Rating: PG 13

The two riders topped the rise, the setting sun warming their backs. They were on the trail of a pair of fools that thought they could manage to empty the bank at Four Corners. The seven peacekeepers had convinced them otherwise when, along with their eight other companions, their plans had been foiled. Five of the outlaws now lay in state at the undertakers, while the other three were cooling their heels in jail.

Leaving the others to tend to things in town, Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner had ridden out after the two who had managed to escape. They had been out a day and a half, their quarry managing to elude them. But that was about to end. With a single motion, Tanner got Larabee's attention and signaled him that they had company. They quickly drew their mounts back off the horizon, dismounted, and returned to the top of the hill. Crouched low, they peered over the edge, watching the two men below.

"Didn't see us in th' sun," Vin whispered.

Nodding, Chris watched the men, who seemed to be setting up camp. "Doesn't look like they're too worried about being found."

The tracker nodded in agreement, then pointed to one of the horses. "Looks like th' sorrel pulled up lame."

"Reckon their luck's completely run out then," the blond said, a cool smile on his handsome face. He had brought his rifle up with him, and drew a bead on the camp. With his usual skill, he sent a warning shot that kicked up the dirt between the unlucky duo. The men jumped to their feet, hands already clutching their side arms. A second shot exploded between them.

"Best y' forget it," Vin called down to them. "We'll gut shoot y' 'fore y' even cock them hammers."

They were rewarded with the sight of the men dropping their guns, and raising their hands high in the air. With a satisfied grin, Tanner turned to his companion. Chris was staring at him, a glint of humor in his hazel eyes. Tanner frowned. "What?"

"We'll gut shoot y' 'fore y' even cock them hammers?" He mimicked his friend, then chuckled. "You've got to stop listening to JD when he reads those damn dime novels."

Answering with a lopsided grin, Tanner rose fluidly to retrieve their quarry. "Worked, didn't it?"

Shaking his head, the blond started to rise as well. Then, a quick intake of breath spoke of disaster, and he fell, along with the remnants of the ruined hilltop around him, down the steep hillside.

"CHRIS!" Vin called out, as the other man disappeared down the hill.

The two outlaws took advantage of the distraction to retrieve their weapons. A bullet whistling past his ear alerted the tracker to the danger. Whipping his hogleg up, he dispatched the outlaws without really thinking about it. Even as they fell, he was sliding down the hill after the older man. Reaching the crumpled, dirt-covered form, he knelt next to Larabee. The blond was face up, his tear-filled eyes staring unfocused toward the sky. His mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. Surmising that the gunslinger had the breath knocked out of him, he carefully eased him up, saying, "take it easy pard, just take it easy."

Finally the blond took in a great gulp of air, then began coughing. His hands were clamped around the sharpshooter's arm as he leaned against the reassuring presence. Vin rubbed a hand across the broad back and continued to talk quietly to his friend. "Just take it easy there cowboy, you'll be okay in a minute. Y' hurtin' anywhere in pa'tic'lar?"

Shaking his head he managed to wheeze, "dunno...yet."

"Well, y' jus' rest easy then, an' I'll go check on them other fellas," he looked worriedly at the older man. "You be okay here?"

Pushing the other man away, he gritted out, "g'on...I'm...fi...ne."

Nodding, but not convinced, Vin moved quickly over to where the two outlaws lay. A quick check told him that they wouldn't be causing any more trouble. Taking their weapons nonetheless, he hurried back to where Chris still sat. Kneeling next to him, he said, "they're dead. How y' doin'?"

"I'll be fine...in a minute."

"Well, y' look a mite better." He extended his hand, "need a hand up?"

Taking the hand, Chris let Vin pull him to his feet. He grimaced as pain shot through him, from head to toe, but managed to stay on his feet. He leaned on the lanky Texan as he tried to blink the stars away. After a few minutes, he signaled that he was ready, and they made their way to the outlaws camp. Vin eased the gunman to the ground, leaning him against a rock.

"I'll move them outta th' way, 'n go get the horses." He didn't wait for an argument from the stubborn gunslinger, but didn't get one, either. That fact gnawed on the tracker as he set about dragging the two bodies out of the camp and covering them with their own blankets. That done, he moved quickly back to the hill and up the steep incline. Peso and Pony were where they had been left, grazing peacefully. Mounting his big black, he led the gelding and returned to the campsite.

Chris still sat against the rock, his legs drawn up and his head resting on his knees. He glanced up when Vin approached, but dropped his head back down as soon as he saw that he was safe. He hurt, from his the top of his head to the soles of his feet. Nothing seemed broken; everything moved despite the pain. It still hurt to breathe, each breath accompanied by still more stars that obscured his vision. A headache was building as well, adding its voice to the cacophony that screamed at him from every nerve ending.

Tanner settled the horses, bringing their saddlebags and bedrolls to the camp. He sat down next to Larabee and handed him a canteen. Chris took it in both hands, unable to handle it with one quite yet, and took a long swallow. Handing it back to the younger man, he nodded his thanks. Easing himself back with a groan, he sat up now, looking at the camp for the first time since entering it. The would be bank robbers had provided well for them. Ham and beans were bubbling, and a pan of biscuits warmed near the fire. Most tantalizing was the aroma of coffee, and he started to move to get a cup.

"Why'n'cha sit still, I'll get it," Vin said. He still wasn't happy with the waxen hue of his companion.

"I'm fine, Vin." With another grunt, he managed to get to his feet and move to the fire. Despite his words, after he bent to get the coffee pot and a mug, he wasn't certain he could stand back up. Grimacing as the pain stabbed at him, he managed to straighten, although not completely. Pouring the coffee, he was relieved when Tanner took the pot from him, pouring himself a cup. Moving back to the rock, the blond managed to sit back down, although by the time he did, he found himself once more out of breath.

"Pard," Tanner was once more at the gunman's elbow. "You certain y' ain't hurtin' nowhere in pa'tic'lar?"

"Honestly?" Chris turned to lock gazes with the other man. "I hurt everywhere Vin. I'm getting too damn old for this stuff. But I don't think anything's broken; think I've just bruised myself from one end to the other. Reckon I'll be fine by morning."

Nodding, Tanner said, "well then, y' just take 'r easy an' I'll get'cher bedroll ready for y'...ol' man." He winked and chuckled, going to take care of that chore.

"Smart ass, long haired, good-for-nothing..."

"I heard that," the younger man quipped. "Best y' be nice, 'r I'll be findin' some good size rocks t' make yer bed on."

The night passed quietly, Vin keeping a watch on both the terrain and his friend. He had helped Chris settle into his blankets after they had eaten. The still shaken man had downed a good amount of the whiskey in his flask, and fell asleep quickly. Of that fact Vin was glad; he continued to worry that there was something more going on than the blond would admit. He knew better than to press the self-contained man on the issue, though. If Chris Larabee said he was fine, then he was fine; right up until the moment he fell flat on his face in a heap.

As the morning sun colored the sky, Vin rose and stretched, then built up the fire. By the time dawn arrived, he had coffee heating up and more biscuits warming. That done, he moved to wake the blond gunman. Squatting down next to the blanket encased man, he said quietly, "coffee's brewin' ol' timer. Y' figgerin' on gettin' up any time soon, 'r y' want me t' serve y' in bed?"

Blinking an eye open, the gunman said, "sometimes I wonder why I just don't shoot you and be done with it." He moved to sit up, but cried out in pain instead. One hand shot out, encircling Vin's forearm in a vice-like grip.

Taking hold of his friend, Tanner eased him back down. He grew worried when the peaceful countenance of sleep had been replaced by an ashen complexion and a face gripped by pain. "Chris? What is it? Where's it hurt?"

"B-back," Larabee groaned, his hand still wrapped around the other man's arm. Finally the pain eased, and he relaxed with a sigh. "Damn."

"Can y' move yer legs; feel 'm?" Vin questioned.

The gunman moved both legs in answer, and nodded. "Feel them just fine. Don't...don't think anything's broken, just hurts like hell."

"Well, best y' lay still then. I'll rig up a travois, and -"

"Ain't carting me home on one a them damn things. It's just a spasm or something. Give me a minute, I'll be fine. Just need to move a little slower."

Tanner wasn't convinced, but knew the blond would insist on calling the shots for now. He moved back to the fire and returned with a cup of coffee that he handed to the reclining man. Lifting his head enough to sip the brew, Chris drank greedily, the coffee seeming to restore his energy. Setting the cup on the ground next to him, he extended his hand to the tracker.

"Let's try this again, a little slower this time," Larabee said.

Taking the man's arm, Vin slid his other arm behind his shoulders to support him even more. Moving carefully, they managed to get Chris from the ground and to his feet. As he had the day before, he clung to his friend, swaying as the world spun around him. Finally feeling things fall back into the right perspective, he stood away from the slender tracker. Inwardly relieved that his legs supported him, he let go of Vin completely. "Just need to take it slow I reckon."

"Yep, reckon them ol' bones ain't up t' th' beatin' they used t' take."

"Where's my gun," Larabee growled, a smile dismissing the threat. He took a few, tentative steps, each one seeming to loosen the grip of pain just a little. Moving to the fire, he decided to forego sitting on the ground, instead, perching carefully on the large stone nearby. He found that if he kept himself poker straight, the pain subsided. Realizing belatedly that he hadn't gotten any breakfast, he started to ease himself back to his feet.

"Sit'cher self down, I'll git'cha some breakfast."

"Ain't a baby that needs coddling."

"Nope, but I ain't in th' mood t' keep straightenin' y' up, cowboy." Vin came to stand before him, handing him a plate of beans and biscuits. "Reckon yer gonna have t' take 'r easy til we git'cha back t' town. Think yer stubborn ass c'n handle that?"

Chris glared, but chose not to answer. He ate the food, relinquishing the empty plate to the hunter. His jaw clenched with frustration, he watched as Tanner took on the responsibility of securing the dead men to their horses, saddling their horses, and cleaning up the camp. That done, he came to where Chris sat, extending his hand. Larabee considered ignoring it, but knew his pride would do him little good face down in the dirt. Taking the other man's hand, he slowly eased himself to his feet and walked gingerly across to where his horse stood waiting.

Once there, he was shocked at how tall the black suddenly seemed. Pondering how to manage the mount, he felt Vin at his shoulder. The other man pressed one hand gently against his back as a means of support, and steadied the stirrup. Chris took hold of the saddle, and slowly lifted his leg. Slipping his foot into the stirrup, he worked to pull himself upward. Vin slid his hands around to support him, helping to lift him into the saddle. Settling himself carefully, keeping himself as straight as possible, the blond nodded his thanks.

Vin frowned at the look of sheer agony on the older man's face, but didn't comment. The sooner they returned to Four Corners, the quicker Nathan could see to whatever injuries plagued the man. He was thankful, at least, that Chris was able to move, albeit painfully. Stepping up into his own saddle, to which he had tied the other two horses, he motioned to Chris to lead off. He wanted the blond where he could keep an eye on him. Clucking to Peso, he set all three horses moving.

They rode until the sun was straight overhead. Chris refused to rest, sitting painfully straight in the saddle. His face was a mask of pure agony, his hands clenched, white knuckled, around his reins. Neither man typically spoke much, but he answered Vin in grunted monosyllables, not daring to even nod or shake his head.

"Larabee, don't know 'bout you, but I could do with a rest. There's a spring right over yonder, we need t' water th' horses, too."

Chris sighed, then wordlessly turned Pony in the direction Tanner had indicated. They reached the spring a short time later. He let the black drink, but made no move to leave the saddle. After a minute or so, he saw Vin staring at him.

"Y' gonna sit there til we get t' town t'morrow?"

"Might."

"Chris, when 'r y' gonna admit that yer hurtin' pard?"

"Vin..."

"I know yer stubborn 'n all, but it ain't helpin' nothin' right now."

"Vin..."

"Man's gotta know when t' take a helpin' hand that's offered."

"VIN!"

Starting at the other man's tone, the bounty hunter said, "what?"

"Can't get down, pard. My legs are numb."

"Ah hell, when were y' gonna tell me?"

"When you shut up."

Tanner strode over, carefully moved the man's feet from the stirrups, and gingerly pulled him from the saddle. With a grunt, he took the blond in his arms, and carried him to a grassy, shaded spot. Gently lowering Chris to the ground, he straightened him out as much as possible, laying him flat on his back. Larabee moaned softly, but seemed to relax slightly.

"I'm gonna settle y' in, an' then take a look at'cher back, pard."

His pride safely tucked away until it could do him some good, Chris nodded. He began to unbutton the vest and shirt he wore while Vin brought over the bedrolls from both horses. Opening one of them, he rolled it out right next to the supine blond. Seeing that Chris had managed to open the shirt and vest, he moved to help him slip his arms from the sleeves. Larabee grimaced as the other man lifted him enough to remove the clothes, but said nothing.

Supporting the injured man as well as he could, Tanner rolled him to his stomach, onto the blankets. Once again, the blond groaned, but didn't complain. Straightening out the lean, muscular, limbs, the younger man looked him over. Larabee's lower back was mottled, deep black and blue coloring the normally pale flesh. Warning the man before he did, he gingerly probed the area.

"Don't seem t' be anything busted, but yer sure 's hell bruised an' scraped. I think maybe it's the muscles that 'r vexin' y'."

His face a waxen, perspiration soaked mask, the blond said only, "reckon."

Nodding, as much to himself as to his friend, Vin quickly built a fire. retrieving anything that would hold water from each of the saddlebags, he filled them all with water. Setting them around the fire to heat, he returned to sit next to the gunman. Pulling the silver flask from the other man's duster, Vin offered him a drink as he explained his idea.

"I'm gonna get the water as hot as I figger you can take it. Wet heat's usually good for soakin' out soreness. Might take a bit longer, seein' how deep them bruises are, but think by mornin' y' ought 'a be able t' travel."

"Morning!" Chris grumbled.

"Don't think yer in a position t' argue th' point, cowboy."

Larabee mumbled something under his breath, but lay quietly on the bedroll. In truth, there was little else he could do at the moment. He watched as the younger man set up camp around him. From time to time he managed to lift his head enough to sip from his flask, allowing the harsh liquor to take the edge off the pain.

Once Vin had the water heating around a fire, he took the two outlaws horses off, depositing the bodies downwind from the camp. Picketing the animals where they could take advantage of both grass and water, he checked the sorrel's leg. They weren't going to be moving fast anytime soon, so there was a good chance that the animal would be fine. That done, he set lines at the edge of the water in hopes that he could catch their dinner.

Returning to Larabee's side with the more useful contents of the outlaws saddlebags, he produced a bottle of rotgut. "Reckon yer flask 's 'bout empty, pard. This 's just 's likely t' kill y', but there's a chance it'll cut th' pain yer tryin' t' pretend y' ain't feelin'."

"Youre a fine one to talk," Chris replied as he took the bottle. After some thought, he found a way to drink from the bottle while laying on his stomach. After several long swallows of the harsh liquor, he set the bottle down nearby and dropped back to the ground.

Vin prepared to do the only thing he could, to help the injured man. He gripped the other man's shoulder, and said, "this'll hurt some, but it ought t' ease them muscles up."

Nodding, the blond said, "get on with it."

Taking the heated cloth, one of the dead men's spare shirts, from the skillet where it had been soaking, he squeezed the excess water from the material. Grimacing at the heat, he once more regretted what he was about to do. "Take a deep breath, pard," he said softly as he gently place the folded shirt over the deep bruises.

Chris cried out as the scorching heat assaulted his already sensitive nerves, his hands digging into the earth above his head. Other than that, he lay still, praying that the heat would work. He kept his fears to himself, but he was growing more and more concerned that there was something very wrong with his back.

Tanner rubbed a callused hand across the tensed shoulders. "Sorry, Chris."

"Ain't no reason...to apologize. If it works, it's....worth it," Larabee responded through clenched teeth. Slowly, he relaxed as the initial shock dulled. Finally, he was able to relax, the pain retreating from the onslaught of heat and whiskey.

"Hate t' do this, pard," Tanner said, "but I'm gonna have t' change to a new cloth."

Chris groaned, but nodded. He lay, eyes closed and hands fisted in the tough prairie grass, waiting. He felt the comforting warmth of the cooling cloth lifted away. it was replaced by a breeze that seemed almost arctic in comparison. Then, his closed lids filled with tears as another assault of hellish heat wrapped around his back.

Vin cursed inwardly at the sight of the bright pink flesh that shone through the terrible bruising. He questioned the good intentions that caused him to replace those bruises with burns. It was the only thing he knew to do, though. Out here, still a day away from town, he had to rely on what little healing knowledge he had.

And, rely on it he did, repeating the process a dozen times or more. Lulled by the lessening pain, Chris would doze once the heated clothes began to cool. Tanner would watch as the blond's face would relax, the lines of pain receding, and his death grip on the nearby tufts of grass would loosen. And then he would have to begin the process again.

Finally, just as the sun was resting on the Western horizon, Larabee called a halt, his voice filled with exhaustion and pain. "No more, Vin...wait."

"Chris..." Tanner began.

"Please," the word seemed almost foreign on the lips of the gunman. "Wait. I need a break."

Leaving the drying cloth on the other man's back, he unfolded a blanket and lay it gently over the other man. "Alright pard, I'll let'cha rest a bit. I'll get some dinner goin', an' we'll start up again after we eat. Y' think y' can eat some?"

"Ain't hungry," Chris murmured, then said, "I'll...try."

"Good 'nuff." Vin patted the broad shoulder once again and left him lay quietly for a bit. He moved to the lines he had set, finding fish one each of them. While he cleaned the catch, he watched the sun disappearing beyond the horizon, hoping that it would reappear to a better day. He watched as the blond drank from the bottle he had left for him, then dropped back to the ground. He knew that if Chris weren't able to move by morning, he would have to build a travois, and argue the stubborn man onto it.

Tanner jumped up as he saw Larabee trying to rise. Going to him, he said, "what th' hell y' think yer doin'?"

Sparing the other man a glare, he said through gritted teeth, "answering the call of nature."

Smiling in embarrassment, the younger man reached down and helped the gunman to his feet. Steadying him, he helped him a few feet to a tree. "Reckon y' can handle it from here, cowboy?"

"Reckon I'll shoot you if you try to go any farther," Larabee warned.

"I'll take that as a yes," Vin snickered, releasing the man. He stepped back a few feet, allowing the man his privacy. Giving him a few minutes, he said, "how y' doin'?"

"Shut up."

"Ah hell, Chris, ain't no one here but me 'n you. If y' need help -"

"Get your skinny ass over here," Larabee growled.

Hurrying over, hearing an undertone of pain, he put an arm around the other man. "Reckon y' best lay back down."

"Bleeding," the blond said with resignation.

"What?"

"I'm pissing blood," he was angry at the situation.

"Ah hell," Tanner said. "Was worried y banged up yer kidneys with th' bruises where they are. It hurtin' any worse?"

"A little, but not too bad."

Nodding, he helped the gunman back to the blankets. Easing the other man to the ground, he covered him once more, then finished preparing dinner. Bringing a plate over, he said "reckon y' can sit up long 'nuff t' eat?"

"Ain't hungry," Larabee said.

"Yeah, but'cha need t' eat. 'Sides, y' eat, 'n y' put off m' torturin' y'."

"You been taking bribery lessons from Standish?" The blond grumbled, but moved to turn over.

Vin was once again at his side, helping to ease him up to rest against a nearby tree trunk. Seeing that Chris was still in pain, he stacked the other bedrolls behind him. Getting him settled, he handed the pain-stricken man the whiskey bottle, the brought over both plates. Sitting cross-legged facing Larabee, he said, "gonna share a bit a that bottle?"

Seeming to consider the question for a minute, the older man finally held out the bottle, wincing as his back muscles protested. Tanner hurriedly took the bottle, downed a little of the whiskey, than returned it to his friend's grasp. They ate in silence, Vin trying to make it seem that he wasn't watching every move the gunman made. Despite his claim that he wasn't hungry, Chris managed to eat his dinner, partially because he really didn't want to begin receiving Vin's remedy again. Finally, knowing he couldn't put it off any more, coupled with the fact that he wasn't able to stand sitting up any longer, he looked up at Vin.

Seeing the resignation and frustration in those hazel eyes, the tracker said, "reckon you're ready for another dose?"

"No, but can't think of a reason to put it off any longer."

With a compassionate smile, the younger man helped him back to the blankets, and moved back to the fire. Returning with another heated cloth, he gently placed it over the blond's lower back. Once more, Chris tensed, his hands clawing at the earth as he withstood the searing pain. The routine continued through the night, only suspending when Larabee needed a break. While the blond rested, Tanner worked at building a travois, putting it together while he watched Larabee sleep. Even unconscious the older man barely moved, and when he did he would groan in pain. By sunrise, Vin was exhausted and Chris' was more surly than usual.

"Enough," he ordered. "We've got a long ride ahead of us."

"Y'ain't tryin' t' sit a saddle again." Tanner was adamant.

"We'll get back to town sooner if I'm horseback," Larabee argued.

"Yeah, an' yer legs 'll go numb inside a ten miles. I've already got th' travois t'gether an' ready t' tie t' Pony. Reckon we'll leave them fellas an' their horses here, see to 'm later. Now, I ain't in th' mood t' argue with y', an' I reckon there ain't a lot y' can do 'bout it right now."

Chris Larabee glared, grumbled something under his breath that Vin didn't figure he wanted to hear, but finally relented. With Tanner's help, he managed to sit up long enough to down some biscuits and coffee, following it with enough whiskey to stave off the pain for awhile. He watched with a sour expression as the younger man hooked up the contraption of wood and wool, still seething. His anger wasn't turned toward the sharpshooter, but at his own infirmity, however Vin was a convenient target. As the lean tracker came over to kneel next to him, he said, "you're just aching to get shot, aren't you?"

"Lar'bee," he drawled, "y'd be a lot more convincin' as a bad guy if y' could stand on yer own." Ignoring the renewed glare, he helped the blond to his feet and to the travois. He eased the other man face down on the blankets, acutely aware at how much this was costing his friend in not only pain, but dignity. Gripping one broad shoulder, he said softly, "ain't nothin' more y' can do 'bout all this Chris. Might 's well come t' that conclusion now rather 'n later."

A soft expulsion of air was Chris' only answer. He knew Vin was right, but his pride continued to tug at him. The thought of riding into Four Corners on his belly, dragged behind his horse, was more than he wanted to consider. He lay there, eyes closed to block out the world around him, for several minutes. He could hear Tanner moving around, cleaning up the camp and leaving the other horses where they could fend for themselves for the time being. The familiar footsteps neared him, and he opened his eyes to see Vin squatting down next to him.

"I'm gonna put another hot cloth on yer back, Chris, hopefully it'll ease th' pain a bit. Here's th' rest a th' whiskey, too. Y' get t' hurtin' too bad, y' let go a that stubborn pride a yours and tell me."

Chris nodded, then tensed as a burning hot cloth was lain over his back. He felt Vin cover it over with a folded blanket, then cover him with another. His hands dug into the cloth and branches beneath him, his jaw clenched until the shock of the searing material eased. So intent was he on the pain at his back, he barely realized that they were moving.

The day passed in pain, the blond being sparing with the alcohol. It only stood to reason that he more drank, the more often he had to relieve himself. That was something he wanted to need to do less frequently. He was still passing blood, giving little indication that it was easing. Larabee kept trying to convince himself that things would be all right after he had some time to rest, but with each jolt as the travois hit a rough spot, he found it harder to believe.

On Peso, leading Pony, Vin passed the day in a haze of weariness. The long hours of caring for his friend, long hours in the saddle searching for the outlaws, all began to tell on the young man. He felt the weight of it all weighing him down, making him wish that the others were around to take some of it from his shoulders. With a sigh, he dismissed those thoughts, finding them a waste of time. He couldn't change things, he could only do his best to get through them.

As the day wore on, they stopped to rest from time to time. Larabee's mood didn't improve, leaving Vin to bear the brunt of his frustrated anger. By the time the day was nearing its end, he had threatened to end the sharpshooter's life in no less than a dozen different ways. Adding to Chris' annoyance was the fact that Tanner shrugged off the threats with his customary good humor.

"God damn it, Tanner!" He growled as the travois bounced over a particularly rough piece of ground.

"Sorry pard," Vin replied with true concern in his voice. "Didn't see it."

"Bullshit! You've been finding the biggest holes you can since we started out this morning."

"Ah hell, Chris, I can't see 'm in this grass," Vin responded evenly. Inside he was aching to throw the bastard off the travois and stomp a new attitude up his ungrateful ass. He refrained, barely, knowing that it was mostly the pain talking. Mostly.

Finally, the cluster of buildings that they had been hired to protect came into view. He reined in the horses and slid from the saddle. Walking back to where the bad-tempered gunslinger lay. Squatting down so that he was face to face with Larabee, he said, "how y' doin'?"

Glaring at his friend, Chris said, "how do you think?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Vin said, "think y' could sit yer horse for a few minutes?"

"Why?"

"Well, reckon y'd hate t' have the folks there in town waggin' their tongues if they see y' comin' in belly down on this thing. Hell, they ain't quit talkin' 'bout them hitchin' posts y' took down - "

"Tanner, I don't need you reminding me of that." Chris growled, then his voice softened, along with his glare. "Thanks pard."

Grinning, the sharpshooter helped his friend from the roughhewn construction. Pulling the black duster onto the lean body, he left him standing long enough to cut the wooden poles free from the horse. That done, he helped the injured man into the saddle. Looking up, he saw the pain flare up on the older man's face, and questioned his decision. Then, the pain was pushed aside by that keen Larabee determination, and hazel eyes locked with his.

"You coming, or standing here like a damned statue?"

Vin had listened to Nathan dressing him down over 'letting' Chris sit his horse for as long as he did. Then Larabee, finally recovering from being helped up the lengthy stairway into the clinic, had stopped the healer's tirade. Giving the blond a tired smile, he had escaped the clinic to the saloon for a drink and some dinner, then to his wagon for a well-needed sleep.

Returning to the clinic late the next morning, the young sharpshooter peered into the shadowy room. Chris lay flat on the bed, the blankets covering him to his waist. Tanner couldn't help but grin when he saw that Nathan was using the same regime of care that he had. The former slave came into view, a steaming bucket in hand.

"Mornin'," Vin drawled.

Nodding, Jackson said, "how'd you sleep?"

"Better'n I have for th' last few nights," he smiled.

"Chris said you spent the night putting hot rags on his back."

Shrugging, Tanner answered, "seemed like th' thing t' do."

Nodding again, the healer said, "you did a good job."

"Think he's apologizing for peeling the hide off you yesterday," a quiet voice said from the bed.

"Yeah, well, you can see he ain't lost any of his charm," the dark man said, canting his head toward Chris. Then, he turned to Vin. "Reckon he's right though. I didn't have no call -"

Vin waved him off. "Forget it Nathan. How'd he sleep last night."

"Damned horse piss of his knocked me for a loop," Larabee answered before the other man could.

"Well, reckon y' needed it, then."

"Needed a swift kick in the ass," Jackson said, "came close to havin' to have Josiah sit on him."

A knowing smile gracing his finely chiseled features, Vin's tone became more serious. "How's he gonna be, Doc?"

Crossing his arms across his broad chest, the healer said, "he'll be fine in a few days. He needs complete bed rest..." glaring over his shoulder at the snort that came from the bed, he continued, "but he'll be up and around by week's end. Don't seem to be any permanent damage to his back or his kidneys."

"All righty then." Pitching his voice so that Larabee could hear as well, he said, "gonna go back out 'n pick up them bodies." Turning to leave, he heard Chris call his name. Moving to stand where the blond could see him, he said, "y' need somethin' pard?"

Shaking his head, the gunman said, "you've done enough, Vin." Reaching his arm up, he clasped the young man's arm, he said, "thanks pard."

Answering with a broad grin, he simply nodded.