Josiah Sanchez entered the saloon, blinking momentarily to adjust to the darkness. He approached the table where five of the seven sat intently playing cards. "Anybody seen Nathan?"

"Think he's at the McCleary ranch tendin' to one of their boys, why?" J.D. Dunne responded.

"Just got word from the village, Rain’s missing. Not like her to just wander off like that and not tell anyone"

"Not like who to wander off?" Nathan entered the saloon, looking weary.

"Josiah says Rain's gone missing Nathan, " the young sheriff blurted out.

"What?" The healer’s eyes widened as the news sank in.

Josiah rubbed his jaw. "Seems she was supposed to come here to collect some supplies for the village. When she didn’t show up when she should, the elders got worried."

"We’ve gotta go find her, now!" Nathan’s face reflected both urgency and fear. He headed toward the doors that still swung lazily from his entrance.

"I concur with Mr. Jackson. We depart this location immediately and ride out to locate and, if necessary, rescue his paramour should she require such intervention on our behalf." the gambler chimed in.

"Oh…yeah we'll go find her," Buck deciphered the grifter’s flowery speech and lifted himself out of his chair. "I was down to m’ last five dollars here anyway".

"Ah, Mr. Wilmington you have been holding out on me. We can't let that five dollars burn a hole in your pocket."

"Later boys, let's go. Vin, see if you can pick up some sign of her." Larabee threw his cards on the table, rose and headed to the livery. The other men quickly followed him from the saloon.

Tanner signaled for the men to stop. "They should be just over that rise. Don't think they'll be expectin' us. I'll go check it out."

"I'll go with you, the rest of you get everythin' ready, we'll go in after we've checked out the camp." Chris quickly checked his gun and followed closely behind the tracker. Staying low and walking lightly through the thick prairie grass, they reached the edge of the camp. Once there they found that there was no movement and an eerie quietness throughout the little clearig.

"Somethin’ ain’t right," the tracker said in a whisper.

Nodding, Chris said, "I got that feeling too."

"Okay, I just……."

"Well hello boys, been expectin' y’." Chris and Vin turned to see a large man standing above them. "Put down the guns real easy like. No-one has to die………well, not yet anyways." The man's face broke into an ugly smile. "Your lady friend said you boys would come lookin' for her. Now lets go get the rest of your scurvy bunch."

Buck was the first to see Chris and Vin return. He was also the first to see that they were not alone, and it appeared they were the ones caught.

"Now you boys put down your guns and your friends here won't end up with any holes in 'em." The obvious leader, one smalltime rustler named Joe Barton, seemed very pleased with himself.

As the five threw down their guns, the rest of the gang surrounded them. Tying them up by the wrists the men forced the seven to walk to their camp.

"Mr. Tanner I do believe you are losing your touch. I find it quite difficult to reconcile our current predicament with your reputation."

"Well Ezra I'd be mighty happy to change your thinkin' when I get my hands free."

"No , No, that will not be necessary. I do believe every person is allowed one mistake and as such I’m willing to let this one pass."

They were thrown together between a group of trees at the back of the camp.

J.D. leaned over to Buck hoping for some sort of positive banter. "So what do you reckon they want, Buck?"

"Well kid, I ain't no mind reader am I?" Seeing the dejected look on J.D.'s face, Buck offered albeit not very convincingly, "Look kid, I reckon they're just out for some fun. Probably give us a hard time for a while then let us go."

"Hope you're right Buck." Even though he had matured beyond his years in the months he had been part of "The Seven" he was still just a kid and it was times like these that made this was even more evident.

Their captors settled in and were soon passing a jug around. When it emptied one of their number produced a second. They were getting louder, rowdier and more unpredictable as time went by. Trouble was coming, and the seven knew it was not going to be easy to get out of this in one piece.

Charlie Carson, a particularly ugly and violent thug, led Rain across the camp and threw her on the ground in front of their captives. "Hey Joe, let's entertain ourselves with the girl. Even let them watch if y’ like."

Luckily, apart from a few scratches to her face, she seemed otherwise unharmed. She cried out as the two men clawed at her.

"NO!……leave her alone." Nathan struggled against the heavy rope that bound him.

Joe came towards the tall, black healer and back handed him across the face.

"He said leave her alone." There was no denying the threat from Larabee, although he never raised his voice. If they hurt Rain they were going to pay and pay dearly in blood and pain.

"Well, Well Mr. Larabee, what would you suggest to keep us entertained then?"

Henry Barton, Joe’s brother, wandered up to Joe and whispered in his ear. A crooked smile spread across the man’s face. "Good idea. Charlie untie the darkie. Henry, tie Mr. Larabee up over there……on that branch," he indicated a nearby tree. " and get rid of his shirt. Now darkie, Henry here reckons that you might be able to entertain us, and if you do real good we might just leave your whore here alone for awhile." The villains laughed.

"Here, boy, now don't let us down." Charlie approached Nathan again and handed him a whip.

Nathan looked at the object placed in his hands. Memories of another time surfaced and shone in his dark eyes. Pain…fear….hate. No they couldn't be wanting him to……..to whip another human being.

"We're waiting darkie…" Joe let his words trail off, but his eyes finished the thought. The outlaws began to grow impatient after a few minutes, murmured threats a clear indication that they weren’t going to wait much longer. Still Nathan did not move, his eyes transfixed on the object in his hands.

"Ah well, looks like we go back to the whore," the leader said pointedly.

Chris knew that Nathan wouldn't be able to bring himself to do this, but he had to and there was only one way to make him. He knew he was going to hate saying the words…….hate Nathan hearing them, but he had no choice. "We should've left you to be lynched."

Nathan turned, startled at the quiet outburst from Larabee.

"We shouldn't have wasted our time. You're a coward; worthless."

Josiah and Ezra exchanged knowing looks. Chris Larabee would sacrifice himself willingly if it meant the others would have a better chance of freedom.

"It's all you're fault we're here." Chris knew…. hoped… that Nathan would understand later, but for now he had to make Jackson hate him. "You pretend to be a doctor…. ain't no darkie doctors…..never wanted you along in the first place."

Nathan was stunned. This was Chris Larabee. This was a man he truly admired. Why was he saying these things?

"Niggers are just animals, you're not fit to ride with us…..you black bastard!"

A tear fell from Nathan's eye. Somewhere deep down he knew what Chris was doing, but that knowledge disappeared as something he had kept locked away for so long began to surface. He blinked, but he no longer saw the man…the man he considered a friend… who was yelling at him. It was no longer Chris Larabee's back that he saw; not his voice he heard. Before him was the body of every white man who had ever hurt him…..hurt his family. He saw the faces of his mother before she died and his father as he was taken away. He saw the pain of every black man and woman he had known who was brutalized by the cursed whip. He felt his own back being torn……his dignity being stripped away. Nathan once again stared at the weapon in his hand then as if in a trance, he brought up the whip and cracked it across Larabee's back.

Chris let out a strangled cry and then gritted his teeth. "Good" he thought. "Good Nathan….do it……you’ve got to do this." Chris could feel the rest of his group collectively hold their breath, he only hoped that this would cause enough of a distraction to allow the other the chance to work themselves free. He felt as though he was outside his body watching a nightmare. A nightmare that he fought to control in the only way he knew how.

Nathan continued. …….. 8, 9, 10……. His rage was taking over all rationale, tears flowing freely.

There was laughter from the men surrounding the seven. "You were right Joe, this is a lot more entertainin’ than the girl," one of the others crowed.

"Yeah, wish I'd thought of it earlier," Barton answered as the laughter continued.

Buck let out a low growl, his gaze sending daggers through the men causing this. He pulled at his ropes, straining to get loose so that he could put a stop to what was happening.

Suddenly the anger evaporated and Jackson came back to his senses. "Oh my God, what have I done?" He could see the shocked faces of his friends. Ezra, Vin, Buck, J.D. Josiah…..Oh Josiah, what have I done? He slowly looked down at the whip in his hand then looked up to see the bloodied back of Larabee. Chris hung limply, blood dripping down his torn torso.

"Chris……Chris……Nooooo!" The healer’s deep voice broke as the shock of what he had done overwhelmed him.

"Now now, darkie, we’s just startin’ t’ get into this," Charlie complained. "Reckon we'll just have t’ go fetch the girl again" "

NOOOOOOOO!" Nathan screamed and launched himself at the men. Before any of the outlaws could respond, he grabbed Charlie and, with a sickening crack, effortlessly snapped his arm. His next target was Joe, plunging his fists into the man’s face until it was unrecognizable. He attacked them like a man possessed. The quiet healer had unleashed demons even he was unaware he possessed. Nothing and no-one would be able to console him now. His hatred took over. Hatred towards these men, toward the things Chris had said, and toward the whole human race. Most of all he unleashed the hatred he felt toward himself for allowing ignorance and prejudice to control his actions.

Rain, aware that she was no longer being watched had crept over to untie Buck. One by one they freed one another. J.D. slipped behind the others and retrieved their weapons. He handed out the gunbelts to the others and they quickly rounded up the rest of the trouble-makers.

Vin stepped protectively over to where Larabee still remained, motionless. He gingerly wrapped an arm around the blond’s chest and quickly cut Chris's bonds. As he lowered the injured man, face first, to the ground, he heard a single cry of pain.

The others took up positions surrounding the brawl, guns drawn. The tall preacher could see the tortured look from his friend. "Nathan…..NATHAN! enough" The healer slowly turned to face Josiah Jackson's wide eyes slowly looked from one man to the next, not really focusing on any of them, stopping at last at the prone figure of his leader on the ground.

"He needs you Mr. Jackson," Ezra's soft drawl reached him as he placed a gentle hand on the healer's back.

"No, I can't…. I, I did that."

"Nathan, he needs you."

"Ezra, no. I won't. I can't" Nathan brushed away the gambler's touch and stood silently staring at Larabee and then back at his own bruised and bloodied hands. "No…no…no, I can't," he whispered slowly inching away from the group then, without another word, turned and ran. Rain followed him calling his name as she went.

Vin's voice broke the silence. " Buck, J.D. take care a what's left of those men. Ezra, Josiah help me with Chris, he's bad hurt."

"What about Nathan?" Sanchez asked.

"Chris needs us first, we'll find him later. Rain will be with him; probably needs time to himself anyway." The tracker whispered almost to himself "just wish he was here helpin' Chris though."

A short time later found all the outlaws tied and gagged. Josiah was quietly saying a short prayer near a blanket covering the bloodied pulp that had once been Joe Barton.

Ezra had boiled some water and he and Vin were carefully tending, as best they could, to Larabee's wounds. He had been moved to a shaded area just beyond the center of camp and made as comfortable as possible on a pallet made of several of the bedrolls. Standish was unusually quiet, working intently on the task at hand. Slowly but surely he and Tanner managed to stem the bleeding and cleaned all the wounds with the whiskey that the gambler kept on hand. When they were finished, Vin suggested that one of Ezra's clean shirts should be placed across Larabee's back. Without any hesitation the gambler retrieved the garment from his saddle bag and carefully placed it over the gunslinger’s upper body. Almost immediately Chris began to stir, his body shivering against the pain.

"Hey cowboy, 'bout time you woke up." Tanner knelt beside his injured friend.

"Vin?" Pain was clear in the trembling voice.

"Yeah, it's me pard, you best lie still for now."

"Mr. Larabee," the Southerner added, " might I suggest you partake of some of my whiskey?"

"Ezra?"

"In the flesh. Here, let me help you." The gambler gently lifted Chris' head enough to allow him to sip from his silver flask.

"Where's Nathan?" Larabee managed, thoughts of what he had forced the former slave to do.

"Dunno, now you're awake we'll go see if we can find 'im. Think he just needed time to 'imself," Taner replied. Larrabee tried to rise, but a gentle hand on the back of his shoulder pressed him back to the blankets.

"Vin, tell…….him……… I'm …….sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, for what I…….." Chris offered, his voice full of pain, "I said, I didn't mean……"

"He knows, Chris, he knows."

"No Vin, I need…….. to be……… sure." With that Larabee's eyes closed, finding it too difficult to fight the pain and exhaustion he felt.

___________

With the camp secure and Chris resting, it was decided that Josiah and J.D. would look for Nathan and Rain, while Buck, Vin and Ezra would divide their time between guarding their prisoners and tending to Chris.

As they searched the surrounding area, Josiah could feel J.D.'s eyes on him.

"Josiah, can I ask you somethin'? "

The big preacher nodded, knowing what was coming.

"What would make Nathan act like that? You know, I never seen him do anythin' like that before. He's always so calm 'n' quiet"

"Well J.D. I expect he’s been workin' a long time to keep the demons from his past in his past and Chris brought them crashing back in on him. In a way, his words provided a key."

"A key?"

"Yep, a key that unlocked the demons Nathan’s kept bottled up inside."

"But he must have known Chris didn't mean that stuff he said. Shoot, Chris ain’t that kind of man, he only did it to help Rain."

Josiah sighed, "I’m not certain that Nathan even saw Chris anymore. Anger and hate can do that, it can blind a decent man and turn him into somethin' he ain’t. We can only imagine what Nathan went through back when he was growing up. Something like that never goes away, it stays with you all you're life; the best you can hope for is to keep it under control best you can."

J.D. hesitated, then sadly looked up at the preacher and offered, "You think Nathan will ever be the old Nathan again?"

"We can only pray for that brother."

The two continued their search in silence, each wondering what or who they would find when they reached Nathan Jackson.

- - - - - -

The healer had made his way to a stream about a mile east of the camp. Rain slowly walked up behind him placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Nathan, are you alright?" There was no answer. "Nathan….no-one blames you"

"NO! leave me……GO ON!" His reply was no more than a tortured whisper. Rain's eyes filled with tears as she stepped away, not knowing how to reach him. She didn't know what to say. There were no words that could console the gentle healer. As she turned, Josiah reached out to her, turning her to face him.

In a deep reassuring tone the big man offered, "We'll look after him, you go back."

She hesitated, then with a nod and a final look back at Jackson, she slowly left to return to the camp.

"Nathan, we need to go back now." Sanchez said softly.

"I know," the answer came in a hushed tone. The healer looked at Josiah then J.D. and asked "how's Chris doin'?"

"Should be able to ride in the mornin, would really help if you could take a look at him."

"No. I'm no healer…never been one and I never will be again."

J.D. and Josiah looked sadly at each other. They saw clearly that there was still a long road for the healer to travel before they would have him back.

---------------

The morning light found the seven regulators ready to ride. Although Chris had had a restless night, he insisted he was strong enough to travel, and Four Corners was only a day’s ride. If they took it easy, it was decided that their best option was to get the injured man back to town.

Nathan had no contact with Chris, and barely acknowledged any of the others after returning to their midst. He returned to town riding behind the rest of the group. He could not look at the injured gunfighter; he felt unable to acknowledge the blond in any way. Any attempts by the others to engage him in conversation was greeted with silence. Nathan Jackson was there in body only, his spirit had been lost in that little clearing.

They had to stop a number of times during the ride home. They used the excuse of watering their horses and attending to their prisoners, but mainly they stopped to allow Chris some time to rest. Although he would not acknowledge it, their leader was weaker than he let on, and was quietly thankful for the short rest periods on their way back to town. While many of his wounds were superficial, there were a number of cuts that were quite deep. One in particular was much worse than the rest, a wide gash of bloody flesh. Every time they stopped, the tracker insisted on checking the wound despite Larabee’s mumbled complaints.

"Damn it Vin, I’m fine. You keep fussing over me like this I’m going to have to shoot you," Chris threatened.

"If that’s what it takes, go ‘head," Vin responded evenly as he gingerly eased the duster off the gunfighter’s shoulders. They had settled for draping the black coat over him rather than putting a shirt on. Tanner checked the bandages, grumbling at the fact that there was fresh blood on several of them. "Pard, you need t’ take it easier."

"How much easier can I take it?" Chris bit out. "I can barely take a piss without someone trying to hold me up."

Chuckling, the tracker replied, "well, just be glad that we’re just tryin’ t’ hold you, and not –"

"How’re you feelin’ stud?" Buck interrupted.

"Fine. How’s Nathan?"

Looking over his shoulder toward where Nathan sat, away from the others, he said, "well, he’s still with us. Can’t tell much more’n that."

"He still standing off?"

"Yep. Won’t even talk t’ Rain. Poor girl’s about t’ fall apart. Think she’s blamin’ herself for all a this."

Vin shot the bigger man a hard look, trying to let him know he was saying too much. As usual, Wilmington spoke without thinking, unheeding of the fact that his words were cutting through the blond. They gave him as much pain as the whip had the day before.

"Damn it!" Larabee growled. "Someone needs to talk some sense into both of them!"

"Chris," Vin tried to soothe, "pard, they’ll sort it out. Right now they’re hurtin’, but give ‘m some time."

"Vin, this is my fault."

"Ah hell, you too? Y’all need t’ sort it out an’ realize that th’ only ones t’ blame ‘r th’ bastards we either buried or got tied up. Y’all done what y’ had t’ do," Vin said sternly.

"No," the blond said miserably, "what I did…what I said to Nathan…it’s my fault."

Feeling the man tense under his touch, Tanner said, "Chris, give ‘m time. He’ll understand once he’s had time t’ sort it out."

Larabee only shook his head. Vin exchanged a look with Buck. They were becoming more and more concerned that Chris was not going to be able to sort it out anytime soon…if at all.

---------------------

Night threatened to leave them on the range for another night. Vin, riding next to his friend, resisted the urge to climb onto Pony’s back behind Chris and spur the big black forward to a gallop. Instead, he kept Peso slowed to a walk, pacing Larabee.

For his part, Chris seemed barely aware of the world around him. He rode with his chin resting on his chest, eyes closed, trusting his friends and his horse to return him to the little town. His hands gripped the saddle horn, knuckles white as he fought to push back the pain. Twice he nearly fell from the saddle. Tanner caught him each time, easing him back on the broad black back.

Once back in Four Corners, the prisoners were secured in the jail and Chris was helped to his room. While he seemed little worse than he had at the beginning of the trip, his temperature had risen. He felt unusually unsteady on his feet as well, a fact he did his best not to share with the others. After Vin and Ezra had settled him in his room, they met up with Buck and Josiah in the saloon while J.D. was left to look after the jail. Nathan had secreted himself in his room and the others decided to leave him alone so they could settle on the best course of action to take.

After a long silence Vin decided to ask the question that was on all their minds, "well, what happens now?"

"Don't rightly know Vin, brother Nathan's not doing so good, mentally I mean," Josiah was deeply concerned for his friend.

"I know. Reckon it’s a good thing that Chris ain’t so bad off we can’t handle it ourselves," Buck added.

"Yeah, one small blessing, I suppose," sighed Josiah.

Ezra was unusually quiet, absently shuffling his ever present deck of cards. The gambler was more affected by the recent happenings than anyone realized. He had been born and raised in the deep south and had seen more than one brutal beating of slaves in his time there, a fact he preferred not to share with the others at the present time. The images from his past seemed to be constantly colliding with the present, only the color of the skin different this time. Unbeknownst to him, Nathan was having similar images visit him in his room. The scars from both men's past were quietly forming an unacknowledged bond.

- - - - - -

Morning found Chris still in his room. He couldn't seem to manage to lift his head from the pillow. Opening his eyes wearily, the room suddenly began to spin and he let out a soft groan as his torn back began to ache. A soft knock at the door pulled him from his misery.

"Chris?"

"Vin?" Chris answered tiredly.

"Chris……. yeah it's Vin. Came to see how you’re doin'." Vin opened the door and was surprised to see Chris still lying awkwardly in bed.

"Fine."

"You don't look it," came the concerned reply.

"I said I'm fine." Larabee tried to sound more convincing. By this time he had managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, trying not to let on exactly how terrible he was actually feeling.

Vin entered the tiny room and leaned against the door frame. He watched intently as Chris slowly, stiffly, attempted to straighten his back. "The boys and me were wonderin' what we're gonna do about Nathan."

"Where is he?"

"Still in his room far as we can tell, ain’t talkin’ t’ no-one."

"Maybe its time I spoke to him."

"Reckon. Can't do any harm." Vin was beginning to become concerned as he watched his friend's face crease against the obvious physical and emotional pain. "I wanna check your back, change the dressings."

"I’m fine."

"Look dammit, enough’s enough. You either shut up and let me check them bandages, or I’m gonna get Buck and Josiah t’ hold y’ down so I can check ‘m."

With an angry sigh, the blond said, "fine." He said nothing while Tanner eased the soiled bandages away from the wounds on his back. He bit back a cry as Vin cleaned the cuts out with carbolic and gingerly spread a salve over them. Finally fresh bandages were wrapped over the wounds and he sighed as he realized that the ordeal was over.

"You’re warm, Chris."

"I’m fine, it’s just hot in here."

Tanner knew better, but knew it would do no good to argue with the stubborn man. He busied himself with gathering up the medical supplies. Larabee watched him without a word, sitting stiffly on the narrow bed.

"Wanna hand getting’ dressed cowboy?" Vin asked as Chris started to ease himself from the bed. The tracker already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"You wanna get shot this morning?" A shadow of a smile crossed Chris's face as he glanced at his friend.

"I'll take that as a no then". Vin smiled, tipped his hat and turned and left the room. He knew that the gunslinger was trying to hide the pain he was feeling. The physical pain at any rate; the emotional pain was clearly visible. Still, he knew that until he admitted that he was in pain, or fell over, there wouldn’t be a lot they could do.

- - - - - -

Chris Larabee spent most of the day in his rented room. He considered going to talk to Nathan, but couldn’t seem to find the words any more than he could find the energy to walk from his room to the clinic. The blond was growing more tired and listless as the day dragged on; a fine film of sweat covered his body and his back ached endlessly. Gingerly slipping on a shirt, he gathered his hat and made his way from his room to the livery. Once there, he slowly walked to the stall where Pony was housed. Holding out a trembling hand toward the black gelding, he let his head lean against the horse as it nuzzled against him.

"Mr. Larabee?"

"Yosemite. Think you could saddle Pony for me?"

"Sure thing Mr. Larabee, I'll be as quick as I can. Uh… Mr. Larabee, you wanna sit down, you don't look so good."

"I'm fine…fine." Chris answered as he waved his hand wanly in the air. "Just need to be on my way out of town."

"O.K. Mr. Larabee." The big blacksmith didn’t look convinced, but, as did most people in town, he didn’t question the gunslinger.

Yosemite finished saddling Pony and handed the reins to Chris to lead outside. "How long you gonna be gone, Mr. Larabee?"

"Yeah Chris, how long you plannin' on bein' out there on your own?"

The gunslinger was surprised to hear the voice of Vin Tanner. Looking up he saw the tracker leaning against the upright outside the livery. He hadn't heard him approach, but that was not unusual for Tanner, he had a way of getting around without too many people noticing.

"A few days." Offered the man in black as he arranged his saddlebags on the back of his horse.

"Just a few days?"

"Yep."

"Sure you're up t’ bein' on your own?"

"Yep."

Using all his remaining strength, Chris put his foot in the stirrup of his saddle and managed to mount his horse. "I'll be fine Vin, keep an eye on Nathan, alright?"

"Chris, you’re –"

"I said I was fine, Vin. Take care of things, I’ll be back in a few days."

"Sure thing," replied Tanner, trying unsuccessfully to hide his growing frustration.

With a tip of his hat Chris Larabee turned his horse and headed out of town.

-----------

"Nathan?"

The healer sat on the worn bed in his little clinic, listening to the young woman outside. Rain had been standing there for some time, knocking on his door and calling his name. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. He had no desire to listen to her, or anyone else, telling him that he wasn’t at fault. It didn’t matter what they said, he knew better. He had allowed the ugliness and brutality of his past to effect him, to turn him into the thing he hated most of all. He had become nothing more than an animal, unleashing his anger on someone who didn’t deserve it.

Once he had calmed down, Jackson knew what the gunslinger had been doing, and why. He had quickly forgiven him, although the words still stung. The ugliness they brought to the surface remained though, and that he couldn’t let go of.

"Nathan, please, I only want to talk to you."

No. He couldn’t talk to her. Not like this. He wasn’t fit for human companionship. Drawing his legs up, he wrapped his arms around them and dropped his head to his knees. A deep, trembling sigh escaped from his lips.

"Please Nathan. Do not turn me away."

Hot tears escaped his dark eyes, coursing down his handsome face. For once in his life he felt that he could believe the ugly names his masters and so many other white men had called him. He had used one of their instruments to torture one of the men who had saved his life; a man whom he had learned to respect. A friend. For once in his life he felt less than human; he had allowed words to turn him into a monster.

"Nathan? Please?"

He hugged his knees tighter, making himself as small as possible. He wanted to disappear, remove himself from anyone that had ever meant anything to him. He deserved none of it. Nothing. He was nothing. A single sob escaped his lips.

"Nathan?"

He heard the dejection in her voice; the raw hurt. But he only listened as the sound of soft retreating footsteps told him that she had finally given up and walked slowly away. He allowed full rein to his emotions then, sobs racking his body.

-------

"Hey Vin, " Buck Wilmington greeted the young tracker as he entered the saloon. "Where you been?"

"Liv’ry," Tanner’s tone was clipped and angry.

"What’s up?"

"Chris rode out."

"WHAT?!" Wilmington yelled as he bolted from the chair, knocking it several feet behind him. "What th’ hell do you mean ‘rode out’?"

"Went to his shack. Rode out ‘bout ten minutes ago."

"And you let him go? What th’ hell were you thinkin’ ?"

"I didn’t let him do nothin’. He walked to th’ liv’ry on his own, got on th’ horse on his own, an’ rode out."

"He ain’t fit t’ be on his own."

"Y’ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t know!" Tanner was yelling as well now. "Ain’t me y’ gotta convince an’ y’ know it. What th’ hell was I s’posed t’ do, tie him up? Maybe I should’a col’-cocked ‘m? Maybe I syhould’a just shot ‘im in th’ leg?"

"Well y’ sure’s hell could’a done somethin’! I thought you were takin’ care of him!" Buck stood over the younger man, his fists clinching and unclinching.

"Who th’ hell made me his nursemaid?" Vin stood now, unheeding of the fact that he had to look up into the other man’s face. "Seems t’ me I was th’ only one t’ look in on ‘m since we got back yesterday. You too busy beddin’ th’ ladies t’ give a damn ‘bout your friend?"

Without warning the big man drew back and delivered a punch that sent Vin skidding across the floor on his back. Before Tanner could re-gain his feet, Wilmington was standing over him, dark blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Ah, hell," Ezra said from where he sat at another table. Throwing down the cards he had just dealt himself, he rose from his chair and strode quickly across to where the other two men were. "Gentlemen!" He stepped toward Wilmington, placing a hand on the bigger man’s arm.

Turning toward the gambler, Buck growled, "get your damn hands off’a me Standish!"

"Mr. Wilmington, I fail to see how fisticuffs will remedy the current situation."

"Brothers," Josiah Standish hurried into the room, having been summoned by on of the townspeople that something was happening in the saloon. "Ezra’s right. We can’t bring peace to either Nathan or Chris if we turn on one another."

"What th’ hell does he care," Buck indicated Tanner. "He stood by an’ let Chris ride off to his shack."

"I told y’ I didn’t let him do a damn thing!" Vin’s voice rose angrily. "Th’ man did what he done on his own!" He pushed himself to his feet, only Josiah’s hand on his shoulder stopping the tracker from resuming the fight.

"Ain’t like you couldn’a stopped him –"

"Enough!" Josiah’s deep voice bellowed. "Now, you two sit down…now! You’re not listening, either of you, not to reason or one another."

"He ain’t got nothin’ t’ say I wanna hear," Wilmington continued.

"I said sit down!" Sanchez bellowed.

"Josiah," Standish said sternly. "I believe that perhaps you should take your own…advice was it? I suggest we all take a seat." Before the others could resume their bickering, the smaller man began straightening up the area, and pointed his companions toward the table.

Begrudgingly sitting down, the irate trio glared at one another. Hurrying to the bar, Ezra whispered something to Inez and returned to the table. Taking a seat himself, the conman was quickly followed by the pretty young woman. She sat a bottle of the gambler’s private stock on the table before him, along with three beer mugs and a shot glass. Filling the three mugs with equal amounts of amber liquid, Standish emptied the last into his shot glass.

"Now," he said in deceptively calm tones, "here are the ground rules gentlemen. No one will say a word until those glasses are emptied."

"Who th’ hell do you think you are?" The big ex-lawman yelled.

At that time," Ezra continued.

"Look, you fancy-pants…" Vin growled.

"The four of us are going to calmly and rationally discuss –"

"Ezra Standish…" Josiah chimed in.

"The most recent events that have transpired –"

"You ain’t gonna tell us what we –"

"And attempt to find a resolution." The Southerner finished as if he had not been interrupted.

"Look Brother," Josiah said in attempted appeasing tones, "I appreciate that you’re trying to smooth things out –"

With a barely detectable movement, the smooth-talking man released his hold-out derringer. Pointing it at no one in particular, he continued. "Now, I realize that you may have forgotten the rules, gentlemen, so I will repeat them with a bit more force. No one is to speak until the glasses have been emptied. Am I clear this time?"

As usual Buck forged ahead without thinking. He picked up his glass and started to dump the contents to the floor. "Let me tell you – "

"Mister Wilmington, I am quite certain that you would be much less attractive to the ladies with only one ear." His gun was aimed toward the other man’s head. His dimples showing as he smiled, he watched while Buck returned his mug to the table. Standish nodded, "thank you."

"Look, Era –" Vin began.

Redirecting the gun, he retorted, "and I fear your expertise with the gun would suffer if you were to lose the use of your right hand, Mister Tanner."

"Brother, while I commend – "

Heaving a deep sigh, Standish once again changed the aim of his weapon, "as for you, Brother, I would happily oblige you with a new angle on cutting off your nose to spite your face."

Three sets of blue eyes, of different shade and hue, glared at the gambler intensely. For his part, the young man picked up his shot glass, downed it’s contents, and leaned back in his chair. Three sets of eyes moved back to the glasses still sitting on the table. As a man, they lifted them reluctantly to their mouths.

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