Chris had an awful lot of respect for Nathan’s knowledge, but he was sure the healer was wrong. This ride would kill him. They had damn well better find that scrawny Texan soon. And he had damn well better be alive.

The two men traveled the road to home slowly and deliberately, their eyes peeled for anything unusual that may lead to their friend. Nathan continuously rode off to the surrounding rocky areas where Vin might have gone to rest or take cover, checking every nook and crevice for a sign of the man.

The wagon with their friends had long since passed them by, and it was going at a snail’s pace. Nathan realized it would be well into the night before his friends made it home, but at least they would not spend another night on the ground. Unfortunately, he could not say the same for him and Chris. He looked over at the gunslinger. The blond looked terrible, and he hoped he hadn’t lied when he said this ride wouldn’t kill him.

"Chris, maybe we should hold up for the night," Nathan suggested.

"No."

"We could miss something in the dark," Jackson tried again.

"Something? You mean Vin, don’t you? He’s not a ‘thing’ – we’re not looking for a body. Stop talking like he’s dead," Chris retorted sharply.

Nathan knew it was pain and fear and frustration talking. Knew, too, that he deserved it. He’d spoken to Vin in much the same way two long days ago. But right now, his concern for the gunman overrode all else. "It’s getting dark, and you’re tired. We’ll start out again at first light."

"We’ve got another hour of light left and we’re not stop . . ." he paused and frowned at the crossroads before them. "Where’s this road go?"

"Leads to Nettie Wells’ place. Why?"

Of course. Vin would go to Nettie’s for help. He could get there quicker and borrow a horse. Except that she wasn’t there. Chris had heard Travis telling the others about the destruction of her home. But Vin couldn’t have known that.

"Turn here," Larabee ordered.

It didn’t take long for Nathan to follow Chris’s logic. If Vin had went to Nettie’s, it would explain why he hadn’t been seen on the main trail. Unfortunately, it still meant he must be lying hurt somewhere.

It took only fifteen minutes to find him. Had he made it another dozen yards, he’d have been seen by the search party. He lay on his stomach, with his face turned away from them, but there was no mistaking the hide coat and long, brown hair.

Chris felt his entire body go numb – the previous pain and weariness gone. He slid off his horse clumsily, unaware of his inadvertent grunts and moans; unaware of Nathan’s hands guiding him. Stumbling to where his best friend lay unmoving and silent, he lowered himself to the ground with no thought other than that Vin had to be alive. Turning the tracker over with strength he’d thought long gone, he experienced a myriad of emotions. Hope, for by the warmth of his body, it was apparent his friend still lived, desperation at the condition of his battered face and chest and limbs - and anger.

Turning in a rage to Nathan, who knelt beside him, he asked coldly, "What the hell were you thinking?"

Jackson swallowed and answered softly, "Reckon I wasn’t. Reckon neither of us was thinkin’ real clear."

Now Chris had a better idea what had been going on in the ex-slave’s head - the reason he was so determined to search for Vin rather than leave it in the hands of others. He felt guilty. And from the look of things – from the look of Vin, he should feel guilty.

Nathan moved to the other side of the fallen tracker and laid a hand against his bruised forehead. The heat that radiated from the man was no surprise to the experienced healer. Vin no doubt suffered from the heat of the sun, as well as infection from an unknown source. He swiftly removed the buckskin coat, and stifled a groan at the ugly bruising on the injured man’s chest. No surprise there, either, he had been sure Vin had been hiding that. The arm he had splinted was swollen and discolored, and somewhere along the way, the splint had fallen apart. He moved on to Tanner’s leg, and immediately spotted the problem. A filthy bandage barely covered the nasty gash that oozed thick, yellow pus. Nathan resisted the urge to cry at Vin’s pathetic attempt to care for the wound. Dear God, why hadn’t he checked? Why hadn’t he insisted the man let him see to him first? Why hadn’t he stopped him?

As he built another fire, and faced another long night tending another injured friend, Nathan closed himself off to his own fatigue and despair. Convinced the nightmare would never end, he went through the motions of cleaning wounds and coaxing water and refused to think of anything past this night. Tomorrow he would worry about how he would get the two wounded men to back to town; tomorrow he would worry about how he and Vin would make things right between them; tomorrow he would rest.

Chris had finally given up trying to help and laid his throbbing body on the ground close to Vin. He’d also given up trying to get Tanner to open his eyes and acknowledge their presence. Other than a few sparse whimpers when Nathan had cleaned up his leg and re-splinted his arm, the tracker had remained lost to them.

It was nearly daylight when Chris awoke from his restless dozing to see Nathan sitting cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees. The blond watched as the dark-skinned man lowered his head into his hands and sighed deeply. The healer had worked tirelessly, and obviously unsuccessfully, to bring down Vin’s temperature. Exhaustion marked the man, and Chris wondered if he had slept at all over the last few days. He yearned to ease the burden a bit, wished he could say he’d take over for the remainder of the night. But if ever the saying, "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak" applied, it was now. He could hardly move his little finger, let alone take over the care of his much too ill friend.

Looking again at Nathan, he shared in his anguish, and decided right then not to add any more to the gentle man’s burden. There was just too much damn guilt floating around. Nathan’s guilt for not taking better care of Vin, his own guilt for not talking with Tanner before all hell broke loose, and of course, the terrible, heart-wrenching guilt he’d seen in Vin’s eyes.

"This isn’t your fault, Nathan," Chris spoke gently. "And I’m sorry for speaking to you the way I did."

"Not my fault? No - not all of it. But . . . but I was so angry with him, Chris. I blamed him for everyone bein’ hurt, and it wasn’t his fault, either. Worst of all, I didn’t want t’ believe he was hurt. So I just . . . let him go," Nathan finished regretfully, before finally looking up to meet the gunman’s eyes.

Chris never gave much thought to Nathan’s age, but he suddenly looked years older. His expressive, brown eyes held such grief and remorse, that Chris wanted to look away. But he’d missed the opportunity to ease Vin’s mind and he would not repeat that mistake with Nathan. He held the intense gaze, and prayed for the right words to come to him.

"Can’t even imagine what it must have been like for the two of you. Seeing us all injured, and no help in sight. Think I probably would have done just what Vin did. Would have acted like I wasn’t hurt at all, ignored my own problems, and went off. Probably wouldn’t have let you look at me, no matter how much I was hurting. Sound about right?"

"Like that would have been new or different? Every one of you acts like that from time t’ time. Have t’ practically sit on you t’ get a look at you." Nathan paused, thinking on what Larabee had just pointed out. "I should have tried harder."

"You did all one man could possibly do. And you’ve still got your chance to save Vin."

Chris looked at Nathan hopefully.

Nathan lowered his gaze to the injured tracker. He remembered Josiah saying that no one expected him to perform miracles, but he wondered if anyone had informed Larabee of that. Tanner had pushed himself for days with untreated wounds, no food, and precious little water or rest. Jackson was physically and mentally exhausted himself, and nowhere near up to the challenge. Yet if there was one thing he and his six brothers had in common, it was the courage and determination to do the right thing in the face of insurmountable odds. Giving up now was no more an option than it had been in that Indian village. He gave Larabee a slight nod, which seemed to satisfy the man, and resumed his efforts to cool down Vin’s burning flesh. Maybe he had just one more miracle left in him after all.

++++++++++

Nathan jerked his head back as his horse hit a particularly rough spot in the road. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around him and realized they were close to home. He must have dozed off. Tightening his grip on the man in front of him, he tried to ignore Vin’s gasp of pain. It was a good thing he’d taken Chris’s advice and tied the Texan onto the horse. He could have lost him. How could he have been so careless?

Glancing over at Chris, he was glad he’d done the same for him. Either Larabee was too exhausted to open his eyes, or he was unconscious. Either way, he was damn close to sliding right off the mount. Nathan chastised himself again for drifting off, he could have lost either of these men and not even realized it. And if one of them fell off, he’d never get him back up – he’d had a hell of a time the first time.

Jackson thought on that whole ordeal, and marveled again at how it had worked out. Tanner had started to stir, mumbling about getting to town. Chris had sat by his side, trying to ease the sick man’s agitation, but to no avail. To the surprise of both men, Vin had actually attempted to stand, so determined was he to find help for the others. Nathan acted quickly, and supported the weakened tracker, or more accurately, dragged him over to the waiting steed. Almost instinctively, Vin tried to raise himself into the saddle, crying out in pain from the movement of his injured leg. Nathan pushed and coaxed and goaded until the sharpshooter lay slumped over the neck of the big animal. In spite of Vin’s feeble efforts, Jackson was left breathless and sweating, but the goal was accomplished – Tanner was in the saddle. Now if only he could keep him there while he helped Chris. He hated tying him to the horse, knowing how Vin felt about being confined, but he had no choice. At least not until he was up in the saddle with him.

Getting Chris up had been almost as bad, and left both men shaking with fatigue. Larabee, not trusting his body to hold on even a few more hours, told Nathan to tie him on, as well.

A few more hours . . . the seven miles to home might as well have been seventy to the healer. His eyes burned as he struggled to keep them open. Vin groaned, and Chris groaned back, and Nathan nearly giggled in hysteria at the thought that, even lost in their wounded minds, the two men knew how to communicate with each other. He’d get them home, one way or another. He just needed to stay awake a little while longer, and he could do that. These men were worth the effort, and Lord knows, they had all suffered more than he had. His six friends’ faces were fresh in his mind when, in spite of his good intentions, he nodded off again.

By the time the trio reached Four Corners, none of the men were aware enough to celebrate their return. Gentle hands guided and carried weary bodies to soft beds. Nathan never registered the fact that he’d been laid in Ezra’s own room, the gambler tenderly tucking his treasured down comforter around him. Chris never saw Mary’s worried gaze as the lean gunman was carried up to the clinic, and he never knew that it was she who insisted a second bed be placed in the main room, so that he could be near Vin.

Vin never heard Nettie’s firm commands and explicit instructions as he, too, was carried to the second floor sick room. He never knew that the strength of her voice belied the tremors of her heart as she took in the desperate condition of her young friend.

And he never knew he’d made it to town.

++++++++++

Six bodies lay stretched out on the ground before him. Six? Was Nathan hurt now, too? One by one, he moved past their still, bloody figures. Dead. They were all dead. Because he was too late, he’d taken too long. He lowered himself to the ground beside the man who meant more to him than life itself. Chris Larabee’s green eyes were wide open and accusing, even in death. Oh God! Why couldn’t it have taken him? He fell to the ground, great sobs wracking his body, yet he made no sound at all. Over and over he tried to them how sorry he was, but still no words came out – no sound. It didn’t matter anyway. They couldn’t hear him. Would never hear him again. He saw the great black cloud appear once more, coming for him, and he prayed that this time it would take him, that he would feel nothing more ever again. And as it swallowed him up, Vin was grateful.

++++++++

"I think he’s coming around," Nathan spoke softly.

Chris looked over from where he lay stretched out on the bed. "Why? Doesn’t sound any different to me," he noted dejectedly. For two days, he’d lain, or sat when his back could take it, next to Vin and listened to the delirious rambling of his sick friend. Hearing his anguished pleas for forgiveness was nearly as heartbreaking as his futile promises to "make it to town", to bring back help.

He had not made it to town, had not brought back help, and even though the important thing was that everyone was all right, Chris knew that Vin would feel he’d failed them yet again. As anxious as he was to have Tanner back with them, he dreaded looking into those solemn, blue eyes and relaying to him the facts of their rescue. There was no doubt that Vin had claimed responsibility for the tragic events, and no doubt that he felt a need to make it up to his friends by effecting their rescue. But things hadn’t worked out that way, and he’d have to be the one to tell him. He’d have to be the one to try to make him see that it didn’t matter anyway. And he didn’t know how he’d do that, because the truth was, if he were Vin, it would matter to him.

Nathan was talking to him, some medical stuff about Vin’s wound and Vin’s temperature and how he knew Vin should be coming out of it anytime now – and all Chris could think was that he should have figured out by now what he was going to say when he did.

Buck came in just then and winced at the bright light that poured through the open window.

"Yer head still botherin’ you, Buck?" Nathan asked, concerned.

"Some, but it’s a little better every day. And before you ask, I’m bein’ good." In reality, Buck had decided the agony from the headache was well worth the sympathy he garnered. And "being good" was a relative term, after all.

"JD’s waiting on you, Nathan," he reminded Jackson.

"Yeah, all right. I need to check on Ezra and Josiah, too."

"I’ll stay awhile," Buck offered.

Jackson gathered a few supplies and left the men alone. "How’s he doin’?" Wilmington asked the gunman.

Chris sat up with a groan, and stiffly made his way over to the wooden chair that sat next to Vin’s bed. "Seems the same to me, but Nathan’s seems to think he’s better."

As if to prove the healer’s point, a blinding light pierced the blackness that had taken Vin. The midday sun settled on his pale face, and with a gasp, he opened his eyes – his lids fluttering against the sudden brightness. The first thing he saw was the warm, emerald gaze of his best friend. Not unseeing, not accusing, just relieved, and Vin breathed a sigh of relief himself. At least Chris had survived, and maybe the others had, too.

Chris knew as soon as the tracker set his blue eyes upon him that he was lucid this time. He knew, also, what the first words from his mouth would be.

"Everyone all right?" Vin asked hopefully, licking his dry lips.

"Yeah, we will be," Chris said. As he helped the younger man take a drink, he braced himself for the next question.

His tortured dreams still fresh in his mind, Vin wondered aloud, "Did I make it?"

Soft and earnest and more than a little confused, in that slow, lazy drawl of his that just sucked you right in. Chris searched for the right words, but Buck answered before he had the opportunity to find them.

"You sure did, Vin. We’re all here and we’re all just fine." Leave it to Buck to smooth things over. Nothing wrong with covering the truth just a bit to make a friend feel better.

Vin turned puzzled eyes to Buck. The last thing he remembered was being at Nettie’s. He’d felt so bad, hurt so much – could he have made that long walk without remembering any of it? Turning back to Chris, he looked for the truth in the blond’s face.

Chris took a deep breath. He could never lie to Vin. The man would see it in an instant, and besides, he respected him too much – respected their friendship too much. "No, Vin. We found you on the road to Nettie’s."

"How’d you all . . . make it back?" he asked breathlessly.

"A couple of the horses made their way back to us. Couple more came to town. Nathan met the search party on the way."

He always knew horses were smart creatures. Smarter than him, apparently. But they were all alive – unless Buck was lying about that, too. "You sure all the boys are all right?" Vin questioned cautiously.

"I’m sure." Chris answered without hesitation. Now was the time to set things right, if only he could find the words. He grimaced as he tried to straighten his back in the hard chair, and immediately noticed the sorrowful expression that flitted across Vin’s face.

Buck saw it, too, and determined to make Vin feel better about the whole situation, he reminded him, "Doesn’t really matter how we got here, Vin. The important thing is that we’re all gonna be fine. And that includes you. You had us real worried for a while there, Pard."

He hadn’t even thought of that. Someone had to go search for him, take care of him, worry over him – taking time and effort away from his friends when they needed it more. He’d really messed up all the way around this time. He wished he knew how to set it right, or even better, make it all go away. Mary had said he had a way with words, but they escaped him now. Although, there was really only one thing to say, even if it still wasn’t enough.

"I’m so . . . sorry," he faltered, embarrassed by the tears that loomed.

Buck looked over at Chris, obviously hoping the man in black had a clue what to say and how to say it. Larabee had no problem reading Wilmington’s expression, urging him to come up with the right words to ease Vin’s pain. He wanted nothing more than to do just that – had thought of little else for days now. He just wasn’t sure what he could say to change things. Then it occurred to him - when had he ever had to practice what to say to Vin? Talking with him, being with him, had become as natural as breathing - and almost as necessary.

"Vin, you have nothing to be sorry for," Chris explained. "Even you can’t predict the weather. You couldn’t help being hurt. You couldn’t have done any more, or any differently, than you did. We don’t blame you, so don’t waste your energy blaming yourself." Well, that was to the point anyway, but not exactly how he intended it. Hell, maybe he should have practiced after all.

Vin didn’t have to look at his friend to see how hard he was trying. Chris had said exactly what he expected him to, and exactly what he hoped he wouldn’t. He’d have preferred condemnation and retribution and a whole lot of those other fancy words Josiah and Ezra threw around. But Chris seemed to think it was up to him to make him feel better, and so he’d play the game. No use in upsetting everyone more.

With a nod, and a mumbled "Thanks," he feigned sleep.

Buck raised an eyebrow at Chris, who returned his bewildered gaze. It couldn’t be that easy. They both knew Tanner better than that. But apparently that was all to be said for now. Most importantly, as far as Chris was concerned, was that Vin was going be to all right. They could deal with his feelings later. The gunslinger’s bruised spine was killing him, and he returned to rest on the spare bed. He’d never again take for granted a strong, healthy back. He lowered himself with a soft groan that matched Buck’s, whose head was pounding furiously now. Neither man saw Vin wince at the sound of his friends’ discomfort.

++++++++++

Nathan felt a huge weight lift when he determined that both JD and Ezra appeared to be healing without complications. He still felt badly about leaving them and going to look for Vin. To top it off, he’d slept for almost a day when they had finally gotten back to Four Corners. When he had finally awakened, strangely enough in Ezra’s luxurious bed, he’d leapt up in a panic. For a few frantic moments, he couldn’t remember which man he’d been tending or where he needed to go first. When he found that the women in town had the situation firmly in hand, he couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t indispensable.

But that changed the moment he entered his clinic and found Chris stubbornly bent over the fevered, thrashing tracker. Both he and Nettie had looked up at him imploringly, and he knew immediately where he was needed most.

That was two long days ago. Long days seemed to be the norm now, and he wondered if things would ever go back to the way they were. Eventually they’d all heal, but he wondered if the easy, comfortable balance they’d enjoyed prior to the storm would return.

He knew he had to start with Vin. He took the clinic stairs two at a time, sensing that he had been right and Tanner was awake. He pushed the door open softly, and noted that his patient quickly closed his eyes. Obviously, Vin didn’t want to talk.

Nathan stood for a moment, debating on his next move. Buck had left, and Chris appeared to be asleep. He reached out to briefly brush Vin’s forehead, noting the coolness at last that they had worked so hard to achieve.

With a deep sigh, Nathan seated himself and began to talk softly. "I know yer awake, Vin. But its okay if you don’t feel up t’ talkin’ just yet. I need t’ let you know, though, that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like I did, and I should have done a better job lookin’ after you."

What the devil was going on? First Buck lies to him, then Chris tells him things weren’t his fault that clearly were, and now Nathan apologizing when he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. Vin’s eyes shot open and he looked at Jackson suspiciously. "Am I dyin’ or somethin’?"

"What?" Nathan asked, perplexed.

"Yer all talkin’ crazy. Figure maybe I’m worse off than I thought."

"No, Vin. Yer fever finally broke and yer leg’s lookin’ better. The rest of you looks pretty bad, but no, I don’t think yer gonna die."

"Then quit treating me like I’m some sorry, stupid kid. Y’all know I made mistakes, a whole slew of ‘em, in fact, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop beatin’ around the bush about it."

Stunned, Nathan took a minute to answer. "I can’t change the way you feel, Vin. But I can change the way I feel. I did some wrong things, too, and I feel real bad about it. And I’m telling you I’m sorry for it. Whether or not you accept that is up to you."

Vin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his beating heart. What was wrong with him? Why lash out at Nathan, of all people?

"Course I accept, Nathan. And I’m sorry, too – for all of it."

Jackson reached out his hand to take a hold of the sharpshooter’s arm. "Listen to me, Vin. Ain’t none of us can change what happened. We’ve gotta put it behind us now, and move on, y’ hear me? Let it go."

On the next bed, Chris listened with bated breath for Vin’s answer, and his heart sank when he heard the tracker’s whispered reply.

"Ain’t sure I can. Ain’t sure I can ever let it go."

++++++++++

Josiah decided the Lord really did know what He was doing after all. Thanks to his bum leg, he’d been unable to continue his work refurbishing the old church, and had been forced to resume his spiritual studies, instead. He’d never admit it, but the break felt good, almost worth the discomfort and inconvenience of hobbling about on one leg. Speaking of hobbling, he noted Vin slowly making his way down the street towards the church steps where the preacher had spread out.

It was about time. Josiah knew that one by one, Vin had made his apologies to the other men. It was only a matter of logistics that he was last on the list. Tanner wasn’t getting around any better than he was, and undoubtedly put off the long walk to the church. It was just as well – gave him time to think about how he could turn things around for the younger man.

They’d all tried. Buck, always wishing to avoid the ugly in any given situation, had tried to smooth over the facts. Nathan had appealed to their common feelings of guilt. Ezra had tried big words and glossy declarations to talk completely around the subject. JD had basically just shrugged. Sure, Vin had disappointed him, but as long as everyone was okay, it didn’t matter much. In the way of youth, it had become yesterday’s news.

Chris had hit head-on, taking the practical approach, and had barely concealed his disappointment when it failed miserably. He and Vin didn’t always agree, but they’d never had a problem communicating – usually saying in a few words what it took the rest of them paragraphs to get across. The gunman had confided in Josiah that he was deeply unsettled by the chasm that had developed between him and Tanner. And chasm was an apt description. Vin seemed to have separated himself in all ways from the others, as if he no longer deserved to be part of the "family".

Josiah scooted over a bit as Vin approached, leaving room for the tracker to sit next to him. Tanner lowered himself to the wooden stairs without comment, and stretched out his wounded leg next to the preacher’s broken one.

"Well, we’re quite a pair, aren’t we?" Sanchez asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, guess so." Vin hesitated before continuing, "Been wantin’ t’ speak with you, Josiah."

"Feel free," the older man spoke, turning to view his friend’s face.

Vin looked down at his feet, though, as he said, "Been wanting to apologize for all that happened." He nodded at Josiah’s splinted limb, "Fer that, especially."

It’s not your fault, Vin. Hindsight is better than foresight, Vin. It’s over, Vin. A hundred other platitudes and easy phrases went through Josiah’s mind. None of them right. None of them what his friend needed to hear.

"By grace alone, Vin."

"What?"

"Grace. Favor. As in the giving of a gift that is unearned."

"Oh . . .kay." Vin stammered. Usually he could follow Josiah, but he had no idea where the preacher was heading with this.

"Bible says . . ."

Vin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t mind hearing Josiah’s preaching now and then, but he just wasn’t in the mood right now. He needed to get this one last apology done, and then he’d decide whether he was staying or going.

". . . forgiveness is given to us by grace alone. We can’t earn it. It’s a gift given out of love for us. We just have to believe it – and accept it. Accept God’s grace."

"I’m sorry, Josiah – I’m not real sure what yer tryin’ t’ say." Although it was nice to know that God forgave him, he was more concerned about his earthly relationships right now.

"You can’t earn forgiveness, it has to be given freely, from the heart."

"I reckon," the tracker responded skeptically.

Sanchez put an arm around Tanner’s shoulder and replied softly, "Accept the gift, Vin. Accept the love, and the forgiveness, of your six brothers."

Vin turned his troubled eyes to Josiah’s and whispered, "It ain’t that easy."

Josiah smiled knowingly and said, "Ah, but it is. Take the forgiveness we offer, and then you can work on forgiving yourself."

Forgive himself – suddenly he realized that was the hardest part of all. Engrossed in his thoughts, he was startled when the remaining peacekeepers showed up to join the pair at the entrance to the church.

"Thought we’d bring the party to the cripples!" Buck exclaimed as he handed drinks to the two men.

"Party? What are we celebrating?" Josiah asked with a broad grin.

"Hell, what aren’t we celebrating? It’s a beautiful, spring day and we’re all up and around to enjoy it – well, except for you two. And best of all, Nathan’s lifted the ban on alcohol," Buck rejoiced.

Nathan merely shook his head and smiled, as if they’d listened to him anyway.

"I will definitely drink to that, my friend," Ezra added.

"Me, too," JD joined in.

Vin noticed that Chris, still moving slower than he liked, had brought up the rear, and he called out to him as he scooted over a bit more. "Looks like you could use a seat, Cowboy."

Chris saw the open invitation in Vin’s eyes, and knew that the chasm had been crossed. With a slow smile, he sat next to the tracker. As the conversation carried on around them, the lean gunman turned to his friend. He didn’t want to pry, but he sure wondered how Sanchez had worked his magic this time.

"So, just what did Josiah say to you?"

"Aw hell, Chris, you don’t really expect me t’ explain Josiah, do you?"

"You didn’t get it, huh?"

"Not exactly. But I got enough to know one thing."

"What’s that?"

"I’m takin’ the gift."

Chris shook his head, puzzled, but returned Vin’s warm smile. It didn’t matter. Vin was on the road back, and he didn’t care how he’d got there. He looked up just as JD made a suggestion.

"You know, guys, I’ve been thinking. During our next time off, maybe we should head to California. I’ve been reading about it, and there’s a lot we could see. It’d be real exciting, don’t you think?"

At the groans that surrounded him, JD added quietly, "Or maybe we could just stay here."

Vin joined in with the soft laughter that spread through the group. He still had some pondering to do, some things to work out. But he knew one thing for certain, these men were the best gift he’d ever had, and it would take more than a tornado to tear him away.

The End.