Every New Dawn by Julie

Part 1

October 23 6:05 pm

Vin Tanner's soft sigh was barely audible, but his saddlesore partner heard it clear enough. It was not so much in words, but in the tracker's silent body language. The three-day trek from Four Corners took them through rough terrain, while delivering a murderer for trial. Chris Larabee glared openly at the young prisoner on the horse behind him. He was a wild kid too eager to make a name for himself.

"That damn half-breed a cripple too?" he sneered, watching the longhaired man in the distance squirm and grip his back. His smile faded when a lightning quick draw brought a pearl-handled revolver into the fading sunlight. "Hey, you can't kill me, I'm unarmed and tied up."

"Kill?" Chris grunted, smiling evilly, "Who said anything about killing you? Could be I was firing at a coyote and your knee got in the way. Either way, you're crippled, so shut your fuckin' mouth!"

The fading roses in the sky that signaled the end of the day shone like a ray of hope to the weary tracker. He lowered the spyglass and arched his back, hissing as a bolt of pain lanced it once again. An escape attempt the day before resulted in a severe blow to his back, aggravating the torment he was already suffering. The journey had been three days of Hell, pure and simple. The prisoner never stopped griping and Chris lost his last shred of patience during that altercation. He was riding on empty and Vin could feel his temper waiting to explode. Eden was just ahead and named most appropriately. The sharpshooter was weary to the bone and in need of a hot bath, some good grub, a full bottle and a soft bed, in that order.

Tom Peters looked away from the steely gaze of the blond gunslinger. He'd heard all the legends about Chris Larabee and after spending three days with him, he had no doubt they were all true. A killer himself for over five years now, since he met up with the Red River Gang, he knew the look all too well. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, every inch of him sore from the harsh trip. Even the bunk in the jail looked good now. At least he wouldn't have Larabee's wrath to contend with. He eyed the buffalo-hide coat returning and shook off a tremble. Larabee's sidekick didn't talk much, but something about the look of those blue eyes and the way he moved was scary enough. He saw the tracker staring at him again and narrowed his gaze, not hiding his contempt. He could smell a half-breed a mile away and this guy reeked of Indian-lover.

"Three hours," Vin pulled up short of Chris, "I'll ride ahead, we're late and the law's likely to be wonderin'..."

"We're fine," Chris answered the concern flickering in the blue eyes. "I'll see you in the saloon, don't be cheap." Chris saw a smirk tugging on the weary man's face as he turned to ride away.

Vin could cut the time short if he pressed hard. That would give him time to rid himself of three days worth of grit, dirt, grime and whatever vermin was making him itch. Peters was going to trial for murder. He didn't think the judge would have any trouble. There were several witnesses who saw the kid gun down a helpless woman and child. They were the innocent victims of Fate's fine hand that morning. Mrs. Abigail Anderson was in the bank, depositing twelve dollars she'd earned from stitchery. Joshua was only four and anxious to get outside, he didn't like the bank. So when the thieves burst in, he'd become frightened and started to cry. That set off the blond, blue-eyed bandit who'd been guarding the door. The boy's wails drew the attention of passersby, who in turn alerted the law. Peters grabbed the boy and his distraught mother followed. Between the kid screaming and the mother's hysterical cries, Peters lost it and killed them both. The gang got away but the law notified all the surrounding towns. The Seven split up, each taking a section of the county. Chris and Vin tracked him down near Copper Hill, a small mining community. Chris wired Four Corners to alert J.D. and Eden as well to alert them. That was three days ago. Vin dismounted outside the sheriff's office and grimaced as both his headache and backache protested in unison.

"You Graves?" Vin asked, taking his hat off and swiping the sweat from his dirty face.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm with Larabee," Vin offered, not willing to give his name, the fear of his own bounty hovering close. "We wired ya 'bout Peters...he's behind me 'bout a half hour. Bathhouse?"

"Down the street, ten cents including soap and a clean towel. Thanks for bringing him in, this is one I'll enjoy watch dancin' on the end of a rope."

Vin didn't take the hand offered, nor did he like the reptilian smile on the lawman's face. He merely nodded and backed up, seeking refuge in the guise of steaming water.

+ + + + + + +

Chris could feel his temper rising as the desire to exterminate Peters from this life scorched his very being. They were approaching the town and the kid continued to assault him with taunts.

"Bet them injuns taught your friend how to carve up a body real good. Too bad I didn't have more time with that little fella. Now, don't get me wrong, I ain't one of them freaks what like to do it with men but I had me a little injun once and he was so..."

The horrific narrative was cut short as an iron vise grabbed Peter's throat. Seconds later he felt the sharp tip of a blade pierce the fabric of his pants and a trickle of wetness at his groin as the knife penetrated the tender flesh.

"I don't think the fine citizens of this town care if you hang with or without your balls. Far as I'm concerned, a man like you don't have any." The blond's menacing threat was accented by deadly intent.

Eyes bulging in fear, the doomed man looked into a face that promised the threat was not an empty one. Chris's gaze burned with an intensity that transformed the green eyes into twin beacons of emerald fire.

The gunslinger fought to control his thirst to inflict agony on the filthy piece of humanity before him. His knuckles whitened with the effort to halt his urge to carve the loathsome flesh. Peters rocked back in the saddle as Chris released him with a muttered curse

"You were saying?" Chris let his eyes and the knife punctuate his question.

The captive swallowed nervously and knew that the man would carry out the threat without a qualm. The rest of the journey was completed in blessed silence and soon the duo pulled up in front of the jail.

"You must be Larabee." Graves felt a tremor of fear at the menacing sight of the man in black. This was a man that you just didn't cross if you wanted to see the sun rise in the morning.

Chris paused and scanned the figure before him. The corpulent body and the ruddy face with its small beady eyes did not instill an impression of capability. Sparing a brief nod to the man, the blond reached over and flung his charge to the ground. He watched in satisfaction as Peters landed on the dusty street with a bone-jarring thud

"This piece of garbage is Peters, he's your problem now." Uninclined to spend any more time in the company of the two men, Larabee turned his horse in the direction of the saloon

+ + + + + + +

Vin experienced a brief surge of relief as the batwing doors opened and his best friend strolled into the saloon and up to the bar. Conversation ceased and silence reigned as the patrons stared at the newcomer. An aura of danger seemed to emanate from the black garbed stranger. Ignoring the stares, Larabee ordered a whiskey and quickly consumed it. His hand snaked out and grabbed the bottle as the bartender started to move away. Casually flipping a coin on the counter, Chris turned and directed his infamous glare at the occupants before moving towards the table in the corner where Vin was sitting.

"Nice entrance," Vin grinned laconically as Chris gracefully folded his frame into a chair. The blond noted, without surprise, that the tracker selected a table which offered a clear view of the entire room. His hat nearly covered his face, an attempt to disguise his identity from any would-be bounty hunters. He marveled at Vin's relaxed stance. He was certain that being in a town that was hungry for a hanging had to have the Texan edgy.

"Got a bath with salts from the Chinaman who runs the place," Vin answered the intense gaze that swept across his back,"...helped some. I sent word home t'Mary. Might be a good idea if we head out tonight..." Vin sipped his whiskey carefully, watching Chris's fingers flexing. The blond's face was pinched with rage and the tracker knew he was in a lot of pain. Seeing the mother and child murdered had stoked the fires of injustice inside the gunslinger. He had a hot itch inside, the dangerous kind that only pounding flesh would quell. Vin didn't like the looks the strangers were giving them. He liked the sleazy sheriff even less. So as much as he longed for a bed to rest his aching back, he couldn't leave Chris, not in this hostile atmosphere. He shifted and wasn't able to mask the grimace of pain as the fire stabbed his back again. On top of the injury, he was worried about the crimson tinged urine he'd been producing.

"The only thing I aim to do tonight is empty this bottle." Chris replied as he downed the contents of another shot glass.

The gunslinger's face conveyed not only the exhaustion he felt, but also the deeper anguish of once again fighting the demons that plagued him. The horrific thought of the mother and child slain during the robbery conjured up images of Sarah and Adam. The reflection of what they suffered tore at his soul and posed a threat to his sanity. Tonight he would allow his mind to be numbed by liquor. When dawn eased its way over the horizon he would once again focus on the living. .

The sharpshooter peered into his friend's face and recognized the grief. He'd seen it many times before and knew this particular foe would be one he could never vanquish.

Chris tossed back another shot of whiskey, which only fueled his anger. He let his eyes slide around the room, sizing up the nosey patrons. He heard the hiss emerge from his partner, the same time the Texan's features screwed up. Vin never talked about his back, Nate said it traced back to an infirmity when he was a kid. He warned the others about this adding to Vin's testy mood when he rode too long. The stifling heat of the smoke-filled saloon and the weariness in his lean frame only added to his misery. The damn drunks and gamblers were whispering and staring behind crooked teeth. To hell with them...he tossed another shot back and saw the dead child's eyes rise up before him. The line of liquor in the bottle disappeared, as did the hours of the night. Beside him, Vin shifted and hissed again.

"Jesus Vin," he snorted, "I've seen men of ninety more limber."

Vin eyed his companion and the quickly disappearing liquid in the whiskey bottle. He signaled the barkeep for a mug of ale. He spent the next half-hour nursing the watered-down brew and felt Chris's rage coming to a head. He knew Chris wanted to vent and unfortunately, he was the only likely target for the sharp barbs.

Chris knew what Vin was doing and that only added fuel to his fire. Who the hell did Tanner think he was? He finished the bottle and his headache got worse. The faces were leering at him and the scene in the street unfolded again...with Sara and Adam lying dead. Vin's beer sat half full and the fact that the lanky tracker was shifting again in the chair that should be vacant, bothered him.

"I don't need no fuckin' babysitter," Chris snarled, sending the beer across the table and onto the floor.

Vin followed the rolling mug until it came to rest against a leg across from them. He saw the two cardplayers halt their game and smile, tossing their cards down. Vin narrowed his gaze and sent the repellent gambler a silent warning.

"Ya lose somethin' Pretty Boy?" the cardplayer asked, caressing the mug that hit his leg. He gripped it in tobacco-stained fingers and stood, leering openly and waiting for a reply.

Vin's usual catlike reflexes were hampered by his injured back. As he struggled to rise, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending rippling waves of pain through him. He was firmly planted in the chair again.

"I'm gonna be usin' them them balls of yours for dice if you don't move that ugly face from in front of me," Chris growled, hands tingling over his colts.

"Aw, hell..." Vin muttered, seeing a disaster ready to unfold. He shook off the pain and stood, putting himself between the quartet that now joined the drunk and Chris. "No harm done," Vin offered, before the black sleeve sent him hard onto the chair once more. As Chris went to move by him, ready to pounce on the baiting group, Vin's fist flew out, cuffing him. It stunned the blond long enough for the struggling sharpshooter to drag him to the door.

"You're making the wrong kinds of enemies," Chris slurred, shoving Vin hard, "Hell, you're the one with the price on your head..."

Vin saw the combination of liquor and the punch take it's toll and caught Chris as his legs buckled. By some miracle, he managed to get them into the hotel. Fortunately, their rooms were on the ground floor. By the time he dumped Chris on the bed, he was too weary and wary to leave. He took his coat off and curled up across the room, using it as a crude pillow. Home couldn't come soon enough, the fire in his back reminded him. He drifted off into an uneasy rest, unaware that the unsavory bar patrons understood Chris's reference all to well and danger lurked on the horizon.

Part 2

October 24 5:30 am

Dawn was spreading her glorious golden cape when Chris emerged from the hotel. Squinting against the hint of daylight, he paused to massage his screaming temples in an ineffectual attempt to ease the headache that thrummed through his skull. The orange ball in the sky would prove to be his worst enemy. He already felt the unquenchable thirst building and the headache threatening to explode.

"Goddamn jackass Larabee. You just don't know when to quit." He muttered to himself. Crossing the street to the Livery, he could make out the form of a horse and the figure of Vin Tanner.

"Horses are set, ya sure yer up t'this?" Vin's voice was clipped, matching his mood. He'd gotten little sleep and been thrown up on to boot. By the look on his face, Chris had no memory of the long night he'd put his best friend through.

"Are you?" Chris brushed past him, scowling in contempt, his eyes sweeping over the smaller man, whose pinched features bespoke pain and fatigue. The night before was a throbbing blank spot. He'd woken up alone, reeking of liquor, tobacco and vomit.

Vin felt his temper flare. The persistent ache in his back had abated somewhat, but the scarcity of sleep made his eyes feel like they were fireballs. Despite the lure of the bed that he'd not gotten a chance to sleep in, making tracks was vital. A wanted man could ill afford a surfeit of sleep or alcohol.

"Nobody put a gun t'yer head and asked ya t'drink all night did they?"

Startled by the vinegar of Vin's statement, the gunslinger paused in his attempt to tighten his cinch and turned to glare at his friend. "That your back talking for you?" he spat.

"It's fine," the Texan shot off, mounting Peso and heading out of town.

"Goddammit!" Suppressing a moan from the pulsing agony that resided in his head, the man in black quickly mounted and followed his friend at a leisurely pace. Neither of the headstrong pair was aware of the dark cloud that Fate cast on the road ahead.

+ + + + + + +

The two short-tempered peacekeepers rode in silence. That was nothing unusual, but on this day the stifling hush was marred with a growing, palpable rift. Since leaving Eden, neither man attempted to bridge the gulf that existed.

Finally, Chris's pounding head and sour stomach won out. He pulled Pony to a stop after they crossed a small stream. The hospitable sight of the shade provided by a cottonwood tree was too much to forgo. He managed to get behind the tree and toss up the biscuits and eggs he'd eaten earlier. He moved over, sat up and leaned back against the trunk, uncorking his canteen.

The tracker glanced back and was clearly annoyed to see his friend hunkered down in the shade taking a long swallow of water. He saw the question lingering in Vin's eyes and supplied a short answer.

"Horses need a rest."

Peso was accustomed to long hauls over rough terrain with little rest but Pony was clearly showing evidence of fatigue. Dismounting, Vin grumbled "Iffen ya got yerself a decent horse, we wouldna have t'make so many stops."

"There's nothing wrong with my horse. In fact the only problem I see is that you seem to have lost your sense of direction. When were you gonna tell me we were taking a different trail back to Four Corners?"

The sharpshooter ignored the question as he dismounted and moved to squat near the edge of the stream. A small twinge of guilt flared briefly in his consciousness. The others always trusted his uncanny sense of direction and tracking skills to get them home. Most likely Chris knew from the very start that he opted to take an alternate route home, but chose not to question it until now. Whether or not Vin consciously recognized it, the gruesome specter of his own body dangling by a rope was clouding his judgement.

"Vin?"

"I's just thinking we could make it back t'town quicker this way. Take at least half a day off the trip."

"What's got you all fired up to get back? I thought you enjoyed being out in the middle of nowhere. All of a sudden it's like you got a burr under your butt."

"Half-hour" Vin splashed his face, ignoring Chris's question, but feeling the green eyes burning a hole in his back. He took a long drink and moved stiffly behind the rocks to relieve himself. Upon finishing, he glanced down briefly, glad to see that the reddish color was fading a little. He moved over to a shady spot, knowing despite his foul mood, Chris would watch out for him. His lack of sleep the night before was catching up to him. The Texan was relieved at the opportunity to allow his back muscles to relax. Once again, the small jar of Nathan's liniment appeared in his mind. The cream was the only true respite he had when his back hurt this much. With a long drawn out sigh of relief he leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

The Gunslinger's cautious gaze watched as his friend's eyes drooped and finally closed. Vin was reluctant to admit weakness of any kind, even to himself. He felt a pang of remorse for not being more observant. The two men shared a special bond and if he hadn't been determined to drown himself in a bottle last night, Vin would have gotten the sleep he needed. Ignoring the incessant pounding in his skull, the resolute blond settled in to stand guard.

+ + + + + + +

"I say we take them now."

Jack Miller considered the words of his companion before spitting tobacco at his feet. The two men were following their prey at a safe distance, waiting for an opportunity to strike. He and Zeke Daniels were the gamblers that Chris Larabee came close to fighting with the night before. Overhearing the comment by the blond about the price on the other man's head led to a profitable discovery. The wanted man was Vin Tanner and he was worth 500 dollars, dead or alive, in Texas.

"We hit them when and where I say." The words were uttered with deadly intent and Zeke shook off a brief feeling of dread before remounting his horse. Thoughts of his share of the reward overriding his apprehension, he followed his partner.

+ + + + + + +

Battling the pain and fatigue that continued to haunt him, Vin tried to focus his attention on the trail ahead. The brief rest revived his energy and relieved some of the agony in his back, but he soon found himself surrendering to his body's betrayal. They were entering an area called Devil's Gulch and the tracker was all too aware that this portion of the trail put them in a vulnerable position. An attacker possessed many vantage points from which to launch an assault. In choosing this route, his consciousness fought this acknowledgement. Faced with the reality, he attempted to squelch his fear and trained his eyes on the cliffs around them.

Chris Larabee also felt his instincts kick in and he slowed his horse and carefully eyed the terrain around them. Although they were again riding in tense silence, he was aware of the tracker's position behind and slightly to the right of him.

Vin's eagle eye caught a reflective flash that reeked of trouble. Seconds later, the air was shattered by the loud report of gunfire. Aiming his mare's leg he fired in the general vicinity of the attackers. Peso reared up at the sudden and violent attack. Fighting to stay in the saddle, Vin registered the harsh recoil of Chris's head and the spray of blood as he was struck. Unable to retain his seating, the sharpshooter felt the breath exit his lungs in a painful rush as he landed on the unyielding ground. Flames of agony engulfed his back and he lay struggling to breathe and conquer the pain. He was barely aware of his partner's dazed and reeling form as Chris stumbled to his feet. He watched in horror as the blond cried out in pain and fell back clutching his right thigh. Desperation fueling his determination Vin managed to crawl to his friend's side.

"Damn!" Vin hissed, as he caught hold of Larabee's muscular arms and began hauling him towards the closest rocks. Sensing the lack of immediate threat, the hidden gunmen rose to gain a clear sight of their targets. The Texan swore as he felt a rock chip graze his cheek. With cat-like swiftness and grace, Vin flung himself forward to lie on his stomach. This allowed him to offer some protection to the gunslinger's body while he brought his weapon up to shoot.

Miller watched with a mixture of shock and admiration at the bullet that pierced the forehead of his companion. He quickly ducked back behind cover and considered his options. Obviously he failed to estimate the skills of his foe. On the bright side, one of the men was incapacitated. He couldn't outshoot his quarry but he lacked the distraction that the wounded man would provide. Glancing around the cliff, his eyes sought and discovered a safe and viable path that lead down into the gully. With any luck he might be able to assault his bounty from behind.

"At least I won't have to share with you." Punctuating his comment with a kick to the body of the dead man and a harsh chuckle, he initiated his descent.

In the meantime, Vin hastened to gather the wounded body of his friend and hauled them both to the relative safety behind an outcropping of rocks. After ensuring that Chris was in a position that would afford him the best protection available, the sharpshooter attempted to locate the position of their attackers. He was pretty sure he managed to kill one of them but he was still in doubt about the number of enemies in the surrounding cliffs. Furiously scanning the area, he failed to find any visual evidence. He was dismayed to discover that the horses were also not present, having bolted at some point during the melee. A heated groan to his left drew his attention. Chris's eyes were fluttering and he was clearly losing the battle to stay conscious. Blood covered the right side of his face, creating a macabre mask. The crimson tide dripped down onto his shirtfront in a steady stream. Even more alarming was the widening red pool under his leg. Whipping off his bandana Vin dropped to his knees and tried to staunch the flow.

"Git yer eyes open, Larabee!" Vin growled.

"V..in... you okay?"

"I'm fine," Vin's reply rode out in a hurry.

Chris's muddled mind replayed the attack and assessed their situation. He knew the leg was bad, he'd been there before. The steady flow of blood from the throbbing wound on his head spelled trouble, especially with no horses. They had only one choice. "Vin..." The rest of the blond's reply was cut off as he tried to bite back the scream of pain that clawed at his throat. His face was a mask of distress and confusion, but his eyes silently pleaded with his friend. "...get going..."

"...save yer breath..."

Chris attempted to rise, which was a bad mistake. The unholy firewall shot up his leg and exploded through the top of his skull. The piercing agony erupted into fiery glory as he lost the struggle with awareness and slid bonelessly to the ground. He never saw the anguished face or felt the comforting arms that caught and held him.

"Gonna get us out'a this, Cowboy." The tracker hoarsely whispered, his trembling hand cupping the noble bloodied chin. He was cognizant of the dangers they faced, but was fearful that his friend would bleed to death before he could get help. Scanning the area around them, his eyes rejoiced at the sight of a small, dilapidated line shack about two hundred yards away.

A sudden tumble of small rocks drew his attention to the bottom of the gorge. Grasping the fact that one of the gunmen was venturing down the cliff in order to come up behind them, Vin steadied his arms on the rock and sighted along the barrel of his mare's leg. A fleeting glimpse of cloth was all he needed. Not willing to risk the opportunity for a better target, he pulled the trigger. A faint echo of a scream and another shower of small rocks proclaimed the fact that his aim was true. The absence of return fire also announced that there was perhaps, no attackers left. Recognizing that he would not be presented with a more preferable opportunity, he hoisted Chris over his shoulder. His blue eyes bulged and he didn't try to suppress the scream of agony that the additional weight produced. Pushing the pulsing fire behind him, he wrestled the awakened demons in his back, while embarking on the most crucial journey of his life.

Part 3

The two hundred yards to the cabin may just have well been two miles. Sweat was coursing down the lean body of the sharpshooter and his ragged gasps were hardly sustaining his oxygen-starved lungs. His back was an all-consuming blaze of pain; he'd passed agony long ago. He was certain that he would feel the impact of a bullet at any moment. Reaching the haven, Vin was thankful to see that the door hung partially open. His staggered steps resembled a drunk on a three-day binge. The only sound that split the air emitted from his lungs as they sucked noisily for air. He blinked back the sting of sweat running in his eyes and bit his lip, forging onward. Finally edging his body and the burden it was transporting through the door, his eyes fell on the welcome sight of an old dirty mattress lying on the floor. Trembling violently, his legs finally surrendered and he collapsed to his knees. He channeled his last stores of energy into getting his friend onto the bedding without aggravating any injuries. His burden safely deposited, the tracker paused to control his breathing. He spent several precious seconds sucking in air, swiping a distracted hand on the river of moisture pouring down his face. Scanning the surroundings, he realized that the shelter would offer protection, but no more than that. There was no sign of water, food or any blankets. There was a small fireplace, but no wood to provide the fuel. Whatever furnishings inhabited the cabin were long gone, probably providing some other wanderer with the comfort of heat.

Turning his attention to Chris, he grasped the torn fabric of his friend's pants and cut an opening in order to examine the wound. Chris was still losing blood at an alarming rate. Vin quickly shrugged out of his jacket and shirt. The outer covering was tossed over the Blond in an attempt to keep him warm. Tearing the sweat dampened shirt into pieces, Vin applied a portion to the leg wound and tied the ends securely in order to provide pressure. He felt the shifting of bones under his hands and knew the bullet had broken the leg. He realized with a sick feeling that the wound was a serious threat to his friend's life. Turning his attention to the head wound, he was relived to see that the bleeding was almost stopped. Using the dampness of the cloth to wipe away the red stains on his friend's face, Vin felt over whelmed by the gravity of the situation. His options were very limited but he was cognizant of the lack of water and the dire circumstances that would result. While he could survive without water for awhile, Chris would die without the life sustaining fluid. After applying a crude bandage to the head injury Vin discarded the rest of the blood stained shirt. Having made up his mind to go search for water, he gently placed his hand on the stricken man's forehead. He winced at the cold, clammy skin and the deathly pallor that testified to the seriousness of the wounds. The fact that the blond did not move during the ministrations to his body was alarming.

"Chris, open yer eyes."

Failing to get a response, he realized that he would have to cause his friend some pain to get him awake. Grasping the left shoulder and shaking the still body, he bent close to the gunslinger's ear and shouted.

"CHRIS! Ya gotta wake up!"

The maneuver had the desired effects and the closed eyelids began to flutter. "That's it Cowboy, shoot some green fire this way"

Vin could see the effort that was being expended on obeying his order and sighed in relief as the gaze settled on his face. The emerald orbs reflected confusion and pain. Waves of guilt washed over the tracker threatening to drown him in hopeless despair.

"V...Vin?"

"Wondered if ya was plannin' on sleepin' all day" Vin's steady voice betrayed the large hole inside him.

"What...what happen...." The question was cut off as Chris's stomach abruptly gave up its contents. Turning his friend swiftly on his side, Tanner provided reassuring support until the vomiting subsided. If it was possible, Larabee was even paler and he fought the pain that reverberated throughout his body.

"Chris, I gotta find us some water."

"Wa..water....thirsty.." The gravely wounded man attempted to rise, only managing to raise his head slightly. Pain lanced through his body and the room began to sway. He fought the darkness that threatened at the edge of his blurred vision. Without warning, an army of violent images assaulted the wounded man's pounding skull. Broken pieces of the puzzle came together. A hot ride, even hotter words, a decision to change their route, gunshots...gunshots...indescribable pain in his head.

"Ya just sit tight, yer safe here. I'll take care o'things..."

"Safe..." Chris's grunt was highlighted by the thousands of poisoned spears that were being driven into every inch of his flesh. The driving pain in his head was making words and movement by the tracker double his discomfort. "...you did a fine job already 'taking care of things'. It's your fault I'm layin' here with my fuckin' head near blown off. Some shortcut...shit..." The wall of agony became too much and he slumped back, not seeing the unbridled horrific guilt his best friend wore.

The words struck Vin like physical blows and he reeled with the pain. Stumbling back from the mattress the blue orbs never took their focus off his friend's face. With mounting guilt and self-recriminations, he watched the accusing green eyes slowly close as Chris lost his courageous battle.

He's right, it is all my fault. I'm so sorry Chris, sometimes I'm a selfish bastard...didn't mean for you to pay for it.

Tears stormed their way to his muddled sky eyes and hovered dangerously, ready to attack, as his mind continued to replay the events of the last day and guilt reigned over his emotions. The quest to save Larabee's life became his driving force and Vin clung to that determination like a drowning man. He rested a trembling hand on the bloodied badge of honor over the strong heart.

"...m'sorry, Chris..." was all his cracked voice could manage. With a deep sigh, he turned away, his heavy heart full of pain.

He remembered a small stream that they passed about a half-mile back. Scanning the room for a container to put some water in, his eyes fell on an old battered canteen hanging near the door. Rising to his feet re-awakened the torment in his back but he forced his body past the pain. He was relieved to see that, although the canteen was in bad shape, it would hold water. Easing the door open slightly, the sharpshooter saw that the sun was positioned overhead. It would be much safer to wait for the cover of darkness but he couldn't afford that particular protection. He was willing to risk everything for the man who was his brother in everything but blood. With the reassuring weight of his gun in his right hand and, keeping as low to the ground as his back would allow, he crept out the door.

Vin's normally cat-like grace was replaced by an awkward stumbling gait as he inched towards the stream. He kept to the rocks and shadows to avoid revealing his movement to an attacker. The Texan moved with as much stealth as he could. However, the parasitic pain that ate at his back dulled his senses. He wasn't aware of the occasional noise his footfalls made. Each stumble over a tiny rock made him want to scream his torment to the world. He was blissfully unaware of his nefarious shadow. Miller's evil grin bespoke his belief that his prey was reduced to easy picking.

Tanner sighed in relief as he spied his goal less than a hundred feet away. Pausing at the streambed, he paused to wonder how he was going to ease his body down to reach the precious fluid. Bracing himself for the agony that lay ahead, he slowly bent at his knees. A grunt was all that escaped the lips that longed to open in a piercing scream. Finally he was resting on his haunches and a shaking hand was pushing the mouth of the canteen under the running water.

He never saw the triumphant shadow shift behind him. The raised rifle stock was visible only to its owner. The tracker felt the blow to the back of his head, gasping in shock as a drapery of darkness began stealing his vision. The cry born of despair, fought through bloodied lips and echoed fearfully through the valley.

"CHRIS!"

Then all was silent.

+ + + + + + +

Four Corners 12:30 pm

Buck Wilmington climbed slowly and carefully out of his saddle, grateful to be home. Five days of hard riding took its toll on a man and he was feeling every minute of the journey. He was weary down to the bone and covered with dust, grime and grit. He was grateful to hand over the reins to the youngest member of the group who's endless energy seemed unaffected by the last few days.

"I'll settle the horses and then meet you in the saloon Buck."

"Sure Kid." The ladies man watched as the youth bustled away. Ah, what he could do with that kind of energy, especially when it came to the fairer sex. Shaking his head, he entered the cool, dim interior of the saloon. Spotting Inez at the bar, he assumed his most engaging smile and stepped forward.

"Did you miss me Darlin'?" Buck boomed, smacking the swaying backside gently.

With a winsome smile Inez offered forth a beer and her answer. "Why, were you not here?"

"Inez, you're breakin' my heart." Buck gripped his chest dramatically. " All a man wants when he comes home from a long ride is a good meal, a strong drink, and a warm, ripe body to share his soft bed."

"Perhaps it is you who are too warm," she offered breathlessly, resting a small hand on his cheek and stroking it. She pressed her body against his and parted her ruby lips, licking them invitingly. Feeling him stir and hearing the groan, she pulled his face lower, her mouth nearly touching his. "I believe I can offer some assistance..." she whispered, then without warning, she upended the mug, sending the cold liquid down the front of the hot cowboy's pants

"Jesus, Inez..." Buck yelped, his cheeks glowing from the loud laughter of the amused patrons. Wilmington glanced ruefully at his stained pride. The vixen's sultry voice still rang in his ears and her scent still clung to him, even though she was once again behind the bar. Sighing and scowling, he then made his way over to his favorite table, noting the absence of Chris and Vin.

"Afternoon Brother Buck." Still chuckling, Josiah poured a mug of beer from their pitcher and offered it to the shamefaced newcomer. Wearing a sly grin, he imparted some worldly advice, "...nice cold bath might make a world of difference."

"Mr. Wilmington, rest assured that this peaceful little borough was sorely lacking in entertainment without you."

"Shut the hell up, Ezra," Buck chastised, smacking the smirking Southerner's arm. He then directed his worried gaze at the vacant chairs. "They're not back yet?"

"Got a wire from Vin yesterday. They were stopping for the night in Eden and then heading home." Nathan explained.

"I would be extremely grateful to never have to see another member of that nefarious gang again." Ezra declared.

"What are you so pissed about? At least you got to stay here and guard the town while we wore our butts to pancakes sitting in them saddles for hours." Buck was amazed that the gambler had the nerve to complain.

"You do grievous injustice to my character Mr. Wilmington. Your absence caused me many sleepless hours worrying about your well being."

"What Ezra means to say is that the gang scared away any potential marks just waiting to get their money fleeced." Nathan knew that few travelers arrived in the town during the absence and could not resist the opportunity to tease the gambler.

Any retort was interrupted by the arrival of the harried sheriff. "I'm starved." J.D. declared, patting his stomach. " Anybody see Chris and Vin?" Sitting down he gratefully accepted a mug of beer.

"Nate was just telling us about a wire they sent from Eden." Josiah offered with the brew. The mug halted its progress towards his mouth as the kid turned pale.

"J.D.? C'mon now you gotta tell us what's wrong here." Buck was worried at the expression on the youth's face.

"Did you say E...den?"

At the nod to his question, J.D. pulled a telegram from his pocket and wordlessly handed it to Wilmington.

"What is it Buck?" Sanchez did not like the look of alarm that Buck was now sporting.

"The Red River Gang attempted to free the prisoner that the boys dropped off. The Sheriff was killed in the shootout. Seems that Vin's wanted poster was found on the body and the Deputy wants to know what's going on."

"But if he's dead, then how could he pose a threat to Vin?" Nathan pointed out.

"It stands to reason that if the Sheriff did not apprehend Vin while he was still within the town boundaries, he was not alone in this venture. Suffice to say, he must have compatriots waiting to undertake Mr. Tanner's capture after departing Eden."

As Ezra's words sank in, each realized that their friends were in grave danger. Even riding hard, Eden was at least a two days away.

Ignoring the protests of his aching posterior, Buck rose to his feet. "J.D., you send a wire to that deputy and tell him that the wanted poster is a mistake. The rest of us will gather the supplies and get the horses ready."

Part 4

Chris Larabee looked at the unfamiliar faces around him. The air was scorching, heat waves rose from the choking dust of the street. He felt the fire sucking his strength, his mouth unable to produce even a tiny bit of spit to relieve the arid thirst of his body. He was unable to resist the wave of people that drew him forward like flotsam trapped in a current. The crowd was noisy; laughter, jeers and catcalls assaulted his ears.

The citizens started to part in front of him as they arrived at the cause of the celebration. He eyed the wooden structure with pressurized trepidation. The Hangman was standing beside the trap door, his pride in this latest achievement evident in his face. Slowly the blond moved forward, his shocked gaze drawn irresistibly to the ground beneath the gallows.

There were two figures; a woman cradled the head of the executed man in her lap. His thundering heart drowned out the noises around him. His mind registered the familiar features even as it fought to deny them. Long, curly brown hair did not completely hide the bloated, lifeless face of his best friend.

"God, no. Please no....Vin?" the words staggered through his cracked lips, born of a broken heart and delivered by a shattered soul.

Hearing his plea, the woman's head rose, the blonde tresses parting to reveal her identity.

The shock reverberated through his body, weakness drove him to his knees. It just couldn't be real.

"Sa..rah?" Chris hissed through cracked lips.

"You promised him. How could you Chris? He was counting on you just like me and Adam. You've let us all down." Her tears flowed from eyes full of loathing and accusation.

He watched with horror as the dead man's eyes opened, the blue orbs ruined with the bloody tears that ran unchecked. The gunslinger felt the air leave his body, the world swirled in a haze, his heart slowed. Remotely his mind registered these sensations and he wondered if this was what dying felt like. Even as his sight dimmed, he knew he would shoulder the burden of betrayal into eternity. The cry was born with his last breath, his last act here on this earth.

"Vinnnnn.....!!"

Awareness returned slowly. His pulse roared through his ears and beat against his chest like a trapped animal. Starved lungs fought for every harsh, gasping breath. Conquering his fear, he managed to open his eyes a fraction. Despite the fading light he could see that he was in a small cabin. The pain bloomed into life then and agony threatened to force him back into darkness. Tremors shook his body as he felt the cold of the encroaching night bite into his skin.

Despite the torrent of pain attacking him, he felt a small respite of relief at the realization that he had been caught in a nightmare. Vin wasn't dead. Through the haze of confusion he remembered bits and pieces. Fingering the bandage around his head, Chris realized that he must have been shot. There was a vague recollection of someone trying to tend his wounds. His hand dropped to his leg, the agony there evidence of another injury. An attempt to move his leg resulted in a pain so fierce it engulfed his entire body. He began to tremble violently and he was able to turn his head to the side just as his stomach rejected its meager contents. Muscles heaved and convulsed as his helpless body reacted to the brutal assault.

Long minutes later, he finally lay spent. He clung to consciousness tenaciously, unwilling to return to the tormented dreams waiting in the darkness. Desperately needing water, he searched around himself for a canteen. Feeling a dampness under his hand, his fingers found the source and grabbed a hold. It was a piece of cloth soaked with a sticky substance that he knew could not be water. Focusing his gaze he recognized Vin's shirt and the terrible dark stains painted upon the garment.

"Vin?"

A terrible realization washed over his trembling body. The tracker was with him earlier, he recalled vague memories of that time. If he was alone now, it meant only one thing...something so horrid he couldn't grasp it fully. His solitary state was only because his friend would die before leaving him here alone.

"No...nooooo." he choked, burying his face in the Texan's mettle of honor. The Tanner scent clung to it, assaulting his senses and breaking his heart.

The cry exploded violently in his mind but his weak throat would only allow a meek whisper. It didn't matter anymore whether he succumbed to the darkness. His dreams were real. As he allowed the blackness to swoop down, Chris wondered if the gruesome specters of his dreams would follow him to Hell.

+ + + + + + +

Evening that same day

The first thing he felt was pain. His head felt like it was going to crumble into dust and shrivel to nothing in the dry, arid heat surrounding him. Each step the horse took echoed through every nerve in his body. He was slung like a piece of meat over the saddle, his hands and feet tightly bound.

The torture seemed to last forever but, it was only minutes after returning to consciousness that Vin felt the horse being brought to a halt. He felt a rough hand grab his hair and stars danced in his eyes as his head was jerked upwards.

"Well, Pretty Boy is finally awake." The comment was accompanied by a violent shove that sent the defenseless tracker tumbling to the ground.

White-hot currents of pain surged through his raw flesh from the reawakened agony in his back. Despite his reluctance to reveal the weakness, this last insult set loose a gasp of agony. Slowly the flaming arrows ebbed and he shivered as the cool evening air struck his body. Where was his shirt and coat? Confusion reigned as he fought to remember the events that brought him to this moment. With a terrible rushing violence, the memories returned. Chris was badly wounded and he was trying to find water. Despair struck him like a fist as he thought of his best friend lying helpless, perhaps even now dying.

A hand grabbed his undershirt and effortlessly repositioned him so that he was sitting up with his back to the nearest tree. The repulsive face of his keeper moved close...too close. The dangerous shine in the attacker's eyes made Vin's stomach drop. The feel of the man's hot fetid breath on his neck and the stench of his unwashed body made him gag.

"Tanner, I don't give a damn if I haul you back to Texas dead or alive. It's all the same to me. Seein' how it's just the two of us we could have us some fun." Caressing the long brown locks with one beefy hand, which idled against Vin's neck, the tobacco-stained fingers moved lower, under the ripped undershirt and drove the intent of the statement home. "Might be worth keeping you alive." The guard laughed, sending a wave of tobacco-soured breath onto the prisoner's face. As he fought hard not to vomit, Vin felt the other vile hand move across his pants. His anger grew and he screwed his face up. Struggling to free himself, the Texan managed to turn his head, muster up what little saliva he had and spit it at the animal that was assaulting him.

Miller rose to his feet and wiped the spittle from his face. "You are going to be one sorry bastard."

A curtain of blackness once again draped itself over Vin as the huge fist smashed into his face at the same time he felt a booted foot connect solidly with his side.

+ + + + + + +

The five peacekeepers covered a considerable distance before the fading light called an inevitable halt to their progress. Each man was reluctant to stop but knew that they could only push the horses so far. J.D. was sent to scout for food as the other men set up camp.

The tense silence was broken by the sound of galloping hooves. The meager light from the fire illuminated the arrival of their youngest trailing two riderless mounts.

"That's Pony and Peso!" Buck moved quickly to examine the horses.

"I found them about a half-mile back near a small creek." J.D.'s voice was breathless with agitation. He dropped the rabbit's he'd caught and jumped down.

"It looks like they've been running hard." Nathan could see the symptoms of exhaustion in their bodies.

"Nate, take a look over here." Josiah was examining dark splotches that covered the saddle and the body of Chris's horse.

"Damn." The healer's face could not hide the dismay he felt.

"What is it?"

"Looks like dried blood. My guess is that whoever's blood it is, he didn't stay in the saddle after being shot"

Buck's anger blossomed at the healer's words. "What do you mean, 'whoever's blood it is'? That's Chris's horse and it's his blood you're talking so casually about."

"Easy Brother, we're all on the same side here." Josiah soothed, moving next to Buck.

Buck turned and took a few steps to look out over the darkness blanketing the landscape. "Sorry Nate, it's just so damn frustrating. " He kicked the tree next to him in frustration, "Out there, somewhere," he lamented, pained gaze raking the horizon, "...they're layin' bleedin'...hurt...or worse..."

"We can't just stand here, let's go look for them." J.D. was naive and eager to be back on the trail.

"I suggest we pause to consider the evidence presented to us." Ezra was silent to this point, his mind trying to fit the pieces into order. "The horses have been fleeing hard, the blood on Mr. Larabee's mount is not of fresh origin. We can assume that an assault upon our compatriots would be conducted as expediently as possible after they departed Eden."

"Damn it Ezra! " Buck scowled, "Quit spittin' out a dictionary. How can you be so calm?"

"Mr. Wilmington, I assure you that I am as worried as you are. I am merely trying to point out the facts."

"Look Buck, what Ezra means is that whatever happened, it took place further than we can get to tonight."

"Thank you, Mr. Sanchez. We cannot go charging into the night. Like it or not we will have to defer our search until first light."

"I'm afraid Ezra is right." The preacher reached over to place a reassuring hand on Buck's trembling shoulder.

Nathan stepped forward to take charge. " Ezra, you and Buck see to the horses. Make sure that they get cooled down and watered. J.D., put some coffee on and me and Josiah 'ill skin them rabbit's and get 'em on a spit."

The men set about their tasks, glad to be doing something, any small thing that would bring them one step closer to finding their friends. Buck's hand rested on Pony's soft mane as he stood still, his gaze searching out into the darkness. His soft promise floated out on the soft breeze. "Hold on Pard. We're coming."

Part 5

The world outside the line shack was eerily quiet. The only sounds came from inside the small cabin. Chris Larabee lay helplessly caught in a dream world inhabited by demons of past foes and ghostly specters of lost loved ones. He could hear Sarah and Adam screaming his name and pleading for help. The heat of the flames scorched his skin and burned his lungs. No matter how hard or how fast he ran, the burning house seemed to get further away from him. Evil laughter erupted from the green bloated faces of enemies long dead.

The gunslinger's sweat soaked head tossed from side to side; his fists gripped the filthy mat and his chest heaved in pain. The fever that began hours ago now raged out of control. His body seemed to be shrinking inward, each tissue and cell crying out desperately for water. In a voice weak and tremulous, the blond searched for the one person even he knew could not respond.

"Vin..."

+ + + + + + +

The Next Day 5:00 am

The five peacekeepers downed a quick meal of biscuits and a hot mug of coffee as they prepared to resume the search in the new light of dawn. The night was reluctant to withdraw from the first glow of day and time weighed heavily on each man. Their grim eyes bore silent witness to the lack of sleep but determination dominated over the visages.

"J.D., your tracking skills good enough for you to pick up a trail?" Buck asked of their youngest.

"Should be pretty easy. Pony has a little notch in the shoe of his right foreleg. Vin showed me a few weeks back and we trailed Chris to...."

"The fishing hole where our nefarious friend was able to catch our Leader unaware. While Mr. Larabee was swimming with Billy, Vin misappropriated his usual black garb and replaced it with my finest apparel."

Even Buck laughed at the memory of the irate Larabee riding back into town wearing a frilly silk shirt and red pants. "Ez, I could understand the shirt but what the hell were you doing with red pants?"

"They were a gift from my dear Mother who has the taste of a brothel madam when it comes to choosing attire befitting her prodigy." At the puzzled looks this statement earned he attempted to clarify its meaning. "If Maude ever offers to help you choose a wardrobe, run and hide. Consider yourselves warned."

"Yeah and if you spot a bored, blue-eyed Texan with that little gleam in his eyes, you better find an excuse to leave town for a couple of days." Nathan joined in the lighthearted banter that was alleviating some of the tension.

"Brother Vin has a way of pulling off some pretty impressive practical jokes." Josiah smiled, thinking on the devilish smile that Tanner wore.

J.D. put voice to the question on everyone's mind. "Buck, do you think they're still alive?"

"I hope so Kid, I sure hope so."

Thirty minutes later found them back on the trail, each of them hoping to find their friends alive by the end of the day.

+ + + + + + +

Vin was awakened by a kick to his bound feet. His side and back ached fiercely and the growling from his stomach was evidence that he hadn't eaten for many hours. It was his thirst that finally overcame his reluctance to speak.

"Wa...ter."

Miller turned from his task of changing the bandage on his left arm. He had no intention of turning his captive in alive. But he was damn well going get some pleasure first, before the real torture began. He'd been in a Mexican prison once and the memories of the questioning ordeal by the guards still remained. Revenge for this bullet wound was going to be sweet. Holding the canteen to the prisoner's mouth, he allowed a few swallows of the vital liquid. Then, grabbing a fist full of hair he began to pour water into his prisoner's mouth faster than it could be swallowed. Helpless to move his head, Vin began to choke and thrashed violently against the bindings that held him in place. Just as he was sure that his lungs would never feel blissful air again, the canteen was removed. He vomited violently, water shooting from his nose and mouth, leaving him weak and disoriented. Painful coughs wracked his lean frame and he struggled to draw precious air into his body. He heard his captor's laughter and knew the sadistic bastard would enjoy watching him suffer.

Remembering the events of last night, the Texan realized that he had to escape before nightfall. He didn't even know if Chris was still alive. The thought of his friend lying helpless, possibly bleeding to death was too much to bear. A sob of despair rose in his throat and he fought to control it. He shuddered as he felt himself lifted and slung like a piece of meat across a saddle. Fighting the darkness that threatened to envelope him as his nerve endings screamed in pain, he felt himself being tied to the horse by the waist. Hope flared into being as he realized that this could be the fatal mistake he was waiting for. While his hands were still bound, he could still maneuver them to search in the saddlebag for a weapon.

+ + + + + + +

Noon

Dunne studied the ground before him, trying to remember all that Vin taught him.

"Listen J.D., you've got to be sure about this. If you're wrong and we go off in the wrong direction, it could cost Vin and Chris their lives." Despite the burden that the statement implied, the look on Buck's face was one of open concern for his young friend.

"I'm telling you the tracks are leading that way." The young sheriff's hand pointed ahead and to the right.

"Why would they take a different trail? Only route to Eden that I know of is this one." Wilmington couldn't allow their youngest to take the responsibility of a decision onto himself. That meant that he had to make the choice and it was eating away at him.

"Perhaps Mr. Tanner knew a shortcut through the hills. After all, Eden is a three day ride from Four Corners and his wire did estimate their arrival in two days." The Gambler offered. "Maybe we should separate and explore both routes."

"It's been at least twenty-four hours since the injury. One of 'ems hurt and we can't afford to split up. Whatever trail we take, we go together." Nathan was trying to hide his worry but he was certain that time was not a commodity that they could afford to waste.

"Then we follow the trail up into the hills and pray that we find them." The verdict made, Buck mounted his horse and moved forward.

+ + + + + + +

1:00 pm

Vin could not believe his luck. His search of the saddlebag turned up an old knife. Not as sharp as he would have liked but he was slowly sawing through the bindings at his wrist. As the last strand broke, he almost cried out with the joy of it. He frantically rubbed the circulation back into his hands. This time the pain was a welcome friend. All he had to do now was wait until his captor chose to call a break.

He didn't have long to wait as fifteen minutes later they came to a small stream. Miller figured the horses needed the water and it was time to have a little fun with his bounty. Visions of the prisoner's young body caused the leering guard to itch. He rubbed his groin in eager anticipation. Easing the horses into the water, he reached over and cut the rope holding Tanner to the saddle. A light shove was all it took to send the smaller man tumbling helplessly into the stream.

Vin felt the shock of cold water and clung to the knife with desperation. Despite the suffering that engulfed him he had enough wits about him to keep his unbound hands hidden beneath the surface.

"Sorry about that but I like my piece of ass nice and clean." The leer that accompanied this statement sickened Vin.

"Yer a lot of talk, I laid with snakes that're cleaner..." Vin's battered brain fought to find ways to make the brute angry with him. He hated the thought but he needed to get real close to the enemy if he was going to win this battle.

"That so boy? You ain't never been with the likes of me," he warned, grabbing his crotch. "I'm hung like a horse, gonna split you wide open. You're going to beg me to shoot you."

"Yer kind is all talk," Vin hissed, tensing as the brute approached. "Ya couldn't get it up with a ladder."

The remark had its desired affect as Vin watched the rage suffuse Miller's face with a dangerous shade of red. With a raging howl, he saw the beefy guard bending over him. Praying the knife was sharp enough, the Texan gripped the knife and waited until the target was almost upon him before raising his hands out of the water. The force of the impact drove the weapon into the chest of the heavier man. It also sent Vin reeling backwards. With his feet still bound together he was unable to maintain his balance and his head slipped under the surface. Desperately his feet sought purchase so he could stand again. Just before he was able to accomplish this, he felt a hand grab his shirt and pull him down. The Tracker felt his lungs begging for oxygen, his brain was pleading for another breath. Seeing his last chance, Vin gathered his strength and savagely bit down on the arm wound he had inflicted just two days ago.

Suddenly released, the sharpshooter's head reached the surface and he greedily gulped the precious oxygen. Ruthlessly, Vin grabbed his weakened opponent's neck and thrust his head under the water. Miller's waning strength was no match for the desperate prisoner and minutes later, his struggles ceased. The body floated to the surface and Vin pulled the knife from the gruesome wound. It was a few awkward moments before he reached shallow water and could sit and saw at the ropes binding his feet.

Despite his own discomfort and the fatigue that dogged his steps, Vin willed his body up and moved towards the tethered horses. Searching the dead man's saddlebags, he found some stale biscuits and hardtack. It was not exactly appetizing fare, but he realized that his body needed the fuel. Grimly, he chewed at the tasteless food, his mind conjuring images of Chris lying wounded back at the cabin. He was a good one-day ride from the shack and despair surfaced as he acknowledged the fact that the blond could very well be dead by now. Swallowing his fear, the Texan mounted the stronger of the two horses and spurred it into a gallop.

+ + + + + + +

The tracks left by the horses proved easy to follow and the searchers were able to close in on their quarry by late afternoon. Looking at the steep walls of the surrounding canyon, Buck voiced the thought on all their minds.

"Hate to admit it, but if I was planning an ambush this is a perfect spot."

J.D. continued to scan the ground, his meager tracking skills confused at the trail which had been marred by the hoof prints of at least two other horses. Bending low to examine the puzzle laid out before him, the youngster was the first to find evidence of human tracks. Circling behind a group of rocks he made the grim discovery.

"Buck, over here."

"What is it Kid?" The older man moved to examine the findings. He grimaced as his eyes recognized the telltale pool of dried blood. "Nate?"

The healer also recognized the brown stain soaked into the ground but did not mention the fear he felt at the amount of it.

Dunne was following another trail, having spotted small maroon stains in the surrounding area. He spotted the small cabin in the distance and quickly summoned the attention of his companions. "Hey, there's traces of blood on the ground. Looks like they lead to that shack."

The others looked at the object the young lawman pointed to and drew their guns.

"Nathan you're with me. The rest of you keep an eye out." Wilmington ordered.

The two men crept slowly towards their destination. While the shelter could be harboring the missing men, they were also wary of a trap. Buck stood to one side of the door as he reached out with his foot and kicked the feeble door open. Crouching with his gun ready to fire, his eyes swept the contents of the room. Sighting the lone occupant, his weapon dropped from his hands as he rushed to the side of his friend.

"Chris!" His shaking fingers pressed against the fever-slick neck, searching for a pulse. Eyes filled with grief he looked up at the Healer. "No pulse...I can't find a pulse. He's...dea..dead."

Part 6

The tense silence was broken by the sound of the others piling into the small shelter. Nathan's sensitive fingers probed for a pulse while his keen eyes searched the chest of the injured man for movement.

A sigh of relief pushed past the soulful healer's lips, before he started barking orders. "He's alive but in bad shape. Buck, you get a fire started. J.D., get my medical bag. Ezra, you find me lots of water. I've got just what he needs in my herb sack for that fever. Josiah, I'm going to need your help with Chris"

As the men hurried to their tasks, Jackson began an examination of his patient. He was burning up with fever, his skin was scorching hot. He was clearly dehydrated from the dryness and poor turgor of his flesh. Seeing the blood soaking the left pant leg, Nathan turned his attention to that injury first. Removing the crimson stained dressing was difficult as the bottom layer was adhered to the skin.

"Josiah, grab a canteen. I got to soak this thing off."

The two men were able to remove the encrusted linen and the preacher moved to remove the pant leg and boot as Nathan examined the wound. The surrounding skin was swollen and red and a small amount of blood streaked pus oozed from the bullet hole.

"Damn, bullet's still in there. Broke the bone too." Seeing that a fire was now burning in the fireplace, the black man issued more orders. "Buck, get that water warming fast. I'm gonna need a couple of strong branches about three feet long. Then I want you to start ripping up any extra clothes we have to use as bandages. I got linen strips with me, but I'm gonna be needin' lots of changes.

Josiah accepted the cool water the gambler handed him and started bathing the fevered body. Pausing at Chris's mouth, he pressed the wet cloth onto the cracked, bleeding lips and managed to get the moisture inside as well.

"Is he going to make it Nate?" Wilmington's trembling voice revealed his fear.

"He's in real bad shape." the healer's voice was tense and his eyes riveted to his charge." Infection has set in and I got to get the bullet out and clean the wound. If he survives the night we have a chance at saving him. I'm going to need you and Josiah to help me. I'm going to need lots of light so find all the lanterns you can and get them lit."

Buck reached for a lantern by the door and he spotted the worried faces of Ezra and J.D. as they waited just inside the door of the cabin. Suddenly realizing that there was no sign of Vin, he determined that a search should begin.

"Is Chris going to be okay?" The kid's seemingly endless source of energy turned to worry and fear.

"I don't know." Buck replied. "Either of you spot any trace of Vin? His coat was covering Chris, he could be out there wounded."

"I discerned some footprints near the stream but no evidence of Mr. Tanner." Ezra couldn't disguise the worry in his voice. "Perhaps we could start searching the surrounding area while you attend to our fallen comrade."

"Thanks Ez. Just don't get busted up stumbling around in the dark. Nathan's got his hands full."

"Rest assured Mr. Wilmington, I shall endeavor to protect my derriere from any unpleasant encounters with abusive elements."

"Huh?"

"What he means J.D., is that he'll watch his ass." The sly rogue translated with a grin.

"I don't see anything special that needs protecting." Dunne punctuated his tease with a doubtful look at the suave southerner's backside.

Grabbing the youngster by the collar, Ezra turned towards the horses. "Let's depart before I change my mind."

Turning to stare at Chris's drained features, Buck made a silent plea to God. He was going to do everything in his power to see his oldest friend regain his health. With any luck they would also find Vin alive and well. In his heart he knew that Chris shared a deep bond with the younger man, a kinship that went far beyond anything they had once shared. The one man that could pull him back from the brink of death was out there somewhere. He prayed for all their sakes that they would find him alive. Taking a deep breath he stepped into the cabin.

+ + + + + + +

Throughout the ministrations of Nathan and Josiah, the sick man remained unconscious. His temperature was a little cooler with the cold water that was applied to his skin but it was imperative to remove the bullet. The healer debated about trying to wake Chris but opted to perform the surgery while he was still senseless. The instruments were cleaned in boiling water and two lanterns provided enough light to visualize the wound.

"Josiah, I want you to hold his legs." Jackson eyed Buck carefully before addressing him. "You grab a hold of his arms and chest. I'm not sure if he'll move but you boys make sure you're ready."

Satisfied at the nod of acceptance from the men, the skilled dark fingers began cleaning the pus and detritus from the ugly wound. Using a liberal amount of carbolic, he worked carefully. After a few minutes blood ran freely from the injury but there did not appear to be any more purulent drainage. Chris lay silent during the procedure, which worried but did not surprise Nathan. Picking up his probe, he checked to ensure that the patient was well restrained. He inserted the probe into the gory mass of torn flesh, wincing as he felt the tip grate on a ragged piece of broken bone.

To his astonishment, the patient moaned and his head thrashed about on the crude pillow that was fashioned from a jacket. Buck stroked the flushed face whispering words of comfort to the suffering man. As soon as Chris was settled, his oldest friend watched as the probe was advanced deeper into the vulnerable flesh. Relief swept through Jackson's body as he felt the instrument encounter the foreign metal of the bullet.

"Okay, found the slug. Hold him real good cause this is going to hurt."

Nathan carefully inserted a pair of forceps into the wound until it was over the bullet. Gripping the metal tightly, he drove the instrument forward. The jolt of agony awakened raw nerve endings in Larabee's body as he fought to escape the demons holding him down. Wilmington cringed at the pain they were causing his friend but was also rejoicing at the show of strength from the man. As the deadly missile was freed from the imprisoning flesh, a cry of raw torment was set loose from bloodless lips. Chris's strength was short lived and his limbs collapsed into the protecting arms that held him.

Buck's gentle hands wiped the pale face with a damp cloth and his fingers sought the reassuring pulse that beat rapidly under the heated skin.

"I'm going to pack the wound with lint soaked in carbolic. Then we have to set his leg."

The men maintained their positions although there was no further movement from the frail body. Even when Nathan pulled the bones of the femur back into alignment, only a shudder ran through the lean form. Soon the leg was encased in a crude splint and the weary medic sat back to wipe the sweat from his brow. The head injury was less work and Josiah was able to prepare a tea with healing herbs as Nathan and Buck set about cleaning and stitching the gouge.

"Nate, is he going to make it?" Despite the trembling in his voice, Wilmington's hands were sure and steady as he bathed the fevered brow with cold water.

"I don't know. If we can keep his fever down and get lots of fluids into him tonight he may survive the trip back to Four Corners."

Buck was shocked at the reply. "You ain't aiming to put him on a horse tomorrow? That'll kill him! Might as well put a bullet between his eyes now."

"We'll put him on a travois."

"That doesn't answer my question. What are you trying to do to him?"

Jackson bowed his head as he considered his answer. He was really hoping to put this discussion off until later but it was starting to look like he didn't have a choice.

"I'm trying to save his life. I don't have the equipment here that I'll need."

Josiah placed a reassuring hand on the black man's shoulder. "You're carrying a heavy burden, share it with us and lighten the load."

"I'm not sure I can save his leg. It may come down to cutting it off to save his life. If that happens, I want to be back in town."

"No, you can't...his leg...Jesus..." Buck raked a hand through his dark hair and watched the pale features below him on the bed. Chris Larabee was the strongest man he knew, if anybody could survive, it would be him.

"I'm sorry Buck. I'll do everything I can."

Looking into the soulful brown eyes, Wilmington could see tears mirrored in their depths. This man had saved each of their lives at some point and earned their trust.

"I know you will Nate."

The beat of hooves reverberated through the air. Wilmington bolted for the door and quickly identified the riders. "It's J.D. and Ez..."

"Did you find any..." Buck's voice died in his throat when he saw the morbid expression on J.D.'s face. He turned a fast glance at Ezra, who looked even worse. The two men climbed down and stood by their mounts, shaken to the core. "Oh God...Oh fuck..." Buck kicked the ground, realizing that the grim twin expressions meant only one thing. "Where is he?" his broken voice trembled.

"A few miles back, at the bottom of a steep hill..." Ezra frowned and shut his eyes, trying to erase the image of Vin Tanner's broken, lifeless body.

"You left him there?" Buck charged over, gripping the once colorful jacket, now dusty and mud covered. "What the hell is the matter with you. That's Vin Tanner! Jesus Christ, Ezra, you gave them scavengers Vin as a dinner feast."

"BUCK!" J.D. pushed his smaller body between the two, forcing Buck's deathgrip to loosen and grant Ezra oxygen. "We didn't have any choice..."

"You always got a choice!" Buck steamed, "The Kid might not know any better, but you should have. You heartless bastard!" he leveled the Southerner with one punch, before Josiah grabbed him.

"Cut it out, Buck," the eldest roared, "That ain't helpin' anything. J.D. what happened?"

"Well," J.D. knelt by Ezra and tapped his face, waiting for the green eyes to blink. "We saw him...a body...and got as close as we could. It's at the bottom of a ravine...all rocky and nothing for leverage. Ezra tried for a half hour to get to him, that's how he got hurt. I tried to talk sense into him but..."

"Hurt?" Buck asked, noticing the odd angle of Standish's shoulder.

"Knocked his shoulder out. My rope wasn't long enough." J.D.'s head bowed, his stomach twirling at the horrid sight he couldn't wash from his eyes. "Ezra undid the rope and tried to get to...to..." J.D. hauled Ezra up and felt his bile rising.

"A head wound, the face," Ezra said stoically grimacing and holding his arm, " was also damaged by the rocks it encountered on its way down. There wasn't much left..."

"Ez...only got halfway down...when he fell." J.D. suddenly felt very exhausted, and his face reflected that along with a new line of seasoning. "We lost the light...it's pitch black out there...I barely was able to get Ezra back...I'm sorry Buck..." He raised his face and stared at the anguished features of the man who'd become the older brother he always wanted. The last thing he ever wanted to see in that face was disappointment...in him. "Vin was my friend too. I wouldn't have left him if..."

"Yeah, I know, Kid," Buck hushed, moving to stand by Standish. "Come on, let's get Nate to look at your arm." He extended his hand and Ezra brushed by him, still angry at the insinuation.

"I only returned to seek Nathan's aid and get some supplies. I am returning to make camp near..." Ezra paused, fingering the fringes on Vin's jacket, which had been hanging near the door. "You won't sleep alone tonight my friend. It will be my honor to guard..." he shook his head and with a heavy sigh, headed inside.

Part 7

The mood inside the little cabin was somber, each of the men filled with grief over the loss of the sharpshooter and consumed with worry over the state of Chris's health. Despite Nathan's loud arguments, Ezra insisted on returning to the site where the body lay in order to guard it against four-legged predators. His dislocated shoulder was immobilized in a sling and his ever-present flask would chase off the worst of the pain.

Buck insisted on accompanying the somber Standish back to the area where the corpse was discovered. They rode in tense silence, guilt flayed at him, but he couldn't find the words to mend the rift he created. The green-eyed gambler was engulfed in memories of the man who had become a friend, despite the diversity of their personalities. Arriving at the spot high up on the cliff where the body was initially discovered, both men dismounted. Wilmington removed the lantern dangling from his saddle and lit it. Mustering his courage he looked over the edge, the meager flame providing little illumination. Jagged rocks dotted the cliff and were a stark contrast to the almost pastoral scene below. Trees grew alongside the nearby stream lending a sense of peace to the countryside. Following the path of water, Buck's eyes came to rest on the prone figure, twisted limbs flung out like a cast aside ragdoll.

It was impossible to make out any features from this distance and height but it was evident that the body suffered numerous injuries. The one thing Buck was able to discern was the pale Tanner pants and the long hair covering the broken neck.

"Damn it! This just ain't right."

"I'm not sure anything will ever be right again Mr. Wilmington." Ezra turned his attention to his guns trying to ignore the look of grief and anguish on the other man's face.

Buck set about getting a fire started. He laid out a bedroll and collected enough firewood for the night. While he didn't like leaving Ezra here alone all night, he knew Chris needed him more.

"I'll be back in the morning." He assured the other, before remounting his horse and heading back to the line shack.

"Mr. Wilmington?"

Turning around in the saddle, Buck spotted the figure standing sentinel over his friend.

"Don't let anything happen to Chris."

Tipping his hat in a brief salute, the Ladies Man spurred his horse forward.

+ + + + + + +

Buck hovered over his deathly ill friend, talking to him in a soothing voice and cooling his burning flesh with cool water. For the most part, Larabee was deathly still but the steadfast figure noticed that the pale lips were moving slightly although no sound issued forth.

"Nate? I think he might be waking up a bit."

Grabbing a cup of herbal tea the healer moved to examine his patient. He was desperate to get some fluids into the dehydrated body.

"Speak to him Buck. Try to get him awake enough to take some of this tea."

"C'mon pard, wake up now." Gently the charmer cupped the sick man's face and leaned in close. "You can do it. Open up them pretty green eyes and glare at me."

With tremendous effort the eyelids parted slowly and the blond moaned with the awakening of pain. Josiah positioned himself behind Chris in order to elevate his head and facilitate drinking. The gunslinger took a small sip from the cup that was presented to him. The liquid was soothing to the gritty sandpaper that had taken up residence in his throat. His mouth worked at trying to produce a sound but it was several attempts before he could whisper the single syllable.

"V....in"

Wilmington shuddered when he recognized the barely audible word. Chris's usual bright emerald eyes were glazed and unfocused.

"It's Buck. Nathan is here and that's Josiah helping you to sit up. Take some more of this tea."

They were able to get some more tea into anxious patient, but he seemed to grow more agitated as he searched for the blue orbs of the Texan. With surprising strength, he fought the arms that held him.

Through a hazy storm of pain and searing flesh, the injured man squinted at the garish faces over him. His blurry vision made them distorted and strange. He blinked and searched for that which he could not see. Why wasn't Vin here? Chris fevered mind fought to remember where he was and what had happened. He knew something was horribly wrong. The feeling that he came to realize was his bond with the Texan was gone.

"Dead...Vi...n. My fault....dead...fuck... " He pounded his fist weakly against the mat and with that chilling statement, the blond turned his head towards the wall refusing to take further sustenance.

"Chris? Listen to me pard." Buck hated what he was about to do. "Vin ain't dead. He's waiting for you back in Four Corners."

"Promised he ...wouldn't hang. Let...let him down." Chris's weak voice cracked and his glazed eyes filled with anger. "...broke my word...his blood on...m...m..my hands..."

Gently grasping Larabee's chin, Wilmington directed Chris to look at him. "You were dreaming. Vin didn't hang. He's waiting for you back in town and you can't let him down. He needs you, we all need you."

The weakened man clung to the words like a lifeline and quieted under their spell. Obediently, he swallowed some more of the tea before his eyelids drooped and he succumbed to the velvet darkness again.

Self-loathing boiled to the surface and Buck stood up and smashed his fist against the nearest wall. "Damn it! I accused Ezra of being a coldhearted bastard. Maybe I should just look in the mirror!"

Josiah placed a calming hand on the trembling arm. "Brother, you can't blame yourself for all this. What if Vin isn't dead? Are you going to take hope away from Chris when he needs it the most?"

"What if he is dead? How am I going to tell that man that I lied?" A tear hovered dangerously in the dark blue eyes, the bearer brushed it away angrily.

"Well, Buck," Josiah sighed, "if Chris is strong enough to get riled up, I'd say you did your job. Don't you see? Chris needs that to pull through. Vin's his hope...alive or dead..." he paused and watched the play of emotions on the tall man's face. Then he cast a glance at the pale still figure in the bed, body glistening with sweat. The chest was barely rising now, "You got to be prepared, if gangrene sets in, we could lose him..."

"Don't say it Preacher. I ain't in the mood for one of your sermons. Chris ain't gonna die!" Wilmington spat the words in anger. Flinging himself free of contact he spun and strode angrily out the door.

Sanchez glanced at the pale motionless form of their leader before sending a silent plea for healing to the heavens.

+ + + + + + +

The night proved to be a long torturous battle with the fever that gripped Chris in the throes of Hell. He alternated between delirious fits and periods of deathly stillness. Nathan managed to get some water and more tea into him during the times when he was more awake but the cries for Vin and his dead wife and son tore his soul. He would wish for the tortured soul to lapse into unconsciousness again only to find himself worrying at the deathlike quality of his limp body. Only Buck seemed to be able to soothe Larabee when he twisted and moaned in an effort to escape the agony engulfing his body. Calmly stroking his face with a wet cloth, the ladies man spoke soft reassuring words to his oldest friend. Chris would cease his struggles and turn trusting eyes to the safe haven in the familiar timbre of the voice. From Buck, he would take a little water and tea before once again losing the battle to remain awake. Dreading the long journey ahead, each man fought to get some sleep. However, the faint light of the fire revealed the haggard faces that still bore the grim determination they possessed to get their friend home safely.

Buck was resting with his back to the wall waiting for the next delirious episode. Nathan was examining his patient again and frowned at what he saw. Bad news was written on every line on his face.

"What is it Nate?" The other men in the room roused at the query that was issued.

"Don't like the look of this leg."

Wilmington hustled over to peer at the limb. The wound appeared red and angry but there was no evidence of pus. The healer then raised the lantern so that Buck could see the lower portion of the leg and his stomach lurched. The lower leg and foot were definitely paler in color.

"Could be gangrene settin' in. We don't have much time if it is." Nathan knew that Chris's chances of surviving were slim if that were the case. "We gotta leave for home now."

"Josiah, you make sure that travois is ready. J.D., start packing up." Buck was actually relieved at the thought of taking action instead of just sitting around. "I'll go help Ez with the body."

"Wait Buck, I can't spare you. You're the only one that can calm him. Moving him onto the travois is gonna hurt real bad."

J.D. stepped forward with an idea. "I'll stay behind to help Ezra. We'll meet you on the trail."

Wilmington surveyed his young friend startled to observe how he seemed to have aged overnight. He appreciated the offer and made his decision. "Okay Kid. But if I don't see that damn sissy hat of yours..."

"Buck cut it out." J.D. flushed at the emotive stare, "Just take care of Chris."

Reaching out to ruffle the youngster's hair, the older man chuckled at the look of indignation his action produced. He was proud of the man Dunne was becoming and took comfort in their friendship. No matter what happened in the days ahead, he was suddenly very glad that this young man had ventured to come to Four Corners. Fate was a quirky Lady. Now if only she would stay on their side for a few more days.

Part 8

The following morning 6:00 am

Despite his determination to stay awake all night, the combination of pain and weariness took its toll and Ezra found himself dozing off. He suddenly became aware of someone calling his name and shaking his uninjured shoulder. He jerked to full awareness and brought his gun up to aim at the intruder.

"Ezra, it's me...J.D. Don't shoot."

"Wha...what are you doing here?"

"Yeesh, just about getting my head blown off by you." Dunne's concern for the gambler quickly had turned to fear and he fought to control his rapid heartbeat.

"I'm sorry, I must have dozed off. Where's Buck?"

"Chris took a turn for the worse during the night and he headed back to town with the others. I came back to help you get the...get Vin's body back."

Ezra quickly remembered the reason he spent the night out in the wilderness and felt guilt wash through him for having fallen asleep. The remorse tripled when he peered over the edge of the cliff and was not able to see the form of his friend.

"J.D. get over here!"

The urgency in his friend's voice made the youngster move swiftly.

"Tell me my eyes are deceiving me." The gambler felt the panic growing.

"I don't see him Ez."

"God no, I've let him down again. How stupid could I be? I let my guard down and some godforsaken creature absconded with his remains." Standish sank to his knees and covered his face with his good hand. Guilt seized him with its fangs, the sharp talons piercing his soul.

Dunne looked at the stricken man with surprise. Ezra wasn't a man used to showing his emotions. It was a little amusing to note that the fancy words deserted him during times like these. He searched his mind for other possibilities.

"Wasn't the body real close to the stream?" At the affirmative nod, he continued to guess at the possibilities. "The current looks like it could be real strong. Could be the body got swept downstream."

"Let's check then." Shoving aside his inner turmoil, Ezra rose to his feet. A sudden bout of dizziness sent him reeling back to his knees.

"Whoa." The sheriff reached out an arm to grab the unsteady form. He was shocked by the trembling and the coldness he could feel right through the southerner's jacket. Searching through pockets he located the flask that Ezra kept handy. Uncapping it he offered it to the pale lips. The warmth from the liquor seeped into Ezra's bones and he welcomed the familiar comfort.

"You aren't going anywhere but back to the cabin." J.D. gathered up the nearby blanket and wrapped it around the shivering form.

"I made a promise to Mr. Tanner and I intend to keep it. Mr. Larabee is right not to trust me."

"You kept your promise. You stayed here all night with Vin. I think he would be really grateful to you."

" Truly?"

The Kid grimaced at the pale, tortured features. "Yup and he'd be downright pissed if you got sick because of it."

"He would just sit in Mr. Jackson's clinic and laugh at the sight of me having to drink what he referred to as 'horse piss'."

J.D. laughed at the memory of all the times the Texan cursed at Nathan's remedies. "He'd probably convince Nate that you needed a good double dosing of that stuff."

"That he would." A fond smile graced the gambler's face. It was replaced by a grimace of pain as he struggled to his feet.

"C'mon mount up and I'll take you back to the shack. While you rest I'll check the river."

Grudgingly the gambler gave in. He was feeling poorly and admitted to himself that he really didn't think he could ride further than the line shack anyhow.

The journey was made in silence and Ezra accepted the supporting arm of the younger man. Despite his perceived betrayal, Standish was asleep as soon as his body collapsed upon the mattress. Dunne covered him with a blanket and stoked a flame to life in the fireplace. He made sure that there was a canteen filled with water nearby before leaving once again to start his grim search.

+ + + + + + +

Vin rode like the hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels. Every time flames of agony tried to rip at his back or fatigue threatened to topple him from the horse, he pictured Chris's face begging him for help. As long as there was any chance that his friend could still be alive, the Texan would push himself beyond the boundaries of human endurance.

Finally, he spotted the worn gray cabin in the distance and he spurred the horse even faster. Even before he could see the smoke curling languidly above the shelter, he smelled the well-known aroma. Hope warred with dread, as he perceived that the shack could be occupied with friend or foe. As he neared, his eyes rejoiced at the familiar mare that belonged to Ezra Standish.

He dismounted rapidly, biting back the scream that threatened to break free as the movement sent shivers of pain flying down his spine. Carefully he approached the shack, mindful of the dangers that could be laying in wait. The lone occupant was a blanket- covered form lying on the thin mattress, the face indiscernible. Holding his breath in fear of what lay underneath, Vin grabbed a corner of the covering and gently peeled it away from the head.

"Ezra?"

The Texan felt his heart skip a beat as the revelation appeared. The dread that filled him started to melt as hope flared within his chest. The others must have come searching for them and found Chris. Did they find him alive or were they heading back to town with his body?

"Dammit, wake up!" Desperate for answers the sharpshooter began shaking the gambler's shoulder vehemently.

Bleary eyes opened and attempted to focus on the face of the rude beast that was trying to rouse him from his slumber. Long unruly hair surrounded the indistinguishable features. Seconds later the haze cleared and his brain finally recognized Vin Tanner.

Shock gave way to horror as a terrified scream erupted from the southerner's throat. Shuffling as far away from the apparition as he could, he started rambling "Good Lord, you've come back to torture me!" Pulling his injured arm free of the sling, he raised his arms as if to ward off a blow.

"What?" Vin screwed his exhausted face up. Genuinely confused, Tanner tried to draw some answers out of the delirious man. "Ezra, where's Chris? Is he alive?"

"Just like poor old Scrooge. I repent my sins." the guilt-ridden figure admonished, his eyes still glazed, "I shan't wear Marley's chains and boxes...no more cheating or swindling. I'll even give up the whiskey." Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the flask and flung it away. He looked at Vin expectantly, certain that the vision would fade away.

"Ya finished? " Vin huffed, his last nerve fried. "Where the fuck is Chris?"

"What? You're the ghost. Can't you just pick and choose where you appear?"

His patience stretched beyond endurance, Tanner reached out and grabbed Ezra by the shoulders and began to shake him. "I ain't no fuckin' ghost and if ya don't tell me where the hell Chris is, yer gonna be the fuckin' corpse totin' Marley's damn chains!"

The look of alarm on Standish's face would have been comical in less dire circumstances. Ezra's puzzled eyes regarded the solid flesh grasping him on one side before turning and studying the other hand gripping his arm. With trepidation, he reached out a trembling finger and quickly poked the chest in front of him. Astonished that his digit encountered a warm solid barrier, he repeated the action. Vin watched with bemusement, unable to comprehend why Standish was so certain he was dead.

"Vin? You're still among the living?" The weight of the question staggered the conman, who gripped the smaller man's arm even tighter.

"That's what I've been tryin' ta tell ya." The Texan fought his way free and tried once again for the elusive answers. "Where's Chris?"

The gambler's grin faded as grim reality once again surfaced. "Buck and Nathan are taking him back to Four Corners. He's perilously ill."

"He's alive?"

"I pray that he is."

The Sharpshooter was puzzled by Ezra's presence in the shack. "Why aren't ya with 'em?"

"J.D. and I remained to retrieve your body before following our companions back to town." At the confused riddled look on the tracker's face the southerner continued his explanation. "We found a body but couldn't reach it. Mr. Larabee's was alone and injured. We presumed the corpse was you."

The Texan's pale face blanched at the thought of his friend. Alone and injured. The words reverberated through his skull. "I have to get to him Ez."

"They departed four hours ago. Take my horse and get going."

"What about you?" Concern accompanied the words as he looked pointedly at the empty sling.

"This is just a minor inconvenience." Vin leaned in close and aided Standish in his painful attempt to arrange his injured arm back into the restraining cloth. "Our esteemed sheriff will be returning to this little abode shortly. I assure you we will be hasten to bring up the rear."

Tanner grinned at the resurgence of the fancy words that signaled Ezra's return to composure. Turning to leave, Vin was stopped by the sound of softly spoken words.

"Welcome back my friend."

Favoring the gambler with one of his lopsided grins, he replied. "Thanks Ez."

Watching the figure disappear, Standish settled back into the mattress to await Dunne's return. He wasn't even aware of the satisfied grin plastered across his face.

+ + + + + + +

Noon

The group of men traveling back to Four Corners halted their progress under the shade of some Willow Cotton trees. The noonday sun was scorching, a red ball of fire sending flames to lick at their dry skin. The small stream nearby would help slake their thirsts and help to cool the fever raging within Chris's body.

Dipping a cloth into the refreshing water, Buck moved in to start wiping the sweat running in rivulets down the Blond's face. "How's he doing?"

Nathan's face betrayed his worry. Fresh blood stained the bandage around the wound. He didn't have to lift the bandage to know there was pus present. His nose detected the sour scent of the green excrement that he knew resided in the leg. At least he could tell it wasn't gangrene yet. That was a smell that he would never forget from his long years as a medic during the war. He wasn't sure that the bone was still in alignment, the jostling from the travois may have displaced the ragged ends. His stomach churned as he remembered the agonized cry of pain that issued from the sick man as they initially placed him on the conveyance. Moans and gasps punctuated the tense silence during the ride as they traveled over inevitable rocks and other small obstacles.

"He's real bad. I just don't know how much more his body can take."

"Jesus Nate, we're another a good day's ride from town. Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know, I'm doing the best I can!" Frustration drove Jackson to spit the words out with anger.

"Take it easy, both of you. Chris doesn't need to hear the two of you tearing each other apart."

Buck turned to look at the ashen features of his friend. "What do you need me to do Nathan?"

"You try to get some water into him. I'm going to clean out the wound."

The worried medicine man began the grim task of cleaning the festering wound. Once he was satisfied that all the pus was cleaned out, he repacked the injury with gauze soaked in carbolic. Throughout the painful procedure, Larabee lay insensate. His apprehension heightened as he noticed that the Blond wasn't responding to Wilmington's voice. His limbs lay flaccid and his eyes remained closed. Despair flooded through him as he recognized that their efforts to save the leader might be futile. If they couldn't get any fluid into the ill man, he didn't stand a chance of surviving the brutal journey.

Part 9

The trio made the decision to resume their journey to Four Corners. The travois was attached to Josiah's horse and Nathan rode behind, his eyes trained on the frail figure of the sick man. He watched as each shallow breath barely inflated Chris's chest. He watched in trepidation, knowing that each new breath could be the last.

He jolted in surprise as Buck's cry broke the tense silence. "Rider coming up behind us."

They all turned to watch the single rider galloping hard in their direction.

"Could be Ezra or J.D.." Sanchez offered.

"There's only one of them and that could mean trouble." Wilmington's gut clenched as he dismounted and drew his weapon. Fear for his young friend flooded his body. He was only vaguely aware of the preacher joining him, weapon drawn and ready. Nathan stayed at Larabee's side, ready to defend the helpless man.

"Oh my God!" Josiah uttered in astonishment.

A huge grin lighting up his face, Buck lowered his gun and readied himself to greet the new arrival. "That ain't God, it's a Tanner!" With a whoop of pure joy, he ran to greet the American Lazarus.

Exhaustion and pain slammed into Vin and propelled him from the horse. It took him several seconds to realize who'd caught him. "Damn it...Buck...let go 'o me..." As he was released, the sharpshooter stumbled and would have fallen except for the steadying arms of Josiah and Nathan.

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Brother." Josiah supported the exhausted man.

"You hurt anywhere?" The strong brown hands gripped his shoulders and he ducked his head past the tall man. Tanner longed to see only one man and his beseeching eyes turned to the healer, the question plain to see.

"He's alive but it's bad." Nate answered the beguiling blue eyes.

The tracker sighed in relief and dogged Jackson's footsteps to the side of his best friend. He tried to hold back a gasp of alarm as he looked at the lifeless, fragile body of Chris Larabee. Dropping to his knees, he bit his lip as a knife-like pain jabbed his back. He reached out to brush a stray lock of sweaty hair off the torrid forehead.

"Damn Cowboy, I'm so sorry," he rasped. Interlacing his fingers with those of his friend, he raised their hands to rest against his cheek. He could feel the intense heat radiating from the fevered man. Tears sprang to his eyes, he could feel the life force ebbing from the body. "Don't go..."

Somewhere in the darkness that had taken over his mind, Chris heard the heartfelt plea. The voice belonged to the one he was searching for. He felt the flesh covering his hand, lending him the strength that was lacking. With newfound fortitude he fought to reach the bearer of the soul-fed medicine.

Nathan felt the pulse quicken and sensed the effort the Gunslinger was making. "Keep talking...Vin."

"C'mon Chris, ya ain't glared at me all day." Tightening his grip on the hand, he pleaded with the sick man. "Time fer some o'that special ditch water Nathan's got."

Eyelids parted and dull green eyes searched the distorted, blurry surroundings for the lifeline. They finally latched onto twin blue beacons and a hoarse whisper fought freedom from parched lips.

"V...in."

"It's me Chris , I'm here." The Texan grinned with relief, the expression mirrored on three other faces.

"I'll get a fire going. Looks like we need to get some of your 'ditch water' ready." Josiah laughed at the sour expression on Jackson's face as his healing herbs were once again insulted.

Buck passed a canteen of water to Vin before moving into position to support the wet blond head as he drank.

"Not...dead? Thought you were...dead. My ...f..fault."

" Yer sure as hell quick ta give up on a body. Ain't yer fault. Now drink before I have ta shoot ya."

Vin stayed by the Gunslinger's side as they managed to get some water and tea into him. Before long though, Chris's eyes began to slide shut as his reservoir of energy was depleted. Fearful blue eyes met lost brown ones over the pale figure below.

"Is he gonna make it?"

Jackson decided not to tell Vin about the amputation he feared was inevitable. The time to tell him would come soon enough and Chris needed him to be strong. "A couple of hours ago I didn't think he'd live through the night. He's fighting now thanks to you. It ain't much but it's more than we had before you came along."

"Let's git goin' then."

Nathan's observant eyes didn't miss the flash of agony in Vin's face, nor had he failed to notice signs of exhaustion. "Let me just take a quick look at you."

"Chris needs ya. I'm okay, jist a little headache." The Texan quickly mounted his horse before anyone could protest. Riding behind the travois so that Chris could see him if he woke up, Vin nudged forward.

"Damn fool." Nathan muttered as he climbed into the saddle and began the journey home again.

+ + + + + + +

Night was rapidly falling before the men halted to rest. Buck and Josiah set out to catch some game while Nathan gathered some wood to start a fire. Vin was gently wiping at Chris's fevered skin with a cool cloth as he ruminated on the miracle of finding his friend alive. It didn't take long for Nate to heat up some broth. He knelt beside the exhausted caregiver and saw a wistfullness in the red-rimmed blue eyes.

"Where you at, Vin?" He asked, lifting Chris's head. The blond's eyes were open and unfocused. He seemed to hear only Vin's voice.

"Go on and drink, Chris..." Vin said sharply, addressing the confused stare. The lips parted on instinct and Nate smiled again, getting the spoon inside.

He spoke in a soft soothing tone, reassuring the injured man of his presence. "I used t'do this fer my Ma when she took sick. I's jes' a little fella but there weren't no else ta do it. Ma used ta talk 'bout travelin' ta big cities she heard about. Before she died, she told me that she was goin' far away." Vin swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I's all curled up next ta her in bed and she told me all 'bout Heaven. "

Nathan's eyes were full of compassion as the Texan's wistful words reminded him of the painful loss of his own mother.

"I was real 'fraid and asked her not ta go." Vin continued "She told me she would always be with me. No matter if I went t'the four corners of earth, she would be at my side, an' I believed her. All them bad things happened t'me an' I tried t'remember she was with me."

Jackson nodded, remembering all the times he wished for the comforting touch of his mother's hand. "I know what you mean. What I wouldn't give to have just a few hours to talk to my Ma again. Just to tell her how much I miss her."

The sharpshooter looked into Jackson's face and saw his own pain mirrored in the dark eyes. "When I was all growed, I knew she just said them things t'make me feel better. One day I happened into Four Corners and I stayed put cause I figgered maybe this was the place she was talkin' 'bout. Then I seen ya and them drunks fixin' on hangin' ya. and next thing I know...I had me a family again. "

Nathan smiled as he thought about the day that this young man stepped forward to save his life. The gratitude he felt that day evolved into a deep bond he shared with these six men. Vin didn't open up and talk about his past very often and he felt a deepening kinship with the man.

"Your Ma must have been very special Vin." Standing, he gripped the Texan's shoulder before turning back to the fire to get some herbal tea.

"Ya know yer kin...yer a brother t'me Chris. I reckon this is what my Ma was talkin' bout." The ripping pain in his gut was real, as the frail body before him threatened to slip away...forever. "Please Chr..is, don't leave. I...don't want...t'be alone... again."

Vin freshened the cloth and continued his ministrations, reassured by the steady rise and fall of the blond's chest. Seeing Nathan approaching with a fresh mug of herbal tea, he scrubbed the evidence of tears away.

"I got to change this dressing. Figured we could try and get more tea in him." The healer paused to examine his patient before turning his attention to the wound.

"How's he doin' Nate?"

"He ain't changed in the five minutes since ya asked me last time, Vin." Nate said softly, catching the emotive stare, "Have some faith...he needs to feel your faith in him." He saw the shaggy head dip and the voice was much steadier as it addressed the lost soul. As Vin spoke, Nate went to work.

Working together they managed to change the dressing which elicited moans of pain from the flushed, wet face.

The cries of pain tore at Vin's soul and he questioned the healer. "Can't ya give him somethin' fer the pain?"

"He's too weak. It could kill him."

The restless tracker moved to reassure the patient "It's okay Chris. Nate's done."

"Hur...ts."

"I know Pard. Can ya take some of this tea?"

Chris drank a few sips before his stomach violently erupted, emptying its sparse contents. Hastily they turned him onto his side, the sharpshooter bearing most of the weight as he supported frail body. He bit back a moan as agony surged through his tortured back muscles.

Small breathless cries of torment issued from the blond as his own body was helpless against the onslaught of pain thrumming along every nerve.

"Put him on his back again."

Ignoring his body's own pleas for relief, he tenderly eased the sick man back. Grabbing a wet cloth he wiped the sweat covered features.

"Sarah?"

Vin looked to the healer, concern etched on his face. Were the specters of the past coming to claim the soul of their loved one?

"He's delirious with fever." Nate answered the question.

After a few moments Chris's eyes closed as he slipped back into a painless black void.

"We'll try some water when he wakes up again." Nathan clamped a reassuring hand on the Texan's shoulder before moving back towards the fire.

Don't leave me Chris!

Part 10

The men were eating a quick meal around the campfire. J.D. and Ezra caught up with them easily and the youngest was ebullient at the sight of the tracker alive and well. Chris lay sleeping but Vin kept a reassuring hand on his arm. His stomach did not rebel when he next regained consciousness and, with a little coaxing, they managed to get some water into him. The fatigue and worry was written all over their faces.

"You never did tell us what happened back there Vin." Buck remembered, seeing the bruises and damage done by the quiet man's captor.

The Texan warily eyed the faces that looked at him in expectation but, did not see the damnation that he expected. That would all change when he related the events that led up to the desperate situation they found themselves in.

Taking a deep breath, he told them about delivering the prisoner in Eden. Then he described how they were attacked and Chris was wounded. He paused as his mind went back to his decision to leave Chris and go for water. Maybe that was a mistake as well but he didn't know at the time that help was on the way. Nevertheless, his sense of guilt deepened.

"Then the body we found belonged to the guy you shot." J.D. surmised.

Vin nodded and continued his tale, describing how he was captured by the other bounty hunter and his subsequent escape. He decided not to tell them about the quarrel he and Chris had in Eden, or about the gruesome intentions of his captor.

Buck was still puzzled about something. "Why did you take a different trail back to town. If it wasn't for the tracking skills you taught the Kid, we might not have found Chris until it was too late."

The ladies man missed the grimace that crossed Vin's face. How could he explain his own cowardice? "I's jist thinkin' it would be faster."

Josiah sensed that the sharpshooter had said all he wanted to say and rose to his feet. "I think we better make tracks. " He didn't miss the look of gratitude from Tanner.

As Dunne moved past him, Vin stopped him. "Nice job J.D. Thanks."

The younger man was pleased by the praise and his step was a little lighter as he went to fetch the horses.

+ + + + + + +

The noonday sun was beating down as the peacekeepers spotted their destination in the distance. Chris was still holding on and had awakened twice during the night. Vin refused to leave his side and Nathan worried about both of them. At least the blond was able to take more fluids and there were no further episodes of vomiting. Knowing the gruesome task that lay ahead, Jackson announced his plans to ride ahead and ready the clinic.

Within an hour they arrived in front of the clinic. It was decided that it would take most of them to lift Chris up the stairs. With great caution, Josiah took his upper torso while J.D. and Buck each supported a leg. Ezra went ahead of them, clearing the stairs of any obstacles and opening the door to the clinic. Even with the care they took, Larabee cried out in pain as he was lifted. Moving as carefully as they could, they managed to maneuver the sick man up the steps and deposited the precious burden on the bed. Vin remained at the base of the stairs. His back was pounding with hot fury and every step was like a knife being shoved in the tender spot. It took him several minutes to get to the top, his face and body covered in sweat from the effort.

Within minutes Chris was stripped of his clothes and covered with a blanket. Semi-conscious, he continued to moan piteously. Nathan set to work quickly, exposing the injured leg and removing the dressing. The wound was red and angry looking but Jackson was surprised at the small amount of pus. The entire limb was swollen and blood flow to the lower portion seemed to be affected as it was cool to touch and paler than it should have been.

The men held their breath as they awaited a decision from the healer. Vin was still unaware of the dire dilemma they faced.

Finally Buck broke the silence. "Well Nate?"

"I don't see that we have a choice." The healer face was grim as he relayed the news.

"Damn." Buck's shoulder's slumped and all the air seemed to leave his body. This clear sign of defeat caught all of Vin's attention.

The tracker fixed his puzzled gaze on Jackson. "What choice?"

"Come with me, Vin." Sanchez tried to direct the Texan out of the room.

"I ain't leavin'. What choice?" The determined body looked at the resignation on the faces around him and refused to move without getting some answers.

"I didn't tell you Vin. Chris's leg...what's killin' him..." Nathan tried to break the news gently but was interrupted as Vin's dread grew.

"What the fuck are ya sayin'?"

"He saying that he has to take Chris's leg to save him." Wilmington spit out the words. Although resigned to the inevitable, he was still hoping things would work out differently.

As the words sunk in, horror overcame Tanner and he placed himself protectively at his friend's side. "No...ya can't. I ain't gonna let ya!"

"Vin, he's made it this far against all odds." Josiah stepped in to help the younger man understand. "He survived the trip back to town. None of us want to see this happen but are you asking us to let him die now?"

Stunned beyond words, a numb Tanner shook his head. Sanchez placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Chris is the strongest man I know and he's going to get through this. We have to give him a chance."

"I'm sorry Nate. Ya do what's best." The Texan felt tears rise at the thought of his friend going through the rest of his life with only one leg. He also knew that Nathan Jackson wouldn't make the decision unless there were no other option. Whatever happened, Chris would never have to deal with this alone. A silent promise was made. I'm not leaving you Cowboy. We'll get through this together.

"I'm going to need you guys to clear out except for Josiah."

Vin opened his mouth to protest but then closed it as he saw the determined look on the healer's face. His eyes were awash with tears as he looked at Larabee's debilitated face. Hands took him by the arm and guided him out of the room but his gaze never left the precious visage.

+ + + + + + +

"Josiah, I want you to give him a little ether. If he shows any signs of waking up then give him a bit more."

Sanchez did as he was instructed. Putting a few drops onto a cloth, he held it over Chris's nose and mouth until he saw the features relax. Except for the pale skin and gaunt cheeks the man looked like he was merely sleeping. He turned to watch as Nathan picked up a scalpel. They had cleared off the table inside the clinic and cleaned it as best they could. Larabee's prone body lay upon it now.

Seeing Jackson hesitate, the preacher sought to reassure him. "It wasn't your decision, you're saving his life."

Nodding, Nathan took a deep breath and pressed the scalpel to the wound. Several minutes later, layers of skin and muscle were dissected and he could see the bone. Somehow through that long torturous trip the bones stayed in alignment and were even now starting to knit together. He was still puzzled however, at the small amount of pus around the injury. It was also very curious that the surrounding tissue appeared healthy. Exploring the tissue of the medial side of the bones, he searched for the femoral artery. He would need to tie off that major blood vessel first. If it were cut accidentally Chris would bleed to death within minutes. His probing fingers encountered a round object near the area of the artery. Handing a clamp to Sanchez he instructed him to use it to pull back the tissue to allow a better look at the area. With a better field of view, Nathan bent forward to get a closer look at the mysterious object.

"Oh my God!"

+ + + + + + +

Although everybody thirsted for a nice long beer, no one wanted to leave the landing outside the clinic. Ezra watched Tanner closely, deeply concerned about the pain and fatigue he saw etched into the features.

" ...damn...." Guilt was weighing heavily on the tracker. "...s'all m'fault..."

"You're right Vin, it is all your fault." J.D. and Ezra turned horrified eyes on the ladies man.

"Mr. Wilmington, surely you're not blaming..."

"What I'm saying Vin, is that it's your fault we even have Chris Larabee with us today." Ignoring the puzzled glares, Wilmington settled himself on the stair next to the tracker. "If it weren't for you, that walking shell that called himself Chris Larabee would have drowned himself in a bottle a long time ago. I don't know how you did it but you gave him life again. You gave me back my old friend. I wouldn't trade the last two years for a twenty years of watching him die a slow death. Thank you Vin. Thank you for my friend."

Tanner looked at the hand stretched out and grasped it firmly. Lost for words, his blue eyes revealed his feelings.

"Why Mr. Dunne, is that a tear I detected running down your cheek?"

"Cut it out Ez. I got some dust in my eye."

Grinning at the antics of their friends, Buck and Vin settled in side by side for the long wait.

+ + + + + + +

It was two hours before the door opened and a grim faced Sanchez appeared. They held their breath, dreading the news. Josiah's face was haggard and gave them no hope as to what transpired within the clinic. Suddenly the craggy face split into a grin. Relieved that his expression revealed that Chris was alive, they were puzzled as to why the preacher was smiling.

"Well Brothers, it seems that God has seen fit to grant us another miracle. Our leader is still with us and with the Lord's grace, will be walking on his own two feet again."

Scrambling to their feet, the four men rushed the entrance, eager to discover what had happened. Standing inside the door, they could see that Chris still lay on the makeshift operating table. To their astonishment though, he was intact, his right leg exactly where it should have been.

Buck was the first to find his voice. "What happened? I thought..."

Nathan felt fatigue gnawing at his bones but patiently explained the surgery. "When I got in there, I discovered an abscess lying real close to the artery."

"What is an ab..ab...whatever?" Vin asked.

"It's a pocket of infection. That's why there wasn't a whole lot of pus in the wound the last day or so. Something like that gets walled up and can't drain. I've opened it up and cleaned it out. The swelling was cutting off the blood flow to his lower leg so I opened up an incision the length of it to allow for proper circulation."

Vin didn't totally understand but he knew what was important. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"He survived the surgery but he's even weaker now. If I can't get the fever down soon, it won't matter how many legs he has."

"Then we have some work to do." Buck stated, more determined than ever.

Under the direction of Jackson, the blond was moved from the table back to the bed by strong hands. Nathan insisted that everyone get a good meal but Vin refused, staying by his friend, wiping his body down with cool water. Chris lay motionless under his ministrations. If anything, he was even paler than before and heat radiated from his skin. But at least he was alive and that knowledge lent strength to his six friends.

Part 11

"Why don't you get some rest Vin? Chris is going to need you to be strong." The obvious signs of fatigue on the young man's face concerned Nate.

"I'm okay." Vin Tanner was used to hiding signs of weakness, but the torment in his back was getting worse. Once he knew that Larabee was out of the woods he would have plenty of time to rest. He couldn't resist the thought of Jackson's healing lotion though. "My back's a mite sore. Ya got any of that liniment?"

"Let me take a look at your back." Nate frowned, knowing Vin's definition of 'mite' meant he was in agony.

"It ain't any worse than it's been b'fore."

With a dubious glance at the exhausted face, the weary bonesetter retrieved a bottle of the soothing potion. "If this don't help, you let me know."

"'kay. I gotta use the outhouse anyhow." The sharpshooter rose to his feet, barely managing to bite back a cry of agony. He moved to the door, concentrating on walking with his usual ease. Once he was on the landing and the door was shut, he leaned on the railing, harsh gasps tearing from his lungs.

If he thought going up the stairs was hard, descending was a hundred times worse. It took several painful minutes to reach the ground. Thankful that no one came along and found him in this condition, he leaned against the side of the building and tried to control his breathing. Grateful for the support the wall provided he moved down the alley. Reaching the outhouse, he was dismayed to find it occupied. His bladder burned with the urgency for release. He didn't have the luxury of waiting so he returned to the darkness of the alley. Full of shame and praying he would not be discovered, he urinated on the ground. With dismay he saw that his urine was once again a crimson color. Fastening his pants, he started towards the covered wagon he called home to apply the healing salve.

Exiting the outhouse, Buck spotted the Texan's figure disappear around the corner. Running to catch up to him, Wilmington came to an abrupt stop as he spotted a dark circle on the ground. Bending close, he lit a match to illuminate the area. The faint scent of urine met his nostrils as his eyes absorbed the sight of the red stained ground. He thought back to the little signs they missed as Tanner attempted to hide the injury. The grimaces as he mounted his horse, the stiffness of his usual graceful movement.

"Damn!' He hissed. They were so concerned about Chris that they ignored what was right in front of them. He rose to his feet and moved swiftly to determine the tracker's whereabouts. Glancing at the empty stairs to the clinic, he decided the only other place that Vin would go to was his wagon.

Catching sight of his quarry as he approached the makeshift residence, Wilmington stormed forward to confront Vin.

"You gonna tell Nathan or am I?"

"What the hell ya talkin 'bout?"

"I'm talkin about the pool of bloody piss you left in the alley!"

"Mind yer own fuckin' business Buck."

Frustrated by the resistance he was facing, the rogue placed his hands on his hips. "Look Vin, you think Chris would like you to sacrifice your life for his?"

"Bucklin, there ain't nothin'...."

Wilmington interrupted before he was finished. "No Vin. I ain't gonna let you do this."

Seeing the determined look on Buck's face, Vin nodded. "Yer right. It's my back. Tussled with that gang when we took 'em...been givin' me fits ever since."

"Then we'll go let Nathan take a look at you."

"I done got somethin' from Nate." He produced the small bottle of liniment for Buck to look at. "He said it should help."

"Nathan knows about your back?" Wilmington looked suspiciously at Tanner.

"Yup. I gotta use this stuff an' I can't do any riding fer awhile." The Texan only hoped that Wilmington would forgive this little lie. He knew the healer would dose him up with some Laudanum. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Chris while he was sleeping under the effects of the medication.

Buck made a mental note to check with Jackson when he got back to the clinic. In the meantime he would take Vin's word. "Okay, but me and you are going to have a little chat about this with Nate. I'm going over to the saloon to grab some dinner. You coming?"

"I'm gonna get this lotion on and then head back ta check on Chris."

"I'll bring some grub up to the clinic for you and Nathan."

"Thanks."

With a last long look, Wilmington turned and started towards the saloon. He dreaded how he would react when he found out the truth. The only thing that mattered right now was his best friend. He could face anything as long as he was okay. Hiding in the darkness, he began applying the liniment.

+ + + + + + +

Several hours later, Nathan was preparing another batch of willow bark tea. He knew the night would be a long and arduous one and fought back the weariness that threatened to overtake him.

Despite their efforts, the fever that gripped Chris was not abating. He had yet to wake up although he was moaning occasionally. The only intelligible sound he made was to call out for Vin. The gentle soul was always there murmuring words of comfort. He maintained physical contact, usually holding the blond's lax hand or wiping his fevered brow. The sound of his friend's voice was the only thing that calmed him.

The Texan was desperately trying to cool the heated flesh when he noticed Larabee getting agitated. His head began to thrash frantically on the pillow and his jaw clenched shut tightly. Becoming alarmed, Vin called for the healer's attention. "Nate!"

The blond's whole body began to tremble. Then his muscles started a jerking motion, the limbs moving in a macabre imitation of a marionette's puppet. As his back arched off the bed, Vin fought to restrain him.

"Just keep him on the bed." The healer moved to assist the Texan.

The convulsive movements became more violent, Larabee's face turning a dusky hue from the lack of oxygen. Frantic to keep the gunslinger on the bed, Nathan and Vin held his torso. A flailing arm caught the tracker off guard and he was flung against the wall. Screaming in agony as his back impacted with the obstacle, he slumped to the floor. He watched helplessly as the spasms became less violent and Chris slumped back into the bed, his muscles twitching. Finally he was still. Too still.

"He's not breathing!"

Vin heard Jackson's words and, fighting back the pain, struggled to the bedside. Sweeping the taller man aside, the Texan grabbed onto the lifeless form and began to shake it. Blue fury shot from his pained eyes and he slapped the unresponsive man several times, hoping to rouse him.

"CHRIS...breath damn it! Ya ain't gonna die!"

J.D. was at the top of the stairs and, hearing the commotion, burst through the door. The tray of coffee dropped from his hands as his eyes watched the sharpshooter's desperate attempts to will Larabee back to life. Panicked, he fled the clinic to summon help.

Nathan heard the faint gasp and watched with amazement as the blond's chest rose. He realized that Vin was continuing to shake the man, unaware that he was breathing again.

"Vin, let go. You did it... he's breathing. VIN!"

The words permeated the haze surrounding the stuporous body and he stopped his movements. Relief washed through him as he too noticed the shallow movement of Chris's chest.

"Christ..." Vin swept a shaky hand across his face, "I thought we lost ..."

Jackson saw the dazed look on the Texan's pale face seconds before his eyes rolled up and he crumpled bonelessly to the floor.

+ + + + + + +

"Vin!" Nate hollered, bending and touching a hand to the tracker's throat. He was relieved at the rapid but steady pulse he felt. He looked up as Josiah, Buck and Ezra burst through the door. He shouted orders, ignoring their voices clamoring for an explanation. "Josiah, get Vin on the extra cot and have a quick look at him for me. The fever caused Chris to have a fit. Ezra, I need you to go and find all the ice you can. We have to get this fever down quick."

Standish turned to carry out his job and saw a trembling J.D. in the doorway. "Come Mr. Dunne, your assistance will be invaluable." He knew keeping the kid busy would help to dispel some of the nervous energy.

Sanchez bent and gathered the body of the tracker in his arms, his strength able to cope with the weight of the slight body easily. After gently placing Tanner on the bed, he and Buck started to remove the many layers of clothing that covered the slight frame. Wilmington turned to place the hide coat over a chair, remembering the joy Vin expressed when they were able to return the precious belonging to him yesterday. Once he was stripped to the waist, Josiah started looking for wounds. Bruises marred his left side but his ribs felt intact.

"Turn him towards you Buck, so I can get a look at his back."

Before the Texan was fully on his side, the preacher got a glimpse of his back and couldn't fight back a gasp. Vin's lower back was a mass of deep bruising. The myriad of purples and blues were streaked with shots of crimson.

"JESUS!" Buck hissed, his face wrinkled in horror.

"Nate, you better come have a look here." Josiah's deep voice didn't hide his concern.

The brown-eyed man was busily placing cool cloths over Larabee's body in an effort to control the raging fever. "Buck get over here. Just keep changing the compresses so he's kept as cold as possible until Ez gets back with the ice."

Seeing that Buck understood the instructions, he made his way over to the other cot. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of the injury that Vin managed to hide. It was quite a feat that the man had stayed in the saddle, let alone move with the agony his back must have caused.

Buck paused and Nate saw something he didn't like flickering in the rogue's eyes.

"Buck..." his voice was low and threatening, as the skilled dark fingers gently examined the slight body in the bed.

"Aw, hell, Nate," Buck's shoulder's slumped, "he said you knew...you gave him liniment..."

"Spit it out, Buck!" Nate barked, he had no time to waste on Buck's feelings.

"He passed blood...down in the alley," Buck sighed, raking his hand through his dark hair.

"How long ago?"

"Back before he napped..." Buck winced at the dark expression on Nate's face. "Honest to God Nate, I'm sorry. He told me you knew about his back...Hell, I wouldn't hurt that boy..."

"It ain't your fault. You know how Vin hates anyone fussing over him. Damn stubborn fool." The healer was palpating the bruised back, carefully checking for collections of fluid under the skin. Remembering that the tracker mentioned a headache, he turned to examine his head and found a large bump on the back of it. He completed his assessment, relieved at not finding any broken bones.

"How is he?" Wilmington anxiously queried.

"Got a bump on his head, probably a slight concussion. It's his back I'm worried about. I'm going to make up a poultice and that should help some." He rubbed his neck and looked at Josiah, "See if you can scare up a towel, there's some hot water on the stove. A hot compress will help his back some."

"What about the blood in his urine?" Sanchez asked, the worry evident in his voice.

"Hopefully his kidneys will heal with time."

"And if they don't?" Buck paused to look at Nathan.

"Ain't nothing I can do." Nate didn't miss the blanching of the tall man's face, "It's probably just a bruise...if a kidney was tore up...well, I think he'd be a lot worse off."

Wilmington looked down at his oldest friend and shook his head. How would they survive if they lost both of them? His passing look to the Texan hadn't stopped his hands from wiping Chris's fevered brow.

Part 12

Chris felt his body floating, the sensation was oddly pleasant. He waited for the return of the searing pain that pervaded his every waking moment and was surprised when it failed to materialize. His eyes opened to an unfamiliar world full of brightness. A feeling of peace swept through him, fear of what he was experiencing was absent. It was then that he noticed a figure of an ethereal woman beside him.

"Sarah?" Larabee's voice was full of hope as he tried to identify the figure.

"No, but she's not very far away Chris." The voice was soft and gentle.

"Can I see her? I miss Sarah and Adam so much" The thought of the joyous reunion brought tears to his eyes. The only doubt in his mind was the blue orbs gazing at him. He imagined the grief that would dull the expressive blue eyes of his best friend.

"They're so proud of you. You're a lucky man."

Seeing the familiar blue eyes he suddenly knew who this woman was. "You're Vin's Ma."

"That's right." The beatific smile on her face was dazzling.

"Am I dead?" He still felt no fear, only curiosity.

She whispered the reply gently, a hint of sadness tinted her words. "Not yet."

"I'm dying though." Chris felt a pang of grief for the friends he would leave behind.

"It's up to you now. I've come to ask you to fight for your life. Vin needs you. My son needs you so much Chris." Tears glistened like diamonds as they fell. "He has suffered alone for too long. You share a special bond and he finally has a family again. You are the only brother he will ever know."

"Ya know yer kin...yer a brother t'me Chris. Please Chr..is, don't leave. I...don't want...t'be alone... again."

The blond made his choice as he recalled the words his friend had spoken to him. "Will you tell Sarah and Adam that I love them?"

"They know that, they always have. Your brief years together contained a whole lifetime of love and you will share eternity with them some day. I promise you that" The woman's face glowed with the affection she felt for this man. That he would fight through the agony of his injuries for her son spoke well for the respect Vin had won. "Tell Vin....tell my son that I'm proud of the man he's become."

Feeling his eyelids grow heavy, Larabee let them slide shut. His last sensation was that of a velvet soft touch of healing on his forehead.

Buck watched Nate and Josiah tending to Vin and bit his lip. What if those hours that he wasted, not telling Nate, made the difference? He moved to wring out another wet cloth and took his gaze to the Texan. What he didn't see, were the leader's green eyes open a crack and the bloodless lip trembling. What Buck couldn't see, was that in a brief instant of lucidity, Chris's mind registered the plight of the younger man.

Despite the burning agony in his leg and the pounding in his head, the blond tried hard to capture Nate's words. His torched skin rebelled and pain overtook his moments of awareness. But not before he saw the horrific sight of Vin Tanner's back and heard the words. Blood...urine...kidneys...might heal...ain't nothing I can do...nothing I can do...nothing I can do. That thought, that Vin might die and why hadn't he seen Vin's suffering? It was too painful to bear. Nate's words sent him back into the black velvet void, where he couldn't see those blue eyes haunting him.

I'm sorry, Vin. I should have seen it...I pushed you too hard...too far...I hurt you..." he blamed himself silently as his eyes slid shut.

+ + + + + + +

Several hours later Vin woke up to find himself laying facedown on the spare cot in the clinic. His mind sought to recollect what transpired to lead him to this situation. With frightening clarity, he remembered his friend having a fit and then not breathing.

"Chris!" He shouted and then made an effort to rise. He was stopped by the terrible pain that lanced through his back and a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Relax Mr. Tanner. Our illustrious leader is still with us."

"He's alive?"

"Turn your head and you'll be able to see him." Standish instructed

Vin swiveled his gaze and saw the blond lying on the bed, his body surrounded by chunks of ice. Nathan was hovering over his patient checking the dressing.

Tanner almost cried with the relief of discovering his friend was still alive. He eyed the conman and made a subtle move with his legs, his need to reach out to his injured friend overcoming his own pain.

"I will not be a party to murder." At Vin's confused look the southerner continued to explain. "Mr. Wilmington left strict orders as to what I was to do if you tried to get out of bed. I believe his exact words were 'shoot him in the ass if you have to'"

Hearing the conversation, the healer moved over to examine his reluctant patient. "How long were you pissing blood Vin?"

The younger man was concerned only for Larabee's well being. "How's Chris?"

Jackson sighed with exasperation, not feeling the energy to argue and began to berate the Texan. "Don't you even try it. I got enough to deal with and you go and make the situation even worse. How long?"

"Since before we left Eden. But it's gettin' better... Nate?" The tracker was still waiting for an answer to his question.

"Stubborn mule-headed jackass!" Nathan cursed as he moved towards the stove to retrieve a cup. "Make sure that he drinks all of this. Chris still has a high fever but he hasn't had any more fits"

Ezra took the cup and screwed his face up at the vile scent arising from it. "I think our healer has made a nice strong cup of your favorite drink."

"I ain't drinkin' any o' that horse piss" Vin wrinkled his face in distaste.

"Shoot him Ez." Buck entered the clinic just in time to hear the refusal.

"In which cheek would you like the bullet placed?" The gambler drew his revolver and studied the fancy pearl handle.

"Al' right. Gimme the fuckin' cup."

The amused looks on the faces of his friends were almost too much to bear as Vin choked down the vile brew.

The ladies man walked over to Chris's bedside and stared at the pale inanimate face. His old friend could display a real mean temper at times but he would gladly trade that for this lifeless appearance. Since the seizure the sick man had not moved a muscle. His breathing was shallow and his pulse was thready. The healer didn't say it but they instinctively knew that Chris very near death.

"Any change?" Buck realized what the answer would be but had to ask anyway.

Jackson merely looked up with him and shook his head. Seeing the drained look on the other man's face, Wilmington offered to take over.

"Go get some grub and some rest. I can take care of him and this scrawny Texas mule over here." Vin frowned at the term used to refer to him.

Knowing that his patient was in capable hands, the former army medic agreed and left the clinic. He would be summoned if he were needed.

Sitting in the chair next to the bed, Buck turned to look the drawn face of Vin Tanner. "You ignored your own injury 'cause of Chris, didn't you?"

"He needed me, Buck." The voice was soft and raspy, a combination of medicine and fear.

"When he finds out what you did, he's going to be pretty angry!" The ladies man knew that Tanner was in for a verbal blast from their leader

"I would recommend you to evacuate the premises when Mr. Larabee returns to his usual robust health." Having been on the receiving end of the ire, Ezra was willing to give out advice.

"God willin' he can yell as loud as he likes at me." The soft plea was sent heavenward as Vin settled in to watch over his friend.

+ + + + + + +

As the new day began to dispel the darkness, Nathan returned to the clinic. He was feeling much better for the four hours of sleep he was able to get.

Buck was still seated beside his friend but his head drooped forward as he dozed.

Josiah was by the stove preparing more herbal tea and greeted the healer. "Morning Brother."

"Hey Josiah. Any problems while I was gone?"

"Chris hasn't moved or shown any signs of waking up." The preacher's face was grim with the lack of good news.

"And Vin?"

The large man grinned as he remembered the curses Tanner let loose whenever they forced a cup of healing tea down his throat. "Stubborn as usual but we managed."

Shaking his head Jackson moved to examine Chris. "Buck, wake up."

"Wha..t?" The ladies man was a little groggy.

"I got to look at Chris. Why don't you go get us all a coffee." The healer suggested.

"Sounds good ta me."

The three men glanced at the cot where the tracker lay. He was awake and eager for a cup of his favorite brew.

"Give it up Tanner. I'm still tempted to shoot you." Buck knew without asking that coffee would not be allowed in Vin's diet for a while.

After a quick grin directed at Wilmington, Nathan bent to examine Chris. His urgent words stopped Wilmington as he prepared to leave. "How long has he been like this?"

Buck turned, his mind filled with alarm and confusion. The healer was pressing the back of his hand to the blond's face and neck. Reaching the dressing on Larabee's leg, he rapidly removed the dressing to assess the wound.

"Nate, what's wrong. He ain't..." Wilmington panicked words faltered as he registered the smile that lit Jackson's face. "Nate?"

"Fever is down. The swelling and redness around the wound is better." The words were conveyed with a mixture of joy and relief.

"He gonna be okay?" Vin held his breath as he waited for the answer.

Nathan didn't want to give them any false hope but the signs of improvement were unmistakable. "I'm not sure how or why but I think he will be."

The whoop of joy from Wilmington expressed all the emotions they were experiencing. Realizing how loud he was, the contrite man began to apologize. "Sorry Nate. Didn't mean to be so loud."

"That's okay Buck. Look, I think Chris heard you." The healer's attention was riveted on the pale, thin face. He could see Chris's eyes moving under the lids. The lips were barely moving, but it appeared that he was trying to say something.

As Wilmington moved back to Chris's side, Vin struggled to rise. Josiah placed a restraining arm on his shoulder to keep him in bed. In the meantime, Nathan waited while Buck placed his ear next to Chris's lips. After a minute, he straightened and looked in Tanner's direction. "He's saying your name."

"Preacher, ya best git outta m'way..." Vin hissed, eyes fired with determination, "Don't...make..me...move...ya..."

The big man's warm grin at the smaller man's dogged determination, fueled his decision. He waited for the nod from the healer before offering his assistance. Battling the flaring agony, Vin leaned heavily on the preacher's arm as he struggled to his friend's side. He was eased into the chair and leaned in close, his hand closing around Chris's.

" Chris...Chris...wake the hell up. I ain't got all day..."

Chris was lost, his eyes searched the inky blackness around him. His soul was stabbed with fear as he wondered where he was. Where were his friends? Where was Vin? He started shouting the precious name, not realizing that his effort was only producing a barely audible whisper. Then he heard the voice he was searching for and clung to the hope that it produced. He fought the current of despair that tried to prevent him from reaching the source of the beloved sound.

"C'mon Chris, ya can do it." There was the sound again and he doubled his efforts. The blackness was fading to gray and he could feel warm flesh on his hand, pulling him to safety. The fog parted and he looked at the hazy figures hovering over him. His eyes blinked desperately, he was searching for a particular face, a pair of blue eyes.

Vin blinked back the tears as Larabee finally got his eyes open. He was obviously having trouble focusing and his gaze roved around the room. " Hey, Cowboy...."

Chris felt a cool cloth run over his face that helped to clear the grit from around his eyes. Finally, he found the blue orbs he sought and latched onto them like a lifeline. "V...V....Vin..."

Part 13

The tracker squeezed his hand and rested his hand on the nearest sweat-streaked shoulder with the other. "Ain't goin' nowhere." He heard Buck excitedly telling the others that he was going to tell JD and Ezra that the ill man was awake.

"C...old." Larabee senses were starting to resurface and he couldn't understand why his friends wouldn't at least cover him with a blanket.

"Let's get him outta that ice." Nathan's mind went back to caring for the wounded man. He had to make good use of the time that the blond was awake. "Josiah, if you take his head and chest, I'll support his leg and we'll move him over to the cot while I change these sheets."

Chris moaned as he was lifted, the pain in his head and leg throbbed without mercy. "Hold on Chris." Vin's reassuring voice became his center of concentration as the younger man continued to murmur soft reassurances.

Footsteps pounding up the stairs announced the arrival of the other men. J.D. bounced through the door, energized by the good news. Buck and Ezra followed, big grins pasted on their faces.

Jackson would have sent them away except he realized they needed to see Chris and he needed the extra help they could provide. The men bustled around the room carrying out Nathan's orders. There were many near collisions and accidents, as eyes were reluctant to leave the welcome sight of their awake leader. While his bed was stripped and re-made, Tanner spooned broth into the recovering man. Obediently, the blond opened his mouth and accepted each mouthful, his gaze never leaving the face he fought so hard to find.

Before they moved him back to the freshly made bed, Nathan dosed him with some Laudanum. Despite the painkiller, the maneuver caused pain to swell and break like waves over Chris's body. Once he was in the bed, Vin sponged the sweat from him and spoke in soothing tones while the harsh gasps wracked the frail body. Soon, the medicine had the desired effect and the blond fought back the return to the dark void.

Vin saw the struggle and reassured his friend. "I ain't goin' ta leave ya Chris." The leader felt the warm grip of his friend's hand and knew he had nothing to fear. This time the darkness held only healing and he succumbed to its lure.

Tears hung in the younger man's eyes as he watched his friend slip into sleep. He sent silent words of thanks to God for sparing his life. Then he felt a hand grip his shoulder.

Now that Larabee was taken care of, it was time for the healer to attend to his other patient. He braced himself for a fight. "Vin, time for you to go back to bed." He realized the man was in great pain at the lack of resistance he displayed.

Tanner allowed himself to be assisted back to the cot. Looking at the dose of Laudanum that was held in front of him, Vin looked into the compassionate eyes of the healer, seeking a promise. "Ya wake me if he comes to?"

The bargain sealed, the Texan was medicated and settled into the beckoning comfort of the mattress. Tearing razors of pain in his back started to ease and he sighed as a warm compress was applied. His last view was of the silly smiles of his friends and he welcomed sleep with a light heart.

+ + + + + + +

Chris did not awaken again that day but Nathan was pleased with the progress he felt his patient was making. His temperature was almost normal and a hint of color was back in his cheeks. The wound looked clean and the flesh was pink, evidence that the healing was progressing.

Vin was worried that his friend had not regained consciousness. "Why isn't he awake?"

The healer finished changing the dressing and began rinsing his hands with water. "He's still weak and likely to sleep a lot. Stop fretting and finish up that tea."

Tanner opened his mouth to argue but stopped at the determined glare he saw in the deep brown eyes. With a grimace he swallowed the rest of the ghastly brew. He looked up at the noisy entrance of J.D. and Buck.

"Brought you some dinner Nate. Inez cooked you a nice steak with lots of fluffy mashed potatoes and creamy gravy." Wilmington looked at the hungry expression on the tracker's face and smiled. "She didn't forget you Vin. Got a nice big bowl of soup and some fresh bread for you."

"Aw fuck." Tanner knew the guys were mad at him for hiding his injury but even a condemned man deserved a decent meal.

J.D. couldn't stand the crestfallen look on the older man's face and let the cat out of the bag. "We brought you a nice big piece of peach pie."

Buck scowled at his traitorous friend. He was planning on having some fun with this. "That is, if you finish your dinner before I get hungry...Sure do love peach pie..."

"I have ta use the privy first." Vin prepared to rise.

"Oh no. You're not peeing anywhere I can't see for awhile." Jackson moved swiftly to take an authoritative stance in front of the young man. He had to watch for blood in the urine.

"Aw shit Nathan, I know dead men that got treated better 'an this." His friends laughed at the expression of disgust from the sharpshooter. " ...glad ya'll are findin' this so damn funny."

The men turned their backs to give Vin some privacy as Jackson helped him answer the call of nature.

Before long, Ezra and Josiah joined their friends and they passed the evening talking and playing cards. The little clinic resounded with the sounds of talking and laughter. The pall of grief that hung over them all had been lifted and they were content to pass the time together. Vin lay and studied the features of the man who was like a brother. He and Chris had some talking to do but at least they were given the gift of time.

+ + + + + + +

The night passed uneventfully and Chris showed signs of waking early the next morning. Pain slammed into him and he gasped at the sudden onslaught. Josiah was at his side in an instant. Nathan decided to bed down on the floor of the clinic and was finally sleeping. The preacher reached for the Laudanum, trying to soothe Larabee with softly spoken reassurances. Sweat broke out on the younger man's face and harsh gasps tore from laboring lungs. Chris's mind scrambled to understand what was happening but the agony in his leg prevented logical thought. His hands pushed the glass containing the medication away, not comprehending the relief it represented.

Suddenly Sanchez found Vin at his side. The tracker was roused from sleep by his friend's distress and managed to make the short journey from his bed without the preacher noticing. He watched as the tracker's touch and voice calmed the patient.

"Quit yer fussin'!" Vin growled, eyes riveted to the pale blond's face. "Ya think yer the only one who needs sleep! Settle yer bones down...ain't like I got any plans..."

The blond heard the familiar voice and he used its strength to battle through the pain. Gradually the agony began to fade and he looked gratefully into the face of the man who was a brother to him.

"Want some water Chris?" Vin could see that the gunslinger was trying to speak and knew he needed some moisture in his mouth. Josiah passed him a glass of water before moving to support the blond's head while he drank. It took several minutes but he managed to get the liquid down. As his head was lowered, he felt a cool cloth mop the sweat from his body and sent a silent thank you to his best friend.

"Vin, your ...back. I...I should have known....sorry." Guilt was laced through the older man's words.

"Ain't yer fault, s'all my doin.'" Vin relayed, realizing he should have said something.

A look passed between the men and they acknowledged that they both had some talking and healing to do.

"How's...back?" Larabee could feel sleep tugging at him again but wanted to reassure himself that Vin would be okay. He saw Vin shrug as if to pass it off, "Vin..." he warned, eyes narrowing. The younger man's face wrinkled up, giving his friend a smile.

"...back's comin' along okay...m'belly thinks m'throats been cut...it's full o'ditch water."

The look of revulsion on the tracker's visage was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him again. Tanner wanted to stay at his friend's side but a snarl from the corner sent him scuttling back to bed.

"Get your ass back into bed before I decide you need a double dose of 'ditch water'" Nathan was awake through the whole exchange but opted to let Josiah and Vin handle the situation.

Josiah's hearty laughter would normally embarrass Tanner, but he settled back into the blankets with a grin.

+ + + + + + +

In the afternoon Nathan decided the swelling was subsiding and that he could stitch the incision that ran the length of Chris's lower leg. He hesitated to cause the man more pain but was reluctant to leave it, as the risk of infection was too high. The healer knew Vin would insist on sitting by his friend's side and also realized Chris needed the comfort, so he set up a chair by the head of the bed. After preparing his patient with a dose of Laudanum, he recruited Buck and Josiah to help hold the man down. Even with the painkiller, he acknowledged that this would be a long painful procedure for the gunslinger.

He began by cleaning the area with carbolic, trying to ignore the tensing of muscles under his hand as the first flames of fiery pain flared into life. Tanner tightened the grip he had on the blond's arm and spoke soft reassuring words to him. Focusing his gaze on Vin's face, Chris tried to block out the pain.

Jackson began his precise stitching just below the knee first, pulling the edges of the skin together. Larabee's leg jumped involuntarily and he moaned as Josiah gripped his injured leg tighter.

"Sorry Chris." The preacher hated to see the face taut with pain, knowing he was partly to blame.

"S'okay." The blond bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.

"Hey pard, did I tell you about the new saloon girl?" Buck began an enthusiastic description of the young woman's assets to distract his friend.

Before Wilmington could finish his oration about how the new female was irresistibly attracted to his charms, Jackson finished sewing. He wrapped a dressing around the leg and replaced the splints. "I'm done." He pronounced with relief.

Vin wiped the sweat from Chris's face and watched as the features gradually relaxed. Within minutes the blond was sleeping, exhausted by the agony he endured. There would be many more painful days ahead like this as the older man recovered. At least they would see them through together.

"Hey, I wasn't finished my story." Wilmington whined as his captive audience was freed.

"...heard tell with ole' Bucklin it's always all talk...no action..." The Texan sent the rogue a saucy wink.

Buck's face was a mask of mock-indignation. "That's cause I'm all worn out trying to take care of all these women. Have to make up for the rest of you sorry lot."

Tanner was unable to bite back a laugh as Buck waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Part 14

As the days passed, Chris continued to improve. The fever that plagued him disappeared and he was awake for longer periods of time. His friends others were more than willing to pass a few hours with the man that they came so close to losing and tried to provide entertainment during these hours. Larabee's strength continued to grow and within a week he was able to sit in a chair for short intervals with his broken leg supported. Pain still dogged him but he was requiring less Laudanum each day.

Nathan was pleased with the progress Vin was making and allowed him to leave the clinic, although he wasn't permitted to ride his horse yet. The bruising across his back was fading and the blood in his urine disappeared after the first three days.

As usual, Tanner was starting to feel restless and bristled at being confined to town. He spent many hours sitting with the gunslinger but their once comfortable silence was marred by unspoken words.

Buck noticed the tension in the air and mentioned it to Josiah as they approached the clinic. They were on their way to give Larabee the crutches they fashioned for him.

"There's something bothering Chris and Vin."

Sanchez nodded in agreement as he too had noticed the unease between the two. "I'd say that something happened out there between them."

"Maybe we should talk to Vin." The younger man suggested.

Josiah placed a hand on the other man's arm to halt him. "Maybe it's none of our business."

"It'll be our business if one of them decides to leave."

"Neither one of them has said anything about leaving. Those two have a special bond and when it comes time, they'll work it out." The preacher knew that Vin would not respond to a confrontational approach. "All they need is some time."

Wilmington wished he could agree with the other man but shook his head as he agreed to let it rest. "I'll wait then. I just hope you're right."

The two continued on to the clinic, confident that Chris would be pleased with the additional mobility the crutches would provide.

+ + + + + + +

Within the next two days Chris mastered the use of the crutches and was able to hobble around the clinic. Jackson promised that he would assist him down the stairs in the morning so he could walk around the town a bit. The blond was obedient in following Jackson's orders. He was surprised how quickly he became tired and realized he still needed lots of rest in order to heal.

Tanner was chafing at the bit though and needed some solitude to reflect on the events of the last few weeks. He made a decision and announced it that night in the saloon. Chris was asleep in the clinic and the six men were finishing dinner.

"I'm ridin' out tomorrow." He announced in a determined tone.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea Vin. If something happens to you..." Wilmington's argument was cut off before he could finish.

"Ain't nothin' gonna happen. I can take care o' myself." The tracker stood firm and the others knew there wasn't anything they could say to change his mind.

Buck chuffed in frustration before standing to leave. "I'm going to check on Chris. At least he wants my company."

Tanner felt stung by the cruel words but understood Wilmington's concern for his oldest friend. He was sure that the ladies man felt he should be staying at Larabee's side. Ezra excused himself to join in a poker game while J.D. and Nathan made their way over to the clinic. Each of them patted the tracker's shoulder in support as they passed.

"Don't mind Buck." Sanchez comforted. "He's still concerned about Chris."

"I don't want ta leave 'im." The sadness in the blue eyes was evidence of Vin's feelings.

Josiah came up with a plan. "Why don't you go out and stay at Chris' place. No one's been near. You can have the quiet you need and clean it up a bit."

"Larabee ain't much fer cleanin'" Vin considered the idea, slowly realizing that it might be the perfect solution. He needed to be close to his friend but craved the wilderness he loved.

The large man laughed at the vision of the man in black with an apron on. "You've got a point there."

"Thanks Josiah." The soulful blue eyes were full of gratitude.

"Anytime, Son," the older man patted the slight shoulder before rising to his feet and leaving.

Tanner sighed with contentment at the thought of escaping the enclosing walls in the morning. He just hoped Wilmington wouldn't stay mad at him for too long.

Two days later

Chris was getting around town with the use of the crutches. Initially his weakened arm muscles protested the burden they carried but his strength was returning rapidly. Nathan felt it was due to the good shape the gunfighter was in before the injury.

Larabee wasn't surprised when Vin came to say he was heading out for a few days. It was like trying to cage an animal. He was worried about his friend, but couldn't deny the relief he also experienced. The rift between them still existed, he couldn't think of a way to take back the angry words he had spoken to Vin in Eden.

He began to worry about the state of his homestead, especially upon discovering no one had ridden out there lately. Over lunch in the saloon, he broached the subject with Nathan.

"Since I'm feeling better, I decided to take a ride out to the cabin and check things out." He put up a hand as the healer opened his mouth to object. "I know, I can't ride. Buck agreed to take me in the wagon. It's only for a couple of days."

The ladies man faced Jackson's glare. "C'mon Nate. Things have been real quiet. It'll only be for a couple of days and I'll keep a real close eye on him."

Surveying the faces around the table to see how everyone felt about the proposition, he caught the slight wink from the preacher. Nathan trusted the preacher and decided he would go along. Pointing his finger at the blond, he laid out the conditions. "You, stay out of the saddle. If the wound starts to hurt or get red, get your ass back to town. I'm holding you responsible for him." The finger swiveled to point at Buck this time.

Jackson looked at Josiah again. He wasn't sure what that wink meant but he was sure the older man knew something he didn't. He couldn't wait to find out.

+ + + + + + +

Even though he wasn't riding in a saddle, Larabee enjoyed the ride out to his cabin. They decided not to wait for Nathan to change his mind and loaded up the wagon with supplies and headed out of town.

As they pulled up to the small dwelling, Chris spotted a familiar horse. "Isn't that Peso?"

"Sure looks like it." Buck agreed in a voice tight with curiosity.

Arriving at the cabin, Wilmington jumped down just as the front door opened and a bucket of dirty water was flung at him.

"Vin" Larabee was trying not to laugh at the sight of the tracker. His shaggy hair was pulled back from his dirt streaked face. He was as naked as the day he was born. The blue eyes widened in surprise as his mind registered the presence of his friends.

The ladies man opened his mouth to protest his impromptu bath when he noticed the Texan's lack of attire and started to chortle with laughter. Realizing his appearance was the source of the merriment, Tanner disappeared into the cabin to dress.

"I ain't sorry I threw piss water on ya now." He taunted Wilmington as he reappeared clad in pants..

The older man abruptly stopped chuckling. "Piss water?" You threw..."

"Buck, shut up and help me down." Chris was feeling fatigue seeping in and eager to off the buckboard.

Vin turned to enter the shack, a wide grin on his face. He was absurdly happy to see his friends. He placed a pot of coffee on the stove before returning to help unload the wagon.

After the three men shared a simple dinner, the gunslinger felt his strength waning and lay down to nap. Buck insisted on returning to town that night. He could feel the tension between his two friends and realized that they needed some time alone to work out the problem. Besides, he had better things to do.

"That new saloon gal, Winnie, is playing hard to get. She was making eyes at Chris the other day but I think this is the night she's going to fall for the famous Wilmington charms."

The tracker grinned at the sight of the dimpled smile on the rogue's face. Some things never changed.

The older man took one of the mares, leaving the wagon in case Larabee needed to come back to Four Corners. Buck mounted the saddled horse and leaned his forearms on the pommel, the reins dangling from his hands. He was about to warn Vin to take good care of their leader but thought better of it. It seemed that his words were hurting the sharpshooter too much these days.

He grinned mischievously instead. "You know, Vin, the sight of you today...well my pants have been tight all night. Gonna be a helluva long ride back to town."

"Fuck ya'll Bucklin." He retorted impishly, reaching out to take the hand extended.

Buck opened his mouth to say something, but Vin's wide smile answered his call. With a good tug on the healing Tanner hand, Buck nodded and rode away.

Conclusion

Noon the next day

Larabee slept late and woke to find his body feeling stiff and sore. He wouldn’t admit it but yesterday’s ride took more out of him than he would have thought. His leg was throbbing and he was feeling irritated by the time he was up and dressed. Vin was patient with the recovering man as he helped him don his clothing.

Larabee's nose wrinkled as the familiar scent of something being burned alive hit his face. He gingerly walked towards the area where his stove was and waved his hand, dispelling smoke.

"You burn my house down, Tanner, you best get your scrawny ass into the next county" Chris paused and jerked when the loud bang of a heavy pan hitting the wall rebounded through the room. He limped over to the table to where something charred and still smoldering rested on a plate. "What the hell?"

"Shut the fuck up and eat!" Vin barked.

"Eat what?" Chris sat down, his face wrinkled in distaste. "Is this dead yet?" he prodded something with his fork. "Vin..." He lifted the object and held it up for inspection. "I happened to be fond of my teeth...plan on keepin' 'em for awhile yet. What the hell was this?"

"Meatcakes and flapjacks..." Vin muttered, grabbing the plate and fork from the smirking blond. "Here..." he shoved another plate at the recovering man and disappeared outside.

Chris eyed the new offerings, which were at least edible. He was halfway through when he saw the tracker reappear, and began chuckling at the flour, syrup and other kitchen substances all over his face and clothes.

"Mornin' Cowboy," he smirked, raising a sandy eyebrow in amusement as he raked over the disheveled figure. "Uh...Vin...I'm guessin' you're not hanging up your guns for a spoon anytime soon," he noted of the disastrous change of jobs. Vin didn't reply, rather he sat at the far end of the table, pushing his spoon halfheartedly through a pile of..."Beans again?" Chris didn’t even try to hide the distaste written on his face

"I like...beans..." Vin choked, gagging on the awful fare.

"You're full of shit, Tanner!" Chris replied, eyeing the empty crocks of flour and sugar. He eyed his plate and realized Vin had given him all the food that survived. "Here, I'm done, you finish this..." The older man shoved the plate away. "The only thing worse than your cooking is your fucking coffee."

Vin tried to hide the hurt the words caused. He'd spent the early morning trying to make Chris's morning meal a good one on his first day home. He burned his hands on the cast iron frypan and his fingers throbbed. His anger grew, "Don’t eat it then."

"Let's switch, gimme the beans." Chris moved to take the plate of old, mushy beans.

"Leave 'em be..." Vin snarled, shoving the plate of flapjacks and meat back at Chris, knocking over the syrup in the process. "GODDAMMIT CHRIS!" he jumped up and grabbed the jug, before any of the precious liquid was lost. In the meantime Chris moved in and took the plate of offensive beans.

Larabee tightened his grip and clenched his jaw. "I said I would eat the fucking beans!"

The plate became the prize in the ensuing tug of war. The injured man still wasn’t as strong as he thought and he lost his grip on the dinnerware. The meal became airborne and splattered across Vin’s body. Chris couldn’t help himself and he started laughing at the beans and sauce splotched all over Vin's already flour, sugar and syrup marred face. It really was a shame that the other men weren’t present to witness the comical sight.

Larabee began to sober as he realized that his friend wasn’t joining in on the hilarity. Instead of the good-natured grin he expected to see, Tanner looked like he was about to start crying.

"I’m so sorry Chris." The softly spoken words were barely audible.

"It’ll clean up, it’s not your fault." The blond hastened to assure the younger man. Then he realized the faraway look in the smoldering blue eyes had nothing to do with the messy room and ruined meal.

The dam Vin constructed in his mind broke and the words were out before he could stop them. "It’s all my fault...ya were right...yer head dam near got blowed off cause o'me. Took ya right int’a trap..."

"Is that what you’re thinking?" the gunslinger swore under his breath. His head pounded as a reddened vision of pain-filled cabin tore into it. He heard his words...shouting irately at the stunned tracker. Harsh words of blame and fury. Words that made a hole in Vin Tanner's heart. He should have realized his friend would try to shoulder the blame. "I was the one that got drunk and let it slip that there was a bounty on you. I’m the one who should be sorry."

"Ya didn’t mean it."

"Did you mean for us to ride into an ambush?"

Vin’s eyes widened in horror. "No, course not."

"Then why should you feel guilty?" Larabee reasoned. "I should have seen that your back was hurting and watched out for you."

"Wouldna made no difference."

"Just like it wouldn’t make a difference what trail we took. Those men were going to ambush us anyway."

Tanner nodded but still felt the weight of the price on his head. "Damn fuckin’ bounty."

Chris felt a pang of regret in his chest, and anger for Eli Joe. A raging, furious deadly wrath...that someone...anyone...would hurt Vin Tanner. He wanted to rip the bastard's heart out. He eyed the forlorn face and dejected shoulders. He moved slowly and placed a hand on Vin's back.

"Damn fuckin' ex-bounty hunter is the best thing that ever happened to me..." his voice was tight. He saw Vin's head fly up and the eyes wider than a blue summer sky.

Ya know yer kin…yer a brother t'me Chris.

Somehow the unconscious blond had heard those words. The two men felt their bond grow and deepen and they clasped forearms.

"With yer temper, it’s a good thing ya got me."

Chris faked a snort of disgust. "Ya, well I’m not the one wearing all that food."

This time laughter erupted from both men as they felt their world right itself.

+ + + + + + +

As he usually did, Vin rose early and, cup of coffee in hand, went to sit on the porch and watch the sun rise. He was surprised as the door opened and Chris hobbled out on his crutches.

"Yer up early." Tanner commented as the blond settled himself in a chair.

The older man shrugged. "Sleeping too much lately."

Vin rose to his feet and disappeared into the cabin to fetch another cup of coffee. Chris accepted the proffered brew with a grimace. "I’m almost getting used to this muck you call coffee."

"Ain’t so bad with a dollop o’ whiskey in it." Larabee grinned as the other hand appeared with a bottle and poured a small amount of the liquor into the cup.

"Thanks."

Vin acknowledged the expression of gratitude with a nod as he settled himself beside his friend. The men sat back to enjoy the peaceful moment.

Chris was the first to break the silence. "Had a strange thing happen to me while I was sick." The tracker waited for the older man to continue. "Think I saw your Ma."

The Texan felt the world tilt and his limbs felt frozen. It was several seconds before he could get the word past numb lips. "Ma?"

"She was real pretty"

Unable to speak, the sharpshooter could only nod. Tears sprung to his eyes as he pictured the cherished memory of his Mother.

"She’s real proud of you Vin."

Tears fell unchecked as Vin digested what Chris was saying. Several minutes passed before he could utter the question that lingered.

"Ya think it really was my Ma?"

Chris considered the question for a few minutes. How was he to answer when he wasn’t even sure himself? "Guess Josiah would call it a vision. Nathan might tell you it was a fever dream."

The younger man considered the possibilities. " Don't see how it matters none...ya said ya saw her...that's good 'nuf fer me..." He vowed, Larabee's words would always be all he needed.

Chris felt the enormity of the soft-spoken words and once again thanked God for sending him Vin. He cast his pale eyes heavenward as Dawn stretched, sending blue and rosy rays onto his face. He eyed the heavens and wondered if she was watching over him yet. He nodded, realizing she was and sending his silent acknowledgement of his vow.

"I’ll watch his back...you rest easy..." he whispered into the breeze.

"Ya say somethin'?" Vin cocked his head, seeing the gunslinger's lips move.

"Just thankin' the man upstairs..." Chris paused and gave his best friend a warm, open smile. "For a lot of things..."

Vin turned to look at his friend, gratitude shining in his eyes for the gift of kinship he shared with this man. He shuddered at the thought of how close he had been to losing him. No matter what they faced in the days to come, with every new dawn he would cherish the family the heavens had sent.

"Every new Dawn holds promise of what is yet to be born. She smiles at the departing Eve and her radiance lights up the heavens." Chris's voice was wistful and held a touch of longing. He turned and saw the emotion crossing Vin's face. "Don't get too comfortable Cowboy, you're not the only poet in town..."

"Ya call that a poem?" Vin shot back, his twin smile being born. "Hah..."

They sat in silence for some time, each thinking over the words Chris spoke. New promises brought on the new days. Every dawn did hold a new beginning. Just like the one they each found when that day when their eyes locked over a lynch mob.

"Thanks Chris..." Vin finally said, stretching his body.

"Nice try Tanner," Chris shot back, grinning evilly, "but you still gotta clean up that mess you made when you tried to burn my house down."

"Goddamn, ungrateful, tight-assed, glarin' bastard." Vin shuffled inside, "Wouldn't kill ya t'show come compassion. Jis' fer that, ya can't have any beans fer supper..."

"Let me check for blood," Chris quipped, opening his shirt over his heart. He ducked as the hand shot out and thwacked his head. Then he smiled, hearing Vin's colorful cursing filling the air along with banging pots and a broom. Yes, this new day did hold a world of promise.

END