with Ezra was making it difficult for the Texan to accept the evidence of his own eyes but until the gambler was found that was all they had to go on. Before Chris could make any further comment the door was flung open startling them both as Judge Travis stormed in.

"What the hell are you doing sitting here? Why aren't you searching for Standish?" The Judge's voice was thick with grief and fury as he placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward to confront Chris. "You have all the evidence. Why aren't you doing anything about it?"

The gunslinger's eyes narrowed and he sat back in his chair. He knew that the Judge was upset and he could understand his anger but the peacekeepers were doing all they could under the circumstances. Vin stepped forward.

"Hold on there, Judge. I've already looked round town and Ezra's not here."

"What more proof do you need then?' Travis retorted. "You should be out there searching for him!"

"Even Vin can't track a man in the dark, Judge," Chris replied softly. Travis gave a snort of exasperation and paced across the room and back again.

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" he demanded. Vin stiffened at the implication in his words and Chris sprang to his feet, sympathy forgotten as his blood boiled.

"Dammit Judge, I know Kirkland was your friend but that don't give you the right to... " He broke off with a choking gasp as the breath caught in his throat and he started to cough violently. Slumping forward he put his left hand down on the desk to steady himself and the other came up to clutch at his chest. The Judge stepped back in astonishment as Vin swept past him. The tracker grasped his friend by the shoulders, feeling him trembling under his palms as he carefully pushed him back into the chair. Pulling open the bottom drawer of the desk he took out a glass and the bottle of whiskey he knew would be in there and poured out a generous measure.

"Drink," he urged placing the glass in the gunslinger's hand and closing his fingers around it as he guided it to his lips. Chris spluttered a little as the fiery liquid burned down his throat but he could feel the cough starting to ease.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea... " Orin Travis studied the gunslinger for the first time properly since he had arrived back in town. Chris' face was flushed and sweaty as he took another gulp of the whiskey and he was clearly far from well. Vin hovered anxiously at his shoulder glaring at the Judge, and Travis felt a little guilty over his outburst. He should have known Chris and the others would be doing their best despite one of their own being the prime suspect in the case.

"We'll be heading out in the morning to look fer Ezra," Vin told him curtly, as Chris struggled to get his breath back.

Travis nodded. "Then I'll be ready to come with you at first light. I'll see you then."

+ + + + + + +

A sudden sharp pain in his midriff jolted Ezra fully awake as the bay stumbled in the dark, throwing him against the saddle horn. Pulling on the reins he brought the animal to a halt, and looked around him. The moon had broken through the clouds now and he had a rough idea where he was.

After his panicked flight from Four Corners he had ridden blindly, not caring where he went just so long as he got away. After a few miles with no sign of pursuit he had slowed the horse to a steady trot, and although the fresh air had cleared his head somewhat the residue of the drug was still making him feel sick and drowsy. The rhythmic motion of the horse had lulled him into a half-doze, only waking as his mount had faltered.

Now the landscape looked familiar and he realised he was heading in the general direction of Chris Larabee's still unfinished cabin. He was also aware of the pain in his right arm and as he looked down at the torn, bloodstained sleeve he remembered catching it as he slipped off the hotel balcony. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket he crudely wrapped it around his forearm before urging the horse forward in a slow walk.

By the time he finally arrived at the cabin in the hills he was totally exhausted. Reaching down he opened the gate to the corral and kneed the horse inside. The bay ambled to a stop as Ezra dropped the reins and swung his right leg over and dropped to the ground, but he gave a yelp of pain as his ankle gave way beneath him. Clutching at the stirrup leather he managed to stop himself falling, but it was almost impossible to put his foot to the floor. Leaning heavily against the side of the animal he unbuckled the girth and dragged the saddle off, barely managing to hang it on the top rail of the fence. Turning back he unfastened and removed the bridle and limped out, closing the gate behind him.

Pushing open the cabin door Ezra paused until his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He was too tired to even think about lighting a lamp; all his body craved was sleep and as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off he could feel his eyelids drooping.

With a soft groan he lay back, asleep almost before his head touched the pillow but it was not a restful slumber. All his self-doubts came back to haunt him and the very real fear that he had killed a man in cold blood made him restless and fretful. It was not going to be an easy night.

+ + + + + + +

As Vin led the two black geldings along the main street, he saw that the other peacekeepers - with the notable exception of Chris Larabee - were already assembled outside the jailhouse. Mary Travis was standing on the sidewalk talking to the Judge whose borrowed roan was tied to the hitching rail, and she looked up as he approached. He could see from her red-rimmed eyes and her anxious expression that she had not had an easy night, but he was more concerned by the gunslinger's absence.

"Y'seen Chris?" he asked Buck as he looped the reins of his friend's horse over the hitching rail.

"Nope, not since last night."

As Vin busied himself making final adjustments to his saddle the sound of hoof beats made them all look around as Clayton Kirkland rode up and came to a halt at the edge of the group.

"What you doing here?" Buck asked.

"I'm coming with you, of course. Do you think I'm going to sit around while my father's killer goes free?"

"No-one said Ezra's the killer," Vin put in, his tone determined.

"No?" Kirkland's voice rose slightly. "If he's so innocent then why did he run?"

None of the five peacekeepers had any answer to that; it was a thought that had occupied all their minds ever since the grim discovery the previous evening. Mary could see their awkwardness and she felt obliged to break the uneasy silence.

"Have you seen Catherine this morning?" she asked Clayton, stepping to the edge of the sidewalk. "How is she?"

"A little better, thank you. Mrs Coates from the Ladies Guild has kindly offered to stay with her." Clayton pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at the time. "Where the hell's Larabee?"

Vin bristled at the hostile comment as he swung into the saddle but Buck was the one to reply.

"Chris'll be here when he's ready."

A further five minutes elapsed and Vin found his gaze fixed in the direction of the boarding house. He had been worried about Chris all night but his anxiety was alleviated when he saw the gunslinger finally emerge from the building. He was steady enough as he walked towards them but his face bore an expression of intense concentration. Buck pushed himself away from the hitching rail as Chris drew level and he caught a brief glimpse of his face.

"Hey Chris - you look like hell!" was his not so subtle observation.

"Feel like it," the gunslinger agreed as he stopped beside his horse. Vin leaned across to his left and handed him the reins.

"Ya sure yer up for this, cowboy?" he asked, his voice pitched low so the others did not hear.

"Yeah. Let's go."

The Judge gave Mary a quick kiss on the cheek as he stepped off the sidewalk, unfastening the reins of his horse. Buck slapped the side of his grey, forcing the animal back so he had enough room to mount just as Chris Larabee slid to the ground, accompanied by a startled yell from Vin.

In spite of his assurances Vin could see that Chris was struggling and he watched as the gunslinger grasped the saddle, ready to pull himself up. It did not happen. The tracker saw his friend close his eyes as he slumped against the black.

"Chris?" he said softly, reaching out to grasp the gelding's bridle. The gunslinger's head dropped and he suddenly lost his grip, slowly slipping sideways to the dirt. "Chris!"

Vin's cry alerted the others as he dragged the spooked animal away from the fallen man. Buck was the first one to Chris' side, closely followed by Nathan and Mary.

"What the hell's wrong?" Buck asked as the healer turned him over onto his back.

"I don't know," Nathan replied, picking up a slack wrist. The gunslinger's pulse was racing, and as he laid his other hand on Chris' forehead he was alarmed by the heat he felt in his skin. Suddenly Vin was there, dropping to his knees beside them.

"Nathan?" There was concern in the tracker's voice as he spoke, and Nathan shook his head.

"I don't know," he repeated. "But he's burning up with fever!" He looked at Buck. "Let's get 'im up to the clinic."

"What's happening?" Kirkland sounded disgruntled as Buck and Josiah lifted Chris between them. "Does this mean we're not going now?"

"You're damn right, Kirkland," Buck threw over his shoulder, and the younger man knew there would be no arguing the point. Yanking his horse around he headed back to the Livery. As he rode away Mary touched Nathan lightly on the arm.

"The Judge said Chris didn't seem very well last night. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Don't rightly know 'til I've checked him over," the healer told her.

"Alright. Just let me know if you need anything." Mary was reluctant to stay away but she knew Nathan would need to work without too many distractions. As the healer followed Buck and Josiah towards the clinic, Vin hung back.

"Can ya see to the horses, JD?"

"Sure." The youngest peacekeeper started to gather up the reins as the Judge stepped forward.

"I'll give you a hand, young man," he said, relieving JD of some of the animals.

"I'm obliged." Vin touched his hat and then hurried after Nathan.

As Buck and Josiah placed Chris on the nearest bed Nathan drew up a chair and sat down. He started to unfasten the gunslinger's shirt but then he paused, conscious of the anxious men behind him.

"Vin, Buck, I need cold water. Lots of it." They hesitated, unwilling to leave and the healer looked up, waving his hand towards the door. "I need it now," he urged. "Josiah can give me a hand here." Once they had gone Josiah pulled Chris' boots off as Nathan finished unfastening his shirt.

"You don't really need that much water, do you?" the ex-preacher asked.

"Nope, but it gets them outta the way for a while," Nathan replied as he pulled his stethoscope from his medical bag. Putting it to his ears he placed the other end against Chris' chest, listening carefully as he moved it down and across.

Josiah stood quietly, watching the worried frown on the healer's face as he continued his examination. Finally Nathan put the stethoscope down and turned his attention to Chris' eyes, lifting each eyelid in turn.

"How is he?"

Nathan shook his head. "His lungs sound really congested, an' I know he's been coughin' a lot." He sighed. "Let's get these things off him and get him into bed."

Josiah propped him up and Nathan removed his jacket just as the gunslinger drew a shuddering breath. His eyelids started to flutter and he groaned softly as the ex-preacher eased him back down, and Nathan brought a bowl of water and a cloth over and placed it on the small table.

"Can you hear me, Chris?" he said softly, draping the cool damp cloth across his forehead. At the unexpected touch the hazel eyes flickered open and the gunslinger looked at the two men in bewilderment as he struggled to sit up.

"Whoa, easy there." Nathan's hand gripped his shoulder, forcing him to stay down. Chris swallowed hard, fighting back the sensation of nausea.

"What happened?" he asked. Nathan exchanged an anxious glance with Josiah before turning back to his patient.

"Don't ya remember?" Judging from the gunslinger's blank expression it was apparent that he didn't. "Ya collapsed just as we were getting ready to ride out," the healer explained.

"I'm fine now. Just lemme up." As Chris tried to force himself into a sitting position Nathan caught hold of his arms.

"Y'ain't going nowhere. Ya've got a fever an' I know ya been feeling sick. Vin told me - "

"Damn Vin Tanner!" Chris finally lost his temper completely, sounding a little breathless as he cursed the tracker for his unwanted prying. "I'm warning you Nathan - let me up! I don't need your potions or - " He stopped suddenly, trying to draw much needed air into his lungs but all he succeeded in doing was aggravating the rasping cough.

As the spasms continued Nathan slipped an arm around his shoulders, sitting him up to try and ease the discomfort. As the healer rubbed his back he could feel the change as the wracking cough became dry heaves and he could tell by the expression on Chris' face that the gunslinger was about to throw up.

"Josiah - bowl!" he snapped, and the big man rushed to obey. They were only just in time as the gunslinger's stomach rid itself of the remains of his last meal. Josiah held the bowl as Nathan kept a firm but gentle grip on the back of Chris' neck, keeping his head down until he was certain there was nothing more to bring up. He could feel him trembling with reaction now and as the ex-preacher took the bowl away Nathan reached for the damp cloth and wiped Chris' mouth and chin. His face was flushed and sweaty but his teeth were chattering with cold as a chill swept over his body.

"Josiah, can ya get me another blanket?" he requested, piling the pillows up behind Chris. Slipping a blanket across the gunslinger's shoulders he pulled it tight and tucked it around his arms as he settled him back against the pillows. Chris' eyes were closed in exhaustion and his breathing was harsh and laboured as Josiah placed several more covers over the shivering man.

"Is there anything else I can do?" he asked as Nathan perched himself on the edge of the bed, worried eyes watching his friend. Everything seemed to have happened so quickly and the healer was grateful for Josiah's reassuring presence.

"Yeah. I need a cup of water." When the ex-preacher placed the cup in his hand, Nathan touched Chris' shoulder lightly. "Come on, Chris. Drink this." He held the cup to his lips but the gunslinger turned his head away. "It's only water," the healer coaxed. "It'll help settle your stomach."

Chris opened his eyes a fraction and reluctantly took a few sips of the cool liquid, finding that it did indeed quell his rebellious stomach and helped to ease the scratchiness of his throat.

"That's it. Just ya rest for a while." Nathan waited until the gunslinger had slipped into a fitful doze, then he beckoned Josiah across to the far side of the room.

"You know what's wrong." The comment from Josiah was more a statement than a question, and Nathan's face was grim.

"I ain't sure, but I think its influenza."

"Dear Lord!"

Josiah crossed himself and glanced over at Chris. He had seen first hand the effects of just such an epidemic and he knew how quickly something like that could spread through a community. It travelled with the speed of a wildfire, making no distinction between young or old.

"Until I'm certain, we gotta keep everyone away." Nathan was thinking fast, aware that it might already be too late for himself and Josiah but wondering who else might have had prolonged contact with Chris. "Vin!" he suddenly said aloud.

"Vin?" Josiah sounded puzzled.

"Yeah. He's spent more time with Chris since he got back than anyone else," Nathan told him.

"So if it is influenza, he's likely to get sick too?"

"It's likely." The healer sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "We gotta keep this quiet 'til we know. There's no sense in panicking folks."

As he paused his keen ears caught the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and he realised that it was probably Buck and Vin returning with the buckets of water. It was ironic that having sent them on a fool's errand in the first place he now found himself in the possible position of having to place the clinic under quarantine. If that happened he would need all the fresh water he could get.

Leaving Josiah to watch the sleeping Chris Larabee, Nathan opened the door and stepped outside just as Vin reached the top of the stairs, Buck close behind him. Each man carried two pails of water and the tracker placed his down when he saw the look on Nathan's face.

"That's as far as ya go, boys," the healer told them, holding up a hand. "Just leave the buckets outside."

"What d'you mean 'as far as we go'?" Buck demanded, pushing past Vin and almost dropping his buckets, slopping a lot of the water over his boots in the process. "What's wrong with Chris?"

"I think it might be influenza." There was no point in beating about the bush; both men were aware how virulent the disease could be. Vin turned a little pale and cursed softly under his breath, but Buck was more pragmatic.

"Hell, you know Chris has had it before, and he came through it alright."

"Mebbe so, but ya know how contagious it is."

"D'you think I care?" Buck shrugged. "Besides, I didn't catch it before."

Nathan shook his head. "Ya might just have been lucky that time, but ya could still spread it. Can ya imagine what it'd do to a town this size? S'pose Mary or Billy caught it? D'ya wanna risk it?"

Buck hesitated as Vin stepped forward. "Nathan's right. We can't take that chance."

"Aw hell!" the ladies man swore. "So what can we do?"

"Keep it to yerselves for now, and try and keep people away from the clinic." The healer then turned his attention to Vin. "Ya've spent time with Chris since he got back - how do you feel? Any aches or pains, or headaches?"

Vin did not answer at first. He had just heard Nathan describing how contagious the disease could be but it had not occurred to him until that moment that he might be at risk.

"No, I'm fine," the Texan assured him eventually, unknowingly echoing Chris' own words.

"Alright, but if ya start to get sick ya come straight back, y'hear?"

Nathan watched as Buck and Vin turned and went down the stairs, reluctantly accepting his advice. Under the circumstances they had no choice. Squaring his shoulders the healer entered the clinic, knowing that the next few days were going to be extremely difficult.

+ + + + + + +

The sun had been climbing steadily across the sky for several hours when Ezra awoke, finally shaking off the cloying vestiges of sleep. For some time as he drifted in the twilight period between sleeping and waking the gambler had believed that he was back in his own room lying in his own comfortable feather bed, and that everything else was just a bad dream. However, when he felt the boards sticking in his back and the hard flatness of the pillow he remembered where he was and he knew that it was a waking nightmare.

His memory was still a little vague and the events of the previous night seemed just as hazy and unreal now as they had been then; he could recall stealing a horse and his wild flight from town but the image of Henry Kirkland dying at his feet was the strongest of them all. He knew he had been angry - the thought of being drugged and cheated infuriated him - but had he been furious enough to kill someone? There was no denying that the gun had been in his hand and that his finger had squeezed the trigger. Ezra had felt the kick of the weapon against his palm and had heard the shot quite clearly, but could he really have been so callous? The gambler did not know and that was why he had run.

Once again self-doubt reared its ugly head and stared him straight in the face, forcing him to reassess his standing in Four Corners. The gambler thought his life had changed for the better since he became a peacekeeper; up until then he had drifted from town to town, always searching for the next 'get rich quick' scheme, but never quite ready to settle in one place for long. Although he had never envisaged himself drawing a wage for an honest days work he had grown comfortable with the friendship that surrounded the Seven, and the loyalty and trust more than compensated for the meagre salary.

Some time ago he had expressed to Josiah his belief that people never really quite trusted him; he had endured the sidelong looks that seemed to hint at a lack of honesty and integrity on his part but he thought he had reached beyond that point. After all this time Ezra thought his friends knew him better than that but how could he convince them if he was not sure himself? His instinct was still to run and put as much distance between himself and Four Corners as he possibly could.

Despite the urgency to move on there were still some basic needs that he had to deal with first. Thirst was his main problem; his mouth felt as dry and dusty as the inside of a barn and he had a raging headache but he also needed provisions if he was to ride on. Reluctantly he pushed himself up, wincing as a sudden twinge of pain shot through his right ankle. Swinging his legs off the bed he tried to stand up but he gave a sharp cry and sat down hard as his ankle refused to support his weight.

Looking down Ezra gasped as he realised that his foot appeared twice its normal size, obviously the result of removing his boots the previous night. His ankle, damaged in the fall from the hotel balcony, had swollen up and stiffened to the point where he could no longer stand on it. He tried once more to get up but it was simply too painful to walk on. The Southerner swore softly under his breath, cursing himself for his fastidiousness. If he had not taken off his boots he would probably still be able to get around. As it stood, he was now a virtual prisoner in the cabin until the swelling had gone down sufficiently for him to be able to ride again.

Ezra began to wonder whether he had broken any bones and as he gingerly leaned down to check he could feel something bulky in his inside breast pocket. Sitting up straighter he reached inside his jacket and slowly drew out the bundle of notes, whistling softly as he stared in disbelief at the dollar bills. Rifling it through his fingers he guessed there had to be about two hundred dollars there, probably the same amount he had lost to Henry Kirkland in the original game. Patting his other pocket he could feel the roll of five-dollar bills that he knew belonged to him and he realised that the charge of robbery could now be added to that of murder.

Dropping the bundle of notes on the bed Ezra ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. The situation had just gone from bad to worse and his idea of searching for coffee had given way to the desire for something stronger. Pushing himself up, he leaned against the wall and made his way around towards the cupboard beside the stove. Wrenching open the door the gambler peered in, disappointed to find just a can of peaches, a small sack of flour, and a bag of salt.

Looking around Ezra spotted the low chest at the foot of the bed. Stumbling back he dropped onto the mattress and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled amongst the blankets and spare black shirt, was a bottle of whiskey.

"Thank you, Mr Larabee. I knew you wouldn't let me down," he murmured appreciatively as he drew the bottle out, twisting off the lid before taking a long swallow. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a few moments, contemplating his next move.

Maybe he had been a fool for stopping here, but it had not been a conscious decision on his part. He had ridden blindly until he had recognised the terrain and necessity had forced him to a halt, but it could only be a matter of time before someone - most probably Chris himself - turned up at the cabin. Ezra knew that the minute he could get his boot on he would be gone. He just hoped it would not be too long.

+ + + + + + +

Vin's gaze was firmly fixed on a point between his black gelding's ears as he rode a little way ahead of the posse.

Following the dramatic turn of events in Four Corners it had been Nathan who suggested that their time and efforts would be better spent looking for Ezra. Although they had been extremely reluctant to leave at first they had had to admit that he was right. There was nothing they could do for Chris, but they could at least try to help the gambler.

It was almost midday and they had been riding for little more than an hour and the tracker had grown bone-weary of Clayton Kirkland's continuous griping. Whilst he could sympathise with the fact that the man's father had been brutally murdered, there was no excuse for his malicious comments about the delay caused by Chris Larabee's unexpected collapse. That, and Kirkland's insistence that Ezra was as guilty as sin, had forced him to urge the black forward so he no longer had to listen to the diatribe.

The Texan found Kirkland's remarks more irritating than annoying and again he found himself wishing that the man had stayed behind in town. But his overwhelming concern was for his two friends, for very different reasons. Chris, of course, was a major worry; Vin had known the gunslinger had been unwell from the moment he got back but he had not realised just how serious the illness was until this morning. Even he had been taken by surprise and Nathan's initial diagnosis of influenza had scared him more than he cared to admit. At the back of his mind was the very real fear that he would catch it as well, but he tried to push that aside and concentrate on the task at hand.

In all honesty Vin had no clear idea where to start looking. Ezra could have run in any direction and with no definite tracks to follow they were virtually groping in the dark. Before they had left Four Corners Judge Travis had wired those towns closest to them just in case the gambler had been spotted but Vin thought that was unlikely. His gut feeling said that Ezra was probably heading towards Mexico. He knew what it was like to be hunted, how relentless the pursuit could be, and rational thought suddenly became panicked flight in the heat of the moment. The fact that the Southerner had stolen a horse showed how desperate he was. Under those circumstances Vin was not sure how Ezra would react if the posse cornered him.

The drumming of hooves behind him snapped his attention back to the moment and he glanced across as Buck eased his grey alongside. It was obvious from the way the ladies man sat in his saddle that something was amiss.

"So help me, if I hear one more word from that spoilt, loud-mouthed, sonofabitch... " Buck paused, trying to hold his temper in check. "I swear I'll knock him on his sorry butt!"

"Got to ya too, eh?"

"A mite." Buck shook his head. He was not about to tell the Texan that Kirkland had cast doubts about Vin's commitment in searching for the gambler. He was aware of the younger man's conviction; despite the evidence Vin still believed that Ezra was innocent and he only wished he could be so sure but all he could see was the cold hard proof. Buck glanced over his shoulder at the other three men. "I came to tell you the Judge thinks it'd be a good idea if we split up. We can cover more ground that way."

Vin did not answer him straight away. He continued to stare off into the distance, a frown on his face and he jumped as Buck tapped him lightly on the arm.

"Hey, Vin - you okay?"

The tracker blinked and looked at him, wiping a sleeve across his sweaty brow. "Yeah, fine." He could feel the tension building up behind his eyes and he squinted against the glare of the sun as he replied to Buck's inquiry. "Reckon that'd be for the best."

"Alright. I'll take the Judge with me." Vin threw his friend a quick glance and a wry smile tugged at his mouth as he realised he had been saddled with Kirkland.

"That's real generous of ya," the tracker said, but Buck just grinned at him.

"Don't mention it."

Frivolity aside, Buck was an anxious man as he watched the Texan ride away, JD and Clayton Kirkland at his side. He had seen how distracted Vin was, and Nathan's words of warning came back to haunt him. Already concerned about Chris, was he now going to have the additional worry about the tracker's state of health? Only time would tell.

+ + + + + + +

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day Nathan Jackson wrung out the cloth in the large bowl of cold water and applied it to the flushed brow of Chris Larabee. Despite his ministrations the gunslinger's temperature had continued to rise and the sharp hacking cough had worsened considerably. From what he had ascertained from the sick man Chris had been feeling unwell for a few days, even before he had returned to Four Corners, but he had merely put it down to tiredness. Nathan had also discovered that this morning's bout of vomiting had not been the first. The gunslinger had confessed that he had also thrown up in the early hours of the morning and as a result had enjoyed precious little sleep.

Nathan had managed to coax the gunslinger into swallowing a mild sedative in the hope he would get some much-needed rest, and Chris now lay propped up by numerous pillows, his eyes closed in an uneasy doze. Josiah had gone back to the church a short while ago to collect a few personal items and the small store of provisions he kept there. As the healer had pointed out, it was merely a precaution in case they needed to quarantine themselves in the clinic. Now the only sound to be heard in the clinic was Chris' almost painful breathing as he struggled to force air into his congested lungs. The sudden knock on the door made him jump and he heard the gunslinger give a low groan as he stirred slightly.

"Easy, Chris," he murmured softly, getting slowly to his feet. "Go back to sleep."

The sick man's eyelids flickered once and then he sighed as he relaxed once more against the pillows. Guessing that it was Josiah returning, Nathan crossed over to the door and was surprised to find Buck standing on the threshold.

"When d'you get back?"

The other cast a quick glance over the healer's shoulder before he answered. "About ten minutes ago. How's Chris doing?"

Nathan sighed and ran a hand across his short hair. "Not good. His fever's got worse and the shortness of breath is worrying me."

The ladies man craned his head towards his stricken friend, his face pinched with anxiety. "But you still think its influenza?"

"I'm still not sure. I - " He broke off as the sound of agonised coughing came from the figure in the bed and the healer turned quickly back into the room and Buck, oblivious of Nathan's previous warnings, was right at his heels.

Chris was hunched over on his left side, his hand tightly pressed against his chest as the violent spasms shook his lean frame. Fearing the gunslinger was about to be sick again Nathan grabbed a bowl and thrust it under his mouth. As he did so Chris started to retch, bringing up most of the sleeping draught the healer had so diligently administered, along with a long, sticky stream of saliva.

"Oh, dear Lord!" Nathan breathed, as he peered closely into the soiled bowl.

"What is it?" Buck replied, his eyes wide with fear.

The healer did not answer but held it out for the ladies man to see and Buck gasped as he looked at the contents. There was a thick milky white substance lying at the bottom but what really scared Buck was the fact that it was liberally sprinkled with flecks of blood. He swallowed hard and glanced up into Nathan's grim face.

"This isn't influenza, is it? Chris was never this bad before."

His friend shook his head and carefully placed the bowl to one side. "Come on, Chris. Let's get ya settled again."

With Buck's help, Nathan gently pushed the sick man against the piled up pillows, and used a clean cloth to wipe his face and mouth. The gunslinger was totally exhausted after this new attack and it was clear from his strained features that he was also in some pain. He lay back breathing hard and his eyes were closed as his hand clutched at his chest. As Nathan drew the blankets up to his chin he noticed that the flushed face was now tinged with blue.

"We'll leave him to rest a while."

Buck nodded mutely, still shocked at the sight of his friend's condition and followed Nathan over to the far side of the room. The ladies man sank down on a chair, his hand shaking slightly as he ran it through his hair, while the healer washed his own hands in a bowl of fresh water.

"What do you think is wrong with him, Nathan?"

The tall man sighed and reached for a towel. "Looks like pneumonia to me."

"Pneumonia!" Buck exclaimed. "How the hell did he catch that?"

"Don't rightly know," the other admitted. "According to what I've read it comes on real sudden and there's often severe pain in the chest along with the coughing up of blood."

"Is it contagious?"

Nathan shook his head and perched himself on the side of a chest. "At least I won't have Vin and the rest of the townsfolk to worry about."

Any sense of relief Buck might have felt quickly vanished when he cast another anxious glance at Chris. "You sure about that? Only, when we were out on the trail, Vin didn't seem himself. I think he might be coming down with something as well."

Nathan raised an eyebrow in surprise. "He seemed fine when he came by earlier. Mind you, he didn't stay long. Said he had summat to do."

The ladies man frowned wondering what the hell the young tracker thought was more important than the health of his friend. He was just about to say the same to Nathan when he heard the sound of restless movement from the other side of the room. Buck was on his feet before Nathan and stepped over to the bed, a wide grin on his face as he saw Chris' eyes flicker open.

"Hey, Stud, how y'doing?" he began, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. The gunslinger looked awful but he managed to summon up a wan smile.

"F... felt... better," he wheezed.

"You'll do anything for a few days in bed," Buck replied lightly, horribly aware how false his voice sounded. "Make us do all the work."

Chris gave a hoarse laugh and his friend tensed when he coughed slightly but the gunslinger quickly recovered his breath this time and shifted himself into a more comfortable position. Buck saw the grimace of pain on his face as he did so but swiftly hid his concern.

"You find Ezra?" Nathan had told Chris that the others had gone out looking for the gambler and despite his illness the gunslinger was still anxious to learn of the other man's whereabouts.

"Not yet," Buck answered. "But we will, don't worry."

Chris nodded and shut his eyes briefly, fighting against sleep before he spoke again. "Do you think he did it, Buck?"

The ladies man hesitated, reluctant to say what he really thought. "I don't know, but it sure looks that way."

His friend sighed wearily and lay back, his heavy eyes closing. Buck started to rise thinking the other had drifted off to sleep, but as he stood up Chris stirred again. "Where's Vin?"

Buck felt a twinge of annoyance run through him at the mention of the tracker's name but he was careful not to let his irritation show. "He'll be along later. You just rest and concentrate on getting better."

Chris' head sank back, asleep almost immediately and Buck turned to find Nathan just behind him. Seeing his troubled face, the healer reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance.

"I'll do what I can for him, Buck,"

The ladies man nodded, knowing the other would be true to his word. The question was - would it be enough?

Vin's mood was getting as dark as an approaching storm, and it had not been helped by Clayton Kirkland's continued grumbling.

He and JD had returned to Four Corners about an hour ago, having left Kirkland to make his own way back. Despite the overwhelming urge to leave him completely alone the tracker had doubled back to make certain that the Easterner was following them. He could still see the indecision on JD's face when he had announced his intention of heading back to town. Kirkland had demanded that they continue the search even though their efforts were proving fruitless but the Texan was anxious to find out how Chris was and to see whether the Judge's telegraphs had yielded any results.

After several minutes of Kirkland trying to browbeat him into going on Vin had simply turned his horse around and ridden off, leaving a perplexed JD wondering what to do for the best. In the end he had followed the tracker leaving Clayton no choice but to trail along some distance behind.

Once Vin had seen to his mount he had left the Livery and made a brief stop at the clinic but Nathan still would not let him in. However, the healer had seemed relieved that the young Texan did not seem to be showing any sign of illness. As he came back down the steps Vin had seen Kirkland leading his horse into the stable but he did not wait around for yet another confrontation. He had more pressing matters to deal with.

When Vin got to the hotel Herbert Harris was more than happy to hand over the keys to the suite. At the request of Chris Larabee the previous night he had kept the room locked until the peacekeepers had concluded their investigations, only venturing in with Mary and Catherine Kirkland to help move the woman's personal belongings to another room.

The tracker let himself in and locked the door behind him as he looked around. He was not quite sure why he had gone back there, other than the fact that he did not seem to think that things were as clear-cut as everyone else thought they were. His faith in Ezra had already antagonised Buck to a certain degree and he was hoping to find proof of his friend's innocence.

Although nothing had been disturbed the room looked different with the afternoon sun streaming through the front windows and casting deep shadows in the corners. Stepping across to the window that had been open the night before, Vin pulled the curtain aside and pushed it up. When Henry Kirkland's body was discovered there had been insufficient light to see anything on the balcony even though he had thought it was the most likely escape route for the killer but in the daylight he could make a more thorough check.

Climbing out, the tracker carefully studied the entire length of the balcony but he could see nothing out of place. Looking up he disregarded the roof as an avenue of escape. The eaves were too high to get a grip on and the shingles too steep to offer a purchase. This left the drop off the balcony as the only other option. Moving over to the front edge Vin looked down; just below he could see the edge of the boardwalk and even at night anyone climbing down from there would be too visible. However, when the Texan glanced to his right he could see that the end of the balcony was just overhanging the alleyway that ran down beside the hotel. At night it would be shrouded in darkness where the killer - he still refused to think Ezra - could leave undetected.

Stepping up to the rail, Vin leaned on it and looked over but he pulled his left hand back as something sharp dug into his finger. Peering a little closer he could see that a nail securing one of the uprights was protruding from the wood and his keen eyes saw a slight flutter of movement in the breeze. Carefully removing the thin strip of material from where it was snagged, the tracker felt a sense of dismay when he realised that the colour exactly matched the red jacket he had seen Ezra wearing in the saloon the previous night. Whichever way he looked at it, and however much he wanted to deny it, this scrap of cloth placed his friend firmly at the scene of the crime. Before he could do anything else he heard a loud hammering on the hotel door and Buck's voice calling out to him.

"Vin - you in there?"

The Texan swore and stuffed the piece of material into his pocket before clambering back into the room. He unlocked the door, stepping back as the ladies man walked in.

"How'd ya know I was here?"

"Saw JD."

"Oh." On the way back to town Vin had mentioned to the young peacekeeper that he wanted to have another look at the hotel room before Clayton Kirkland could clear his father's belongings out.

Buck strolled across the room, casually picking up a glass from the table. "So - d'you find anything?" With his back turned Buck did not see the hesitation on Vin's face.

"Nope." Unconsciously the tracker's hand went to his pocket, fingers curling around the telling piece of red material. He did not know why he had just deliberately lied to Buck but, knowing the other's opinions about Ezra's guilt, there seemed little point in adding a further piece of damning evidence to the odds already stacked against the gambler.

"Uh-huh." Buck looked round at the Texan. "So you reckon we're just wasting our time here?"

"We need to find Ezra. We gotta hear his side of the story."

"Is that right?" It was almost a statement from the ladies man, but to Vin's ears the sarcasm was very evident. "How we gonna do that when he's disappeared without a trace?"

The tracker sighed and rubbed at his forehead. Finding the gambler was going to be the easy part. Proving him innocent would take a lot more skill and patience. Buck saw the Texan's weary gesture and wondered whether his earlier instinct was correct.

"You feel all right?" he asked.

"Fine. Why?" Vin frowned at Buck's question.

"Just wondered. Y'know Nathan don't think Chris's got influenza?" The ladies man gave him a measured look. "Not that you stopped long enough to find out."

"What's that supposed t'mean?"

Buck shrugged. "Nothing. Just seems to me you got more important things to do."

"Not more important." Vin's tone was frosty; he knew what Buck was implying but he put it down to the man's worry over Chris. The tracker's own thoughts were never far from the ailing gunslinger and his anxiety was almost a physical ache but he was trying to concentrate on something that was within his power to change. "Jus' summat that needs to be done."

"I see." Buck studied the Texan for a moment, seeing the determined look on his face. "I'm going to the saloon. I need to wash down some of this trail dust. You coming?"

"Mebbe later."

Vin waited until Buck had left, then he pulled the scrap of material from his pocket and looked at it in despair.

"Aw dammit, Ezra. What the hell have you done?"

+ + + + + + +

The funeral of Henry Kirkland took place the following morning. The mourners were led by Catherine and Clayton but a number of influential townspeople accompanied the Judge and Mary Travis to the cemetery. Josiah presided over the simple service and, with the exception of Chris and Nathan, the remainder of the peacekeepers were in attendance as a mark of respect.

Vin Tanner stood a little apart from those gathered at the graveside, his head bowed and hat in hand. Josiah's words lost all clarity as his thoughts turned back to the previous evening when he had returned to the clinic. Buck's words in the hotel suite had struck a chord; his inquiry at the clinic had been all too fleeting and he was determined to rectify that. However, he had not been prepared for how sick Chris had become in such a short space of time.

Nathan had taken the opportunity to doze in his rocker while Vin had sat at the gunslinger's bedside. He had just finished his coffee when Chris started to stir and slowly opened his eyes...

'Hey, cowboy! How y'feeling?' Vin forced a grin to his lips as he leaned closer.

'Like I've been tromped on by a herd of buffalo!' Chris' voice was weak but the sentiment was fervent. The lamplight glinted off his sweat-streaked brow and his eyes were fever-bright as he regarded his friend. 'Buck says you haven't found Ezra yet?' His words were strained, as though each syllable was an effort and the tracker could hear the shortness of his breath.

'No - but I don't reckon he's gone far.' Vin had examined the piece of red material in more detail once he had gone back to his wagon and his keen eyes had picked out the tell-tale rusty brown streaks of dried blood soaked into the threads. If Ezra had been injured then it was likely that he was close by.

'Good.' Chris' voice trailed off as his eyelids drooped, and for a minute Vin thought he had fallen asleep but then his eyes flew open and he grabbed at the tracker's arm in a sudden panic. 'Vin - where's Sarah and Adam? Why won't he let me see them?' he asked frantically, and the words were like a slap in the face to the Texan.

Vin sat back in the chair, stunned by the gunslinger's question. Nathan had given him no warning that Chris might become confused; he had never even known the gunslinger's wife or child so how could he tell him that they had perished in a fire more than three years ago?

'Vin!' The distress in Chris' voice cut through the tracker like a knife and he glanced despairingly towards the healer but Nathan was still softly snoring. The gunslinger started to push himself up but Vin caught him by the shoulders and firmly pushed him back down.

'Take it easy,' he urged, hoping that Chris couldn't hear the quiver in his own voice as he searched desperately for an answer. 'Nathan didn't want 'em to get sick, too. Ya don't want that, d'ya?' Vin turned the question around, hoping that his answer would be enough to satisfy the distraught man and praying that Chris could not see his own fear. The gunslinger paused in his struggles and regarded his friend intently.

'Will you go see them for me?' The words were soft and low and the underlying hint of pleading almost tore the Texan apart.

'I promise, Chris.' Vin dropped his right hand on the other's arm and squeezed gently. Despite his own trepidation the tracker knew that nothing less than a solemn pledge would appease Chris Larabee in his present state. The gunslinger nodded mutely, his own right hand coming across to cover the Texan's in silent acknowledgement.

When Nathan awoke twenty minutes later Vin was still sitting in the chair, staring at the sleeping gunslinger. The healer yawned and stretched before speaking.

'Everything alright?' he asked. The tracker did not answer, his gaze not wavering from Chris. 'Vin?' Nathan was concerned by his silence and he got up and walked across the room, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder. The Texan jumped and looked up. his face white and strained. 'What's wrong?' He could see Vin's hands trembling, and it took a few more minutes before the Texan could tell him...

Vin was dragged back to the present as he realised the service was finally over and people were beginning to leave. He jammed his hat back on his head and turned to walk away but Clayton Kirkland was suddenly beside him, his face like thunder.

"That damn gambler's gonna pay for this!" the young man swore. "I'll see him hang if it's the last thing I do!"

Vin hesitated for a moment, biting back the retort that sprang to his lips. He was in no mood to deal with Clayton's histrionics; he had stayed at the clinic for several hours the previous evening, helping Nathan as he tried to bring down the gunslinger's temperature and he had had precious little sleep himself. Instead he simply walked away.

"Hey, Tanner - I'm talking to you!"

The tracker just ignored him and before Kirkland could make any more of it a large hand gripped his shoulder, fingers digging firmly into his flesh.

"Now's not the time nor place, son," Josiah said softly. "Spare a thought for her feelings."

Clayton looked up and past the ex-preacher. Standing silently at the graveside, Judge Travis had Catherine on one arm and Mary on the other. Catherine's face was hidden by the filmy black veil she wore but as Kirkland watched she tossed a single red rose into the open grave. Shaking off Josiah's hand the young man stalked away, angry footsteps carrying him towards the saloon where the wake was being held.

Vin was neither aware nor cared about Josiah's intervention. Kirkland's comments had only served to reinforce an idea that had been forming in his mind. The peacekeepers had already said that they would make a further search later that day sometime after the funeral, but Vin had decided that he would head out alone now.

He stopped by his wagon to wrap a few items in his bedroll and then picked up some supplies from the General Store before heading in the direction of the Livery. As he drew level with the stairs that led up to Nathan's clinic, Vin realised he could not leave town without checking on Chris once more. His experience the previous night had shaken him considerably; the extent of Chris' confusion had been extremely disturbing and he suspected that even Nathan had not known just how bad it would be.

Just as he reached the door he could hear the murmur of voices and then he recognised Chris' raised in anger. Stepping inside he could see Nathan struggling with the gunslinger; a cup lay on the floor, spilling its contents across the boards as the healer gripped the older man's shoulders. Nathan looked up, relief plain on his face as he saw help was at hand.

"Vin! Thank the Lord! Get over here!"

The tracker kicked the door shut behind him and dropped his bedroll and sack of supplies on the floor as he hurried to Chris' bedside.

"Leave me alone!" Chris' voice was hoarse and breathless as he yelled at Nathan, and his sweat streaked face was contorted with rage as he fought to get free. The healer was having a hard time of it until Vin sat on the edge of the bed and flung his own arms around Chris.

"Can ya hold him still for a minute?" Nathan asked. "I need to get another cup."

"Yeah. Just hurry!" Vin kept a tight hold around the gunslinger's shoulders, feeling the perspiration soaking into his own shirt as he pulled him back against his chest. "It's gonna be alright, Chris." he murmured in his friend's ear. "Nathan's gonna fix ya up real good."

"Bastards!" There was no indication that the gunslinger had even heard his words, and Vin kept a firm hold on the man's sweat-slick body as he tried to pull himself out of the Texan's grasp. "I want my wife! Sarah! Adam!" He repeated the names over and over again until he started coughing.

"Nathan!" There was panic in Vin's voice as the dry heaves wracked the gunslinger. He could feel Chris' muscles tensing with pain as he struggled to draw breath, and blood-streaked bile flecked his lips. "Nathan!"

"I'm done." The healer spooned some honey into a cup and topped it up from a pan on the stove before sitting back down on the opposite side of the bed. The infusion of cowslip root and aniseed would soothe the cough and help the man relax if only he could get it down him. He wiped the gunslinger's mouth with a damp cloth before placing the cup to his lips. "C'mon, Chris. Ya gotta drink this."

"No!" Once again he tried to knock the cup from Nathan's hand, but Vin held the gunslinger's arms down as the healer pinched the bridge of Chris' nose and forced him to open his mouth. He got the first spluttering mouthful down him, pushing his jaws closed until he swallowed, but as he repeated the process Chris spat it out, wheezing and gasping.

"Swallow, dammit!" Nathan cursed as he shook the sticky liquid from his hand, tipping the cup up again.

"Yer gonna choke him!" The tracker was alarmed now as Chris' breathing became more laboured.

"I gotta do it, Vin." Nathan hated having to be so brutal, but he had no other option. "I don't wanna try it a second time."

Finally the cup was empty; there was almost as much soaked into the bedclothes as Chris had actually swallowed but he was quieter now as the coughing finally ceased and Vin could feel him relaxing as he rubbed gently at the back of the gunslinger's neck, trying to relieve the tension. Nathan retrieved the cup from the floor and went to wash his hands but Vin kept his arms around Chris, listening as his breathing eased, his fingers rubbing soothingly across his shoulders.

"Ya can let go. He'll be alright now."

Vin looked up as Nathan removed the soiled blanket and placed a clean one over Chris, and he slipped his arm out and let the other man rest back against the pile of pillows, seeing the hazel eyes close with exhaustion. The healer sat down beside the bed and placed his fingers over Chris' wrist, frowning in concentration as he checked his pulse.

"I'm glad ya came along when ya did," he told the tracker, and Vin pushed his hat back and ran his hand wearily through his hair.

"Jeez Nathan - what the hell happened? I thought he was getting better." When Vin had left the clinic in the early hours of the morning Chris had been resting comfortably. Between them they had managed to get his temperature down a little and even his cough seemed to have lessened, and the Texan had felt a touch happier when he finally got to his own bed to snatch a few hours sleep.

"The fever got worse this morning," Nathan told him. "It got so bad he didn't know where he was or even who I was!"

"Aw hell! At least last night he knew who we were." The tracker studied his friend's face intently, seeing the lines of strain that creased his brow even in sleep. "Why's he still calling for his family?"

Nathan sighed as he placed a damp cloth across Chris' forehead. "I reckon his mind's gone back to when he was sick before."

"Ya mean when him and Sarah were first married?" Vin remembered Buck telling him about the time Chris had gone down with influenza, and how difficult a patient he had been even then.

"Yeah! I guess that's why he wants to see that boy o'his." There was sorrow in the healer's voice and Vin opened his mouth to speak but then hesitated, bringing a curious look from Nathan. "What?" he demanded.

"Adam were'nt born then," he replied softly.

Nathan did not know what to say to that. He pulled the blanket up to Chris' chin and got up, "Was gonna make some coffee. Want some?"

Vin nodded, still staring at the gunslinger. Even though it had been a long time ago he could still just remember sitting by his mother's bedside as her life slipped away; he had never seen Chris like this before and it was a scary feeling to sit by helplessly. Nathan knew the young tracker was shaken but there was nothing he could say to make the situation easier. As he busied himself at the stove his gaze fell upon the discarded and forgotten bedroll and sack of supplies by the door.

"You figgerin' on heading out?" he said as he thrust a cup of strong black coffee into the Texan's hand. Vin looked up startled, following the healer's gaze and he took a deep breath.

"Was gonna look fer Ezra but now... " His voice trailed off and he took a sip of the scalding brew.

"There's nothing ya can do here." Nathan could understand his hesitation but he was also a practical man. "I'll do what I can fer Chris, but Ezra needs yer help."

Vin knew he was right although it did not make it any easier. Draining his cup he climbed reluctantly to his feet and put his hat back on.

"Reckon I'd best be going," he said slowly.

"Where ya figgerin' on looking?"

"Got a few ideas." Vin picked up his belongings and then paused, his hand on the doorknob. He gave the sleeping gunslinger a long, lingering look. "Take care o'him fer me," he told Nathan, his words catching in his throat.

PART 2

Nathan was a worried man as he headed towards the telegraph office. Shortly after Vin had left the clinic Chris had become restless again and to the healer's dismay had brought up all the medicine that had been forced down his throat. Nathan had been grateful for Josiah's timely arrival - the ex-preacher had been looking for Vin - and between them they had managed to get Chris cleaned up and put fresh sheets on the bed. Leaving Josiah to watch over the thoroughly exhausted gunslinger, Nathan took the opportunity to get some fresh air and to make a few discreet enquiries.

"Nathan!" The healer looked round at the sound of his name and Buck hurried across the street to catch up with him. "How's Chris?"

"Wish I could say there's some improvement," Nathan told him grimly, and Buck cursed softly under his breath.

"But it isn't influenza, right?"

"No an' I don't think its pneumonia either."

Buck felt his stomach tighten with fear and he caught the healer's arm, pulling him round to face him. "What d'you mean?"

"It ain't like any kind of pneumonia I've read about." There was bitter frustration in the healer's voice, and the implications scared Buck.

"So what can you do?"

"Chris might have picked something up on his last trip. I'm gonna wire the doctor in Diablo Falls and see if he's had any similar cases."

Buck nodded. "Alright. Let me know what you find out." As he started to walk away he suddenly paused as another question sprang to mind. "Hey, Nathan - seen anything of Vin? We're supposed to be going out to look for Ezra again."

The healer looked at him curiously. "Vin? But he's already gone."

"Gone? When?"

"Coupla hours ago. Didn't he tell ya?"

Buck swore heatedly. "What the hell's wrong with that boy?" he muttered savagely. Ever since Kirkland's murder Vin had been acting out of character, stubbornly refusing to believe the strong possibility that Ezra was involved and snapping at anyone who even dared to voice a suspicion.

"Buck?" Nathan had never seen the ladies man look so angry and he began to wonder just what had been going on between the two peacekeepers. "What d'ya mean?"

"Nothing." Buck visibly shook himself. "You just get that message sent. I'll worry about Vin."

+ + + + + + +

As Vin approached the cabin, he could see that his intuition had been correct. When he had told Nathan that he had a few ideas, he really only had one place in mind. The thought had briefly crossed his mind the previous day but he had been damned if he was going to lead the vengeful Clayton Kirkland to that location, and possibly place his friend's life in danger. Later, when he had found the scrap of material and seen the blood soaked into it, he was further convinced that Ezra would not go too far and Chris' cabin seemed to be the safest bet.

His black gelding whickered a challenge to the unfamiliar bay standing in the far corner of the corral and as the tracker brought his mount to a halt beside the enclosure he heard a thud from inside the house itself. Slipping from the saddle he fastened the reins to the top rail but as he turned he heard the crash of breaking glass and the muzzle of a revolver poked out through the shattered remains of the small window by the front door.

"I would advise you to remain where you are!"

The slightly slurred voice was unmistakeably that of the gambler and Vin took his hand away from the butt of his gun as he started to walk forward. A shot suddenly rang out startling both horses, and the bullet kicked up dirt inches from Vin's left foot but the tracker neither flinched nor stopped.

"Dammit, Ezra! It's me," he called, slowing his pace a little as he stepped onto the front porch.

"I know who it is. Just stop right there."

"Ain't gonna happen," the Texan muttered as his hand closed on the latch and he thrust the door open quickly and stepped inside. Ezra was to his right, leaning against the wall beside the door and his Derringer was trained unerringly on Vin's midriff.

"I could have shot you," the Southerner said, green eyes haunted as he stared at Vin.

"No ya couldn't," the tracker replied as he reached out and took the gun from Ezra's trembling hand. "Y'ain't no killer."

With a low moan that was almost a sob, the gambler slid down until he was sitting on the floor and his shoulders slumped with relief. Placing the gun on the table beside a half empty bottle of tequila Vin looked around. Another empty bottle lay on the floor next to the bed and he could see from the state of the bedding that Ezra had had a bad night. Finally he turned and looked down at the gambler himself. The Southerner was still sitting on the floor, his head back against the wall as he regarded the tracker through half-closed eyes.

"Ya sure got yourself in a whole heap of trouble, Ezra," the Texan said as he pulled a chair away from the table and sat down. The gambler stared at him blearily and gave a mocking laugh.

"You have a rare talent for understatement, my friend," he said as he lurched to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as he limped over to the bed and almost collapsed on it. Vin frowned; he had never seen the normally immaculate gambler looking so dishevelled and rumpled and he could not fail to notice the way he was favouring his right foot.

"What's wrong wit' yer ankle?"

"An unfortunate accident. I.... slipped."

"From the hotel balcony." Ezra started guiltily at Vin's comment and he leaned back as he studied the Texan's face, looking for any sign of condemnation.

"So you think I killed Henry Kirkland. Have you come to take me in?" There was an air of resignation in his voice but Vin shook his head.

"I came to find out the truth," he stated. "Did ya kill him?"

Ezra hesitated for a moment and lowered his eyes as he picked at the blanket beneath him. Finally he looked up and his gaze was steady as he regarded the Texan. "You may find this hard to believe, but I really can't remember what happened."

Of all the replies Vin had been prepared for - including outright denial - this was the last one he had expected. How could he hope to find the truth and prove Ezra innocent if the gambler himself did not know?

"Ya know running made y'look guilty?"

"Trust me - I didn't think I had a choice."

Vin did not answer; he knew only too well that feeling, how easy it was to simply turn your back and run and he could sympathise with the gambler's actions. However, he did not want Ezra to have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, wondering whether the next stranger he met would be the one looking to collect the reward. That was not living - it was existing.

"I reckon it'd be best if we went back," Vin said, but the Southerner just stared at him in amazement.

"Are you serious? Judge Travis will probably be waiting with the rope in his hand!"

"Ain't gonna let that happen."

"I see. Do our esteemed colleagues share your beliefs? Does Mr Larabee think I'm innocent as well?" Ezra was not so self-absorbed that he did not notice the shadow that passed across the tracker's face at his words, clouding his blue eyes. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Vin made no reply but he pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the window, resting his hand against the frame as he stared out. Ezra sat up straighter on the bed, sensing that the Texan's thoughts were elsewhere, and he suddenly began to wonder why Vin had arrived at the cabin alone.

"Something has happened! Is it Chris?" The tracker did not move, and Ezra stumbled to his feet. "Vin!" This time the younger man turned, and now that he looked closely the gambler could see the strain and worry etched on his face.

"He's sick, Ezra, real sick, and Nathan don't know what it is."

"Sick?" The gambler sounded surprised, and his eyes narrowed a fraction. "This wouldn't be some subtle ruse to entice me back to town, would it?" Even as he asked the question the Southerner knew that it wasn't. The expression on Vin's face and the despair in his voice told him more than mere words could. "No, I can see that it isn't." he stated softly. "Is it really that serious?"

"Yeah, it is." Vin sighed and glanced out of the window again. "It's getting late," he said, pushing his distraction aside for the moment. Although he was desperate to get back to Four Corners he was still being practical about the current situation. "Be best if we head back in the morning. Get the stove going while I see to my horse. Then we'll think about some food." He nodded towards the empty whiskey bottle on the floor. "Reckon ya'll want somethin' more than liquor in yer belly."

He was out of the door before the gambler could say anything else.

+ + + + + + +

It was a little after six thirty and the knock on the door startled Nathan. He was sitting at Chris' bedside, carefully sponging him down with cold water and he glanced across at Josiah as the ex-preacher picked at the plate of coldcuts that Inez had brought up earlier but the big man shrugged. Buck and JD had already stopped by to check on Chris and they were unsure who would be calling at suppertime. The healer opened the door and was a little surprised to find Mary Travis and the Judge standing there.

"Josiah said you'd be needing some more clean sheets," the woman said, holding out an armful of crisp folded linen. Nathan gave her a quick smile as he took the bedding from her.

"Thank you. Come on in." He stepped back as they entered and he heard the soft gasp from Mary as she caught a glimpse of the stricken gunslinger. It was the Judge who asked the obvious question.

"So how's he doing?"

"Not so good." There was no point in Nathan evading the truth; it was plain to see just how ill Chris Larabee really was. Travis nodded, glancing anxiously at his daughter-in-law. The sight of her pale shocked face made him question her decision to come to the clinic but he also knew what a determined woman she was.

"Would you like some coffee, Judge?" Josiah asked, standing by the stove with a freshly brewed pot in his hand.

"Thank you," the older man replied, removing his hat and pulling up a chair. "Mary?"

The blonde-haired woman shook her head and as the men sat down at the small table with their steaming cups she wandered slowly over to the bed and lowered herself into the chair that Nathan had not long vacated. Chris lay propped up in the bed, his eyes closed and his lips slightly parted as he drew each wheezing breath. Mary had never seen the gunslinger look so vulnerable and it suddenly scared her. His face was bathed with sweat; even the ends of his hair were tipped with moisture and his left hand clutched tightly at the sheets pushing them restlessly away from his neck.

Seeing the bowl standing on the table beside the bed Mary took the cloth from the cold water and wrung it out. The feel of the damp material against his clammy skin startled Chris and he muttered something unintelligible before he gave a shuddering breath and slowly opened his eyes. The sick man stared at her for several moments before a glimmer of recognition appeared on his face.

"M.... Mary?" His voice was barely a whisper, yet across the small room Nathan breathed a sigh of relief as he realised the gunslinger was lucid and his mind was fixed on the present this time. The newspaper woman gave him an encouraging smile and dropped the cloth back into the bowl.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she began. "How are you feeling?"

"… 'm hot," Chris muttered. He glanced down and his face flushed a shade redder as he realised he had pushed the sheets down to reveal his bare chest and he quickly pulled them back up to his chin. Although a little surprised at his apparent modesty Mary decided it would be best not to comment on his embarrassment. Instead she picked up a jug of water and poured some of it into a cup.

"Here, you must be thirsty," she said briskly.

Instinctively Chris reached out to take it but his hand was trembling with exhaustion and Mary gently brushed it aside, placing her hand behind his neck as she raised the cup to his lips. He managed a couple of small sips, fighting the urge to cough, and then lay back with a weary sigh. Mary watched him worriedly; even that small effort seemed to have tired him and she picked up the cloth again as she noticed fresh rivulets of sweat running down his face.

"Billy wanted to come and see you," she went on, quickly masking her own concern by setting down the cup. "Oh, and he asked me to give you this." Mary felt in her skirt pocket and drew out a slightly crumpled sheet of paper folded in two. As she placed it in his hand Chris stared at it curiously, his lips curving faintly into a smile when he saw the carefully drawn picture of a man, complete with black hat and boots, lying on a bed. "Open it up," Mary prompted and Chris slowly raised his other hand to unfold the sheet. He recognised Billy's childish scrawl immediately. It read "Hurry up an get better, Cris. I want to katch that big fish I promissed Ma. Luv Billy."

The gunslinger's smile broadened as he recalled that every time he and Mary Travis' young son went to their favourite fishing hole, a certain large speckled trout always seemed to elude their rods. He glanced up at the blonde woman and opened his mouth to convey his thanks but he stopped as he felt the now familiar tightening in his chest once again. Seeing his face suddenly cloud over, Mary reached out anxiously to touch his arm.

"Chris?"

The cough was much worse this time, tearing at the gunslinger's lungs until he thought they would burst under the pressure. Nathan and Josiah hurried to his side, lifting and supporting him as he struggled to recover his breath. Mary had sprung to her feet in alarm at the first gasping wheeze and she was grateful for the Judge's comforting grasp on her shoulder as she watched in horrified fascination.

"Try and take shallow breaths, Chris," Nathan urged, seeing the look of panic in the hazel eyes as he painfully battled to suck in air. The healer rubbed frantically at the gunslinger's back, trying to relieve the pressure until he felt the spasms begin to ease. Rusty brown streaks stained the bed sheets and continued to dribble from Chris' lips as he slumped back against the pillows, totally spent. Nathan took the cloth Josiah handed to him and gently wiped the gunslinger's face and neck, mouthing soothing words until he heard Chris' breathing gradually slow. He had never nursed someone this ill before and he was starting to feel at a loss to know how to deal with it. Chris Larabee was a good friend and he hated to see the man suffer in this way. The healer looked up, realising that Mary Travis and the Judge were still standing near the bed, their faces white with shock.

"I think it best y'leave now," he said. His voice was soft, but both of them saw the determination in his dark eyes.

"Yes, of course," the Judge agreed, pushing Mary towards the door. The young woman was reluctant to go, her green eyes fixed on the semi-conscious form of the gunslinger and feeling guilty that maybe her visit had prompted this new attack. She fervently hoped an improvement would come soon but all she felt in her heart was a profound sense of foreboding.

+ + + + + + +

"So tell me about Marie Laborteaux."

Vin strung out the syllables of the unfamiliar name as he refilled his own and Ezra's coffee cups.

It was late in the evening and the single lamp hanging from a cross beam cast a small pool of light that kept the darkness at bay. With the coffee on to brew Vin had cleaned and bandaged the messy wound on the gambler's arm and had wrapped a cold compress around his ankle to encourage the swelling to go down even further. Ezra had attacked with great gusto the pork and beans that the tracker had prepared, but Vin himself barely touched the food. Once the plates had been cleared away and a fresh pot of coffee set on the table the Texan had asked the question that had intrigued him three days ago.

"Ah, Marie!" Ezra gave his friend a wistful look as he cast his mind back a number of years. "Now there was a lady who could charm the last dollar out of your pocket and make you love every minute of the taking!"

"A bit like your mother."

"Mr Tanner - please!" Ezra sounded shocked. "Not at all. Beneath Marie's lovely exterior beat a heart of pure stone!"

"So who was she?"

"Beautiful, intelligent, and very discreet. She would be entertained by a different... gentleman... almost every night, and take the utmost pleasure in it. Let's just say that she and I shared a wonderful summer."

"You mean she was a whore?" Vin seemed shocked that the gambler would admit to having been involved with someone like that. "So what happened?" The tracker's curiosity was roused now. Ezra gave a mocking laugh and for a moment a smile flitted across his face but then the smile hardened and his voice grew cold.

"She suddenly broke off our relationship and left New Orleans. It was only later I learned that a young man had died in mysterious circumstances, and that she was a suspect." He sighed. "Suddenly I find myself able to sympathise with her."

Vin took a sip of his coffee. "So that's who you thought Catherine Kirkland was?"

"Not was - is my friend. I would know her anywhere."

The tracker was surprised. One thing he was certain of and that was Ezra's uncanny knack for faces. If the gambler had been intimate with Marie Laborteaux and was convinced that that's who Catherine Kirkland was, then he had no reason to doubt him. However, there could be any number of reasons why she did not want to acknowledge her past. Had she merely bettered herself with a good marriage, or was there something more sinister to her denial?

"D'ya think it was true?" Vin asked.

Ezra shrugged. "I hadn't given it much thought until three days ago."

"When the Kirkland's arrived." Vin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I know ya didn't kill Henry, but there's a lot of folks who think yer guilty. What really happened that night?"

"I'm touched by your faith in me, but I can't say for certain."

Vin slammed his cup on the table, making the gambler jump. "Y'keep saying that! How can I help if y'won't tell me what happened?" There was exasperation in the tracker's voice, and Ezra could see that his temper was beginning to fray.

"Believe me, if I'd known how the evening would end I would never have agreed to the game of poker."

"Poker?"

"Yes. Henry Kirkland invited me to his suite for a private game."

"There weren't no sign of that when we found him."

"But I... " Ezra stopped, totally confused, and his gaze was drawn to the bundle of money still lying on the bottom of Chris Larabee's bed.

"That where ya got the money, Ezra?" Vin had noticed the dollar bills earlier partially concealed by the blankets but he had made no reference to them, waiting instead for the gambler to broach the subject himself.

"Yes. No. I - " The Southerner hesitated, aware that he been about to say 'I don't know' once again. He took a deep breath. "All I know is that somebody slipped something into my drink. I don't remember very much after that."

Vin could see that this conversation was going nowhere. Either Ezra genuinely could not remember, or he was concealing the truth. They had been friends for some time now, and the tracker was prepared to believe that the gambler was not lying. He hoped that Ezra would trust him to do the right thing by him.

"Ya'd best get some sleep. We'll be heading out early in the morning." The tracker paused, and his face was unfathomable as he regarded his friend. "We will be heading out in the morning, won't we?"

Ezra did not reply as he considered all the possibilities. Vin seemed convinced that he was innocent - more certain than he himself felt - but he feared the Judge would not be so lenient under the circumstances. What it really came down to was did he trust Vin enough?

"You have my word," Ezra said at length. "I'll come back to town with you."

+ + + + + + +

The atmosphere around the breakfast table in Mary Travis' house was decidedly strained. Billy had already eaten and set off for school, oblivious to the frostiness between his mother and his grandfather. Mary was extremely tetchy; the Judge's suggestion that Vin could not be relied on to carry out the murder investigation objectively given his friendship with Ezra had angered her.

"So you really think bringing in a Sheriff from another town is going to make a difference?" There was scorn in Mary's voice as she stared at her father-in-law.

"All I'm saying is that Vin is acting irresponsibly. Look how he took off yesterday, without a word to anybody. We wasted an entire afternoon going round in circles!"

"Well that's hardly Vin's fault," she retorted. "I know Henry was your friend, but you wouldn't be having these doubts if Chris were okay." There was a slight catch in her voice at that last comment and she lowered her gaze so the Judge could not see the worry in her eyes. Orin Travis knew she was right; he would have trusted Chris to be impartial and not let the constraints of friendship cloud his judgement.

"I'm not saying that Vin isn't doing his best, but maybe someone from outside Four Corners would see things a little clearer."

"Clearer?" Mary surged to her feet, throwing her napkin down on the table. "Can you honestly tell me that if Vin brought Ezra back you could put aside your personal feelings and listen to his side of the story?" There was nothing the Judge could say to that, and Mary knew it. "You do whatever you think is right. I'm going to the newspaper office."

As his daughter-in-law pulled a light shawl around her shoulders and stormed out, the Judge gave a heavy sigh. Mary was a headstrong woman; that had been one of the many qualities he had appreciated when she had married Stephen, but sometimes her words hit home. Could he put his friendship with Henry Kirkland to one side and treat the man accused of killing him fairly in order to find out the truth? He would only know the answer to that when the situation arose.

Mary scribbled out yet another line of writing and chewed the end of her pencil in frustration as she screwed up the piece of paper and hurled it across the room towards the waste basket. It was fortunate that the next edition of The Clarion was not due out for a few more days because she found herself unable to concentrate on any work at the moment.

The conversation with the Judge that morning had put her on edge and she could not help wondering about the situation with Ezra and Vin, but in particular her thoughts were concentrated on the very sick Chris Larabee. She had never seen Nathan so baffled and helpless and that frightened her. Realising that she was not going to get anything done Mary gave up and put her note-pad away, deciding that the best thing she could do was to go to the clinic and see how the gunslinger was. When she knocked on the door she was surprised to find it opened by Josiah.

"Mary? Come on in." The ex-preacher gestured her inside and as the woman looked around she could see that Nathan was absent. "Nathan'll be back soon," Josiah said, almost as though he had read her thoughts. "He's gone to see if there's been any reply to his telegraph yet."

"Oh! Well, maybe I'll come back later." She hesitated, her gaze drawn to the still form of the gunslinger and Josiah dropped a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Please - stay. Why don't you sit with him for a while?" he suggested. "And I'll make a fresh pot of coffee."

Mary nodded gratefully and slipped into the chair beside the bed, taking the time to study Chris carefully. He appeared to be resting comfortably although his breathing was still laboured and every lungful of air that he drew in seemed to be an effort. He was supported by several pillows, and a sheet and a light blanket covered his lean body. A bowl of steaming water stood on the bedside table, the pungeunt odour of eucalyptus and camphor drifting up with the vapour as Nathan tried another remedy to help Chris' breathing. Although the room was quite warm there was only the faintest hint of sweat on the gunslinger's flushed face and despite the fact that he had been ill for just a few days the effects were beginning to show. His face was drawn, dark hollows visible beneath his cheekbones, and the stubble showing along his jaw line seemed to emphasise just how much weight he had already lost. Josiah came over and handed her a cup of coffee which she took without looking up.

"He's no better, is he?" she observed, and the ex-preacher was not sure how to answer.

"At least he's no worse," he replied at length. "Nathan said his temperature's dropped slightly."

"It's so hard seeing him like this," she said softly, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly across Chris' cheek. "He's always seemed so strong, as if nothing could ever touch him, but... " Her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed hard as she realised she was about to say more than she had intended. She was undeniably fond of all the peacekeepers, especially Vin, but with Chris it was different. There were times when she would have given anything to be able to tell him how she really felt but something always held her back. Maybe it was the thought of getting hurt again or even the prospect of rejection but right now her feelings for him were bubbling dangerously close to the surface and she forcibly pushed them down.

"Sometimes the strongest tree has to bend," Josiah stated ambiguously. He could see that Mary was a little embarrassed by her words; he had known for some time how she felt about the gunslinger but he had wisely remained silent.

"Do you think Vin will find Ezra?" Mary's question almost took Josiah by surprise but he could understand why she had changed the subject.

"If any one can it'll be Vin," he assured her. Nathan had told him that the tracker had gone off on his own and how angry Buck was about that but it was typical of the Texan.

"What do you think, Josiah? Could Ezra have done something like this?"

The big man thought hard for a moment as he pulled another chair up and sat down beside Mary. "Ezra is a very troubled soul. People tend to think that all he cares about is monetary gain, but what he really desires is to be trusted and accepted by his friends. I can't see him throwing that away for a mere pittance."

"So you're saying he couldn't have done it?" Mary was relieved. She could not imagine that the gambler was that ruthless.

"Temptation is the Devil's plaything. I'm saying we are all capable of killing, given the right circumstances."

Mary glanced at him sharply, thinking back to the time when she had been forced to take the life of another to save Vin Tanner. Even though he had not condemned Ezra out of hand his words gave her cold comfort. However, before she had a chance to really think about what he had said Chris stirred slightly.

"Chris?" Mary leaned forward hopefully as the gunslinger's breathing pattern changed but he did not open his eyes. Instead his whole body went rigid, fists clenched tightly as he began to gasp frantically for air. Josiah hurried around to the other side of the bed and slipped an arm under the gunslinger's shoulders, sitting him up to try and ease the pressure on his lungs. Mary's face went white as Chris continued to struggle to catch his breath.

"Go and find Nathan. Quick!"

There was a hint of panic in Josiah's voice and Mary was on her feet immediately but before she could move several things happened at once. The door to the clinic suddenly opened as Nathan returned just as Chris gave a long strangled sigh and slumped in Josiah's grip. His head lolled back against the ex-preacher's arm and his hands fell limply to his sides. As Mary gasped with horror Josiah looked up at the healer in stunned disbelief.

"Dear God, Nathan," he murmured. "He's not breathing!"

+ + + + + + +

Vin was glad to finally be back in Four Corners.

He had barely slept the previous night; part of him trusted that Ezra would not run while the other half demanded that he remain alert just in case. It had made for a very restless slumber.

The sun had just climbed above the horizon when they had left Chris' cabin and it was a much subdued and sober Ezra who rode beside the tracker. He had already voiced his very real fears that the Judge would lock him up and throw away the key but he had enough faith in Vin to trust that the Texan would stand by him. He was also very concerned about Chris; it was obvious from the tracker's mood that the situation was fairly serious.

Once again Vin had asked why he had gone to the hotel suite but Ezra still could not remember clearly, although more and more of that evening was coming back to him. However, Vin had been taken completely unawares by the gambler's revelation that Clayton was present at the poker game. Suddenly he recalled the single card that had been found beneath Henry Kirkland's body, a card which had confused all of them at the time but which now seemed to make sense. Although all the evidence found in the room still pointed to Ezra the gambler had now placed Clayton at the scene of the crime. However, that did not seem to add up; Vin knew that the younger Kirkland was having supper with Mary Travis round about the time his father was killed. One thing was certain, there were a number of questions he would be asking once he got back.

As they rode down the main street towards the jail Vin was acutely aware of the curious - and sometimes hostile - glances directed at him and Ezra from some of the town's people. Obviously the rumour mill had been in full flow and there were some who had already tried and convicted the gambler. Ezra himself kept looking around, half expecting Judge Travis to appear and condemn him on the spot.

As they passed the saloon JD emerged. He had been looking for Buck and he gaped in amazement as Vin and Ezra rode past.

"You found him!" he exclaimed, and the tracker glanced across and nodded at him.

"Yeah. Where's Buck?" Vin was hoping that the ladies man would be at the jail, allowing him to hand Ezra over so he could go straight to the clinic.

"I'll go and find him. He's probably at the clinic."

Before Vin could ask about the ailing gunslinger the young peacekeeper was gone. The two men continued on and dismounted outside the jail, fastening their horses reins to the hitching rail. As Ezra patted the neck of his 'borrowed' bay. he gave the Texan a faint grin.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you saved me from the ignominious spectacle of being paraded through town in shackles and chains!"

Vin made no comment as he ushered the gambler inside the building. Pulling the bundle of notes from his pocket he locked the money in the desk drawer before turning to the Southerner and holding out his hand.

"I gotta have yer gun," he stated, and Ezra handed it over without hesitation. He knew Vin should have taken the Derringer from him at the cabin but it was a clear indication of the measure of trust that the tracker had in him that he had not worried about it until now. However, trust only went so far before duty kicked in and the Texan's sworn duty was to uphold the law in Four Corners no matter what, and there was a look of regret on the tracker's face as he picked up the bunch of keys and pointed towards the cells.

"Sorry, Ezra, but ya know I gotta do this."

The gambler made no reply; he just gave Vin a sidelong look as he walked into the first cell, closing his eyes briefly as he heard the door close and locked behind him.

"I'm gonna go see the Judge and let him – " the tracker began, but his words were cut off as JD exploded through the door of the office and skidded to a halt.

"Vin!" He was red-faced and breathless. "Nathan wants you down at the clinic. Now!"

The Texan felt a cold hand trail icy fingers down his spine and he was out of the door almost before the young peacekeeper had finished speaking, running along the sidewalk with dread in his heart. Chris. Chris. Chris. The litany echoed to the pounding of his feet, and he raced up the steps two at a time, flinging open the door. He came to a stumbling halt just inside, his mind refusing to believe what he was seeing.

Nathan stood beside Chris Larabee's bed with his head bowed while Mary sat on a chair beside it, red-rimmed eyes telling him what he feared the most. Josiah stood behind her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder as he softly murmured a prayer.

"No!"

Vin did not recognise his own anguished cry as Nathan looked up, his gaze stricken as the tracker turned on his heels and fled. He got as far as the top of the stairs. Leaning over the rail, knuckles standing out white as he gripped it tightly, he drew great gulps of air into his lungs. The sick feeling gradually passed, leaving behind just the misery and emptiness and he closed his eyes against the bitter sting of tears. Vin did not hear the footsteps behind him and he jumped as a hand gripped his shoulder.

"Vin? Y'okay?" Nathan sounded tired but not grief-stricken, and the tracker glanced at him through damp lashes. "D'ya wanna see him?"

"No… I can't…not… " Vin stopped, unable to voice exactly what it was that he was thinking and Nathan gasped as he suddenly realised why the Texan had run.

"Sweet Jesus!" he murmured, his heart going out to the young tracker. The resonance of his own fear still echoed in his head, and he could understand how it must have looked. Placing his hand on the back of the Texan's neck he squeezed gently. "Ya thought he'd... " His voice trailed off as Vin's head dropped. "He's still hanging on," he continued softly. "But I won't lie to ya. The news ain't good"

The healer felt the younger man's shoulders stiffen at his words, and the tracker drew a deep breath as he regarded his friend. "Tell me."

Nathan reached into his pocket and drew out a small sheet of paper. "I finally got an answer from the doctor in Diablo Falls. He's had at least twenty cases like Chris in the last week." He paused, his eyes dropping briefly to the note in his hand before looking up at the Texan again. "Six have already died and three more are seriously ill."

Vin gave a soft curse and he had to glance away quickly as he once again felt the hot prickling behind his eyes. His overwhelming sense of relief that Chris was still clinging to life was soured by the desperate news Nathan had received from Diablo Falls.

"Does he know what it is?"

Nathan shook his head. "He just thinks it's a bad form of pneumonia, but nothing he does seems to help."

The tracker shook his head and ran a hand across his travel-stained face. Nathan noticed his weary gesture and stared at the younger man with concern. Vin looked bone-tired, the anxiety over Chris' illness and Ezra's apparent involvement in Henry Kirkland's murder were all starting to take their toll on him.

Nathan did not dare tell him about the gunslinger's latest relapse. The shock he felt when he had come back to the clinic and discovered that Chris was not breathing was still horribly fresh in his mind. Acting purely on instinct, Nathan had thrust the panic-stricken Mary out of his way and turned Chris quickly onto his side, slapping the palm of his hand sharply between the gunslinger's shoulder blades. The sick man had given a choking gasp as Nathan repeated the action several more times amd Chris had started to cough, bringing up a large amount of mucus which had been lodged in his windpipe, temporarily cutting off his air supply. As he started to breathe again Nathan had sunk down on the bed, wiping his brow with relief. Chris had only stopped breathing for perhaps half a minute but it was the longest thirty seconds in Nathan's life.

"I wanna see him," Vin stated, and Nathan looked at the tracker critically.

"Looks like ya could do with some rest," he suggested, but the Texan gave him a ghost of a smile.

"Could say the same about you, but that ain't possible. Just brought Ezra back to town. Got a whole heap of questions to ask."

"All right, but not too long and promise me ya'll get some sleep later"

The Texan nodded, although he was unsure whether he could keep that promise, and crossed to the open door of the clinic. Inside Mary was on her feet talking quietly to Josiah but both of them glanced up quickly when Vin appeared. The newspaperwoman immediately wanted to go to the tracker and offer some gesture of comfort but Josiah took one look at the strained expression on the younger man's face and shook his head. Without a word he ushered her out of the door and Vin gave the ex-preacher a grateful nod as they left.

Chris looked worse than ever. He seemed to have deteriorated rapidly since yesterday and as Vin sank into the chair next to the bed he had the distinct impression that Nathan was not telling him everything about his friend's condition. A deathly pallor had replaced the gunslinger's high colour and if anything his stertorous breathing sounded louder and more laborious. This disease - whatever it was - had already claimed the lives of six people in Diablo Falls and Vin now had a very real fear that his best friend might be next. Reaching forward the tracker touched the sick man lightly on the wrist.

"Chris?" At first there was no response but as Vin called him again Chris stirred and half-opened his eyes, fingers curling instinctively around the Texan's hand.

"H... hey." The gunslinger's voice was faint and croaky but Vin smiled in response. "N... not fe...feeling so g.... good," Chris forced out.

"I know, pard," Vin answered softly, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "But yer gonna get better real soon, y'hear?"

"M...maybe," the other murmured. Chris had never feared dying before – in fact at one point in his life he would have welcomed it – but now the prospect terrified him. He remembered the moment when he had started to wake and then the pure unadulterated panic when he could not draw breath or move any part of his body. When his world had gone totally black he thought he had died. The fear was still on his face as he regarded his friend. "Maybe not."

The hopelessness in his tone made the Texan's stomach churn with despair. Until he had walked into the clinic and thought that he had lost his best friend Vin had not realised how much of a hole that would leave in his life and his heart. He wished there was some way to ease the man's pain, but how could he do that when his own world was falling apart? He leaned closer as he saw Chris' eyes begin to droop.

"Nathan said I can't stay long," Vin explained, knowing the older man was tiring, "But I wanted to tell ya I found Ezra." Chris opened his eyes once more and the tracker was pleased to see there was some kind of reaction to his news. "Still don't reckon he killed Kirkland," Vin went on, "But I aim to find out who did."

The gunslinger gave a brief nod. "Wish I c...could help you, pard."

"So do I," Vin replied with feeling. He could feel his resolve beginning to crumble under the frightened hazel gaze and he tried to force a smile to his lips. "Once yer back on yer feet… "

"Don't, Vin." Chris cut him off mid-sentence. "I ain't stupid. I know this is bad."

Vin could feel the sudden lurch of fear as he bowed his head, unable to find the right words. As much as he wanted to deny what Chris had said he could not – not without lying to the gunslinger, and he was not prepared to do that.

"If I don't… make it – " Chris paused, fighting to find the courage to continue. "I want you to have Pony and – " He stopped again as the tracker surged to his feet.

"No! I don't want to hear this!" Vin sounded angry, but it was an anger born of despair. "I thought ya were a fighter, Chris? Don't make me out a liar!"

Despite his weariness Chris was surprised by the Texan's outburst. It was easy to see why Vin had endeared himself to so many people. The tracker had a zest for life that encompassed all those who knew him and all those he cared about, and he was not about to let anything take that away from him. The gunslinger started to push himself up but the cough caught him again, not as bad as before but sufficient to leave him gasping. Vin dropped back into the chair, seeing the pain on Chris' face.

"Sorry. I didn't… " The tracker was not sure what he was apologising for as he caught Chris‘ hand in a fierce grip, and the gunslinger took a steadying breath.

"'s not your fault," he wheezed as Nathan stepped back into the room, his face anxious as he hurried over to Chris.

"Vin."

The tracker looked up, seeing the warning on Nathan's face but for the moment he remained where he was, still gripping the gunslinger's hand.

"Gotta go, Chris, but ya just rest, y'hear?" He shot a quick glance at the healer who gave him a tight smile in return but as Vin turned back to the gunslinger he could see the hint of panic in his friend's eyes at his impending departure. "I ain't going yet," the Texan assured him quickly, his voice breaking. "Get some sleep, cowboy."

Vin sat in the chair until he was certain that Chris was finally asleep and then carefully released his grip on the gunslinger's hand before he stumbled outside, his vision blurring as he fought back the tears. He blinked furiously in the noonday sun, conscious that Josiah and Mary were still standing nearby but he ignored their concerned glances as he strode quickly down the stairs. Right now he needed some time and space to be alone.

As he hurried along to his wagon - still not thinking clearly other than to find some solitude - he heard his name called and looked up to find Buck coming towards him. He cursed softly under his breath; the last thing he needed now was a confrontation with the ladies man.

"Vin! I heard you were back in town. Where'd you find Ezra?"

"At Chris' place. Figgered he wouldn't go far if he'd been hurt."

Buck frowned. "How'd you know that?"

"I found - " Vin stopped, realising that he was about to admit that he had lied to Buck the previous day.

"What d'you find?" Buck pounced on the guilty admission. "Was it something in the room?"

Vin sighed. "Does it matter? Ezra's locked up. Ain't that what ya want?"

"I want to find the killer."

"That's just what I aim to do," Vin agreed softly. He was not used to having his actions questioned by a friend and he found the whole situation distasteful.

"Seems to me that's all you've been doing."

Vin looked steadily at the ladies man, seeing the question in his eyes and he could feel his own temper starting to rise.

"Alright - spit it out, Buck. What ya trying to say?"

"Nothing. But I thought you could spend some of your precious time with Chris. After all, he's supposed to be your best friend, isn't he?" There was no escaping the hint of bitterness and jealousy in Buck's voice. Vin just looked at him, wondering how he could even ask such a question. Shaking his head he turned to walk away but Buck was not finished. Grabbing the tracker's shoulder he pulled him around. "Don't you even care?" he demanded.

There were very few times in Vin's life that he had allowed his temper to get the better of him but this was one of them. As he was spun round he felt his right hand unconsciously curl into a fist. The next thing Buck Wilmington knew he was sitting on the ground, his fingers gingerly feeling his aching jaw.

"I care - more than you think," Vin countered, flexing his bruised knuckles as he walked away. Pounding footsteps heralded the arrival of JD and he reached down to haul Buck to his feet.

"What the hell just happened?" the young peacekeeper asked. Buck seemed a little stunned, surprised himself by the Texan's words and action.

"Vin happened," was the only reply.

+ + + + + + +

It was amazing how quickly word had gone round town that two of the peacekeepers had had an altercation, and more than a few people were astonished to discover that one of them was Vin Tanner,

The tracker was now sitting at a corner table in the saloon, nursing a glass of beer and enduring the kind of wary looks that were usually reserved for Chris Larabee. He was beginning to calm down a little after his uncharacteristic display of temper and although he had surprised himself there was no denying that Buck had pushed him beyond his tolerance.

Lost in his thoughts Vin did not realise that anyone had approached the table until a glass of whiskey was placed in front of him, and he looked up to find Judge Travis standing there. His eyes narrowed and he gave a heavy sigh; he could take a pretty good guess at the reason for the Judge's presence and he really was not in the mood for it.

"I figgered you could do with something stronger than that beer," the older man remarked as he sat down. Taking a sip of his own drink Travis studied the Texan carefully; he had never seen the tracker in such a sombre mood before and he suddenly realised just how much of a strain Vin was under. Henry Kirkland's murder, his belief in Ezra's innocence, and the desperate worry over Chris seemed to have placed a heavy burden on the peacekeeper's shoulders and the Judge was not about to add to it. Mary's words of this morning had made him stop and think and he was ready to look at the case more objectively now and was prepared to give the gambler the benefit of the doubt.

Vin picked up the whiskey - almost a peace offering - and raised the glass in silent salute to the Judge before downing it in one go.

"I hear you and Buck had a ... 'disagreement'," the Judge went on when it became clear that Vin was not about to speak. "I'm not sure I approve of my peacekeepers brawling in the street."

"So fire me!" The petulant reply made Orin Travis smile and he took another swallow of his drink to hide his amusement.

"I don't believe I'll do that," the Judge told him. "After all, where else could I find someone who'd work for a dollar a day?" The Texan gave a faint smile at that remark, and the Judge was pleased to see his mood lighten a little. "Besides, we need to find out what really happened that night."

Vin raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Thought y'already had that figgered out," he stated defensively.

"If that's what you thought then why did you bring Ezra back?" He gave the tracker a measured look, knowing he had no answer to that and Vin leaned back in the chair.

"Alright - what d'ya wanna do?"

"I think we need to hear Mr Standish's side of the story before we decide."

For a moment Vin was not sure that he was sitting here having this conversation. Was this really the same man who had stormed into the jail three days ago and demanded justice and Ezra's head on a plate? However, he was not about to pass up this conciliatory gesture on the Judge's part. He felt more positive now that Travis was willing to listen to the gambler and he pushed his chair back as he climbed to his feet.

"Reckon now's as good a time as any," he said, but the Judge waved him away.

"You go ahead. I'm gonna finish my drink and check on Mary. She was pretty upset earlier."

The tracker nodded and touched his hat as he left. The Judge watched him go, his expression thoughtful. At some point he would like to know just what it was that had sparked the dispute between Buck and Vin but that would have to wait for some other time.

Once again Ezra looked down at the floor of the cell, convinced that he must have worn a groove in the stone by now with his constant pacing. More than thirty minutes had elapsed - although it seemed far longer - since JD had passed on Nathan's urgent summons to Vin and the young peacekeeper had followed the tracker out of the jail almost immediately, leaving Ezra wondering and worrying just what was going on.

As the minutes ticked by with no sign of the Texan returning Ezra was growing increasingly alarmed. Although Vin had not said much about Chris' condition it was obvious to someone who knew the tracker well that he was desperately concerned. The gambler slammed his hand against the bars, frustration at his helplessness beginning to get the better of him. Even though he and Chris Larabee did not always see eye to eye, he counted the gunslinger as a friend and he hated being in a position where he could not help him. Stepping back he flopped down on the bunk, just as the door of the building opened and Vin walked in. Ezra was on his feet at once, fingers gripping the steel bars tightly.

"Vin! What's happened? Is Chris alright?"

The tracker removed his hat and flung it on the desk, running his fingers wearily through his hair.

"No, he ain't." The Texan looked tired and sounded totally despondent as he picked up the coffee pot and set it on the stove. He turned to face the gambler, and the lines of strain were etched even deeper on his bleak face. "He's just about hanging on."

For a moment Ezra was at a loss for words; Vin was his friend and he really felt for him, but his anxiety over Chris pushed his own predicament firmly to one side.

"So what is Mr Jackson doing for him? Does he even know what's wrong?" the gambler demanded.

"Nathan's doing his best." Vin defended the healer and then went on to tell Ezra about the message Nathan had received back from the doctor in Diablo Falls. Hearing this the Southerner could understand why Vin was so troubled; the number of people who had already died from this illness made Chris Larabee's chances of survival look very slim indeed. The tracker was just pouring coffee for both of them when the door opened again and Judge Travis walked in.

Ezra went a little pale and stepped away from the bars, his earlier fears suddenly rushing back. The Judge threw the gambler a quick glance and then ignored him, taking the second cup of coffee from Vin's hand before the tracker could object.

"So, tell me what you've found out," Travis said as he settled himself on the chair behind the desk. Vin perched himself on the corner and looked briefly in Ezra's direction before replying. The Judge listened impassively to all the damning details until Vin reached the point about the private poker game with Henry Kirkland and the fact that Clayton was also present.

"Clayton? But wasn't he having dinner with Mary that evening?"

"Excuse me, gentleman - may I be permitted to say something?" Ezra's voice floated out of the open doorway and the Judge got up and walked through to the cells, his face unreadable as he regarded the gambler.

"You're certain Clayton was there?" he asked. Ezra nodded.

"He was definitely there when I arrived." The gambler thought for a moment. "That was a little before eight."

"What time'd he have supper with Mary?" Vin wanted to know, and the Judge frowned.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I was reading to Billy when she left. I didn't notice the time." He turned back to the gambler. "And you say something was slipped into your drink? Are you suggesting it was Clayton?"

"I'm not suggesting anything." The gambler sounded exasperated. "I just don't know for sure."

"Reckon we need to ask some more questions."

"I'll talk to Mary later," the Judge said. "But maybe you and Buck can talk to Clayton - that's if you promise not to hit him again!"

Ezra looked up in surprise, wondering if Orin Travis was making a joke at his expense but judging by the sheepish look on Vin's face he decided he was not.

"Hit him? You hit Clayton Kirkland?" The gambler could not believe he was asking that question.

"No, he hit Buck," the Judge told him.

"You hit Buck?" Ezra almost squeaked. "Why?"

"It ain't important," the tracker replied slowly, but he would not meet the Southerner's green eyes. He shrugged. "We'll talk to Kirkland. See what he's gotta say."

"Am I to assume I must languish in this establishment like a common criminal for a while longer?" The gambler sounded mortified by the prospect.

"We need to check out your story first," Travis told him. "Then we'll see." He turned to the tracker. "I'll talk to you later after I've spoken to Mary."

Once the Judge had left Ezra felt he could relax a little. The situation was not quite so bad as he had first thought and he was glad that he had placed his trust in Vin. Once this was over he was determined to make it up to him in some way. However, there was just one more pressing matter. As Vin picked up his hat and got ready to leave the gambler cleared his throat.

"I take it you don't intend to starve me whilst I am your guest?" he stated, and the Texan gave a slight smile.

"I'll swing by the saloon and see what Inez can rustle up for ya."

"Take your time. I'm hardly in a position to go anywhere."

Nathan felt as though he had aged ten years in the last hour. The shock of almost losing Chris had left him decidedly shaken; his reaction when the gunslinger had stopped breathing had been entirely reflexive and he was relieved that his unorthodox actions had worked. However, he was now beginning to think that his natural abilities were beginning to desert him.

He leaned back against the wall as he sat on the bench outside the clinic door, his eyes hooded as he stared across the rooftops. He did not even look up as the boards creaked and Josiah settled down beside him. The ex-preacher waited, knowing that Nathan was deeply troubled and would only speak when he was ready. He did not have too long to wait.

"D'you know - I feel so helpless," the healer began, bitter frustration in his voice. He looked up at the sign hanging by the balustrade and gave a mirthless laugh. "'Wounds healed, bones set'," he quoted. "Yeah I can do that, but this... " He rubbed his hands wearily across his face and closed his eyes in despair.

Josiah did not quite know what to say to the despondent healer; when it came to actual injuries or wounds then Nathan knew immediately what to do but with an illness like this there was nothing he could treat and that was causing his frustration. The man had tried several different combinations of herbal potions to try and ease Chris' debilitating cough and aid his breathing but the result was always the same. The gunslinger would start coughing again which caused him to be violently sick. He shook his head.

"That's not true. A lot of people in this town owe their lives to you. You remember when that girl shot JD? You didn't give up on him."

"That was different." Nathan knew the incident Josiah was referring to, when the young peacekeeper had been shot by Maddie Stokes. "There's nothing I can physically do for Chris. I can't seem to keep anything down him an' he's getting weaker every day. I just dunno what else to try."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, my friend. Even the doctor in Diablo Falls doesn't know what to do, and he's had years of training." Josiah paused. "At least you know it's not contagious."

"That's the strange thing about it," Nathan replied, thinking back to the telegraph. "It seems to be just around one place, but it doesn't affect everybody. That's what's really puzzling Doctor Baxter." There was a long silence and then the healer sighed. "What if I lose him, Josiah? What do I tell the others? If I can't save my friend I'm no use as a healer."

The ex-preacher placed a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. "You're only a man, Nathan. You can only do so much. After that, it's down to the will of God."

"Yeah, I know," the healer said heavily, "but somehow it don't make it any easier." Nathan fell silent for a moment and then climbed wearily to his feet. "I guess I'd best go an' see if there's any change. Why don't you go take a rest? I can manage here for a while." It was almost a dismissive comment from Nathan and Josiah could appreciate that he probably needed some time by himself.

"Alright, but just remember what I said - you need to have a little faith in yourself."

Josiah sat there for a few minutes after Nathan had gone back into the clinic and closed the door. If only there was some way he could help his friend but his own skills lay in a different direction. As he sat there deep in thought an idea suddenly began to form in his mind.

His decision made, Josiah climbed to his feet and hurried down the stairs. Time was of the essence, and he needed to put his plan into motion as soon as possible.

+ + + + + + +

"JD!"

The young peacekeeper had just left the saloon and was heading for the jailhouse when he heard a female voice call his name. He stopped and turned, his face creasing into a smile as he saw the young woman hurrying towards him.

"Hey Casey, where've you been lately?" Ignoring his question she looked at him, an anxious frown on her forehead.

"How's Chris?"

JD's humour vanished immediately. "Not so good," he told her. "Buck's just come from the clinic." His face clouded over as he recalled Buck's anguished expression. "Ain't never seen him look so worried before, Casey." He had left his friend sitting in the saloon, an untouched beer on the table in front of him. JD had tried to reassure the older man that the gunslinger would be alright but his words had fallen on deaf ears.

"Folks round town are afraid this illness might spread."

JD shook his head. "Well they're wrong! Nathan says it's something that Chris picked up on his last trip. It's not catching."

Casey looked slightly relieved that no one else would succumb to this unknown disease, but it did not lessen her concern over the gunslinger. She had to confess that she had always been in awe and more than a little wary of Chris Larabee but she could understand the respect, loyalty and friendship that his friends had for the tall, taciturn peacekeeper. It seemed so ironic that a man such as him, who lived with danger every day, could be laid so low by this sickness.

"Uh-oh!" Casey glanced up at JD in surprise.

"What?"

The young man was staring over her shoulder at someone coming down the boardwalk and she turned around to see Vin Tanner striding purposefully towards the saloon. Turning back to JD, she saw the consternation on his face.

"Is it true that Buck and Vin had a fight?" she asked him excitedly.

"Hardly that," he answered scornfully. "Although Vin did knock him on his butt." He paused, his frown deepening as the tracker entered the saloon. "I'd better go. The mood Buck's in, there's likely to be a repeat performance."

JD hurried off, ignoring the young woman's howl of protest and slowly pushed open the batwing doors. Buck was sitting where he had left him, his head bowed and his glass still full. He seemed unaware that Vin had come in and the tracker appeared perfectly content to lean by the bar sipping on his own beer. JD slipped quietly into an empty chair by the entrance where he could watch both men, hoping that there would be no further trouble between them.

Buck was still trying to get his head around what Nathan had just told him. He had thought that nursing Chris through influenza had been bad enough but then it had never occurred to him that the gunslinger could die. However, with the telegraph from Diablo Falls and the frightening admission from the healer that Chris had already stopped breathing once, he was faced with the very real prospect that he might lose his oldest friend, and frankly the idea terrified him. Somehow he could not imagine Chris not being around.

Even though there had been large gaps where they had not seen each other for a long time, the friendship had endured. They had experienced the highs and the very lows together, sometimes amicably but usually extremely volatile and the deaths of Sarah and Adam had forged a special bond between them. But that bond was also part of the problem; it was a constant reminder of the happier times and the fateful decision that had kept Chris away from his home the night Cletus Fowler came calling. Buck was never sure how much the gunslinger blamed him for that but it couldn't be any more than he blamed himself.

So why was he so pissed off with Vin Tanner at the moment? He had always felt a little put out by the way Vin had usurped his place at Chris' side but putting aside the natural jealousy that was always simmering just beneath the surface he also thought that the Texan was not acting how a concerned friend should. Although he understood that the murder of Henry Kirkland had to be investigated, he could not understand why Vin seemed to be concentrating all his time and effort on Ezra's plight instead of Chris.

"Buck."

The ladies man looked up startled at the sound of Vin's voice. He had not been aware of the tracker's approach - hell, he had not even realised he was in the saloon! - and he was still a touch edgy after recent events.

"Need yer help," the Texan said.

"My help?" The question came out slightly mocking. "Somehow I thought you could manage all by yourself."

"We gotta talk to Clayton Kirkland." Vin ignored the sarcastic tone of Buck's words. "Seems he was there just before his father was killed."

"Ezra tell you that?"

"Yeah, he did." The tracker had reached the point where he was no longer intimidated nor baited by Buck's jibes. He needed the other man's help to prove the gambler innocent and he was prepared to swallow a few insults to reach that end. "He said he was invited for a poker game."

"What poker game?" Despite his earlier doubts Buck had to admit that his curiosity was roused now. "There was no sign of any game in the room."

"Remember that card that was under the body?"

"Waal... yeah." Buck thought for a moment. "Are you suggesting Clayton had something to do with his father's death?"

"I'm saying he lied. Y'gonna help?"

Buck stared at the Texan for a long minute. There was nothing he could do at the clinic except sit around and worry and drowning his sorrows in alcohol had suddenly lost all its appeal.

"Hell - why not!" he exclaimed, picking up his glass and taking a long swallow.

JD breathed a sigh of relief as the two peacekeepers left the saloon. He had tensed in his seat when Vin had strolled across to the table but Buck had held his temper in check this time. Even though he could not hear their conversation he sensed that the longer they talked the less chance there was of yet another argument between them. The fact that they now seemed to be in accord made him feel a lot happier.

Clayton Kirkland swore vehemently at the sudden knock on his door. He was late enough already and could ill afford to be delayed even further. Shrugging into his jacket, he stalked over and threw open the door to reveal two of the town's peacekeepers standing on the threshold, Vin Tanner spoke first, touching his hat politely.

"Sorry to bother ya, Mr Kirkland, but we'd be obliged if ya could answer a few questions for us."

Clayton gave an irritated sigh. "I really don't have time right now. I promised to take Catherine out for a drive. She needs some fresh air"

"Yeah, we saw Mrs Kirkland sitting in the foyer," Buck commented, pushing his way past Clayton without waiting for an invitation. "This won't take too long."

Kirkland had no choice but to follow the peacekeeper into the room while Vin pushed the door shut and leaned nonchalantly against it, thumbs hooked casually in his belt. The tracker was content to let Buck ask the questions; he wanted to take this opportunity to observe Clayton's reactions to Ezra's assertion that the young man was at least present before the killing took place.

"So what do you want to know?" Clayton was aggressive, his tone a little churlish as he watched Buck wandering around the room. "I see you caught Standish. When's the trial gonna be?"

"Waal, see the Judge is in two minds about that." Buck gave him a knowing half-smile.

"What d'you mean?"

"Seeing as Ezra came back voluntarily, and had some mighty interesting notions about what happened to your Pa, Judge Travis thought it'd be best if we went over the details one more time."

Kirkland stared at Buck for a moment, and then threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the silently observing Texan.

"I thought you had all the proof you needed? That gambler killed my father and stole his money!" Clayton had mentioned previously that he had discovered that at least two hundred dollars was missing from his father's wallet.

"That ain't what Ezra says." Vin's reply made Clayton turn and look at him.

"And of course you believe him!" the young man stated indignantly. Buck waited for Vin to carry on but the tracker fell stubbornly silent again.

"We ain't saying that," the ladies man said. "We just want to clear a few things up. Ezra told us that your Pa invited him up to the suite for a game of poker." He paused and his eyes grew hard. "He also said you were there."

Clayton looked surprised and then he grew angry. "That's a damn lie!"

"What's a lie?" Buck asked mildly. "The poker game or the fact that you were there?"

"The poker game, of course," Clayton spluttered nervously. "My father would never have invited him up."

"So you're saying you were there?" Buck continued to push the point.

"I thought yer Pa enjoyed a game of cards?" Vin put in while Clayton was still floundering for an answer. "Does he carry his own deck?"

"Well... yes, but... "

"D'you mind if we have a look at it?" Buck asked. "We understand you have some of your father's personal belongings."

Clayton was totally baffled and more than a little annoyed by this turn of events and he could not see where it was leading. "This is pointless," he snapped. "I can't see how this is relevant to my father's death." Neither peacekeeper made a comment and Kirkland realised that he had no choice in the matter. With an angry scowl he stomped over to the wardrobe and pulled out a large valise. Reaching inside he took out a small leather case and thrust it at Buck. "There! My father's cards - satisfied?"

"Count 'em, Buck."

Vin watched as the ladies man took the deck from the leather case and turned them face down as he counted them.

"I make it fifty one," Buck said when he had finished.

"So one's missing. What does that prove?" Clayton demanded.

Vin reached into his pocket. "Reckon this might be it." He held out the bloodstained jack of spades, turning it over to reveal that the design matched the others in Buck's hand. Clayton's face blanched as he stared at the cards in shock.

"Where'd you find that?"

"It was under your father's body, but we can't figger out how it got there." Buck shrugged. "Maybe there is some truth in what Ezra said after all." He held out the deck of cards, noticing how Clayton's hand shook when he took them. "Well, I guess we've taken up enough of your time." Buck turned to the Texan. "You about done, Vin?"

"Reckon so."

As the two peacekeeper's started to leave Buck suddenly stopped and frowned as he regarded Clayton.

"Oh, just one more thing - what time did you meet Mary Travis for supper that night?"

"Er... I think it was about eight thirty, maybe a little earlier."

Buck smiled disarmingly and touched his hat politely. "Well, thanks for your time. Have a pleasant drive."

"He's lying." The comment came from Vin as the two men walked along the hotel corridor towards the stairs.

"Why'd you say that? Is it 'cos it doesn't tie up with what Ezra told you?"

The tracker refused to rise to the slight challenge in the other's tone. "The man was as nervous as a wild mustang in a box canyon, Buck."

"Hell, I'd have been nervous in his boots!"

"All I'm saying is we should keep an eye on him."

Buck gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, so long as Kirkland doesn't make a complaint against us!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Vin replied with a grin, and the ladies man had to agree.

It was around nine o'clock and Vin, Buck, and JD were gathered in the jail having a lively discussion about the murder. Rather Vin and Buck were having the conversation, while JD kept his thoughts to himself. He could see that there was still an undercurrent of tension between the other two peacekeepers and he could feel his own loyalty being divided.

Back in the cell Ezra was by no means silent, dropping his own two cents worth in at relevant points although he had had to confirm that Clayton was correct when he had told the other's that he had left the suite before eight thirty to meet Mary Travis. However, the gambler was furious when he heard that Clayton had denied that his father had organised a private poker game, sticking instead to the story that Ezra had gone there with robbery and murder in mind. The Southerner was still angrily pacing back and forth when the front door opened and the Judge entered.

"Evening boys," he greeted. Buck scrambled out of the chair behind the desk and offered it to the older man while JD handed him a cup of coffee and refilled their own cups. "So, Clayton tells me you've been making a nuisance of yourselves," Travis stated, glancing at Vin and Buck. Taking a sip of his coffee he managed to hide his smile at the look of disgust on Vin's face and the pained expression that Buck turned to him.

"See? I just knew that would happen!" The ladies man raised his eyes skyward. "We only asked him a few questions, Judge."

"Perhaps it was the way you asked them that he objected to," Ezra called out.

"Quite so, Mr Standish," the Judge agreed. Then his mood became serious. "So, did you find out anything else?"

"Apart from the fact he's lying through his teeth y'mean?"

Buck winced at the tracker's forceful statement and then blinked in surprise when the Judge suddenly agreed with him.

"You may well be right, Vin. Did Clayton happen to tell you what time he left to meet Mary for supper?"

"Yeah, around eight thirty."

"Even Ezra agrees with that," Buck put in, but the Judge shook his head.

"That's not what Mary said. She was quite certain that Clayton didn't arrive at the restaurant until nine."

There was a brief silence as the peacekeepers considered the implications of the Judge's comment. It was JD who put that thought into words.

"But it only takes a few minutes to get from the hotel to the restaurant! Where was he?" JD was getting quite animated now. "He must be lying! Why can't we arrest him?"

"What proof do we have?" Travis asked him. "You can't simply arrest someone because he may have been mistaken about the time."

"But he did leave before eight thirty!" Ezra was most insistent on that, remembering hearing a clock somewhere chiming the half hour only a short while later. In fact it was probably the last coherent memory he had of that evening.

"Maybe so, but until we have more evidence I'm afraid you'll have to spend the night here." The Judge saw the brief flicker of dismay on Ezra's face. Although the gambler had not really expected anything less, he was still a little disappointed.

"I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies," the Southerner stated morosely. "At least my present abode offers a touch more comfort than that in Mr Larabee's domicile."

Although he was putting on a brave face, Vin could hear the frustration in his friend's voice. The Judge was well within his rights to hold the gambler overnight but at least now there was sufficient doubt in all their minds to question Clayton's honesty and integrity.

"Reckon it'd be an idea to check the room again," the tracker said. "See if we missed anythin'." He paused and looked pointedly at the Judge. "Figger Ezra outta be there."

Travis raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What good d'you think that will do?"

"Maybe he'll be able to explain things a little more clearly." Vin glanced through the open doorway towards the gambler, seeing the wordless expression of gratitude on his face. The Judge thought carefully for a moment before he made his decision.

"Alright. If you think it'll shed any more light on the case then I have no objections." It was a very relieved Ezra who realised that he owed the Texan a huge debt of thanks for believing in him as Orin Travis handed him a lifeline. "So, gentleman, what now?"

"Waal, I was thinking of heading down to the clinic," Buck began. "I wanna see how Chris is doing."

"I'll come with you," JD put in.

"Vin - what about you? You coming?" The question from Buck was almost conciliatory and the Texan hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"No - ya go ahead. I need to speak to the Judge."

Buck made no reply, but his eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched with annoyance. It seemed that once again Vin Tanner had more important things to do.

"Vin's acting kinda strange, don't y'think?"

The observation from JD brought a scowl to Buck's face. "You noticed, huh?"

"You'd'a thought he'd want to see Chris, wouldn't you?" The ladies man muttered indistinctly, and JD pounced on his lack of response. "Is that what you and he were fighting about when he knocked you flat?"

"Just leave it, kid," Buck growled.

"When I said 'knocked you flat'... I know he surprised you... "

"JD... " This time there was a note of warning in Buck's voice and the young peacekeeper knew he had pushed him far enough so he fell silent.

As they climbed the stairs to the clinic the door was opened, lamplight pooling over the darkened landing and a figure appeared, silhouetted against the glow.

"Josiah - that you?" Nathan called hopefully.

"Nope. Just me and JD," Buck replied, and he heard the exasperated sigh from Nathan as they followed him back inside.

"We thought Josiah was here," JD said as he pushed the door shut.

"No. I ain't seen him since around noon." Nathan sounded exasperateded. He had not realised just how much he relied on the ex-preacher for help until he was not there. "He didn't say he was going anywhere."

JD frowned. "That doesn't sound like Josiah."

"Seems like this odd behaviour is catching," Buck muttered to no-one in particular and JD looked at him sharply, knowing who he was referring to. Nathan stared at both men in confusion, totally puzzled by the remark but he did not ask for an explanation. "So how's Chris?" Buck went on, looking past Nathan.

"About the same, but he's a mite feverish at the moment." The healer sounded weary; since he had told Josiah to go earlier that day he had had no chance of a break.

"Why don't you go get something to eat? Me'n JD'll stay with Chris for a while."

"Waal, I dunno... " Nathan hesitated, reluctant to leave the extremely sick gunslinger even for a short while.

"You'll be no good to Chris if you wear yourself out," Buck told him and he could not understand the flicker of dismay that passed across the healer's face.

"Alright. If you're sure...?"

"Just go!" Buck shooed him away. "We'll be fine."

Once Nathan had grabbed his hat and left, JD took his own hat off and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

"God, Buck - I didn't realise he was this bad." The young peacekeeper's voice was little more than a whisper. He had only seen Chris the previous day and he was shocked at his rapid deterioration.

"He's tough, kid. He'll pull through." Buck dropped a reassuring hand on JD's shoulder, trying to convey a confidence he did not feel himself.

Staring at the ailing man JD thought back to how tough Chris Larabee really was. He had had no intention of jumping the stage at Four Corners when he first came West, but fate decided otherwise. He remembered following Chris and Vin to the cemetery and watching in awe as the two men - strangers yet not strangers - acted as one as they rescued Nathan from the lynch mob. He had never seen frontier justice dealt out so swiftly and efficiently, and he had been proud when he had finally been accepted amongst them. It had not been easy; he could still hear Chris' comment 'Go home, kid', and remember his own anger at being treated like a child but he had proven his worth on numerous occasions and had earned the gunslinger's respect. It was hard to believe that this frail looking man did, and could, scare the hell out of him at times.

"Here." Buck tapped JD lightly on the shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie as he handed him a cup of coffee. The ladies man took a sip of his own before sitting down on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes fixed on the face of his stricken friend. "Did I ever tell you about the time me and Chris tried to steal a church bell?" he said suddenly.

JD laughed. "No!"

Buck smiled and settled himself more comfortably in his chair. "It was just before Chris got married and the two of us were down in Nogales. We'd spent most of the day in the cantina, so by the time we left around midnight, we were pretty... "

"Drunk?"

His friend's smile broadened. "Let's just say we'd celebrated Chris' impending marriage in style! Anyway, as we headed back to the boarding house, ol' Chris stops in the middle of the street and looks up at this church tower. 'Sarah wants a bell for the milk cow and I aim to get her one,' he says. Next thing I know he's climbing up the darn wall to git her the church bell." Buck stopped, his memory going back to the sight of his inebriated friend risking life and limb as he clambered up onto the church roof in an effort to reach the tower.

"So what happened?" JD prompted.

"Waal, of course I had to help him. Couldn't let him have all the fun!" Buck paused and took another sip of his coffee before putting the cup onto the floor. "We eventually got up to the tower. God knows how we didn't break our stupid necks, but we made it somehow. Trouble is we couldn't figger out how to git the thing down! Chris got mad and started shooting at the damn thing. Then he managed to get hold of the rope and started swinging on it!"

"No!" JD exclaimed, half guessing what had happened next.

"'Course by now the bell's clanging loud enough to wake the dead. Everybody comes a-running, thinking the town's being attacked or somethin' and all they see is two drunken gringos making a hell of a noise up in their church tower!" Buck laughed ruefully. "We never did get that bell for Sarah and I ain't never heard a priest swear so much before, ‘cept Josiah of course and he don't count!" The ladies man stopped, sobering as he stared down at the semi-conscious gunslinger again. "I'd give anything to have those times back again," he said softly.

The two men fell silent, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. It was hard to see Chris like this and JD knew that Buck was going through hell as his oldest friend lay desperately ill. It also made Vin's decision not to accompany them seem more incomprehensible. Yes, the mystery over Henry Kirkland's murder had to be solved and solved quickly, but JD could not understand the tracker's apparent reluctance to visit Chris and he could see now why Buck got so angry. They had not realised that almost an hour had passed until Nathan returned, looking a little refreshed.

"Any problems?" the healer asked as he came across and placed his hand on Chris' forehead. The gunslinger stirred slightly at his touch but did not wake up.

"Nope. You'd have heard if there had been. He's barely moved."

"Wish I could say the same about Josiah. Someone told me they'd seen him leave town earlier. I just checked. His horse is gone from the Livery."

"So where the hell's he gone?" Buck was as surprised as Nathan.

"I wish I knew."

"He's acting as strangely as Vin," JD put in.

"And there's another one!" Nathan snapped irritably. "He's plumb wore out! I stopped by the jail to talk to Ezra and found Vin asleep over the desk." The healer gave an exasperated sigh. "I told him he needed to rest, but nobody ever listens to me."

Buck's mouth curved into a wry smile. The only reason Nathan got so angry was because he cared so much. It was part of what him an excellent healer, and his friends would always be grateful for that.

+ + + + + + +

Herbert Harris was a very relieved man when he saw Judge Travis walk through the front door of his hotel, accompanied by the weary and - in his opinion - scruffy-looking Vin Tanner. However, his relief quickly evaporated when he noticed the two men behind them.

"You can't bring him in here!" he exclaimed, pointing his finger at Ezra as he stood next to Buck. "He's a killer!" The Judge saw Vin bristle angrily at that comment and moved quickly to ease the situation.

"That has yet to be proven. At the moment he is just a suspect in this investigation, but right now we need your co-operation." He turned the blustering man around and guided him towards the front desk, his tone placating. "May we have the key to the suite? We need to check a few more things." It was not a request, and Harris knew it. Still scowling at Ezra he handed over the key.

"When am I going to get my room back?" he grumbled. "It's my best suite and I'm losing money!"

"My heart bleeds for you," Buck muttered under his breath and then lapsed into silence as the Judge glared at him.

"Once we've finished and I'm satisfied, you'll be free to carry on as normal." There was a slight edge to Travis' voice as he started to grow tired of the man's complaining. "Now, if you'll excuse us... " The Judge left Harris standing there open-mouthed as he preceded the others up the stairs and unlocked the door to the suite. As Buck followed Vin and the Judge into the room, he realised Ezra had stopped and he turned.

"Ezra? You okay?" he asked. The gambler was pale and his expression haunted as he took a hesitant step forward. His green eyes were dark with remembered confusion and panic and his gaze lingered on the rusty brown stain spread across the rug. "Ezra?" Buck repeated and the younger man visibly shook himself.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," the gambler replied, but he did not sound very convincing.

"Alright, Mr Standish, tell us exactly what you remember." The Judge had seen Ezra's reaction as he entered the room and his tone was a little kinder as he made the request. He had faced enough guilty men in his lifetime to know that the gambler was genuinely shaken. Ezra walked slowly forward, carefully avoiding the blood-stained rug and he pointed at the circular table in the centre of the room.

"That's where we played poker," he began. "Mr Kirkland sat there - " He indicated a position nearer the window. " - and I sat opposite."

"Show me. Boys - " The Judge pointed to two straight backed chairs standing against the far wall. As Buck and Vin put them in place, Travis took the seat previously occupied by his unfortunate friend and motioned Ezra into the other one. "Is that right?" The gambler nodded and Vin stepped forward, moving to stand behind him.

"Where was Clayton?" he asked.

"Clayton?" Ezra glanced around the room, a frown creasing his forehead as he thought hard. Finally his gaze settled on the bureau standing to his left, a decanter and glasses on top of it. "I believe he was over there. He brought the drinks over and... " His voice trailed away as the implication became clear.

"So Clayton poured the drinks." There was just the merest hint of satisfaction in the tracker's voice that helped to make amends for yet another sleepless night.

"But then he left." There was bewilderment in the gambler's voice now. He distinctly remembered seeing the young man leave.

"Could he have come back?" Distasteful as it seemed, Orin Travis was beginning to wonder whether Clayton Kirkland had killed his own father.

"I don't know. Shortly afterwards I felt unwell. All I can remember is the gun going off in my hand."

"So where'd the bullet go?" Buck asked. At such close range it had gone right through Kirkland's body but they had not had the opportunity to search for it. Looking at where the gambler sat, Buck tried to work out where the bullet would have ended up but as he searched the wall next to the window there was no sign of it. "It should be here!" He sounded perplexed as he turned to regard the Southerner. "If Kirkland was sitting there and - "

"No, he wasn't!"

The Judge looked startled at Ezra's sudden exclamation. "What d'you mean?"

"I remember now. A card had fallen on the floor, but when I tried to pick it up I became dizzy and collapsed."

"Where were ya?" Vin asked, finally understanding why the jack of spades had been found beneath Kirkland's corpse.

"About here." Ezra got off his seat and sat down with his back against the easy chair and with a jolt the tracker realised it was the same one that he had found the hip flask under. "Kirkland was crouching in front of me when - " He stopped as the Texan dropped to his knees beside him and stared thoughtfully across the room.

"Well?" the Judge demanded.

Vin pushed himself slowly to his feet. "Yer looking in the wrong place, Buck."

"What d'you mean, the wrong place?" The ladies man glared at him.

"Reckon it'll be lower down."

His curiosity roused now, Ezra scrambled to his feet and moved closer as Buck bent down and ran his fingers along the wall, first under the window sill and then beneath the small table standing in the corner.

"Sonofabitch!" he suddenly exclaimed, and pulled the table away from the wall. Now the Judge got up and stepped forward as Buck drew his knife and used the point to prise the small lump of misshapen lead from the plaster. "So what does this prove?" he asked as he dropped the spent bullet into the Judge's hand.

"It proves that Ezra was telling the truth about the way things happened." Travis put the bullet in his pocket and turned to the gambler. "But you said yourself the gun was in your hand. Are you sure there was nobody else in the room?"

"Maybe somebody put the gun in Ezra's hand." Vin was going to come right out and accuse Clayton but he held back.

"And pulled the trigger?" The Judge did not look convinced.

"Yeah, it's possible." Buck drew his gun and held it out, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. Bringing up his other hand there was still enough room for him to slip his index finger through the guard so one was resting on top of the other. "The Remington's a shade smaller, but it could be done," he finished.

"So I was deliberately framed!" There was an air of indignation in Ezra's voice as the realisation dawned. "I gave him the perfect opportunity."

"Him?" Travis raised an eyebrow in query but the next statement from Vin made them all stop and think.

"Clayton killed his father." To him the motive and opportunity were obvious.

"Henry Kirkland was a very rich man," Ezra agreed, fully aware of the temptations of such wealth. "Avarice can divide and destroy any family."

"I would agree with you except for one small detail," Orin Travis said slowly. "Unless Henry's will states otherwise, all his money and property will go to Catherine."

"Damn!" Buck swore. "So Clayton has nothing to gain, no motive?"

"None that's apparent," the Judge agreed. "But I still think we need to talk to him again."

"Does this mean I am exonerated from all blame, or am I still under arrest?"

Travis gave the Southerner an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Ezra, but for now you'll have to go back to jail. Buck - d'you mind?"

Vin heard the gambler sigh and saw the way his shoulders slumped as Buck shepherded him from the room and he could understand his disappointment. Just when they thought they were close to proving Ezra's innocence, something else blocked their way. However, at least now there were enough doubts in Judge Travis' mind to make him look towards Clayton as a suspect.

"May's well see if Clayton's around," Vin suggested as they followed the other two out.

"Good idea." The Judge locked the door to the suite before accompanying the tracker to the room further along the corridor. Vin thumped loudly on the door, but there was no reply.

"We'll try Catherine's room," the Judge told him, sensing the Texan's mounting frustration. "Maybe she'll know where he's gone."

It simply was not their morning. Catherine Kirkland's room was also unoccupied and as the two men made their way down to the hotel lobby, mainly to check whether anyone had seen them leave, the sound of a gunshot was heard from the street.

Vin's reaction was instinctive. Drawing his sawn off Winchester the tracker took the final two steps in a single bound, flinging himself out of the hotel door with his gun held ready at waist height. He barely managed to avoid the two startled women standing on the boardwalk outside the building and he did not need to follow their shocked gaze to know where the shooting had occurred.

"Ezra!"

His stomach gave a sudden lurch when he saw Buck outside the Sheriffs Office crouching beside the crumpled form of the gambler, and he was running before the Judge was even out of the hotel foyer.

For once Ezra was silent. Buck had spoken to him several times as they headed back towards the jailhouse but he was not really listening to the ladies man as he contemplated the prospect of being locked up once more.

Although Vin was doing his best on his behalf the gambler still could not see a way out of his current predicament. This morning's reconstruction had made it easier for them to see exactly how Ezra's version of events differed from Clayton's but it still had not cleared him completely. Shaking his head, he glanced at Buck when he heard him mention the name 'Chris'.

"I'm sorry - what did you say?"

"All I said was - "

Ezra never did find out what Buck was about to say as a white hot pain seared across his shoulder. He vaguely heard the report of the weapon through the roaring in his ears and he gave a sharp cry as he collapsed against the ladies man.

Buck heard the shot from behind them and then staggered slightly as Ezra slumped against him. He grabbed the gambler as he fell, lowering him down to the boards and drawing his own weapon as the door to the jail was flung open and JD emerged.

"Stay down, kid!" Buck warned as he tried to shield Ezra with his own body, and the young peacekeeper ducked back inside the doorway. As he peered cautiously past Buck all he could see were townsfolk hurrying to get off the street and Vin Tanner arriving at the run.

"Where'd the shot come from?" the Texan demanded, dropping to one knee beside the two men.

"Back there." As the tracker started to get up Buck grabbed his sleeve. "No. You and JD get him inside. I'm going after him." The ladies man was angry. Somebody had just tried to back-shoot Ezra and such a cowardly act went against everything he believed in. He was off before Vin could even think of a reply.

"Watch yourself, Buck!" JD called after him.

As he raced along the boardwalk he almost knocked into Catherine Kirkland as the young woman stepped into his path. She looked nervous and frightened and she pointed along the street as he attempted to go round her.

"I saw him!" she exclaimed. "He went down there."

"Thank you, ma'am," Buck replied gratefully, and headed in the direction she had indicated.

Ezra was sitting on the bunk in a cell and Vin was trying to get the jacket off the feebly protesting gambler when Judge Travis arrived at the jail.

"How is he?" he asked, looking at the Southerner anxiously.

"I'll live," the gambler hissed through gritted teeth, his face pale as he leaned back against the wall. Vin finally got the torn and bloodied jacket off and his shirt ripped open, and he did not even look up at the Judge as he replied.

"JD's fetchin' Nathan, but it coulda been a whole heap worse." There was anger in his tightly controlled words as he used the corner of a blanket to staunch the blood dripping from the deep furrow across Ezra's right shoulder. "Still reckon he's guilty?"

"Did anybody see who it was?" Travis pointedly ignored the sarcastic question from the tracker.

"No - but it has to be Kirkland."

"You don't know that," the Judge replied and this time Vin did look up, blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Well who the hell else wants Ezra dead?" he snapped. "Maybe he heard us talking at the hotel."

The tracker had a point, but Travis was still having a hard time accepting that Clayton Kirkland could be callous enough to kill his own father. However, the list of possibilities was getting shorter and this attempt on Ezra's life was the final proof that someone had deliberately set the gambler up to take the blame.

"I understand what you're saying, but I still need evidence."

"Funny, ya weren't that particular when ya thought it was Ezra." Vin heard the sudden intake of breath from the Judge and realised he might have just overstepped the bounds of prudence.

"Gentleman, when you've quite finished... I find myself in need of some whiskey. I feel a little faint." Vin glanced sharply at the gambler, wondering if it was a ploy to defuse the tense situation but he could see that Ezra was very pale and his hands were trembling.

"There's a bottle in the desk drawer," Vin threw over his shoulder, not moving from his position beside Ezra. As the Judge stepped back out into the office Nathan rushed in, his medical bag in his hand.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Through there," the Judge replied as he found the bottle of liquor and a glass.

Ezra looked up as Nathan stepped into the cell. "I fear I am in need of your services, Mr Jackson," he said, giving a sudden yelp as he tried to sit up straighter.

"Just shut up, Ezra and hold still." The healer pushed Vin aside as he opened his bag and pulled out some clean cloth. "Let's see how bad it is." Vin stepped back to give him room, and then a frown suddenly creased his forehead.

"Who's with Chris?"

"I left JD there, seeing as how Josiah's still not around." Nathan started to clean the blood away from Ezra's wound, carefully checking the messy graze. "Any idea who did this?"

"I believe Mr Tanner has one or two," the Judge said as he stood in the doorway holding the bottle of whiskey.

"I reckon it was Clayton Kirkland."

"Kirkland?" Nathan looked up and shook his head in surprise. "But I've just seen him riding back into town." The healer's comment almost took Vin out of his stride, so convinced was he that Clayton had been behind the attack but he was still determined to confront the man.

"Where'd ya see him?"

"Heading towards the Livery, but - " Nathan paused, seeing he was talking to Vin's back as the Texan hurried out of the jail. "Be careful," he called after him. "I ain't got but the one pair of hands!"

Vin jogged towards the Livery, drawing his sawn off Winchester as he slipped through the corral fence and padded cautiously up to the main doors, listening carefully. At first the only sound from inside was the restless movement of horses but then he paused when he heard a man's voice raised in anger.

"Why the hell did you shoot Standish?"

Vin recognised the voice as Clayton's and his fingers tightened about the grip of his gun as he leaned closer to try and identify the person he was talking to, the person who had just attempted to kill Ezra. He was totally unprepared for the answer.

"You said yourself they were getting too close to the truth," replied Catherine Kirkland. Vin went cold with shock but he forced himself to keep on listening. "I heard them in the suite this morning. He was starting to remember things and he had to be silenced."

"But you should have waited until I got back. We could have worked it out between us."

"I'm tired of waiting, and I'm tired of you."

"What do you mean? Our plan was working. I killed my own father so we could be together. Does the fact that you're carrying my child mean nothing to you?" There was a long pause.

"Can you be so sure it's your baby?" Catherine said.

Vin's head was reeling and he berated himself for being a fool. He had been right about Clayton all along but he had not expected Catherine Kirkland to be involved as well. The motive had been staring them in the face all the time; the young wife and the dutiful son stood to gain everything but now it seemed that Catherine wanted it all for herself.

The tracker had heard enough. In all fairness, the peacekeepers and the Judge had been more than a little distracted by their anxiety over Chris otherwise they would have worked it out a lot sooner but that made little difference now. As he brought his gun up and started to ease the door open he heard Clayton's voice again, but now it held a note of fear.

"Don't, Catherine! Put the gun down!"

"Why should I? Frankly, Clay, you're becoming a liability, and besides - I'm bored with you."

Vin did not need to see inside the barn to know what Catherine Kirkland planned to do next but he was too late to stop her. As he thrust the door open a shot echoed around the stable, startling the horses that were fastened in their stalls. The tracker levelled his Winchester at Catherine as Clayton crumpled to the floor, his life-blood soaking into the straw.

"Drop the gun, ma'am!" the Texan ordered as the woman turned, the weapon held loosely in her fingers.

"But you don't understand. He killed his father! He was going to kill me too!"

If he had not overheard the conversation between them Vin would probably have believed her. Her innocent act was convincing enough to fool most people. However, he was more worried about the gun she still held.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I heard it all. Now drop the gun. I don't wanna have to shoot ya." Even as he said it, Vin realised he had made a mistake. He saw her face change as she tightened her grip on the weapon and he was in no doubt that she was going to shoot. The Texan was moving before the gun went off, dropping into a rolling dive that carried him into an empty stall and he lined up his own Winchester without stopping to think.

The flat bark of the heavier weapon sounded loud in his ears but he still heard Catherine's cry of pain as the bullet sliced across her arm, causing her to drop the revolver. As she sank to her knees Vin climbed slowly to his feet and stepped forward, kicking the gun beyond her reach. As Catherine sobbed with pain the tracker felt physically sick; he had never had to shoot a woman before - especially one who was pregnant - and he hoped he would never have to do it again.

The sound of running footsteps made him turn, his gun at the ready, and then JD appeared in the doorway.

"Vin? You okay?"

"Yeah." The tracker slipped his gun back into the holster and reached down to pick up the one Catherine had dropped. Once he had it safely tucked away he pulled the young woman to her feet, keeping a firm grip on her un-injured arm.

"What's going on?" JD asked. "I heard the shots... " He looked across at Kirkland's body and then glanced at Catherine's tear-streaked face, trying to piece together what had just occurred. When the first shot sounded he had stepped out onto the balcony, his gun half-drawn, but he was very conscious of Nathan's insistence that he stay with Chris. However, when two more shots rang out, one the distinctive report of Vin's weapon, he wasted no more time.

"Find Tiny." Vin ignored the young peacekeeper's question. "Make sure he keeps everyone outta here. Then get back to Chris."

Leaving JD to see to things at the Livery, Vin wrapped his bandana around the woman's bloody arm before marching her out and along the main street towards the jail. He took no notice of the gasps and curious looks thrown in their direction by the townsfolk until he heard his name called and Buck came running up.

"Vin - what the hell happened? Mrs Kirkland, are you alright?" Buck reached out to help her, and the look she gave him was pure venom.

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, and the ladies man stepped back in amazement.

"She killed Clayton." Vin's voice was flat and emotionless. "And she shot Ezra."

"What the hell're you talking about?" Buck was incredulous, thinking that Vin had finally lost his reason.

"Kirkland killed his father. They planned it between them."

The ladies man looked at Vin, seeing his grim expression and then stared at Catherine again. This time he looked beyond the haughty, beautiful exterior, seeing the cruel glint of triumph in her eyes and he shuddered, knowing that the tracker spoke the truth. Neither man said anything else as they continued on to the jail.

Nathan had finished stitching Ezra's shoulder and was just fastening a sling in place when the door opened. The healer glanced up and then blinked in disbelief as Vin escorted Catherine Kirkland through into the other empty cell and sat her down firmly on the bed, bringing a gasp of pain from her lips.

"Catherine, what happened?" The Judge stepped forward anxiously only to find the tracker barring his way.

"Sorry, Judge, the lady's under arrest."

"Arrest? But why...? How...?" Travis did not know what to say as Nathan squeezed past him and placed his bag down on the bed beside Catherine.

"Maybe you'd best take this conversation outside while I see to the lady's injury," he suggested as he reached out to grasp her arm but she shook him off.

"Take your disgusting hands off me!" she spat. "Ah don't need any help from your kind." Her cultured Eastern accent slipped slightly, revealing her true Southern origins and Ezra lurched to his feet and stumbled forward to lean against the bars, a knowing half-smile on his face.

"Why, my dear Miss Laborteaux, you're finally showing your true colours!" The gambler's voice held a drunken slur; Nathan had made sure he had consumed enough of the whiskey to make the stitching bearable and Ezra was more than a little inebriated. Gripping the bars in his left hand the gambler swung around to face Vin, a satisfied smirk on his face as he wagged a finger at the Texan. "See - I told you I was right!" The tracker did not even crack a smile but Buck gave a wry grin as Nathan glared at the gambler.

"Ezra, why don't ya sit down before ya fall down?" Then the healer turned his full attention to Catherine Kirkland. "Ya'd best let me see to that arm, ma'am, 'cos I ain't going nowhere 'til I do."

Leaving Nathan to cope with the sullen woman and the intoxicated gambler Buck followed Vin and the Judge out into the main office. He was eager to know exactly what had happened at the Livery.

Orin Travis sat at the desk and listened with mounting astonishment and shock to what the tracker had to say. It seemed almost impossible to comprehend that his old friend could have been murdered by his own son and at the behest of his wife for simple lust and monetary gain. The fact that Catherine Kirkland had so callously killed her lover and attempted to murder two of the peacekeepers made his blood run cold, and he would make sure that she paid the full price for her despicable treachery.

Buck's reaction was slightly different from that of the Judge. Once the initial shock had passed, a feeling of guilt settled on his shoulders. As he listened to the tracker's toneless account he began to feel a little ashamed that he had doubted Vin's instincts about Ezra. He could also see how disturbed the young Texan was at having to shoot a pregnant woman despite the fact that his own life had been in danger. It would take Vin some time to get over that.

"Buck, I've finished here." Nathan called out a few minutes later and the ladies man took the bunch of keys from the hook on the wall and went through to lock the cell door as the healer came out. "She'll be alright," he told them. "The bullet just grazed her. It looked a lot worse than it was, but I'll check again later. Right now I need to get back to Chris." As he placed his hat on his head he turned to Vin. "Can ya make sure Ezra gets back to his room and rests? I take it he's free to go?" The last question was directed at the Judge, and Travis nodded.

"You go ahead. Buck and I'll sort out what needs to be done about - " He paused, looking through to where the woman still sat, stiff and sullen, her head bowed." - her," he finished, unable even to say her name.

As Nathan left and Vin went to get Ezra, the Judge gave a sigh. One thing was certain - Catherine Kirkland would have to be tried in another town because he knew he would not be able to conduct a fair and impartial trial.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan put his fork down and pushed the plate away, the food barely touched. He was grateful for Inez's thoughtfulness in bringing it to him even though it was gone three in the afternoon but he simply had no appetite.

Chris' condition remained the same and the healer had run out of ideas. None of his drugs or potions made any difference and all he could do was get a few sips of water down the seriously ill gunslinger as he clung tenaciously to life. Nathan glanced briefly at the bed and then rested his elbows on the table, dropping his head into his hands in a gesture of utter despair. He did not even hear the door opening behind him.

"Nathan?"

The healer's head came up as his name was spoken softly, scrambling to his feet and turning to stare in amazement at the person in the doorway.

"Rain! What you doing here, girl?" There was no disguising the pleasure in his voice as the young woman stepped forward, a shy smile on her face.

"I came to help the man who saved my village," she said. "Josiah Sanchez told me of the sickness and I had to come."

"So that's where he went!" Nathan mused as Rain crossed to the bed and placed her hand on Chris' forehead. He was not sure whether she meant himself or Chris as 'the man who saved her village', but he did not care. He was just pleased to see her.

"My people have suffered from a sickness much like this," she told him without looking up. "The spirit wanders far and sometimes it does not come back. Even the strongest warrior cannot always fight this and win."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Nathan sighed. "Nothing I try seems to do any good."

"We have a flower that grows near my village. We call it the Sacred Plant. It is known to cure many illnesses. Perhaps we can use it to help your friend."

The healer gave a mirthless laugh. "Right now I'm willing to try anything. Where do we get this plant?"

"I have it here," Josiah said from behind them, and Nathan turned to see the ex-preacher standing there with a large bundle of flowers in his arms. He placed them on the table and as the healer studied them he realised he had seen them before, growing in abundance out on the plains, the swathes of purple daisy-like flowers brightening up the dry Fall landscape. Rain picked one up and snapped off the stem, holding the root out to Nathan.

"This is the part we use. It must be crushed and then boiled in water for a while." The healer took the root and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the pungent odour.

"If it tastes as bad as it smells we'll never keep it down him!"

"We must try, Nathan," Rain urged, her fingers closing firmly around his arm. Without waiting for an answer the girl began to sort out the things she needed, filling a pan with water and setting it on the stove to boil. Nathan handed over his knife so she could cut the roots after she had washed them and then he pulled Josiah to one side.

"Why didn't y'tell me where ya were going?" he demanded softly, but the ex-preacher grinned at him.

"I thought you could use an extra pair of hands. Besides, there was always the chance that her people might've had something to help."

"Let's hope you're right." Nathan watched Rain for a moment, realising how much he had missed her. "Thank you."

Josiah found the tracker sitting alone at the corner table at the back of the saloon, an empty whiskey glass in front of him. Vin looked up as he slipped into the chair opposite, and the man was shocked by the weariness on the young Texan's face. Vin looked as though he had not slept properly in days and concern and worry had left their marks on his normally carefree face.

"When'd ya get back?" Vin asked, shifting awkwardly in the chair. "Nathan's been looking for ya."

"I went down to the Seminole village and got Rain. Figgered he could use her help."

Josiah went on to tell him about the plant and his face was troubled as he told Vin how they had tried to get Chris to swallow the infusion. However, just as Nathan had feared, the bitter taste of the potion was too much for the gunslinger to cope with and they were unable to keep it down him.

"We're losing him, Josiah." The raw emotion in Vin's whispered statement cut through Josiah like a knife, and the big man had to dig deep to find the right words.

"Are you giving up on him that easily? Chris is a fighter and that counts for a lot. You've got to have faith."

The tracker shook his head. "I dunno. I ain't had much time for God since my ma died."

"There's more than one kind of faith, my friend." Josiah reached out and touched the younger man lightly on the chest. "You've got to have faith of the heart."

The Texan was silent for a long moment as he thought about Josiah's words and he forced a slight smile to his lips.

"Yer a good man, Josiah," he said at length.

"Not always," the ex-preacher countered. "But I am a good listener. Now - I'm gonna get some food and then you can tell me what happened today. Then maybe afterwards we'll go back to the clinic."

Vin nodded in agreement. He had intended to check on Chris earlier, but too much had happened and he hadn't had the opportunity. Now, with Ezra's situation resolved and the murder cleared up, all he could think about was the gunslinger and he needed to see him.

The distant murmur of voices started to filter through his consciousness and Chris Larabee slowly forced his eyes open. For a moment he could not remember where he was but the disorientation faded away as he realised he was in Nathan's clinic. The gunslinger had no idea how long he had been ill but judging by the way he felt it had been a considerable time. Every part of him hurt, his chest most of all, and the tightness across his ribs made it impossible to draw a steady breath.

He shifted slightly, trying to get a little more comfortable but his vision blurred and wavered and his stomach gave a queasy roll as the nausea swooped down on him once more. The groan that came from his lips sounded weak and strained but it brought an immediate response from the other two in the room.

"Chris?"

The gunslinger turned his head at the sound of Nathan's voice and he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Panic flared in the hazel eyes as he realised he could not draw a breath and he remembered the terrifying sensation of nothingness when it had happened before.

"Vin. Gimme a hand here." The healer could see the fear in Chris' eyes and he knew what was happening, and there was only one way to remedy it. As the tracker slipped round to the other side of the bed and helped Chris to sit up Nathan pushed the gunslinger forward and started to pound him on the back.

"No, stop!" Chris moaned breathlessly, his whole body shaking under the healer's powerful hand.

"What the hell're ya doing?" Vin reached out and grasped Nathan's right wrist as the healer pulled his hand back again. The Texan could see the pain etched on Chris' face and he could feel the gunslinger's body rocking with each blow, and he could not understand why Nathan was causing the man more suffering.

"It's gotta be done," the healer explained as he wrenched his arm from Vin's grip. "I need to clear his lungs. Jus' hold him tight!"

Reluctantly the tracker complied but he felt every resounding thump as if it were happening to him.

Chris would not have believed that he could hurt any more than he already did but Nathan's drastic actions brought tears to his eyes. He cursed feebly and tried to pull out of the tracker's firm grip but to no avail. The gunslinger could feel the pressure building in his lungs, a painful force that only had one outlet, and his muscles tensed as something started to shift in his chest.

Seeing the grimace on his friend's face Nathan stopped what he was doing and reached for a basin just as Chris began to choke. Violent heaves shook the man's thin frame and Vin turned a worried face to the healer.

"Do summat, Nathan!"

"He's gotta bring it up." Nathan knew that what he was doing and Chris' reaction was exactly what it should be but to the tracker it simply seemed too barbaric. He saw Vin blanch as the gunslinger coughed up the large amount of green-grey phlegm which had been hindering his breathing. Nathan's painful but neccessary actions had dislodged it once more and he knew that it would probably not be the last time.

Vin took a deep breath to steady his own queasy stomach as Nathan whisked the basin away and he felt Chris sag back against him as the gunslinger drew in great gulps of air. The hazel eyes were almost closed as the tracker continued to hold him, fighting down the fear that tore at his insides. He had seen Chris drunk before and he had seen him injured but this debilitating illness was something neither he nor Nathan had any control over and it terrified him.

"..... hurts." The whispered word was barely audible but Vin heard it. He heard it and went cold. For Chris to admit to any kind of pain was unusual and it meant that his suffering was very bad.

"I know, pard." The young Texan was oblivious to Nathan's presence as he pulled the gunslinger closer, his left hand coming up to touch Chris' dark blond hair. As his fingers toyed absently with the sweat-damp locks Vin closed his eyes briefly as he offered up a silent prayer to every Spirit that he believed in. As Chris' breathing steadied the tracker became aware of the soft chink of wood against stone, and he glanced across the room to where Nathan was crushing something with his mortar and pestle.

"What'cha doin'?" he asked curiously.

"I'm making a mustard poultice," the healer explained, placing a wide strip of wet muslin on the table in front of him. Pouring some boiling water over the ground mustard seeds he mixed it into a paste and spread it on one half of the cloth. "It'll help ease the pain," he said as he folded the material and carefully carried it over to the bed.

"Y'hear that, Chris?" Vin murmured in the gunslinger's ear. He knew that his friend was still awake despite having his eyes closed and he wanted him to know that Nathan was doing his best.

"Ya'd best hang on to him," Nathan warned. "This is gonna sting some."

Of the three of them only Nathan was really prepared for the reaction as he pressed the poultice to Chris' chest. The gunslinger's eyes snapped open and he screamed with pain as the heat seared his skin, jerking convulsively in Vin's grasp as a string of obsenities tumbled from his lips.

"Jeez, Nathan - take it off!" Vin yelled, snatching at the steaming cloth as he desperately held onto Chris with his other hand, but the healer knocked his fingers away.

"It's gotta stay on a little longer t'do any good." Nathan knew how painful the treatment was; Chris' eyes were tightly closed now and his hands were clenched as he fought against the restraining arms and Vin cursed softly, his face taut with shared agony as he held onto his friend.

Nathan kept the poultice in place for a full minute before removing it and he winced in sympathy at the reddened skin across the gunslinger's chest. He wiped a damp cloth over Chris' sweaty brow as the gunslinger lay limp in Vin's arms, barely aware of what was going on around him.

"It had t'be done, Vin," he told the Texan and the tracker gave him a tight nod. Vin knew that the healer was doing all he could to help Chris. He just was not prepared for how distressing the treatment would be.

"Vin?"

"I'm still here," the tracker replied as Chris groaned his name. "Just rest." Vin pulled the cover back up to keep the gunslinger warm, wrapping his arms tightly around the trembling body until he was certain he had drifted off to sleep once more.

As Nathan busied himself clearing everything away Vin found his own eyelids getting heavy. He felt physically and emotionally drained as he wondered how this was all going to end.

It was just before midnight when Nathan finally arrived back at the clinic.

First of all he had checked on Ezra, putting a fresh bandage on his shoulder and leaving some liniment for his ankle, and now the gambler was sleeping peacefully in his own room above the saloon - his first real rest since he had been framed for murder.

However, Catherine Kirkland was a different matter. She was stubbornly refusing to eat anything, but had at least reluctantly consented to have her arm re-dressed. Judge Travis had arranged for her to be transferred to the Sheriff's office at Eagle Bend to await her trial, and although he would not be presiding at the hearing, he was determined to be present and see that justice was done.

As Nathan wearily climbed the last few steps and walked round to the door of the clinic, it opened and Josiah's tall figure emerged.

"Vin still here?" the healer enquired and the ex-preacher nodded.

"He won't leave."

Nathan sighed. The tracker had remained at Chris' bedside all afternoon and into the evening and it would have taken a miracle to prise him away from the sick man. Unfortunately, Nathan did not believe that that miracle was going to happen. After the first attempt to get the plant infusion down Chris had failed he and Rain had tried again, this time flavouring the bitter liquid with a little fruit juice. The result had been the same and the gunslinger had lapsed back into his semi-conscious state, his breathing growing ever more erratic. Glancing up at Josiah's strained face, he clapped a hand on the big man's shoulder.

"Why don't you go and get some sleep, my friend. It's been a long day."

"And the night will be even longer," the ex-preacher intoned. "For all of us."

After he had gone, Nathan hesitated for a moment before entering the clinic. The despair he felt at his inability to help Chris was like a physical weight on his shoulders and he did not know which way to turn. Josiah had his faith to sustain him, but where would he find his strength? Running a hand over his face, the healer took a deep breath and stepped inside, his gaze immediately settling on the hunched figure sitting beside the bed.

"Vin?" he called. The tracker did not look up.

"I ain't leaving, Nathan so don't waste ya breath." The healer gave a wry smile and closed the door softly behind him before crossing over to the bed.

"Didn't figger you would." He reached for Chris' slack wrist, his face creased in a worried frown when he felt the unsteady beat, and then he picked up his stethoscope and placed it against the gunslinger's chest. Nathan could still hear the fluid bubbling in the man's lungs despite the mustard poultice he had applied earlier and his painful struggle to breathe was frightening to watch. The healer ripped the instrument from his ears and threw it angrily down on the table.

"That stuff you gave him hasn't done any good, has it?"

There was a distinct note of accusation in the tracker's voice and Nathan felt slightly annoyed at his words, but he curbed his temper when he glanced at Vin's anguished expression.

"It might if I could get any down him," he replied, rubbing absently at his forehead. He could feel the pressure building up behind his eyes and realised that soon it would develop into a full blown headache.

"Get some rest, Nathan," Vin said. "There's no sense us both sitting here. I ain't about to go nowhere."

The healer looked long and hard at the tracker, seeing the utter fatigue and despair on the younger man's face. Vin was the one who had shouldered the burden of the last few days; Chris' illness and the murder investigation had been a heavy load to carry, and Nathan knew he was worn out, but he recognised the determined set of his shoulders and realised there was no point in arguing with him.

"Alright," he relented. "But only if ya promise t'wake me in a coupla hours and then ya get some sleep y'self." The Texan made no reply. "Vin?"

"I hear ya, Nathan," the other answered.

"Y'mind what I say," the healer said as he walked over to his small room. He paused momentarily at the door and glanced back at the tracker, wondering how long his friend was prepared to sit there - knowing Vin it be would as long as he possibly could. Shaking his head, Nathan stepped into the next room and started to take off his jacket, and then stopped and blinked with surprise. His tiredness and the nagging ache in his head had pushed everything else out of his mind and he had almost forgotten that Rain had arrived in the afternoon. He smiled as he removed his coat and went over to the bed, sitting down on the edge to take off his boots. Turning around he leaned over and gave the sleeping woman a light kiss on the forehead, but she merely sighed and rolled over and settled down with her back towards him. Nathan smiled again and lay back on top of the blankets, his arms folded behind his head. Seconds later, he was fast asleep.

Outside in the main room, Vin shifted slightly in the hard chair, trying to find a more comfortable position in which to sit but to no avail. His shoulders and back were aching and his eyes felt gritty and were stinging with weariness. He rubbed at them, the heels of his hands pressing in hard but it brought no relief. Glancing down at the still form of his friend he wondered if Chris was even aware that he was there. It did not matter anyway; as he had told Nathan there was nowhere else he was prepared to be right at this moment. Vin sat quietly, watching and listening to the gunslinger's laboured breathing, afraid that at any minute the rise and fall of his friend's chest would cease. He almost willed each breath to happen - in and out, in and out. Strange as it seemed, after all the years of relying on no-one but himself, the tracker could not contemplate life without Chris by his side - not now, not ever. Hell, he might as well turn himself in to the sheriff at Tascosa and get the sham of a trial over with. There would be no point going on.

'Vin?'

The tracker jerked awake with a start as he heard his name, unaware that he even fallen asleep and cursing himself for doing so. He looked down immediately at Chris but was surprised to notice that the gunslinger had not stirred. Visibly shaking himself Vin climbed stiffly to his feet and walked over to the stove in an effort to stretch his cramped muscles. He picked up the nearly cold coffee pot and considered making a fresh brew but then something stopped him.

"V... Vin?"

The tracker reached the bed in two strides and sat down, a faint smile on his face.

"I'm right here, cowboy." Chris' hazel eyes looked huge in his gaunt face and his lips were cracked and pale. He seemed to be trying to say something, although the effort was almost too much for him. "What is it, pard?" Vin urged gently.

"Th... thirsty," the sick man forced out at length, his voice a rasping whisper. Vin poured some water into a cup and slipped his left arm around the gunslinger's lean shoulders, lifting him higher as he put it to his mouth. Much of the liquid trickled down Chris' chin but he managed to swallow a few sips and nodded gratefully as it eased his sore throat.

"W... where's Nathan?" The tracker put down the cup, and picked up a cloth to wipe his friend's mouth and chin.

"Asleep.'Fraid ya'll have to put up wit' me fer a while." He tried to keep his tone light but it felt as if someone was twisting a knife in his gut as he watched Chris struggle to breath.

"Least you're... not trying to f... force that poison down my throat," the gunslinger wheezed. Vin gave a thin smile, grateful that his friend still had not lost his dry sense of humour but then he went cold as Chris started to cough violently. The Texan pulled him closer, easing him back against his chest as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He laid his free hand lightly on the man's dark blond head, feeling every spasm that shook his thin frame as deeply as Chris did. When they finally ceased, the gunslinger lay heavily against him gasping for air. Vin waited, holding his friend in a firm grip until he finally caught his breath.

"D'ya want me to get Nathan?" he asked softly.

"N... no," Chris breathed. "Stay."

Vin shifted further onto the bed and dropped his right hand to encircle his friend in a protective embrace. The gunslinger sighed and lay quietly in his arms for several long minutes until Vin thought he had drifted off to sleep but then he spoke again.

"Vin? Have y'ever... given any thought as to w... where you want to be... buried?" The tracker had closed his eyes wearily when Chris had gone silent but now they flew open in shock and his heart started pounding with fear. "I'd like to be w... with my f... family," his friend went on, his voice slightly muffled as he leaned comfortably against the Texan. "Can you see to that for me?"

"Chris - don't!" Vin replied hoarsely, his words catching in his throat but the gunslinger was not finished.

"Never figgered I'd die like this," he whispered. "Always hoped f... for a nice clean bullet to the he... heart." The gunslinger broke off and Vin felt his body tense as his breathing quickened. "I'm scared, Vin," he admitted, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. "I don't want to die like this!"

The tracker's blue eyes blurred with tears at Chris' anguished tone and he pulled him closer. In all the time he had known Chris Larabee the gunslinger had never been frightened of anything - or if he had he had not admitted it, not even to the tracker. The heart-wrenching admission from the man had touched Vin's soul, searing it like a hot brand, and he dropped his chin to rest gently on his friend's sweat-damp shoulder, snatching greedily at the physical contact.

"Y'ain't gonna die, Chris," he said fiercely. "Ain't gonna let ya." The older man gave a harsh laugh.

"... thought only Josiah... played... God? 'Sides, don't... think there's m... much choice. I left m... my family t'die. I shoulda... been there to... save 'em," he continued breathlessly, forcing his words out before his courage deserted him completely. "Mebbe this... is payback for... what I... done."

"That's crazy talk!" the tracker stated vehemently. "Weren't y'fault!"

"... done a... lot a bad th... things in my life. Killed a lot o' p... people." Chris ignored his friend's comment as he carried on. "Probably going s... straight to Hell... " His words trailed away with a gasping moan and Vin felt him relax as he began to slide from his grip, his head falling limply against his chest.

"Chris?" he called, suddenly alarmed when there was no response. "Don't ya do this to me, cowboy!" The tracker began to shake his friend urgently. "Chris! Damn ya, Larabee, breathe!"

Vin's first impulse was to yell for Nathan but then he heard the gunslinger take another rasping wheeze and he gave a gasp of relief as Chris moved feebly in his arms. Then he almost leapt out of his skin as his friend's left hand reached out and closed about his wrist.

"Don't leave me, Vin." Chris' voice was barely a whisper. "I don't want to die alone."

'Grown men don't cry.'

Vin did not know where he had heard the phrase - it might have been something his mother had once said to him as a child - but he was about to make a lie of it. The tears in the Texan's eyes finally started to trickle down his cheeks at Chris' last plea and he was glad that his friend could not see his face. He felt the gunslinger's grip slacken on his arm as he sank into unconsciousness, but this time he did not try to rouse him.

Tired and wrung out with emotion, Vin eased his dying friend into a more comfortable position in his embrace and settled back to wait for morning.

PART 3

Nathan opened his eyes and turned over, a faint smile curving his lips as he studied the soft, relaxed features of the young woman lying in the bed next to him. For a brief moment his cares and worries drifted away but then a frown creased his face as he realised that the room was lighter, and he glanced up suspiciously at the window.

"Dammit, Vin!" he cursed softly as he swung his legs off the bed. Pulling on his boots he silently berated the tracker for once again ignoring his words. "Two hours," he muttered angrily. "He never listens."

Careful not to disturb Rain he slipped out of the room, ready to brush aside any excuse the tracker might give for not waking him, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. Vin was no longer sitting on the chair beside the bed; he was perched on the edge of the mattress with his right foot just touching the floor as he leaned back, his head resting against the wall. His arms were still wrapped around the unmoving form of Chris Larabee, holding him tightly against his chest so the gunslinger's dark blond head rested against the hollow of his left shoulder. Despite his uncomfortable position Vin had managed to get some sleep, and the healer could not help smiling at the image his two tough friends presented but it clearly showed the bond of affection between them.

Then Nathan stepped closer and took a clearer look at Vin's face and his blood suddenly ran cold. Even asleep the Texan's eyes were red-rimmed and the telltale tracks of dried tears were evident on his cheeks, and Nathan realised that he could no longer hear the painful wheezing as Chris struggled to draw breath.

"Dear Lord - no!" The healer's sense of failure was absolute; sometime during the night, whilst he slept in the next room, Chris Larabee had quietly slipped away. Moving hesitantly, not wanting to wake the obviously grieving tracker but needing to check for himself, Nathan cautiously reached out and placed his fingers against the side of the gunslinger's neck. Even before he detected the faint pulse beating there he almost recoiled in surprise when his fingers encountered warm flesh.

Nathan's relief was almost palpable and he closed his eyes briefly, offering up a silent prayer of thanks. Suddenly he had the unnerving feeling that he was being watched and he looked up slowly, dark eyes meeting a haunted blue gaze.

"Nathan?" The tracker's voice was strained and a little hoarse but he did not move nor relinquish his grip on the gunslinger. The healer was not sure what Vin wanted to know but he had to put his own relief into words.

"He's still breathing." Nathan slumped into the empty chair and regarded the Texan anxiously, wondering what had caused his undeniable distress. "Are you alright?"

Vin ignored the question about his own well being, Nathan's words forcing him to remember those terrifying moments in the early hours when he thought he had lost Chris.

"There were a coupla times I didn't think he was," the tracker admitted, his voice low and anguished and he dropped his gaze, blinking angrily as the tears threatened again. There was a brief silence and then Nathan reached out to grasp the Texan's shoulder.

"Vin, I - " The healer stopped, reluctant to continue and Vin glanced up at him, his eyes narrowing slightly in accusation.

"It's happened before, ain't it?"

The healer nodded. "It was when ya brought Ezra back. That's why I sent JD to fetch ya."

"Dammit, Nathan - why didn't ya tell me?" Vin whispered.

"Would it've made any difference?"

Vin had no answer to that. Lowering his head again so his chin was just brushing the gunslinger's hair, the tracker was silent as he watched the almost imperceptible movement of Chris' chest.

"He's dying, ain't he?" he said finally without looking up, and his voice broke as he unconsciously tightened his grip on his friend. The healer was almost moved to tears himself as he regarded the two men.

"I'm sorry, Vin. He's too weak to fight it any more. It's only a matter of time." The finality in Nathan's words ignited a tiny spark of anger in the tracker - not towards the healer but at the apparent senseless waste of Chris' life.

"Y'can't jus' give up on him! There's gotta be something else ya can do." There was no hint of accusation in the Texan's voice now, only forlorn desperation.

Nathan shook his head, unable to meet his gaze. "Rain's medicine was my last hope. I think it might've worked, too, if he could only keep it down."

"There's no other way?"

"If there was don't y'think I'd - " Nathan suddenly broke off, and was thoughtful for a moment. Vin saw his expression change and he grasped at it like a thirsty man reaching for a canteen of cool water.

"What?" he demanded eagerly.

"If I only had a syringe... " Nathan nodded to himself, his mind already considering the possibility. "Yes, yes... I think that'd work," he continued, almost to himself.

"A what?"

"A syringe. It's a glass and metal tube about so long." The healer held his fingers apart to indicate the size. "Its got a hollow needle on the end - no, wait. There's a picture in one of my books." Nathan took the leather bound volume off the shelf and thumbed through it, his face eager when he found the drawing. "There," he said, holding the book out to Vin.

"Y'ever use one?" the tracker asked, eying the strange looking instrument curiously.

"No, but I saw them used plenty o'times during the War."

"And this'd work?"

"It should do."

"So where can we get one?" The Texan sounded more optimistic now and Nathan hoped he was not just offering Vin a hollow promise but he kept that thought to himself.

"I'll need to wire the nearest towns and see if any of the doctor's have one to spare," the healer stated.

"That'll take hours!" There was bitter disappointment in Vin's words.

"I'll go and rouse Charley now," Nathan said, disappearing back into his room before Vin could protest anymore. When he came back out with his jacket and hat the tracker was staring down at Chris again. He stepped over to the bed and spoke quietly to the Texan.

"Why don't ya lay him down now and make some fresh coffee while I'm gone?"

Vin shook his head slowly. "I dunno," he said reluctantly, unable to admit - even to Nathan - that it was irrational fear that kept him holding on. He was scared that if he let go of Chris now the gunslinger would simply give up.

"Come on - he'll be more comfortable." Nathan could sense why Vin was so hesitant but he gave him no choice. Reaching forward, the healer straightened the pillows and gently eased him out of the tracker's grasp. Vin winced as pressure was taken off of his left arm and the feeling began to creep back into it but as Nathan settled the gunslinger down Chris gave a soft moan of protest as the contact was broken.

Vin waited to see whether Chris was about to wake up, but apart from that one faint groan he remained unconscious. The tracker climbed slowly to his feet, giving a stifled yelp as cramped and stiffened muscles protested sharply.

"Vin? Y'okay?" the healer asked, seeing the grimace of pain on the younger man's face.

"Yeah. Reckon I've been sittin' long enough." Vin walked across to the stove and opened the door, poking the fire into life. "Y'go an' haul Charley's butt out o'bed and get those wires sent."

"Alright. I won't be long."

Several hours later Nathan's clinic resembled a council of war, with Vin and Buck the two main protagonists. Rain sat silently at Chris' bedside while Nathan changed the dressing on Ezra's shoulder.

The gambler was unusually subdued; he had slept soundly through the night and, rather than wait for Nathan to come to him, he had gone to the clinic under the pretext of having his bandage changed. In actual fact his main reason for going was to see Chris. He had not seen the gunslinger since before his collapse and he had been stunned into silence by Chris' condition, finally understanding why Vin had been so upset.

Buck had arrived shortly after Ezra, clutching the replies to some of the messages that Nathan had sent earlier, and the news was not good. Only one town doctor had a syringe that he was willing to part with but the distance involved meant it would probably be too late for Chris.

"But where is Silver Creek?" Ezra asked, wincing as Nathan checked his stitches.

"It's at least four days ride there and back," Buck replied, his tone frustrated and angry at the helplessness of the situation.

"Chris ain't got four days." Nathan's comment just confirmed their worst fears, and an uneasy silence fell on the room.

"I can make it in less than two."

Three heads turned and looked in disbelief at the tracker but it was Buck who gave a derisive snort of amusement.

"What y'gonna do - fly?"

Vin totally ignored the sarcastic question and instead directed his next comment to Rain, much to the confusion of the three men.

"I'll need me the right kind of horses, ma'am."

The girl looked up at him and nodded. "My people have what you need. Ask Tastanagi. He will not refuse you."

"What the hell're you talking about?" Buck demanded, hands on hips.

"Yes, can you please explain what you mean, Mr Tanner?" Ezra requested, sounding a little baffled.

"An Indian relay!" Nathan snapped his fingers. "That'll be quicker alright."

The method Vin proposed to use would be much faster as the healer had quite rightly pointed out. By using three horses that were trained to run together - a practise used by many Indian tribes for covering long distances in a short space of time - a single rider could cut a journey in half by changing mounts en route. However, this method of travel placed a great strain on a fit rider and Vin was far from that at the moment, a fact that Buck was fully aware of.

"Dammit, Vin, all you're gonna do is kill yourself like that!" the ladies man exploded.

"What d'ya suggest? We sit here and watch him die? I ain't about to do that!" Vin was angry now and he took a step towards Buck, only stopping when Nathan barred his way.

"You tell him, Nathan. He's crazy!" To his amazement, the healer shook his head.

"It's the only chance Chris's got."

"Fine! Then I'll do it." Buck could see the reason in Nathan's words but he was not about to concede the fight.

"With respect, Mr Wilmington, Vin is younger and lighter, and I believe his riding skills surpass your own." Ezra's observation drew a furious glare from the ladies man, and the Southerner subsided into silence.

"Well, I guess I'm not needed round here then!" With that Buck turned and stalked out, only just refraining from slamming the door behind him.

"Buck, I didn't mean... " Ezra's apology trailed off and he glanced sheepishly at the healer.

"Best let him go. He's hurting more than he's letting on," Nathan said quietly. "It's just his way of dealing with it." Then he turned to Vin. "But he's right, y'know. Yer hardly in a fit state to do this. Ya've barely slept or eaten and yer exhausted."

"I know. But I need to do it, Nathan." Vin stared at the healer, almost defying him to stop him, but Nathan just sighed. He had seen the depths of the tracker's emotions, and he could not deny him this one final chance to help Chris.

"Alright. I'll send a reply to the doctor in Silver Creek and tell him yer on yer way."

Buck had calmed down a little by the time he reached the Sheriffs Office.

As he pushed the door open JD looked up from the stove, and then poured Buck a cup of coffee as the ladies man slumped in a chair.

"Something wrong?" the young peacekeeper asked as his friend sat there scowling. Buck took the drink, too distracted to reply at first but then he glanced at JD and sighed.

"No. Yes." Which was it? "No," he decided finally, and meant it. It was not that he was angry at Vin - hell, the Texan had pissed him off so many times in the past that he was almost becoming immune to it! - but it was his own worry about Chris that was making him feel and react the way he did.

"How's Chris?"

"Still hanging on but Nathan's had an idea." He went on to explain to JD about the syringe and Vin's gruelling ride to obtain it. To his surprise and dismay the young man seemed quite enthusiastic about the prospect.

"Well that's good, isn't it? Vin's the best person to do it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid." Buck sounded decidedly aggrieved. He thought at least JD would take his side. "I could have done it just as easily," he stated defiantly.

"Have you ever ridden a three horse relay before?"

"Waal - no. But we don't know that Vin has either."

JD was silent for a moment, frowning as he thought about Buck's words. He simply could not understand why the ladies man was so bothered by Vin's actions. There was something not quite right.

"What is it with you and Vin?" he suddenly asked.

"What d'you mean?" Buck was immediately on the defensive.

"It's almost like you're jealous of him." He paused as the ladies man gave a guilty start and looked away. "You are, aren't you?" JD could not help smiling, delighted at having caught his friend out.

"Nonsense! It's just that me and Chris... y'know?"

"You were his best friend until Vin came along." The young peacekeeper could finally see the root of the problem but it was a problem of Buck's own making. "Well, you're still his best friend, but you're also mine. It's not against the law to have more than one best friend, is it?"

There Buck had it. Sometimes JD's straightforward views made everything seem a lot clearer. He had never thought about it like that before, and he wondered whether Chris had ever considered JD a threat to his friendship with Buck.

"Y'know, kid - sometimes you're too damn smart for your own good." The ladies man smiled as he spoke, his earlier bad temper disappearing. He was beginning to realise that he had been acting a little foolish, and it had taken the youngest of them to point it out. Sitting straighter in the chair Buck started to leaf through the papers on the desk. There was the little matter of Catherine Kirkland's transfer to be dealt with, and Orin Travis wanted it done as soon as possible. It would at least give him something constructive to do to distract himself from the worry over Chris. "Alright, where's that paperwork the Judge wanted sorted out?"

It had taken Vin less than an hour to prepare for the journey. Knowing that time was of the essence he had stripped his saddle down to the bare minimum, leaving behind everything that was not necessary. He had even left his sawn-off Winchester at the jail, carrying only his belt knife and Chris' revolver to save on weight. He did not need to worry about his gelding's bridle; the ponies at the village would have only light hackamores to guide them.

Folded in his pants pocket was the reply that Nathan had received from the doctor in Silver Creek, and Orin Travis had pulled a few hefty strings, wiring the Sheriff to ensure that Vin had the pick of the best horses for the return ride. It was a little after nine o'clock as the tracker fastened his mount to the corral fence and climbed the stairs to the clinic. There was one more thing he had to do before he left.

"Ya ready?"

Nathan was standing on the top balcony as he came up the steps, and the Texan nodded.

"Yeah. Gimme a minute," Vin said softly and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Chris had not stirred since he and Nathan had laid him back down; if anything his breathing seemed even shallower and for a brief moment the tracker questioned his decision to make this ride. Then he reached down inside his shirt and pulled out the small beaded medicine pouch that he wore around his neck. Josiah had told him he needed to have faith, and this talisman was something he believed in.

Taking it off, he leaned over the bed and slipped the plaited thong over Chris' head, easing it down until the pouch rested over his heart. He placed his hand over it for a moment, feeling the faint beat of the gunslinger's life beneath his palm.

"Stay with me, Chris," he whispered. "I need ya to be here when I get back."

There was an air of calm acceptance and determination about Vin now as he gazed at the gunslinger's pallid face. There was nothing else Nathan could do for him; Chris' fate was in his hands and that was something he knew a lot about. It was fate that brought them together and nothing less would tear them apart.

Nathan glanced at him as he came back outside but he did not speak, just held out his hand.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Vin told him, returning the firm grasp.

"I know ya will. Just take care."

Josiah was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs and the big man held out the reins of the black gelding before gripping his shoulder fiercely.

"God speed, my friend," he said as Vin swung into the saddle. The tracker threw a final look up at the clinic before turning his horse down along the main street. As he trotted past the jail he caught sight of Buck standing just outside the door watching him and he felt a twinge of relief as the ladies man tipped his hat at him, wishing him good luck.

Setting heels to the black, he was cantering before he was even out of town.

Vin frowned as he stared long and hard at the three ponies being paraded before him. They were small and wiry with rough coats and thin manes and tails, and not one of them could have been described as nice-looking.

"Will they suit your purpose?" Tastanagi asked as he stood beside the young Texan, waiting patiently for his response.

"Hell yes!"

The tracker was not about to overstep the bounds of friendship by asking where the old chief had acquired the Comanche war relay but they were perfect for what he needed to do. Small and wiry the animals might be but they were powerfully muscled in the right places and would stay all day, and they had been trained well to run together. As Vin placed his saddle on the back of the first horse, a washed-out roan, he felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude for these people. There had been no hesitation and no questions asked when he had arrived and made his request, and even his own gelding had been fed and watered and looked after like one of their own.

"It is a difficult journey you make," Tastanagi went on as the tracker made the final adjustments to his saddle.

"I know, but my friend will die otherwise."

"He has a warrior's heart, but sometimes even that needs a little help." The old man gripped Vin's forearm in farewell and then handed him a small hide-wrapped package. "The Great Spirit will watch over you, but this will sustain you on your journey."

Vin tucked the package safely inside his shirt as he nodded.

"Thank you. A-ho."

Tastanagi's words lingered in Vin's mind long after he had ridden from the village. Somehow invoking the Great Spirit seemed wholly appropriate when it was said in the same breath as Chris Larabee.

There was a hesitant knock on the door, and Rain got up from her seat beside Chris Larabee's bed to see who the caller was.

"Oh! I'm sorry... I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Please, Mrs Travis, come in." The girl stepped back and allowed Mary to enter, noticing the way the blonde woman looked around anxiously.

"Where's Nathan? I thought he'd be here."

"He is sleeping while I watch," Rain explained, and Mary felt a ridiculous twinge of jealousy at her words.

"I see. Is there anything I can do?"

Despite her cool exterior Rain could see that the older woman was desperately worried. It showed in her eyes as she stared past her at the unconscious form of the gunslinger and the girl indicated the chair she had just vacated.

"Do you wish to sit with him for a while?"

"No, I just.... I needed to check. I won't stay." Mary was a little flustered; she did not know Rain that well and she found her frankness and self-assurance a little disconcerting. She did not want to go but she was not sure if she would feel comfortable staying.

"Please. I think he would like that."

Mary glanced at her sharply but there was no guile on Rain's face; the girl was simply speaking the truth as she saw it.

"Alright, just for a while." Mary slipped into the chair as Rain went around the other side and perched on another chair opposite. "Does he still have a fever?" the blonde woman asked, using the question as an excuse to place her fingers lightly against the gunslinger's cheek. Her eyes misted over as she felt the roughness of Chris' unshaven skin, and it was almost a full minute before she drew her hand away, suddenly aware that she was being watched.

"Why have you never told him how you feel?" Rain asked, her dark eyes full of sympathy.

"I don't know what you mean," Mary replied quickly, her cheeks flushing.

"It is obvious that you have a great affection for him."

The older woman gave a tight smile as she struggled to compose herself. "I think a great deal of all of them," she countered. "They've done a lot of good in this town."

"But with Chris it is different, yes?"

Mary blinked in surprise and she could feel her anger starting to rise at this young woman's presumptuous comments.

"You're very direct, aren't you?"

Rain shrugged. "My people believe in speaking honestly about their feelings for each other."

"Does that include Nathan?" The words were out before Mary thought about them and she was amazed at her own boldness but the girl took no offence.

"Nathan knows exactly how I feel," she replied, a smile on her lips. In the face of such honesty Mary's resolve began to crumble.

"I... don't know how to," she admitted hesitantly. "And now it might be too late." Rain leaned forward and touched Mary's hand and the older woman clasped it in sudden friendship.

"It is never too late to speak from the heart. Vin will be back soon and my medicine will work."

Mary sighed, holding tightly to the girl's hand for reassurance. "I wish I had your faith and courage."

"Courage comes from within. Whatever happens he would want you to be strong."

There was nothing more to be said, and the two women sat in companionable silence for several minutes until they heard the sound of movement from Nathan's room, and the door opened as the healer emerged yawning and stretching.

"Mary! I didn't expect to see ya this late."

"We have been talking," Rain told him, catching Mary's eye and seeing that the woman was still quite upset. "But now I am in need of some air. Nathan, will you walk with me?"

"Eh?" The healer was confused until he looked at Mary and saw how close to tears she was. "Mebbe that'd be a good idea. Mary, y'gonna be alright?"

The woman nodded but she did not look up even after they had left. She was grateful to Rain for giving her this time with Chris but now she was not sure what to do.

"Damn you Chris Larabee! Why do you always make things so difficult?" She tried to choke back her tears as she stared at his face; he looked so vulnerable and helpless that it almost broke her heart. Reaching out blindly for his hand she pressed it to her cheek, heedless of the tears that dripped onto his calloused fingers. "When Stephen died... I never thought... I never thought I could feel this way again. But Gerard knew." Mary paused, a sorrowful half-smile on her lips. "You just never let anyone get close. Not Vin - not... " Her voice broke completely and she sobbed openly, finally giving in to all the emotions that tore at her soul.

Somehow it did not seem to help.

+ + + + + + +

Vin Tanner did not think he had ever been so tired in all his life. Every bone and muscle in his body ached and screamed for relief but as he stared into the flickering flames of his small campfire he found himself unable to sleep.

He had surprised even himself by arriving at Silver Creek in the early evening. The Comanche relay had proven their worth and had run their hearts out for him, and he had saved himself a fair amount of time. However, the journey back would be the hardest of all. Once he had met with the doctor and collected the item that Nathan needed Sheriff Dexter had taken Vin to the town stables and offered him the choice of the horses that were there. The tracker had picked out the only two that were suitable but it meant that the ride back to Four Corners would take considerably longer.

Darkness had finally forced him to stop; it had taken him just about an hour to do what was needed in the town and he had left before nightfall. He had covered almost five miles before the dun he was riding stumbled on the difficult trail and he realised that it was becoming too dangerous to carry on. Finding a suitable place to stop he picketed the horses and built himself a campfire. Settling himself down beside it he pulled out the package given to him by Tastanagi, unwrapped it and cut off a generous slice. As the old chief had said the pemmican - a mixture of nuts, fruit, and berries, pounded and soaked until they were soft and then bound with honey - was all he needed to keep him going. Taking a sip of water from his canteen Vin pulled his blanket closer about his shoulders as he sat beside the fire, and his mind drifted back to Chris.

It was about the same time the previous night that he had sat on the bed willing the gunslinger to live but now he was starting to wonder whether his efforts would be enough. Another day had passed and he knew Nathan did not think Chris could last much longer. Alone in the dark, worried and tired, the doubts began to creep back.

Vin was a great believer in families even though his own had been torn apart when he was very young but with Chris, Ezra, and the others he had almost regained that feeling of kinship. The bond he shared with the gunslinger in particular was definitely more like that of a brother than a friend and he felt totally comfortable with it. The trust, affection, and sense of being needed were something he had not had since his mother died, and the prospect of losing it now filled him with dread.

As he stared into the dancing flames the tracker could feel some of the tension seep out of him as he began to relax a bit. For almost a week he had been worried and on edge, but the need to clear Ezra and find the murderer of Henry Kirkland had given him little time to rest. However, too many long days and sleepless nights were starting to take their toll on him and he knew if he let go now he would sleep for hours, and Chris did not have that much time.

'Dammit, Chris, I don't think I can do this,' Vin thought miserably, feeling his eyelids start to droop in weariness.

'Yeah you can, pard. I'm counting on you.'

The hairs on the back of the tracker's neck stood on end as a chill wind blew across the clearing and he glanced quickly around the campsite. Chris' voice had been so clear that he half-expected to see him sitting on the opposite side of the fire, a wry smile on his face. A piece of wood cracked and popped as it burned making the Texan jump, and the horses moved restlessly as a coyote howled mournfully in the distance.

"Chris?" The word was almost a whisper; Vin was not sure if he had been asleep and dreaming or not but it was as though his thoughts had been given substance and he began to wonder about this uncanny link with the gunslinger. He suddenly thought about the medicine pouch and his belief in its healing powers but was there more to it than that? Right now it was his only connection to Chris and whilst the gunslinger wore it Vin strongly believed that his friend would hold on until he got back.

Rubbing at his eyes, the tracker decided that the strain of the last few days was finally catching up on him. However, the strange experience had re-affirmed his resolve, and he was determined to get back to Four Corners as quickly as possible.

+ + + + + + +

Catherine Kirkland left Four Corners at twelve o'clock the day after Vin started his long journey to Silver Creek.

She had arrived the previous week on the noon stage, the beautiful, poised and pregnant wife of an influential gentleman. Now her mode of transport was an uncomfortable prison wagon guarded by two hard-faced deputies. Her departure was witnessed by Judge Travis, Buck, and Ezra plus most of the Ladies Guild who had been appalled when news of her crime had leaked out. They had feted her and sympathised with her but now they had nothing but contempt for the woman. Four Corners was a lively town, used to its fair share of troublemakers and lawbreakers but Catherine's crime - seducing her stepson and then conspiring with him to murder her husband, his father - had shocked everyone.

"So what'll happen now?" Buck asked. "Will they hang her?"

"It's unlikely, although she certainly deserves it. The child she's carrying will undoubtedly save her life." Despite the heinous crime the Judge knew that he would have given her a stay of execution for the sake of the unborn child had he been trying the case. "But she will spend a long time in prison."

"I pity the poor child."

The comment came from the gambler, referring to the fact that the baby would be born in prison. Ezra watched dispassionately as the wagon pulled out; he had told the Judge and the others about Catherine's previous life as Marie Laborteaux and what little he knew about her involvement in an unsolved death in New Orleans. Travis pointed out that whatever had happened before had no bearing on this case, other than to further discredit her rapidly crumbling reputation. The Southerner shuddered slightly as he remembered the cold hatred in her eyes when she looked at him as she was escorted from the jailhouse, and he unconsciously adjusted the sling, a reminder of her parting gift to him.

"There's a few more things I need to sort out before lunch," the Judge said. "Buck?"

"I'd rather get back to the clinic, but Ezra'll give you a hand."

"Well, I was going to - " Ezra stopped, seeing the troubled expression on Buck's face. "No matter. It can wait a while. You'll let us know if there is any change with Chris?"

Buck nodded and turned on his heel, his civic duty done. Right now his personal concerns took precedence. When he arrived at the clinic he was surprised to find just Josiah there.

"Where's Nathan?"

"Rain persuaded him to get something to eat," the ex-preacher told him. "There's not much more he can do here."

"Dammit!" Buck swore, turning to look at the unmoving form of the gunslinger. "This shouldn't be happening."

"You can't fight the will of God, my friend." Josiah dropped a large hand on his shoulder, but Buck shrugged it off angrily.

"Chris never did believe in the will of God, and I'm not so sure I do any more." The ladies man removed his hat and ran his hand wearily through his hair. "Nathan can't give up just like that. He's gotta wait 'til Vin gets back."

"It's a long ride but Vin'll try his hardest."

"Yeah! He'll bust a gut to get back here for Chris!"

"That's what I'm afraid of." There was real worry in the ex-preacher's words, and Buck suddenly realised how anxious the man was about the tracker. "If there'd been any other way Nathan wouldn't have let him go."

The ladies man was silent for a long time. He knew he had been unfair to Vin but until now he had not appreciated just how much. He had been so wrapped up in his own concern for Chris that he had not stepped back and seen how it was affecting the Texan. For a while he had been too angry with Vin, too quick to accuse him of not caring, to see how much of a strain the tracker was under.

"I think Nathan would've had to tie the boy down to stop him," he stated truthfully. Josiah nodded slowly, knowing how determined the young Texan could be once he got an idea in his head. He glanced down at the almost comatose gunslinger, marvelling at the way he was tenaciously clinging to life. The man commanded respect and admiration in anyone who met him - fierce affection too, from his friends. The ex-preacher understood why Vin was risking everything to save his life. Chris Larabee was the kind of man who could instil such passion in those who knew him.

Buck paced restlessly over to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. Sipping the strong brew cautiously, he eyed the row of neatly labelled bottles and jars on the shelf for a moment before turning back to Josiah.

"What's the use of all this stuff?" he demanded, the bitter frustration back in his voice. "We don't even know this medicine of Rain's will work."

"But we have to try," Josiah countered. "Chris deserves that chance." He did not add that one of the reasons he went to fetch the girl was because he felt she would be a comforting presence for Nathan should the worst happen. If Chris died the healer was worried that the others would blame him, particularly Buck and Vin. In a sense he was right; it would be a natural reaction for them to take their grief out on him at first, and although Josiah would be there to help all of them, Nathan would need Rain's strength and understanding.

Buck drained the rest of his coffee and came back to sit beside the bed. The ex-preacher settled himself opposite and the pair lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Nathan and Rain did not return and Josiah was glad the young woman had succeeded in persuading the healer to take the much needed break away from the clinic for a while. The strain and weariness on all of them was almost unbearable and it was not long before Josiah noticed that Buck had fallen into an uneasy doze, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. He was fighting sleep himself in the warmth and unnatural quiet of the room and he struggled to sit up straighter in his chair. Just as he did so, he heard a faint moan from the still form in the bed and when he looked down he saw Chris' eyes flicker slightly.

Leaning forward, Josiah placed his hand on the gunslinger's forearm and softly called his name. The sick man flinched at his light touch but suddenly grew more agitated, his head tossing backwards and forwards on the pillow, and Josiah frowned when he heard Chris mutter something unintelligible.

"Buck!"

The ladies man woke almost immediately and he quickly looked up as Josiah spoke his name before dropping his gaze to the gunslinger.

"Hey Chris," he began, reaching out to grasp his friend's arms. "Come on, pard. Open your eyes. Everything's gonna be alright." Like the ex-preacher, Buck guessed that Chris was in the throes of some nightmare and they were worried that his restless movements would spark off another potentially fatal coughing fit.

"N… no!"

The ragged gasp from the gunslinger startled them both and in desperation Buck gave his friend a none too gentle shake. Chris' eyes suddenly flew open and he stared at them in utter panic, his lean frame trembling uncontrollably.

"It's okay," Buck reassured the sick man, but the other refused to be pacified.

"No…" the gunslinger whispered, his breathing strained. "Vin… trouble!" Buck and Josiah exchanged concerned looks and the ladies man leaned closer to his friend.

"Chris? What d'you mean? What about Vin?" However, his demands went unanswered as Chris subsided against the pillows, eyes closed and his energy totally spent. Buck called him again urgently but there was no response as his friend slipped back into unconsciousness. The ladies man sat back in his chair, his hand shaking slightly as he ran it across his forehead. "He must have been dreaming, Josiah," he muttered, trying to convince himself of the fact.

The ex-preacher made no reply, his craggy face pinched with worry as he stared down at the gunslinger. He hoped to God that Buck was right but the fear he had seen in Chris' eyes seemed real enough. If something had happened to Vin it would spell the end of all their hopes and Chris Larabee's life.

Not for the first time, Josiah offered up a silent prayer for the tracker's safe and swift return. There was nothing more he could do.

+ + + + + + +

It was early afternoon of the same day that Catherine Kirkland made her ignominious departure from Four Corners and Vin was fast reaching the point when he would have to change horses.

He had broken camp well before first light after just a few hours restless sleep, and he was rapidly becoming physically and emotionally exhausted. Natural instinct alone kept him in the saddle as he cantered along almost in a daze, his left hand clutching the lead rope of the dun which had been rested after the first leg of the journey.

The tracker never did figure out why his mount stumbled; as the grey went down on its front knees Vin sailed over its head, sprawling heavily on the ground. For a moment he lay stunned, fighting the desire to close his eyes, and then he rolled over onto his back and slowly sat up. Although his hands were grazed and his whole body was sore he was certain that he had not broken anything, and for that he was grateful. Looking around for the two horses he was relieved to see the grey standing a few feet away, brought to a halt by its trailing reins but the other animal - his fresh mount - was fast disappearing in the distance, heading back to Silver Creek and home. The Texan cursed, his shoulders slumping in despair as he contemplated the prospect of having to continue his journey on the tired grey gelding.

The urge to simply give up was almost overwhelming but the image of Chris Larabee lying so close to death haunted his every waking moment and until he was convinced that there was no hope he would carry on, no matter what the cost. Suddenly he remembered the syringe and a cold chill swept over him as he wondered if it had been damaged by his fall. Reaching inside his jacket he pulled out the small leather case and opened it carefully, breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief when the instrument appeared to be intact.

Tucking it away again he climbed stiffly to his feet, wincing as he felt every strained muscle, each bruised bone. Walking slowly across to the grey he checked it over for any sign of injury, trotting it around to make sure it was sound. The horse appeared to be none the worse for its fall but he knew now that he would not reach Four Corners before nightfall.

Hauling himself back into the saddle Vin started the horse moving at a steady trot. Much as he wanted to, he could not force a faster pace; the stamina of both man and beast had to be conserved. Anything else and the gunslinger's life would be forfeit, and Vin was not prepared to risk that.

Buck was starting to get worried.

Night had closed in around the town some hours back and there was still no sign of Vin despite his confident assurances that he could make the ride in less than two days. Buck's mind kept drifting back to Chris' distressed murmurings about the tracker being in trouble, murmurings that he had dismissed as nothing more than a fevered dream. Since then the gunslinger had not stirred; if anything his condition had deteriorated over the last few hours and Buck found he could no longer stay there and simply watch his friend die. Now, as he stood outside the Sheriffs Office looking along the darkened street, he began to wonder whether something had happened to the tracker.

"Hey, Buck." JD's voice startled him, and he looked around as the young peacekeeper came along the boardwalk. "Still no sign of him?"

"Nope, not yet." The tone of Buck's voice indicated that he was having his doubts, but JD was more optimistic.

"He'll be here soon. You'll see."

"I hope you're right, kid. Chris doesn't have much time." He turned back and continued to stare along the street, and JD stood beside him for a while, his silent presence offering some comfort. Both men watched eagerly as a rider appeared, but it was only another of the local ranch-hands heading towards the saloon.

"Why don't you wait inside?" JD suggested as he saw his friend's shoulders slump. "I'll make some fresh coffee."

"Yeah, in a minute." Buck had no intention of moving and they both knew it, but JD went inside the building anyway, touching the older man lightly on the shoulder in passing. He did not know what else to say to the ladies man; his own emotions were in a turmoil with the worry over Chris and Vin, but he knew Buck had to be feeling it even more.

Buck did not even notice when JD had gone. His attention was concentrated on the people coming and going through the town. It was just after seven, and the locals and ranch-hands alike were making their way to the various saloons and he carefully studied each rider as they came into view, looking for a familiar face.

The cup of coffee that JD had brought him had gone cold by the time he saw the pale horse at the far end of town and he stepped off the boardwalk, some instinct telling him the wait was finally over.

"JD!" he yelled as the plodding horse drew nearer and he could see the Texan slumped in the saddle, swaying with the motion of his mount. "Whoa there." Reaching out, he grabbed the bridle bringing the lathered grey to a halt as the youngest peacekeeper appeared at his shoulder, the urgency in Buck's voice bringing him at a run.

As the horse stopped Vin looked up with a start, narrowing his eyes as he squinted down at the two people before him.

"Buck?" The tracker's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper and even in the dim light cast by the lamps from various windows they could see that the Texan's face was grey with exhaustion. "I got it." Vin took the leather case from inside his coat and leaned down to hand it to the ladies man.

"You get this to Nathan quickly," Buck said, turning and passing the case to JD and the young man took it wordlessly, his gaze still fixed on the weary tracker. Buck saw the expression on his face change and he turned back as Vin continued to lean out of the saddle, and the ladies man made a sudden grab at him as he slowly slid straight off the horse.

"Vin!" There was worry in JD's voice as Buck clasped the unconscious tracker to him. "Buck, what's wrong with him?"

"He's plumb wore out. You just get that thing to Nathan. I'll take care of Vin." Buck scooped the Texan up into his arms, stepping back towards the jailhouse but then he paused as JD started to hurry away. "And kid, you'd best send Tiny or Chas back for the horse."

Buck carried Vin through to the empty cells at the back of the building, laying him carefully on the bunk in the nearest one. The tracker's collapse had not really taken him by surprise; Buck knew how tired and stressed Vin had been even before the ride and it had amazed him that the Texan had actually succeeded. Knowing that Vin would probably sleep for several hours he was going to make sure that the younger man was as warm and as comfortable as possible before he went to the clinic. The ladies man put Vin's hat to one side and unfastened his jacket, struggling slightly as he tried to ease it off the unconscious man. As he slipped it from beneath his shoulders Buck paused, staring at his hand in mute shock.

"What the...?" Fresh blood smeared his fingers and as he leaned closer he could see the dark stain soaking through the right side of the tracker's blue shirt. "Dammit, Vin, what the hell have you done?" Pushing the shirt up Buck could see the crude bandage tied around the Texan's lean body just above his waist. Studying it quickly he could see that the wound was at least a day old; some of the blood was dried and caked on, and he would have to soak the bandage off before he could do anything more.

Under the circumstances there was no way Buck was going to leave the Texan on his own now. There was nothing more he could do for Chris at the moment but at least he could take care of Vin. The ladies man smiled to himself; it was ironic that he now found himself in virtually the same position as Vin had been in when Chris first became ill. He had accused the tracker of seeming unfeeling as he concentrated his efforts on proving Ezra innocent rather than being with Chris but now he could understand why he had done it. Necessity.

Stepping back into the office Buck opened the desk drawer and pulled out the clean cloths and rolls of bandages that Nathan insisted they keep on the premises for just such an emergency. Filling a basin with water he went back to Vin and perched on the edge of the bunk.

"Godammit, boy," he muttered as he soaked the cloth and started to ease the grimy material away from the Texan's skin. "How d'you always manage to find trouble?" As he said it his hand paused as he remembered Chris' nightmare induced comment earlier that day. 'Vin... Trouble,' was what the gunslinger had said, and Buck shuddered as he considered this strange coincidence.

Dropping the dirty bandage to the floor, Buck used another piece of cloth to carefully clean the wound. Vin did not even stir or flinch at this painful process, a clear indication of how exhausted he was, and on closer scrutiny Buck could see that the injury had been caused by a gun. The tracker had been lucky; the bullet had gouged a shallow, bloody furrow across his ribs, and judging by the bruising he now revised his opinion about when it had happened.

His mind went back to the incident with Catherine Kirkland. Vin had confronted her in the barn and by the tracker's own admission she had taken a shot at him. Obviously she had not missed. Buck could feel his anger starting to rise, anger at Vin for not saying anything before. He wanted to shake the tracker awake and berate him for being a stubborn fool, but he knew what the answer would be. Vin would simply say that it was not worth mentioning.

"I wouldn't want to be in your boots when Nathan finds out," Buck warned the unconscious Texan as he tied a clean bandage in place and pulled a blanket over him. Rest was what Vin needed now and Buck was going to stay there and make damn sure he got it.

JD reached the clinic at a run, charging up the steep steps as if a pack of wolves were snapping at his heels. He startled everybody as he threw open the door and dashed inside, the precious package clutched in his hand.

"Vin's just got back!" he exclaimed breathlessly, thrusting the leather case at Nathan.

"Thank the Lord!" the healer breathed as he took it. He was expressing the thoughts of all the others who sat in silent vigil in the room. JD guessed that Josiah, Rain, and even Mary Travis would be present but he was surprised to see Ezra sitting quietly in the corner.

Josiah and Rain immediately rose to help Nathan prepare the medicine which was to be injected into Chris, and although JD knew he had to get Tiny or his helper to deal with the weary mount that Vin had ridden in on he was reluctant to leave. He cast an anxious eye at the unconscious gunslinger, staring in horror at his grey face and sunken cheeks. Mary Travis sat by Chris' bedside, firmly gripping his hand as though she no longer cared who was there to witness her obvious feelings for the sick man. Sensing his gaze upon her she quickly glanced up at the young peacekeeper and JD flashed her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. However, Mary barely acknowledged him and lowered her gaze to stare once more at the gunslinger, tightening her grasp on his hand.

"Where's Vin now, son?"

JD turned around at Josiah's question and he could not fail to notice the troubled look in the ex-preacher's eyes.

"At the jailhouse," he answered. "He collapsed straight off his horse!"

"Is he alright?" the healer asked quickly, a frown on his dark face but JD shook his head.

"Just plain exhausted. Don't worry - Buck'll take care of him."

"All right. I'll go and check on him later," Nathan replied. Like Josiah, he had been concerned about the tracker especially after he had been told about Chris' panicked outburst, but he was simply relieved that he was back in town. The healer continued with his preparations, well aware that he was being observed by several pairs of anxious eyes. The intense scrutiny made him feel extremely nervous and the fact that he had never handled a syringe before, let alone used one, made matters far worse.

Nathan had been unable to decoct any of the coneflower solution earlier because he was not sure when Vin would return and it had to be made from fresh stock. Pounding the thick root to a pulp he placed the crushed pieces into a pan of water and set it on the stove to boil. He then picked up the leather case and carefully drew out the syringe. Someone in the room gave a sharp intake of breath and when the healer glanced up he saw Ezra standing a few feet away, his eyes wide with alarm. The gambler was still recovering from his bullet wound, his arm in a sling, and he appeared decidedly green as he stared at the razor sharp two-inch needle.

"You alright, Ezra?" Nathan asked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. His friend swallowed hard.

"I feel... in need of... some fresh air," he stammered. "It is a trifle warm in here." The gambler brushed past Nathan and hurried to the door but just before he reached it, another voice piped up.

"I think I'll come with you, Ezra." It was JD and he too looked pale and sickly. "I have to see to Vin's horse."

The two fled the clinic before Nathan could say another word and the healer exchanged a slight smile with Josiah before continuing with his task. Knowing that the syringe had to be sterilised before use Nathan lowered it into another bowl of boiling water and went to check on the progress of the coneflower medicine. Although the water was steaming, he let it simmer for a while longer while he went over to examine his patient. Mary glanced up quickly as the healer lifted Chris' other wrist and felt his pulse. It was now so weak that Nathan had trouble detecting the faint beat. The gunslinger was fading fast and the healer hoped that Vin's heroic efforts in fetching the syringe would not have all been in vain.

"Do you think the medicine will work, Nathan?" Mary's voice was close to breaking, but the healer knew there was no point hiding the truth.

"I honestly don't know," he admitted. "But we have to try."

The blonde woman nodded slowly, her eyes going back to Chris. Nathan's real fear was that the medicine would prove too little, too late, and he just hoped that the gunslinger would be able to hang on to his tenuous thread of life. Pacing impatiently back to the stove, he poked at the mixture and gave a frustrated sigh.

"I'm not even sure how much I should give him," he said angrily. "What if it's too much?" Rain came over to him and laid her hand on his arm.

"The medicine will not harm him. It will be all right."

"Will it?" the healer replied. "I'm not sure of anything anymore, Rain." The young woman gave his arm a brief squeeze.

"You will do the right thing, Nathan."

He smiled at her, thankful for her reassuring presence and Josiah's part in bringing her here. The healer would never forget it.

The four people remaining in the room had to wait another agonising half an hour before the mixture was cool enough to use, and Nathan carefully poured it into a small glass bottle. Then he removed the syringe from the bowl and placed it onto a square of clean cloth, making sure he did not touch the needle. When it was dry, he picked it up again and dipped the needle into the bottle and slowly turned the screw piece on the end to draw up a full measure of the solution. Nathan was surprised to find that his hands were perfectly steady during this process, and now he was able to finally do something to help his stricken friend his earlier nervousness had disappeared completely. He ejected a little of the medicine out of the syringe to release any air which might have got into the tube and then he turned to Josiah, his expression serious.

"Now might be a good time to start praying."

Crossing to the bed, he glanced briefly at Mary before leaning over the unconscious man. Rain had already carefully wiped the inside of Chris' left arm with alcohol and now stood to one side as Nathan lowered the syringe to the gunslinger's flesh. There was no more hesitation as the healer inserted the needle into the large vein and slowly twisted the end until the tube was empty. He withdrew it smoothly and folded the arm upwards before drawing up the bedclothes to Chris' chin. Straightening up, Nathan breathed a sigh of relief and looked across at Mary.

"I'll give him another dose in about an hour," he told her. "Then we'll just have to wait and see."

The newspaperwoman nodded mutely, her face pale and grave. She had felt the slightest pressure on her hand from Chris' fingers when Nathan had slid the needle into his arm, but the gunslinger had lapsed back into deep unconsciousness and lay as still as death, his chest barely rising under the sheets.

'Start praying' Nathan had said to Josiah. Mary had been doing that ever since Chris had been taken ill. She just hoped that someone was listening and that their prayers would soon be answered.

+ + + + + + +

It was the early morning sunlight streaming through the barred window of the cell that finally woke Buck. He rolled over and stretched until his bones cracked and then sat up, looking through to the other cell. Vin had not moved; he still lay curled up on his left side in the same position Nathan had left him after the healer had been to check on him.

Buck grinned to himself as he recalled Nathan's searing comments when he had arrived at the jail. The healer thought he was just going to ensure that Vin was resting and was none the worse for his long ride but he was not prepared for what he found. He agreed with Buck that the graze on the tracker's side had been caused by a bullet several days previously, and he was lucky that he had not come down with a fever. The young Texan's stubborn nature and gritty determination to help Chris had probably been a big factor in overcoming the injury but it had taken its toll on him during and after the journey.

Buck's anger at the tracker's foolhardiness surfaced once again when Nathan pointed out the heavy bruising along his ribs and down his hip, marks consistent with a bad fall. As the healer examined him carefully for any broken bones he realised the bruises were fresher than the ones around the graze and had to have been made during his journey, although both men found it hard to believe that Vin Tanner had come off his horse. However, even the best rider could meet with an accident if they were tired and distracted enough and Buck was quick to remark on the fact that Chris seemed to have sensed somehow that Vin had been in trouble. They would know more when Vin woke up but judging by his lack of response to Nathan's probing fingers that would not be for some time.

Satisfied that there were no other injuries apart from a few abrasians on his hands Nathan had re-dressed the wound, eased him over onto his uninjured side, and left him to sleep. Buck had then accompanied the healer back to the clinic and he had sat with Chris until the early hours of the morning before returning to the jailhouse to snatch a few hours rest. Fortunately the town had been quite peaceful and he and Vin had been the only two occupants of the cells that night.

Swinging his legs off the bed Buck pulled on his boots, still grinning as he listened to the gentle snores coming from Vin. Nathan had said that sleep was the best thing for him and he had not stirred for some hours but he was going to be very stiff when he did finally wake. Striding out into the office Buck set a fresh pot of coffee on the stove.

The ladies man was on his second cup when he saw Vin move slightly and heard the muffled groan from him. Pouring out another cup he took it through to the cell, placing it on the floor as the tracker struggled vainly to sit up.

"And just where'd you think you're going?" Buck said, sitting on the edge of the bunk and forcing the other back. It did not take much effort; every muscle was sore and aching and Vin found that he could barely move. Glancing around in confusion the tracker's eyes widened in shock when he realised it was daylight outside and he clutched at Buck's arm in sudden panic.

"How long've I slept?"

"Near on twelve hours." Buck winced when he saw the fear in Vin's eyes as his words swept away the last fogginess of sleep.

"Twelve hours?" There was total disbelief in his voice as he pushed himself up, shaking off Buck's hand this time. "Chris!" he exclaimed fearfully, grimacing as his body protested harshly.

"Whoa, steady on." Buck gripped his shoulder firmly. "You made it in time. Nathan's been giving him the medicine through the night."

Some of the tension drained out of Vin and he closed his eyes briefly as he breathed a sigh of relief. Chris was still with them and that was more than he had hoped for as he had ridden down the main street.

"I wanna see him," he stated and then frowned as Buck shook his head.

"Why don't you take it real slow for a while? You damn near killed yourself for that man!" There was raw emotion in Buck's voice as he fixed the younger man with an intense gaze but Vin did not look away.

"I'd've done it for you or any of the others," the Texan replied softly and was startled to see the surprise on Buck's face at the simple truth. The ladies man cleared his throat and picked up the cup of coffee.

"Reckon you'd best drink this before it gets cold," he said, trying to conceal his embarrassment. "And Nathan said you need to eat before you go anywhere."

"Nathan?" Vin sounded dismayed as he slipped his hand inside his unfastened shirt and felt the neat bandage around his ribs.

"You know he's not gonna be best pleased with you when he sees you," Buck remarked. "Why the hell didn't you say something before?"

"It wasn't important. 'Sides, what would ya've done?" Buck made no answer to that as the Texan sipped slowly at his coffee before looking up again. "How'd I get here?" he asked suddenly.

"Y'don't remember falling off your horse?" Buck saw the Texan flush and start guiltily.

"How'd ya know that?"

"I was there, remember?" Buck frowned suspiciously. Somehow he did not think Vin was referring to his collapse outside the jail. "Or did you fall off before? Is that how you got all those bruises?" The young tracker lowered his head and his reply was little more than a murmur.

"I had some trouble." Buck drew in a sharp breath at that last word but he did not say anything as Vin continued. "My horse stumbled and I fell. I lost the fresh mount." He looked up, his gaze distraught. "Dammit, Buck," he whispered. "I thought I was gonna be too late!" For a moment Buck did not reply, fighting to hold his own feelings in check.

"But you weren't," he replied at length. "And that's all that matters."

Now it was Vin's turn to be embarrassed and he reached up to grab at the bars, pulling himself cautiously to his feet.

"Times a-wastin'. I ain't about to lie here all day."

Buck had to agree; the tracker needed to walk off the stiffness but there was something else he needed more.

"Fine! But you gotta eat first." There was determination in Buck's voice as Vin took a tentative step forward. "I'm gonna go down to the saloon and get us some breakfast. I hope you ain't about to leave, else I'll have to lock you up!"

"Reckon I ain't got much choice," the Texan admitted as he sank gratefully into the chair behind the desk. He was painfully aware of his limitations at the moment. "I'll be here when ya get back."

Buck straightened his jacket and picked up his hat. "I won't be long." As the ladies man reached the door he was stopped by Vin's next words.

"Hey, Buck." The tracker glanced up hesitantly. "Sorry I hit ya."

For a moment Buck looked serious but then a half-smile touched his lips. "It's not important," he said softly, echoing Vin's earlier comment.

The Texan leaned back in the chair as the door closed behind his friend, and despite his worry over Chris he had to grin. At least now he and Buck had settled their differences and that meant a hell of a lot to the tracker.

"So I'll see you in the saloon later?"

The question came from Ezra as he walked with Vin towards the clinic.

"I dunno. Mebbe." The tracker was not really sure what he wanted to do as he stared up the flight of stairs leading to Nathan's place. He had chafed impatiently for almost an hour while Buck made him sit and eat a plate of scrambled egg and ham and although he had thought he could not face breakfast, he had consumed most of it. However, his patience had finally run out and he had used Ezra's timely arrival at the jailhouse to make his escape.

The gambler had volunteered to accompany him, taking the opportunity to bring Vin up to date with what had happened during his absence regarding Catherine Kirkland but the tracker was not giving him his full attention. His dismissive answer to the Southerner's question caused Ezra to glance at him sharply.

"Alright, my friend. You know where to find me if you need me." With that the gambler walked away, leaving Vin standing alone at the foot of the stairs.

The tracker placed a reluctant foot on the bottom step; despite Buck's reassurances that Chris was holding his own Vin was a little apprehensive about what he would actually find. He knew as well that Nathan was most likely to tear him off a strip for covering up his injury but he could cope with that. It was the uncertainty, the not knowing whether he had done enough for Chris, that he was having trouble dealing with. Taking a deep breath Vin decided to wait no longer.

Nathan sat in his rocking chair, idly flicking through the latest edition of The Clarion News as he waited for yet another batch of the coneflower infusion to cool down but he paused when he heard the hesitant steps outside. Laying the newspaper aside he rose and opened the door just as Vin reached it. The tracker looked a little shaky, his hand pressed against his injured side, but he drew himself up and gave the healer a small grin.

"So yer finally awake," Nathan said, beckoning the other man in. "How d'ya feel?"

"Fine." The tracker tried to ignore the dark scrutiny but Nathan snorted in derision.

"Ha! Ya might be able to pull the wool over Buck's eyes, but ya don't fool me. Why didn't ya say ya'd been hurt?"

Vin shrugged. "It wouldn't've made any difference. Ya wouldn't've stopped me goin'." Hie moved across to the bed where Chris lay and looked down; the gunslinger looked no different from when Vin had left two days ago and he could not hide his disappointment. "He don't look no better."

The healer moved forward to stand beside Vin. "At least he's no worse. Ya gotta give these things time to work. I was about ready to give up yesterday," Nathan stated truthfully. "But now... "

"What?"

"Well, his heartbeat's a mite stronger and he seems to be breathing a little easier, but it's still too early to tell." Out of necessity he was being cautious; there was no point in giving anybody false hopes but he did not want to take anything away from Vin's gruelling ride. "You've done everythin' you can. You've given him a fighting chance."

"But is it enough?"

Nathan could not answer that. Reaching out he squeezed Vin's shoulder. "Why don't ya just sit with him fer a while?" he said. Even though the Texan had slept for more than twelve hours he could still feel him trembling with fatigue as he pushed him gently into a chair. "It's about time I gave him another dose anyway."

As Nathan busied himself preparing the syringe, Vin took the chance to really study the gunslinger. The sickly grey pallor seemed to have faded from his skin although he was still pale, and the painful wheezing was not quite so evident. The tracker found his gaze drawn to the talisman that Chris still wore around his neck and he reached out to touch it lightly. His mind wandered back once again to the incident by the campfire when he had thought he had heard his friend's voice whispering words of encouragement as he half-dozed.

"I'm counting on you."

"What d'ya say?" Nathan's voice made him jump and he shook himself, suddenly aware that he had spoken out loud

"Nothing." How could he explain to the healer what he did not understand himself? Looking up, he saw the syringe in Nathan's hand and watched curiously as the healer wiped the inside of Chris' forearm with a piece of alcohol-soaked cloth. However, his curiosity quickly evaporated when Nathan slid the needle into a vein and his stomach gave a queasy lurch as he sat back and averted his eyes. Vin had seen many things in his young life but for some strange reason what Nathan had just done brought him out in a cold sweat.

The healer withdrew the needle, wiping away the thin trickle of blood that appeared at the puncture point and then he glanced up at Vin, seeing the tracker's ashen features.

"Vin?"

"How many times ya gotta do that?" the Texan asked, ignoring Nathan's solicitous query. The healer shook his head.

"Don't rightly know," he admitted. "Maybe 'til there's more of an improvement. Rain says it won't do him any harm, so... " He shrugged again. "We'll just have to wait and see."

+ + + + + + +

Over the next couple of days Vin and the others took it in turns to sit with Chris in the hope that he would wake up but the gunslinger remained stubbornly unconscious. Despite Nathan's assurances that his condition was improving his friends grew increasingly frustrated and more anxious with each passing hour.

The healer believed that the babble of voices and the every day comings and goings in the clinic would help and he encouraged as many people as possible to visit. The other peacekeepers were more than happy to go along with this, and although Mary had considered bringing Billy, in the end she decided against it. She was not sure how the boy would react to seeing Chris - a person he idolised - so ill.

By the end of the second day Nathan had lessened the dosage of the root extract to once every four hours and he would be relieved when Chris was finally able to take the medicine orally. Both the gunslinger's arms were quite bruised now and he was finding it more and more difficult to locate a suitable vein. Fortunately, no one else in the town was in serious need of his attention so he was able to concentrate most of his efforts on nursing Chris Larabee but the strain was beginning to tell. He was almost as tired as Vin, who seemed to have spent the last forty-eight hours living and occasionally eating and sleeping at the clinic. Then, in the early hours of the third day, something significant happened which gave them all hope.

Nathan had finally persuaded - or rather bullied - Ezra into forcing the tracker from the clinic and making him sleep in his wagon. Vin was still feeling the effects of his long ride and the wound across his ribs, as well as the other scrapes and bruises that he had sustained when he fell from his horse. Although he had been sitting with Chris he had not really been resting and that, combined with the gunslinger's continued comatose state, was starting to wear him down again.

Ezra had just pushed the protesting Texan out of the door when Nathan heard a faint moan. For a moment he was not certain that he had heard anything but when he glanced across at the bed he saw Chris' eyelids flickering. Thinking that the gunslinger was just dreaming he hurried over to calm him, and his heart leapt when he heard Chris' breathing pattern change and he realised the man was on the verge of waking.

"Damn!" the healer swore. Despite his delight at the gunslinger's apparent return to consciousness he was now in a quandary as to whether he should call Vin back. However, the dilemma was taken out of his hands; Chris stirred and muttered softly, giving Nathan no chance to go after the departing tracker.

"Chris? Can y'hear me? It's Nathan." The healer laid his hand on one bare shoulder as he leaned over the bed. "Come on, Chris. Wake up!" The gunslinger groaned again and turned his head in the direction of Nathan's voice, trying to open eyes that were sticky with sleep. "Easy," Nathan said softly, reaching for the cloth in the bowl of water on the bedside table. He wiped carefully at the cloying lashes, his other hand gently grasping the gunslinger's chin as he tried to move his head away. Tossing the cloth aside, Nathan pulled a chair closer and sat down as Chris drew a painful shuddering breath, hazel eyes opening a fraction as he started to come to.

"N... athan." The name was less than a whisper as the gunslinger tried to force the word through lips that had almost forgotten how to form the syllables. There was no strength in his voice and he closed his eyes again with a weary sigh.

"Don't try to talk," Nathan said, tapping his arm. "I'll be right back." The healer quickly poured some fresh water and then slipped his hand beneath Chris' head, lifting him up a little as he placed the cup to his lips. "Come on, drink this. Its just water." The gunslinger barely swallowed enough to moisten his mouth but Nathan was encouraged and he had to smile when Chris opened his eyes once more and looked at him.

"... prefer whiskey." The words were a little stronger and the sentiment behind them showed that Chris had not lost his sense of humour.

"Mebbe, but that's not gonna be for a while, my friend." Nathan felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders; even though he knew Chris was not out of the woods yet this might prove to be the turning point he had been desperately waiting for. Again he regretted sending Vin away; the tracker also needed to see some sign that his friend was getting better but for now he would just have to take Nathan's word. For a moment the healer thought Chris had drifted back to sleep but then he spoke again.

"Vin... where is he?"

Nathan hesitated for a moment. He had been expecting that question but not the trepidation on the gunslinger's face. Josiah had told him about Chris' frantic outcry some days earlier but they had all assumed it was a dream - until the tracker arrived back and they found out that he had indeed met with an accident. The memory of it was still clearly playing on Chris' mind and Nathan knew it was important to reassure him that the young Texan was okay.

"He's getting some rest. He's been here most of the time." The healer mentally crossed his fingers as he spoke, hoping that that was the case and his answer seemed to satisfy Chris. "How do you feel?"

"... m'tired," the gunslinger stated softly. Even these few minutes awake had drained his vastly depleted energy and he was asleep before Nathan had straightened the blanket over him.

Leaning back in the chair Nathan scrubbed wearily at his face but he felt happier than he had been for more than a week. It was a huge relief to see his perseverance and dedication finally start to bear fruit. At least now he could offer the other peacekeepers a positive sign and that made him feel a whole lot better.

+ + + + + + +

It was different this time but he did not know why.

As Chris Larabee struggled up through the misty layers of sleep he wondered if his brief spell of being awake had been just a dream. He was still tired, more tired than he had ever felt in his life, and there was a dull pain in his chest but now he was certain he had the strength to open his eyes. The gunslinger was disappointed to find that his vision was still blurred and that his thoughts remained hazy but he was warm and comfortable and he waited until he gradually become aware of his surroundings.

Nathan's clinic - it had not been a dream then. The lamps were lit as before but they seemed brighter and clearer now and Chris somehow took this as a good sign. He knew he had been very ill and he remembered being frightened that he might even die but something or someone had given him the courage to hold on. As he turned his head slowly to the right he suddenly realised that the one person in his life who had the power to pull him back from the brink was sitting by his side.

Vin Tanner lounged in the chair, feet stretched out and his head resting back against the wall and he was fast asleep. Chris started to smile, trying to ignore the pull of his dry, cracked lips and he moved his hand slightly, fingers stretching out to touch the tracker's knee.

'Vin.'

Although his lips formed the word no sound came out but the Texan jumped as though he had been struck by a spark of summer lightning. Vin looked around, his expression startled and then he realised Chris was awake and the warmth of his smile took the gunslinger by surprise.

"Hey, cowboy! How d'ya feel?"

Chris considered the question for a moment; he felt weak and light-headed and his arms were extremely sore but he continued to stare at the tracker. Despite the smile, the gunslinger could see the lines of fatigue on his friend's face and the dark smudges under his eyes and he wondered what had caused his haggard appearance.

"Chris?" Vin's smile started to fade when the gunslinger remained silent, the hazel eyes almost fixed and staring. Worry started to gnaw at the tracker once again and he twisted in his seat, leaning forward as his fingers closed about Chris' wrist. "What's wrong?" Vin knew it was a stupid question but it did not stop him asking it.

"You look terrible!" the gunslinger finally replied, and Vin's anxiety dissipated as he started to laugh. "... s'not funny!" the gunslinger wheezed but Vin could not hide his amusement.

"Me look terrible?" The Texan almost choked. "Have you looked at yourself lately?"

"Don't make me laugh." Unfortunately, it was infectious and Chris felt his own mirth bubbling near the surface but the breath suddenly caught in his throat and he started to cough. Vin became instantly contrite as a spasm of pain crossed the gunslinger's face and he jumped to his feet and filled a cup with water.

"Drink this," he coaxed, slipping his arm around Chris' shoulders and holding the cup steady as the older man sipped slowly at the cool liquid. His thirst quenched, the gunslinger turned his face away and Vin eased him back against the pillows. "Okay?"

Chris nodded, lifting a trembling hand to wipe at his mouth. As his fingers brushed against his chin he was surprised at the amount of heavy stubble he felt there.

"How... long've - " The gunslinger stopped as Vin shook his head.

"Don't ya worry none 'bout that." The tracker could see that Chris was still extremely tired and that even talking was an effort. "There's plenty o'time fer that later."

Chris wanted to protest that he was okay but the protest became a yawn as his body decided that it had had enough.

"... sound like Nathan," he mumbled as his eyes closed. Vin smiled as he watched his friend settle back to sleep. Like Chris he had many things he wanted to say but they would keep until the gunslinger was stronger.

Vin had dozed on and off for about an hour whilst Chris slept, more relaxed now that his friend had finally woken up and spoken to him albeit for a short time. For a little while longer he remained watching the gunslinger, his expression one of contentment. The tracker was convinced that he could at last see some improvement in Chris' condition; there was more colour in his cheeks and his breathing did not seem to be quite as laboured as it had been. Nathan had warned him that the gunslinger's recovery would be long and slow but at least he had taken the first step.

The tracker leaned forward in the chair, his hand instinctively going to the wound on his side. It was healing well now but he kept having the urge to scratch it. As he moved he saw the gunslinger's eyelids start to flicker rapidly and his breathing quickened as he tossed his head from side to side.

"No... you can't... not right... " The words tumbled from Chris' lips even though his eyes remained closed and he moved restlessly, trying to push back the bedclothes. Vin reached out anxiously, his hands closing about his friend's wrists as the man grew more agitated.

"Chris. Yer alright. Come on - wake up!" The tracker was worried that he would begin coughing again and suffer a serious relapse but his words had little effect as Chris remained caught in the throes of the nightmare. "Chris? Can y'hear me?" Vin was more persistant this time, shifting his grip to the gunslinger's shoulders and shaking him urgently. Chris gave a ragged gasp as his eyes suddenly snapped open and he stared at Vin in total confusion for a long moment. "Y'okay?" The young Texan saw the uncertainty fade from his friend's eyes as the gunslinger finally remembered where he was and he gave a brief nod. "That musta bin some dream!"

Chris gave a convulsive shudder and he forced himself to be calm as the tracker loosened his grasp. "More like a nightmare," he admitted softly, closing his eyes against the memory.

"Y'gonna tell me about it?"

Chris thought for a moment. His last clear recollection before he became ill was getting ready to ride out and search for Ezra after Henry Kirkland's murder and it was that which had formed the basis of his nightmare. In his confused mind they had caught up with the gambler and Judge Travis and Clayton Kirkland had pronounced him guilty on the spot without the benefit of a trial. Vin had woken him just at the point where the Judge was tying the noose around Ezra's neck but the images had been vividly real and he could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his brow as he realised no-one had mentioned the gambler at all.

"Ezra! Where is he?" The fear in Chris' voice and the look of apprehension on his face told Vin all he needed to know about the nightmare and he did not press the gunslinger for any further explanation.

"Don't ya worry. He's fine." Vin told him, seeing the way Chris' shoulders sagged with relief. "Reckon ya should get some sleep though."

"I've slept enough," Chris replied, his tone a little peevish at the suggestion but he could not prevent the yawn that escaped him. "Tell me about Ezra," he repeated stubbornly.

Knowing that he was not going to get any peace and unwilling to do anything to make Chris more fractious, Vin gave in and started to tell him about Clayton and Catherine Kirkland and the dramatic conclusion to the investigation.

"Well, I'm glad you persuaded me to go."

Nathan glanced down at the girl by his side, seeing the smile on her face as he tightened his grip about her shoulders.

"Vin is with Chris and you needed some time away," Rain told him. "It has been very hard for you. Besides, I also enjoyed myself."

Nathan had to admit that he felt a little more relaxed himself. When Mary had invited them both to supper he had been reluctant to accept at first, even though he was certain that Chris had reached the turning point and had placed one cautious foot on the road to a slow recovery. However, with the timely arrival of Vin - who made it quite clear that this time nothing short of a tornado would force him from the clinic until Chris woke up - and a little cajoling from Rain, the healer had conceded defeat.

It was obviously just what he needed; as he had expected from Mary the supper was excellent, and Rain was totally enamoured of Billy. Even the Judge had been mellow and the evening had passed quite quickly. Now, as they walked along the landing outside the clinic Nathan suddenly stopped hearing Vin's voice from inside, and he frowned. Either someone else was with the tracker or... Hurrying forward, Nathan thrust the door open, causing Vin to look up with a start, but the healer's attention went past him to the awake and alert Chris Larabee.

"Well now, ya look a whole lot better than y'did this morning," the healer said, although he could see that the gunslinger was pretty exhausted and he turned a stern face to Vin. "I hope yer ain't tiring him?" he scolded, waiting for a repeat of the tracker's earlier heated tirade. Vin had been furious when he had found out that Chris had woken up, albeit briefly, just after he had left with Ezra and his searing comments to Nathan were uncharacteristic and had taken the healer by surprise.

"Nathan, you fuss too much."

The unexpected comment came from Rain. She had seen how irritable the man could get when he thought his patient's welfare was being compromised but she could also see that Vin was not at all worried by the healer's angry outburst. The Texan just gave Nathan a smug look, too relieved to have his friend awake to be concerned about anything else.

"Rain?" The question came from Chris and he seemed surprised to find her there. The girl stepped forward, her smile bright and warm as she regarded the gunslinger.

"I am glad you are feeling better," she said.

"It was Rain who brought the cure for yer sickness," Nathan told him, a touch of pride in his voice, and Chris gave a faint smile.

"Seems I've a lot of people to thank." The gunslinger's gaze swept over all three of them but it lingered longest and hardest on Vin, seeing the total transformation on his face. The haunted weary look had gone completely; instead he was almost jubilant and nothing Nathan or anyone else could say was going to dampen his spirits now. Chris would have laughed if he had had the strength but instead he yawned. It was as though that was a signal to Nathan and he became brusque and businesslike.

"That's it. You - " he pointed at Vin, who sat there grinning like an idiot " - I want y'to get something to eat and then sleep. And don't come back here 'til morning!"

"Rain's right. Ya fuss way too much," the tracker told him, his tone almost flippant. "What would ya do with all that free time if we didn't keep ya busy?"

Nathan did not have to ponder long on that question. "I'd have a peaceful life," he stated emphatically, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. "Now git!"

"I'm going!" Vin scrambled out of the chair but his parting words were to Chris. "See ya later, cowboy."

As the door closed behind the Texan Nathan picked up his stethoscope and slipped into the empty seat, laying his hand briefly on Chris' forehead.

"How d'ya feel?" he asked, relieved to find that his temperature had dropped a little.

"Tired." That was an understatement; Chris had been fighting to keep his eyes open for some time and it was only Vin's presence that prevented him giving in to the demands of his weakened body. Now that the tracker had gone he could relax and allow the lethargy to creep over him.

"I ain't surprised." The healer put the stethoscope to his ears and placed the other end on Chris' chest, listening carefully. The gunslinger's heartbeat seemed a little stronger, and when he moved it around to his back his lungs sounded clearer and less congested. "Ya need to get some rest," Nathan told him, hanging the instrument around his neck. "Then later we'll try ya with a little soup. We gotta start building yer strength up."

The gunslinger was too tired to answer. He gave another yawn and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he drifted off to sleep. Nathan pulled the blankets up and tucked them around the too thin body, making certain that Chris kept warm. Turning to Rain, he gave a wry grin.

"Looks like yer sacred plant's done the trick," he said, undeniable gratitude in his voice as he pulled her towards him. If the truth was known Nathan was as relieved as Vin. Although his progress would be extremely slow the healer was confident that Chris Larabee would now make a full recovery and the strain he had been under for the last week or so seemed to have suddenly lifted from his shoulders. "How can I thank ya."

"I have an idea," Rain said, feeling the healer's breath warm against her skin. "But... " She glanced across at Chris, and Nathan laughed softly.

"I think he'll probably sleep 'til morning."

Slipping from the healer's grasp Rain walked purposefully across to the door of the clinic and drew the bolt across. Turning, she smiled at Nathan and reached for his hand.

"Now we will not be disturbed."

When Vin walked into the saloon he was still in a buoyant mood.

He had intended to follow Nathan's advice but he felt in need of something a little stronger than the countless cups of coffee he seemed to have been drinking of late. The saloon was fairly crowded as it would be for the middle of the evening, and as the tracker pushed his way to the counter he suddenly found Ezra at his elbow. The gambler made an exaggerated show of studying him as he flung an arm around his shoulders and guided him to an empty space at the end of the bar.

"How is Mr Larabee? Can I deduce from your air of cheerfulness that our illustrious leader is making excellent progress?"

Vin smiled. "Reckon y'could say that," he agreed.

"Then we must drink to his continued improvement." Ezra looked round. "Inez, a bottle of our finest whiskey, please." As the Mexican barkeep hurried away Ezra was jostled by a patron as he staggered past, and the gambler gave a sniff of annoyance. "Perhaps we need somewhere a little quieter," he suggested. The table in the far corner was the obvious choice and the Southerner was quick to stake his claim when the previous occupants got up and left.

Steering his friend over to the table Ezra pushed him into a seat and sat opposite. The gambler was glad of the opportunity to speak to Vin. He knew how difficult it had been for the tracker, dividing his time between the investigation and Chris Larabee and he felt a deep sense of gratitude towards Vin for believing in him when all the evidence pointed the other way. It was a debt he would find difficult to repay.

"So, have you eaten?"

"Not yet," the Texan replied as Inez placed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the table. "Ain't that hungry."

Ezra made no comment as he poured drinks for both of them and then he raised his glass in salutation.

"Here's to Mr Larabee's speedy recovery," he said, downing the liquor in one go. Vin followed his example, feeling the whiskey burn as it went down. The gambler quickly re-filled the glasses and proposed a second toast. "And here's to you, my friend. Thank you for having the courage to believe in me."

The tracker paused with the glass halfway to his lips and a slight flush came to his cheeks. "Courage had nothin' t'do with it," Vin told him truthfully, feeling a little embarrassed. "Just never figgered ya for a murderer."

"It's a pity everybody else didn't feel the same way. I know Buck had his doubts at first."

The Texan could not deny that but that was just Buck's way. The ladies man had a tendency to regard things in black and white without seeing the subtle differences in between but at least now he had apologised to the gambler. Vin took a sip of the whiskey, and then looked up in surprise as Inez returned and placed a tray on the table in front of him.

"What's this?" he asked, regarding the pieces of cold chicken, cheese and bread, along with an assortment of pickles.

"I thought you might be hungry," she explained and then waved her hands at him as he started to count out some coins. "No - please. It's with the compliments of the management." She gave Ezra a sidelong look but the gambler merely nodded.

"You heard the lady. Enjoy."

As Vin slowly picked at the food Ezra turned the conversation around to the general goings on in town. He made no further mention of Henry or Catherine Kirkland; it had been an extremely harrowing experience that he would sooner put behind him and besides now was not the time to dwell on it. All he wanted to do at this precise moment was give the Texan an opportunity to cast aside the stress and strain of the past few weeks.

As the evening wore on and the contents of the bottle rapidly diminished Vin started to feel quite mellow. Even Ezra had to smile at him; it was unusual for the tracker to consume so much alcohol in such a short space of time.

Buck made his appearance just as Ezra poured the last of the whiskey into their two glasses, and Vin gave him a slightly lop-sided smile.

"Sorry, Buck. We run out."

"Not to worry, my friend. I think I know where to find another bottle." Ezra gave Vin a conspiratorial wink and rose a little unsteadily before heading towards the bar for a second bottle and another glass. Buck pulled a chair over and sank down into it, studying the grinning tracker with amusement.

"I see Nathan's finally kicked you out," he stated with a smile. "Does this mean Chris is doing okay?" Like everybody else Buck knew that Chris had woken up very briefly earlier, and he had found the tracker in situ when he had stopped by later in the afternoon.

"Yeah! He's gonna be jus' fine." Vin's words sounded slightly slurred and he pushed his glass forward as Ezra came back and placed the extra glass and a fresh bottle on the table.

"Reckon you ought to pour me a large one, Ez," Buck requested. "Looks like I've got some catching up to do."

+ + + + + + +

Chris awoke to the sound of someone singing.

Opening his eyes a fraction, he peered across the room at the young woman who was preparing something at the small stove and he smiled drowsily, enjoying the normality of the scene. Rain was singing something in her adopted people's tongue and the gentle melody reflected the bright sunshine that flooded through the windows of the clinic, highlighting the mahogany tones of her hair. Sensing she was being observed Rain stopped and turned towards the bed, her mouth curving into a smile when she saw he was awake.

"Good morning," she began, stepping forward. "I hope you slept well?"

"Yeah, I did." The gunslinger was not feeling quite so tired now but he knew he had a long way to go before he was completely well.

"Would you like some tea?" Rain asked. "I have just made some."

Chris nodded and as the young woman moved back to the stove he tried to push himself higher up in the bed but was appalled to find how weak he was.

"You are not strong enough yet," Rain said, coming back to his side with a streaming cup in her hand. She set it down on the table and slipped an arm around his shoulder, easing him forward as she piled the pillows up behind him. "There, is that more comfortable?" Chris gave her a grateful smile as he leaned back, and Rain picked up the cup once again. "Now, drink this."

The fruit tea was delicious and as Chris sipped at the beverage he felt it warming his stomach, giving new strength to his frail body.

"You must try to eat something later," Rain continued. "You are all skin and bone!"

Chris laughed hoarsely at her forthright statement and pushed the cup away to show he had had sufficient. She let him rest for a moment, crossing the room to pour tea for herself. The gunslinger sighed with contentment and laid his head back against the pillows, resisting the urge to go back to sleep again. He had been in the shadows for too long and he had no desire to return to a world where his dreams were tormented with painful memories. However, despite his determination to stay awake he found himself beginning to drift off and it was only the sound of a man's voice that made him half-open his eyes.

Nathan emerged from the bedroom, yawning and stretching his arms. As Chris watched in silence, the healer went straight over to Rain who turned to greet him with a warm smile. Nathan plucked the cup from her hands and drained the contents before leaning forward to kiss the young woman longingly on the lips. Chris smiled, not in the least surprised by the show of deep affection they felt for each other; given the strain the healer must have been under looking after him the gunslinger was glad they had had the opportunity to be with each other. Shifting slightly under the blankets, he forgot his sore arms and gave a muffled cry as he jarred them. Nathan immediately broke away from Rain and came over to the bed.

"Chris? Y'awake?"

The older man opened his eyes and looked up at his friend. "Have been for a while," he answered. "D'ya spend a comfortable night in that rocking chair of yours?" The knowing smile on Chris' face made the healer give a guilty start, and he could not stop himself looking round at Rain but the girl had already disappeared back into the other room. Clearing his throat noisily to cover his embarrassment, Nathan leaned forward to take the gunslinger's right wrist.

"How d'ya feel this morning?" he asked, checking his pulse.

"Still tired," Chris admitted.

"Mmm," the healer said, tucking his hand back underneath the blankets. "Yer arms still bothering ya?"

"Some. What'd you do?"

Nathan regarded the bruising with a sympathetic eye. "I had t'use a syringe. It was t'only way to give ya the medicine. Ya couldn't keep anythin' else down.''

Chris nodded. He could vaguely recall being violently sick when the healer had made him drink some noxious potion but he did not remember much else.

"Hell, I'd sooner drink the damned stuff if I have to take any more," Chris answered and his friend smiled.

"We'll see. Now how about some food? Ya hungry?"

The gunslinger was not sure. His stomach felt a little queasy at the mention of the word, although he could not remember when he had last eaten.

"Maybe later."

Nathan did not argue the point and he walked away and poured himself another cup of tea. Hearing footsteps on the landing outside he looked up and grinned.

"Sounds like ya got a visitor," he told Chris, guessing who it would be but they were both surprised when Buck entered.

"Hey, stud! How're y'doing?" Buck breezed in, his comment directed at Chris.

"Better." Chris could feel his lips curving upwards, unable to resist the infectious grin from his oldest friend.

"Yeah, well you'd look better without all... " Buck paused, waving his hand in the general direction of his own chin and Chris reached up to rub at the stubble on his face.

"Yeah. I was gonna ask Nathan or Josiah if they could get rid of it."

"Hell, I'll do it! It won't be the first time." Buck was quite adamant, and he turned to Nathan and the healer grinned.

"Well, now yer here we'll go get some breakfast. There's soap and a razor in my room. Help yerself."

"We?" Buck sounded surprised, and his eyebrows shot up as Rain came from the other room.

"Good morning, Mr Wilmington," she said, a smile on her face.

"Ma'am." The ladies man touched his hat politely, too surprised to say anything else. As Nathan started to slip his jacket on Buck suddenly grinned. "By the way, don't expect to see Vin any time soon."

"What d'ya mean?" the healer asked anxiously.

"Waal, he spent most of the evening in the saloon toasting Chris' health. When I left him and Ezra were still at it. I think the boy was trying to drink the town dry!"

"Vin?" Chris was startled. Although the Texan was not averse to a drink even he had never seen him drunk before.

"The one and only." Buck chuckled, thinking back to how the tracker was when he had left - and that was almost midnight. "Hell, I've never seen him so relaxed!" Both Chris and Nathan laughed at the picture Buck painted but the healer was also a little sympathetic.

"Well, if he turns up here I might have something that'll help the hangover."

"Nathan, shall we go?" Rain slipped her arm through his and started to move towards the door.

"We won't be too long," the healer said, snatching up his hat and then pulling the door shut behind them.

"They look mighty pleased with themselves." A slow smile spread across Buck's face as he glanced at the bedroom and then back at Chris. "Did they...?"

"I reckon so." Chris returned the grin as Buck took his hat off.

"The sly devil! But hey, good luck to him!" Taking his jacket off and hanging it over the back of a chair Buck put some water on to heat and then went through to Nathan's room, emerging a short time later with soap, brush, and a cut-throat razor. Tipping some of the warm water into a bowl the ladies man placed everything he needed on the side table.

"Okay, let's sit you up a bit, and then we'll get rid of this face fuzz." Buck plumped the pillows behind Chris and draped a towel around his neck.

"Did Vin really get that drunk?" Chris asked as Buck lathered the soap over his face.

"Oh yeah!" The ladies man tilted his friend's head up and carefully shaved the stubble from around his throat and under his chin. "We'd already got through two bottles by the time JD and Josiah arrived."

"Sounds like I missed quite a party," the gunslinger stated wistfully, his words slightly muffled as Buck concentrated on his chin.

"Yeah, well, I reckon we all needed a little distraction. You know, you had us worried there for a while, pard."

"I was pretty scared myself," Chris admitted. He was not going to tell Buck just how scared he had been or the confession that he had made to Vin.

"Maybe that's why Vin did what he did," the ladies man mused thoughtfully.

"What d'you mean?" Chris' eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"He didn't tell you about his ride?"

"What ride?"

Buck hesitated for a moment. "How d'you think Nathan got that syringe? Vin rode to Silver Creek for it."

"Silver Creek?" Now Chris was confused and he started to look a little anxious. "But that's at least four days away!"

Buck stopped and regarded his friend intently. "Chris, you didn't have four days. Vin knew that. That's why he did it in less than two." The gunslinger went white; he knew he had been ill but he had not realised just how desperate the situation had been. Buck did not seem to notice as he went on to explain. "He took an Indian relay from Rain's village, but I don't think Nathan would have let him go if he'd known he'd been shot."

The last word seemed to crack like a bullwhip in Chris' brain and he physically jumped, giving a yelp of pain as the razor nicked his cheek.

"Shot?" Chris could feel his heart thumping as the muscles seemed to constrict his breathing and a cold sweat broke out on his brow. "When?"

"It was Catherine Kirkland. When he confronted her in the barn?" As Buck dabbed at the small cut on the gunslinger's cheek he could feel his friend trembling and he began to wonder whether he had said too much.

"Dammit, Buck, why didn't you stop him?" Chris wheezed.

"You know Vin. He didn't tell anybody." Buck tried to cover his own tracks but there was one more thing he needed to know. "But how did you know he'd got into trouble on the way back from Silver Creek?"

"What?" Chris was beginning to get really alarmed now, his head spinning as he attempted to deal with all that Buck was telling him.

"Don't you remember waking up and yelling he was in trouble?" Buck shook his head. "We just figgered you were dreaming. It wasn't 'til Vin got back to town that we found out he'd taken a bad spill from his horse. The boy damn near killed himself!"

The ladies man cleaned the remainder of the soap from Chris' face, wiping his skin dry with the towel but the gunslinger could not seem to catch his breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and his vision blurred as the blood roared in his temples and he found himself on the verge of losing consciousness.

"Chris? Y'alright?" Buck's voice seemed to come from a great distance but as he tried to reply he could feel the cough forming, unable to prevent it bursting from his lips. Buck held his shoulders tightly as the spasm shook the gunslinger's thin frame and he cursed his glib tongue. Sometimes he just did not know when to stop.

"I'm... okay!" the gunslinger gasped. The answer was a lie; his earlier good humour had been crushed beneath Buck's revelations and he felt worse than ever. His chest was really tight again and he felt a brief moment of fear as he struggled to breathe.

"Er... umm... I'll get some water." Buck leapt to his feet, grabbing a cup and filling it from the pitcher on the side. Chris' panic had communicated itself to him and he was fearful of the consequences. "Here you go." The ladies man held the cup to Chris' lips but his teeth were chattering with cold as reaction set in. Buck put the cup aside and pulled the blankets up higher as Chris continued to shiver.

When Nathan returned ten minutes later Chris was still feeling the cold. He was lying back in the bed with his eyes closed and Buck's jacket was draped over the top of the blankets. The healer took one look at his face and was immediately at the bedside, cursing softly.

"What the hell happened, Buck?" Nathan was horrified by the sudden relapse. "I've only been gone half an hour!"

"It's not my fault." Buck was on the defensive; he could not really see what he had done wrong. "I just told him about Vin."

"What about Vin?" The ladies man gulped, seeing the furious glare in Nathan's eyes.

"I thought he knew all about Vin's ride. How was I to know he'd react like this?'

"Ya sure that's all ya told him?"

"Waal - no," Buck admitted slowly. "I happened to mention that Vin had been shot, and - "

"Buck, the man's just suffered a life-threatening illness," the healer snapped angrily. "He needs rest and quiet if he's going to recover completely, not some damn fool like you filling his head with things that could wait 'til he's stronger!" Buck hung his head despondently.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't think."

"That's the trouble with ya," Nathan went on tersely. "Y'never think! Now, just go before ya do any more harm."

The ladies man stared at him for a moment and Nathan's anger softened a little when he saw the hurt in his eyes but before he could say anything to make amends Buck just snatched up his jacket and hat and stomped out of the clinic. The healer winced as the door was slammed shut and he was grateful that Rain had been waylaid by Mary, allowing him to return to the clinic alone. He was glad that she had not witnessed his friend's fit of pique. As Nathan began to check the gunslinger Chris roused himself enough to defend his friend.

"Don't be so... hard on him," he said slowly. "He thought he was doing the right thing."

"Mebbe."

Nathan laid a hand on Chris' brow, feeling the heat there once again. Reaching for a piece of clean linen and a bowl of water he sighed. He knew the gunslinger would have eventually found out what Vin had done but Buck's premature disclosure had been too much, too soon. As he placed the cloth across Chris' forehead he hoped that all his hard work of the last few days had not just been undone by a few careless words..

Ezra lay in his bed listening carefully.

He had already woken several times during the last few hours and checked that Vin Tanner was okay. The tracker lay curled on his side on the floor of Ezra's room, a light blanket tangled around him. After the mammoth drinking session the previous evening Vin had been incapable of staggering even the short distance to his wagon and Ezra had finally managed to get him up the stairs where the tracker had promptly passed out on the floor of the gambler's room. None too sober himself, Ezra had simply tossed a blanket over his friend and crawled into bed.

Now he was feeling a little guilty. Vin was not one to drink to excess and the Southerner was concerned that the tracker had not yet stirred. The Texan was usually an early riser; however, this morning was an exception to the rule. Even though he could hear the snores coming from the immobile shape on the floor he was worried that Vin would be extremely the worse for wear when he eventually woke up.

The gambler dozed for a little longer but then he was suddenly wide-awake as he heard the tracker scramble to his feet with a groan. As he turned over to say something Vin was already out of the door. With a sigh, Ezra forced himself out of his comfortable bed, slipping on his jacket as he followed Vin down the stairs and out to the back.

He shook his head in sympathy as Vin was violently ill and he watched as the tracker rinsed his face in cold water from the nearest horse trough. The gambler had been there on many occasions and he knew how awful the Texan must be feeling.

He continued to watch as Vin went along the back of the building and up the side alley towards the main street. In his current hung-over state the tracker would not have noticed a bull elk trailing along behind him and Ezra continued to follow him until he reached the main street. As Vin walked slowly in the direction of the clinic the gambler decided that breakfast and coffee seemed like a remarkably good idea, and then he would join his friend to check on Chris Larabee.

Vin was no quite sure how he managed to reach the door of Nathan's clinic without collapsing. Each step jarred his aching head and the bright sunshine made his eyes prickle as it reflected off of every shiny surface.

His mouth felt as dry as a desert, and his stomach was still making tiny growls of protest as he pushed open the door of the clinic and stepped into the darkened room. Nathan glanced up from where he was sitting at the table drinking coffee and despite the tracker's nauseous expression he could not help smiling.

"Ya look like ya had a good night," he said.

"Don't!" Vin winced at the loudness of his own voice. "I'm gonna shoot Ezra when I see him!" He slumped into the second chair, holding his head as though afraid it was going to fall off. "Ya got anything for a headache?"

Nathan had been forewarned by Buck and he was prepared for the tracker's plaintive request. Reaching for a cup he poured some hot water into it and stirred it vigorously before passing it to the suffering Texan.

"Drink that," he ordered. "It'll help clear yer head and settle yer stomach."

Vin obediently drank the potion and then leaned back with a groan and put his hands over his eyes.

"The whiskey was okay," he stated softly. "But that fancy foreign brandy was a big mistake!" A chair scraped back noisily as Nathan got up and dropped a hand briefly on Vin's shoulder.

"Just sit there while I see to Chris," he said, and Vin suddenly looked around in surprise.

"Chris?" The tracker glanced across at the bed, seeing the damp cloth draped over the gunslinger's forehead, and he turned a questioning face to Nathan. "What's wrong?"

"He's had a bit of a setback but he'll be okay."

"What happened?"

"Well... " Nathan paused, a little reluctant to go into details.

"What?" the tracker demanded.

"Buck was here earlier. He told Chris how I got the syringe and that ya'd been hurt."

"Aw hell!" There was nothing else Vin could say even though he knew that Chris would have found out sooner or later. Rising gingerly to his feet he followed the healer over to the bed and watched as Nathan took the almost dry cloth from Chris' brow and rinsed it in the water before wringing it out and replacing it. Now that the gunslinger had been shaved Vin could clearly see the fevered flush back on his cheeks and he silently cursed Buck for his tactless, insensitive comments.

"I'm gonna make some coffee," Nathan said, squeezing past Vin. "D'you want some?" The tracker nodded, and immediately regretted the action.

"Sounds like a good idea," he replied, easing himself into the vacant chair. As he watched the sleeping gunslinger he suddenly saw Chris' mouth twitch and he leaned forward. "Chris?" he called softly and he gave a lop-sided grin as the hazel eyes opened. However, when Chris continued to stare at him his expression serious Vin started to feel a little uncomfortable. "If yerr gonna yell at me, do it quietly. My head feels fit to bust!" Despite the absurdity of the tracker's comment, Chris did not smile.

"Why'd you do it, Vin?" The tracker was not absolutely certain what Chris was referring to but he assumed he meant the ride to Silver Creek and back.

"Hadta be done. Ya weren't getting any better."

"But that was a helluva ride for someone who'd been shot." Vin glanced across at Nathan but the healer was making himself busy with the coffee. The tracker already knew his views on the matter.

"Buck and his big mouth!" The slight grin on his face took the sting from his words. "Weren't nothin' but a scratch!" Chris shifted in the bed, waving off Vin's hand as he started to help him.

"You took a big risk for me and I'm grateful, but I won't have anyone losing their life because of it. I won't take that chance again."

The gunslinger fixed Vin with a firm gaze. As their eyes locked the tracker could almost see into Chris Larabee's soul and it reminded him of the promise he had made to the gunslinger, even though it was doubtful that his friend remembered.

"It was my decision an' I'd do it again if I had to."

There was a long silence and Chris glanced sideways at his friend, seeing the haunted look on his face. "I really thought I was gonna die, Vin," he confessed eventually, his words pitched low so Nathan could not hear.

"I told ya then I wasn't about to let that happen," the tracker stated, the emotion in his voice leaving Chris in no doubt about how he had felt that night. "Besides... " Vin looked down at the small pouch hanging around the gunslinger's neck and Chris followed his gaze, unaware until that point that he had been wearing the talisman. He knew how much the Texan believed in its healing powers and how both the giver and receiver had to be worthy of the gift, and he could not think of a worthier giver than Vin Tanner. The significance of the sentiment behind the pouch was not lost on the gunslinger and he considered himself honoured that Vin had made him the recipient of it. Reaching up he fingered the talisman thoughtfully.

"I know what this means to you. Thanks."

Vin did not reply; he just gave a faint half-smile and nodded as Chris held his hand out. The tracker reached down to grasp it, his fingers closing about Chris' wrist as the gunslinger did the same, the open handshake a sign of the undeniable trust between them.

"Vin." The Texan looked up startled as Nathan handed him a cup of strong coffee. "How's the head feel now?"

"Better." Now that he thought about it Vin realised the headache was easing and his stomach did not feel quite so rebellious although it would still be a while before he could face food. "Maybe I won't shoot Ezra jus' yet." Chris laughed softly and then gave a chesty cough and his smile faded at Nathan's words.

"Sounds like ya could do wit' another dose of the medicine."

"Not with the needle." The gunslinger sounded dismayed and Nathan nodded apologetically.

"Sorry, Chris. Blame Buck."

As Nathan started to prepare the potion from the fresh supply of flowers that Josiah had brought him the previous evening Vin continued to talk quietly with Chris. However, the gunslinger was a little distracted, his attention drawn to what Nathan was doing.

The minutes ticked by and Vin helped himself to a second cup of coffee as Nathan waited for the elixir to cool down. As the tracker dropped back into the chair the clinic door opened and Ezra entered, looking remarkably cheerful.

"Good morning, gentlemen." His greeting encompassed all three men but he directed his next question to Chris. "And how are you feeling this fine morning?"

"I've been better," the gunslinger admitted. This was the first time Chris had spoken to the gambler since he had arrived back from Diablo Falls almost two weeks ago. "But I'll be back on my feet real soon."

"I'm delighted to hear it." There was genuine relief in the gambler's voice as he turned and peered at the tracker. "My, my, Mr Tanner, you don't look your normal cheerful self this morning! Am I to deduce from your dour expression that you did not enjoy our little celebration last night?"

"Shut up! I ain't talking to ya!" Vin's tone was petulant as he glared at the gambler, and Nathan laughed out loud.

"Well, that's an improvement," the healer said. "A while back he was ready to shoot ya!"

"I still might!"

Ezra put his hand over his heart in mock horror but he was pleased that he had helped the Texan throw off the worries of the last twelve days.

Even while he had been talking Nathan had been checking the coneflower infusion to see if it was ready. He had already sterilised the syringe and now he drew a measured dose into the tube, laying the instrument down on a piece of clean cloth in readiness.

"Vin - d'ya mind?" The tracker moved aside as Nathan placed the syringe on the bedside table and he ignored Chris' look of wide-eyed alarm as he wiped the gunslinger's arm with an alcohol-soaked cloth.

"You really gotta do this?" Chris asked as Nathan picked up the syringe and he realised just how large the needle was.

"Yeah, I do, but it won't hurt."

The gunslinger did not believe him for a minute and he screwed his eyes shut and turned his head away. "Just get on with it."

"Why Mr Larabee, I didn't know you could be so squeamish." Hearing Ezra's innocent words Nathan looked at him sharply, remembering the gambler's hasty departure the first time he had used it.

"Just shut up, Ezra," Chris grated, and then he gave a yelp as Nathan deftly slid the needle in. "Aw Jeez, Nathan. I thought you said it wouldn't hurt?"

"I lied." Nathan patted the gunslinger's bare shoulder and then suddenly noticed the queasy look on Vin's face. Before the healer could say anything the Texan's stomach did a slow roll, and he hurried out of the door before he threw up in front of his friends.

"Guess I'm not the only squeamish one," Chris said, flexing his arm.

"Maybe the brandy had summat to do wit' it," the healer pointed out.

"And such a waste, too." The gambler sounded mortified as he considered the price of French brandy.

Nathan pulled the blankets up around Chris. "Reckon I'd best go see if he's alright," he said. "Ezra, if yer staying, don't tire him!" With that he stepped outside to check on the rather embarrassed Texan.

"Brandy?" The question came from Chris. "How come I've never sampled that?"

"I owe him." The gambler was suddenly serious as he sank into the empty chair. "Have you any idea what he's been through? Do you know how worried he was about you? Yet he still found time to prove my innocence." Ezra shook his head. "He's a remarkable man."

"I know. He's a good friend." Chris' soft reply almost put the gambler to shame, and he wondered how he could have been so stupid. Of course Chris knew; he was the one who knew the tracker best of all and he did not need anyone else to tell him. The gunslinger looked at Ezra and a faint shudder went through him as he recalled his terrifying nightmare.

"Is something wrong?" The sharp-eyed Southerner had seen Chris quiver and he wondered what had caused it.

"Vin told me who killed Kirkland. I knew you couldn't've done it."

Ezra seemed slightly taken aback by the comment. His relationship with Chris Larabee was wary at the best of times but he was amazed that the gunslinger would have such faith in him.

"Why, thank you, Chris." The gambler could not keep the surprise from his voice. "I know Buck had his doubts - even I had my doubts - but Vin didn't."

"Maybe he knows you better than you think," Chris pointed out.

"Better than I know myself."

Even as he said it Ezra knew that it was true. A master of self-doubt, he had not thought that anyone would believe him innocent especially in light of all the dammning evidence carefully manipulated against him. Even once he realised that he could not have done it he felt a sense of betrayal that some of his friends still had misgivings about him. The gambler had seriously considered running the night Vin had caught up with him at Chris' cabin, but in the end he had placed his trust in the tracker and for that he was eternally thankful.

"I certainly have Mr Tanner to thank for my ‘vin'-dication." He gave a half-smile at the intentional pun, trying to pass the whole thing off as inconsequential but Chris could see the truth in his eyes. "Well, I suppose I ought to go. I would not want to incur Mr Jackson's wrath if I tire you." Ezra could see how weary Chris was already and he used Nathan's warning as an excuse as he rose to his feet.

"No - stay a bit longer." It was almost a plea from the gunslinger. He wanted to talk to his friend. "Tell me some more about Catherine Kirkland. Vin didn't say much."

Dropping back into the chair, surprised by the gunslinger's request, Ezra began to tell Chris what he wanted to know and Nathan's warning be damned.

EPILOGUE

Over the next week Chris Larabee continued to make a slow but steady recovery from his illness although the cough continued to trouble him somewhat and he was still slightly feverish at nights.

Much to his relief there was no further need for Nathan to use the syringe to administer the medicine and he was able to take it orally in steadily decreasing quantities. The healer was also especially pleased when he managed to consume a little thin broth the day after his relapse. Chris hated having to be spoon-fed every drop but he was still too weak to do it himself. Nathan also limited the number of visitors dropping by the clinic; the gunslinger still tired very quickly and the healer would not risk any further setbacks.

Buck stayed away for a full two days, angry with himself and filled with remorse over what he had done, and it was JD and Josiah who finally persuaded the ladies man to go and see his friend. He apologised to both Chris and Nathan for his stupidity and he was relieved when the healer told him he would hear no more on the matter.

It was not long before Mary turned up at the clinic with Billy in tow. Her son had been pestering her to see Chris for days, and although Rain had told her that the gunslinger was progressing well Mary was eager to find out for herself. Entering the room with a hesitant smile on her face, she was surprised to find Chris sitting propped up in bed looking remarkably healthy for one who had come so close to death. He seemed pleased to see her but was soon distracted by Billy, who promptly scrambled up beside him and demanded to know when he was going to take him fishing.

Rain watched the blonde woman as she stood regarding her son, a wistful smile on her lips as he talked animatedly to the convalescing man. She and Mary had become firm friends in the short time she had been in town and she now knew the depth of affection the older woman felt for Chris. Although Rain had urged her to reveal her true feelings for the gunslinger she could see that Mary was not ready to do so yet. Perhaps one day she would find the courage.

Despite Nathan's restrictions Vin had been in and around the clinic for most of the week, and he was there when Rain expressed her desire to go back to her village, much to Nathan's disappointment. However, the healer had enjoyed her company and had been prepared for this although he knew he would be unable to leave Chris at this time.

"I'd be happy to ride back wit' her in the mornin'," Vin said, as Nathan mulled over the problem. "I gotta collect Peso anyhow."

It was the middle of the evening and the supper things had been cleared away and Rain was busy in the bedroom packing up her few belongings.

"I'd be obliged if ya'd see her home safely," the healer replied gratefully.

"Why don't you take Pony?" Chris suggested, offering the tracker his black gelding. "He can probably do with the exercise and I don't reckon I'll be riding him any time soon."

"Yer right there!" Nathan stated emphatically. "I ain't letting ya out o'that bed for at least another week!" Chris looked horrified at the remark but Vin merely laughed, ignoring the baleful glare the gunslinger threw in his direction.

"I'd best be going. I promised Ezra a quick game of poker. I'll see ya in the morning, cowboy."

"Try not to get too drunk this time!" Chris made the comment lightly but he would have given anything to join his friends in the saloon. Nathan had made it quite clear that there were some things the gunslinger would not be able to touch for some time, and he was going to miss the whiskey and his occasional cheroot most of all.

Vin made no reply. He just smirked as he went out of the door.

+ + + + + + +

"Y'know, I'd never really noticed these flowers before," Vin observed as he held Chris' black gelding in check beside the blue roan ridden by Rain. They had passed large clusters of the brightly nodding purple flowers as they made their way towards the Seminole village and the seed of an idea was planted in the tracker's mind.

"It is a very special plant to my people even though there are others that we use," the girl told him.

"Well, I'm glad it is. I ain't thanked ya fer bringin' it to Nathan. Reckon it saved Chris' life."

Rain looked at him, and a smile lit up her face. "You provided the means. He is a fortunate man to have a friend such as you."

"Reckon I'm the fortunate one," Vin replied softly. "He's like the brother I never had." The tracker did not know why he had said that but it was true even though he would never admit it to Chris and he knew Rain would never betray the confidence, not even to Nathan.

"Brothers do not have to share the same blood. They just need to share the same soul."

The tracker did not know how to answer that but he remained thoughtful as they continued on' However, there was something he needed to do before he returned to Four Corners.

+ + + + + + +

Even though he had never been there before the place was not difficult to find.

Vin halted his black gelding some distance away, looking down on the remains of the small property. From where he sat it was still possible to see the outline of the main building, the charred uprights a poignant reminder of one man's vision and a dream that might have been.

The tracker kneed his own mount forward, Pony on a lead rope beside him, and dismounted beside the broken-down corral just beyond the forlorn windmill. Looping both geldings reins over the fence, he unfastened a small bundle from his saddle and walked slowly across to an enclosed area just past the ruins of the house. Resting his hand on the top of the fence he stood in silence for a while, staring down at the two graves. The lettering on the markers was still clearly visible but Vin would have had no trouble identifying them anyway and he was painfully aware that there could so easily have been a third.

Leaning over the railing, Vin laid the bunch of coneflowers at the foot and between the two graves and then removed his hat before lowering his head. From the moment in Nathan's clinic when Chris had been so confused, the Texan had intended to make this trip. In his delirium the gunslinger had thought that his family was still alive and he had begged Vin to go and see them. The tracker was now keeping that promise.

Glancing up, he looked at the smaller grave and wondered what Adam Larabee had been like. Vin had seen the way Chris was with Billy Travis and it was strange that the tough gunfighter had such a natural affinity with children. Adam would definitely have brought out the boy in the man and Vin would have loved to have seen that.

Turning his gaze to the left the tracker had the feeling that he almost knew the woman who was buried beside her son. Buck and, to a lesser extent, Chris himself had shared some of their precious memories of Sarah Larabee and Vin's own intuitiveness had helped to fill in a few more of the gaps. She had been a remarkable woman to have tamed such a wild and reckless individual and their relationship must have been something special.

"I wish I'd known ya, Sarah."

Vin was not aware that he had spoken out loud but the sad tranquillity of the place had affected him deeply. A gentle breeze tugged at his hair, carrying the faint scent of wild lavender, and even the birds seemed unnaturally quiet.

"I wish I'd seen the beauty of the woman who stole Chris' heart." Vin sighed. If Sarah and Adam were still alive then the tracker might never have met Chris and that was the cruellest irony of all. "I don't know why things happened the way they did, but I feel like I've known him all my life. He's the best friend I've ever had and I ain't about to lose him yet." Vin paused, thinking back to that night before his ride to Silver Creek and his tears of despair at the gunslinger's fear. "It came mighty close and I know when the time comes Chris'll be here wit' ya both but ya can't have him yet. I need him." The Texan's voice dropped to a whisper as he said the last three words, and then he lapsed into silence.

Vin remained standing there for a few minutes longer, staring down at the purple coneflowers as the petals fluttered in the breeze. When he had seen them growing along the trail on the way to the Seminole village he had decided that they would be a fitting tribute to lay on the graves of Chris' wife and son.

Placing his hat firmly on his head, Vin Tanner turned and walked slowly away from this place of the dead. The living were calling him back to Four Corners.

The End