By Grace Alone by JIN

Part One

He was wrong. Horribly, desperately, tragically wrong. And now the men he treasured most would pay for his mistake. The tornadic winds bearing down upon them would tear the seven apart, literally and figuratively.

Vin burrowed down into the shallow creak bed, glancing anxiously at his companions who followed suit. It wasn't enough. Could not possibly be enough if the widespread storm continued on its path and plowed over them. If Fate were kind, the black cloud would sweep him up and leave the others untouched. Nature's winds could scatter him in pieces over this land he loved - better that than to lose just one of his friends. For to lose just one would surely break him apart more painfully than any physical force ever could. To lose just one would mean losing everything - because it would be his fault.

+ + + + + + +

Over the past few months, the seven men had worked themselves to the point of exhaustion. An endless stream of bandits, outlaws, and random troublemakers had crossed their path, testing the seven's skills, endurance, and patience. When Chris Larabee noted increasingly short tempers and incessant bickering among his men, he decided some "time off" might be in order. Originally, he'd suggested the men pair off, so as not to leave the town unprotected. However, when Judge Travis arrived in town unexpectedly, and several of Four Corner's male citizens stepped forward to assist him, the boys were given the opportunity to spend a few days away concurrently. Chris suspected the whole thing had actually been a plot, probably hatched by Mary Travis, to give everyone a break from the seven bull-headed and recently less-than-hospitable peacekeepers.

In any case, the Larabee gang took the not-so-subtle hint, and to their leader's surprise, determined they would ride off into the sunset for a few days of rest and relaxation together. He realized it was a testament to the bonds they had forged, the family they had become, that they chose to spend this time as a group.

The men had been working together for well over a year now, but this was the first time there were no criminals to chase after – or chasing after them. The first time no one needed rescued or mended. The first opportunity they had to enjoy each other's company with no pressures attached; to celebrate the men they'd become and the friendships they'd embraced. Warm days were spent swimming and fishing, or leisurely riding along the scenic trails. In the evenings, they played cards while regaling each other with wild stories, laughter and whiskey flowing in abundance.

On the morning of the third day, Vin awoke first, as was his custom. By the heaviness in the air, he knew rain would hit by day's end. When the others joined him for a light breakfast, he suggested they head back towards town, conditions being right for a decent spring storm. He didn't figure there was a big hurry though, and so the men took their time packing up camp, all in high spirits after two days of peace and companionship.

They'd been riding several hours when the sky began to take on a noticeably strange hue. The hot, humid air now seemed to weigh down upon every living thing, subduing the men considerably. Naturally, they looked to their tracker for direction. They trusted Vin. Trusted him to read the signs that pointed to a trail they followed. Trusted him to watch their backs from the rooftops. Trusted him, in fact, with their very lives. And they trusted him now to tell them if ominous weathered threatened and they needed to take cover.

So when Vin looked up at the darkening sky and told his friends they'd have time to reach the shelter he led them towards, they didn't question him. He'd bypassed a fairly protected over-hang, a second choice, to continue on to the more enclosed caverns a few miles ahead. But as the black, swirling cloud burst forth from the western horizon, he knew they'd never make it in time. Not to the shelter ahead, and not to the one they'd passed. He considered turning them all due south, to try to outrun the storm, or at least to escape its full force, but the shear width of the phenomenon made that possibility unlikely, as well. They'd have to go to the ground now, their best option being the creek bed they had casually followed. They let loose of their mounts, knowing the animals had a better chance of outrunning the storm or instinctively finding shelter on their own.

Vin pulled up from behind the boulder where he lay, and gasped at the frightening display of nature's wrath. He had never seen anything like this. Never experienced any storm so enormous, so fast, and so furious. And he'd led his friends right into the middle of it. He'd never been so wrong.

+ + + + + + +

Chris hunkered down next to Vin, near enough that he could hear the other man's short, rapid breaths. They lay as close to the banks of the rocky stream as possible, just barely touching the cool water's edge. Peering behind him, the gunman noted that the others had naturally paired off.

Buck and JD lay several yards downstream from him and Vin. Buck nearly covered JD with his long body, and in the eerie stillness, Chris could just barely make out the kid's soft protests.

Several feet beyond them, Josiah had taken almost the exact same position with Ezra. Larabee knew the big man probably had some insane hope of keeping the lighter con man from blowing away – just as Buck hoped to protect JD. In reality, they all knew it wouldn't matter. A twister that could scatter a barn for miles, was no match for a man – no matter his size.

Nathan brought up the rear, and the leader could imagine him thinking that, by taking that position, he could somehow save them all. If the wind per chance picked up one of his friends, he would magically reach up and snatch them from its evil clutches – just as he'd managed to snatch them from the jaws of death so many other times. Even from a distance and in the increasing darkness, Chris could see the look of determination in the dark-skinned man's eyes. Nathan had to be all right, so that he could take care of the others.

Chris turned then to his partner beside him. Vin had stuck his head up, and the blond could see the look of horror etched on his handsome features. He had never seen his friend afraid – not in the countless battles they'd fought together. He knew the man did not fear death, but he was terrified now. As Larabee reached up to pull the lean tracker back to the ground, Vin turned his eyes to him in shock. The gunman suddenly understood the rational behind his friend's fear – he blamed himself.

He wanted to tell Tanner this was not his fault. He even opened his mouth to say the words, but he found himself unable to speak them. He had counted on Vin. They had all counted on Vin.

In the end, it didn't matter anyway. Had he spoken, the Texan could not have heard him, for soon an impossibly loud, roaring sound filled the air. Blackness enveloped them, and the heavy stillness seemed to briefly stop time. All hell broke loose then, as rain and hail and dirt and pebbles pelted the earth like hard driven nails. Destructive winds swirled and sucked and carried off all in their path - shrubs, trees, animals, and men. The deafening sound and darkness, wind and rain encompassed all for miles and seemed to last forever, yet it was over in minutes, as it claimed its unpredictable path and veered off to the northeast.

+ + + + + + +

Although the black funnel had lifted, heavy rain remained. One man rose from the muddy ground and strained to see through the downpour, gasping at the destruction that surrounded him. Tall, proud trees that had once lined the picturesque little stream now lay in a jumbled array of twisted limbs, branches and roots. None remained – not a tree or shrub left standing for as far as he could see. Nathan grunted as he noted the ache in his leg. Something had hit him there, but he was otherwise unhurt. He prayed the others had faired as well.

As he peered into the rain, he realized in sudden panic that he couldn't see any of the other men. Surely the storm could not have carried them all off and left just him? Hearing a soft, low moan coming from several yards behind him, he turned to see a man struggling to stand. Hadn't they all been in front of him? Was he turned around, or had the storm lifted one of them and carried him downstream? He headed for his friend, and as the rain finally slacked off, he made out the unmistakable form of Vin. The tracker limped heavily, and held his left arm tightly against his side. The left side of his face was scraped raw and had already begun to turn purple along his cheekbone and temple.

Nathan splashed through the shallow water to aid the injured man, but was abruptly shoved aside.

"See t' the others. I'm fine," the tracker mumbled. Where was Chris? Wasn't he beside him? Vin remembered being tossed through air like a rag doll, and landing heavily on his left side. He had no idea how far he'd gone, or what had happened to the man next to him.

Groaning in pain from injuries he refused to acknowledge, he scrambled up the bank onto the surrounding land. In a state of clear panic now, he searched desperately for Chris, for any of the other men.

Within minutes, the rain slowed to a mere mist and the sky lightened. Vin saw the gunman then, lying flat on his back not far from where he himself had landed, although Chris had hit land as opposed to the creek. The anguished tracker called out to Nathan for help, and was surprised to find the healer right beside him. Leaning over the blond, Jackson felt for a pulse and, after a brief check for further injuries, rose to move on.

Tanner grabbed the ex-slave by the arm, "Where are you goin'? What about Chris?"

"He's breathin', Vin. And from what I can see, there ain't nothin' I can do for him right now, except wait for him to wake up. I can't say the same for the others. Don't even know where they are. They could be bleedin' or suffocatin' or drownin' for all I know. I gotta find them."

Of course. What had he been thinking? With a brief look at his best friend, Vin followed after Nathan, as quickly as he could manage. His leg pained him something fierce, but he ignored it as he slid back down into the narrow stream. Piles of debris littered the rocky bed, and he almost wept with relief when he saw movement from one of them.

Nathan saw the signs of life, as well, and rushed to assist his trapped companions. Lifting a large tree branch and several smaller ones, he was able to free Josiah's upper body. Vin rushed to help him, and soon the older man's entire body was freed. The preacher started to turn himself onto his back, nearly forgetting the smaller man who lay beneath him.

"Hold on, Josiah," Nathan cautioned. "Roll this way so you don't crush Ezra."

The preacher did as he was told, barely managing to stifle a scream at the jarring of his legs. His right one was broken, he had no doubt, and he cursed inwardly at that. He'd be of little help to Nathan this time around. He managed a small smile as he grumbled, "Getting too old for this."

Nathan shook his head as he carefully climbed over his friend to reach the far too still body of the gambler. "You and me both," he replied.

Vin had managed to climb onto a fallen branch that lay on the other side of Ezra and had gently begun to turn him over with his good arm. So far, he'd been able to hide his injured arm from Nathan, and he intended to keep it that way. Nathan had enough to worry about - more than enough. He tried to focus all of his concern on the gambler, pushing aside for the moment the nagging worry that, as of yet, they had not heard from, or seen a trace of, Buck and JD.

Nathan reached down to help Vin turn the gambler face up. The man had been lying face down in the creek bed, and Jackson worried that he could have suffocated in the thick, wet dirt. As he gently pulled mud from the unresponsive man's nose and mouth, Ezra gasped sharply, then coughed harshly while attempting to pull air into his deprived lungs. Standish sat up suddenly and gasped again as he clutched his chest. Nathan wasn't sure if the sound came from the pain of broken ribs, or the pain of seeing himself completely covered in mud. Either way, the healer breathed a sigh of relief. Four accounted for – injured, but alive. He cautioned Ezra to stay put as he continued on to search for the missing pair.

"I assure you . . . I have no intention of moving . . . at the moment," Standish responded weakly as he lowered his head back onto the soft ground.

Vin moved ahead to where he thought the missing pair should be. The broken birches and pines nearly obliterated the stream in places, and he had trouble recognizing the exact location where Buck and JD had gone down. Of course, they could have been blown downstream like he and Chris had been. Vin pushed that thought aside – they could be anywhere, trapped anywhere, if that were the case.

He began throwing aside limbs in desperation, praying for a sign of their whereabouts. He stopped for a moment when he thought he heard something and listened intently. Nathan had joined him and they shared a look – he had heard it, as well. As they hurried to remove more of the debris, the sound became stronger, and they soon recognized JD's soft voice calling for help. Time stretched on interminably until they finally got a glimpse of their friends' bodies. Blood soaked JD's shirt and Buck's head, leaving Vin with a sick feeling in his stomach. They had to be all right, he couldn't believe otherwise.

Nathan freed up JD and found he had a nasty bleeding wound on his back. But the kid was able to ask, "Is Buck all right?"

"I'll get to him in a minute, JD. Let me get this bleeding stopped." The healer tore up his own shirt into bandages, thankful that he still wore long johns in the early spring. He pressed against the gaping hole in JD's back, trying to block out the young man's agonizing moans.

Next he turned to Buck. The man was deeply unconscious, but he passed the most important test – he continued to breathe. Nathan wrapped another strip of cloth around the ugly wound on the back of the lanky man's head, wondering vaguely what had happened to Tanner.

Vin had climbed back up onto the banks, trying and failing to calm his emotions. All of them alive, but all of them down - all except for him and Nathan. Oh God, why couldn't it just have taken him and been done with it?

The nausea that had been slowly creeping up on Vin took him by full force. He stumbled ahead to kneel down behind a large boulder and empty his stomach in privacy, trying to hide the sounds of his sickness from Nathan. He groaned as he wiped a hand across his mouth. He wasn't even sure anymore what hurt and what didn't. But it didn't matter anyway. It couldn't matter – he couldn't matter, because he was the only one left standing to help.

Limping back to where the healer still bent over Buck, he was startled when Nathan rose suddenly and gripped him by the arm.

"Where the hell did you take off to?"

Vin instinctively shrugged off the dark hand, but didn't answer.

Jackson bellowed, "I need you here! You're all I got right now. We sure as hell ain't leaving these men lying in the mud and I can't lift them by myself."

Vin looked down and nodded slightly.

Nathan's fear and frustration continued to pour out on the silent tracker. "And you ain't gonna be any use at all if you don't let me splint that arm. Now get me a decent piece of wood – Lord knows we've got enough to choose from – and get yer jacket off."

Nathan couldn't believe he'd spoken to Vin like that. He surely didn't deserve it. Or did he? Had he not lead them out in the open, to relatively flat land, they wouldn't be in this mess. Had they stayed up in the hills, had they reached the shelter, had they started later – or earlier. Nathan remembered telling Vin that every once in awhile, a man could be wrong. This time, though, the consequences of being wrong were just too overwhelming.

When Nathan finally got a look at Vin's arm, he was relieved to find it was simple break of the smaller bone in his forearm. He swiftly snapped the bone into place and wrapped the crude splint with strips from the tracker's shirt. Vin had clamped his jaws tightly, but made no sound. Afterwards, the color drained from his face, and Nathan winced as the man wretched violently. But Vin recovered quickly and soon joined Nathan back in the creek bed.

"I can get Josiah. You see if you can get Ezra," Jackson instructed.

With a loud groan, Josiah raised himself up onto his good leg and wrapped an arm around his tall friend's shoulders. Slowly and painfully, they inched their way up the bank and onto the grassy area where Chris still lay.

Nathan noted that the gunslinger had begun to stir as he settled the big preacher on the ground next to him. He made a move to check on their leader just as Vin approached with Ezra. Jackson could see that Tanner struggled mightily with the gambler, who leaned heavily against him and wheezed with each labored breath. How would he do this? All three needing him, and two more in the creek. Lord, how would he do this?

Vin carefully eased the wounded man to the ground, biting his lip to hold back the pain from his own injuries. Damn leg wanted to give him fits, but he had two more men waiting. After making sure Ezra was as comfortable as possible, and stealing a quick glance at Chris, he turned back into the stream for another round.

It would take them both to get Buck up. Nathan took his upper body, leaving the lighter half for Vin. Being tall and lean, Buck was not heavy so much as awkward – his long limbs spilling out in all directions as the two men struggled to get him onto land. This time, Vin did cry out in pain as fire lanced through his broken arm from the weight of Wilmington's legs. Long moments later, the rogue lay next to Ezra - far too still for anyone's comfort.

Vin went back for JD, who was weak from blood loss, but lucid enough to despair over the condition of his best friend. As the young man threw his arm around Vin's shoulders and tried to carry at least some of his own weight up the banks, he asked repeatedly, "Is Buck gonna be okay? He was breathing, right? Everybody's gonna be okay, right?"

Nathan tried to reassure him as he settled in on the ground next to the others. "Yeah, we're all gonna be fine." But Vin saw the doubt in his deep brown eyes.

Five wounded men now lay stretched out on the wet grass. Bloody, bruised, and broken – and Vin had to take a deep breath to hold back the sickness that threatened again. He and Nathan looked at their surroundings. They had nothing. No shelter, no horses, no supplies, no food.

No choice.

Both men came to the same conclusion at the same time. Nathan would have to stay with the injured and Vin would have to go for help. The healer caught his breath for a moment and took a good look at the man who represented their only hope. Sweat ran in a slow stream down the tracker's abused face. He continued to hold his left arm close to his chest, and Jackson wondered guiltily if he shouldn't have checked the man's ribs. The limp had become more pronounced, and he hadn't had time to look at that, either. It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn't checked because he didn't want to know. He needed Vin too badly to allow him to be hurt.

With a weary sigh, Nathan knelt beside the tracker as he filled his canteen with water. "Let me take a look at you, Vin."

Vin shook his head as he stood. "No time," he said shortly.

Nathan grabbed his arm and said, "Vin . . ."

"Ain't gonna matter anyway, Nathan. You don't have any supplies. And if you did . . ." he motioned towards the men on the ground. Nathan heard the uncharacteristic self-doubt in the young man's voice as he continued, "Horses might come back here. Might go on t' town. I'd go after ‘em, but I'm not sure which way they went. Ground's too stirred up for me t' track ‘em. Reckon the best thing would be fer me t' head towards town."

"That's a good ten miles." Nathan shook his head as he added softly, "You'll never make it that far."

Vin figured it was closer to fifteen, but he didn't argue the fact. "Reckon there ain't much of a choice." He paused before pointing out the only bright spot, "You got water and you can build a fire if you need to." He swallowed as he took one last, longing look at his friends. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Now would be the time to say he was sorry. But Vin couldn't bring himself to speak the apology. It wasn't enough, and it felt shallow and worthless. His only chance for redemption lay in his ability to find help for his friends. They would never trust him again, but maybe, if he made it in time, they would forgive him.

Now would be the time the to tell him not to eat himself up over this. But the words stuck in Nathan's throat. Although he knew Vin would never do anything to hurt his friends, they were hurting now, and badly. They'd trusted their tracker, and no matter how the healer looked at it, Vin had let them down. Later, he hoped he'd be able to sort it all out and see it differently, but right now, his burdens were just too great.

So with a light handshake and a nod of the head, Vin set off. Nathan watched his slow, arduous progress until it became too painful to do so, and he turned away – from one hopeless situation, to another.

Part Two

The sun had come out just in time to slide serenely behind the mountain range as evening approached. Nathan did indeed build a fire, although not so much for the warmth as for the light and the comfort it offered. He felt used up already, and the true night had not even begun. Used up and disheartened, and surprised that he would feel surprised by that. He thought he would have learned this lesson by now – how everything can change in the blink of an eye. How everything you hold dear can be wrenched from you in an instant.

He thought back wistfully to the previous night. He recalled the men teasing JD again about his inability to tell a decent joke. Vin became the next victim, with his distinct lack of musical talent the target. By evening's end, none of the men had escaped the sarcastic scrutiny of the others. Even Chris accepted their good-natured ribbing about everything from his clothes to his trademark glare.

Nathan turned his gaze to the gunman now. The men were laid out in a semi-circle around the small blaze, with the blond on the end, in the same spot where he and Vin had come upon him. The healer was afraid to move the man. He feared a back injury, and didn't want to aggravate the condition by moving him unnecessarily. There was no where to go anyway. Chris had come to for a few brief minutes here and there, just enough to moan and to swallow the water that Nathan offered.

Water was all he had to offer any of the men. He thought he'd experienced hell before, but all of the other awful events in his life seemed to be merely a prelude to this. These men who had become his brothers all lay injured before him, and he was powerless to help them. For a man such as Nathan Jackson, nothing could be more frustrating, or more frightening.

Josiah still lay next to Chris. Nathan had managed to splint the broken limb - no easy task considering the big man's size and the fact that he had no help. Bless Ezra, who in spite of his fractured ribs, had offered to lend a hand. Jackson had turned him down, of course, fearing the con man may have more internal injuries than they realized. He had accepted the offer of Ezra's shirt, however, to use as more bandages for JD, who continued to bleed from the wound on his back. Buck needed to be stitched up as badly as his young friend, and he had yet to stir, a fact that worried Nathan most of all.

The darkness deepened and a few bright stars popped up unexpectedly. Nathan sighed as he peered at the night sky and thought of his lone, missing friend. He shouldn't have let Vin take off like that. They should have thought of another way. The horses could still come back. Or maybe someone would come upon them. They should have thought of something else. He'd never forgive himself if Vin didn't make it. But then, he wasn't at all sure he could forgive the tracker if the other men didn't make it. Still, he shouldn't have let him take off like that.

+ + + + + + +

Vin had long ago mastered the art of concentration. JD, especially, was amazed at how long the sharpshooter could assume a position of absolute stillness when focusing on the task at hand. He had the opposite situation now, however. This time he needed all of his reserves to put one foot in front of the other. He'd managed pretty well to turn off everything else in his mind, limiting every thought and every breath to the one goal at hand – moving forward. He banished the image of his injured friends, as well as the agony of the various aches and pains that threatened to defeat him. He had to keep going.

When darkness came upon him, he hardly noticed. The full moon provided enough light for him to trudge on, and so he did. Until he slid to the ground softly, silently, and completely unaware.

+ + + + + + +

Chris awoke with a start, and cried out in pain as his back arched in spasms. His clouded brain could not make sense of the agony he endured, but he knew enough to call out to the one man who could stop it.

"Nathan . . ." he groaned.

"Right here, Chris," Nathan assured the gunslinger as he left Buck's side and made his way around the fire to the blond. "Just take it easy now, I'll be right there."

"Don't have much choice . . . can't seem to move."

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked, slightly panicked as he reached Larabee's side. "You got feelin' everywhere, don't you?"

"Too much damn feeling . . . hurt everywhere," Chris answered.

Nathan smiled a bit as he responded, "Reckon so – flyin' through the air like y' did."

The statement triggered a flash of memory – the storm. "The others all right?" The gunman asked weakly.

"Not hardly," Nathan answered reluctantly.

"Tell me," Chris demanded.

Jackson gave him the shortened version of the men's various injuries, before urging the gunman to close his eyes and rest.

"What about Vin?" Chris questioned.

Now how had he thought he could avoid the subject of Tanner? Nathan swallowed the sigh that crept up on him and mumbled, "He went for help."

"He hurt?" the gunman asked anxiously.

The healer dropped his head. Worrying Chris wouldn't help matters. Wouldn't bring Vin back any quicker or any healthier. Wouldn't help Larabee recover. "He's all right. You know Vin."

Yeah, he knew Vin. A nagging thought started to twist itself around Chris's blurry brain, but he couldn't quite grab a hold of it before he dropped off again.

At the sound of a soft groan, Nathan turned to the next man. Josiah looked up at him with weary eyes that spoke of concern for his old friend.

"What's on your mind, Nathan?"

"What's on my mind?" Jackson asked irately. "Look at the five of you! What the hell do you think is on my mind?!"

"Any of us dyin'?" the preacher asked, almost innocently.

"I don't know. I don't think so . . . but I don't know. Any one of you could. I might've missed something. Or infection could get you. I've got nothin' to work with here, you know. Ain't even got anything to ease the pain for y'all. Buck ain't woke up yet. I just don't know."

"You feel better, now that you got that said?"

"No."

"You've done all you can. Contrary to what you believe, we don't expect you to perform miracles."

Nathan only grunted and looked away.

"I suspect there are several reasons . . . for our friend's distress, Josiah. One of which may be . . . the misinformation he divulged to Mr. Larabee," Ezra joined in breathlessly.

Nathan brought his head up to shoot a defensive glare at the gambler.

"That so, Nathan?" Josiah asked. He paused a moment as he considered the earlier conversation between his friend and Chris. "Are you lying about Vin?"

Jackson thought about how to respond, but Ezra answered for him. "Surely you noticed his unhealthy pallor . . . and awkward gait? Mr. Tanner is most definitely not ‘all right'."

"You check him before he left?" Sanchez asked Jackson.

Nathan sighed as he shifted uncomfortably. "No," he nearly whispered.

"Guess that answers what else is on your mind. Why not?"

Angry now, the dark-skinned man raised his voice. "Because it didn't matter! In case you haven't noticed, Vin's the only one besides me on two legs. He had to go. And even if I had wanted him to stay, he wouldn't have done it."

"True enough. I imagine he figured there wasn't much choice. And judging by our circumstances here, I imagine he's right." Josiah added.

"I would also venture to say that our intrepid tracker is blaming himself for the current state of affairs," the gambler added.

"He say that, Nathan?" Josiah asked.

Nathan looked away as he answered, "We didn't talk about that."

Sanchez had known Jackson for a long time, and he caught the edge in his friend's voice. "Are you blaming Vin?"

"I need to check on JD and Buck," Nathan answered as he moved away.

But Josiah grabbed his arm and said, "Storm like that comes up hard and fast. Nobody can predict when or where its gonna hit. Vin couldn't have known."

Buck's timing was always impeccable, and he didn't fail the healer now. His long, low groan brought an abrupt end to the conversation. By the time Nathan had reached the lean man's side, Buck's blue eyes were wide open in agony.

"What the hell took my head off?" he grumbled.

"That you, Buck?" JD asked anxiously. He stifled a gasp as he attempted to sit up and reach for his friend.

"Now hold on!" Nathan barked. "JD, you lay back down. I still ain't got the bleeding all the way stopped and you need to keep still."

"Bleeding? JD's bleeding?" Buck asked as he also made the effort to rise up. Groaning in distress as the vise around his skull tightened, he lowered his aching head back to the ground.

"Now look you two, I need you t' keep still. Yer both gonna be just fine if you do what I tell you. Now keep still," Nathan ordered in no uncertain terms.

Buck responded with a "Yes, Sir!" as he turned his head to smile weakly at JD.

JD had the most ridiculous urge to reach over and hold Buck's hand. Now wouldn't the guys have fun with that? They'd be teasing him for months. Great, now his eyes were tearing up. He just couldn't help it. His back really hurt, and he didn't know how they were going to get out of this. But mostly, he felt like crying because Buck had finally woke up. Thank God. More tears filled his eyes as he felt his big-hearted friend reach over and squeeze his hand. JD squeezed back. He didn't care if they teased him for the rest of his life.

+ + + + + + +

Long nights were nothing new to Nathan. He'd spent more than he could count tending to the needs of others in his relatively short life. He'd spent more than he could count tending to the needs of these men alone. Perhaps this night should have been nothing different to him, but it was. As he moved about from one injured man to the next, he found he could not chase away his fear or his anger. They deserved better. They deserved a few days off with no worries. These fine, brave men he rode with should not be left here in the dirt, fighting off the pain of injuries they didn't deserve. They'd worked hard and risked their lives for others, and what did they get for their trouble? Nature, of all things, slapped them in the face. They deserved better.

Nathan slipped among his friends, offering comfort and water. The men's soft whispers sometimes turned to groans, but each carried their burdens as stoically as possible, knowing Jackson had more than even his considerably large hands could handle. The night did pass, as it always does, and the men lived to see another sunrise, strengthened by the mere presence of each other.

Minus one.

Chris had trouble focusing and keeping a straight thought in his head, but he knew enough to realize that he missed Vin. In fact, a vague, nagging worry continued to float just out of his reach. He had hoped by morning, he would regain enough of his senses to figure out just what the devil was plaguing him. In the meantime, all he could do was pray his friend was safe, wherever he was, and that he would return soon.

Josiah cursed his bad leg for the hundredth time. He hated feeling so helpless. He hated even more the thought of Vin out there alone in who knows what condition or state of mind. He hadn't paid much attention to Tanner before he left, but if Ezra noticed, he must be pretty banged up. He could imagine the sensitive tracker carrying his guilt on that long walk to town, too. Josiah offered up words of encouragement in the early dawn, and prayed that somehow, Vin heard them.

Ezra couldn't help the way his mind worked. He just always seemed to measure events by the rules of chance. Who would have thought a tornado, a relatively rare occurrence in this part of the country, would have swept out of the sky at precisely the right moment to damage him and his counterparts? What were the odds? And the odds, that of all of them, the only one with any real medical experience would be spared? With a sigh that ached all the way through his chest to his spine, he thought of the odds that disturbed him most of all – what hope did Vin really have of making it to town? He, apparently, was the only one who had gotten a good look at the man. If Tanner was their only hope, they were in deep trouble, indeed.

Buck decided the only way he might live through this nightmare was to do as Nathan said, and not move a muscle. Even talking jarred his splitting head. So he let JD speak up whenever he had the urge, and responded with a "yeah" or "no" whenever it seemed to fit. But his mind kept wandering off to Vin. It wasn't like Tanner to miss a "small" detail like a tornado looming. Of course, he should have realized it himself, he had experienced one in the past, and he didn't think he'd ever forget it. Guess he'd just gotten lazy. Let Chris or Vin make the decisions, take the responsibility – he never was one for taking charge anyhow. His mind snapped back to the present as he realized JD had asked him a question.

"What was that, JD?"

"I said, do you think Vin is okay?"

Buck thought a minute. He had no idea – absolutely none at all. "You know Vin, he's tough as they come. I'm sure he's fine."

"Are you mad at him, Buck?" JD asked, as if waiting to take his cue from his friend about his own feelings.

But Buck threw it right back at him. "Are you, JD?"

"I don't know. Guess I'm kind of disappointed. When I was thinking you might die, though, I was . . . yeah, I was mad. Didn't exactly know if it was right to be mad at Vin, but I was."

"Yeah, well, I guess its natural to want to blame someone when things go wrong. Don't hardly think we can pin this all on Vin, though. Besides, when he comes charging back with half the town to help us, he'll be your hero again. Don't worry, Kid. Vin may have disappointed you once, but he won't again. He'll get us home."

JD wished he could be as sure. He had never doubted Vin in the past, but he wasn't so sure anymore. Heroes were getting harder to come by.

+ + + + + + +

A shaft of sunlight poked its way through the rocky crevice and settled on the still figure resting on the hard ground. Vin felt the light creep into his closed eyes as it stirred his murky brain, calling him to awaken. His first awareness was of the rock-hard surface on which he lay. Not unusual for a man like him who had spent as many nights lying on the earth as on a soft bed, but this time was different, and he searched the recesses of his brain in an agitated, unfocused way to remember why. Unsure if he was awake or dreaming, he saw again the furious storm as it raced toward him and his friends. He prayed fervently that it was just a dream, yet deep inside he knew it wasn't, and it was that realization that startled him to full awareness. Oh God! He'd left them there. They were all waiting on him. How far had he gone? More importantly, how far did he have to go?

With a deep groan, he lifted himself up in an attempt to get on his feet. Lord, he hurt. He found himself unable to straighten up and he listed to the right side, his entire left side aching and on fire. At least half of him was working right, though - good enough to get him where he needed to be. Leaning on a large boulder, he looked out onto the horizon for a sign of familiar landmarks. Shaking off the cobwebs that had overtaken his brain, he focused all of his energy on marking the visual clues around him. Trees still stood here, the twister had obviously not made its deadly path this way. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it had missed the town as well.

Vin swallowed a mouthful of clear water, grateful that he had thought to grab the canteen from Peso before setting him loose. He knew this place. Yes, he was close to the road that led to Nettie Wells' place. Just over the hill, in fact. Her homestead was only a few miles down that road. Four Corners was another six or seven miles beyond the turn off. The tracker chewed on that a moment. He could make Nettie's in half the time, borrow a horse, and make up for lost time. But if by chance, she weren't there, he'd be going miles out of his way.

A sharp pain in his leg pulled him away from his thoughts. Glancing down, he noticed for the first time that his left pant leg was still wet. He'd been so covered in mud, and wet from the rain, that he hadn't given it a thought. But the rest of him was dry now. Lowering himself gingerly to the ground, he finally decided to look at the limb that had been causing him so much grief. Using his knife to cut away the leg of his pants, he gasped when he saw the purple-black bruising that surrounded his knee and extended up his thigh. He wished he hadn't looked, it would hurt even worse now that he knew. But the real problem was the deep gash just above his knee that continued to seep blood. Well hell, it was no wonder he'd passed out last night. Vin cursed his own stupidity. There were some injuries you couldn't ignore, anything bleeding being at the top of the list. He'd already given his shirt to Nathan, so he'd have to cut away more of his filthy pants to make a bandage. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse.

After taking care of his leg the best he could, he found his decision had been made for him. Nathan had been right – he'd never make it to town. But he could make it to Nettie's if he had to crawl.

Knowing every journey begins with the first step, he took that step and didn't even attempt to stifle the groan that escaped him. It would be the longest two miles of his life, but he'd get there. He knew he must look a sight. He wore his buckskin coat over his bare chest – he'd been careful to avoid looking at the bruises he knew were there, also. He still kept his shabbily splinted arm pressed against his side. His pants were now pretty much shredded. He had a hunch his face didn't look too good, either. Nettie would have his hide. She'd probably try to stop him from riding into town, and he occupied his mind with the arguments he'd use to get her to see reason. She was a stubborn old bird, and his heart warmed at the thought of her.

It seemed to take hours to reach the road that led to her, and he determined he might very well be crawling at the end. But his heart lurched when he saw a downed tree along the way. By the time he'd seen a dozen more, he propelled himself forward in almost raw panic. He could feel blood running freely down his leg now, as his heart pumped in time with his faltering steps. The twister had come this way. The proof surrounded him, but still he believed Nettie's home had escaped its wrath. She had to be fine. She had to be there. He needed her. He had never needed anyone so badly in all his life. His six friends depended on him and he, in turn, depended on her.

As he topped the hill that overlooked the Wells' land, he thought his heart would stop. Nettie's small home had been reduced to pile of rubble. He stood frozen for long moments, unable to catch his breath, unable to move. And then suddenly he was there, calling out for her, searching through the fallen timbers and splintered lumber for a sign of life – or death. Finding neither, he struggled back to the small stable where Nettie's and Casey's mares were kept. The small structure still stood, seemingly untouched by the storm, but both horses were gone. Maybe they had made it out then. Maybe they'd gone back to town, though one or both could still be hurt. He thought again of his friends. They were all hurt. They were all waiting.

He'd made the wrong decision again. When had his instincts ever been so off? It seemed that his good sense and keen intuition had deserted him. His strength did the same, and he slid ungracefully to the ground outside the small barn. He laid his head on his good arm, oblivious to the tears that streamed from his weary eyes. He would rest for just a minute, and then start out again. But it would take him another full day to reach town, and another after that to get back to his friends. By then, one or more could be dead. He closed his eyes, and the image of Chris Larabee lying unmoving in the grass etched itself into his mind. He would keep that image of his best friend, for that is what would give him the strength to get up again. And that is what would remind of him forever that he was not the man he thought himself to be.

Part Three

The seven magnificent horses had a meeting of the minds. Or so it would appear. Following the mighty storm, they broke off into groups, partnering up much the same as their human counterparts would. The more adventurous of the four – that is the animals belonging to Chris, Vin, Buck and JD, galloped off towards town, driven by instinct, fear, or fate. Josiah's steed led the way for the other two, back to the vicinity where the men had left them.

As the four ambled their way into town, they took no notice of the commotion they caused. Concern that the seven might have been caught in the storm, turned to fear at the sight of the lonely horses.

The people of Four Corners had seen the terrible black funnel as it skipped along the horizon, and they were grateful to have escaped its destructive powers. However, they realized that some of their neighbors might not have been so fortunate. Nettie Wells had been one. She and Casey had taken cover in a low-lying ditch, and were miraculously unhurt, but their cabin was destroyed. They'd taken shelter at Mary Travis's home, until the seven returned. Nettie knew that they would help her rebuild – knew that Vin would do it by himself if he had to.

She and Mary had off-handedly discussed the possibility that the men could have been surprised by the storm, but both had quickly dismissed the thought. Between Vin's oneness with nature, and Chris's level head, they had surely found shelter in time. They may have missed the storm all together, since no one knew exactly where they'd gone. Both being practical women, they'd shoved their concerns aside, and thought the best.

Until the four horses sauntered in.

Several men, led by Judge Travis, quickly assessed the stray animals, and determined that, though they were a little worse for the wear, their condition was good. It was disturbingly obvious, however, that the animals had weathered the storm, which meant the men they belonged to had done the same – and apparently not as successfully.

Within the hour, a search party was organized and on its way. Mary, Nettie, and Casey were left to wonder and worry. Times like these, the three strong women hated the fact they were females. They longed to join the men on their search, and in fact, they'd practically had to hold Casey back. But the fact was that, the men could return to town hurt – or any of the homesteaders could come into town hurt – and they would be needed. They locked arms as they watched the group ride off, linked in their apprehension and their affection for the missing peacekeepers.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan had to get away. For just ten minutes, he had to get away. He said he was looking for food – fruit or maybe the remains of some unfortunate animal – but really he just wanted to be somewhere else. He just wanted to forget for a few moments the brutal reality of the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. Climbing the sloping hill that lay south of the creek, he stopped at the top to get his bearings. He noted a crop of trees several hundred yards away, and realized the storm had not touched there . . . half a mile from where his friends lay. A damn half a mile was all that had separated them from disaster and safety. He rubbed his heavy eyes, and looked a bit closer. Something moved among the trees - several things. Horses?

He was running then, down the hill and across the glen, his heart leaping with the first rays of hope. Please, God, let one of them be his. Not for his selfish affection for the animal, although there was that, too – but for the supplies his gelding held in its saddle bag. Nathan had kicked himself all night for not taking the bag with him when they went to the ground. It would have only taken a few extra minutes to untie it and take it with him, but in the urgency of the moment, he hadn't thought of it.

He knew within minutes that his prayer had been answered. He saw not only his mount, but Josiah's and Ezra's, as well. The animals milled around him skittishly, but relaxed at the sound of his gentle voice. After briefly checking for any severe wounds, he breathed a sigh of relief and climbed up into the saddle. He couldn't help the broad grin that split his handsome face, as he grabbed the reins of the other two horses and headed back to his friends. Things were definitely looking up.

The five men lay dozing fitfully as the mid-day sun shone unmercifully upon them. With no shade or shelter, the heat was stifling, and only added to their misery. But all looked up in sweet surprise when they saw Nathan approaching with the three horses. For the first time in twenty-four hours, smiles abounded all around the semi-circle of friends.

"Look what I found!" Nathan exclaimed gleefully.

"Any sign of the others?" JD asked hopefully. He didn't want to say it, but he was really worried about what had happened to his own horse.

"No, ‘fraid not, JD. But at least we got these three, and we got my medical supplies back."

The injured men looked at each other, trying to decide if that was a good thing or not. It meant Nathan would be poking and prodding and fixing them all. At least with Ezra's steed in tow, they knew they'd have some whiskey to make it all go down a bit easier.

Nathan dropped his bag to the ground, and stooped down to go through his things, rubbing his hands together as he did so.

"Brother Nathan looks right excited by his find," Josiah observed skeptically.

"Yes, he does appear a bit . . . animated," Ezra added.

"Which one of us you reckon he's gonna get to first?" Buck asked.

"Not me. I'm doing fine now," JD offered.

Nathan looked up at him with a frown, before speaking. "Actually, you need to be first, JD. Need to get that wound cleaned out and stitched up. You'll be next, Buck."

"Don't mean to be telling you your business, Nathan, but I'd appreciate it if you could rub some of that smelly ointment you carry around on my back first, so I can get up and get going," Chris said.

Nathan looked at their leader and stated firmly, "Yer not goin' anywhere."

"Fine. Then I'll go without your help." Now that he had a means to travel, nothing would stop him from finding help for his men, not to mention finding their missing tracker. He leaned to his side and tried to get up on hands and knees, thinking that position would cause less strain on his back. His head spun wildly, and he nearly screamed in agony as his injured back muscles tightened. Falling back to the ground heavily, he moaned in despair. Nathan was right. He wasn't going anywhere.

Jackson merely huffed as he made his way over to JD. It took several hours to get to them all, but he felt the weight lift from his soul when he was done. All had been sewed up, wrapped up, and medicated with laudanum or whiskey or both. By the time he'd finished, it was late afternoon, and he found that he was suddenly, ravenously hungry. Searching the saddle bags, he found enough dried beef and some old biscuits to make at least a meager meal for the gang. They'd be spending another night in the open, but now they had blankets and bedrolls to share, and come morning, new hope for rescue.

As Nathan once again built a fire, he listened to the others discuss their options. Each reasoned they were the best choice to ride into town – sure their partners had been injured more severely.

Nathan shook his head, then calmly explained the cold, hard facts.

"Josiah, there ain't no way you can sit a horse with that leg and you know it. We're gonna have to take you back same as Chris – on a travois or in a wagon. Ezra, you try riding a horse right now and yer likely to push one of them broken ribs right through yer lung. Buck, you can't even sit up without throwing up. And JD's lost too much blood. He'd make it about a mile before he fell off the damn horse."

"Well then, what do you suggest, Mr. Jackson?" Ezra asked.

Actually, Nathan hadn't thought of the answer yet himself. He was the only one who could physically manage the ride to town, but he didn't want to leave his injured friends alone.

"Ain't sure yet, Ezra," he answered. "Maybe Vin will be here by morning."

What should have been a hopeful statement was met with a resounding silence.

Chris understood that the men harbored different feelings about the situation. He'd heard Josiah and Ezra talking, and knew they were concerned for Vin's physical wellbeing. He worried greatly for his friend, as well. If Tanner were healthy, he'd have walked all night and rode all day – and he'd be here by now. He'd heard JD express his doubts and his disappointment. Buck had offered a half-hearted attempt to defend Vin, more to ease the kid's mind than anything else. And Nathan had been strangely silent about the whole affair.

Chris had asked himself if he was disappointed in Vin. He had lain flat on his back for a day and a half and thought of little else. The nagging worry that had pricked at his subconscious had finally come to the forefront. He envisioned his best friend's face before the winds hit, remembering the look of utter desolation and remorse reflected there. And he'd done nothing – said nothing.

No, the disappointment lay squarely with his own self. What if he had died? How could he go to his grave knowing he'd let his friend take responsibility for something he had absolutely no control over? Or worse yet, what if Vin had died carrying that unnecessary burden. What if Vin died yet? He caught his breath at that last thought and cursed his injured body. If he were ten years younger, there was no way he'd let this keep him down. He felt the energy leaving his body again, and wondered vaguely if Nathan had given him an extra measure of laudanum just to keep him from even trying to go after Tanner. Closing his eyes with a weary sigh, he saw again the terrible fear on Vin's face. He wondered sadly if that was to be the last vision he would ever have of his friend.

+ + + + + + +

The cool air of the early evening caressed the slack features of the burdened tracker, gently teasing him awake. Vin stirred, and tried to curl into himself as he felt chills race through his aching body. A sharp pain in his leg stopped him from further movement, however, and caused him to awaken with a deep groan. Sitting up abruptly, he nearly toppled back over before catching himself by lowering his right hand to the ground. Oh God, what had he done now?

It took only moments for his vision to clear and the stark reality of the situation to slam into him. He'd passed out again. He'd let them down – again. He remembered the look Chris had given him just before chaos erupted. Larabee had depended on him, and he'd failed. Even if they all survived this nightmarish "time off", he would never forget the disappointment that had shown clearly in his friend's eyes. And now he'd done it again. He'd been stupid and weak, and he'd let them down.

Gathering his wits, and the little strength he still possessed, he struggled to stand. His left leg, having finally suffered enough abuse, gave out on him and the injured man once again crashed to the ground. Landing with unfortunate accuracy on his damaged left side, he cried out in pain and frustration. Vin lay for a moment, wondering how his life had gotten so out of control, before taking a deep breath and looking at the situation again.

All right, so he wasn't as smart as Chris and Ezra and JD, and he wasn't at strong as Josiah and Nathan and Buck. But he was resourceful, and he didn't give up. He didn't waste time feeling sorry for himself, either. Managing with some difficulty to scoot himself over to the remains of Nettie's house, he searched for the perfect piece of lumber. He'd fashion himself a crutch. "Should've done that in the beginning," he mumbled. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that, couldn't believe how scrambled his brains were. Of course, Nathan hadn't thought of it, either. That gave him some comfort. Then again, the healer was pretty angry with him. Still, Nathan would never want him to hurt, would never make things harder for him.

As he raised himself up on the crudely fashioned crutch, he realized he'd have to use his bad arm. Hell, nothing was easy. But he managed a few steps, and few more after that. It would be dark soon, and he was already cold, but maybe the exertion would warm him up. The moon would be bright enough again to light his way, and if he walked all night, he'd be in town by morning. His friends would have to spend another night on the ground, though, and he had to hold back the bile that threatened to come up at that thought. He'd make it this time. He had to. He just prayed they'd hang on until he got there.

+ + + + + + +

The sun had just come up the next morning when Nathan made his decision. Ezra and JD were moving about a bit more, so he would ride like the wind back to Four Corners. A new energy filled the air as the men watched the dark-skinned man ride off. Finally they were doing something. This would all be over soon, and they agreed it would be a long while before they attempted another get-away.

Their good spirits were tempered with concern, however. Where was Vin? With each passing hour, the possibility that the sharpshooter lay injured somewhere along the way became more likely.

Nathan had thought about taking a spare horse, just in case he came upon Tanner. He could move more quickly alone, however, and he really wanted to believe that the man had made it to town. In fact, he hoped to meet the rescuers along the way. For that reason, he stuck close to the main trail.

As much he hoped for that scenario, he was still surprised when it actually happened. He had just topped a crest when he spotted a half dozen men riding towards him. As they approached, he noticed Judge Travis leading the way.

The judge greeted the dark-skinned man with a smile and a warm handshake.

"Sure am glad to see you, Nathan. Where are the rest of the boys?"

Nathan looked perplexed as he answered, "They ain't up for riding just yet, Judge."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Good thing we brought the wagon then."

Nathan was puzzled Vin hadn't told them to bring two. "Guess we can get ‘em all in the one. It'll be tight, though."

"None of them able to ride then?" Judge Travis asked.

"No. Didn't Vin tell you?"

"Vin? We haven't seen him. Isn't he with you?"

Nathan's heart sank. So he hadn't made it. He was hurt worse than he had thought – than he had hoped. But where was he? He sighed deeply as he explained to the Judge, "Vin went for help two days ago. I was hopin' that was why you came lookin' for us."

"I'm sorry, Nathan. We came because four of your horses wandered into town."

"I gotta go find him," Jackson said distractedly, as he turned his steed around.

Travis grabbed his arm and said sympathetically, "Nathan, right now you need to lead us to the others. Later, we'll look for Vin."

Nathan nodded absently. Why hadn't he stopped Tanner? Why hadn't he checked him closer? He dreaded telling Chris the news, but the sooner they got to the others, the sooner he could search for Vin.

+ + + + + + +

Chris saw them coming. He ignored the burning sensation that traveled between his shoulder blades all the way down his legs as he propped himself up on one elbow. Squinting into the mid-day sun, he tried to make out the faces of the approaching men. Judge Travis and Nathan were easy to spot – almost as easy to see as the glaring absence of a certain slouch hat.

Nathan dismounted and immediately came to stand before Chris. The healer's face said it all, but he put the truth into words anyway. "No sign of him, Chris."

"Nathan, get me the hell on that horse," Larabee demanded.

"We been over this. You ain't in no condition t' ride."

"Is it gonna kill me?" the gunman asked honestly.

Nathan hesitated and looked away as he answered, "I reckon not, but it'll hurt like hell. Yer bruised head t' toe, and you banged yer head up good, too. And besides – you'll just slow me down."

"You're planning to go after him?" Chris asked, surprised that Jackson would even consider leaving the care of the others in someone else's hands.

Nathan turned to look the blond squarely in the eye. "Yeah. I am."

Chris heard the emotion behind the affirmation, and he wondered at the reasons behind it. But for now, he merely responded, "Well, so am I."

In spite of the presence of a dozen men, quiet pervaded as all listened discreetly to the men's conversation. At Chris's calm declaration, the stillness was broken. The rescuers set about the task of moving the ailing men into the wagon for the journey back to town.

Buck was moved first, as he needed to lay down flat. The rogue continued to suffer excruciating headaches and nausea, as well as blurred vision. He knew the ride back would be more than miserable - his aching head howling with every stone and pothole they traveled over. But he also knew plenty of tender, loving care lay at the end of the journey, and he smiled in anticipation.

They loaded Josiah next, mindful of the splinted limb. The preacher bit back a groan as he stretched out next to Buck. He'd broken bones before, but this was a bad one, and he knew it would be long weeks before he'd be up walking. He offered a tentative grin to the man next to him, a shared knowledge that the road ahead would be long and painful.

JD and Ezra both insisted on sitting up in the wagon. There wasn't room for them to lie down, and Ezra especially, felt more comfortable in an upright position. Nathan fussed that JD would break open the stitches in his back, but the kid stuck to his guns. He was sick and tired of lying down and couldn't wait to get back to civilization.

It had taken two men to get the stubborn gunslinger on his horse. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of verbally expressing how terribly it hurt, though. Sitting up straight was impossible, so he draped his upper body across the saddle horn and flat out denied the spinning in his head. He could do this. He had a hunch Vin had endured worse in his efforts to help them.

As Nathan and Chris prepared to ride on ahead of the others, the healer gave a list of instructions to Travis. He knew the men would be in good hands until he returned, but still it was difficult to let go of their care.

"Make sure Buck keeps down," he directed before shooting a look and a comment to Wilmington. "And I don't care how pretty she is – yer doing absolutely nothin' for a good week."

Now matter how bad he felt, Buck could always muster a smile, and he sent a huge one Jackson's way.

"And JD's running a low fever, you'll need to keep an eye on that. Make sure he drinks a lot – and I don't mean beer, JD."

The young man merely rolled his eyes and looked away. What Nathan didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Ezra seems to be all right, I don't think he's got any internal injuries – but you never know, and he ain't likely to say if he gets to havin' problems. You'll need to keep a close eye on him, too – make sure he stays out of any card games that are likely to turn ugly."

"Why Mr. Jackson, I am stunned. Surely you don't believe me to be so foolish as to jeopardize my well-being over a hand of cards?"

With that, all of the men turned to look at the gambler, and Ezra decided he'd best just keep quiet.

"Any advice for me, Nathan?" Josiah questioned.

"Like you would listen to it anyway?" Nathan sighed. He really wasn't happy about this, but he had to be the one to find Vin.

"Go find our lost sheep, Brother. We'll look after each other," Josiah responded softly.

Nathan nodded and turned away before the others noted the moisture in his eyes. Chris rode Josiah's steed, and as the healer reached over to take a hold of the reins, Larabee shot him a glare.

Nathan glared back and stated, "Now don't be fussin' with me, Chris. We're goin' slow and easy and yer takin' my help."

Chris was too miserable to argue. As long as they were moving he didn't care what Nathan said or did. He just needed to find Tanner.

The pair had moved on ahead when JD turned to Buck and asked, "How come they didn't find Vin on the way here? How could they have missed him?"

"Don't know. Maybe he took another way back. You know how Vin is. Might have found a short cut."

"Well, obviously not, since he never showed up." JD was silent for a moment before he spoke out loud the thoughts that had been bothering him. "Maybe he didn't go to town at all. Maybe he feels bad for what happened to all of us."

All three men looked at JD incredulously. Ezra, for once, spoke plainly and pointedly to the youth. "Are you trying to suggest that Mr. Tanner left us here purposely?"

JD stammered, "No . . . maybe . . . I don't know. I just think it's strange that no one saw him along the way. I mean, what could have happened to him?"

Buck was sure now that his head was going to explode. He tried to think of the right thing to say to his young friend, but found he needn't bother – Josiah was doing it for him.

"JD, you've ridden with Vin for over a year now. You know the man. Use your head. Buck's the one who got his brains knocked loose – not you. Think about what you're saying."

Dunne hung his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

This time Buck responded, "Don't say it if you don't mean it, Kid. We may not agree with you, but you got a right to think what you do."

"Thanks, Buck - but I do mean it. I know Vin wouldn't leave us like this – but if he didn't, then it means something happened to him. Guess in a way, I'd rather think he ran out on us than think he's dead."

There was no answer to that – neither of those options being acceptable. The wagon pulled forward with a lurch, causing a chorus of moans and groans. It would indeed be a long, tiresome trip.

Part Four

Chris had an awful lot of respect for Nathan's knowledge, but he was sure the healer was wrong. This ride would kill him. They had damn well better find that scrawny Texan soon. And he had damn well better be alive.

The two men traveled the road to home slowly and deliberately, their eyes peeled for anything unusual that may lead to their friend. Nathan continuously rode off to the surrounding rocky areas where Vin might have gone to rest or take cover, checking every nook and crevice for a sign of the man.

The wagon with their friends had long since passed them by, and it was going at a snail's pace. Nathan realized it would be well into the night before his friends made it home, but at least they would not spend another night on the ground. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for him and Chris. He looked over at the gunslinger. The blond looked terrible, and he hoped he hadn't lied when he said this ride wouldn't kill him.

"Chris, maybe we should hold up for the night," Nathan suggested.

"No."

"We could miss something in the dark," Jackson tried again.

"Something? You mean Vin, don't you? He's not a ‘thing' – we're not looking for a body. Stop talking like he's dead," Chris retorted sharply.

Nathan knew it was pain and fear and frustration talking. Knew, too, that he deserved it. He'd spoken to Vin in much the same way two long days ago. But right now, his concern for the gunman overrode all else. "It's getting dark, and you're tired. We'll start out again at first light."

"We've got another hour of light left and we're not stop . . ." he paused and frowned at the crossroads before them. "Where's this road go?"

"Leads to Nettie Wells' place. Why?"

Of course. Vin would go to Nettie's for help. He could get there quicker and borrow a horse. Except that she wasn't there. Chris had heard Travis telling the others about the destruction of her home. But Vin couldn't have known that.

"Turn here," Larabee ordered.

It didn't take long for Nathan to follow Chris's logic. If Vin had went to Nettie's, it would explain why he hadn't been seen on the main trail. Unfortunately, it still meant he must be lying hurt somewhere.

It took only fifteen minutes to find him. Had he made it another dozen yards, he'd have been seen by the search party. He lay on his stomach, with his face turned away from them, but there was no mistaking the hide coat and long, brown hair.

Chris felt his entire body go numb – the previous pain and weariness gone. He slid off his horse clumsily, unaware of his inadvertent grunts and moans; unaware of Nathan's hands guiding him. Stumbling to where his best friend lay unmoving and silent, he lowered himself to the ground with no thought other than that Vin had to be alive. Turning the tracker over with strength he'd thought long gone, he experienced a myriad of emotions. Hope, for by the warmth of his body, it was apparent his friend still lived, desperation at the condition of his battered face and chest and limbs - and anger.

Turning in a rage to Nathan, who knelt beside him, he asked coldly, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Jackson swallowed and answered softly, "Reckon I wasn't. Reckon neither of us was thinkin' real clear."

Now Chris had a better idea what had been going on in the ex-slave's head - the reason he was so determined to search for Vin rather than leave it in the hands of others. He felt guilty. And from the look of things – from the look of Vin, he should feel guilty.

Nathan moved to the other side of the fallen tracker and laid a hand against his bruised forehead. The heat that radiated from the man was no surprise to the experienced healer. Vin no doubt suffered from the heat of the sun, as well as infection from an unknown source. He swiftly removed the buckskin coat, and stifled a groan at the ugly bruising on the injured man's chest. No surprise there, either, he had been sure Vin had been hiding that. The arm he had splinted was swollen and discolored, and somewhere along the way, the splint had fallen apart. He moved on to Tanner's leg, and immediately spotted the problem. A filthy bandage barely covered the nasty gash that oozed thick, yellow pus. Nathan resisted the urge to cry at Vin's pathetic attempt to care for the wound. Dear God, why hadn't he checked? Why hadn't he insisted the man let him see to him first? Why hadn't he stopped him?

As he built another fire, and faced another long night tending another injured friend, Nathan closed himself off to his own fatigue and despair. Convinced the nightmare would never end, he went through the motions of cleaning wounds and coaxing water and refused to think of anything past this night. Tomorrow he would worry about how he would get the two wounded men to back to town; tomorrow he would worry about how he and Vin would make things right between them; tomorrow he would rest.

Chris had finally given up trying to help and laid his throbbing body on the ground close to Vin. He'd also given up trying to get Tanner to open his eyes and acknowledge their presence. Other than a few sparse whimpers when Nathan had cleaned up his leg and re-splinted his arm, the tracker had remained lost to them.

It was nearly daylight when Chris awoke from his restless dozing to see Nathan sitting cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees. The blond watched as the dark-skinned man lowered his head into his hands and sighed deeply. The healer had worked tirelessly, and obviously unsuccessfully, to bring down Vin's temperature. Exhaustion marked the man, and Chris wondered if he had slept at all over the last few days. He yearned to ease the burden a bit, wished he could say he'd take over for the remainder of the night. But if ever the saying, "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak" applied, it was now. He could hardly move his little finger, let alone take over the care of his much too ill friend.

Looking again at Nathan, he shared in his anguish, and decided right then not to add any more to the gentle man's burden. There was just too much damn guilt floating around. Nathan's guilt for not taking better care of Vin, his own guilt for not talking with Tanner before all hell broke loose, and of course, the terrible, heart-wrenching guilt he'd seen in Vin's eyes.

"This isn't your fault, Nathan," Chris spoke gently. "And I'm sorry for speaking to you the way I did."

"Not my fault? No - not all of it. But . . . but I was so angry with him, Chris. I blamed him for everyone bein' hurt, and it wasn't his fault, either. Worst of all, I didn't want t' believe he was hurt. So I just . . . let him go," Nathan finished regretfully, before finally looking up to meet the gunman's eyes.

Chris never gave much thought to Nathan's age, but he suddenly looked years older. His expressive, brown eyes held such grief and remorse, that Chris wanted to look away. But he'd missed the opportunity to ease Vin's mind and he would not repeat that mistake with Nathan. He held the intense gaze, and prayed for the right words to come to him.

"Can't even imagine what it must have been like for the two of you. Seeing us all injured, and no help in sight. Think I probably would have done just what Vin did. Would have acted like I wasn't hurt at all, ignored my own problems, and went off. Probably wouldn't have let you look at me, no matter how much I was hurting. Sound about right?"

"Like that would have been new or different? Every one of you acts like that from time t' time. Have t' practically sit on you t' get a look at you." Nathan paused, thinking on what Larabee had just pointed out. "I should have tried harder."

"You did all one man could possibly do. And you've still got your chance to save Vin."

Chris looked at Nathan hopefully.

Nathan lowered his gaze to the injured tracker. He remembered Josiah saying that no one expected him to perform miracles, but he wondered if anyone had informed Larabee of that. Tanner had pushed himself for days with untreated wounds, no food, and precious little water or rest. Jackson was physically and mentally exhausted himself, and nowhere near up to the challenge. Yet if there was one thing he and his six brothers had in common, it was the courage and determination to do the right thing in the face of insurmountable odds. Giving up now was no more an option than it had been in that Indian village. He gave Larabee a slight nod, which seemed to satisfy the man, and resumed his efforts to cool down Vin's burning flesh. Maybe he had just one more miracle left in him after all.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan jerked his head back as his horse hit a particularly rough spot in the road. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around him and realized they were close to home. He must have dozed off. Tightening his grip on the man in front of him, he tried to ignore Vin's gasp of pain. It was a good thing he'd taken Chris's advice and tied the Texan onto the horse. He could have lost him. How could he have been so careless?

Glancing over at Chris, he was glad he'd done the same for him. Either Larabee was too exhausted to open his eyes, or he was unconscious. Either way, he was damn close to sliding right off the mount. Nathan chastised himself again for drifting off, he could have lost either of these men and not even realized it. And if one of them fell off, he'd never get him back up – he'd had a hell of a time the first time.

Jackson thought on that whole ordeal, and marveled again at how it had worked out. Tanner had started to stir, mumbling about getting to town. Chris had sat by his side, trying to ease the sick man's agitation, but to no avail. To the surprise of both men, Vin had actually attempted to stand, so determined was he to find help for the others. Nathan acted quickly, and supported the weakened tracker, or more accurately, dragged him over to the waiting steed. Almost instinctively, Vin tried to raise himself into the saddle, crying out in pain from the movement of his injured leg. Nathan pushed and coaxed and goaded until the sharpshooter lay slumped over the neck of the big animal. In spite of Vin's feeble efforts, Jackson was left breathless and sweating, but the goal was accomplished – Tanner was in the saddle. Now if only he could keep him there while he helped Chris. He hated tying him to the horse, knowing how Vin felt about being confined, but he had no choice. At least not until he was up in the saddle with him.

Getting Chris up had been almost as bad, and left both men shaking with fatigue. Larabee, not trusting his body to hold on even a few more hours, told Nathan to tie him on, as well.

A few more hours . . . the seven miles to home might as well have been seventy to the healer. His eyes burned as he struggled to keep them open. Vin groaned, and Chris groaned back, and Nathan nearly giggled in hysteria at the thought that, even lost in their wounded minds, the two men knew how to communicate with each other. He'd get them home, one way or another. He just needed to stay awake a little while longer, and he could do that. These men were worth the effort, and Lord knows, they had all suffered more than he had. His six friends' faces were fresh in his mind when, in spite of his good intentions, he nodded off again.

By the time the trio reached Four Corners, none of the men were aware enough to celebrate their return. Gentle hands guided and carried weary bodies to soft beds. Nathan never registered the fact that he'd been laid in Ezra's own room, the gambler tenderly tucking his treasured down comforter around him. Chris never saw Mary's worried gaze as the lean gunman was carried up to the clinic, and he never knew that it was she who insisted a second bed be placed in the main room, so that he could be near Vin.

Vin never heard Nettie's firm commands and explicit instructions as he, too, was carried to the second floor sick room. He never knew that the strength of her voice belied the tremors of her heart as she took in the desperate condition of her young friend.

And he never knew he'd made it to town.

+ + + + + + +

Six bodies lay stretched out on the ground before him. Six? Was Nathan hurt now, too? One by one, he moved past their still, bloody figures. Dead. They were all dead. Because he was too late, he'd taken too long. He lowered himself to the ground beside the man who meant more to him than life itself. Chris Larabee's green eyes were wide open and accusing, even in death. Oh God! Why couldn't it have taken him? He fell to the ground, great sobs wracking his body, yet he made no sound at all. Over and over he tried to them how sorry he was, but still no words came out – no sound. It didn't matter anyway. They couldn't hear him. Would never hear him again. He saw the great black cloud appear once more, coming for him, and he prayed that this time it would take him, that he would feel nothing more ever again. And as it swallowed him up, Vin was grateful.

+ + + + + + +

"I think he's coming around," Nathan spoke softly.

Chris looked over from where he lay stretched out on the bed. "Why? Doesn't sound any different to me," he noted dejectedly. For two days, he'd lain, or sat when his back could take it, next to Vin and listened to the delirious rambling of his sick friend. Hearing his anguished pleas for forgiveness was nearly as heartbreaking as his futile promises to "make it to town", to bring back help.

He had not made it to town, had not brought back help, and even though the important thing was that everyone was all right, Chris knew that Vin would feel he'd failed them yet again. As anxious as he was to have Tanner back with them, he dreaded looking into those solemn, blue eyes and relaying to him the facts of their rescue. There was no doubt that Vin had claimed responsibility for the tragic events, and no doubt that he felt a need to make it up to his friends by effecting their rescue. But things hadn't worked out that way, and he'd have to be the one to tell him. He'd have to be the one to try to make him see that it didn't matter anyway. And he didn't know how he'd do that, because the truth was, if he were Vin, it would matter to him.

Nathan was talking to him, some medical stuff about Vin's wound and Vin's temperature and how he knew Vin should be coming out of it anytime now – and all Chris could think was that he should have figured out by now what he was going to say when he did.

Buck came in just then and winced at the bright light that poured through the open window.

"Yer head still botherin' you, Buck?" Nathan asked, concerned.

"Some, but it's a little better every day. And before you ask, I'm bein' good." In reality, Buck had decided the agony from the headache was well worth the sympathy he garnered. And "being good" was a relative term, after all.

"JD's waiting on you, Nathan," he reminded Jackson.

"Yeah, all right. I need to check on Ezra and Josiah, too."

"I'll stay awhile," Buck offered.

Jackson gathered a few supplies and left the men alone. "How's he doin'?" Wilmington asked the gunman.

Chris sat up with a groan, and stiffly made his way over to the wooden chair that sat next to Vin's bed. "Seems the same to me, but Nathan's seems to think he's better."

As if to prove the healer's point, a blinding light pierced the blackness that had taken Vin. The midday sun settled on his pale face, and with a gasp, he opened his eyes – his lids fluttering against the sudden brightness. The first thing he saw was the warm, emerald gaze of his best friend. Not unseeing, not accusing, just relieved, and Vin breathed a sigh of relief himself. At least Chris had survived, and maybe the others had, too.

Chris knew as soon as the tracker set his blue eyes upon him that he was lucid this time. He knew, also, what the first words from his mouth would be.

"Everyone all right?" Vin asked hopefully, licking his dry lips.

"Yeah, we will be," Chris said. As he helped the younger man take a drink, he braced himself for the next question.

His tortured dreams still fresh in his mind, Vin wondered aloud, "Did I make it?"

Soft and earnest and more than a little confused, in that slow, lazy drawl of his that just sucked you right in. Chris searched for the right words, but Buck answered before he had the opportunity to find them.

"You sure did, Vin. We're all here and we're all just fine." Leave it to Buck to smooth things over. Nothing wrong with covering the truth just a bit to make a friend feel better.

Vin turned puzzled eyes to Buck. The last thing he remembered was being at Nettie's. He'd felt so bad, hurt so much – could he have made that long walk without remembering any of it? Turning back to Chris, he looked for the truth in the blond's face.

Chris took a deep breath. He could never lie to Vin. The man would see it in an instant, and besides, he respected him too much – respected their friendship too much. "No, Vin. We found you on the road to Nettie's."

"How'd you all . . . make it back?" he asked breathlessly.

"A couple of the horses made their way back to us. Couple more came to town. Nathan met the search party on the way."

He always knew horses were smart creatures. Smarter than him, apparently. But they were all alive – unless Buck was lying about that, too. "You sure all the boys are all right?" Vin questioned cautiously.

"I'm sure." Chris answered without hesitation. Now was the time to set things right, if only he could find the words. He grimaced as he tried to straighten his back in the hard chair, and immediately noticed the sorrowful expression that flitted across Vin's face.

Buck saw it, too, and determined to make Vin feel better about the whole situation, he reminded him, "Doesn't really matter how we got here, Vin. The important thing is that we're all gonna be fine. And that includes you. You had us real worried for a while there, Pard."

He hadn't even thought of that. Someone had to go search for him, take care of him, worry over him – taking time and effort away from his friends when they needed it more. He'd really messed up all the way around this time. He wished he knew how to set it right, or even better, make it all go away. Mary had said he had a way with words, but they escaped him now. Although, there was really only one thing to say, even if it still wasn't enough.

"I'm so . . . sorry," he faltered, embarrassed by the tears that loomed.

Buck looked over at Chris, obviously hoping the man in black had a clue what to say and how to say it. Larabee had no problem reading Wilmington's expression, urging him to come up with the right words to ease Vin's pain. He wanted nothing more than to do just that – had thought of little else for days now. He just wasn't sure what he could say to change things. Then it occurred to him - when had he ever had to practice what to say to Vin? Talking with him, being with him, had become as natural as breathing - and almost as necessary.

"Vin, you have nothing to be sorry for," Chris explained. "Even you can't predict the weather. You couldn't help being hurt. You couldn't have done any more, or any differently, than you did. We don't blame you, so don't waste your energy blaming yourself." Well, that was to the point anyway, but not exactly how he intended it. Hell, maybe he should have practiced after all.

Vin didn't have to look at his friend to see how hard he was trying. Chris had said exactly what he expected him to, and exactly what he hoped he wouldn't. He'd have preferred condemnation and retribution and a whole lot of those other fancy words Josiah and Ezra threw around. But Chris seemed to think it was up to him to make him feel better, and so he'd play the game. No use in upsetting everyone more.

With a nod, and a mumbled "Thanks," he feigned sleep.

Buck raised an eyebrow at Chris, who returned his bewildered gaze. It couldn't be that easy. They both knew Tanner better than that. But apparently that was all to be said for now. Most importantly, as far as Chris was concerned, was that Vin was going be to all right. They could deal with his feelings later. The gunslinger's bruised spine was killing him, and he returned to rest on the spare bed. He'd never again take for granted a strong, healthy back. He lowered himself with a soft groan that matched Buck's, whose head was pounding furiously now. Neither man saw Vin wince at the sound of his friends' discomfort.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan felt a huge weight lift when he determined that both JD and Ezra appeared to be healing without complications. He still felt badly about leaving them and going to look for Vin. To top it off, he'd slept for almost a day when they had finally gotten back to Four Corners. When he had finally awakened, strangely enough in Ezra's luxurious bed, he'd leapt up in a panic. For a few frantic moments, he couldn't remember which man he'd been tending or where he needed to go first. When he found that the women in town had the situation firmly in hand, he couldn't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed that he wasn't indispensable.

But that changed the moment he entered his clinic and found Chris stubbornly bent over the fevered, thrashing tracker. Both he and Nettie had looked up at him imploringly, and he knew immediately where he was needed most.

That was two long days ago. Long days seemed to be the norm now, and he wondered if things would ever go back to the way they were. Eventually they'd all heal, but he wondered if the easy, comfortable balance they'd enjoyed prior to the storm would return.

He knew he had to start with Vin. He took the clinic stairs two at a time, sensing that he had been right and Tanner was awake. He pushed the door open softly, and noted that his patient quickly closed his eyes. Obviously, Vin didn't want to talk.

Nathan stood for a moment, debating on his next move. Buck had left, and Chris appeared to be asleep. He reached out to briefly brush Vin's forehead, noting the coolness at last that they had worked so hard to achieve.

With a deep sigh, Nathan seated himself and began to talk softly. "I know yer awake, Vin. But its okay if you don't feel up t' talkin' just yet. I need t' let you know, though, that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like I did, and I should have done a better job lookin' after you."

What the devil was going on? First Buck lies to him, then Chris tells him things weren't his fault that clearly were, and now Nathan apologizing when he hadn't done a damn thing wrong. Vin's eyes shot open and he looked at Jackson suspiciously. "Am I dyin' or somethin'?"

"What?" Nathan asked, perplexed.

"Yer all talkin' crazy. Figure maybe I'm worse off than I thought."

"No, Vin. Yer fever finally broke and yer leg's lookin' better. The rest of you looks pretty bad, but no, I don't think yer gonna die."

"Then quit treating me like I'm some sorry, stupid kid. Y'all know I made mistakes, a whole slew of ‘em, in fact, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop beatin' around the bush about it."

Stunned, Nathan took a minute to answer. "I can't change the way you feel, Vin. But I can change the way I feel. I did some wrong things, too, and I feel real bad about it. And I'm telling you I'm sorry for it. Whether or not you accept that is up to you."

Vin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his beating heart. What was wrong with him? Why lash out at Nathan, of all people?

"Course I accept, Nathan. And I'm sorry, too – for all of it."

Jackson reached out his hand to take a hold of the sharpshooter's arm. "Listen to me, Vin. Ain't none of us can change what happened. We've gotta put it behind us now, and move on, y' hear me? Let it go."

On the next bed, Chris listened with bated breath for Vin's answer, and his heart sank when he heard the tracker's whispered reply.

"Ain't sure I can. Ain't sure I can ever let it go."

+ + + + + + +

Josiah decided the Lord really did know what He was doing after all. Thanks to his bum leg, he'd been unable to continue his work refurbishing the old church, and had been forced to resume his spiritual studies, instead. He'd never admit it, but the break felt good, almost worth the discomfort and inconvenience of hobbling about on one leg. Speaking of hobbling, he noted Vin slowly making his way down the street towards the church steps where the preacher had spread out.

It was about time. Josiah knew that one by one, Vin had made his apologies to the other men. It was only a matter of logistics that he was last on the list. Tanner wasn't getting around any better than he was, and undoubtedly put off the long walk to the church. It was just as well – gave him time to think about how he could turn things around for the younger man.

They'd all tried. Buck, always wishing to avoid the ugly in any given situation, had tried to smooth over the facts. Nathan had appealed to their common feelings of guilt. Ezra had tried big words and glossy declarations to talk completely around the subject. JD had basically just shrugged. Sure, Vin had disappointed him, but as long as everyone was okay, it didn't matter much. In the way of youth, it had become yesterday's news.

Chris had hit head-on, taking the practical approach, and had barely concealed his disappointment when it failed miserably. He and Vin didn't always agree, but they'd never had a problem communicating – usually saying in a few words what it took the rest of them paragraphs to get across. The gunman had confided in Josiah that he was deeply unsettled by the chasm that had developed between him and Tanner. And chasm was an apt description. Vin seemed to have separated himself in all ways from the others, as if he no longer deserved to be part of the "family".

Josiah scooted over a bit as Vin approached, leaving room for the tracker to sit next to him. Tanner lowered himself to the wooden stairs without comment, and stretched out his wounded leg next to the preacher's broken one.

"Well, we're quite a pair, aren't we?" Sanchez asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, guess so." Vin hesitated before continuing, "Been wantin' t' speak with you, Josiah."

"Feel free," the older man spoke, turning to view his friend's face.

Vin looked down at his feet, though, as he said, "Been wanting to apologize for all that happened." He nodded at Josiah's splinted limb, "Fer that, especially."

It's not your fault, Vin. Hindsight is better than foresight, Vin. It's over, Vin. A hundred other platitudes and easy phrases went through Josiah's mind. None of them right. None of them what his friend needed to hear.

"By grace alone, Vin."

"What?"

"Grace. Favor. As in the giving of a gift that is unearned."

"Oh . . .kay." Vin stammered. Usually he could follow Josiah, but he had no idea where the preacher was heading with this.

"Bible says . . ."

Vin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't mind hearing Josiah's preaching now and then, but he just wasn't in the mood right now. He needed to get this one last apology done, and then he'd decide whether he was staying or going.

". . . forgiveness is given to us by grace alone. We can't earn it. It's a gift given out of love for us. We just have to believe it – and accept it. Accept God's grace."

"I'm sorry, Josiah – I'm not real sure what yer tryin' t' say." Although it was nice to know that God forgave him, he was more concerned about his earthly relationships right now.

"You can't earn forgiveness, it has to be given freely, from the heart."

"I reckon," the tracker responded skeptically.

Sanchez put an arm around Tanner's shoulder and replied softly, "Accept the gift, Vin. Accept the love, and the forgiveness, of your six brothers."

Vin turned his troubled eyes to Josiah's and whispered, "It ain't that easy."

Josiah smiled knowingly and said, "Ah, but it is. Take the forgiveness we offer, and then you can work on forgiving yourself."

Forgive himself – suddenly he realized that was the hardest part of all. Engrossed in his thoughts, he was startled when the remaining peacekeepers showed up to join the pair at the entrance to the church.

"Thought we'd bring the party to the cripples!" Buck exclaimed as he handed drinks to the two men.

"Party? What are we celebrating?" Josiah asked with a broad grin.

"Hell, what aren't we celebrating? It's a beautiful, spring day and we're all up and around to enjoy it – well, except for you two. And best of all, Nathan's lifted the ban on alcohol," Buck rejoiced.

Nathan merely shook his head and smiled, as if they'd listened to him anyway.

"I will definitely drink to that, my friend," Ezra added.

"Me, too," JD joined in.

Vin noticed that Chris, still moving slower than he liked, had brought up the rear, and he called out to him as he scooted over a bit more. "Looks like you could use a seat, Cowboy."

Chris saw the open invitation in Vin's eyes, and knew that the chasm had been crossed. With a slow smile, he sat next to the tracker. As the conversation carried on around them, the lean gunman turned to his friend. He didn't want to pry, but he sure wondered how Sanchez had worked his magic this time.

"So, just what did Josiah say to you?"

"Aw hell, Chris, you don't really expect me t' explain Josiah, do you?"

"You didn't get it, huh?"

"Not exactly. But I got enough to know one thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm takin' the gift."

Chris shook his head, puzzled, but returned Vin's warm smile. It didn't matter. Vin was on the road back, and he didn't care how he'd got there. He looked up just as JD made a suggestion.

"You know, guys, I've been thinking. During our next time off, maybe we should head to California. I've been reading about it, and there's a lot we could see. It'd be real exciting, don't you think?"

At the groans that surrounded him, JD added quietly, "Or maybe we could just stay here."

Vin joined in with the soft laughter that spread through the group. He still had some pondering to do, some things to work out. But he knew one thing for certain, these men were the best gift he'd ever had, and it would take more than a tornado to tear him away.

END