Disclaimer: I own no part of the Magnificent Seven, and I do not claim any rights to that creation. There are no financial gains in writing this fiction.

Warnings: Some language

Notes: This is written, belatedly, for Lynda in honor of her birthday. May your birthday have been wonderful and the year ahead magnificent, lady! This is loosely based on the Cherokee story The Haunted Whirlpool, although I've taken liberties to make it fit into the M7 mythos. The story can be found at:

Also, the / */ dialogue denotes thoughts.

Vin Tanner looked behind him, smiling at the man at the back of the canoe. Chris Larabee had his head tilted back, his eyes closed, the sun warming the ruddy features. The sharpshooter couldn't help but chuckle, the soft sound causing the blond's eyes to snap open, and he looked at his friend.

"What are you laughing at?" His feigned anger didn't faze the other man.

"Y' look like a lizard, sunnin' hisself," Tanner replied.

"You saying I'm a reptile?"

"Nope," smile firmly in place, the younger man turned back and returned to guiding the little craft along the river. They had taken some time off, deciding to take a trip down the swollen waterway. The spring rains had made the normally shallow river deep enough to take a canoe down. Larabee hadn't been on a river since leaving Indiana, and Vin jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

As usual, the two men said little during the trip, the sounds of nature unbroken by little more than the sound of boot heels on rock, a paddle slicing through the water, and the easy breathing of men at peace. At a nearby river settlement they rented a canoe from a young merchant eager to make a few extra dollars. Leaving Peso and Pony at the livery, they packed enough food to see them through a week, and set off.

A few miles below the settlement, the river began to challenge the men, the water picking up speed and lapping with more insistence at the canoe. Tanner guided them along the current, his keen eyes picking up signs of hidden dangers before they came on them. Submerged rocks and tree stumps were maneuvered around, and the men continued on their way.

"Reckon things 'll settle down in a bit," Vin observed.

"Afraid you'll get wet?" Chris joked.

"Nah, just worried yer ol' bones 'll be too brittle t' stand th' strain," Tanner returned.

Flipping his paddle out of the water, Chris splashed water across the buckskin-clad back. By the time the other man turned, his paddle was back in the water, and he turned an innocent gaze on his friend. "Gotta watch the river all the time. It's a mite unpredictable."

"Um-hm," Tanner squinted at the other man, but returned to watching the river. "Shit!"

Larabee stretched up, looking over the younger man's shoulder. He echoed the man's curse as he saw the water ahead. It was churning and spinning violently, the water snapping into the air with ferocity. Both men dug in, fighting to turn the canoe toward shore. The current was relentless, though, drawing them forward. Neither of them said a thing as they struggled against nature.

Despite their strength and determination, the two peacekeepers felt themselves pulled toward the whirlpool. They watched with open fear as their boat connected with the edge, then began to whip around in the torrent. The wooden craft was tossed about like a toy in a child's hands, the occupants all but helpless in its grasp.

They had given up any thought of paddling out of the whirlpool, and simply held on to the sides of the canoe. Vin felt himself lifted time and again, coming almost completely out of the craft. He cursed as he felt himself losing his grip, and struggled to maintain his hold. After what seemed like hours, he lost the battle, flying up and out of the canoe.

Behind him, Chris called out as his friend left the canoe. "Vin!" There was nothing he could do though, and he watched helplessly as the buckskin clad man flew into the air.

Tanner spiraled, a tangle of arms and legs, then smacked hard against the violent water. He fought back the blackness and fought to draw air into his lungs. Succeeding only in swallowing water, he coughed and spluttered but only took in more. The blackness was replaced by violent flashes of lightening as his head connected with something hard and unmoving.

Still in the canoe, Chris struggled to maintain his grip, his hazel eyes searching desperately for any sign of his friend. Once, twice, the little craft spun around the furious water, and still he saw no sign of the younger man. Then just as he finally spotted the dark head bobbing back into view, he lost his hold on the wooden sides. Eyes still watching Tanner, he flew from the canoe as well.

Vin's mind fought to cling to awareness even as sharp arrows of pain drove themselves through the young man's head. He blinked rapidly against the spraying water, and saw Chris fly from the canoe. Unable to draw breath enough to call to his friend, he could only watch as the blond arched gracefully into the air. Then he stared unbelievably something very large, dark and scaly leapt up from the very center of the whirlpool. It's mouth, huge and filled with row after row of jagged teeth, opened wide.

And Chris Larabee was devoured.

/NO!/ Tanner's mind screamed. The violent water continued to batter the tracker, relentlessly spinning him around the river, nearly from bank to bank. Slowly he found himself pulled closer and closer to the center of the vortex, despite his valiant efforts to pull himself free. As he reached the eye of the violent water, he felt himself drawn downward.

Exhausted, defeated, mourning the loss of his best friend, Vin tumbled down toward the river's floor... toward final blackness. His lungs ached, burned as oxygen became only a memory. His blue eyes stared into the darkness, seeing nothing... no, seeing something. Vin's mind struggled to make sense of the light that grew brighter, coming to meet him as he dropped through the water.

Closer and closer, the young sharpshooter was drawn to the light. He blinked and stared, shocked as he grew accustomed to the brightness and made out shapes and shadows within the light. Then those shapes and shadows coalesced to detailed figures. Amazingly, Vin found himself looking down into a meadow, filled with thick, vibrant grass that waved as if in a soft summer breeze. Even more amazingly, he found himself looking down at people. Beautiful, young and vibrant, the meadow was filled with them. And all of them were looking up at him with gentle smiles on their glowing faces.

/Vin... you must go back... you cannot enter here... not yet./

/I don't understand,/ his racing mind called to them.

/It is not time yet... not your time... you must return above./

/I cain't... the water's got hold a me... cain't fight it no more./

/We will help then... help you return... it is not time for you here./

/Vin./

He looked to see one particular person looking up at him, love in her blue eyes. She looked at him with a mixture of pride and sadness, and he knew immediately who she was, even though he hadn't seen her face for over 20 years. /Mama./

/Go back, son. I miss you, but it's not time yet. Go back./

/I miss y' Mama./

/I miss you too, Vin, but you have much to do. Go back./

/Mama.../

/I love you son... I'm so proud of you./ With that she raised her hands, palms toward him. The others did the same, all of them pressing their palms toward the flailing young Texan.

And he felt himself lifted upward.

"Vin?"

"Mm...Mama?" He managed to crack open his eyes to mere slits. A vague shadow hovered over him.

"Mama? Don't reckon anyone's ever made that mistake before."

He finally recognized the voice that managed to make its way through the roaring in his ears. "Ch... Chris?"

"That's better."

"B-but... y... ya... yer dead."

The blond stared, puzzled, at the man who lay before him. "You must have been dreaming. I'm a little the worse for wear, but I'm not dead."

"But... s-saw y'... fi-fi... big fish." He struggled to rise, but couldn't move.

"Sh, lay still," the blond said gently. "You hit your head, pard, reckon it scrambled your brains a bit. Now, just lay still and let me take care of you the best I can."

Exhausted and in pain, Tanner complied. Even with his eyes open he could see nothing but vague shadows, and searching them only made his head hurt more. His arms and legs felt as if they each weighed a thousand pounds, and something was pressing down on his chest, making it hard to draw a breath.

Chris watched with concern as the other man's breathing continued to be shallow and labored. Beneath the blood that flowed freely from the man's head wound, his face was waxen. Blue tinted lips were parted as Vin fought for air. Gently he lifted the man up, settling him sideways against his chest.

The movement brought a sense of vertigo and intense nausea. Tanner began to gag and cough, and he vomited what seemed to be gallons of river water. Holding him carefully, Chris rubbed the heaving back as the brackish water spewed forth. Long minutes passed before the trembling body began to quiet and the sickness passed. The blond settled the other man's head against his shoulder, letting him rest against him.

Feeling returned to him slowly, and Vin felt the warmth of his friend seep into his chilled body. He sighed and relaxed against the man in black, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Continuing to rub the buckskin clad back, Larabee listened as the other man's breathing grew deeper and more even. His fingers pressed against the long neck, monitoring the faint pulse he found there. Tanner was still not out of danger by any means, but at least he was breathing.

Larabee looked around them, hoping to find some sign of their gear. Almost miraculously, a few watertight packets made their way to shore. Carefully lowering the other man to the muddy bank, Chris moved to the water's edge and retrieved them. He watched for a few minutes, but nothing else appeared. Moving back to where Vin lay, he dropped to his knees and opened the packets. A tin of matches, dried beef, an unbroken bottle of whiskey. Not much, but it would keep them going for a day or two. With a sigh, he wrapped the items up once more and stuffed them into his pockets. Fortunately they had come to shore at a place where the bank sloped gently upward. He looked back up to where the whirlpool continued to flail violently, still amazed that they had made it out alive.

He certainly didn't understand any of it. He remembered flying out of the little canoe, and feeling the little craft strike him from behind as he vaulted through the air. When he landed, fate had sent him beyond the vortex, and he was able to fight his way to shore. Looking around for some time, he saw no sign of his friend. His heart sinking, the man in black started to return to the water. Then suddenly, Tanner was right before him. It almost seemed as if the younger man had been shoved upward and then toward him from below. He stepped to the water's edge and pulled the limp body from the river's clutches.

Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he struggled to make sense of things, Chris hauled the lean body upward, apologizing when his actions caused the younger man to moan painfully. Half carrying, half dragging him, Chris wearily pulled him upward until they reached dry land. Lowering Vin to the ground once more, the blond dropped beside him. He scanned the area, locating scattered twigs and branches nearby. Pushing himself to his feet, he swayed dangerously as the exhaustion of fighting the river threatened to sap the last of his strength. His back ached, and he knew he was bruised from the canoe hitting him. Nothing was broken though, as far as he could tell.

Larabee shuffled tiredly around the area, gathering the wood to start a fire. Retuning to where the tracker lay, he built a fire to warm their chilled bodies. Neither of them could afford to get sick right now. The fire slowly heated the air around them and Chris opened the whiskey bottle.

Lifting the semi-conscious tracker to sit against him, the blond said, "here Vin, drink some of this."

"Wh... hm... wh... what?"

"Drink this, it'll help." He pressed the mouth of the bottle against the chilled lips, smiling in satisfaction as the younger man sipped the liquor slowly. He continued to feed the whiskey to his friend until Tanner began to cough. Settling the bottle beside him on the ground, Chris rubbed the once again trembling back and spoke to him softly. "Just take it easy, Cowboy, breath nice and slow. That's it, nice and slow."

"S... sorry... tired... I h-hurt... head... head hurts," he muttered in confusion.

"You hit it pretty good. Just rest, Vin. I'll watch your back, you just rest." With a weak nod, the slender man collapsed against his friend.

Chris bathed the blood from the deathly pale features, cursing when more oozed from the vicious head wound to take its place. He fought the bleeding gash for some time before it finally slowed and stopped. He retrieved their neckerchiefs from where he had spread them beside the fire to dry, using them to bind the injury. Vin lay unmoving throughout the process, giving no indication that he felt the ministrations.

Finally, satisfied that he had done everything he could, Larabee sat back on his heels and watched Tanner. The injured man lay there, the shallow rise and fall of his lean chest the only indication that he still lived.

"Tanner, you'd better not die on me out here. I knew you were a stubborn cuss the first time I set eyes on you. You're sure as hell stubborn enough to get through this. Right? You'd better be, pard, because I don't know what I'll do if I have to bury you." With a tired sigh, he whispered the words he would never say to the man while he was awake.

As the sun set, Chris gathered more wood, stacking It nearby. They had nothing but the river soaked clothes on their backs and the darkness would bring a steady drop in temperature. Lifting Vin once again, he roused him and fed him more whiskey. Larabee tried to get him to eat some of the dried beef, but the semi-conscious man wasn't able to chew the tough meat and choked. The blond held him through another spell of sickness, cringing when he was reduced to wheezing and gasping for air. Only when it seemed that the spell was over did he lay him back on the ground, moving them both away to a clean spot. Eating some of the jerky himself, and washing it down with a few swallows of whiskey, he lay down beside the sharpshooter. Wrapping himself around the lean frame, he settled in for a long, miserable night. With Tanner between him and the fire, he hoped the injured man would be warm enough. Slowly the gunman drifted into a light sleep, the buckskin clad man safe in his embrace.

Morning came, bringing with it the aches and pains of the previous day's ordeal. Chris groaned as he carefully untangled himself from the other man, having cradled him against the elements throughout the night. His body was numb and sluggish, his back aching from where the canoe had hit him. A soft sound brought his attention to Tanner, and he gently lay a hand on the man's shoulder. "Vin? You awake?"

"Mm," was the only response.

"Vin, you need to wake up now. We've got to get out of here soon, get some help. Do you think you can walk if I help you?"

"Mm."

"Vin?"

Slowly blue eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dark with confusion. Then the injured man cried out and closed them, one trembling hand covering his lids.

"Vin, what's wrong?"

"Hu... hurts. B-bright."

Looking up at the gray morning light, Chris frowned. "The sunlight is hurting your eyes?"

"Mm."

The lean man moved to shade his friend, then turned the pale face toward him. "I've got it blocked, open your eyes for me cowboy."

Slowly, as if he weren't certain he believed the man, Tanner cracked his eyes open. Pulling them to half-mast, he moaned softly, but kept them open. "Why're th-they hurtin'?"

"You took a bad hit to the head yesterday, do you remember?"

He started to shake his head, but cried out when the movement caused even more pain. "What ha... what happened?"

"We were on the river and hit a rough patch. We were both thrown out of the canoe. I don't know why or how, but we both made it through alive."

"'Live... I re... member. I seen... I seen m' Mama."

Chris tried to ignore the shiver that coursed up his back. He had heard of people seeing their dead loved ones when they were close to death. The blond said pragmatically, "you hit your head, it was just a dream."

"No... not a d-dream."

"All right, we'll talk more about it later. Right now, we need to get back to that settlement where we left the horses. If they don't have a doctor, I need to get you back home to Nathan, let him patch you up."

"'M I bad... bad hurt?"

"Don't know, pard," the gunman said honestly. "You've got a bad gash, and you've been in and out since it happened. The sooner we get you back to town the better. Do you think you can walk if I help you? It's only about five miles I reckon, but I don't think I can carry you that far."

"Cain't... cain't see. Bright."

Gently rubbing a calloused thumb along the square jaw, Chris said, "I'll take care of you, Vin. Just hang on to me and I'll get you home."

"'Kay," Tanner's voice was filled with trust.

Larabee pulled off his jacked and shirt, slipping the jacket back on against the early morning chill. Using his knife, he cut strips from the shirt, using them to blindfold the tracker against the painful light. Vin rebelled briefly, relaxing when Chris explained what he was doing. When the sunlight was blocked completely, he eased the younger man off the ground, holding him in a strong embrace while he fought the feelings of vertigo and nausea that washed over him. Then he held his arm to guide and steady him as they started off.

Within yards the sharpshooter was stumbling, nearly falling with each step. Chris slid one arm around the trembling shoulders and slid the other beneath the man's arm. Vin's fingers grasped at his hand, holding tightly to his friend. "Hang... on," he repeated in a breathless whisper.

"That's right, pard, hang on and I'll get you home."

Five miles. A man could cross that much ground quickly, easily, ending with little more than sore feet from boots not made for walking. By the time the sun hit its apex, though, they had barely crossed half the distance. They were forced to stop every several yards, Tanner's body giving out and collapsing to the ground. Chris would hold onto him, keeping him from falling and hurting himself, and lowering him to the grass. There he sat with his friend in his arms, the lean upper body limp against his chest.

"Just rest, you're going to be okay," Larabee said softly. "We'll start again when you're ready. It's okay, pard. Everything's going to be fine. Just rest and let me take care of you."

Vin lay against the broad chest, taking comfort in the whispered words. Then he frowned behind the bandages, his mind rebelling in confusion. "But... yer not... yer not here. Ch-Chris... yer dead. I... I seen y'... die... th' fish... I - "

"Sh, calm down. I'm right here Vin. You were dreaming, I'm not dead."

"Seen... seen y'... th' fish... fish ate y'."

Rubbing the trembling shoulder gently, the blond said, "it was a dream, Vin. I'm here."

"Cain't... cain't see y'."

"Pard," he said patiently, "you've got a bandage over your eyes to keep the sun from hurting them."

"Cain't... why cain't I... fish... tired." Tanner relaxed against the other man, his words becoming nothing more than incoherent mutterings.

"Damn it!" Larabee couldn't contain his frustration and anger any longer. He scanned the sky as if he would find the answer to his dilemma there. When nothing was forthcoming, he scanned the terrain around them. A few clumps of trees, a distant hill, but nothing more. No where for him to secret the injured man away long enough to allow him to retrieve the horses. No way to go for help without leaving the delirious man alone. "Damn it!"

"Chris?" The voice seemed stronger, coherent.

"Hey pard."

"What's wrong?"

"Just trying to figure out a way out of this."

"L-leave me... here... go get th' h-horses."

He smiled. Even out of his mind the tracker could read his thoughts. "No where for me to leave you. Just some trees about a quarter mile away."

"H-help me... go... I'll st-stay there... you go... " his voice drifted off again.

"Vin," he stopped, realizing that the man was right. Sighing, he said, "all right."

It took another two hours to get to the trees. In the end, Larabee lifted the smaller man into his arms, grunting painfully as his bruised muscles protested, and carried him the last few yards to the trees. Carrying him into the middle of the small grove, he lowered the semi-conscious man to the ground. Leaning him against a trunk, Chris watched his friend for a minute.

"Vin? Can you hear me?"

"Mm."

"I'm gonna take the bandages off your eyes, we'll see how you do here in the shade. Okay?"

"Yeah."

Gently removing the dark cloth, he waited until Vin seemed ready, then said, "okay, open your eyes for me."

"Th-they ain't all r-ready?"

Smiling compassionately at the younger man's confusion, he said, "no, now open them blue eyes up for me."

Slowly his eyes blinked open, and Tanner squinted into the shadows. He rubbed a trembling hand across his face with a soft groan. "Don't hurt... so much now."

"That's good," Larabee sighed. "You think you'll be okay here alone while I go get the horses?"

"Ain't 'lone."

"What?"

"Ain't a... alone. Th' others... they'll w-watch over me."

He couldn't leave his friend in this state. The man was delirious, out of his mind from the injury. "Vin, there's no one here but me and you."

"No... they're here." He looked over the older man's shoulder, his gaze settling on the bright point that had begun to grow. He watched as they appeared in the light, smiling at him once more. "R-right there... cain't y' s-see 'm?"

Chris watched as the other man's eyes focused on some place behind him, another shiver coursing through him as he saw that Vin was actually looking at something... someone. "I can't see them, Vin. Who is it? Who's there?"

"M-ma... m' Mama... m' Pa... Nettie... sh-she looks... looks so young, Chris. Ki-kind 'a like Casey.

Larabee watched in amazement as the blue eyes focused, moving from place to place as he named off those who had gone from his life as if they were truly standing there.

"Oh lord," Tanner stopped with a gasp.

Grabbing hold of the man, Chris said firmly, "what is it Vin? What's wrong?"

"It's... I see 'm, Chris... th-they're s-smilin'... happy."

"Who?"

"S-Sarah... Adam."

The blond felt a flush of anger, how dare Tanner claim to see his dead family? Then, as quickly as it came, the anger disappeared and was replaced by sorrow. Not just the sorrow for the family he had lost, but for the friend who's life hung in the balance. "Vin, there's no one there. They aren't here."

"Yeah... they are. Don'cha see 'm?"

Dropping his head to his chest, Chris took a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to decide what to do. Unbidden his gaze moved behind him, over his shoulder, as if he were afraid of what he'd see there. There was nothing but the small knot of trees and the open prairie beyond. "No," he said sadly.

"They're th-there. Won't let no... let nothin' happen t' me. 'S okay, Cowboy."

He had no choice. With over two miles left between them and rescue and the tracker growing weaker and more confused, he had to leave him. Carefully he loosened the hogleg that had survived the ordeal, laying it across the narrow lap, placing one of the shaking hands on the stock. Then, taking the square jaw in one hand, he turned the wandering gaze toward him.

"Listen to me Vin. I've got to go for help, and you're going to stay here. You've got your gun right here, in case you need it. I'll be back as quick as I can with the horses, and we'll get you to town. Vin, do you understand me?"

The younger man smiled, his gaze once more settling beyond his worried friend. "'M fine... pard. Ain't noth... nothin' gonna happen t' me. They'll see t'it."

Heaving another heavy sigh, the gunslinger nodded. "Okay, Vin. Okay."

Straightening slowly, sore muscles protesting, he watched as the tracker's gaze returned to the scene only he could see. Rubbing a hand across his face, he cursed the fates that had brought them to this point. With a final look around to make certain that there was no one around that could injure the confused man, he turned and jogged toward the little settlement.

The trip passed in a whirl of worry and concern. He arrived in the little cluster of shacks and tents, his feet and legs aching, his bruised back throbbing, and his mind spinning. Vin's troubling words and strange behaviors had him worried. Hell, they had him scared to death. He had known of men losing touch with reality after an accident, men who spent the rest of their days being ridiculed and laughed at. The thought of his best friend becoming one of those shuffling, muttering creatures made him sick to his stomach.

They would take care of him, of course... he would take care of him. He could keep him out at the shack, make a place for him away from staring eyes.

"What the hell are you doing Larabee?" He spoke the words aloud, his tone harsh and angry. "Just keep your mind on right now... tomorrow's not here yet. He'll be fine. The stubborn fool's got a hard head, once he gets some rest and Nathan looks him over, he'll be fine... he'll be fine." Oh Lord, let him be fine.

Dodging the stares of the townspeople, he hurried to the livery. Rousting the boy there, he ordered their horses readied and asked about a doctor. Finding, not surprisingly, that there was none, he left the livery boy to his chores. Stocking up at what passed for the town's general store, he returned to find the horses tacked and waiting for him a short time later. Nodding his thanks to the young man, he lashed the big black to the back of his saddle. Stepping up onto the gelding's back, he tipped his hat to the livery boy and wheeled the two animals around. He spurred them forward to a gallop, letting what townsfolk were around worry about staying out of his way. As soon as they reached the edge of the rundown little cluster of buildings, he pushed them even harder, his heart straining to return to his friend.

/I don't kin why Chris don't see any a y',/ Vin's mind sought answers as he once more saw the beautiful prairie open up before him.

/Son, maybe it's just that he ain't ready to see us,/ Nettie answered. It was strange hearing that same 'old biddy's' voice coming from someone as young as Casey.

/He always was stubborn,/ Sarah chimed in, /never saw a thing until he was ready, even if it was staring him in the face./

Tanner had to chuckle at that. The beautiful young woman who's life... and death... had been the center of Chris Larabee's soul for so long, looked frustrated when she spoke of his stubborn nature.

/Reckon that's the long 'n short of it,/ Vin replied. /Sure wish he'd open up t' this though, ma'am. Think it'd do 'm a lot a good t' see you again./

/I've never left him, Vin, I think he knows that... in his heart, if not his mind./

He nodded, /reckon he does. He misses you 'n Adam somethin' fierce, though. Maybe that's blinded him t' seein' that you're so near./

She smiled, her lovely face lighting up as she did. Her thick, auburn curls framed her features, the tresses blowing gently in a breeze that hadn't reached the tracker as yet. /You're a wise man, Vin Tanner. I'm glad that he has you with him now. He needs someone strong enough to keep him from withering away from all the guilt he carries. He has to stop blaming himself for what happened, it wasn't his fault./

/Reckon he don't see 't that way though, ma'am. It was 'cause a that twisted woman's love you 'n Adam died. Powerful burden t' carry./

/ I'm thankful that he has you... all of you... to help lighten that burden now. More thankful than I can tell you./

He didn't have words to reply, so he didn't. instead, his mind turned to other concerns. He saw the same familiar face that had come to him earlier, watching him - it seemed - through his own eyes. Smiling tentatively, he said, /it's been a lot a years, Mama. I never forgot your words in all this time, always worked hard at bein' th' man I figured y'd want me t' be./

Her smile lit up the world. /You've done that, and so much more,/ she reassured him.

He smiled, his whole being swelling with pride and happiness. His Mama was proud of him. If he never knew another happy moment in his entire life, it would be all right. The look in her eyes gave him everything he had ever needed or wanted. The rest of the world be damned, he had her approval.

/But you have a lot more than that, son,/ she said. His mother had read his very soul. /You know that, don't you? You have the other men... the town. All of them proud and happy to know you./

Vin chuckled. /Don't know 'bout th' town. Reckon me 'n th' others have torn it up often 'nuff that they ain't always real glad t' have our services./

Shaking her head, her smile still filling the world with light, Rebecca Tanner said, /a little chipped paint and broken windows... little enough for all the good you men do./

/Boy, speaking as someone who you seven did help... I'm forever grateful. It also helps me to rest easy, knowing you're all there to keep my Casey safe,/ Nettie Wells chimed in.

Nodding to the once-old woman, he replied, /she c'n be a handful, Nettie, I'll say that. But long's we're able, we'll make certain no harm comes to her./

Nettie Wells smiled her thanks. Then Vin realized that the light from that other place was dimming. His heart leapt at the thought of losing touch with the others. His mother moved close once more, tears in her blue eyes. /Whatever happens, son, we'll never be far. Remember that./

The light continued to dim, and Tanner reached out to touch the fading images. He allowed himself a single, strangled cry as the light faded completely, and the prairie disappeared. His loved ones disappeared.

"No!"

"Vin?"

Tanner blinked, fighting to focus on this new speaker. Finally he realized that his friend had returned. "Chris?"

"Hey pard," Larabee said softly as he squatted down beside the injured sharpshooter. "What's the problem?"

"Wh-what? I... Mama, th' others... they... they're gone," Vin stammered, confused as his foggy mind tried to move from that world to the one he found himself returned to.

Chris dropped his head with a frustrated sigh. Choosing not to argue about it, he simply said, "oh. Look, I've brought the horses, and I've got some things to take care of your wound. Come first light, we'll head back to town so Nathan can take a look at you."

"Ain't crazy... Chris."

"Didn't say you were."

"I c'n hear 't in yer v-voice. Y' think I got m' brains scattered... think I'm outta m' head from th' hit I took."

"I think you're a little confused, pard, that's all," Larabee said softly.

"I ain't... I..." his voice drifted off as he slumped over, unconscious.

Catching the suddenly limp body, the blond lowered him carefully to the ground. Straightening the lean body out, he went to the horses and retrieved a bedroll. Settling the injured man into the blankets, Chris moved around quietly, setting up camp. By the time the young sharpshooter blinked awake again, he had a fire going, and dinner almost ready for them both.

"Thought maybe you'd sleep through the night," Larabee couldn't conceal his relief at seeing the blue eyes open, even if they were clouded with confusion.

"Chris?"

"Yeah," the blond settled in beside the other man, handing him a canteen. "How's your head?"

"Fine... how long've we b-been... long's it been?"

"About a day and a half. No headache?"

"Little b... little bit."

"How're your eyes?"

"Better. Where are... where are we?"

"Out in the middle of nowhere. Think you could eat a little?"

"Reckon."

Between the two of them, they managed to get Vin back up, setting him against a tree. Chris dished up the beans and beef, bringing both plates over to where his friend sat. He held out the plate, waiting to see that Tanner could handle it. They ate in silence, Vin drifting off once or twice. Dinner finished, the blond took the plates and gathered the medical supplies he had gotten in town. Carefully removing the makeshift bandage, he gently cleaned the head wound. The other man groaned softly once or twice, but managed to sit still as his torn flesh was tended to. With fresh muslin covering the ragged gash, Larabee settled the once more drifting man back into his bedroll. Vin was asleep before the blanket was pulled up over his lean form.

The gunman moved around the campsite, limping as the blisters on his feet rubbed against his boots. Finally he eased them off, pulled away the heavy socks, and investigated the raw flesh. Grumbling under his breath, he washed the minor injuries, wrapped more of the bleached muslin around them, and stretched out on the second bedroll. He dozed fitfully, coming awake to check on the other man from time to time. He was never so happy as when his red-rimmed eyes opened to the sunrise a few hours later.

"Vin, come one, time to wake up."

The groggy hunter mumbled and tried to buy himself deeper beneath the blankets. That in itself was out of character. Chris couldn't remember a time when he had been the one to make the morning coffee while the two of them were on the trail somewhere. He gently shook the narrow shoulder once more. "Come on, Tanner, rise and shine."

Slowly the confused eyes opened. "Lar'bee, let me be."

"Get up here and eat some breakfast. We need to get on the road if we're going to get you back to town tonight."

With a sigh, the younger man struggled to come completely awake. Finally he rasped, "let's just go... don't think I c'n hold an'thin' down at th' moment."

"Try a little, all right? You need your strength."

Slowly the lean body pushed up out of the warm blankets, and Vin shifted around to lean against the nearby tree. The blanket still covering his legs, Tanner managed to eat a little of the mush Chris had mixed up, following it with coffee as strong and sweet as any he could have made himself.

The sun was just fully up when they started their journey. Larabee helped the unsteady man into the saddle, climbed onto Pony's back, and together they nudged the horses forward.

The day passed with a painful slowness. Vin was in and out of consciousness, sometimes talking to the gunman, at others to people only he could see. Chris found his nerves growing raw each time the younger man began speaking about - and to - the people that populated his fevered imagination. By the time Four Corners appeared on the horizon, he was ready to shoot the sharpshooter.

"Damn it, Tanner! There's no one there! I keep telling you, you're imagining them!"

"Chris what th' hell's wrong with y'? Yer's jumpy 's a whore in church... sorry Mama. Yes 'm, I know I shouldn't talk like... ah hell, Miss Nettie, y'all don't have t' gang up on me!"

"VIN! There's not a soul out here but you and me!" Chris reached out and turned the young man toward him rough enough to nearly pull the unsteady Tanner from his saddle. "Listen to me, Vin. If you start talking like this when we get into town, folks are gonna think you have lost your mind. Now you need to realize that your mother, Nettie Wells... Sarah... they're not here. Do you understand me?"

Sighing, Tanner spoke once more to the air. "Y'all need t' ignore this grouchy ol' mule. He's as stubborn 's th' day 's long... yes ma'am," he turned to the other man. "Sarah says t' tell y' she misses them stubborn fits a yers."

That did it. Chris hauled back an arm, only barely stopping himself before his fist knocked the injured man from the saddle. Glaring angrily for a long moment, he finally growled and kicked Pony to a gallop. If Vin didn't keep up, he'd send someone out to collect him. He had to get away from the man's insane talk before he did something he'd regret for the rest of his life.

Confusion darkening his handsome features, Tanner continued to ride along at a walk, watching as the black clad man moved away from him. He had only covered a quarter of a mile when he saw two more familiar figures riding hell-bent-for-leather toward him. Vin couldn't really blame Chris for leaving like he had, it was difficult to believe in something you couldn't see. But for now he was so weary, he didn't have to energy to make the blond understand what was going on.

"Vin, you doin' okay?"

"Hey Bucklin," the sharpshooter smiled tiredly as Wilmington and Ezra Standish drew up beside him.

"Vin, I must say I've seen you looking better, my friend," Standish said as he placed a hand on the buckskin jacket. He frowned as he felt the arm beneath tremble.

"Chris... Chris tell y' I's out here?"

"Yeah, said you took a good hit on the head. Don't know what the damn fool was thinkin', leavin' you out here alone."

"He... he don't understand," Vin rubbed a shaking hand across his eyes as things began to tilt out of focus.

The big ladies man barely caught the younger man before he fell out of the saddle. While Ezra held Peso steady, he carefully pulled the unresisting body before him on General. Tanner slumped bonelessly against him, head lolling against the big man's shoulder. The trio set off toward town once more.

"Don't give a damn what that fool 'don't understand'. He's got a helluva lot t' answer for, leavin' this boy out here alone in this shape."

Ezra nodded in agreement, unable to find any words to voice his own anger.

/I'm sorry he doesn't understand, Vin./

/Ma'am, it's not for you to apologize for. Don't know how he was when y'all were married, but he tends to be real hard to get off a trail once he's on it. Reckon he'd a made a good huntin' dog./

Sarah Larabee laughed, a sound like crystal in the wind. He saw why Chris was so devastated about losing her. Her eyes glittered like dark blue jewels, and her smile was like sunlight after a month of storms. But beyond her physical beauty, he sensed a woman of both strength and unbounded love.

/Wish I could make sense of all this. I don't understand why I c'n all of a sudden see y'all... and why nobody else can./

/You nearly entered our world, son,/ Nettie said gently. /I think that, for whatever reason, it opened your eyes to it./

/Think I'll always be able t' see 't?/

/Don't know./

He sighed, wishing he could make sense of it all. Try as he might, though, all he managed to do was to make his headache worse.

Nathan and Josiah watched as Vin lay in the clinic's bed, talking softly as he seemed to carry on a conversation with someone neither of them could see.

"What do you make of that, doc?" Josiah asked softly.

"Seen it before with head injuries. Does somethin' to the brain, makes dreams seem real and reality seem like a dream. Hardest part is, there ain't a damn thing we can do but keep the wound clean, keep him comfortable, and hope."

"Hope?"

"Hope that he gets better."

"And if he doesn't?"

With a sigh, the dark healer said, "then we're gonna have t' watch his back for him. He'll be an easy target for bounty hunters or anyone who has a grudge against him. He could 'go away' at any time, and he'd be an easy target."

"Then we'll watch him," Josiah said with deep conviction.

"Won't be easy."

"Perhaps not, but we'll do it."

Their conversation ended as the door squeaked open and Buck entered. It had been two days since he had carried the unconscious man into the clinic, and he was still angry. Angry at the world in general, but angry with Chris Larabee in particular. By the time they had gotten Vin into town and up to the clinic, his old friend had taken two bottles of whiskey and ridden out for his shack. They hadn't seen him since, and Buck wasn't certain he wanted to see the hard-headed mule any time soon.

None of them could understand the blond abandoning his best friend like he had. Vin had managed to tell them a little when he was coherent, but they couldn't comprehend Chris Larabee riding off to leave the injured tracker on the prairie alone. And the fact that he hadn't come around to check on his friend made the least sense of all.

"How's he doin'?" the big ladies man asked, watching the tracker carrying on another conversation with the people he had told them he could suddenly see.

"'Bout the same," Nathan answered. "Comes 'n goes. We got him up a little while ago and took him out to the landing. Seemed to ease his headache a bit, but he's still tirin' out awful easy. That's the thing about head injuries... hard t' tell what's goin' on, and y' can't say when the person's gonna get better."

Nodding shortly, Wilmington said, "he still talkin' to his ma and th' others?"

"Yep."

"You know," Josiah said, leaning back in his chair as he studied the bedridden man, "there are stories from almost every culture, telling of other worlds populated by the dead."

"Heaven," Buck said with a shrug.

"Sometimes, but not always. Battlegrounds, hunting grounds, a variety of different types of afterlife. It seems to me that the lifestyle of the people has a direct bearing on how they view the world beyond this one."

"Makes sense," Nathan commented. "The 'eternal reward' of one person could - literally - be hell for another. And it makes sense that Vin would look for wide open spaces, his ma and others that have been important to him."

"Yeah, but Sarah? He never knew her," Buck argued.

"No," Josiah responded, "but is there anyone left in this world more important to Vin than Chris?" When the others simply shook their heads, he said, "then perhaps Sarah is there because both she and Vin care so much about Chris."

With a sigh, Wilmington said, "I swear I'm gonna have a headache worse than Vin's."

Smiling compassionately, Sanchez said, "that tends to be the way with spiritual conversations, brother, they only leave us with more questions."

"Well, there is one thing I can find an answer too," Buck said, "think I'll go out to his shack an' find out just what th' hell's gotten into Chris."

Laying a big hand on the other man's shoulder, the former preacher said, "do you think you're the one to do that? Seems to me that you're likely to make more work for Nathan going out there in the mood you're in."

With a heavy sigh, Buck said softly, "you're probably right Josiah."

Squeezing the ladies man's shoulder now, Sanchez said, "well then, why don't you stay here and look after things, and I'll ride out and see what's going on with our absent friend?"

"Yeah," Wilmington agreed, "okay."

With a nod, the big former preacher unfolded himself from the chair. With a glance toward the bed, he found that Vin was asleep once again. Breathing a silent prayer for them all, he moved from the little clinic.

LaraMee

Josiah rode slowly toward the little cabin that Chris Larabee had come to call home. His mind was filled with thoughts, but none of them seemed to help him decide what to say to the other man when he arrived. They were all at a loss as to why the blond had literally deserted Vin on the prairie two days ago, or why he had chosen to abandon his best friend when he was injured. The big former preacher was certain of one thing, however. He would find out those answers before leaving Larabee's shack... even if he had to dodge bullets to do it.

Reining Apostle in, he sat on the hill above Chris' homestead, simply watching. He studied the little house and corral as if they would reveal the answers he sought. As he watched, the man in question stepped out onto the porch, looking around as if he sensed that someone was watching him. Then he shuffled across to the corral, entered, and called Pony to him. As Larabee began currying the handsome black gelding, Sanchez nudged the chestnut forward.

Chris looked up at the sound of the approaching rider. His hand dropped from the butt of his Colt, but he remained on the alert. Larabee could well imagine how things looked to the others; his leaving Vin on the prairie and riding away was unforgivable. He knew that for certain, as he would never be able to forgive himself.

As the former preacher drew near, the blond nodded, saying only, "Josiah."

Touching the brim of his hat, the older man replied, "Chris. Mind if I step down?"

"Suit yourself."

Easing his bulk to the ground, Sanchez said, "thought it was about time one of us came out to make certain that you're all right."

"I'm fine, and I'm not your responsibility," the blond began, sounding defensive.

"I beg to differ, brother. What is friendship without some responsibility for the other person?"

Shaking his head, Chris turned back to where he was caring for his horse. "Then maybe it would be better if I didn't have any."

"Friends or responsibilities?"

"Preacher, I'm not in the mood for one of your sermons. You got something to say, spit it out, or get back on your horse."

"Fine. He's holding his own, if you're concerned at all about his health."

Hazel eyes flashing with anger, Larabee growled, "of course I'm concerned!"

"You're certainly hiding it well, I must say," came the quiet response.

"Go to hell." The blond tossed the brush he was using aside, and stormed toward the little house.

Catching the younger man before he reached the porch, Josiah spun Larabee around. "What in the name of all that's holy is wrong with you, Chris?"

Jerking his arm from the other man's grasp, the gunslinger yelled, "that's none of your damn business! Get the hell out of my face and get the hell off my property!"

Knowing he had to keep pushing, despite the man's anger, Sanchez continued calmly, "I'll leave when you tell me what's going on, Chris. I don't care if you hate me for the rest of our lives, I'm not going to leave here without some answers. Vin's convinced that he's done something to make you hate him, Buck's likely to shoot you the next time he sees you, and the rest of us are just trying to figure out what the hell happened. Now, if you want to see the friendships we've built go to hell because of your damned pride, then fine. Otherwise, we want to know what happened."

The ex-preacher's voice dropped to a near whisper, and he said again, "we want to know what happened, Chris."

Pain flashed through the younger man's eyes, but was quickly chased away by anger. "Ain't any of this your business, preacher," he said again, this time in a harsh whisper.

Josiah let go of the black clad-arm and watched the gunman stalk off. Then, taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer, he followed Larabee into the shack. As he crossed the threshold, he watched the other man whip around, hazel eyes shooting fire in his direction. Stopping just inside the house, he leaned against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest. They both stood there, unmoving, for several minutes, before Sanchez broke the silence.

"Chris, what happened out there?"

"We were on the river and hit rough water. We both got thrown out of the boat, and Vin got hurt - "

"That's not what I'm asking about, and you know it."

"Well, that's all I can tell you, 'cause that's all I know. If that's not good enough for you..." he let the words trail off.

"Brother, it isn't what's good enough for me that's important. What is important is finding out what's eating you up inside. What was it that turned you away from someone as close as Vin, Chris?"

"I haven't turned away from him," the blond denied.

"Then what do you call it?"

"I... I just needed to get away for a few days. What we went through out there... it was... well, I just needed a break. I knew he'd be in good hands, and there wasn't any need for me to be hovering over him."

"So much so that you felt justified in riding off and leaving him half-conscious out on the prairie?" There was no judgment in Josiah's voice.

"I sent Buck and Ezra out after him... he was doing okay."

"He collapsed in Buck's arms... he's barely been able to get out of bed since they brought him in town."

"You said he's all right." A look suspiciously close to fear crossed the handsome face.

"I said he's holding his own, there's a difference. Nathan isn't certain how soon he'll recover... or if he'll recover." He watched the smaller man flinch as if he had slapped him.

"He'll be all right," the tone of the blond's voice made it sound like a prayer.

"From your mouth to God's Ear," Sanchez quipped.

The glare returned, more pronounced than ever. "Go to hell."

Brilliant blue eyes glowing with compassion, the big man said, "what demons did you cross paths with out there, Chris?"

"They weren't demons, damn it... they were angels!" Larabee spit the words out before he thought. As they echoed through the little room, he realized what had happened. With a stricken look he marched across the room, pushing past the older man to go outside. Behind him, Josiah stared open mouthed, trying to decipher not only his words, but his pain. As soon as his legs would respond, he moved after the smaller man.

He found Larabee once again at the corral. His arms were crossed over the top rail, his head pillowed on them. The bigger man watched him as he slowly approached. The broad shoulders were tense to the point of being rigid, every muscle expressing pain in silent eloquence. Stopping at the fence near the smaller man, he turned to lean a shoulder against the rough wood. Quietly he said simply, "angels?"

"Go away," Chris said, his voice muffled and pain-filled. "For God's sake, Josiah, go away."

"For His, or for yours? What are you afraid of, my friend?"

"She came to him," the blond said, little louder than a whisper.

"She?" Then remembering who all Vin had mentioned seeing, he said, "Sarah."

"She came to him," he repeated.

"Chris, you know better than any of us that Vin hasn't been well, hasn't been right in the head, since the accident. He's been seeing people who've passed on to other realms - "

"She came to him."

"Are you saying that you believe that he's really seen... really seeing... those who've departed this world?"

"I don't know... I just, I can't... damn it," Chris said, emotion drained from his voice now.

Laying a big hand on the younger man's shoulder, Sanchez said, "He saw Sarah."

"I think I already said that," Chris growled.

"And you didn't," he guessed.

Whipping around, he glared at the bigger man, so heated that the preacher half expected the skin to melt from his bones. "No, I didn't!"

Managing to keep the emotion out of his voice, he forged on. "And you're angry at him."

Frowning, Chris said, "at Vin? No, I'm not... I..."

"Then what Chris?"

"Why him? Why him Josiah?" Tears filled hazel eyes, but didn't fall. He continued in a voice haunted by years of pain. "She came to him... she's never come to me. And she won't. She won't Josiah... because she can't forgive me."

"Forgive you? For what?" Then once more understanding dawned. "For her death?"

"She'll never come to me... do you know how many times I prayed to see her... to see Adam? But nothing. She can't forgive me, Josiah, and I can't blame her. Why should she forgive me... I can't forgive myself."

"Chris - "

Larabee put up a hand to halt the other man. "Save it. None of your Bible quotes can give me what I want... what I need. Nothing can... and Vin took the last bit of hope I had of making peace with that."

"Chris, he's ill, he -"

"He didn't mean to hurt me, and I understand that. But - "

"He did."

Nodding, the gunman slumped, his head on his chest. "No one can understand what that woman meant to me... not even Buck, and he was there. She was my heart and soul... and she's gone. And the only thing in this world I've wanted since her death was her forgiveness. But she can't give it to me. There was this tiny hope that she could... but it's gone now. How do I live without it?"

Sanchez looked into the haunted face as Larabee's eyes rose to meet his. The pain there was horrible to see, and he felt a piece of his own soul shrivel and blacken at that pain. Taking a deep breath, he sought words of comfort to share with his friend. To his horror he could find nothing to offer the other man.

As if reading the preacher's thoughts, Chris' eyes reflected even more of his pain. With a sound that was somewhere between cry and moan, he turned away and strode quickly into the house. Behind him, Josiah could only stare at the closed door.

Vin felt himself pulled once more toward wakefulness, and slowly opened his eyes. He was never certain as to what he would find when he did so, sometimes he found himself looking into the meadow and greeting his mother and the rest. At other times he found himself in the clinic, greeting Nathan, Buck or one of the others. Except Chris.

"Mornin' stud," Buck Wilmington greeted him before he even managed to focus on his surroundings.

"Mornin."

"How y' feelin'?"

"Like I'm 'bout t' take root in this damn bed. Wish I could git outta here."

"Well, Nathan said you could go out onto th' landin' any time you wanted to."

Shaking his head as he pushed himself up to lean back against the headboard, Tanner said, "ain't 'xactly what I had in mind. Cain't see why I cain't just go on back t' m' own bed, rest there."

"Well, for one, your bed's in the back a that ratty ol' wagon. 'Til you can stay awake for more than half an hour at a time, it's best if we keep you where we can watch your back."

"Y' mean 'til y'all know fer certain I ain't crazy," the Texan's voice was resigned. "I ain't, Buck... ain't crazy. Wish t' hell I'd never seen - "

"Vin, we don't think you're crazy," Wilmington argued. "You're a mite confused, maybe, but that's normal considerin' the hit you took out there. Man's bound t' be muddled after that, we all understand."

"But I ain't muddled, Buck, I know what I seen."

The big man dropped his gaze, uncertain as to how to respond to the sharpshooter. He had watched Vin during the past two days, and knew that the younger man considered the hallucinations real. Nathan hoped that, when he was better, Tanner would realize that they hadn't been real. He just hoped that the big healer was right.

Watching the other man, the sharpshooter sighed. "Don't matter what I say, y'all do think I'm crazy. Reckon that's why Chris took off like he did."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, hell, he don't have a lot a patience on a good day, cain't see 'm havin' much fer an idiot," although he smiled, Tanner's eyes were filled with sadness.

Wilmington wanted to tell him he was wrong, that something else had caused the gunman to act as he had since their return. The truth of it was, though, that he couldn't.

"Reckon he'd been ashamed a ridin' in here with me, me bein' crazy 'n all - "

"You ain't crazy!"

With a slow, easy grin, the sharpshooter said, "'bliged Buck, but yer just 's worried I'm crazy 's th' others are. Hell, I cain't blame y' fer thinkin' that, 'n I 'preciate y' givin' me th' benefit of a doubt. Sarah told me y' always did look fer that silver linin', even durin' th' worst storms."

Wilmington felt a surge of emotion, a mixture of anger and sadness. Chris rarely spoke of his dead family, and if he did it was usually when it was just the two of them. It seemed almost sacrilegious for the ex-bounty hunter to speak of her so casually.

Seemingly oblivious to the big man's discomfort, Vin went on. "She told me that, back when Chris was courtin' 'r, it was you that kept him 'n Hank from killin' each other. Y'd go t' one then th' other, smoothin' out their ruffled feathers. Said you was th' true 'cock a th' walk', not them, cos it takes a big man t' make peace."

Buck stared at the smaller man, a chill coursing through him as he spoke. He couldn't remember the number of times Sarah had said that to him, that it had been his strength and compassion that had made it possible for her to marry Chris. Even though nothing could make Hank Connolly accept the marriage, he disappeared from his daughter's life

without making their life together any more difficult than it was.

"She said y' ought'n't t', but y' always seemed t' feel bad that y' couldn't get Hank t' make peace with th' marriage 'n come 'round t' th' house."

"Wasn't like I didn't try," Buck said, his voice soft as the memories took over. "Went out t' that fool's house I can't tell how many times, tryin' to get him t' go out t' Larabees for Sunday dinner. But he wouldn't, he'd..." his voice trailed off and he stared at the man in the bed. There was no way Vin could know that. No one knew of those trips but he and Sarah. They had never told Chris. It wasn't that the blond wouldn't agree to their plan, far from it. He carried a load of guilt over the fact that he had come between Hank and Sarah, and they didn't want to make it even worse. They had hoped that, eventually, Connolly would come to terms with his daughter's choice of a daughter and come to visit.

Leaping to his feet, the big ladies man strode over to the bed. He tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing several times before he gave up. He shook his head, his eyes wide and filled with tears. Scrubbing a rough hand across his face, he tried to speak again, but still couldn't find words. Raising his hands, he backed away several steps, then turned and fled from the room.

Behind him, Vin sighed. It seemed that he was getting very good at chasing folks off lately. Throwing back the blankets, he decided it was time that he started working on getting them back. Easing his legs over the side of the bed, he pushed himself up, swaying as he gained his feet. Riding out the feelings of nausea and vertigo, he finally managed to take a few steps, dropping to the chair, where his boots and his clothes lay. It took some time, but finally he was dressed. He was thankful that no one had come up to check on him after Buck's quick departure, he was too tired to argue at the moment.

Taking a deep breath, he stood again, one hand going to scrub his face. One step at a time, he moved to the door, then the landing. Cautiously he moved down the stairs and headed for the livery. He had to go make peace with Chris and then, if it came down to it, he would leave.

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, tenderly brushing his fingertips along the neat stitches of his quilt. Their quilt. Hanging out on the clothesline, it was the only thing that survived the fire. It was his only tangible reminder of the life he had once enjoyed. From time to time a tear dropped on the material, joining the stains left there by all the others he had shed over the years.

He had heard Josiah ride away some time ago. He felt relief in the fact that he was alone again, but at the same time he wished the man had stayed. If ever he needed the former preacher's wisdom, it was now. But he couldn't ask for it, couldn't reveal to the others how lost he felt. The love of his life, the only woman who had seen him for who and what he was and still loved him, chose not to reveal herself to him. Instead, she came to his best friend. Vin had given him no message of forgiveness. Not that he had really expected any. He told himself over and over again that Sarah could never forgive him for not being there when she and Adam had died. But deep down there had always been hope.

Until now.

Vin sat slumped in the saddle, the pain in his head growing with each step Peso took. He fought to keep his seat, the injury coupled with the days of inactivity combining to threaten his mission. It had taken him a lot longer than normal to tack the big black, even though he behaved himself for once. Climbing up onto the saddle had taken most of his remaining strength, but when it was gone he still had determination.

/You always did have your Pa's grit./

He smiled, his mother appearing to him as the meadow opened up before him once more. /Part a bein' a Tanner?/

She laughed, /sometimes I think it was the biggest part of his being a Tanner./

/I think it has something to do with being a man./ It was Sarah, coming to stand beside his mother. He realized once more that time seemed to have no bearing on this place, Sarah was the same age as his mother.

/Reckon it does take some doin' t' git us off a trail,/ he agreed.

/No more so than that stubborn husband of mine,/ Sarah said. Her smile faded, sadness filling her beautiful features. /Vin, I need you to talk to him for me./

Nodding, the injured man said, /I'd be honored to, Mrs. Larabee./

The blond's head came up as he heard the sound of a single rider approaching. The horse was walking slowly, but he still recognized the spirited step. Peso. Taking a deep breath, he folded the quilt and lay it at the foot of the bed reverently. Standing, he stepped to the door and pulled it open hesitantly. The gunman watched as Vin Tanner approached, slumped over in his saddle. Cursing softly, he hurried across the dusty yard and took the big black's halter. He looked up into the sharpshooter's face, seeing that his eyes were closed. The look of pain deeply etched in the finely chiseled features told him that Tanner wasn't unconscious, though.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Larabee growled.

Glassy blue eyes opened half way, sandy brows furrowing in a frown. "Helluva welcome."

"I'd kick your ass if I thought it would do any good, would that be better?"

Broad mouth turning up in a small smile, the sharpshooter said, "and y' would, too. C'n I step down for I fall outta th' saddle?"

Reaching out a hand, Larabee helped his friend down. Once the lanky man was on the ground, he swayed for a minute, holding on to him for dear life. When Chris thought he was steady enough, he led him to the little shack. Leaving Tanner stretched out on the bed, he went back outside and tended Peso. Freeing the big animal to the corral, he turned to see Vin scuffing out to the porch. Muttering under his breath, he strode across the dusty yard and guided the sharpshooter to a chair. "You're doing your damndest to kill yourself. Hope you've got a good reason."

Nodding, the younger man said, "needed t' come make m' peace with y', pard."

"Ain't no need," Larabee argued.

"Th' hell there ain't. I ain't fer certain what I did, Chris, but I'm sorry. Never meant t' cause y' t' hate me."

"I don't hate you," Larabee said honestly.

"Sure seems like 't."

"It's not you I'm angry at, Vin. Hell, I'm not even certain if it's anger I'm feeling."

"Well, whatever it is, I'd appreciate if y'd tell me what I c'n do t' make 't up to y'."

Chris looked into the wide blue eyes and saw the sincerity there, mixed with confusion and pain. "Can't see to be part of anyone's life without hurting them," he said in frustration.

Shaking his head, Tanner said, "wasn't yer fault Chris. I know I done somethin' t' hurt y'. But I hope y' b'lieve me when I say it wasn't on purpose."

Pulling up a second chair, Larabee dropped to the seat. His voice was little more than a whisper as he said, "I know that, pard. Reckon I've known it all along. It's just that, well, when you started talking about Sarah... it's just... I... it hurt so bad. I've prayed so many times that I could have one more chance to see her... to say I'm sorry."

"She says it ain't fer you t' 'poligize," Tanner said.

Chris looked around, "is she here?"

Shrugging, Vin said, "could be, but I ain't seein' 'r... ain't seein' none of it. Ain't certain why, but I got th' feelin' I ain't gonna see that meadow again... not for th' time bein' any way."

"But she told you... when?" Larabee stumbled over the words.

"Saw 'm while I's on th' way out here, Sarah, Mama, Miss Nettie... all of 'm. Sarah asked me t' talk to y', help y' see that y' ain't done a thing she needs t' forgive."

"But that night... if I had come home..."

"Y' didn't know, y' couldn't. She knows that, if y' had a known, y' would a been there."

Nodding, the blond said, "I would have... Lord help me, I would have."

"She knows that, Chris."

"I wish she could tell me that... I mean, I appreciate the words, pard, but - "

"She's tried, ever' day since she... since she's been gone. She ain't left y', pard, she's never far away. She said that, watchin' y' put yerself through hell after her 'n Adam died was th' hardest thing she's ever done. But seein' y' findin' something decent t' work at's been the best thing she could a hoped for."

Larabee dropped his head, studying the hard packed dirt beneath his feet. "I'm so sorry, sweet woman... I didn't realize."

To his surprise, the former bounty hunter chuckled. As he glared at the other man, Vin said, "she knows that, too. Says y'd a been a bit more discreet visitin' some a them sportin' women if y' had."

Tear-filled eyes widening at the comment, the blond couldn't help but laugh himself. Blushing, he said, "reckon she's got a point."

Growing serious once more, Vin said, "she still loves you Chris... she's never stopped. And she knows you still love her, too. Says ain't nothin' c'n change that fer either a y', but she don't want y' t' stop livin' yer life cos her 'n Adam's gone. She asked me to tell y' that, if y' wanna honor her mem'ry, you'll take every chance at happiness y' c'n find."

Chris felt the tears begin to fall, but didn't care. His redemption had come, delivered by a scruffy, half-civilized messenger. Looking into the eyes of his on particular guardian angel, he tried to swallow past the knot in his throat. Unable to find words to express his gratitude, he simply nodded.

Tanner hadn't delivered all of his message, and he went on to relay everything that Sarah had said. Larabee sat quietly, taking in every word. Neither of them heard the riders approaching the little shack a short time later.

Reining in their horses, the five other peacekeepers exchanged relieved looks. Buck shook his head, a smiled finally replacing the frown that had resided on his handsome face for days now. He still didn't understand what had happened, but it looked like Vin had finally been able to convince Chris of the reality of his visions. Having had a taste of their truth himself, he could only imagine how his old friend was feeling at the moment. He watched as the blond leaned forward, gripping the other man's forearm.

"Well, boys, looks like things're gonna get back to normal real soon," he said happily. The others nodded in agreement.

 The End.