The sun had come out just in time to slide serenely behind the mountain range as evening approached. Nathan did indeed build a fire, although not so much for the warmth as for the light and the comfort it offered. He felt used up already, and the true night had not even begun. Used up and disheartened, and surprised that he would feel surprised by that. He thought he would have learned this lesson by now – how everything can change in the blink of an eye. How everything you hold dear can be wrenched from you in an instant.

He thought back wistfully to the previous night. He recalled the men teasing JD again about his inability to tell a decent joke. Vin became the next victim, with his distinct lack of musical talent the target. By evening’s end, none of the men had escaped the sarcastic scrutiny of the others. Even Chris accepted their good-natured ribbing about everything from his clothes to his trademark glare.

Nathan turned his gaze to the gunman now. The men were laid out in a semi-circle around the small blaze, with the blond on the end, in the same spot where he and Vin had come upon him. The healer was afraid to move the man. He feared a back injury, and didn’t want to aggravate the condition by moving him unnecessarily. There was no where to go anyway. Chris had come to for a few brief minutes here and there, just enough to moan and to swallow the water that Nathan offered.

Water was all he had to offer any of the men. He thought he’d experienced hell before, but all of the other awful events in his life seemed to be merely a prelude to this. These men who had become his brothers all lay injured before him, and he was powerless to help them. For a man such as Nathan Jackson, nothing could be more frustrating, or more frightening.

Josiah still lay next to Chris. Nathan had managed to splint the broken limb - no easy task considering the big man’s size and the fact that he had no help. Bless Ezra, who in spite of his fractured ribs, had offered to lend a hand. Jackson had turned him down, of course, fearing the con man may have more internal injuries than they realized. He had accepted the offer of Ezra’s shirt, however, to use as more bandages for JD, who continued to bleed from the wound on his back. Buck needed to be stitched up as badly as his young friend, and he had yet to stir, a fact that worried Nathan most of all.

The darkness deepened and a few bright stars popped up unexpectedly. Nathan sighed as he peered at the night sky and thought of his lone, missing friend. He shouldn’t have let Vin take off like that. They should have thought of another way. The horses could still come back. Or maybe someone would come upon them. They should have thought of something else. He’d never forgive himself if Vin didn’t make it. But then, he wasn’t at all sure he could forgive the tracker if the other men didn’t make it. Still, he shouldn’t have let him take off like that.

++++++++++

Vin had long ago mastered the art of concentration. JD, especially, was amazed at how long the sharpshooter could assume a position of absolute stillness when focusing on the task at hand. He had the opposite situation now, however. This time he needed all of his reserves to put one foot in front of the other. He’d managed pretty well to turn off everything else in his mind, limiting every thought and every breath to the one goal at hand – moving forward. He banished the image of his injured friends, as well as the agony of the various aches and pains that threatened to defeat him. He had to keep going.

When darkness came upon him, he hardly noticed. The full moon provided enough light for him to trudge on, and so he did. Until he slid to the ground softly, silently, and completely unaware.

++++++++++

Chris awoke with a start, and cried out in pain as his back arched in spasms. His clouded brain could not make sense of the agony he endured, but he knew enough to call out to the one man who could stop it.

"Nathan . . ." he groaned.

"Right here, Chris," Nathan assured the gunslinger as he left Buck’s side and made his way around the fire to the blond. "Just take it easy now, I’ll be right there."

"Don’t have much choice . . . can’t seem to move."

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked, slightly panicked as he reached Larabee’s side. "You got feelin’ everywhere, don’t you?"

"Too much damn feeling . . . hurt everywhere," Chris answered.

Nathan smiled a bit as he responded, "Reckon so – flyin’ through the air like y’ did."

The statement triggered a flash of memory – the storm. "The others all right?" The gunman asked weakly.

"Not hardly," Nathan answered reluctantly.

"Tell me," Chris demanded.

Jackson gave him the shortened version of the men’s various injuries, before urging the gunman to close his eyes and rest.

"What about Vin?" Chris questioned.

Now how had he thought he could avoid the subject of Tanner? Nathan swallowed the sigh that crept up on him and mumbled, "He went for help."

"He hurt?" the gunman asked anxiously.

The healer dropped his head. Worrying Chris wouldn’t help matters. Wouldn’t bring Vin back any quicker or any healthier. Wouldn’t help Larabee recover. "He’s all right. You know Vin."

Yeah, he knew Vin. A nagging thought started to twist itself around Chris’s blurry brain, but he couldn’t quite grab a hold of it before he dropped off again.

At the sound of a soft groan, Nathan turned to the next man. Josiah looked up at him with weary eyes that spoke of concern for his old friend.

"What’s on your mind, Nathan?"

"What’s on my mind?" Jackson asked irately. "Look at the five of you! What the hell do you think is on my mind?!"

"Any of us dyin’?" the preacher asked, almost innocently.

"I don’t know. I don’t think so . . . but I don’t know. Any one of you could. I might’ve missed something. Or infection could get you. I’ve got nothin’ to work with here, you know. Ain’t even got anything to ease the pain for y’all. Buck ain’t woke up yet. I just don’t know."

"You feel better, now that you got that said?"

"No."

"You’ve done all you can. Contrary to what you believe, we don’t expect you to perform miracles."

Nathan only grunted and looked away.

"I suspect there are several reasons . . . for our friend’s distress, Josiah. One of which may be . . . the misinformation he divulged to Mr. Larabee," Ezra joined in breathlessly.

Nathan brought his head up to shoot a defensive glare at the gambler.

"That so, Nathan?" Josiah asked. He paused a moment as he considered the earlier conversation between his friend and Chris. "Are you lying about Vin?"

Jackson thought about how to respond, but Ezra answered for him. "Surely you noticed his unhealthy pallor . . . and awkward gait? Mr. Tanner is most definitely not ‘all right’."

"You check him before he left?" Sanchez asked Jackson.

Nathan sighed as he shifted uncomfortably. "No," he nearly whispered.

"Guess that answers what else is on your mind. Why not?"

Angry now, the dark-skinned man raised his voice. "Because it didn’t matter! In case you haven’t noticed, Vin’s the only one besides me on two legs. He had to go. And even if I had wanted him to stay, he wouldn’t have done it."

"True enough. I imagine he figured there wasn’t much choice. And judging by our circumstances here, I imagine he’s right." Josiah added.

"I would also venture to say that our intrepid tracker is blaming himself for the current state of affairs," the gambler added.

"He say that, Nathan?" Josiah asked.

Nathan looked away as he answered, "We didn’t talk about that."

Sanchez had known Jackson for a long time, and he caught the edge in his friend’s voice. "Are you blaming Vin?"

"I need to check on JD and Buck," Nathan answered as he moved away.

But Josiah grabbed his arm and said, "Storm like that comes up hard and fast. Nobody can predict when or where its gonna hit. Vin couldn’t have known."

Buck’s timing was always impeccable, and he didn’t fail the healer now. His long, low groan brought an abrupt end to the conversation. By the time Nathan had reached the lean man’s side, Buck’s blue eyes were wide open in agony.

"What the hell took my head off?" he grumbled.

"That you, Buck?" JD asked anxiously. He stifled a gasp as he attempted to sit up and reach for his friend.

"Now hold on!" Nathan barked. "JD, you lay back down. I still ain’t got the bleeding all the way stopped and you need to keep still."

"Bleeding? JD’s bleeding?" Buck asked as he also made the effort to rise up. Groaning in distress as the vise around his skull tightened, he lowered his aching head back to the ground.

"Now look you two, I need you t’ keep still. Yer both gonna be just fine if you do what I tell you. Now keep still," Nathan ordered in no uncertain terms.

Buck responded with a "Yes, Sir!" as he turned his head to smile weakly at JD.

JD had the most ridiculous urge to reach over and hold Buck’s hand. Now wouldn’t the guys have fun with that? They’d be teasing him for months. Great, now his eyes were tearing up. He just couldn’t help it. His back really hurt, and he didn’t know how they were going to get out of this. But mostly, he felt like crying because Buck had finally woke up. Thank God. More tears filled his eyes as he felt his big-hearted friend reach over and squeeze his hand. JD squeezed back. He didn’t care if they teased him for the rest of his life.

++++++++++

Long nights were nothing new to Nathan. He’d spent more than he could count tending to the needs of others in his relatively short life. He’d spent more than he could count tending to the needs of these men alone. Perhaps this night should have been nothing different to him, but it was. As he moved about from one injured man to the next, he found he could not chase away his fear or his anger. They deserved better. They deserved a few days off with no worries. These fine, brave men he rode with should not be left here in the dirt, fighting off the pain of injuries they didn’t deserve. They’d worked hard and risked their lives for others, and what did they get for their trouble? Nature, of all things, slapped them in the face. They deserved better.

Nathan slipped among his friends, offering comfort and water. The men’s soft whispers sometimes turned to groans, but each carried their burdens as stoically as possible, knowing Jackson had more than even his considerably large hands could handle. The night did pass, as it always does, and the men lived to see another sunrise, strengthened by the mere presence of each other.

Minus one.

Chris had trouble focusing and keeping a straight thought in his head, but he knew enough to realize that he missed Vin. In fact, a vague, nagging worry continued to float just out of his reach. He had hoped by morning, he would regain enough of his senses to figure out just what the devil was plaguing him. In the meantime, all he could do was pray his friend was safe, wherever he was, and that he would return soon.

Josiah cursed his bad leg for the hundredth time. He hated feeling so helpless. He hated even more the thought of Vin out there alone in who knows what condition or state of mind. He hadn’t paid much attention to Tanner before he left, but if Ezra noticed, he must be pretty banged up. He could imagine the sensitive tracker carrying his guilt on that long walk to town, too. Josiah offered up words of encouragement in the early dawn, and prayed that somehow, Vin heard them.

Ezra couldn’t help the way his mind worked. He just always seemed to measure events by the rules of chance. Who would have thought a tornado, a relatively rare occurrence in this part of the country, would have swept out of the sky at precisely the right moment to damage him and his counterparts? What were the odds? And the odds, that of all of them, the only one with any real medical experience would be spared? With a sigh that ached all the way through his chest to his spine, he thought of the odds that disturbed him most of all – what hope did Vin really have of making it to town? He, apparently, was the only one who had gotten a good look at the man. If Tanner was their only hope, they were in deep trouble, indeed.

Buck decided the only way he might live through this nightmare was to do as Nathan said, and not move a muscle. Even talking jarred his splitting head. So he let JD speak up whenever he had the urge, and responded with a "yeah" or "no" whenever it seemed to fit. But his mind kept wandering off to Vin. It wasn’t like Tanner to miss a "small" detail like a tornado looming. Of course, he should have realized it himself, he had experienced one in the past, and he didn’t think he’d ever forget it. Guess he’d just gotten lazy. Let Chris or Vin make the decisions, take the responsibility – he never was one for taking charge anyhow. His mind snapped back to the present as he realized JD had asked him a question.

"What was that, JD?"

"I said, do you think Vin is okay?"

Buck thought a minute. He had no idea – absolutely none at all. "You know Vin, he’s tough as they come. I’m sure he’s fine."

"Are you mad at him, Buck?" JD asked, as if waiting to take his cue from his friend about his own feelings.

But Buck threw it right back at him. "Are you, JD?"

"I don’t know. Guess I’m kind of disappointed. When I was thinking you might die, though, I was . . . yeah, I was mad. Didn’t exactly know if it was right to be mad at Vin, but I was."

"Yeah, well, I guess its natural to want to blame someone when things go wrong. Don’t hardly think we can pin this all on Vin, though. Besides, when he comes charging back with half the town to help us, he’ll be your hero again. Don’t worry, Kid. Vin may have disappointed you once, but he won’t again. He’ll get us home."

JD wished he could be as sure. He had never doubted Vin in the past, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. Heroes were getting harder to come by.

++++++++++

A shaft of sunlight poked its way through the rocky crevice and settled on the still figure resting on the hard ground. Vin felt the light creep into his closed eyes as it stirred his murky brain, calling him to awaken. His first awareness was of the rock-hard surface on which he lay. Not unusual for a man like him who had spent as many nights lying on the earth as on a soft bed, but this time was different, and he searched the recesses of his brain in an agitated, unfocused way to remember why. Unsure if he was awake or dreaming, he saw again the furious storm as it raced toward him and his friends. He prayed fervently that it was just a dream, yet deep inside he knew it wasn’t, and it was that realization that startled him to full awareness. Oh God! He’d left them there. They were all waiting on him. How far had he gone? More importantly, how far did he have to go?

With a deep groan, he lifted himself up in an attempt to get on his feet. Lord, he hurt. He found himself unable to straighten up and he listed to the right side, his entire left side aching and on fire. At least half of him was working right, though - good enough to get him where he needed to be. Leaning on a large boulder, he looked out onto the horizon for a sign of familiar landmarks. Shaking off the cobwebs that had overtaken his brain, he focused all of his energy on marking the visual clues around him. Trees still stood here, the twister had obviously not made its deadly path this way. He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps it had missed the town as well.

Vin swallowed a mouthful of clear water, grateful that he had thought to grab the canteen from Peso before setting him loose. He knew this place. Yes, he was close to the road that led to Nettie Wells’ place. Just over the hill, in fact. Her homestead was only a few miles down that road. Four Corners was another six or seven miles beyond the turn off. The tracker chewed on that a moment. He could make Nettie’s in half the time, borrow a horse, and make up for lost time. But if by chance, she weren’t there, he’d be going miles out of his way.

A sharp pain in his leg pulled him away from his thoughts. Glancing down, he noticed for the first time that his left pant leg was still wet. He’d been so covered in mud, and wet from the rain, that he hadn’t given it a thought. But the rest of him was dry now. Lowering himself gingerly to the ground, he finally decided to look at the limb that had been causing him so much grief. Using his knife to cut away the leg of his pants, he gasped when he saw the purple-black bruising that surrounded his knee and extended up his thigh. He wished he hadn’t looked, it would hurt even worse now that he knew. But the real problem was the deep gash just above his knee that continued to seep blood. Well hell, it was no wonder he’d passed out last night. Vin cursed his own stupidity. There were some injuries you couldn’t ignore, anything bleeding being at the top of the list. He’d already given his shirt to Nathan, so he’d have to cut away more of his filthy pants to make a bandage. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse.

After taking care of his leg the best he could, he found his decision had been made for him. Nathan had been right – he’d never make it to town. But he could make it to Nettie’s if he had to crawl.

Knowing every journey begins with the first step, he took that step and didn’t even attempt to stifle the groan that escaped him. It would be the longest two miles of his life, but he’d get there. He knew he must look a sight. He wore his buckskin coat over his bare chest – he’d been careful to avoid looking at the bruises he knew were there, also. He still kept his shabbily splinted arm pressed against his side. His pants were now pretty much shredded. He had a hunch his face didn’t look too good, either. Nettie would have his hide. She’d probably try to stop him from riding into town, and he occupied his mind with the arguments he’d use to get her to see reason. She was a stubborn old bird, and his heart warmed at the thought of her.

It seemed to take hours to reach the road that led to her, and he determined he might very well be crawling at the end. But his heart lurched when he saw a downed tree along the way. By the time he’d seen a dozen more, he propelled himself forward in almost raw panic. He could feel blood running freely down his leg now, as his heart pumped in time with his faltering steps. The twister had come this way. The proof surrounded him, but still he believed Nettie’s home had escaped its wrath. She had to be fine. She had to be there. He needed her. He had never needed anyone so badly in all his life. His six friends depended on him and he, in turn, depended on her.

As he topped the hill that overlooked the Wells’ land, he thought his heart would stop. Nettie’s small home had been reduced to pile of rubble. He stood frozen for long moments, unable to catch his breath, unable to move. And then suddenly he was there, calling out for her, searching through the fallen timbers and splintered lumber for a sign of life – or death. Finding neither, he struggled back to the small stable where Nettie’s and Casey’s mares were kept. The small structure still stood, seemingly untouched by the storm, but both horses were gone. Maybe they had made it out then. Maybe they’d gone back to town, though one or both could still be hurt. He thought again of his friends. They were all hurt. They were all waiting.

He’d made the wrong decision again. When had his instincts ever been so off? It seemed that his good sense and keen intuition had deserted him. His strength did the same, and he slid ungracefully to the ground outside the small barn. He laid his head on his good arm, oblivious to the tears that streamed from his weary eyes. He would rest for just a minute, and then start out again. But it would take him another full day to reach town, and another after that to get back to his friends. By then, one or more could be dead. He closed his eyes, and the image of Chris Larabee lying unmoving in the grass etched itself into his mind. He would keep that image of his best friend, for that is what would give him the strength to get up again. And that is what would remind of him forever that he was not the man he thought himself to be.

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