By Jackie

Disclaimer :- I don’t own ‘em though I darn well wish I did. They belong to you know who, I just borrowed them for a while and I’ll grudgingly give them back!

Rating :- Well, some language, but nothing really bad!

Authors Notes :- I’m a Vin girl but wrote this for some good friends of mine. Nin, Winnie and Pamela, who are all Chris girls! As always, thanks to my best pard Ingunn for always being there...unless her darn ‘puter decides to break down on her! A very special thank you to my wonderful Beta, Deirdre. Her guiding hand and gentle prods kept me right on track, and I will never be able to repay her for sharing her wisdom and knowledge. Last but not least, thanks to Julie, for helping with the injury side of things…I owe ya pard!

Author :- Jackie

Feedback :- Ah hell, why not! But flames will be quickly extinguished.

The day was warm, the breeze was soft and the town was quiet: so Vin Tanner was happy. He took a deep breath as he stopped walking and leaned against a post in his all too familiar pose, nodding to Mrs Potter as she hurried along the boardwalk. "Mornin’ Ma’am," he smiled tapping his hat.

"Good Morning Vin…and what a nice one it is." The large woman replied, returning Vin’s smile as she passed.

"Sure is." Vin answered, half to himself. This was just how he liked things to be. Quiet…warm…almost serene.

He cast his eyes up and down along the street and then slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his harmonica. As he raised it to his lips his eyes caught sight of movement on the roof opposite. Lowering the instrument he narrowed his eyes as he wondered at what he saw.

Chris Larabee was standing on the edge of the roof, hardly moving. His face was set in a serious line and his stance suddenly had Vin worried.

‘He wouldn’t would he?’ the tracker asked himself as he pushed himself from his leaning position. 'Not Chris. He wouldn’t do that.’

He kept his eyes trained on the dark figure on the edge of the roof as he made his way across the street.

"Vin! Look out!"

Tanner felt himself dragged from behind and pulled backwards just before a wagon hurtled past in front of him. He took a few deep breaths to steady his heartbeat and then focused on the words being reeled off at him.

"That was a darn fool thing t’ do. You nearly got yourself killed. What were you thinking, Vin?"

The tracker blinked once, then twice before he finally registered that it was Buck who had rescued him.

"’m sorry Bucklin, had somethin’ on m’ mind." He answered finally.

"Yeah, and it was almost a horses hoof." Buck responded wryly, finally releasing his hold on Vin.

"Thanks Buck, ‘preciate it." Vin raised his eyes upwards, sensing a glare being directed at him, and sure enough, there was Chris, still on the edge of the roof, but now he was looking at the scene below and looked none too happy.

Vin turned back to Buck. "I gotta go, see ya later in the saloon?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Vin." Buck eyed the tracker curiously, wondering what had gotten into him. He was acting strange, and the rogue didn’t like that. He watched as Vin walked to the other side of the street before turning away.

"Please don’t let this turn ugly." He said aloud to himself. "’Cos I do hate ugly."

Vin carried on through the building and up the back stairs slowing to a halt as he reached the roof. He looked around him until his eyes rested on Chris’s back. The gunslinger was still standing on the edge, looking straight ahead; so still, he could have been mistaken for a statue.

Vin sighed softly, wondering what he was going to say. He still didn’t quite believe that Chris was contemplating what Vin thought he was. Not Chris, he was too strong for that…or was he?

Vin knew that Chris had been having a hard time with memories lately. He and the other five knew when to leave him to his own thoughts, and give him his own space. Buck had told him that Adams birth date was drawing near and it was only a matter of weeks after Adam’s birthday that he and Sarah had been killed in the fire.

He made his way as quietly as he could until he was standing a few feet behind his friend. He frowned as he tried to decide how to open a conversation. Finally opening his mouth he readied himself to speak.

"Trying to get yourself killed, Vin?"

The Texan shut his mouth again as Chris’s words penetrated the stillness.

"Why? Are ya gonna shoot me?" Vin asked, immediately wondering whether he should be joking at a time like this.

"I meant the wagon…down there." Chris answered impatiently. He still hadn’t moved and Vin took a step closer.

"Yeah, that was kinda stupid huh? Tryin’ t’ kill m’self." The tracker said tentatively.

"Yeah, not like you." Chris’s voice was quiet and Vin took another step closer.

"Yeah, not like you either right?" Vin winced at that. Why was it he felt cool, calm and clear headed when he was staring death in the face, but when he was trying to talk to a friend who was disturbed in some way he got all tongue tied and said ridiculous things?

Chris said nothing and so Vin moved until he was standing alongside him. "Got somethin’ troublin’ ya, cowboy?"

Chris finally moved, turning his head towards Vin. "Only you." He said, his lips twitching at the corners.

Vin smiled too. "Well ya know, I can leave…but I don’t really think that’s a good idea seein’ as ya might need me t’ save ya."

"Now where would you get the idea I need savin’?" Chris asked with a frown. He was wondering why Vin was acting so tense and nervous around him, he didn’t usually.

"Well, ya know…if ya took it t’ mind t’ jump or somethin’."

"Jump?" Chris turned his body until he was facing his friend. "Vin, what are you talkin’ about?"

"Well, you looked like ya were gonna jump…I just figured I wasn’t about t’ let ya do that."

Chris looked from Vin to the ground and back again. "Vin." He began, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "If I had a mind to kill myself, I wouldn’t jump off a building."

"Well then." Vin nodded his head. "That’s good then. Reckon that’s all put t’ rights."

"Reckon so." Chris smiled a small smile at his friend. "Did you really think I was gonna jump?" he watched Vin nod his head guiltily.

"Because I’ve been thinkin’ on Sarah an’ Adam?" Chris asked, as realization struck.

"Well yeah, I guess. I knew ya had ‘em on yer mind an’ all the last few days. Couldn’t really believe y’d kill yerself…but the way ya looked when I saw ya…kinda haunted."

Chris sighed heavily. "Yeah, I guess it could have looked like that. I came up here ‘cos I was wonderin’ how much of the town you could see…you know…in case we needed a scrawny Texan sharpshooter up here any time." Both men shared a laugh. "I guess I kinda got lost in thought about Sarah an’ Adam. They enter my head at the strangest times Vin, an’ when I get a picture of ‘em there, I try and concentrate as hard as I can so I don’t lose it…I guess I’m scared I’ll forget what they look like…sometimes I do have trouble rememberin’."

Vin nodded but said nothing. If Chris wanted to continue, he wasn’t about to get in the way.

"Thanks for carin’ enough to come up here Vin, means a lot to me." Chris continued slapping his friend on the back.

"Hell, ain’t nothin’." Vin answered with a glint in his eye. "Ya still owe me a dollar fer that bet ya lost t’ me last night."

"You mean the one you made with me when I wasn’t listenin’ to you?"

"Yeah, reckon that’d be the one."

"Hey you two damn fools. You gonna get away from the edge before you both fall an’ land on your sorry asses!"

Vin and Chris both looked down to see Nathan, Ezra and Buck looking up at them. Buck and Ezra were grinning broadly and Nathan looked slightly panicked; the two men on the roof exchanged a look and laughed.

"Reckon we’re both in trouble now." Vin observed. "Nathan didn’t sound too happy."

"You got that right, pard." Chris agreed as they both moved back from the edge. "Sorry Nathan!" He called down with a smile.

"Yeah well, so ya should be. It’s not enough I have to patch ya up when ya get hurt in a shoot out or somethin’, now ya go an’ tempt fate."

"Reckon we better get down from here, Chris."

"Yep, reckon we should."

The two friends made their way towards the steps. "Hey, I was thinkin’ of headin’ out to my cabin for a couple of days, seein’ as its quiet right now. Wanna come help me with the barn roof?"

"Since when did you have a barn?" Vin asked as they reached the stairs.

"Since I built the damn thing." Chris answered.

"Didn’t tell me." Vin began to descend down the steps.

"Don’t have to tell you everything…you comin’ or not?"

"Hell yeah. I wanna see this barn o’ yers afore it falls down."

Chris kicked out with his foot barely missing Vin’s head. He felt better now. The thoughts that had entered his head on the roof were intense, and if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure what he would have done if Vin hadn’t arrived when he had.

Watching from a distance, Buck waited for the right time to approach Vin. The tracker was at his wagon gathering together a few things for his trip to Chris’s cabin, and the gunslinger and he were talking. The rogue finally got his chance when the blond slapped the other man on the shoulder and made his way towards the General Store. His efforts at hiding his anxiety were betrayed by his tentative steps.

"Hey Bucklin, ya got another husband after ya, or are ya in a hurry t’ get t’ yer next conquest?" Vin asked.

The ladies man ground to a halt at the tracker’s side and slumped his shoulders. "So much for tryin’ to be casual like." He said wryly.

Vin laughed. "Hell Buck, ain’t no way that’ll ever happen." His brows drew together when he noticed the harried look on the rogue’s face. "Somethin’ ya need pard?"

Leaning against the wagon Buck’s troubled blue eyes looked at the ground before meeting Tanner’s steady gaze. "I need to ask a favor of you, Vin."

"Ya need another alibi?" Vin chuckled "Folks are startin’ t’ talk…wonderin’ how I can be in so many places at once."

The tracker looked up from his sorting and the smile fell from his lips when he saw the rogue's tense features. "Hell I’m sorry Buck, reckon I’m jumpin’ the gun. Spit it out." He stopped his packing, waiting for his friend to speak.

"I wanted to ask you to look out for Chris." Buck started, "Hell, I don’t mean for you to watch his back, I know you’ll always do that..." He stopped and pulling off his hat he ran shaking fingers through his hair. Placing the hat back on his head he turned two pleading eyes on Vin. "I just mean be there for him, talk to him. The hurt he’s carryin’ inside has festered for too long. He needs someone to confide in, so he can heal an’ move on." Buck stopped again and dipped his head. "It was me once…"

"Buck..." Vin began but stopped when Buck raised his hand.

"It’s alright Vin. I thank the stars every day since the day you two met. I truly believe you saved his life, Vin."

Vin felt guilt wash over him as he listened to Buck’s words. He never wanted to come between Buck and Chris; all he wanted was to be one of the seven. He’d found six good friends who were almost like family, and that was something he’d been looking for most of his life.

"Hell Buck, don’t sell yerself short." He sighed and his blue eyes showed his high esteem for the man before him. "I ain’t disputin’ that me an’ Chris aren’t close, but ya been part o’ his life fer ten years or more. Ya helped him through the worse time in his life and pulled him back from hell more n’ once." He paused and smiled at the embarrassed man in front of him. "Ya got a past with him Bucklin, an’ that’ll always mean somethin’ to him. Don’t ever forget that." He leaned forward and patted the other mans arm not missing the grateful look in the deep blue eyes.

"You’re a good man, Vin…thanks."

The two men leaned silently against the wagon for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Well, think I’ve held you up long enough, I’m gonna go have another stab at beatin’ Ezra at poker." Buck pushed away from the wagon and turned soft blue eyes on Vin. "You take care you hear? An’ Vin?..." He tapped the sharpshooters chest with his finger. "You got a way of talkin’ right from here, an’ those words always find their mark." He nodded and smiled gently "I know Chris’ll be safe with you."

Vin nodded. "I’ll try m’ hardest Bucklin."

"Hell, I know you will." Buck slapped his hand on the sharpshooter’s shoulder before spinning around and walking purposefully towards the saloon.

With a heavy sigh, the tracker returned to his packing, with Buck’s words weighing heavy in his mind. The pain in Chris’s eyes earlier was embedded in his memory, and Bucks words further fuelled his mission to end that pain, hurting right along with him until he did.

"Ready?"

Vin’s feet almost left the ground at the sound of Chris’s voice behind him. He’d been so caught up in his pondering, that he hadn’t heard the blond approach, a rare occurrence seeing as the two men seemed to share a special bond.

"Reckon so. I’m in a hurry t’ see this barn o’ yers. Does it match yer shack?"

Chris glared hard. "It’s not a shack it’s a cabin, and the barn is a barn. Now are you comin’ or not?"

Vin laughed. "Alrighty, don’t bust them tight britches of yers, I’m comin’." He ignored the new glare and picked up his saddlebags. Heading for the livery, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning as Chris drew up along side him.

"One o’ these days Tanner, I’m gonna pay you back for all your smart ass words."

"Y’are?" He raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Asked the cavalry t’ help ya with that?"

Chris decided not to waste his energy on another glare and the two men entered the dark livery with smiles on their faces.

"Hey, I hope Peso doesn’t take it into his head to throw you today, Vin." Chris said with a gleam in his eye as he entered Pony’s stall.

"What ya sayin’ Larabee? Me an’ Peso here go way back…"

"Yeah well just as long as you remember to hold tight onto the reins Vin." A new voice advised the tracker.

"Hell Nathan, anyone’d think I fell offa m’ horse every day." Vin grumbled as he threw his saddle over Peso’s back.

Chris put his head on one side. "Maybe not every day Vin…how about every other day?"

"How ‘bout ya shut yer mouth and saddle up, Larabee?" Vin growled pulling the girth too tight under Peso’s belly.

"If you two’d stop your arguin’ for a while I can do what I came t’ do and get back to people who need me." Nathan interrupted impatiently.

"Sorry Nate, it’s them bad tempered Texans that start the fights you know." Chris said with a grin as he turned to the healer. "What did you need?"

"It’s what I wanna give you." Nathan held out a packet wrapped in brown paper. "Some medical supplies I got ready for you."

"Hell you always give us such nice stuff, Nathan." Chris joked as he took the packet and stuffed it in his saddlebag.

"You can laugh an’ joke all you like, I’m just makin’ sure you got some supplies. I know what trouble you two can get into, when you go off on your own." Nathan mumbled. "I’m goin’ now, so just be careful an’ try an’ stay in one piece alright?"

"Heck Nathan." Vin’s blue eyes showed his gratitude. "Warms m’ heart to know ya care."

"Yeah, well just make sure that heart keeps beatin’." Nate growled before he walked away.

Chris and Vin watched as the healer left the livery and then looked at each other.

"Reckon he’s taken t’ worryin’ too much pard?" Vin commented as he led Peso from his stall.

"You know Vin, this is one of them rare times when I agree with you." Chris followed Vin out of the livery with Pony in tow and the two men mounted up.

"Let’s go see this barn o’ yers, Larabee."

"Tanner, my barn is a sight to behold." Chris answered with a smile. "It’s gonna knock you straight offa your feet and onto your sorry Texan ass!" Vin rolled his eyes as the two men spurred their horses into action.

Outside the saloon, sitting at a table, Buck’s eyes followed the two riders until they disappeared from sight. He sighed and took a long drink of his beer. Wiping the froth from his mouth with his hand, he raised his eyes to the sky. "Help Vin to get Chris through this, I’m beggin’ you." He whispered to the blue expanse, just as Ezra joined him. The gambler sat down and looked into the glass of beer he held in his hand. "I’ll drink to that." The gambler nodded and lifted his glass to his lips, drinking half of its contents. Putting the drink on the table he reached into his pocket and took out a deck of cards and began to shuffle them.

The silent ride with Vin was a welcome relief, giving Chris time to think. This time of year was always hard for him, and his thoughts were heavy. Sarah and Adam had been his life and there were a lot of memories. There was an invisible hole in his chest he knew would never heal, it just scabbed over and now and again, a piece would fall away and have to heal again. Earlier, on the roof, a vivid image of Sarah holding Adam soon after his birth slammed into his head, it sucked the air from his lungs and halted his movements while he tried to catch his breath. A familiar feeling enveloped him and it was ironic that Vin thought he was going to jump off of the roof; he hadn’t been that far from the truth. He’d denied it at the time, but maybe he would have taken that fatal step, if his trance hadn’t been broken when the scrawny Texan had nearly been killed in the street below. There’d been times since the fire that had killed his family when he’d thought about ending his own life. His hand had gone to his gun more than once during those times when his despair had made him hit rock bottom and the thought of life without his family was too much to bear. He’d thought himself a coward when, instead of using the gun, he’d buried himself in a bottle. His meandering thoughts turned to Buck then, his savior in the aftermath of his family’s destruction. The rogue had dragged him from the pits of hell more times than he cared to remember and Chris’s heart filled with affection for his old friend. But the day he’d met Vin Tanner was the day his life had really taken a positive turn. The sharpshooter gave him hope, and the courage to face another day.

Shifting in his saddle, he dipped his head before looking up at the deep blue of the sky. Hell it was hot.

"It’s gonna rain."

The tracker’s statement startled Chris and he turned his green eyes to the Texan. "Vin? Are you crazy? There’s not a cloud up there, and it’s hot as hell."

"It’s gonna rain." Vin repeated. He continued to watch the trail in front of him; not even glancing at the man in black.

Chris sighed and looked away from the tracker. He’d learned long ago not to question Vin’s instincts. "Don’t s’pose we’re gonna get to start on the barn until tomorrow then."

"Reckon not."

Chris rubbed a hand down his face and across his mouth and chin. He did enjoy the silences they shared, but sometimes Tanner’s lack of conversational skills frustrated the hell out of him.

"Careful Vin, you nearly ran out of air that time, you gotta learn to take a breath in them long sentences."

"Anyone ever tell ya that yer not funny, Larabee?"

"Only you, Tanner." Chris smiled as his cabin came into view.

Vin smiled too. It felt good to be out of town for a while, breathing the fresh open air. Larabee had been far off in thought as they rode along, and when he’d occasionally glanced over at the blond he’d seen many emotions crossing his friends face. He knew he’d needed time alone with his thoughts. But he also knew that the time would come when he would need to share them. The tracker realized that was where he came in. He had no illusions; it wasn’t going to be easy.

The two men pulled up their horses outside the cabin and Vin easily caught sight of the infamous barn. The tracker’s eyes twinkled with mischief. "Hell Larabee, y’ call that a barn? I’ve seen crates bigger’n that." He couldn’t resist teasing the gunslinger even though he was impressed with the wooden structure that stood sturdy and proud, but roofless forty feet away from the cabin.

Chris bit back a smile, but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. "Don’t knock it Tanner. It beats your wagon without tryin’."

"Least m’wagons got a roof." Vin retorted, climbing from his saddle.

"My barns got half a roof, and after the rains passed, that you’re so sure is gonna come, we can put up the other half." Grabbing his saddlebags Chris walked to the door of his cabin. "I’ll leave you to tie the horses seein’ as you like the outdoors so much."

"I ever tell ya y’got a strange idea of how t’keep yer friends?" Vin called after him, but secured the horse’s anyway. He picked up his bags and headed into the cabin. "Ya sure this shack is big enough fer both of us?"

Chris was unloading the supplies on the table and looked up to glare at Vin. "You can always sleep outside. The rain’ll keep you cool."

"Yer gettin’ old, that’s yer trouble, Chris." Vin pulled out a chair and dropped into it. "Reckon yer afeared the rain’ll make them ol’ bones o’ yers creek. An’ hell, if they do, don’t get t’thinkin’ I’m gonna finish the barn for ya."

Chris pursed his lips, throwing a package at the tracker. "Here make yourself useful and fix us some coffee." The gunslinger suddenly remembered the foul tasting brew Vin made. He reached over and grabbed the package back. "On second thoughts I’ll make it after you go and fetch some water."

"Who made you the boss o’ me, Larabee?" Vin pulled himself to his feet and picked up the bucket by the door. "Heck, even yer bucket’s got a hole in it." he added poking his finger through it.

Chris rolled his eyes and grabbed a pan from the hearth. "Here, use this." He handed the pan to the tracker. "An’ hurry up!"

Vin grinned. "I’m goin’, I know how ya get when ya don’t get yer coffee regular." He ducked to avoid the tin cup Chris threw at him. Flashing the gunslinger a broad smile he hastily left the cabin.

Chris chuckled and shook his head. He knew he’d done the right thing by coming out here for a while. It wasn’t far from town, but it was far enough for him to find his own space. He could have come alone, but he’d wanted Vin’s company. He wondered at that now, after the insults he had just taken from the tracker. But he found peace around Tanner, and besides, he wanted to get the barn roof finished.

"Wipe that smile offa yer face." Vin smirked as he came back through the open door. "Saw a cloud in the sky, it’ll be rainin’ by nightfall."

"Are you gonna say I told you so?"

"Reckon not. But I’m glad there’s nothin’ in yer barn ‘cos it’d get a mite wet."

"Now who’s not bein’ funny, Tanner?" Chris stood from lighting the fire and put the coffee pot over the flames.

"Had a good teacher."

While they waited for the water to boil they finished unpacking and Vin went to settle the horses. The tracker walked back into the cabin and found Chris sitting at the table with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. "Take the weight off your feet, Tanner." The gunslinger grinned, passing his friend a mug.

"Don’t mind if I do, thank y’kindly." Vin dropped into the chair next to Chris and inhaled the steam. His eyes were closed and a small contended smile touched his lips. "I always loved that smell."

Chris didn’t answer and Vin turned two quizzical blue eyes on him. He could see his friend was lost in his thoughts and so once again left him alone with them.

The blond was deep in thought. It was something he’d been wondering about since he’d seen his two friends talking by Vin’s wagon. The conversation looked serious, and it troubled him.

"So, hows Buck doin’?"

Vin looked up, surprised by the question. He saw the expression in the green eyes and realized Chris had seen him and Buck together earlier. He didn’t want to lie to him, but at the same time he didn’t want him to get angry at the fact they were talking about him. Sighing, the tracker looked down at his mug before turning his blue eyed gaze back to his companion. "He’s doin’ fine." He knew he had to say more than that. "We were talkin’ earlier ‘bout what happened t’day. Y’know, with the wagon ‘n all." It was the best he could come up with. He wasn’t actually lying, he and Buck had been talking about the ‘‘n all’ part of the day.

"Sometimes he cares too much." There was pride in the gunslinger’s voice.

Vin smiled fondly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Yeah, reckon he does."

Chris’s eyes raked over Vin’s face and then they turned to peer inside his mug. He wasn’t sure he believed the tracker entirely, even though Buck was almost as bad as Nathan with his worrying. It just seemed that the conversation had been about more than Tanner was letting on. But the sharpshooter seemed determined not to give anything more away so he decided to drop it, he was too damn tired to pursue it anyway.

A loud roar of thunder overhead almost made both men spill their coffee and when Chris looked over at Vin he was met by laughing blue eyes and a Tanner smile.

"Told ya it was gonna rain."

"Were you a nice kid or have you always been a smart ass Texan?" Chris stood and threw the rest of his coffee into the fire.

"Yeah, reckon that’s the best place for it. Inez makes better ’n this with her eyes shut."

"Well give it here then if it’s so bad." Chris grabbed the mug from Vin’s startled grasp and went to throw the liquid on the fire, but stopped and peered inside instead. "You drank it all." He looked up at the tracker with narrowed eyes. "I should make you sleep outside for that. I’ve let you win too many times today."

"If ya do that I’ll get wet, then I’ll have t’stay inside tomorrow an’ nurse m’ cold while ya finish the barn on yer own." Vin stood and stretched. "Still I figure that won’t take long, seein’ as it’s so darn small an’ all."

"It’s big enough for what I need it for."

"An’ what do ya need it for, Larabee?"

Chris thought for a moment. "Haven’t figured that out yet." He glared at Vin in answer to the tracker’s chuckle. Grabbing a pack of cards from a shelf, he sat down. "Wanna play for money?" he began to shuffle the deck.

"Heck no, Larabee." Vin’s eyes danced. "Wouldn’t wanna see ya broke. Jist beatin’ ya ‘s enough fer me."

A small smile tickled the gunslinger’s lips. "Awful sure of yourself aren’t you, Tanner?"

"Nope, jist seen ya play cards is all." Vin picked up the hand his companion had just dealt him. "Ya deal the same as ya cook, Larabee…slow."

Chris looked up from his cards, trying not to grimace at the awful hand he’d given himself. "You tryin’ to hint that you’re hungry?"

"My bellies growlin’ louder n’ y’ do." The tracker patted his flat stomach. "I’d fix somethin’ m’self, but it bein’ yer place n’ all, I didn’t like t’ impose."

Glaring impatiently at his smug looking friend, Chris threw down his cards. "Don’t let me stop you makin’ yourself at home." He rummaged around amongst the supplies and Vin joined him in making a small supper.

They ate as the sky grew ever more stormy and dusk settled in. Two lamps lit the room and the fire crackled, sending out a welcome glow into the cabin.

Vin sighed contentedly and pushed his empty bowl away. He stretched out in his chair, two mischievous blue eyes settling on his friend. "Reckon I’ve got somethin’ll help the food go down real nice."

Chris raised an inquisitive brow. "Oh yeah?"

The sharpshooter rose from his chair and walked over to the window, aware that green eyes were following his movements. His saddlebag was slung over a chair and he reached into it, turning around and giving Chris a conspiratorial wink. He pulled out a bottle and set it in the center of the table.

"Where in the hell did you get that?" Chris leaned forward slowly, picking up the bottle. He pulled the cork and sniffed, closing his eyes in pleasure as the smell of fine whiskey filled his nostrils.

"Compliments of Ezra P." Vin sat down again, drinking in the look on Chris’s face. "Only don’t go thankin’ him, in case I got his intentions wrong."

The gunslinger’s eyes shot open and looked accusingly at the tracker. "Care to explain that?"

"I didn’t steal it or nothin’." The Texan informed his companion quickly, realizing how it could have sounded. "Me an’ Ezra were sittin’ together drinkin’." He took the glass Chris had poured for him and took a gulp, relishing the taste. He licked his lips when he saw the blond’s expectant look and continued. "He was called away. An’ when he didn’t come back I figured it was better not t’ leave it sittin’ on the table fer someone t’ take."

"So you thought you’d bring it along." Chris finished for him.

"Yeah. Figured Ezra wouldn’t mind. He already filled that flask o’ his from it." Vin shifted in his seat and finished his drink before turning two reluctant eyes on his friend.

A smile split his face when he saw Chris’s broad grin.

"You did the right thing, pard." The blond filled both glasses to the top again and picked up the forgotten deck of cards. "Now lets see who’s got the best poker face."

Dusk grew to night and the storm raged outside the small cabin while the two men drank whiskey and played cards. The fire had settled into a small red and orange glow while the lamps flickered out light that made shadows dance up and down the wooden walls. A three-quarters empty bottle of fine whiskey stood in the middle of the table and two good friends sat drinking coffee in silence. The deck of cards was scattered on the table in front of them.

"Told ya I’d beat ya. Bet yer glad we didn’t play fer money." The soft Texan words sounded loud as they filled the silence.

Chris put his mug on the table and glared warningly at the tracker. "If you tell any of the boys how bad you beat me tonight. I’ll tell Ezra who took the whiskey."

"Ah hell, he most likely knows already. So quit the threatenin’, Larabee." Vin yawned and stretched out in the chair.

Realizing how late it was, Chris stood and slapped Vin on the shoulder. "I’m goin’ to bed, you be alright in front of the fire?"

"Slept in worse places."

Chris nodded and moved towards the bed. "Vin…?" Halting his steps, Chris turned back towards the tracker, his indebted green gaze telling Vin more than words ever could. "…thanks for coming."

"Yer welcome." The sharpshooter nodded once, and the two friends held each others eyes until Chris smiled softly and moved away.

With his jacket and shirt folded on the table and his boots and gun near the hearth, Vin lay with a blanket lightly over him listening to the sound of the rain pattering on the roof. ‘Hope ya built this sturdy, Larabee, wasn’t plannin’ on a bath t’night.’ His thoughts turned to what had happened on the roof and the conversation he’d had with Buck. The look on Chris’s face when he’d first seen him up there still worried him. Vin sighed and readjusted the blanket that covered him. It was hard to shoulder the responsibility that Buck had placed on him that afternoon. What made the ladies man think that he could help the gunslinger and bring him back to town whole again? Hell, if he could he would, there was no question about it. But the man in black was good at keeping things to himself, how was he going to penetrate the shield? He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d just have to hope that, when the time came, he would know what to say. It was time to trust his instincts. With this thought he finally succumbed to sleep

Lying in bed, Chris listened to the sound of the rain on the roof, glad that he’d taken his time over the building of it. He would never have heard the end of it if the cabin had sprung a leak. He closed his eyes against the headache that had been threatening to come all afternoon. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but it was evading him. There was only one thought in his head at that moment and it made his heart clench painfully. He squeezed his eyes shut and his shaking voice whispered into the darkness "Happy Birthday Adam." One lonely tear fell from the corner of his eye and landed softly on the pillow, leaving a moist trail down the side of Larabee’s handsome face. Two more followed in its path leaving a small wet patch of material near his ear. Gulping back the grief the gunslinger opened his eyes and swiped at the moisture with his fingers. Running a hand back and forth across his aching forehead he closed his eyes again, forcing himself not to think, would sleep ever come? His question was answered in less than a minute when his breathing became even and his dreams began.

Inhaling deeply, he relished the familiar fragrance of the rain as it filled his nostrils. The fresh scent of the earth that accompanied recent rainfall always relaxed him. Almost feeling the cool moisture on his face as he thought of it, caused a smile to tug at his lips. But it died before it was born. Vin tried, but couldn’t find the peace that a cloud fall usually brought. His tired mind was troubled with thoughts of Chris, and not even the rain could do anything to relieve it. Finally, in impatience and frustration, he threw his blanket aside and sat up. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. Slowly he raised his eyes to the door, as though the outside were calling him. He blew out a breath and climbed to his feet. Grabbing the blanket, he tiptoed barefoot to the beckoning door. Clenching his teeth he pulled on the handle and opened it as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake Chris, because Lord knows that man needed sleep more than he did. His friend’s face showed how emotionally drained he was, however hard he tried to hide it with his words. Taking a deep breath as the fresh air hit him, the tracker sighed, relishing the coolness of it seeping into his lungs. Stifling the ‘Aaaah’ that almost escaped his lips unbidden, he stepped over the threshold and closed the door gently and quietly behind him. Slipping the blanket around his bare shoulders he sat against the wall and rested his elbows on his knees silently watching the rain.

The smell of smoke was so vivid in his dream that it made his stomach lurch. Sarah…there was Sarah waving to him, and Adam was by her side. They were standing in front on their home; well, the remains of their home. All that was left was a pile of smouldering timbers. Chris turned and called out to them, but as his mouth opened around the words, no sound came. He began to run back, his arms outstretched, he couldn’t leave them; he had to take them with him. As he drew close the two figures began to shimmer and grow dim. They finally disappeared as Chris lurched forward in a last desperate attempt to grab them. But his hands touched air, his fingers grabbing wildly at nothing. The scream died in his throat as his awareness returned. His lungs burned as he gasped for air. Sitting up, his chest rose and fell quickly, while his heart drummed a constant hammering in his chest. He stifled a sob, feeling the deep chasm that was opening wide inside him. Dipping his head, he ignored the sweat that dripped from the ends of his damp hair, landing on his shaking hands. "…God…" he grit out through clenched teeth. Trembling as the vividness of his dream threatened to overwhelm him. The sweat drenched his upper body as he fought to gain control of his shattered emotions. Smothered, he threw back the blanket. Turning his body, he dropped his feet to the floor. Taking another deep breath, he pushed himself onto shaking legs and wrapped the blanket around him. Desperately, his lungs sought air. He began to tread carefully across the wooden floor, but stopped tiptoeing when he realised Vin was not where he should be. Sighing heavily, he reached the door and eased himself through it, shutting it behind him. Pulling the blanket closer around him the blond closed his eyes. He rested his head against the door, trying hard to forget his dream.

Sitting as quiet and still as he could, Vin watched the rain as it fell into a puddle in front of him. He didn’t want to disturb the man who had suddenly appeared at the door. He didn’t want to intrude, but at the same time, knew that he’d have to announce his presence sooner or later. Feeling a gaze on him he turned to the silhouette of his friend. Their eyes found and held each other’s in the darkness, unable to see but very aware.

"Vin." It was a statement, not a question.

The tracker nodded, then realized Chris wouldn’t be able to see the gesture.

"Yeah." His voice was soft. "Didn’t mean t’ bust in on ya…I’ll go." The sharpshooter started to rise.

"No!"

The voice was loud. Vin drew in a breath, hearing the hope coupled with fear in that one word. The tracker settled again, gripping the blanket tighter than he needed to. He started to turn his head, but stopped as the word came again.

"No." This time it was a plea. "It’s alright…and you didn’t bust in on me, you were here first."

Silence fell once more. The rain hitting the porch and the ground the only sound.

"I was dreaming."

The Texan remained silent. The tremor in Chris’s voice told the tracker the dream was more a nightmare. He sat and waited, to see if more would come. His heart clenched painfully at the torment he could hear in the blond’s voice. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to be strong. Then opened them as more troubled, distressed words filled the night air.

"About Adam…" the words were uttered as though wrenched from deep in his soul. "…and Sarah." He lifted a quivering hand to cup his face, the fingernails of the other digging into the wooden door behind him.

Vin swallowed, hardly daring to breathe as he listened to the man…his friend, baring his all to him.

"It was so real…" he couldn’t stop the quake in his voice. "The flames and smoke…their eyes…" he dipped his head, his face contorted as his emotions overrode his desire to stay strong in front of Vin. His shoulders shook as the tears began to slide.

Vin watched the puddle grow in size. He had to say something, but what? He opened his mouth to speak, hoping something would miraculously fall from his lips without him having to think about it.

"Sometimes…" The blond’s ragged voice stopped the seated man and he closed his mouth and waited again.

"…sometimes I feel like I’m gonna fall through the hole in my gut that opened the day they died, and not be able to climb out again."

Vin felt Chris’s eyes on him in the darkness. He continued to stare at the puddle.

"There’s a knot in my stomach I can’t untie." The blond thumped his body with his fist, and Vin flinched at the hollow sound.

"My life’s empty without them." Chris ran shaking fingers through his sweat soaked hair. "I miss the feel of them, the sound of their voices…their laughter. I miss Adam’s arms around my neck, squeezing me tight. The feel of Sarah’s hair against my cheek." The sorrow almost choked him. "I remember the hope I had in my heart. I can still feel the excitement we felt at sharing our lives. The talks we had about growing old together." He dipped his head, and then raised it again, his green eyes almost flashing as he clenched his teeth angrily. "But it was all taken away from us." His voice shook and Vin could feel the tension in his friend’s body. The gunslinger slid down the length of the door until he was seated, only a foot away from the tracker. The feeling of loss burned in his gut, the hurt crushing his chest. The anger evaporated and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness took over. A sigh shuddered from his mouth before he continued. "Why did they have to die? Why wasn’t I there to save them…or die with them?"

The air left the Texan’s body in a long painful breath. The sorrow and torment seated next to him made his heartache and his blood boil all at the same time. "’Cos it wasn’t yer time, it was theirs." That wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. Gritting his teeth, he cursed himself silently. His eyes shot angry blue arrows into the puddle at his feet. His mind trying to find a thousand and one different ways to end the life of the person who’d brought Chris Larabee to the deep dark place he was buried in at this moment.

The blond turned a misty gaze to the huddled shadow beside him. He closed his eyes and swallowed the sob, when his mind conjured up a picture of the last time he’d seen his family alive. "I miss them." He stated sadly. "It’s like there’s a fire in my belly burning me from the inside, out." He rested his head in his hands before his next words found Vin’s ears. "My life’s lost it’s meaning..." He cringed at his own statement. His survival instincts screaming at him, telling him the words should never have left his mouth.

Vin felt anger burning in his belly. This wasn’t Chris talking. This was some crazy sonofabitch who wasn’t thinking before he spoke. He let out a breath. No, this was his best friend, lost in a pit of agony. Trying to find rhyme and reason for his life to carry on.

"Reckon a lot o’ folk’s get t’ feelin’ that way." The Texan managed finally. "Jist not up to us when it’s our time." His blue gaze moved from the puddle to the blond. His anger melting when he saw the dark outline. The head was bowed; the shoulders sagged. The whole image was one of pure misery, borne from the agony of the past. Vin sighed when there was no response, turning his eyes back to the puddle that was in danger of becoming a pond. It was time for him to try and help heal his friend.

"When yer born, yer given a gift." Vin stopped and dipped his head. Lifting it again, his eyes held a far away look. "Yer life’s like a piece o’ fine china sittin’ in the palm o’ yer hand." He swallowed, glancing down at the dark outline of his hand held in front of him, the fingers splayed out. "Ya take care o’ that china the best ya can. Shelterin’ it from storms, protectin’ it from rocky trails." The tracker pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. He was well aware of the rigid form so close to him. The man he was trying desperately to reach with his words. He licked his suddenly dry lips and his gaze was lost once more in the darkness of night. "Ya jist gotta hold onto it real tight, so ya don’t lose yer grip." He closed his fingers gently over his palm. "But ya have t’ be careful ya don’t put too much pressure on it, ‘cos it’d break real easy…an’ somethin’ as precious as that can be hard t’ fix. Ya jist have t’ hold on tight but gentle, and ride it out." He blinked, losing the far away look in his eyes.

"But Adam and Sarah had theirs snatched away." The blond’s bitter voice ground out. "What chance did they have to hold on?"

Vin closed his tired eyes; grateful for the fact that Chris was at least hearing him out. "They didn’t have a choice. Theirs was stolen right outta their hands." He heard the gunslinger shuffling around next to him. He braced himself for the hands he was sure were going to reach out and grab him. Or the fist that was sure to hit him in the face. But neither happened. He relaxed again and wiggled his toes when he felt the rain hitting his bare feet. Pulling his knees further towards his chest he looked up at the dark sky. "But, it don’t mean that makes it right fer someone t’ jist up an’ throw theirs away. ‘Cos when it hits the ground and shatters int’ a million pieces its gonna scratch and cut the people closest to it…a lot o’ folks’d be hurt."

Chris rested his head against his knees, wiping the moisture from his eyes with the blanket. "Maybe, sometimes it’s better to drop it." He was so lost in his aching need for his family that the words slid from his lips unbidden. A silent thought never meant to be uttered.

Vin’s heart pounded against his chest. He felt like he was going around in circles. He shook his head vehemently in the darkness. "It ain’t. Ya have t’ hold ont’ it more tight than ya ever did before. Ya owe it t’ the ones who had theirs took from ‘em. They didn’t wanna die any more’n you wanted ‘em to." The anger in his voice was short lived. His body sagged as he sensed defeat. "When ya get a precious gift put in yer hand, even if other folks lose theirs, ya don’t throw it away. Ya learn how t’ mend the cracks, ‘til ya can’t see ‘em an’ forget they’re there. Ya repaint it so’s ya can’t see where the tears washed away the colours and ya put yer fingers around it t’ shelter it from anythin’ that comes yer way." His voice cracked in emotion. "But ya have t’ remember t’ keep them fingers apart, so’s anyone who happens along that wants t’ take the time t’ look at the gift, can see it and share the wonder of it with ya."

Silence reined again as the raspy voice faded and the tracker wiped at his eyes. His nerves were raw and his soul in danger of splitting in two. The rain seemed suddenly to make a noise again. Vin moved his head to look at the dark shadow of his best friend. He heard a stifled sob and fought the urge to reach out and clasp the shoulder that pleaded for support. Turning his head again, his eyes found his puddle and he waited. Knowing that Chris had to come to him, or everything would have been for nothing.

Chris wiped at his damp eyes, a feeling of wonder enveloping him. Vin’s words were still chiming and echoing in his head. He looked down at his hand, glistening from the tears he had swiped away. The darkness stopped him from getting a clear image, but as his palm lay up in front of him his fingers slowly closed around it.

"Do you think I can do it?" The blond’s voice was unsure, hardly audible above the sound of the rain.

"No…" Vin’s voice rang out, and Chris’s head turned sharply in surprise. "I know ya can."

A slow, fond smile formed on the gunslinger’s lips. Shuffling along the dirt porch he stopped when he felt the warmth of Vin’s body next to him. The Texan looked up and, even in the dark, could see the green glow in his brother’s eyes. A glimmer of hope, and a hint of acceptance that hadn’t been there before were showing themselves in the gaze. Vin hoped that along with that a new outlook on life was being born.

"You’re one hell of a friend to have, Vin Tanner." The gunslinger’s voice was a mixture of sadness, gratitude and pride.

The sharpshooter smiled with his eyes. " I fight fer what’s worth fightin’ fer." The blue gaze turned serious again, his eyes finding a star between the dark clouds in the sky. "Jest don’t let me get scratched, ‘cos yer a friend I’m aimin’ on keepin."

Chris sat staring at Vin’s dark form that seemed more visible all of a sudden. A warm feeling crept into his stomach. He thought again how fortunate he was that he’d been in the right place at the right time to meet the soul mate at his side. A small contented smile touched his mouth as his eyes found the tracker’s favorite puddle.

"Storm’s passed." The Texan stated.

"Yeah." Chris stared at the puddle. "But it’s still rainin’."

- - - - - - - - - - -

The morning dawned with a feeling of hope. The sun shone in the sky, slowly obliterating all evidence of the previous night’s storm. Chris stood on the porch, a cheroot between his lips and a mug of coffee in his hand. His shoulders felt lighter, although his heart was still heavy with the feeling of loss. He took a sip of the dark brew and grimaced. He’d hoped to beat Vin to the coffeepot, but he’d woken to the smell of breakfast cooking and the stench of Tanner sludge that he was now attempting to drink.

Vin wrinkled his nose as the smoke floated towards him. His face screwed up and he waved his hand back and forth through the air. He coughed as he shot accusing blue eyes at the blond.

The gunslinger raised a challenging eyebrow "Rather that than the smell of your coffee." He eyed the dark brew and tossed what was left onto the ground.

"Yer an ungrateful bastard, ya know that, Larabee?" Vin grumbled. He snatched the empty mug from the gunslinger’s fingers and walked back inside. "I should make ya fix yer own darn roof fer that."

The blond lowered his head and chuckled. "We’re building the roof, not fixing it."

"Got a good mind t’ leave ya t’ do it yerself an’ head back t’ town." Vin came back outside and leaning against the wall, gulped down his coffee.

Chris wrinkled his nose. "You must have tin guts, Tanner." He headed inside. "Now stop your whinin’ and help me get the tools together."

Vin’s blue eyes twinkled. "Yer jist scared the roof’ll fall in at the first sign o’ rain if yer left t’ do it yerself."

"Yeah, that must be it." Emerging from the cabin, Chris threw a heavy bag at the tracker’s feet. "Here’s some of the tools, I’ll get the ladder."

Vin watched the troubled man walk towards the barn. There’d been no mention of the night before, except in an occasional look that passed between them. They’d both eventually gone back to bed. The dark smudges under their eyes were a tell tale sign of how little time they’d actually spent sleeping.

"You gonna stand there daydreaming or are you gonna help me with the barn?"

A wide smile split Vin’s face as he looked in the direction of Chris’s shout. The gunslinger was standing with his hands on his hips and an impatient look on his face. The ladder was leaning against the wall of the barn.

Putting the mug on the ground, he bent to lift the bag of tools. "Heck, it’s full o’ lead, I reckon." He mumbled as his back protested. Hoisting the bag over his shoulder, the Texan strolled over to his waiting friend. "I’m figurin’ it’d be best t’ take some o’ Ezra’s advice and give up on this menial labor."

"You sayin’ my barns menial, Tanner?" Chris moved his weight to one leg, his hands stayed on his hips.

"Heck no. Jist a mite rickety’s all." Vin slapped the gunslinger on the shoulder. "But don’t you go worryin’ none. We’ll have it lookin’ like a barn in no time." He winked and turned away. Climbing the ladder, he yelled over his shoulder. "Can ya hoist them tools up when ya come. I forgot ‘em."

"One day Tanner…one day." The blond threatened under his breath. Picking up the bag Vin had dropped, he grimaced. Slinging it over his shoulder he followed the Texan up the ladder.

The two friends worked side by side as the sun beat down on their backs. The sounds of hammering and sawing mixed with birds singing and the whistle of the soft wind through the trees. Vin put down his hammer and sat back. Taking the hat from his head, he wiped his arm across his sweating brow. Looking over at the blond, he watched him struggling, trying to line up a piece of timber. With a sigh he rose to his feet. "Wait pard, I’ll hold that fer ya." The gunslinger turned around and nodded, watching as the tracker made his way across to him. The beams that Chris had already laid down were still damp from the night’s rain, tending to be slippery underfoot. The Texan felt his foot slide a split second before he saw the green eyes of his friend widen in horror. He couldn’t get his balance and felt himself falling backwards, only vaguely aware of Larabee’s startled shout. His arms splayed out, trying to grab a hold of anything that would break his fall. He cried out as his body hit a beam hard. From the corner of his eye, he saw his companion hasten towards him. The next second he heard a loud crack and the blond was suddenly not there anymore. He felt air beneath him as another crack rang out, and his body tensed as he felt the roof disintegrating around him.

Watching the wind whipping up the dry earth, the big man blew out another breath. The preacher was emotionally drained. His stomach churned from the time he’d just spent at the Turner’s. The words spoken while placing the tiny box in the ground still made his heart ache.

Jed Turner had come to him two days earlier, and asked him to go out to his homestead. Nathan hadn’t been able to save their son, he was still born and the young couple’s lives were in tatters. Josiah rubbed a hand down his sweating face as he remembered the look in the young man’s eyes when he’d come to the church. He stood with his hat held tightly in front of him. His gaze showing the sorrow that only someone who loses a child could know. How could he refuse his request? All he asked was for a decent burial for his baby. So, with his heart as heavy as lead, he’d gone with the grieving man and helped to bury their hope in the ground.

Sitting in their small parlor, he realized his job wasn’t finished. He had to stay and help this couple with their grief. Emmie Turner was a pretty young thing. Her eyes were huge at the best of times, but that day, they seemed to swallow up the rest of her face. They were two blue pools with shattered dreams floating within them. Her husband was trying to be strong, but his loss was clearly seen in the slump of his shoulders. The stolen moments when he thought nobody was looking, when he would let his face crumple and then pull with all his inner strength to smooth it out again. No, the oldest of the peacekeepers couldn’t leave them like that.

He stayed that night and the whole of the next day, aiming to leave before nightfall. But then the storm had threatened and his hosts insisted he stay. Knowing it was the wise thing to do, he waited for the storm to pass and headed out at first light. Riding along slowly, his mind still saw that tiny box going into the ground, along with crushed expectations. He sighed again, watching as the dirt continued to whirl around in the warm breeze. Looking around him, he realized he wasn’t far from Chris’s cabin. Without thinking, he turned his horse in that direction. The isolation was just what he needed. Alone, he could gather his thoughts, and figure out how to help the Turners through their grief.

- - - - - -

Breathing in short, sharp gasps, he closed his blue eyes against the pain in his shoulder. The only thing stopping him from dropping to the ground was his death grip on the beam. Digging his fingers harder into the wood, he hardly felt the rough edges of the timber cutting into his hands. Slowly opening his eyes, he blinked away the wet sticky substance that was clouding his view as it dripped down his face. Blocking out his own discomfort, his sole mission became searching for his best friend.

Blinking rapidly again, he fought against the dizziness and nausea he was feeling due to his head wound. His probing grew more urgent as he felt fear rise up inside him. How could he help Chris if his own injuries struck him down? Putting the thought aside, his gaze suddenly stopped on a dark figure amongst the debris below.

"Chris!"

The loud exclamation seemed to echo around the walls of the barn. Vin shifted his hold on the beam and gasped as a searing pain shot through his shoulder. Sweat mixed with blood on his forehead as he concentrated on his friend’s form, looking for any sign of life. His heart catapulted against his chest, while his mind silently prayed that Chris was alive. He had to get down there, but how? Raising his head, he looked around, trying to find a way out of his situation. A frustrated cry was working its way up his throat. The need to get to Larabee almost making him let go and hope for a soft landing below. The feeling died before it was born. Instead, a rush of air left his mouth when his eyes settled on the top of the ladder.

His gaze followed the line of the beam he was hanging onto and a relieved smile touched his lips. Taking a deep breath, he turned his body. Grunting at the effort, he slowly released the grip of one hand and placed it in front of the other. A satisfied look crossed his face at the knowledge that his plan was working. Slowly making his way along the beam to the ladder, he tried to ignore the growing discomfort in his shoulder. Reaching the wall, he dipped his aching head and released an exhausted breath. All he had to do now was pull himself up onto the beam. So far, it had taken his weight and he hoped that wouldn’t change. Taking a deep, shaking breath, he cried out as he pulled his legs upwards until he could wrap them around the timber. Gathering all his strength, he pulled his body around so that he was hugging the beam. Resting his forehead against the wood, he closed his eyes and then opened them slowly. His gaze quickly found what he sought. He blew out a tentative breath, the unmoving body filling him with concern. Quickly pushing his negative thoughts aside, his features took on a determined look. Chris was alive; he could feel it. Telling himself it wasn’t wishful thinking, but fact, he slowly moved his aching body backwards. A feeling of relief washed over him when his foot touched the top of the ladder.

Lying on the ground, trying to stay as still as possible, the injured gunslinger concentrated on his breathing. The pain in his leg heightened with every second that passed. Opening his eyes was impossible. The hot rays of the sun pierced straight through his eyelids and hit his skull hard. He clenched his teeth tightly, as a white-hot poker seemed to run up and down his left leg. Squeezing his lips together, his breath came in quick spurts through his nose. Feeling the heat of the sun on his face, he tried to turn away from it, crying out in pain when his body protested. He heard a noise, and strained his ears to listen. He licked his dry lips, and screwed up his face when he tasted dirt. Where the hell was he? What in hell had happened? A memory flashed through his mind, jolting his body and making him cry out again.

"Vin!"

The tortured call took most of his energy. He moved his arm gingerly and placed it over his sweating forehead. "Vin." The anxious whisper was answered by a light touch on his shoulder.

"I’m right here, Chris." The tracker’s worried eyes scanned the battered body, surveying the damage. He was still getting over the relief that his friend was alive. His heart somersaulted and seemed to plummet into his stomach when his gaze fixed on Larabee’s left leg. The shinbone was jutting out of the gunslinger’s torn black pants. Running a hand down his bloodied face, the Texan turned when he felt a hand grab his.

"You…alright?" the concerned green eyes narrowed as he tried to read the other’s features. He shuddered, overwhelmed with relief that Vin was at his side and he wasn’t alone.

"I’m fine. Yer the one who fell." Raking trembling fingers through his long hair, he searched his mind, trying to figure out what to do. Remembering the parcel Nathan had given them, he looked at the gunslinger intently.

"I gotta go t’ the cabin, don’t go runnin’ off." His blue eyes twinkled despite the situation.

Chris huffed out a weak laugh. "…was just gonna practice…my tango." Groaning, he closed his eyes and turned his head away.

Patting the injured man’s shoulder, Vin rose gingerly to his feet. Closing his eyes, he waited for the dizzy spell to pass. Swallowing down the nausea, he made his way to the cabin. Throwing the door open, his urgent search quickly found what he sought.

Grabbing it, he let out a groan, his shoulder screaming abuse at him for ignoring the fact that it hurt. He cursed, as sweat seemed to seep from every pore in his body. Walking slowly to the water pump, he filled a canteen. Taking a deep breath, and wiping a hand down the side of his face, he returned to his friend’s side. Kneeling down, he looked from the broken leg, to Chris’s face. He knew what had to be done, but his stomach churned at the thought of having to do it. Two suffering green eyes stared knowingly at him. "Broken…isn’t it?"

Tanner nodded, and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "I gotta straighten it out."

Larabee returned the nod, closing his eyes for a moment when the world began to spin. "Figured as…much." It was getting harder to breathe through the torture his leg was making him suffer. "You sure…my head’s not…broken…too?" a smile lifted one side of his mouth before his face grew serious again.

Vin shook his head, his smile matching the gunslinger’s. His eyes scanned the sweat soaked blond hair, finding nothing. Exploring further, his fingers found a large knot at the back of the stricken man’s head. "...got a nice knot back there." Tentatively, he reached out and brushed some wet hair away from Chris’s forehead. Apprehensive blue eyes met resigned green ones. Each man knowing what had to be done. The tracker broke the contact and searched the ground around him. Reaching over, he picked up a smooth piece of wood and stared at it before turning back to his friend.

"Here, bite on this."

Opening his mouth, the gunslinger accepted the piece of wood Vin placed between his teeth, preparing to bite down on it. His eyes were closed and his upper body was tense as he waited for the inevitable excruciating pain.

Pulling out his knife, Tanner crawled to the injured leg and carefully cut the black material of Chris’s pants. Trying hard to ignore the gasps coming from his friend, and the ugly sight of protruding bone. Looking one last time into Larabee’s face, he answered the blond’s trusting look with a reassuring smile.

Taking a deep breath, the Texan wiped the moisture from his face with his sleeve. He winced as the rough fabric of his shirt caught the wound on his forehead. Taking a firm hold above the gunslinger's knee with one hand, he gently gripped his ankle with the other. Vin forced himself to look once more at the leg. Gritting his teeth, a loud grunt passed his lips as, in one quick, sharp movement, he pulled the leg in two different directions. The bone seemed to disappear as it was forced back into place.

The sickening sound of bones crunching, coupled with the acrid smell of the open wound, sent the tracker 's stomach into a series of flips. Closing his eyes, he fought to keep his breakfast down. He swallowed continuously until the threatening darkness and the sickness in his belly slowly died. Still holding the leg securely, his frantic eyes jumped to his friend as he remembered the stifled scream that had filled the air. The wood lay on the blond's chest where it had fallen from slack lips. Slowly releasing his hold, afraid that the bone would pop out again, he relaxed when it stayed secure. Reaching for Nathan's package, he prepared to stop the wound from bleeding,
and set the injured leg.

- - - - - -

Stretching his back the best that he could while sitting in a saddle, Josiah raised his eyes in thanks as Chris’s cabin came into sight. His subdued mood had not improved and he was fed up with his own company. Wondering whether he had made the right decision to be alone, he frowned as he reached his destination. He noticed the new barn; it’s fresh timber standing out in the sunlight. He hadn’t known that the gunslinger was building a barn, then again, there was a lot he didn’t know about their leader. Stopping his horse, he jumped from the saddle, relishing the feel of the ground under his boots. Stretching his back again, he winced when he heard the loud cracking of his bones. Walking to the door, he cocked his head to one side when his eyes found a mug on the floor of the porch. Picking it up, he walked curiously inside.

"Oh Lord."

Realizing instantly that he was not alone, he searched the cabin for inhabitants, but found none. Seeing Vin’s jacket slung casually over a chair, he surmised that he and Larabee were somewhere around. Returning to the porch, he saw a ladder perched against the side of the barn. Walking slowly towards the new building, his heart quickened along with his pace when he saw the debris strewn around the outside of the structure. Stepping over large pieces of wood, he carefully pushed open the door and peered inside. His stomach lurched at the sight that met his eyes. Vin was kneeling beside Larabee’s innate form, his hands covered in blood.

"Vin!"

The tracker’s head snapped up as the preacher rushed over to the two men. "Josiah? What’r ya doin’ here?" The feeling of relief was overwhelming, and he felt his eyes threaten to well up.

Studying the sharpshooter’s face, the older man instantly saw the wound on his forehead. "What happened?"

Tanner swallowed hard, quelling the lump in his throat. "Roof collapsed, Chris fell."

Nodding slowly, Josiah watched as the tracker started to bandage splints in place. Seeing the trembling in the younger man’s hands, he reached out and steadied them.

"Here, let me help."

He took the bandage from Vin’s grasp and the two men worked together until the job was done.

"How long’s he been out?" The preacher moved to Larabee’s head and put his hand on his forehead. It felt warm, but the sun could have done that.

"Not long." Vin answered, rinsing the blood from his hands with water from the canteen. "He was awake ‘til I set his leg."

"We need to get him inside. You alright to help?" Josiah glanced over Vin’s body for any sign of injury. Other than the cut on his head, and grazed hands, he found nothing.

"’m fine. I climbed down. Didn’t fall." He looked worriedly at the older man. "We need t’ get Nathan."

Nodding his head, Josiah rose to his feet. "Yep, but first we gotta get him comfortable, and out of the sun." he looked enquiringly at the tracker. "Can you grab his legs? An’ I’ll take his shoulders."

Without answering, Vin blew out a breath and as cautiously as he could, maneuvered his arms under Larabee’s legs. Looking at the new arrival, he waited for the go ahead to move.

Josiah moved to Chris’s head and gripped him gently under his arms. "Let’s go." The two peacekeepers moved in unison, standing as one, and began making their way as smoothly as they could towards the cabin.

Vin’s eyes never left the slack face of his friend, as he watched for any signs that they were hurting him. The tracker was finding it hard to keep a grip as they reached the porch. The burning pain in his shoulder making his forehead bead with sweat. Kicking the door open, they made their way carefully to the bed and settled Chris gently onto the soft mattress.

Glancing over at Vin, the preacher could see that the shaken man was barely holding it together. Taking charge of the situation, he began unbuttoning Larabee’s shirt.

"We need to get these clothes off." Trying to sound matter of fact, he didn’t look up at the Texan for fear that he might see the concern in his eyes. "He’s too warm."

Vin nodded, wide eyes watching Josiah. He eased the blond forward and helped the older man pull the sweat soaked shirt from his body. Flinching at the groan of discomfort that came from his best friend.

Seeing the preacher looking around him, Vin once more retrieved his knife and handed it to the big man. Josiah was relieved to see that the tracker appeared to have his emotions in check and nodded his thanks. Glancing at the pale face laying on the pillow, he blew out a breath and carefully cut the pants away from the injured body. Working together, the two men finished undressing Larabee, pulling a thin sheet lightly over his body.

Josiah looked up, sensing two Texan eyes on him.

"Seen breaks like this b’fore." Vin’s trepidation was clear in the raspy voice. "The bone stickin’ out that way." Swallowing, his troubled gaze fell away from the other man. "Infection sets in real fast."

Josiah’s pale blue eyes looked at the dipped, shaggy head. He walked to the dejected man who was sitting forlornly in the chair by the bed. "I’m gonna get some water." He reached out with his hand, ready to place it on the top of the Texan’s head. Thinking better of it, he lowered it and placed it lightly on his shoulder.

"He’s tough Vin, he’ll fight."

He knew that saying Chris would be fine…that there was nothing to worry about, wouldn’t work with the tracker. They both realized that there was a danger they would lose their leader. He received no response from the bent head and his heart sank again as he headed for the door.

Vin sat stiffly in the chair. Even the light touch of Josiah’s hand on him had sent screaming shards of pain rippling through his shoulder. He shook his head, not wanting to think about his own injury. It was nothing compared to what Chris had to deal with.

Blinking away the moisture from his eyes, Vin turned his sights from the bruises on Chris’s upper body and fixed his gaze on the closed eyes. "Yer t’ornery t’ let this beat ya, Larabee." The voice cracked as the Texan rested his elbow on the bed, leaning his head against his hand. Reaching out, he brushed some stray strands of hair back from the handsome face. "B’sides, ya can’t let that barn beat ya." He smiled, but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. "Ya know how much ya love payback." His voice cracked again. Things had happened so quickly, he was still playing catch up.

A commotion from the front of the cabin drew Vin’s eyes away from the stricken blond.

"I took the bucket, but there was a hole in it." Josiah informed the sharpshooter as he walked up to the bed with a bowl.

Vin chuckled despite the churning worry in his stomach. "Damn place s’ got nothin’ that works right."

Smiling at the Texan, Josiah retrieved a cloth from the bowl. Walking to the seated tracker he knelt in front of him and put the cloth in his hand. Seeing the questioning look, the preacher guided the tracker’s arm until the cloth was over the gash on his head. Vin winced, and would have taken it away, if the older man hadn’t held the sharpshooter’s hand in place. He turned a stern, steady gaze on the younger man. "Hold it there, don’t need you getting sick too."

Vin’s body sagged in defeat and he was unable to conceal the hiss of pain when the movement jarred his injured shoulder. The older man didn’t miss the reaction, but put it down to the cut on his head. Letting go of the tracker’s hand, he moved to the head of the bed. Picking up another cloth, he began to wipe it over Chris’s face and body.

"We need t’ get Nathan." Vin’s eyes watched the cloths progress. The smooth movements were mesmerizing and his eyelids began to grow heavy.

"I know." Continuing his task, the preacher didn’t see Vin’s body snap back to attention when he spoke. Dropping the cloth into the water he stood to his full height. Looking from one to the other of the two men he wondered about divine intervention. What would have happened if he hadn’t decided to come to the cabin? How would Vin have got help for Chris? He wiped his wet hands on his pants and sighed. Whatever the reason for him arriving when he had, he’d definitely jumped out of the pan and into the fire.

Walking once more to the tracker, he lowered onto his haunches. He rested his hand on Vin’s knee. Two sorrowful blue pools looked back at him. "I’ll be as quick as I can. I’ll take Pony, my horse is tired." He paused and took the cloth from the loose grasp and eyed the injury. Satisfied that it was clean, and no longer bleeding. He wiped at the dried blood on the distraught face. "Keep rubbing him down. Try and feed him water."

"I know what t’ do." Vin snapped, pushing Josiah’s hand away. "Jest get Nathan, b’fore…" he couldn’t say the words and determinedly blinked away the threatening display of emotion.

Josiah stood and looked down at the tracker. "Don’t aggravate that head of yours." Starting to walk away his eyes twinkled at the raspy voice that followed him.

"Y’ already did that."

Leaving the cabin, his mission took every other thought from his mind. Moving towards Larabee's fine horse, he wondered at God’s will. If this was His way of healing his anguish of the last few days, he vowed he would never ask for God’s help again. Quashing the thought immediately, he prayed for a swift journey to town.

Chris groaned, his body trying to shy away from the heat. Smacking his lips together, he tried to find some moisture in his arid mouth. Struggling to move out of the sun, he cried out as a screaming agony tore at his leg. He felt movement behind his head, and something cool touching his lips. He gulped greedily, relishing the welcome cool liquid that swam into his mouth and ran down his dry throat. Trying to move his head when it was taken away, he felt pressure on his shoulders. Sighing in defeat, he rested his head against the softness under him. His mind drifted off, too tired to fight, he accepted the heat.

Vin held the blond’s shoulders until the resisting body stilled. Releasing his grip, he sat down once more, his eyes hardly leaving the pale face. He knew he’d have to watch for signs that Larabee would reject the water. After Josiah had left, he realized that he’d let the older man take control of everything. The tracker had been relieved when the preacher had shown up. It gave him time to recover from the shock of what had happened. Catching sight of the fevered head moving, the sharpshooter frowned and picked up the cloth. Pulling back the sheet, he began to sponge down the sweating body.

- - - - - - -

Jumping up quickly, his backside hardly having touched the seat, Ezra moved gingerly around the jail. He turned a cool green glare on Bucks laughing face. "I fail to see the humor of the situation." The pained edge to his voice only made the ladies man laugh more.

"You can’t put it off much longer, Ez." The rogue spluttered. "That boils gonna take over the whole of one of them pert cheeks of yours."

"My derriere is my concern. Not yours." The gambler brought the words home with a stern look. Limping back to the chair, he settled himself slowly into it. Watching the con man as he maneuvered himself into a leaning position, the rogue wiped tears from his eyes.

"You know Ezra, it’s probably not a boil at all." Buck wheezed. Clearing his throat, he fought to bring his mirth under control.

The southerner arched an eyebrow. "Really?" Sighing, he continued. "I’m sure to regret this, but would you care to enlighten me?"

The rogue moved his closed, smiling lips from side to side until he was sure he was in control. "I think it’s a bed sore." He paused, watching the gambler’s eyebrow arch again. "You gotta admit, the amount of time you spend there, it’s logical." Buck’s blue eyes twinkled wickedly.

Ezra shot the ladies man a challenging look. "If that were the case. Then most of your body should be covered in such things." He countered, referring to Buck’s favorite pastime of bedding women.

Slapping the table with his hand, the scoundrel threw back his head and laughed. Wiping away more tears he winked at the gambler. "Guess my skin is just tougher than yours. Besides, it’s not always the same part of my body touching the sheets." Buck shot his eyebrows up and down, chuckling at Ezra’s disgusted look.

"Congratulations, Buck." Ezra stood slowly, enjoying the rogues puzzled expression. "You’re revolting insights have successfully driven me to the clinic." Walking cautiously towards the door, he stopped when he sensed a presence behind him. Turning his head slowly around, he settled a suspicious look on the smiling features. "Where might I ask, are you going?"

The ladies man grinned and twirled the edge of his moustache between a finger and thumb. "Got an appointment." His eyes danced. "Gonna see if Miss Clara can help me get a bed sore."

Rolling his eyes, Ezra moved through the door. He winced when Buck slapped him on the back. The shock waves of the contact sent signals into his sore backside.

"What the hell?" Narrowing his eyes, the smile left Buck’s lips as he watched the distant horizon.

Seeing the ladies man’s suddenly alert stance, Ezra too strained to see what had caught the rogue’s attention.

Dust rose in the distance, seeming to mark the arrival of several riders. Watching as the swirling ground drew nearer, the two men suddenly tensed when they realized what they were seeing. The horse and rider had passed them before they spurred their tense bodies into action. Forgetting his discomfort, Ezra hurried after Buck. Catching up with Josiah as he jumped from his horse at the bottom of the clinic steps, the ladies man grabbed Pony’s reins.

"This is Chris’s horse," he stated flatly. Feeling a measure of dread flood his body, he turned an alarmed look on the preacher.

Shifting his urgent eyes from one man to the other, the oldest of the seven waved a hand before turning and running up the steps. "Nathan!" The two startled men, standing by Pony, hurried after him.

Hearing the need in the shout of his name, Nathan dropped the instruments in his hands. They cluttered to the workbench, but were forgotten as the healer rushed from the room. Meeting the three men outside the door, his concerned brown eyes settled on Josiah. "What?" he asked almost desperately.

"It’s Chris." The preacher tried with everything he had, not to sound too sorrowful. All the way to town his mind had conjured up pictures of six men standing around a hole in the ground. Trying not to think of the heartrending look in the blue eyes he had left at the cabin, had been nigh on impossible. He blinked when he felt hands grab him by the arms.

"Josiah…what?" Nathan asked again. Already he was mentally cataloguing the supplies he would need.

"He fell off the barn roof. Vin’s with him." Wondering why he couldn’t string two sentences together all of a sudden, the preacher felt a firmer grip on his shoulder.

"How bad?" The gravelly voice was Buck’s.

"Bad." Josiah swallowed hard. He’d only just admitted to himself how bad it was. "His legs broke. Bone was jutting out. We splinted it."

"What about Vin?" Nathan called the words as he ran back inside the clinic, closely followed by Ezra.

"Gash on his head. He was acting like he was shocked or something."

Buck stepped around to face the preacher. "You left them alone like that?" Dark blue flashes of something the older man couldn’t place lanced into his heart.

"Vin was alright. Just worried as hell" His eyes turned a little hard. "Besides, how else were we supposed to get help out there?"

Taking a shaky breath, the rogue’s gaze softened. "I’m sorry Josiah."

"I understand, Brother."

"You two gonna stand there, or are you coming?" Nathan rushed passed them, with Ezra close behind. Both were laden down with medical supplies.

The two big men sprinted into action. "I’ll find JD. Get cover for the town." Josiah yelled running past the others and taking the stairs two at a time.

"We’re comin’ boys." Buck whispered. "Hold on ol’ buddy."

- - - - - - -

Stretching out his aching body, Vin picked up the cloth, running it over Chris’s face and chest. Feeling the heat rising from the blond, he pushed away the fear that kept threatening to envelop him. He’d seen open breaks like this one before, but it wasn’t the same as those times. This time it was his best friend. Dropping the cloth in the bowl, he knelt beside the bed and rested his aching head in his hands.

"Vin?" Chris’s weak voice penetrated his skull and his head shot up, sending the room into a sickening motion. Swallowing against the nausea, the tracker leaned forward.

Blinking his eyes, in an effort to see clearer, the blond raised a shaking hand and lightly touched the Texans’ head. "You’re…hurt."

Grasping the hand between his own the sharpshooter lowered it once more to the blanket. He gulped down the feeling of helplessness, and prayed silently for Nathan’s swift arrival. "S’nothin’" the raspy voice was raw with emotion.

A small tweak in the corner of Chris’s mouth left almost before it arrived. Fighting to keep conscious, his eyelids fluttered and closed over fevered green pools.

Taking a few deep breaths, Vin’s watery gaze settled on their clasped hands. He dipped his head and moved it back and forth against the sheet, wiping the moisture from his eyes. Remembering their talk on the porch the previous night, he closed his hands more tightly around Chris’s. Staring at them forlornly, his quiet, trembling voice filled the silence. "An’ when ya can’t keep a hold of it on yer own. Someone else takes care of it fer ya."

Next.....