Matters of Coincidence by Mog

Buck was sore. He and JD had ridden two days to Ridgehigh for a prisoner pick up and two days back to Four Corners with just enough breaks to eat and sleep. And while he would admit it was nice having seven peacekeepers in the relatively small vicinity, he didn't quite think it was fair that just because some podunk town couldn't afford to spare their own sheriff for a transfer, they had to help. Right now all he had on his mind was a stiff drink, a hot bath and a soft woman. In whatever order they happened to come to him.

"Have a rough couple of days, boys? I know we did." Wilmington swung himself from his horse and walked to where Chris and Vin sat relaxing in front of the jailhouse. Behind him, JD took care of getting their criminal ward out of the saddle and into the cool confines of a cell, grunting a weary salutation to his friends as he passed.

Vin squinted up at the dusty figure before him. "No, I think it's been pretty quiet around here. Chris?"

The glint in the blue eyes belied the serious expression on the face of the man sitting next to the tracker.

"Yeah, Vin. As a matter of fact I'd say quiet would be an understatement."

"I don't hear JD complainin' any." Vin added as the youngest member of their group joined them.

"That's 'cause he's too damn tired, ain't that right, kid."

"Yeah, I'm tired but no, there really isn't anything to complain about. Munsler wasn't any trouble at all. It was Buck that pushed us like we were gonna be late for a Saturday night dance. "Now 'scuse me, I'm hungry."

At the mention of food Buck gave up his attempt for sympathy. "I'm right behind ya, kid."

"A bit of lunch does sound good, Chris."

"Yeah, Vin, this sun does work up a man's appetite."

They shared a grin as Buck cast his best squint-eyed look in their direction.

The four men entered the saloon and drifted to where Ezra sat at his usual gaming table in the back, stopping briefly at the bar to put in a request for some lunch.

"Ya finally run outta suckers, Ezra?" asked Buck as he took one of the empty chairs beside his friend who was leafing through a catalog.

"It is a temporary setback, I assure you. There happens to be a stage due from Santa Luca tomorrow afternoon and I expect by tomorrow evenin' I shall have won enough to put in my request for several of the items which have already caught my attention from this establishment in New York."

"Afraid your wardrobe is gonna have to wait a bit longer, you and Vin are taking Munsler the rest of the way, leaving tomorrow morning."

The gambler's sly smile fell as he looked at Chris. "That is an attempt at humor, Mr. Larabee?"

''Sorry, Ezra. Buck and JD took the first leg. Nathan and Josiah are in Sweetwater, not due back till Tuesday."

"And you?" Standish asked pointedly.

Vin interrupted, answering for Chris. "I was there when Nathan threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't give that leg a rest for a least another week."

The gambler rose from his seat, not hiding his irritation. "What an auspicious gunshot wound, how fortunate it didn't go any higher and hit somethin' vital. Well, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I apparently have a trip to get ready for." And with that he tucked his catalog under his arm and stalked off.

The other four at least tried to stifle their laughter till the southerner was out of earshot.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh," Vin realized after a moment, "I have to ride with him."

+ + + + + + +

The sun hadn't been up very long when Chris met Vin in front of the jailhouse. The ex-buffalo hunter sat lounging, his lean legs stretched out before him, a cup of coffee wrapped in his hands, enjoying the simple silence of the early morning.

Larabee stopped close next to Vin, cocked his head and looked the other man up and down.

His friend stared back with a questioning look, "What?"

"Don't see any bullet holes, didn't you wake Ezra yet?"

Tanner answered with a small smile, "You're the one who assigned him to this, maybe you should be keepin' your eyes open."

"Nah, this time of morning he's bound to miss." Chris pulled the steaming mug from his partner's grasp and took a drink, looking up and down the quiet thoroughfare.

A few moments passed before Vin glanced past Chris. "Gimme that back," he said, motioning for the coffee, "I don't want any blood to get in it."

Chris looked over his shoulder and saw a none-to-happy gambler making his way toward them. The dark circles under his eyes contrasted sharply with the crisp white shirt and elegant, indigo blue jacket he wore.

Vin raised his mug to Ezra in a hello toast, "Speak of the devil."

"Just one of his better looking disciples," Standish retorted in a growly, morning voice. "If I didn't know better, Mr. Larabee, I would suspect you were here to enjoy my misery."

To anyone else Chris's expression was disturbingly serious but to those who knew him the light in his eyes and the raise of his brows held an obvious mischievous glint.

"I promise you, Ezra, if I weren't afraid of Nathan's wrath, I'd go. It's mighty cruel to put Vin through the amount of complaining you're gonna layer on him over the next couple days."

"I'll be sure to save some for you. If you'll pardon me, I must attend to the horses."

Vin handed his coffee cup to Chris, "Think I'll just go help, don't want him mad at me too."

The town was still quiet as Vin, Ezra and their handcuffed companion saddled up and prepared to head out. Chris had taken the seat in front of the jail and offered a final good luck to his friends.

"Day there, day back," then, glancing at Ezra, "and I'm sure you'll be spending the night once there. See ya 'round Monday."

Vin touched the brim of his hat, "Try not to let things fall apart while I'm away, cowboy."

+ + + + + + +

"You done flippin' through those damn things, Grey, I'm thirsty."

Rueben Craft held his left boot in his hand and rapped it sharply against the side of the Los Partas' sheriff's desk. Earning him a hard look from Deputy Stephen McColm, which the tall redhead was happy to ignore if it meant he didn't have to walk around with those damn rocks in his feet.

"And you'll be richer if, outta this pile, I find another bounty to bring in." His partner, Hamilton Grey, leaned his stocky build against the wall of the jailhouse, a small stack of yellowed handbills in his grasp.

"Zeke Gurado, 200' 'One-Eye' Cascar, 350; hey, here's another one wanted in Tuscosa. Ooh-wee, 500 dollars for a Vin…Tamer? Tanner? Jeez, McColm, these are beat up enough, whad'ya do, spill coffee on 'em? Can't even make out the description for this guy."

The deputy didn't even bother to acknowledge the bounty hunter with a look, just kept on cleaning his pistol as he responded.

"Ain't like you're gonna find him anyway. Or wait…" he added sarcastically, "maybe he's over in the saloon right now, why don't you take your partner and go look…an' get the hell outta my jail."

Craft had his boot pulled back on and was headed for the door, "C'mon Grey, we may not have enough for a hotel tonight but we sure got what it takes between us for a handful of beers. And if I gotta spend the night camped out in the desert I wanna make sure I'm damned good and drunk first."

"Keep an eye on our boy, Deputy, he's worth a sweet six hundred and fifty dollars soon as we get him back to Tuscosa."

McColm looked up at the two men as they left, "Just make sure you get him outta here 'fore midnight. Otherwise it'll be ten tomorrow morning when you get him back. I ain't comin' in early just for you two."

The deputy watched the bounty hunters go, happy to see them leave. The boy they had brought in was curled on a cot in one of two cells of the jailhouse, his face to the wall. McColm felt bad for the kid, an emotion he didn't feel often. He had crossed the path of Grey and Craft enough times to know that while the bounty the Texas-owned bank had put up for the boy was guaranteed only if alive, it didn't say what condition the prisoner had to be in when he arrived for trial.

The kid didn't look any more that eighteen. Had an obvious black eye and a mean scrape across his left cheek when the hunters brought him in. And God help him if the two got liquored up before coming back. McColm had told them about the old jailhouse that stood outside town, a structure left over from the earlier days of Los Partas. They could stay there for free and be mostly out of the elements. 'Course, the deputy didn't care where they stayed just as long as it was away from him.

+ + + + + + +

The trip to Los Partas was as uneventful as the two peacekeepers could have hoped for. Getting into the busy town shortly after sundown Ezra escorted Munsler to the jailhouse while Vin, under strict direction from the dusty, tired gambler booked rooms at the hotel. More of Standish's prodding had them taking in a dinner that was more than acceptable, even by the southerner's fastidious tastes.

"Perhaps this little trip won't be as unfruitful as I had anticipated."

The two men stood at the bar of the saloon taking in the activity of the large room.

A red-faced, haggard looking bartender appeared seconds after Ezra lay his coins on the bar and stared at them, awaiting their orders.

"Mr. Tanner, allow me to buy you a drink, I have a very good feeling about tonight."

He turned his attention to the barkeep. "If, behind this bar, you have a fine bottle of whiskey, I would be forever in your debt."

The bartender stared back and forth at the odd pair, scooped some of the coins into his hand and returned with a bottle of Scotch whiskey and two glasses.

The older man lingered by the two a bit longer, finally speaking. "That's a mighty fine jacket, son. Any chance you'd be willin' to sell it?"

"My dear sir, while your taste in clothes is admirable, I'm fairly certain your girth would most likely severely stress the confines of this fabric."

The older man stared at Ezra for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Not you, boy," he replied with a snort before looking to Vin. "You."

Tanner held a subtle hand over his mouth, trying to cover the smile over Ezra's misinterpretation.

"Uh, no. It's kinda a favorite of mine."

As the bartender turned his attention to a pair of men that approached the bar at Vin's side, the tracker took the bottle of whiskey and poured two shots before raising a glass appreciatively in a toast to himself.

"Vin Tanner, you deserve this."

"May Lady Luck smile on me tonight," Ezra added with a grin wide enough to show his gold tooth.

They shot back their drinks and Vin poured them another.

Ezra sipped this one gently and spoke again, oblivious to the two men next to Vin straining to hear what else he had to say.

"Evenin's like this, when everythin' feels as if it's goin' to go your way; one can almost forget about things such as past transgressions, skipped bails or towns like Tuscosa."

"Almost," Vin replied quietly with a half-smile.

Tanner followed Ezra as the gambler collected the whiskey bottle off the bar and made his way to one of the several poker tables that held empty chairs.

Rueben Craft's eyes locked with his partner's, not believing what he had just heard but at the same time knowing that there had been no mistake.

The bartender addressed them, "You want two more beers?"

Grey tried to hide his emotion as he dug a few coins from his pocket and passed them over the bar. "Yeah, couple more would be fine, and uh…maybe you could answer a question. We're supposed to be meetin' a man here, gonna get us hooked up with a cattle drive. Name of Tanner, Vin Tanner. Don't suppose ya know him?"

The older man pulled the beers and set them on the bar before responding. "Well, I don't know him but that fella who was just standin' here matches the name."

He nodded his head in the direction of the poker table and continued as he was called to the other end of the bar, "The one with that nice coat."

Craft and Grey smiled in disbelief as they looked to the two gentlemen taking seats at a small, round table.

"How nice of his partner to toast him." Rueben said in low tone to this colleague.

Hamilton shook his head with a short laugh. "I think Lady Luck is smiling on someone tonight, but it sure as hell ain't Vin Tanner."

Craft responded to his partner without looking at him, "Maybe I'll jus' go place the horses by the hotel, then what's say we take a couple seats in the corner and keep an eye on that 500 dollars in the fancy blue jacket." ----

The evening wore on, Vin and Ezra finished their bottle, the southerner did well at seven card draw, Red High and Chicago and when the two friends finally decided to call it a night, Craft and Grey were right behind them as they left.

A light breeze flicked strands of Vin's hair around his face and blew a welcome freshness from the stale air of the saloon as he and Ezra drifted up the empty street to their hotel.

Standish was relating a tale of the time he had shared a bottle of Scotch whiskey with a lovely lady from the coast of Maine but was regretfully unable to finish it before her two older brothers made an unscheduled appearance.

The tracker listened with half an ear as he stared up at the pinpoints for light in the dark sky. He was vaguely aware of the two figures following behind but as he had been the one to consume most of that night's bottle of Scotch whiskey, he really wasn't paying them much attention. Something which he would regret deeply.

Craft and Grey waited until they approached the mouth of an alley then struck at the same time, each wielding a heavy, wood billy club. Rueben cracked Vin across the back of the head while Grey knocked Ezra to his knees with a fierce blow to the base of the skull. Craft kicked his target viciously in the ribs to force the air from the brunette's lungs and prevent him from crying out.

The bounty hunters had performed this type of task enough times together and knew how to quickly and efficiently take out their opponents.

Vin's intake of whiskey slowed his reflexes considerable and enhanced the sense of disorientation he experienced as another blow was delivered to the side of his head. A large piece of cloth was stuffed into Tanner's mouth but his attempt to remove it was hampered as he felt his hands pulled tightly behind his back. The tracker grunted involuntarily when Craft secured his wrists sharply with a pre-looped string of leather.

By forcing the wad of cotton fabric into their victims' mouths the hunters achieved a horrible double effect. They could muffle any vocalization that would attract unwanted attention while further adding to the confusion of their quarry. And confusion went a long way toward disabling a victim.

Vin was trying to work the fabric out of his mouth; his legs kicked out violently in a vain attempt to strike his attacker. But even that defense was taken from him when Craft slammed the tip of his boot into Tanner's thigh to quiet him and wrapped a second length of leather around Vin's ankles.

He had almost managed to spit out the cloth but Rueben was easily three steps ahead. The redhead secured a bandana that wedged the rag back in place and tied it at the back of Vin's aching skull. And finally, Craft pulled a small sack over Tanner's head, efficiently blinding him.

The tracker continued to struggle against the bonds as he felt himself dragged along his stomach and dumped on his side with his back against a hard surface that he guessed was the wall of the building he and Ezra were next to when the attack came. Ezra. Vin fought his spinning head and the panic of his own situation as he strained to hear anything that would tip him off to the gambler's predicament.

That's when the shots came. Two quick pops that some part of Vin's shaky brain recognized as Ezra's Derringer. A guttural cry that was not from Standish brought a bit of wicked satisfaction to Tanner as he realized that at least one bullet had found its mark. But the triumph was short lived when a dull thud was followed with a muffled grunt that Vin did identify as coming from the southerner.

"Sonofabitch shot me!"

"With what?! You got his guns. Check his hands!"

"You check 'em!"

Vin heard the man close to him move away. "Damn. Take a look at this."

Then what Tanner thought to be stifled curses from Ezra followed by the voice of the man who had been shot.

"I'm gonna kill him!" Another thud of a blow to a body and a strained groan.

"Kill him later, we gotta get outta here. Get the horses."

Then Vin's tormentor was back at his side. A strong hand wrapped around the tracker's throat and slammed his head against the wall he lay touching. Tanner swallowed hard, suppressing the wave of nausea that rolled through him.

"Sorry, son. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Guess that's what ya get for associating with wanted men, like your friend Tanner, here."

Vin heard the approach of hooves as he tried to figure out what the hell the man was talking about.

"My advice to you is to forget you ever knew this murderer 'cause if we see your face again, we'll shoot it off." A second slam of Tanner's severely aching skull drove home the point.

"C'mon, Craft, I can't do this by myself."

"Relax, Grey, I'm comin'."

Again, the man called Craft moved from Vin. Nervous shifting of three horses and grunts from the shooting victim let Tanner know that they were most likely loading Ezra onto one of the beasts. Vin continued to struggle against the straps binding his wrists but tried to keep his movement to a minimum. He didn't want to bring any more attention to himself since he knew that would only bring more pain. And he had plenty already.

Once they had Standish resting unceremoniously face down behind the saddle of one of the horses, Rueben inspected his partner's arm.

"Ya needed the whole shirt to wrap it?" the tall redhead asked sarcastically.

"'Scuse the hell outta me, I'd kinda like to keep my blood on the inside. Which is more than I can say for you, Tanner."

"Leave him be." Craft retorted sharply, trying to get a decent look at the bullet wound in the dark of the alley. "It passed through, but you're still bleedin' pretty good."

"No shit."

Rueben ignored the curse and rewrapped his colleague's arm. "I'll sew it when we make camp. Sure as hell ain't the first time. I'm gonna go get Norwich, you head out with Tanner, I'll catch up."

Vin sensed the men moving in opposite directions, two horses heading north, one south. He fought the panic that came with the suffocating feeling of having the rag in his mouth and the sack draped over his head.

'Okay,' he thought to himself, 'first things first.' The lean brunette twisted and repositioned himself until he managed to shake the small bag from his head. Good, he could see and breathe a little easier too, even if it was only through his nose.

The leather loop around his wrists had been secured quickly; consequently, not very efficiently. It only took another minute and Vin's hands were free. He ripped the bandana away from his head and pulled out the rag, but kept it to dab at the blood matting a small patch of his hair. 'Confident bastards', they hadn't even bothered to take his sidearm.

He struggled to his feet, steadying himself with a hand against the building as the dizziness brought on from his beating and the whiskey threatened to drive him back down to the ground.

'What the hell is goin' on?' They were obviously bounty men, they also obviously thought that Ezra was Vin. The one called Rueben had mentioned something about getting Norwich, did that mean there were three of them?

'C'mon, Tanner, pull it together, you may be in bad shape but it's a sure bet you're a helluva lot better off than Ezra.'

Vin made his way to the stables, taking a moment to run water from the trough over his face and the back of his neck before indelicately rousing the groomsman from his bed to collect his horse. He had just lay the saddle across the back of Peso when the dull clop of hooves thudded past.

Tanner ran to the open door of the barn hoping it would be what he thought. Two horses, two riders, headed south. But even in the faint light of the small street fires Vin could see the second horseman with his hands behind his back and the lead rider holding the reins of the following roan.

'Guess Norwich ain't one of them.'

Vin finished strapping his saddle in place and secured the bit and reins, then just before he mounted, the tracker checked his two Winchesters. His head still throbbed as he spurred his horse from the stable but, he thought, not nearly as much as those miserable bastards were going to hurt when he caught up with them.

+ + + + + + + Ezra's evening had suddenly turned very unpleasant. There he was, happy with his place in the world, having imbibed enough of that Scotch Whiskey to keep a permanent grin on his face and best of all, having just unloaded fifty-seven dollars from those amateurs in the saloon. He was reliving a pleasant memory aloud to Mr. Tanner when the Fates decided to mix things up.

The initial blow knocked Ezra to his knees, the second landed him face down on the dirt street and the sharp kick to his ribs curled him into a tight ball of self-preservation. His first instinctive thought was that the men he had beaten at cards decided the southerner was in need of a beating himself.

Most of Standish's life had involved pissing people off and then putting as much distance as possible between his person and them. But over the past year things had changed, he had changed. No matter how hard his conditioning fought it, Ezra realized that the peacekeepers he rode with trusted him, expected him to back them up and, in turn, were there for him.

Hell, he'd barely cheated in a game for nearly nine months, not only because he didn't feel the need to but because this odd, new-found conscience tended to make him feel guilty if he tried.

So what had he done to get someone this mad at him? The gambler's brain screamed at him to fight when the large rag was stuffed in his mouth and locked in place with a bandana, but his body was still stunned by the suddenness of the intense attack and his limbs were sluggish in responding. Ezra felt the leather strap bite into the flesh of his wrists and what he guessed to be a second one secure his feet together.

He attempted to twist around, trying to see who was responsible but all he glimpsed was the sack just before it came down over his head. A disorienting pull across the ground gave Standish some relatively unabused seconds to shift his arms into place.

Just as he felt his feet released, Ezra engaged his Derringer. Raising his bound arms as high as he could away from his back he let off both shots. A pained yelp helped ease the shock of the kick to his ribs that came shortly after he fired his handgun.

"Sonofabitch shot me!"

"With what?! You got his guns. Check his hands!"

"You check 'em!"

Ezra's stomach muscles tightened as his knees came up protectively in front of his ribs. He was only half-aware of the strong hand that wrenched the two-shot pistol from his grasp.

"Damn. Take a look at this."

Standish's southern pride let fly a string of curses muffled by the gag. An uncle had once called him a 'wildcat in a hound dog skin', impassive until pressed. Well, he certainly didn't wish to disprove his uncle's description.

I'm gonna kill him!" A kick to the shoulders this time. Ezra's back arched, he groaned and blinked back the pain and adrenaline pushed tears hidden by the smothering hood. He detected some more talking but was having a hard time hearing past the pounding in his ears.

Next thing he knew he was being roughly lifted onto the back of a horse.

"…Which is more than I can say for you, Tanner." A hand grabbed Ezra's hair through the sack and yanked his head up.

That was directed at him. 'What the hell?' The fingers released him and Ezra's head flopped forward, he made no effort to control the drop. He was in pain, disoriented and alone…no, not this time. Ezra's concern for his own well being shifted abruptly as he realized he had no idea what happened to Vin.

Craft and Grey, as he overheard their names, seemed focused only on him. And the one Ezra had shot, Grey, had called him Tanner. 'What the hell?' he thought again.

"…sew it when he make camp. Sure as hell ain't the first time. I'm gonna go get Norwich, you head out with Tanner, I'll catch up."

'Think later, hold on now.' Positioned like the proverbial sack of potatoes it was all Ezra could do to tighten his muscles and stay on the back of the horse. After a few minutes the tingling from his hands falling asleep overshadowed, albeit slightly, the pain in his ribs. Shortly after that Standish heard other riders approaching, two from the sound of it. He wondered if Vin was on one of those horses.

"Any trouble?" Ezra recognized the voice as the one called Craft.

"My arm hurts like hell, ain't that trouble enough?"

"I woulda guessed the thought of 500 bucks mighta helped ease the pain some."

Ezra sensed Grey shift in his saddle, "Yeah, I guess that plus Norwich's 650 does make it feel a little better."

They rode the rest of the way in silence and Ezra guessed it was another twenty minutes before they reigned the horses to a stop. The gambler was sweating terribly between the strain of trying to stay on the back of the smelly animal and heat produced by the rough sack that still covered his head.

He heard one rider dismount; then, without warning, a strong hand jerked Standish from the horse. A leather strap still circled his boots at the ankles and as his feet hit the ground Ezra's inability to stabilize himself sent him tumbling face down to the dirt.

The southerner lay on his side, half expecting another kick but instead the now frigid air of the desert night rushed across his face as the sack was yanked away. Hands working at the back of his head released the bandana and pulled the gag from his mouth. Ezra ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth in an attempt to dispel the cottonmouth generated by the rag.

And he got his first look at his captors. The one he guessed was Craft, since he showed no sign of a wound, also undid the binding at Ezra's ankles and hauled the gambler to his feet. He stood an easy half a head taller than Standish, a shock of short red hair and strawberry blond eyebrows set off a pair of dark green eyes. And he held a Smith & Wesson .45 comfortably in his left hand.

For an instant the deep-set lines at the corners of the man's mouth reminded Ezra of Chris, but then the southerner realized the respect he held for Larabee could never possibly carry over to an individual as deplorable as this one.

"Well, Tanner, looks like you used up all your luck at the poker table. You might have deserved that shot of whiskey, but I think we're much more deserving of the five hundred we're gonna get for bringin' your ass back to Tuscosa."

'My God,' thought Ezra as the realization his him. 'They've been watching us all night.'

Standish bit back the sarcastic comment that sprang to his lips. It would be more advantageous to keep quiet until he had a better handle of his situation. The gambler was enormously relieved when he saw that the fourth member of their party wasn't Vin. But it was only a partial relief.

If these two idiots thought Ezra was someone they could collect a bounty on then that would be sufficient reason to keep him in at least good enough condition to travel in. But Vin meant nothing to them. Ezra didn't suspect they'd kill Tanner outright, but you don't have to put a bullet through a man to kill him. A decent collection of kicks to the stomach and ribs could do that.

Craft still maintained a vise-like grip on the arm he had pulled the smaller man up by. As his partner dismounted and secured the horses, the redhead guided Standish toward a medium sized structure a few meters away.

A half moon in the night sky offered vague illumination on the building. It reminded Ezra of a larger version of the burnt out plantation's slave's quarters he had spent some time in when he was down on his luck in the months following the war. 'Isn't life just a glorious little cycle,' thought Ezra sardonically.

With one hand holding Ezra firmly and the other hand keeping his .45 resting against the side of Standish's neck Craft waited by the entrance of the shelter for Grey to arrive with their second bounty and an oil lamp. Hamilton led the way, the iridescent offerings of light stretching only a few feet before being swallowed by the darkness that surrounded the men.

"Hey, take a look here! This night just keeps getting better." The stocky hunter pulled something from the door of one of the cells. The clanking of metal made it obvious that the keys to the old enclosure were still on the premises. And the squeak of well-worn hinges announced the fact that the keys still worked.

Grey shoved his captive into one of the small rooms, locked the heavy wooden door and crossed back to Rueben to help him secure his prisoner. Craft finally released his severe grip on Ezra's arm and nudged the gambler into the second tiny room with the barrel of his pistol.

Ezra decided to take a chance and break his self-imposed silence.

"Should I tell you gentlemen now that my name is not Tanner, or are we going to wait until we arrive at our destination and have the local authorities inform you?"

Grey barked a laugh and shook his head. "Ya hear that, Rueben? We made a mistake." He handed the lantern to his partner and strode forward to Ezra, stopping inches from the gambler. Hamilton reeked of beer and Standish braced himself for another blow but was surprised and relieved when none came.

"I guess that bartender who pointed out 'Tanner, the one with the nice coat' made a mistake, too. Oh, and your friend who raised that glass to ya, I guess he made a mistake as well. And you sure as hell made a mistake when you shot me."

That was when the punch came. A sharp drive into his stomach dropped Standish to his knees, gasping for breath. His entire body tensed for another attack but the second one came in a different form.

Grey simply gave the gambler a hard shove backwards. His still bound arms bore most of the brunt of the fall. The southerner opened his eyes just as Hamilton pulled a bowie knife from the sheath at his boot. Ezra set his jaw firmly and tried to slow his breathing in an attempt to arrest from this cretin any pleasure that would be derived from seeing trepidation in his victim.

The stocky hunter knelt over Standish, laying the seven-inch blade against the downed man's neck. With his other hand he proceeded to rifle through Ezra's jacket pockets. Relieving the gambler of his flask and pocket watch. Out of habit, Ezra had tucked his winnings from that night into his boot. A brief thought of at least not having to suffer the indignity of dying penniless flitted through Ezra's mind as he felt the blade slice lightly across the soft skin of his throat.

He had been unaware of clamping his eyes shut until he heard Craft's bored voice in the background.

"Enough, Grey. I still gotta tend to the horses, start a fire and see to your arm. You gonna help or not?"

"Yeah. Oh, almost forgot." Hamilton stretched to keep the knife at Ezra's throat while his free hand shoved the fine black material of the southerner's dusty pant leg up out of the way. The bounty hunter ran his fingers around the top inside of the boot till he gripped the stash of money hidden there. "You're a damn good poker player, son."

Grey stepped away from Ezra, laughing in a low tone as he left the cell and letting Craft lock it behind him. "Ooh-wee, remind me not to turn my back on that one. Ya see the fire in that boy's eyes? Burnin' green like a demon. Suppose if looks could kill, you sure as hell wouldn't have to worry 'bout tendin' to my arm."

Left in the darkness Ezra rolled wearily onto his side. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sting of the harmless slice at his throat, the nauseous feeling from his beatings, the cold numb in his hands from lack of movement and the overall sick sense he got from being totally out of control of his situation.

Standish trembled uncontrollably from the rush of unused adrenaline coursing through him and the penetrating cold night air as it sliced through his jacket and sweat soaked shirt. In an effort to pull his thoughts from his unfortunate state Ezra concentrated on working his hands free. His practiced manual dexterity was beneficial for more than just cards as the gambler loosened the leather constraints.

Ezra didn't even try to lift his arms; he simply rolled himself onto his stomach and lay there as the blood began to pump fluidly into his hands. Eventually, he bit his lip against the pain in his ribcage and used his stomach muscles to turn himself onto his back where he lay a bit longer. Finally dragging himself into a corner of the stone structure and dabbing, with a saliva dampened handkerchief, at the dried blood caked at his throat and matted at the back of his head from the earlier blows.

The southerner, worn down from both the physical and mental exhaustion of the past hour or so wrapped his arms around his aching ribs, pulled his knees against his chest and let his chin fall to his chest, eyes closing. He tried to control the shivering brought on by the cold night that worked its way through his body, but he soon gave in and again bit the inside of his lip against the strain of his ribs.

'Haven't come very far at all have you, Mr. Standish?' a voice in his head mocked. 'Your mother was right to leave you on your own, got you used to the position you'll be in when you die.'

'NO!' Ezra snapped back at the voice, trying to dismiss the self-defeating thoughts. Things weren't like that anymore. It took this moment of pure weariness and fatigue for the gambler to allow himself the realization that he had come to depend on someone besides his own person. Six others, actually.

Sleep came to collect the gambler as a few thoughts continued to run through his mind. Vin would find him; Vin was an excellent tracker. Vin was alive and he would find him. He had to be alive…'please, let him find me.' ----

With each hard landing of Peso's hooves against the dirt road Vin's head impolitely reminded him of how pissed he was. To ambush a man on such a beautiful night…well, it just shouldn't be done.

Tanner had no difficulty following Craft and Grey. They were going to make camp tonight, which meant they weren't likely to be traveling far; so Vin was comfortable with the large distance he allowed between himself and the men on horseback. There was no reason for them to think they were being trailed, all the tracker had to do was stick to the road and make sure he didn't get too close.

Tanner was a little surprised when he realized just how tense he actually did feel. But it wasn't just a headache and a ruined night that put such an edge on Vin's temper. Though he wasn't consciously aware of it, the tracker's anger was drawn out of concern for Ezra.

The fact that Tanner had caught himself thinking of the odd collection of gunfighters he rode with as family had not escaped his notice. If he had given it more dedicated thought he would have realized just how much like brothers they had all become to each other. And it was from these feelings that an unconscious indignation arose at the idea that anyone would dare try to take one of those siblings from the fold. Even if it was the black sheep.

Vin saw the small fire from quite a distance away. The half of the moon that showed itself in the night sky offered Tanner limited visibility to the positions of the camp's parties. But Vin was thankful for the cover of dark that the dull lunar coin would provide for him when he would need it.

The landscape was sparse. Vin had secured Peso's reins to nothing more that some scrub brush before grabbing his spyglass and some jerky from his saddlebag. Pulling his hide coat tight against his lean frame Tanner settled in, watched and waited. ---

Ezra awoke to silence, cold and darkness. 'Divine. Place a wooden box around me and we'll just call it a life.' Some moonlight slid in through a barred window high in the wall and allowed Standish a reminder of what squalid quarters he was being forced to endure.

The southerner wasn't sure how long he had been asleep but didn't feel it had been very long. He wasn't even sure what had pulled him from his pain-relieving unconscious state until he heard the sound with alert ears.

Crying, low and muffled, from the other side of the wall.

"I take it I'm not alone."

A slight gasp was followed by silence. Ezra sensed the other was listening and continued. "Seeing as we are both in the same lamentable state, perhaps you could see your way to providing me with some information."

Standish paused again and for a second wondered if the sounds he had heard had not just been in his dreams.

"You're…you're southern."

Ezra had to laugh, much to the protests of his ribcage.

"That piece of information I had already, but I appreciate your willingness toward conversation."

"My mama was southern. Not heard talk like that in a while."

Ezra had briefly seen Craft and Grey's second prisoner but the low light had made it impossible for him to get a look at the man. The voice had a northern accent and sounded young, definitely no older that JD. Ezra caught the slight hitch in the voice and the use of the word 'was'.

"Well now, how is it that a man of such fine lineage could end up in this part of the country?"

"Mama died of the pox last spring, Father of consumption two months before that."

'My God,' the gambler thought to himself, 'and I thought I'd had runs of bad luck.'

The boy continued, obviously grateful to have someone to talk to. "I was supposed to go live with my aunt and uncle in Sacramento. I was on my way there but…well, things changed."

Ezra smiled wryly, 'They often do.'

The gambler could not help but notice the boy's mix of speech patterns. 'Mama' and 'Father'. And neither did it escape him that the other didn't seem stumped by the southerner's own use of language as were so many people that he had met in the west. He decided to hazard a guess. "Your father was from the North?"

"Ye-yeah." The surprise registered in the boy's voice but he continued. "He owned a cotton mill. Mama's family owned a plantation."

'Love and business, what more does a man need?' Ezra guessed again, "Your future was not seen to?" With that background, the boy had to have come from money and he obviously had had some sort of schooling. Yet, there was that unrefined edge to him.

"Mama did charity work, that's where she caught the pox. Things didn't go so well after Father passed."

A very clear picture began to form for the gambler. Probably neither family was very pleased that the geographically mixed couple had gotten together but if it brought in money, well, family could certainly be seen to look the other way.

But if his mother devoted her time to charity it definitely set her apart from most of the southern plantation belles Ezra had known in his past. God forbid, a gentleman's daughter devote herself to anything more than gossip or fashion. And once the boy's father died, the paternal family most likely made a successful move to take over the business, graciously allowing the widow more time for her grieving, no doubt.

Ezra rolled his eyes in disgust. He had certainly done unscrupulous things in his past but shipping a child away form his home while the parents' bodies were practically still warm just to secure a factory; that was low.

"So the collective families decided it would be in your best interest to come west." The gambler didn't even attempt to hide his disgust. "Was this on their agenda, as well?"

Ezra thought he heard a slight chuckle.

"I guess you could say I got sidetracked. They're taking me back to Tuscosa to stand trial for train robbery."

"That would constitute 'sidetracked'."

"I wasn't part of it." The statement was practically blurted. As if the boy desperately wanted someone, anyone to believe that he wasn't some sort of hardened criminal. "I was part of the gang but I just waited at the checkpoint with fresh horses. I wasn't anywhere near the line when they hit it."

Ezra didn't wish to scare the young man anymore that he already was but curiosity got the better of him. "People hurt?"

"Three killed, one was a guard in the vault car."

This boy was in trouble. Banks did not take such infringements lightly and had no qualms about setting examples with whomever they could. . "Fell in with the wrong crowd," he added in a small, sad voice. Six little words, yet mumbled in the dark of a cold, rotted straw lined cell they spoke volumes. How close had JD come to being the boy on the other side of this thin wall?

"How 'bout you?" the voice queried, obviously wishing to take his mind off his own plight.

"Mistaken identity, I am afraid. One which I'm sure will be cleared up." Then, adding in a low mutter to himself, "If I live that long."

"I hope it is," came the honest reply, "no one should be in a place like this."

"Ah, yes. I don't suppose you'd know exactly where this 'place' is? I fear I was a bit disoriented when we arrived."

"Just on the outside of town. I think it was the first jail, guess they didn't want the good people being affected by the bad. But it prob'ly got too inconvenient as the town got bigger."

'Intelligent and intuitive,' thought Ezra, 'what a waste.' Of course, it dawned on him, not as much of a waste as the gambler would be if Vin didn't find him soon.

The chirp of crickets pervaded the air as the two prisoners fell silent.

"I'm Nathan Norwich, by the way."

The gambler had to smile at the introduction. Even in a small pit a thousand miles from home, this young man's breeding instilled in him by his mother shone through.

"Ezra Standish, at your…limited service."

+ + + + + + +

"Nice to meet ya, Ezra."

"Likewise, I am sure." Then, continuing after a pause, "Nathan is a fine name, represents one of character and integrity."

"I don't know about that. Mine's short for Nathaniel. Mama said she had a friend who was a writer, that's where she picked the name from. She said he was good at recognizing that people aren't just about what's on the outside."

"Your mother sounds as if she lacked neither character nor integrity."

"She was good," came the simple reply. " 'Night, Mr. Standish."

"Good night, Mr. Norwich."

Ezra rested his head against the wall of his cell and closed his eyes, listening to the crickets. He wondered what time it was, wondered about Fate's dealings with the young man in the room next to him and he wondered, with all the optimism he could muster, what state of affairs Vin Tanner was in. ---

Vin wondered how Ezra was holding up. He had waited patiently in the dark and watched through his glass as Craft sewed up the bullet wound in his partner's arm. Tanner's desire to see the men left for coyote bait grew as Rueben poured what Vin suspected was some of Ezra's good whiskey on the wound before passing the flask back to Grey to pull off of.

And an hour after the two hunters finally retired to the cover of the shabby structure near the town of Los Partas, Vin Tanner stopped waiting. ---

The lean figure eased carefully along the side of the old jailhouse and peered through the open square that acted as a window to the right of the thick wood door. He could just barely make out two other solid-looking portals behind the figures that lay sleeping on the floor.

Moving with a practiced silence, Vin pulled himself through the window and eased his feet to the dirt floor. He listened to the rhythmic breathing patterns and, satisfied that both men were still blissfully unaware of his presence, pulled his Mare's leg from his side.

The practices and instincts that Vin had built up during his own time as a bounty hunter made him shake his head at how lax Craft and Grey were. Each of their rifles and sidearms had been placed with their saddlebags against one wall of the open room. They slept simultaneously, though there were two of them. They either hadn't been hunters very long and were stupid or they had been doing it too long and had gotten careless.

Vin moved smoothly as he transferred each of the weapons from their resting spot to a much less convenient location on the ground outside the window. All the while monitoring closely for any changes in the steady breathing.

In Hamilton's dream he was a boy, lying near the pond on his grandparent's property and his brother was poking him in the head with a stick. But when he opened his eyes it wasn't his brother that he saw and it sure as hell wasn't a piece of wood hovering inches from his skull.

It took several seconds for his brain to take in the figure that stood over him. And when it finished processing the information it vocalized its conclusion in one word.

"Shit."

Vin could see in what little moonlight there was filling the room that the man's eyes were huge. Half from a natural reaction to allow the pupils to gather as much light as possible and half from a natural reaction that occurred when someone was standing at your head with a sawed-off Winchester rifle nearly resting on your scalp.

"Wake him up." Vin's voice was only slightly softer than usual.

Grey didn't move, just called out to his partner. "Craft? Craft. Wake up. Rueben!"

"Wha-, wha's yur prob-" But he stopped as soon as he saw what the problem was.

Rueben was on Grey's left side and Vin was on his right, standing just far enough out of reach to avoid any easy contact but definitely close enough to make the threat of his Mare's leg very real.

Vin kept his eyes and weapon locked on Grey but spoke to the redheaded man. "Well, now, Rueben, you're gonna do me a little favor. Movin' real slow, you're gonna get my friend on this side of which ever one a' those doors you got him behind and then you're gonna have a seat against that wall."

Craft wasn't sure who he was more pissed at; this little shit from the alley for not having the sense to leave well enough alone, or himself for not killing the little shit from the alley when he had the chance. But he bit back his anger and rose slowly from his bedroll.

Retrieving the keys from a nail on the wall he crossed to the closest door. Unlocking it, he pushed the door open and stood back to reveal a rather weary, somewhat dirty, very relieved southerner.

When Ezra heard the crickets around the building cease their chirping his eyes snapped open. And when his ears picked up the slight sound of movement coming from the other side of the door he couldn't prevent his heartbeat from increasing. But the one word curse and the soft western drawl that followed made Standish want to have a first born son just so he could name it Vin.

After the door opened Ezra waited for Craft to move to his requested seated position against the wall before exiting his cell.

Vin risked a glance at the gambler. "Ya alright?"

Standish met the tracker's blue eyes and let a slight smile show, "Decidedly better."

Tanner turned his attention back to the hunters and spoke again to his friend, "Then what say we leave these boys to their sleep."

Ezra paused briefly, "Give me a moment." He offered no explanation, just pulled the rusty keys from the lock in the door behind him and moved to the second cell. Unlocking it, he tugged against reluctant hinges and called in, "Mr. Norwich, are you able to ride?"

The boy had heard the sounds and voices and was standing near the door when Standish opened it. He wasn't sure what was going on, but didn't mind waiting to ask. He just nodded his head and followed the well-dressed southerner to the main room of the jailhouse.

Grey had remained silent and relatively motionless the whole time but when he realized that six hundred and fifty dollars was about to slip right through his fingers he decided it was time to do something. When Vin had looked to Ezra to check on him, Hamilton slid a hand under the jacket that was his makeshift pillow and grasped the hilt of his bowie knife.

The hunter waited until Tanner's attention was pulled away again at the sight of the second prisoner and made his move. Rolling toward Vin, Grey hit the tracker at his shins. The force knocked the lean man back into the wall behind him and a bright flash and the thunder of Vin's Winchester as it discharged filled the room.

When Vin noticed the second figure with Ezra his eyes flicked from the two men on the floor. The blow that caught him below the knees caused him to tip forward slightly before careening backwards. His muscles tightened and as they did he involuntarily fire his weapon. His head thudded hard against the jailhouse wall and the little white stars that dotted the blackness of Tanner's vision blinded him for several seconds.

Grey moved quickly despite his stocky frame; scrambling to his feet he lunged for the stunned figure that still held the sawed-off rifle. Ezra's eyes caught the movement of the man on the floor by Vin's feet as soon as Hamilton rolled himself sideways. Unfortunately, it also put his line of vision directly at the end of the Mare's leg as it went off.

The gambler saw a bright white fill the room and some part of his brain calmly thought about how long the flash was lasting. He was totally unaware of the man with the knife that had just risen to stand between him and Tanner.

But Nathan wasn't. He saw the man responsible for his bruised eye and lacerated cheek and saw that same man going for one of the individuals responsible for his release. Norwich bolted forward. Grey's attention was on Vin, consequently he didn't expect an attack from the right.

Nathan grabbed Hamilton's right wrist and allowed the momentum of his rushed tackle to carry them both back, tumbling to the floor.

Vin shook his head to clear his vision and saw Grey and the smaller man that Ezra had release wrestling on the floor in the middle of the room. The tracker was about to step in when he heard a loud grunt and a sharp exhale of air. For several seconds a tense silence took over the room.

Then, the sudden scramble of Nathan attempting to put as much distance between himself and the man on he floor broke the eerie calm.

After the crack of the rifle and the white flash that had accompanied it, Ezra stumbled back till his shoulders met with the unyielding wood of the cell door behind him. He sensed Nathan rush forward and heard a struggle of some sort; but even as the room fell silent Standish was still unable to clear the blinding stars from his vision.

He heard someone move quickly across the dirt floor, then rapid, shallow breathing, followed an instant later by what the gambler assumed to be the same person vomiting.

"Vin?"

Tanner responded with the same words he had directed toward Ezra less than two minutes earlier. "Ya alright?"

"I believe I would be better if I hadn't been staring at your Winchester when it went off."

It took Vin a moment but as he watched Ezra blink hard several times and hold his hand inches from his face before lowering it with a disgusted wince the tracker realized what Standish was talking about.

"Can ya see anything?"

"You mean besides the large white sparklers?"

Ezra heard Vin curse softly and holster his weapon, "Give it a bit, it should pass."

"Should?" drawled the southerner sarcastically, relaxing against the door at his back, "What did I miss?" He could still hear distressed breathing across the room, though it was softer now and accompanied by an occasional sniffle.

Vin moved through the moonlit room till he found Grey's lantern and the box of matches next to it. Lighting the lamp he surveyed the scene and cursed again.

Ezra's white vision was starting to make him very uncomfortable and he worked to keep the tension from being apparent.

"Vin?"

He could hear the tracker moving around the room. "Well, 'Mr. Tanner', it don't look like you're gonna have to be worryin' about makin' any unplanned trips to Texas anytime soon. You may have caught the flash but ol' Rueben here caught the other part, mostly with his face."

For a second Ezra was thankful he couldn't see. "And the other?"

"No luckier, got a knife stickin' out of his chest. Guess I owe you a thanks for that one." The latter comment was directed away from Ezra, to the pale figure still sitting with his back against the front door of the jailhouse.

Standish suddenly realized the boy had yet to say a word. "Mr. Norwich?"

The reply was soft and distant, "I wasn't trying to kill him. He had the knife…we fell back…he.."

Vin's own quiet voice cut in, close to the boy's. " 's alright, son. It was an accident."

"The judge isn't gonna believe that!" The young man's voice rose in pitch and Ezra could hear the frantic edge.

Standish interrupted with his own gentle drawl, "That, of course, is assumin' a judge were to even become aware of the incident."

Ezra sensed that both Vin and the young man were waiting to hear what else he had to say. "My suggestion is that we gather ourselves together and ride back to Los Partas where, after a night's sleep, I shall inform the deputy of this evenin's events."

Norwich began to stammer, "He's just gonna…"

The gambler cut him off, "He will believe exactly what I tell him." He paused for a second, feeling awkward being unable to see who he was speaking to. "Perhaps I should enlighten you as to your present company, Mr. Norwich. Mr. Tanner and I are two of the circuit court judge appointed peacekeepers for the town of Four Corners.

"We conducted a prisoner here for transfer. Through a series of misunderstandin's the two…gentlemen here, mistook me for a man wanted in Tuscosa. My partner attempted to liberate me which ended in the recent unfortunate events and, through no small fault of their own, the demise of Misters Grey and Craft."

"I'm sure Deputy McColm will have no reservations releasin' their prisoner to two upstandin' representatives of this area's law enforcement once I assure him that we will escort you the rest of the way to Texas."

"Ezra?" Vin's voice rose in a warning tone. He wasn't sure what the gambler had planned but he was pretty damned certain he wasn't going to like it.

"Forgive me, Mr. Tanner. Did I neglect to mention that we would be makin' our way to Tuscosa by way of Four Corners? However, once there, I'm sure there would be numerous responsibilities which would require our attention, Vin. Why, who knows when we would have the opportunity to get to Texas."

The young voice by the door stuttered a reply, "You're not taking me in?"

"I don't see where that is our responsibility, Mr. Norwich."

Vin spoke up, "Hey, kid, how 'bout if you saddle up a couple of them horses out there, think you could do that for me?"

Ezra heard the boy rise and the heavy door open, "Yeah, sure, no problem."

Vin waited until the door closed and the boy was around the corner. "Ezra, you best know what you're doin'."

Standish was now more than a little edgy in the wake of his flash blindness and he exercised every bit of gambler's restraint he possessed to maintain a calm façade. "Mr. Tanner?"

"Don't gimme that." Ezra sensed Vin cross to him, "That boy is wanted."

The southerner was not in any mood to be second guessed, "How very observant of you. What was your first clue?"

"He's just a kid, Ezra. I don't know what angle you're seein' here-"

Standish exploded, "Oh, that is rich! To be perfectly honest, Mr. Tanner, I'm not seein' much of anythin' at the moment! And as far as an 'angle', I'm sure that it never occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, I was attemptin' to offer that boy a second chance."

"A second chance is one thing but do you even know what he did?"

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I would think that you, Mr. Tanner, could understand how that could conceivably occur."

The words struck Vin like a slap. For an instant he was angry that Standish would compare this boy's situation to his. Tanner had been set up, Ezra knew that. So why did Vin feel so defensive? Was it maybe not the other man's words that irritated him, was it maybe his own?

Why had he automatically assumed that Ezra had been out for his own gains? And why was he so quick to question whether or not Standish would be a good judge of character? Hell, if any of his friends could be relied upon for accurate intuition it was this gambler. If it had been Chris standing before him, Tanner never would have said what he did.

A severe claustrophobic feeling suddenly engulfed Standish and without thinking he attempted to put some distance between himself and Vin.

But the white sparklers that still pervaded his vision sent him on another course. Unable to see the prone form of Grey lying on the dirt floor, Ezra took two steps before stumbling, falling forward over the corpse.

Standish spat a curse as he threw himself off the body. Vin was at his side in a second, laying a hand on Ezra's arm.

"Take it easy."

Standish violently shrugged off the assistance. "I'm fine!"

Tanner remained in a crouch near the southerner but gave the other man a moment to get his bearings before speaking again. "Sorry."

Ezra swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes, his voice was soft and Vin could tell that the southerner was desperately trying to keep his emotions from surfacing. "I can't see."

Vin took a chance and rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, responding in an equally quiet tone.

"It'll pass. Trust me."

Ezra let slip a breathy laugh, "Well, with an argument as eloquently stated as that, how could I not?"

The tracker pulled Standish to his feet as the gambler spoke again. "Although, I could use some assistance in reaquirin'-"

But Vin anticipated the request and finished Ezra's sentence. "Your flask."

"There should also be a pocket watch, pistols and a fair amount of cash, as well."

Vin guided his friend to the door, pausing a second before he opened it. "A second chance, huh?"

"Less deservin' people than that boy have received such opportunities."

Ezra could just picture that damned slow grin ease across Tanner's face. "Now, I wouldn't say less deservin'. More stubborn maybe…"

Once outside, Vin led his friend to where Nathan was saddling two of the horses. The tracker sensed Ezra's unease at the need for assistance and the close physical contact but Vin was surprised by Standish's effort to accept help.

Tanner helped Nathan finish readying their mounts before conducting the satisfying task of retrieving Ezra's misappropriated belongings. With Vin riding bareback and leading Standish's horse by the reins, the three men headed to pick up Peso.

Though in the shadows of the night he appeared as no more than a dark silhouette, the tracker's dark brown Quarterhorse responded clearly when Tanner clicked a greeting. Vin passed off the reins of the bareback to Norwich before taking a place in Peso's saddle, but he maintained control of Ezra's mount.

As they made their way along the wide road back to Los Partas Nathan worked over in his mind the events of the previous hours. He tried to figure out why two lawmen were not only offering him his freedom but actually seemed to believe that he truly wasn't deserving of the bounty that had been put out for him. He finally gave in.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Well, it would have been very poor manners to have left you locked in that cell all evenin'."

Tanner knew what the boy had meant and he also knew Standish well enough to know that the gambler would never admit his real intentions to the young man. So Vin did it for him.

"Ezra's pretty darn good at readin' people, kid. If he thinks that maybe you got dealt a bad hand, well, I'm willin' to believe that maybe he's right."

Norwich looked at the tracker and tried to decipher some expression in the pale light of the half moon. "You don't even know why I was wanted?"

Vin smiled slightly and answered, not looking at the boy, "Were in the wrong place at the wrong time, is what I heard."

Nathan couldn't help but laugh at the simplistic summary of the events that had led up to his incarceration. He felt an odd sense of trust with these men, hell, probably because they were the first people since his parents died who had showed a genuine interest in his well being. And who didn't seem to want anything from him.

By the time they reached the Los Partas livery stable Norwich had told the two peacekeepers of his life over the past year. They had asked no questions, passed no judgement, just listened and seemed to understand completely how easy it was for someone to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

+ + + + + + +

It was around two in the morning and the groomsman at the stable was more than a little irritated to be roused from his sleep for a second time in the same night. Especially when he saw that the same man was responsible. But the dollar and a half bribe made it seem not so bad and a short time later three weary riders made their way to the hotel.

From the moment Ezra dismounted at the livery Vin maintained a spot at the gambler's side. He didn't speak, just offered an arm in a subtle fashion and gave direction when necessary.

Standish's exceptional silence on the trip back to town did not go unnoticed by Tanner. Whether it was reflecting a good mood or a bad one, the southerner was usually far from reserved when it came to vocalizing his opinions. And while Vin would normally have welcomed the quiet companionship, now it just managed to rekindle the concern he had been able to extinguish after effecting Ezra's release earlier in the evening.

With reluctance borne of that same concern, Vin left Ezra and Nathan in the gambler's hotel room. But not before finding reasons to stay and help as Standish slowly stripped off his boots, jacket and various weapons. Tanner noticed for the first time the slice at his friend's throat and the tentative manner with which the southerner moved and felt a familiar anger rising.

The tracker found himself regretting the death of the two bounty hunters simply because it would have been satisfying to return the punishment inflicted upon himself and Ezra that evening. Vin knew Standish would toss off any inquiries regarding his well being so Tanner exited the room with a simple parting, but one that he hoped his friend would read the intended meaning into.

"I'm across the hall. See ya in the mornin'."

Nathan offered a tired smile, "Good night, Mr. Tanner."

And an equally tired, but hopeful sounding drawl, "Thank you, Vin."

The tracker didn't turn around for the second response but smiled as he closed the door behind him. ---

Ezra awoke the next morning silently cursing the sunlight that streamed through the thin curtains of his rented room. And exactly four seconds after he opened his eyes an uncharacteristic whoop reverberated off the walls of his room; waking the young Easterner asleep on the floor and an unsuspecting elderly gentlemen next door.

When Vin met up with Ezra and Nathan for breakfast the tracker refrained from saying 'I told you so', but he didn't bother to hide the grin which said it for him. And Ezra was so positively elated to be able to see that smug smile, he didn't even bother to try to make it go away.

The gambler had been in an exquisite mood since waking and Tanner almost pitied the deputy as Ezra headed off to weave his web of half-truths and five-dollar words. While the tracker was not usually one to approve of his friend's less than upstanding tendencies, Vin regretted wholeheartedly his inability to witness the fleecing of the lawman.

Ezra's self-appreciating grin was even more obvious as he greeted Vin and Nathan saddling the horses at the livery.

Vin finished filling the canteens as he raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Guess there weren't any problems."

"It is almost disturbin' to think that the sheriff left such a rube in a position of authority. The man's about as sharp as a box a' squirrels. However, I have not managed to maintain my well bein' for this long by underestimatin' anyone, so if you gentlemen are ready…"

He lifted himself into Chaucer's saddle and accepted his water-filled canteen from Vin. As they rode out Nathan couldn't help but question the ease with which Standish was able to assure the deputy that nothing was amiss.

"You're sure he believed you?"

"Mr. Norwich, there are week-old barn kittens in Nebraska that I would have had a more difficult time convincin'."

"But what if…"

"Ah-ah, it is futile to worry over that which has not occurred. We shall burn that bridge when we come to it." Ezra flashed a smile wide enough to show his gold tooth and spurred Chaucer into a trot.

The other two men followed suit, Vin grinning and shaking his head at his friend's cockiness. "Don't worry, kid, you can believe him. 'Sides, ol' Ezra's slicker than a newborn calf."

The gambler shot a disgusted look at Tanner. "I will assume that was intended as a compliment, Mr. Tanner, and that I may accept it as such."

Nathan had witnessed several verbal exchanges of this sort between the two men and got the distinct impression that this was their way of expressing their friendship.

"At least calves are appealing, Mr. Standish. There are worse slick things that he could have equated you to."

Vin snickered quietly, "Nothin' he ain't been equated to before, prob'ly."

Ezra turned a sharp eye on both them, "I believe the road to Texas is still an option."

Nathan assumed the comment was meant only for him and did his best to suppress a smile while focusing on the scenery ahead. Vin just laughed again, the attempted threat seeming even more harmless as he thought of Ezra's unwillingness to admit to his most recent effort of helping someone. ----

They rode on through the afternoon, stopping briefly along a snaking river to rest and water the horses. Ezra and Nathan had talked through most of the day, discussing the finer points of literature, cuisine and the south. For the most part, Vin unconsciously blocked them out, riding along, silently absorbing the scenery.

Though he did find it ironic that here was a fella from the south by the name of Nathan that Ezra had still not managed to run out of things to talk about with. Yet you get the gambler around another fella fitting that same description and they have a hard time finding enough in common to fill a bread sack.

Norwich's voice broke Vin from his trance.

"Smells like rain."

Ezra stared at the young man riding next to him. "Smells like rain? What on earth does that mean, 'smells like rain'? You see rain, my dear boy. You feel rain. It is not traditionally somethin' that is recognized via one's olfactory senses."

Vin smiled at the southerner's showing of his city upbringing. "It's that smell that gets kicked up when the rain hits real dry ground. Look up ahead, you can see it movin' north, south, crossin' our path a few miles up."

Dark, hazy skies and gray vertical streaks were evident over the horizon where the sun had begun to set.

"Well, then," Standish countered, "one should say 'it smells like rain hittin' dry ground'."

Nathan looked at Tanner, "Is he always like this?"

Vin tipped his hat away from his eyes and offered a small shrug, "Usually he's worse."

Tanner ignored the dark glance cast in his direction and looked down the embankment on their right to where the river flowed. "Looks to be a decent place to make camp. Rain should be gone by mornin', and the sun'll be settin' soon; no sense ridin' in bad weather and the dark if we can avoid it."

The tracker guided Peso down to the water, this time ignoring the vocalization aimed at him. "Come now, Vin, you'll lead this young man to believe that doin' things that make sense is somethin' you're accustomed to." ----

Nathan helped gather wood for a meal fire and was impressed when Vin came back from the brush with a rabbit and some form of prairie bird. The young man was considerably less delighted, however, when he caught glimpses of Tanner skinning, gutting and cleaning the creatures. He'd never really thought about how the animals got from nature to his restaurant dinner plate.

Ezra had even assisted Vin with part of the process and though the tracker raised an eyebrow when the gambler took up the bird for plucking, he held his tongue, not wishing to discourage the help.

Standish, however, caught the move and responded without looking at his friend. "Contrary to popular belief, there have been times when I have been required to sustain myself on less than exquisite fare."

Vin, too, kept his attention focused on the task at hand, "Don't doubt that, just never thought I'd witness it." The tracker watched Standish skillfully strip the bird of its top and pinfeathers. "Shoot, our Nathan is gonna wanna check my head and eyes when I describe this one."

"He'll be checkin' your pulse first. Because it you dare attempt to breathe a word of this to anyone…I'll shoot you." The light tone in the southerner's voice was more than apparent.

The two men fell silent again but Tanner had a strong feeling that Ezra's willingness to assist with the less-than-gentlemanly chore was due mostly to one or two realizations that may have come to him since his bout with sightlessness. Vin smiled to himself, 'Yeah, Ezra, I'm glad you're alright, too.' ----

A hard boot nudged Ezra's leg for the third time.

The gambler had made an unconscious effort to disregard the first two attempts to wake him. But the third, accompanied by a familiar, albeit impatient, voice finally pulled him from sleep.

"Ezra, if ya'll don't get up now, ya ain't gettin' any breakfast."

Standish didn't bother to pull the blanket from where he held it up over his head. "All you've done is light a fire."

A small smile turned one corner of Vin's mouth up, "Yeah, and I'm goin' now to get somethin' ta eat. And the only way I'm gonna share is if there's coffee when I get back."

Ezra muttered something which was muffled by the thick wool of his blanket.

"If you show me where it is, Mr. Tanner, I'll be happy to get it started."

The tracker looked over his shoulder to see Nathan sitting up and doing his best to look awake. Vin would much rather have seen Ezra get up and contribute but he figured it would be more trouble than it was worth so he conceded to the boy.

"In my bag. And the name is Vin, kid." The tracker shook his head as he left camp, 'Larabee, you owe me for this one.'

Norwich rolled from his spot on the ground and gathered up his blankets before seeing to the coffee. Ezra did his best to return to the dreamless repose he had dwelt in before Vin saw fit to nudge him awake, but to no avail. He eventually rose, moving with a stiff slowness as the strain of his bruised ribs made itself apparent once more.

The southerner settled himself next to Nathan who was staring at the fire's flames as they licked up around the brewing pot. Ezra observed the dark shadows under the boy's eyes and the slightly creased brow that registered as a worried confusion. The gambler found himself speaking aloud the conclusion he had drawn.

"You may have them for a considerable time."

Norwich turned his head toward Ezra, a quizzical expression on his face.

"The dreams. I assume your subconscious self decided to recognize your actions of the other night."

Nathan swallowed hard and stared again at the fire. "I didn't even think about it yesterday, it's like it...didn't seem real."

He pulled absently at a lock of his shoulder length hair, "Last night, I was there, all over again." His voice fell to a whisper, "I could feel the knife going in...God, it was a dream, how could it seem so real."

"Because it was, my dear boy. And now you have two choices, either you accept what happened and believe that what you did saved the life of a good man. Or you dwell on it and wonder for the rest of your days what you could have done that would have made the outcome more palatable. Neither is easy, but one will keep you sane."

"I killed a man...the Bible says--"

"The Bible says a great many things, but I, however, have never been in a saloon and found the Good Book in a dark corner attemptin' to erase with whiskey the memories of its actions."

Ezra paused and for a brief moment wished Josiah were there. For as convoluted as that man could be he certainly had the gift for putting things into perspective. But the preacher wasn't there and Standish would be damned before he'd allow this boy to let the saving of Vin's life become some sort of albatross around his neck.

So the gambler drew from his own experiences and spoke softly to the young man. "I certainly don't profess to know the unequivocal definition of what is right and what is wrong, but I do know that those dreams will go away in time, that they will seem less vivid.

"You may, at some time in your life, do somethin' to cause them to resurface. But how you deal with them now, that I do know, will effect you for a very long time."

Ezra rose from the ground and stretched carefully, "I, personally, am glad you killed the son of a bitch. Otherwise it would be one of us out there attemptin' to retrieve some form of breakfast from this wasteland."

The southerner made his way to the edge of the river to wash and hoped that his words would help guide the boy in a good direction.

A shot suddenly echoed across the plain, followed closely by a second. 'Yes, sir. Very glad.' ----

Vin returned with two birds and as Nathan stood staring at them, the boy came to the conclusion that he wouldn't have been able to name the fowl if his life depended on it. Of course, excluding chicken and duck, Norwich wasn't sure what other game birds he would be able to identify.

But a lack of knowledge hardly deterred the boy, and he offered to help Tanner pluck and clean their breakfast. And while it took Nathan double the time to strip his bird, Vin made sure to let the young man do it himself, offering only the occasional word of assistance.

+ + + + + + +

Two hours later the trio continued their way westward. The path they were on had narrowed considerably. Instead of flat ground, the road now consisted of a rough slope of sparse foliage and rock to their left and a steep grade that led to the river on their right.

The mud that pulled at the horses' hooves made it apparent that the torrents Vin had pointed out the previous evening had fallen for most of the night. Ezra was surprised it hadn't shifted course in the night to soak them while they slept. 'Perhaps things are looking up.'

"We best get off and walk." Vin had already pulled Peso to a stop and was dismounting. He noticed that Ezra hadn't made a move but was instead staring at him with an incredulous expression.

"Walk?"

Vin shrugged, "You wanna risk Chaucer slippin' and ya'll takin' a ride to the water, go ahead. Just lemme get ahead ya a little."

Standish knew Vin was right, hell, he had just about come to the same conclusion himself when he had seen Peso's footing falter. But denial had been so much more comfortable. The gambler sighed heavily and eased himself from his saddle, noticing that Nathan was already standing beside his own mount.

Ezra rolled his eyes but said nothing as they began guiding their animals along the trail. The thick mud that had been generated when the rain ran down the slope on their right sucked at Standish's boots and clung to the cuffs of his pants. 'Things are looking up, alright. Up into the gaping maw of Hell.'

"Awww, wait."

Ezra turned to see Nathan standing awkwardly about fifteen feet behind him. The young man's trousers were mud-caked from the knees down and he shook his hands in an attempt to rid them of the muck he had accumulated catching himself from the slip.

Vin looked past Ezra, "Ya'll right?"

Norwich offered a weak smile, "Only managed to wound my pride."

Tanner seemed satisfied with the answer and turned, taking a step forward. Only it was a much larger step than he had anticipated.

His right foot landed solidly enough, it was the ground beneath it that began to slide. The tracker felt his leg collapse beneath him. Releasing the hold on his horse's reins Vin reached out in a futile attempt to catch himself, or at the very least, stop himself from sliding.

Ezra had turned to see Peso bolt forward and Vin nowhere in sight. But a second later the gambler was busy with problems of his own. The weakened edge that crumbled beneath Tanner was the same one Standish had stopped on.

The southerner's actions mimicked his friend's as he lost the grip he held on Chaucer's lead and tried desperately to grab hold of anything that would halt his sudden slide down the steep grade. The terrain blurred past and the rain-weakened slope offered no resistance to Ezra's body as fell.

On the ridge, Nathan watched helplessly as his two companions dropped out of sight. One second they were there, the next - gone. Their horses had reacted immediately, charging forward to escape the shifting ground beneath their feet.

But as the large animals pushed off, their powerful legs shoved more weight against the already tumbling earth, sending more of the thick soil downward.

Vin tumbled sideways, the loose ground dragging him like a rag doll while he reached for something, anything to help him stop. But it was none of his own effort that halted his slide. He struck the large rock with a violent jolt and exhaled sharply as the air was forced from his lungs.

The tracker lay on his side facing down the hill, his stomach against the rock. Nathan saw the second wave of heavy dirt but it was Vin that took the brunt of it. Tanner was struggling to regain his breath when a force from behind slammed him harder against the granite.

Ezra had managed to slow his own decent, coming to rest face down, a few yards parallel with Vin. The southerner raised his head to get his bearings and caught a glimpse of his friend. But the sight did nothing to alleviate his unease.

Standish could see Tanner's head, left shoulder, arm and only as far down as the tracker's hip. Everything else seemed to be buried in dirt. But the gambler breathed a quiet sigh when he saw his friend pushing with his free hand against the large rock.

Until he noticed the desperation of the movement.

In a second, Ezra realized what he was seeing. Vin couldn't breathe. The second wave of dirt pinned Tanner against the stone that had stopped his downward slide and effectively prevented him from taking in a much need breath.

Ezra pushed himself to his hands and knees but cried out as a sharp pain jabbed through his right wrist and up his forearm. He collapsed back into the mud, curling his injured wrist against his chest before forcing himself to his knees again.

Standish scrambled to where Vin lay. The tracker's eyes were wide and his face red as he continued to struggle to free himself. With his left hand, Ezra began clawing frantically at the dirt around his friend's back, trying desperately to push away the dirt wall that prevented Vin from expanding his lungs.

On the trail above them, Nathan watched, unsure of what to do. He could tell that Ezra was injured and Vin's dire situation was all too apparent. The young man reactively made an attempt to ease his way down the slope but his first step sent another small wave of soil sliding toward the two men.

Ezra sensed it rather than saw it. Looking upward he noticed Norwich attempting to join them, he also noticed yet another chunk of the trail they had just been standing on crumble under the boy's weight.

"NO! Get back! Away from the edge!"

The young man froze at the gambler's demands. The last thing Ezra needed was more of the damned hillside to fill in what little progress he was making to free Vin. The southerner didn't bother to see if Nathan followed his orders. He had only one thing on his mind.

Vin knew that Ezra was behind him, trying to push aside the wall that held his lungs compressed. And even as the blackness closed in around his vision, Tanner struggled against it, not wanting to give in without a damn good fight. But the dark blanket was stronger, finally enveloping the tracker and releasing him from the intense pressure in his chest.

Ezra turned his attention from the young man on the ridge to the one encased in dirt next to him. And though he wouldn't have thought it possible, his fear grew.

Vin lay, his left arm now limp, still resting on the rock that he had attempted to use for leverage. His head had slumped forward and long dark hair partially covered his face. He wasn't moving.

Ezra gritted his teeth and hissed a defiant oath at Nature, "No." The fear that grabbed at him earlier, fell away, replaced by an intense anger. Through his desperate clawing Standish had managed to push aside most of the earth caked around his friend's torso.

The southerner bit his lip against the pain that radiated from his right wrist and slid the arm under Vin's body. He wrapped his other arm under Tanner's free one and secured as firm a hold as he could across his friend's chest.

Shifting from the position on his knees, Ezra dug the heels of his boots into the ground and pulled with every ounce of strength he had. Suddenly, he felt himself jerk backwards as the packed dirt relinquished its hold on the tracker.

Standish let out a gasp as Vin's limp form landed solidly across the southerner's bruised ribs. Ezra lay back in the mud, his arms still wrapped around his friend.

He felt it with his left hand first; a wide expansion of the now free chest, followed by two more and then finally the rest of the body stirred.

With a groan, Tanner made a move to roll away from his rescuer, unfortunately, he rolled right. As he pressed against Ezra's injured wrist Vin felt a searing pain stab at the front of his left thigh. It would have been hard to gauge whose yell was louder.

Ezra jerked away from Vin, sending the tracker rolling downhill slightly. Tanner caught himself, his hands digging into the earth as he hissed against the pain in his leg. They each lay still for a moment, breathing heavily and trying not to focus on their respective discomfort.

A worried voiced called from above, "Are you okay?"

Ezra didn't even attempt to stifle the giggle. Laying nearly sixty-five feet down an unstable incline, caked in mud, while hundreds of little needles jabbed into the muscles of his right wrist. Oh, he was in fine condition.

The southerner replied, mustering a feeble, "Delightful," while struggling to sit up. But as he did he realized why Vin had not offered a reply.

The tracker lay on his side, both hands clutched around the spot of his left thigh where Ezra could see three inches of stick protruding from the soft flesh.

"Dear Lord."

"Yeah," gasped Vin in agreement.

"Don't move."

"Wasn't plannin' on it."

The fabric of Vin's pants had been torn away and blood flowed freely from the tracker's wound. Ezra looked up the hill to where Nathan stood, the concern evident in his face. The boy couldn't see exactly what the problem was but he sensed it was serious.

"What's wrong?"

Ezra slid over next to Vin to inspect the damage. He lay what he hoped would be a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Since Mr. Tanner's first attempt at suicide failed, he apparently has managed a back-up plan and hopes to bleed to death from the piece of wood that is now imbedded in his leg."

Standish pulled his flask from the inside pocket of his mud-caked indigo coat and unscrewed the top, passing it to his friend before he continued. "Do you have the horses?"

"They're tethered, there's a clump of trees a few yards down trail."

"In my bag there are two shirts, retrieve those and a canteen."

The young man disappeared, returning a few moments later with the requested items. He again attempted to make his way to where his companions lay but as before, his step downward forced a layer of rain-softened soil toward the two men.

"Stop!"

Vin and Ezra had shouted in unison causing the poor boy to jerk back. Norwich stepped away from the edge cautiously before wrapping the fine white shirts around Ezra's canteen and tossing it down.

Standish winced as he looked again at Vin's wound; it was filthy and still bled profusely. The southerner knew that cleaning and bandaging was the most important task, but having the use of only one hand was going to make it difficult.

"I may require your assistance for part of this."

Vin took another long pull from Ezra's flask and attempted a grin. "Shoot, I'm used to doin' it myself. Don't find too many doctors when you're huntin' buffalo in God's country."

The gambler flushed the wound with water, hoping to rinse away what grime he could and muttered a reply. "And since we've crossed the border into Godforsaken country, I'm sure there's even less of a chance of finding one."

"C'mon, we can't be many miles from Four Corners."

Ezra gave his friend a knowing look, "As I said, Godforsaken country."

Vin shook his head and smiled; taking a long drink he finished off the rest of the Scotch whiskey. He had been surprised there was any left at all after the way Grey had been pulling from it.

Standish was silent as he used Vin's knife to cut into the fabric of one of his dress shirts. He passed the cloth to Tanner, trading him for the flask, and tried not to watch as the tracker ripped the expensive shirt into long strips.

Working together, they wrapped the makeshift bandages around the vicious wound and packed the second shirt tight around the small piece of wood, in an attempt to stabilize it. It didn't appear to have gone in more than an inch or two but both of them knew that removing it would only cause more blood flow and increase the already great chance of infection.

Ezra's face held little expression other than concentration and Vin couldn't help but wonder what it would have taken, if anything, to get the 'old' Ezra Standish to have done what he was doing now.

Kneeling in the dirt, in, as he had phrased it, Godforsaken country, unhesitatingly sacrificing fine clothes and finer whiskey for someone whom he most likely would not have been able to look far enough down upon two years earlier.

The southerner did still take every opportunity to remind the men he rode with of their uncouth, uncivilized behavior, but Vin was sure that if it every came down to it, Standish would not hesitate to defend any one of the other six's characters. 'You just keep up that front, friend. Your secret's safe.'

A slight smile turned up one corner of Vin's mouth. Ezra remained focused on his task but responded, as if reading Tanner's thoughts.

"I will require recompense for this, I assure you."

"Sure, Ezra, whatever."

This time, the gambler did look up. "I am serious."

"Uh-huh."

"These were from New York."

"I'm sure they were."

"Would you please stop that grinnin'."

A young voice from the edge of the trail interrupted them. "Can I do anything?"

Ezra started to answer but Vin cut him off, "Nothin' to do, kid. 'Less you can make the sun dry this hillside faster."

Standish stared at his friend. "What do mean 'nothin'? You don't think maybe a rope would be most useful?"

Vin shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable. "Not yet. If we wait a few hours the heat'll dry up a lot of this moisture, and it'll be a lot more stable."

"A few hours?? Oh, I am in hell."

Tanner ignored the gambler and called again to Norwich. "Hey kid, you think you could make it to Four Corners?"

"Give me some landmarks and point me in the right direction."

Vin smiled at the easterner's willingness. He offered the boy the best directions he could but felt confident that the young man was capable enough to find the way. The tracker continued with his instructions.

"Get to the sheriff's office, if nobody's there, check the saloon. Ask for Larabee, Wilmington or Dunne. Oh, and have 'em bring a wagon. Don't think I'm much in the mood for ridin'. Make sure they bring whiskey, too. And take the horses. No sense them stayin' out here."

Ezra added a request of his own, "And if you could retrieve Vin's canteen, before you go. And make that two bottles of whiskey."

Norwich stood with his hands on his hips, "Anything else, a steak dinner mabye?"

The two injured men exchanged an amused look and Ezra responded, "Rare, with caramelized onions."

"Like mine blackened…and red potatoes if they got 'em."

Nathan shook his head and went to retrieve the canteen. When he tossed down the water his face registered a hint of uncertainty. "You're sure I should leave?"

Ezra laced his voice with as much sarcasm as he could, "Oh, please do. I'm sure, until your return, Mr. Tanner's sage advice will keep us well. Here in the mud. On the side of a cliff."

Vin rolled his eyes, "Hardly a cliff, Ezra."

Nathan didn't wait around for the gambler's retort and disappeared from view.

+ + + + + + +

Vin shifted again, wincing, the throbbing in his leg hadn't lessened. Actually, now that the adrenaline rush had faded, the wound seemed to be hurting more and his breathing came in short, shallow takes. "Nice view, anyway."

Ezra offered a short laugh and looked down at the river that ran along the base of the incline. "It would be nicer if I were starin' at it in portrait form, in a saloon."

"Don't see how anyone can be so against the outdoors."

"Perhaps it stems from only stayin' in them durin' those times when my finances were less than favorable."

Vin glanced at his friend, he had never really thought about Ezra being that far down on his luck. The man always seemed to have a handle on his situation, always seemed to be in control.

The gambler sensed he was being scrutinized and looked at his companion. "What?"

Vin offered a non-committal shrug and stared again at the scenery. "Nothin', just thinkin' how much I been learnin' on this trip."

"Such as?"

The tracker grinned at Standish mischievously, "Such as Buck ain't the only one who's been chased away from a lady by her older brothers."

Ezra stared at his friend for a moment before the realization hit him. His confusion shifted to an embarrassed horror as he wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh, I did tell that story, didn't I?" He stared again at the tracker, "How did you remember, you had more of that whiskey than I did?"

"Had to remember, that's just too good not to tell the rest a' the boys."

The southerner fixed a slit-eyed stare on his friend, "You, I'll kill first. Then Chris for sendin' me on this enchantin' venture."

"You should probably get Josiah and Nathan, too. If they hadn't been in Sweetwater, Chris prob'ly woulda sent one a' them."

"Mental note made."

The gambler glanced at Vin and noticed that the tracker had settled back, in what appeared to be an attempt at sleep. He also noticed the arms wrapped tight across the body and the occasional tremors that shook Tanner's lean frame; the blood loss was taking its toll.

Wordlessly, Ezra shrugged out of his coat, biting his lip as a wrong move sent another wave of needles through his now swollen wrist. Though the outside indigo of the jacket was barely recognizable through the dirt, the inner lining was still relatively clean. He lay it across the chilled form and tucked the edges under Vin's body.

Tanner opened his eyes slightly when he sensed his friend's movement but closed them again when he realized what the gambler was doing. After Ezra sat back Vin offered a quiet gratitude.

"Thanks."

"Think nothin' of it…I'll add the cost of cleanin' to your bill."

It didn't take long before Vin succumbed to the pull of sleep, but Ezra couldn't help but note the intermittent shivers were still present. He laid his hand on one of Vin's and frowned slightly, not comfortable with the cold that had come when so much of Tanner's blood had been lost before the wound on the man's leg had been sufficiently wrapped.

Standish sighed quietly, eyeing his sleeping companion. "Well, when in Rome…"

Shifting himself closer to Vin, he lay down at the tracker's right side, hoping to provide some of the body warmth that his friend so obviously lacked. He'd just close his eyes for a minute.

The absurdity of the situation did not escape him and as he attempted to relax Ezra's brain offered him a final observation. 'I'm lyin' in dirt…Dante missed this level.' ----

"I heard somebody was asking for whiskey?"

Ezra sat bolt upright and a flood of memories reminded him of exactly why he was resting on the side of a dirt slope, caked in mud with a wrist that would make shuffling cards very difficult.

Larabee had suppressed a twinge of unease when he looked down the hill and saw the two unmoving forms, they had to have heard him and the others approach. Well, maybe not. From what the Norwich boy had told them Larabee's two men had not had the easiest time of it lately. They were probably exhausted.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder, gazing upward to get a look at the man the voice belonged to. He knew what he was going to see but it still brought a smile of relief to his face, nonetheless.

"It depends," the southerner called back. "Is it good whiskey?"

Chris allowed his own sly grin to show, "Nah, we drank that on the way up here."

Vin stirred, hearing his friend's voice. It had only been a few hours but the tracker swore the pain in his leg was worse than it had been before he had fallen asleep.

Tanner attempted to sit up, but the shift made him gasp involuntarily.

Ezra turned his focus immediately toward the wounded man. "You should not attempt to move." Standish hadn't meant for the concern in his voice to be so obvious, but one look at Vin's leg and the gambler forgot his usual reserve.

The ex-bounty hunter knew that between Jackson and Larabee he would be near smothered with advice about keeping still. He wanted to put it off for as long as possible.

"I'm fine, Ezra."

Standish closed his eyes for a second and sighed quietly. "Oh yes, and I am havin' such an exquisite time I cannot bear the thought of leavin'. Now, may we please cease these pathetic attempts at deceit and grasp ahold of reality."

Ezra placed a wide-spread hand across Vin's chest and forced the tracker to lay back.

"If ya'll ain't through jawin' we could come back."

It was a different voice but no less welcome. A tall black man stood next to Chris on the ridge, shading his eyes from the now high sun. "Mr. Jackson. Aren't you supposed to be in Sweetwater?"

"We got back a day early. Why, is there a problem?"

"No. No problems, we're fine. Vin? Problems?"

Tanner shot a sideways glance at his companion, "Shut up, Ezra." He looked up the hill, "Nathan, pleasure to see ya. Be even more of a pleasure if I ain't gotta crane my neck to do it."

The healer shared a smile with Chris. Just the fact that the two men were exchanging their usual style of sharp comments took a huge weight from Jackson's shoulders.

Buck came up to join his companions, his arms laden with rope and he balanced a travois against his leg. "Nathaniel will be along in a second, how is everything?"

But before either of them had a chance to answer, Ezra's voice cut in, "What are you gentlemen discussin'? Throw the rope down. Get me out of this mud!" Then, catching Vin's expression, the gambler looked to his companion, adding with a wide-eyed sincerity, "us…I meant us."

Chris shook his head, answering Wilmington's question, "Everything's normal. Let's get 'em outta there."

Larabee pointed up the trail a bit, not wanting to put undue pressure on the abused patch of earth that had collapsed earlier. "Buck, see if you can secure a line to a tree up there. Nathan, why don't you head down, check on Vin."

Buck wasn't quite sure that what he found was as much a tree as it was a glorified sapling but it was solid and strong and would give them the stabilization they needed.

Nathan waited for Wilmington to attach rope to the travois as well, before easing his way down the slope and across to Tanner and Standish. Ezra stood, jacket folded over his right arm, looking for all the world as if he were doing nothing more than waiting for a train.

The healer crouched beside Vin; not wishing to disturb the bandaging just yet, Jackson decided to forgo an inspection for the time being. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like I wanna get outta here."

"Sounds like a plan. Ezra, you mind givin' me a hand here."

Vin broke in, "It's gonna have to be just one, his right wrist is swolled up worse than a river after floodin'."

Nathan frowned slightly, realizing why the southerner had positioned his coat the way he had. Ezra took a half step back as Jackson rose.

"I assure you, it is nothin' serious, now if we could please--"

Nathan moved without warning, reaching out and yanking the gambler's jacket from his grasp. Standish gasped loudly as the action jerked his wrist and sent a jolt of pain through his arm. Ezra gritted his teeth, "That was not necessary."

"Neither was hidin' that wrist from me. Now, lemme see."

Jackson gingerly examined his friend, pressing gently on the bones and testing the movement of the gambler's fingers. "Don't think anythin's broken, most likely a sprain. Think you can make it to the top?"

"I'm sure I can manage." He scooped up his forearm rig from the ground and attempted to retrieve his coat, but was denied as Nathan held the jacket out of reach while pulling the holster from Standish's grasp. Dropping both items on the ground behind him, Jackson fixed his friend with a steady gaze.

"I ain't gonna spend time on this, Ezra. I'll hold the line taut at this end, ya'll just walk your way up."

The southerner opened his mouth to say something but Jackson just walked away; crossing to the rope, he picked up the loose end and stood ready.

Vin smiled, he could practically hear the same thought running through each man's mind.

'Damn, but he's frustratin'."

Once Ezra was up, Chris came down. He and Nathan eased Vin to the travois.

"Ya'll don't gotta do this."

Nathan refused to acknowledge the remark but Chris couldn't help himself. "Vin you've got a piece of wood sticking out of your leg and it doesn't take a doctor to tell you've got a fever coming on. So shut up and lie still so we can get you up this hill and into the wagon. And if you're real nice, I'll give you Ezra's share of the whiskey."

Tanner was clearly unhappy with the need to be helped but offered little resistance; a definite sign to Nathan that Chris had been accurate about the tracker's body attempting to fight infection.

They had him in the wagon when Vin started to drift in and out, "Where's my hat? Ain't goin' anywhere-"

"It's back there with ya, pard." Buck, now leading the team of horses couldn't help but laugh. It had been Norwich who had spotted and retrieved the weather-beaten soft brim half covered in dirt toward the top of the slope, right next to Ezra's.

Wilmington was still chuckling as he spoke again to the young man sitting on the buckboard next to him. "Nathaniel, ya saved a man's hat today…that's something to be mighty proud of."

Later that night

Chris eased himself down into an empty seat between JD and Nathan. Josiah and Nathaniel were finishing off a platter of Inez's enchiladas. Out of habit, Larabee glanced around in an attempt to spot the missing member's of his team.

JD read the expression on the gunslinger's face. "Ezra turned in already and Buck had an evening planned with Clarice…or was it Caroline?"

Josiah sat back in his chair and looked at Chris, "From what Nathaniel, here, told us I'm surprised Vin is the only one spending time at Nathan's."

Shortly after the small rescue party arrived back in town, Josiah took it upon himself to introduce Nathaniel to the town's bathhouse and a clean set of clothes offered by JD. Once settled, Norwich recounted the tale he had shared with Chris, Buck and Nathan when the four had ridden out earlier in the day.

The young man was just as honest with the other regulators about his past as he had been with Vin and Ezra. When he first located Larabee and Wilmington in the saloon Nathaniel had been vague about explaining his connection with the two men he was attempting to seek out help for. Saying only that they had offered to let him ride with them to Four Corners.

Chris sensed there was more to the boy's story but waited until they were on the trail to begin a series of roundabout questions that eventually led Norwich to explain the real way he had met Larabee's two peacekeepers.

The gunslinger knew that of all his men, Vin and Ezra had a true gift when it came to reading people; if they trusted this boy then so would he.

Larabee knew that what Josiah said regarding their resident healer's patients was too true. Standish had refused assistance for anything other than the wrapping of his wrist but Chris noted the tentative way the gambler carried himself. And though Ezra attempted to cover it with his cravat, his leader also noticed the long knife slice at the southerner's throat.

Larabee had left Vin at Jackson's clinic, unconscious from a combination of nearly a quarter a bottle of whiskey, some odd smelling herb tea that Nathan had brewed up and the sheer exhaustion of a slight fever and loss of blood.

It was never easy for Chris to see any of his men injured but when it was Vin, well, Larabee usually felt the worry a bit more.

Chris ran a hand through his short, blonde hair. "No offense, Doc, but I sure wish sometimes we didn't needed you as much as we do."

Nathan smiled, knowing what Chris meant, "Sometimes I wish the same thing myself." The healer took a sip off his beer before continuing, "Vin should be out till mornin'." Jackson knew that the tracker finally falling asleep would have been the only thing that could have prompted Chris to leave his friend's side.

Norwich remembered the queasy feeling he got when he finally saw Tanner's leg wound up close. He had been amazed that Jackson had handled it all so matter-of-factly. "He really is going to be alright?"

Nathan nodded, "Gettin' that leg patched up was the easy part, keepin' him from puttin' too much strain on it is gonna be where the trouble comes in. 'Course, you would think after the last couple of days he would welcome a little bed rest."

Josiah stood and stretched, "Well, I don't know about Brother Tanner but that sounds like a right golden opportunity to me."

Nathaniel followed suit; the preacher had offered the young man a place to stay and Norwich was happy to take advantage of more of the kindness that the Lord had seen fit to deliver upon him as of late.

As the remaining peacekeepers watched the two men leave JD spoke up with a smile, "Sure looks good for being dead."

Chris and Nathan looked at Dunne, obviously confused. JD realized they had been with Vin most of the day and most likely had not heard of the events that had transpired earlier.

"Ezra sent telegrams to the territory marshall in Tuscosa and Nations Bank of Texas, told them that," he paused as he remembered the wording, "he regretted to inform them that, suspected bank robbery accomplice, Nathaniel Norwich was killed in a mudslide during a prisoner transfer early this morning."

JD pushed some of his dark hair away from his eyes, "He also made sure that Nathaniel sent a wire to his aunt and uncle in Sacramento telling them that he would be joining them before the end of the week."

Dunne shook his head as he recalled Norwich's story of the events that led the young man to where he was now. "I don't get it, how could you be so blind to the fact that you were taking up with a bunch of criminals."

Chris caught Nathan's eye before he offered an answer, "Oh, I don't know, JD, might be kinda easy for a kid as young as him, alone in a new territory to take up with the first group that seems to show an interest in him."

JD barked a laugh, "Yeah, but group of gunslingers?"

Nathan took a drink of beer just so the glass would hide the smile on his face.

Larabee, on the other hand, didn't try to cover his grin. "Well, he'll get hooked up with his aunt and uncle real soon. I think that once a young man like that has a family to look after him he should have an easier time keeping out of trouble."

JD was still oblivious to the second meanings that Larabee was throwing out. "Sure seems like a nice kid, hope you're right."

Chris raised an eyebrow in Jackson's direction, "Oh, I think I am on this one. Stranger things have happened. Wouldn't you say that's true, Nathan?"

The healer returned his leader's grin, "I would indeed, Chris. I certainly would."

END