Vin frantically scanned the crevices near him. He heard another fuse, but couldn’t place where it came from. Someone shot at him from above, and he heard shots fired below. Where was Chris? He panicked when he found himself in the unusual predicament of being totally unable to focus. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to be still and listen. There . . . not ten feet away. He heard rocks scuttling above him and knew time was running out. He took the shot, knowing instinctively that he’d hit the mark, and took a moment to peruse the scene below. Even from this distance, he could make out his best friend as he leapt onto his horse, and then . . . oh God! Someone grabbed him! Vin felt his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to see which way they went.

Just then, a bullet grazed his left arm, and he spun, loosing his balance. When he’d regained his footing, he turned to see a lean, dark man with hatred in his eyes taking aim. The bullet hit the dirt at the tracker’s feet, and he half smiled to think that, if nothing else went right today, at least this guy was a lousy shot. He had pretty poor judgement, too, since he seemed to think the sharpshooter would take his time responding. By the time Jacob Bell felt the bullet hit him, Vin had already turned back to search desperately for any sign of Chris.

Straining hard to see any clue to his friend’s whereabouts, he nearly missed the soft, subtle hiss of the final fuse. Surely he’d gotten them all. But no, there was one more, and from his vantage point, he could see that it would blow in seconds. He took aim, ignoring the burning pain in his injured arm, and pulled the trigger – and missed.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Nathan and Josiah couldn’t get anywhere near the festival site, and couldn’t see above the crowds, in spite of their large builds. Sanchez was about to suggest they go to higher ground when he heard the pop of a mare’s leg up in the hills. Both men lifted their heads and peered skyward. It sounded like the familiar bark of Vin’s weapon.

After the second shot, Josiah moved with sure-minded purpose. Lots of men carried a gun like Vin’s, and it could be anybody up shooting on that mountain, but now was not the time to get practical. As he mounted up and headed towards the sound of even more gunfire, he felt Nathan close on his heels. Couldn’t ask for a more loyal friend, and the preacher hoped he hadn’t led his partner on a wild goose chase straight into the middle of someone else’s fight. Half way up the mountain- side, they heard the explosion.

Nathan slowed just enough to observe the effects of the blast. Loose shale and several large boulders careened onto the road below, narrowly missing the wooden platform where several men still stubbornly sat. Panic erupted in earnest now, no one sure of what would happen next, and the crowds began to disperse.

Josiah never looked back. He had to move fast. Somehow he knew time was of the essence.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Vin felt the explosion before he heard it, and a small part of his brain wondered about that. The force of the blast threw him into the air and down the slope, the bony prominances of his body colliding with every sharp rock and thorny bush. A deep pain stabbed his side, and he came to an abrupt halt. Five feet or fifty; five minutes or five hours; upside down or right side up – his mind so clouded in confusion that he doubted he could recall his own name, should anyone choose that most inopportune time to ask. In fact, his mind felt totally disconnected from his body, which may be a good thing, he decided.

He heard voices. Someone was calling him. It sounded like Josiah. Hell, now he was hearing things. Although, he sure wouldn’t mind seeing the big man right about now. He reckoned he needed to pull himself together, put his mind back in place. Something was nagging at him – something he needed to do. Maybe he should start by opening his eyes. One question answered – he was definitely upside down. Something was really wrong.

Chris.

Oh God! Chris!

All at once it came back to him. Chris had been taken, and he had to get up and go after him. He struggled to pull himself upright, fighting the terrible pain in his side and the heaviness in his head.

"Vin! No! Don’t move!"

Damn. That surely did sound like Josiah. And not moving seemed like a real good idea for a minute. Vin lay his head back and wondered why he couldn’t seem to feel the ground beneath it. He’d wait just a few more minutes for his head to clear.

Josiah and Nathan sank back on their heels in momentary relief. The tracker lay with the upper half of his body draped over the edge of steep ledge. Only a prickly bush appeared to be holding him from another long fall, having apparently caught on the fibers of the buckskin coat.

The men had come upon him almost immediately, a sort of odd paradox to their long search. But there was no time for rejoicing. Vin’s dire situation demanded their full attention. They would not lose him now. Nathan tied off the rope securely as Josiah lowered himself down to the unstable ledge below.

When the preacher reached Tanner, he reached around to lift him into a safer position, talking softly the entire time, "Its alright, Vin. I got you. Be still now." Josiah was surprised at the sharp gasp of pain he heard from Vin at just the slight movement of lifting his upper body. Then he realized that the bush had not just snagged Vin’s coat, but had actually become imbedded in the young man’s side.

"We got a problem here, Nathan. Vin’s caught on the bush."

"I can see that, Josiah. Just cut him loose and get him up here so I can get a good look at him."

"No, Nathan, I mean Vin is caught on the bush – caught him good in his side."

Jackson lowered his head. Nothing was ever simple with these guys. "Just do the best you can, Josiah. We gotta get him up here as quick as we can."

Vin seemed to be having an awful time distinguishing reality from wishful thinking. Josiah couldn’t be here, but someone seemed determined to move him, and it hurt. A lot. He tried again to lift his head, and sure enough, Josiah Sanchez was looking straight at him. God surely was good – answering prayers he hadn’t even thought to pray yet. He reached up to try and touch his friend, but the preacher caught his hand.

"Easy now, Vin. Try not to move. I need to get you off this mountain, but I gotta start by getting you unhooked from this bush. I reckon its gonna hurt," he added apologetically.

Help was here. He had to tell him about Chris. If he could just get his mouth to cooperate. "Josiah . . . Chris . . ." But at that very moment, a searing pain ripped through him, and he bit back a scream, losing any notion of what he needed to say.

Josiah grabbed a hold of the now free tracker, and with Nathan’s help, managed to haul him up to safer position. Vin’s only response had been to moan softly as the two men carried him to a more sheltered area under the pines. They laid him gently on ground made soft by the newly fallen leaves of early autumn. For a moment, neither man could speak, overwhelmed at having their friend before them in flesh and blood. The sight of the latter spurred Nathan to action. Vin bled heavily from the wound in his side and undoubtedly suffered other injuries. He began to examine his friend, touching him almost reverently. After weeks of worry and regret, he had the chance to make things right and bring their friend back into the fold. And he’d do everything within his power to make sure that happened.

Josiah. Nathan. There were here. They were real. They could help Chris. Vin again struggled to lift himself off the ground and speak to his friends. He felt Jackson’s gentle hands firmly push him back down.

"Stay down, Vin. Its ok, let me take care of you."

"Chris," he gasped. "They’ve got him . . . we have to go . . . after them . . .hurry."

Nathan bit back the response that came first to his mind. He had hoped and prayed that somehow Tanner had faced the truth since they had last seen him, but apparently not. But with the young man hurt and still in danger, now was not the time to get into that old argument. "Yea, all right, Vin. You just keep still now and let us take care of everything."

The tracker continued to struggle and stated again, "We have to go . . .after them. They went up the east side . . . I think. We gotta find Chris."

Josiah lifted sad eyes to Nathan, before turning to his wounded friend. "Don’t be worrying about Chris right now, Vin. Let us take care of you."

No. . . no. . . no! Oh God, oh God! This couldn’t be happening. They didn’t know. They wouldn’t believe him. Hopewell had Chris and he would kill him and this time it would be real. No . . . please God . . . they had to listen to him.

Vin desperately clawed for Josiah’s shirt with a bloody hand. He latched onto the preacher’s collar and pulled him close. "Please Josiah. Please listen to me!" Vin gasped. "Chris is here. Hopewell grabbed him. Please help me . . . he’ll kill him . . . please, Josiah!" Vin sobbed brokenly. He couldn’t move, could hardly breathe, and soon he’d be unable to think. Unable to help Chris.

Sanchez saw the desperation in Vin’s eyes, felt his hand clutching his shirt. And knew the truth. All this time, he thought he had acted on faith – that he possessed some higher knowledge or enlightenment in this whole sordid mess. How could he be so wrong? He’d missed the one single truth from the very beginning – Chris was alive. Vin was right all along. He covered Vin’s hand with his own and gently lowered his young friend’s battered body back to the ground.

"Easy now, Vin. I’m going after him, and I’ll bring him back. I promise you." He looked the tracker in the eye, blue meeting blue, faith and hope and strength offered and received.

Vin groaned as he tried to hold back the pain now making itself known. He needed to go with them - needed to find the trail, read the signs, lead them to Larabee. He could do this. He’d pushed his body for weeks now, he could do it a bit longer. One more day. That’s all it would take to find Chris and set things right. One more day. He couldn’t push himself up with his right arm, it being firmly attached to his left side, and quite possibly the only thing holding him together. He tried to use his left arm, but it didn’t work right, either. Hurt everywhere, all over – but he’d get up if it killed him. Though, he wasn’t above asking for help.

"Josiah . . . Nathan?"

Vin’s soft voice barely carried above the activities of the men as Nathan searched his bag for supplies, while Josiah prepared to mount up. They were at his side in seconds, just in time to see the tracker’s eyes roll back in his head as his considerably stubborn will finally gave in to the demands of his broken body.

Sanchez looked to Jackson. "Can you get him to shelter? I’m thinking of that cave we passed a few miles back. Remember it?"

The dark man nodded somberly. "Won’t be easy, but I’ll get him there." Nathan paused to look down at his injured friend, before returning his gaze to the preacher. "You just bring Chris back, you hear? You just bring him back," he ordered with sudden conviction.

As Josiah galloped off on his new mission, Nathan turned his eyes to the heavens. The clouds darkened as thunder rumbled in the distance and rain once again began to fall. No, it wouldn’t be easy, but he’d get Vin to safety – he didn’t give up on a friend.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Part 6: Regrets

Chris Larabee woke with thunder echoing through his throbbing head. He attempted to raise a hand to press against his eyes, only to find both hands securely tied to a pillar behind his back. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he took in his surroundings. A shack – a leaky shack, judging by the steady of stream of rain that ran down the wall behind him. Anger rose up inside him as he began to recall the events of the day. Daniel was probably dead and maybe Vin, too. He had known they were outnumbered – had known they were in over their heads, up against impossible odds. But the seven had been there before and always managed to ride away victorious and relatively unscathed. This time he’d made the huge mistake of thinking he and Vin, along with Daniel, could pull off the same feat. Well, two plus one did not equal seven. He should have notified the authorities. Should have shared his suspicions with the Denver sheriff and just walked away. Packed Daniel off to Kansas, and rode away with Vin. He let go of a sigh. It was too late now, far too late.

"Well, well. About time you woke up."

Chris groaned in earnest as Randall Gill made his way out of the shadows to stand in front of him. Hell, as if this day wasn’t bad enough. Now he was shackled to a post in a rundown shack that made his place look good, being guarded by the most annoying man on earth. Perfect.

"Didn’t expect to see you, Gill. Didn’t think even you could walk away from shooting a man in cold blood," Larabee muttered with disgust.

Gill looked perplexed for a minute before responding. "Oh, that. A bit of a nuisance, but easily explained. I was defending the governor and that idiot manager stepped in the way, clearly an accident. I was defending him from you, by the way. Yes, I saw you taking aim and responded by raising my own weapon to stop you. Unfortunately, you escaped in the melee that followed."

"Is he dead?" Chris asked softly.

"Who? Martin? I don’t actually know. He wasn’t when I left town. Probably is by now, though."

The gunman looked down sadly. Why hadn’t he done things differently? Gill rambled on and on, something about how the Larabee gang would be sorry they ever messed with the governor. The blond tried to shut him out and still the pounding in his skull. But he lifted his head when he heard the bald man mention Vin.

"We figure that tracker will show up here anytime now. Like a moth to a flame. Won’t be long before the others come, too, I’m guessing. What is it with you and that long- haired fellow anyway? Just can’t seem to get along without each other, is that right? Of course, he may already be dead up on that mountain. I’m guessing he and Jacob tangled up there. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see which one of our friends won out."

Chris noted the spark of amusement in Gill’s eyes with disdain. Like this was all a joke. As if whether or not their friends lived or died was nothing more than a game of chance. Desolation welled up inside him at the thought of never seeing his best friend again. He couldn’t take the not knowing, the not being there for Tanner if he needed him. Is this how Vin felt all those weeks when the others thought he was dead? If this was how Vin felt, then my God, how did he stand it? Now Chris truly understood the desperation in the Texan’s eyes when he’d first found him. He understood the haunted look the tracker gave him when he thought Chris wasn’t looking – as if the gunslinger might evaporate before his very eyes.

And in a sense, that’s exactly what happened. He’d allowed himself to be stolen away by Hopewell’s men. He realized suddenly that while he sat here agonizing over Vin’s fate, it was quite possible the sharpshooter was out there doing the same - agonizing over whether this time, he’d lost the gunman for good. He couldn’t put him through that again. Larabee struggled against his bonds with renewed vigor. He had to get out of here. He had to find Vin.

++++++++++

Nathan thought his arm just might break off as he held his unconscious friend against him in the saddle. Hard enough to ride double, hard enough to ride holding onto a limp body . . . damn near impossible riding this way up a steep mountain in a thunderstorm. Vin lay slumped over Nathan’s arm, his head resting against the neck of the horse, oblivious to the heavy rain that poured off the buckskin coat draped over his head and shoulders.

Jackson had had to move fast. He and Josiah had found a body, Vin’s handiwork no doubt, and they knew others would be coming to investigate the explosion soon. Not knowing where the battle lines had been drawn, and who stood on each side of them, they decided not to take any chances. They’d hide Vin, find Chris, and sort it all out later. That was the plan. But Nathan didn’t have an easy time with his part of it. He had quickly thrown a bandage on Tanner’s bloody side and roused him enough to get him up into the saddle. He’d even managed to find out where Peso was tethered, before the tracker succumbed to the blackness again.

But there had been no real response from the man since then, other than an occasional half-hearted attempt at a cough, followed by a low moan. Nathan wished he had gotten more of a chance to look his friend over, but it would have to wait until they reached the cave.

Glancing behind him, he saw no one on his tail. Hopefully, the rain would wash away his tracks. Conversely, he hoped the rain hadn’t washed away the tracks of whoever had Chris – if Chris was truly alive. Nathan sighed as he shifted his grip on Vin. How did everything get so mixed up? Seemed like every time he thought they were on the right track, a new problem popped up and everything he thought he knew turned out to be just plain wrong.

He figured they’d been riding a few hours, although it felt like days to the weary former slave. He began to despair of ever reaching the planned meeting place, when it magically appeared before him. Guiding the horses under the large overhang of the sheltered dwelling, he breathed a sigh of relief. In spite of his assurances to Josiah, he wasn’t at all sure he could find the place in this storm.

Getting down without dropping his patient on his head proved to be almost as difficult as getting up had been. As it was, both men ended up in something of a heap on the hard ground, Vin releasing a sharp groan as Nathan attempted to untangle them. The healer promptly unfastened his bed roll and spread it out near the far wall of the cavern. The damp bedding would soften the rock hard dirt, and offer some warmth, but not enough. He could build a fire near the entrance, but this particular shelter didn’t come equipped with the luxury of dry wood. Still, it felt good to be out of the wind and water.

Picking Vin up under his limp arms, Nathan slowly and carefully dragged him over to rest on the makeshift bed. Already not liking the rattle he heard in the tracker’s breathing, he propped the injured man’s head up on a blanket- covered saddle bag. The light from the oil lamp he carried soon filled the dreary area. It wasn’t a large cave, but big enough to shelter several men, and fortunately, no other living creature shared it at the moment.

Nathan stripped out of his wet clothes and changed into the damp, but considerably drier spares he carried in his bag. He then attempted to do the same for Vin. The injured man stirred at the sudden jarring of his body and opened cloudy blue eyes.

"Its all right, Vin – just getting these wet things off you. Need to take a look at you, too. See where all yer hurt."

"Everywhere . . . near as I can tell." The young man paused for a breath before asking with more than a hint of desperation, "Chris?"

"Josiah’s gone for him. Remember?"

"Peso?"

Nathan chuckled softly. "He’s here, too. Quit yer worryin’."

"Need t’ ride. Need t’ find Chris." Vin rasped, as a wet cough erupted from his aching chest.

By the clenched jaw and eyes shut tight, Nathan knew how much the act had hurt his friend. "Easy now. You know you can’t ride right now. You got to put yer trust in Josiah. Can you do that, Vin?"

Could he? Did he have a choice? If only he hadn’t missed that last shot, he wouldn’t be laying here all broken up. If only. But it couldn’t be helped now. His best friend’s life lay in the preacher’s hands.

He answered Nathan’s question with a heartbroken sigh that became a long, low moan as the healer prodded his rib cage.

"Looks like you cracked a few ribs. No limbs, though. That’s good. Need to wrap up that graze on yer arm, too, but it should be okay. Banged up and bruised up, but no broken bones that I can see."

Was he supposed to respond to that? Funny the thoughts that ran through a man’s head when he was lying half dead on the cold, hard ground. He supposed he should be grateful about the no broken bones part, but right now, he’d trade an arm and a leg to get rid of the pain in his side. He wondered if Nathan knew about that, if maybe he should mention it. Just then, the dark-skinned man pulled off the bandage, and it was all Vin could do not to scream. It felt like a hot knife lay deep inside him, twisting with every movement he made. He glanced up to see Nathan’s furrowed brow as he studied the wound. No need to mention it.

Jackson tried to ease Tanner over on to his side to get a better look at the wound. He knew he’d hurt him, by his sharp gasp of pain, and he was almost afraid of what he’d find. The limb of the bush that had saved Vin’s life, had speared a nasty hole in the lower left side of the tracker’s back. Bad enough, and the possibility of infection almost certain. But even worse, Nathan could see another piece of wood imbedded up under his friend’s skin. Already, the body had begun to heal over the opening, sealing the foreign object deep inside. He couldn’t know for certain how big it was, or how deep it went – but it had to come out and soon.

Nathan dropped his head into his hands. No, it was never easy with these guys. He needed a fire. He needed hot water. He needed more light. He needed help.

++++++++++

Help was on the way, albeit not as quickly as Jackson would have liked. The remaining three of the seven had forgone the easier, more traveled trails for the most direct routes possible in order to reach their destination. But still they could not make Denver by Sunday.

Buck had pushed his companions mercilessly, determined to find his friend’s killer and exact his revenge. One way or another, though he admitted he had no idea how he would go about it. He just needed to get there first, then he’d decide what to do - unless, of course, Vin or Nathan or Josiah had already done it. He felt certain that Sanchez and Jackson had followed Vin there, why else would they go? And if Tanner went to Denver, it was no coincidence. He’d obviously figured out who had killed Chris and had plans of his own. Buck had it all worked out in his mind. It could all be over by the time they got there, but he kind of hoped not. He kind of hoped he’d be the one to put a bullet in Hopewell’s brain. Of course, he could be wrong. Vin may not be there, and the others may have no idea what Ezra had discovered. Therefore, Hopewell could just ride on home – free and clear – again. Which was precisely why he pushed JD and Ezra so hard. The devil wasn’t getting away with this. He owed it to Chris.

JD knew the other men thought he never ran out of energy, but they were wrong. Boy, were they wrong. He wanted to lay down and sleep for a week, and he never, ever wanted to see another mountain sunrise as long as he lived. He tried to get Buck’s attention, but he rode too far ahead. Maybe if he just fell off his horse, Wilmington would get the idea. Then again, he probably wouldn’t even miss him. The rogue was so driven, he had no thought for anything else.

JD worried about his friend. He couldn’t just ride in and kill a governor. And they really had nothing to prove their allegations except a bottle of whiskey. They might condemn a man like Vin on circumstantial evidence, but not a man like Governor Hopewell. No, Buck would be hanging from the nearest tree – if he lived that long. The kid had no idea how he would stop his best friend, but he wasn’t about to let him throw his life away, even for Chris Larabee. After all, Chris was already dead.

JD sighed and called out to the lanky man, "Hey, Buck! Let’s stop for awhile."

The kid felt heartened when Ezra chimed in, "I agree, Buck. It is rather . . . unsafe for us to proceed at this altitude in the fading light of day."

Buck turned his mare around and headed back to the two stragglers. "We got a good hour of light left. We’ll keep moving."

"We’re tired, Buck. And the horses are tired. You can’t keep pushing us all like this. Another hour ain’t gonna make a difference anyway."

Buck glanced at Ezra before returning his gaze to JD. "An hour just might make all the difference, JD. If Vin had gone to Chris’ cabin an hour earlier, he might not be dead. If Nathan had been back in the clinic an hour earlier, Vin might not be gone. Now I already got too many regrets in this life, I don’t want to add another. Don’t want to be sayin’ ‘If only I’d gotten to Denver an hour earlier . . .’ You see what I mean, Kid? I got the feelin’ we need to be there as quick as we can, and I aim to do just that. You and Ezra can stay behind if you want to."

With that, he rode off. JD looked at Ezra, who only shrugged, and followed. In fact, Ezra himself had the feeling that time may indeed be a determining factor in their collective fates. He hadn’t spoken of his true thoughts to either of the men. Hadn’t mentioned that, not only did he believe that Larabee had been set up by Hopewell, but also that he wasn’t entirely sure the man was dead. He had no evidence to suggest otherwise, only the lingering doubt that stemmed from Vin’s fervent belief. Buck struggled enough with the situation; he didn’t want to add to his frustration. He’d keep his feelings to himself. But he wondered what lay ahead for them in Denver. He wondered if one hour would make all the difference - and for whom.

++++++++++

Josiah trotted quietly through the pines, the wind at his back and the rain running in rivulets off the brim of his hat. He had had no trouble picking up the trail on the eastern edge of town, just as Vin had said. Wherever these men were going, they apparently didn’t care who followed. Their tracks remained marked clearly in the muddy ground, in spite of the heavy rain. In fact, the older man had the distinct impression that a trail had been left purposely, only written directions missing from the carefully laid path. A trap, more than likely. Well, good then – he was tired of guessing. Tired of trying to figure out what he knew, from what he only thought he knew. He was ready to fight.

Chris was alive. If only he’d believed Vin in the beginning. He could have been a support for him, instead of forcing him to go off on his own. Josiah sighed. Life was full of ifs, and he was wise enough not to torture himself with that game. He couldn’t change what had happened, but he could damn well change things now. He could bring Chris back.

Dusk settled in as the rain finally let up. He feared he may have to stop for the night, but then he saw the clearing and the broken-down shack. Several horses roamed about in a shabby corral, shaking off the effects of the recent shower. Josiah hesitated, he wasn’t really sure who or what he expected to find. He didn’t want to go in with guns blazing, only to discover he was wrong – that Chris wasn’t inside. He climbed down from his mount and moved to a protected position several yards from the structure. Just then, a large, burly man stepped out the door. Although he carried a rifle, he appeared unconcerned about any possible intruders.

It was almost too easy. The big man itched for a fight after the long weeks of worry. He itched even more to get inside and find Chris. He believed – Lord, he believed. But like Thomas, the disciple who needed to touch his risen Lord to believe, he surely did want to see his friend in the flesh.

He made his way around the back of the cabin, noting there were no windows except for two small open spaces, hardly more than cracks really, in the front. He’d have to go in to know if Chris was inside, no way around it. Fortunately, the armed man cooperated nicely by deciding to check on the horses. Rounding the corner stealthily, Josiah inched his way around to the front, straining to hear any indication of how many men may be inside. He could hear only one voice – a man droning on about nothing it seemed, and he knew if Chris were there, he’d be going nuts by now.

The man in the corral turned right then and spotted the large preacher. It wasn’t the tracker fellow they’d been expecting, but he didn’t figure it mattered. He took aim and Josiah felt the bullet whiz past him before he returned fire, dropping the assailant where he stood. So much for the element of surprise.

Chris Larabee’s heart leapt at the sound of gunshots. It had to be Vin - had to be. He struggled again against his bonds. His wrists, raw and bloody from the constant twisting motion, ached with a vengeance, almost as much as his pounding head. As he felt the rope begin to loosen, he had only one thought – to get to Vin.

Randall Gill blanched when he heard the shots outside. Even though he’d been waiting for this, even though this was the plan – to take out both Larabee and his friend once and for all – he was filled with apprehension. The sharpshooter had proven his reputation, and Gill knew he was no match for the man. It might be a good idea to keep the prisoner squarely in front of him. He didn’t get the chance, however, because the man in black broke free and, with a feral grin, lunged at his tormentor.

Gill managed to get off a shot that skimmed across Larabee’s shoulder, before the gunman knocked the gun to the ground and turned his attack on the bald man. Chris was almost disappointed, though not surprised, when the man went down in two punches. He deserved so much more, and the gunman may well have continued the assault had Josiah not kicked open the door.

Chris, breathing hard from exertion and the adrenaline coursing through his body, turned to greet his rescuer, gasping in surprise.

"Josiah?" He felt totally stunned, and more than a little confused. How did Josiah get here? And where was Vin?

Even though Josiah knew, even though he believed, the sight of Chris Larabee standing before him took his breath away. Chris reached out to shake the preacher’s hand, a bewildered smile gracing his otherwise serious features. But the big man, overcome with emotion, locked the slender blond in a fierce bear hug, startling the reserved gunman.

Josiah pulled away but kept both hands firmly gripped on Larabee’s forearms, drinking in the sight of his long lost friend.

"Damn, its good to see you, Chris!"

"You, too, Josiah. Are the others with you?"

"Just Nathan."

He had about a dozen questions for Sanchez, but one first and foremost on his mind. "Have you seen Vin?" he asked anxiously.

"Yeah, he’s with Nathan."

Noting the hesitation in his friend’s voice, Chris clearly heard what hadn’t been said. All right then, Vin was alive – but injured. "How bad is he hurt?"

"Not real sure. He was mostly just worryin’ about you. I promised him I’d bring you back, and I intend to do that, so we’d better get going. We can fill each other in on the way." Josiah noted the blood beginning to saturate the gunman’s shirt. "We need to take care of that first."

"It’s just a scratch. It can wait," Larabee replied shortly.

Josiah knew better than to argue at this moment. He nodded to the man lying on the floor, who had yet to stir. "What about him?"

Chris wanted to finish it. Wanted to put a bullet in Gill’s sorry hide. Hell, he’d be doing the world a favor just by stopping that incessant mouth of his. But that wouldn’t be a whole lot different than shooting a man in the back.

"We’ll tie him up and leave him here. Hopefully be a while before anyone finds him."

By the time they’d accomplished that, darkness had fallen. As they rode away from the area, Josiah could see that his friend was weakening. He knew Larabee was hurting and more than likely, hadn’t eaten all day.

"Chris, we’re gonna have to find a spot to stop for the night."

"I’m fine. We’ll keep moving."

Stubborn. Larabee and Tanner were very different men, but they surely shared this same trait. And a good thing, too, most of the time.

Josiah shook his head. "Don’t know these mountains. We get all twisted up around here tonight, and I’ll never find the cave where Nathan and Vin are waiting. We’ve got to be sensible here, Chris."

Sensible? Why start now? But he reluctantly agreed. At least he knew where Vin was and that he was being taken care of. At least they had Josiah and Nathan by their sides. Four still didn’t equal seven, but it was a damn site closer, and they would manage to end this yet.

++++++++++

Nathan paced the narrow confines of the dreary cave in frustration. He’d ventured out when the rain stopped in an attempt to find firewood but had been largely unsuccessful. The temperature began dropping with nightfall, and the chill that had been mildly uncomfortable became downright miserable.

Vin’s condition had steadily worsened, and the compassionate healer despaired at his inability to help his friend. He had tried to remove the large splinter from the young man’s side a few hours earlier. With limited supplies and light, he knew it was risky, but Vin had pleaded with him, promising to hold still if only the ex-slave would help him. Nathan thought about how huge a small splinter could feel in your hand, and empathized with the Texan. But when Vin arched his back in agony at Nathan’s fist gentle prodding with the knife, he knew he’d have to stop, lest he slice Vin from back to front with an unintentional slip.

Now Vin moved about restlessly, unable to find comfort in any position. Nathan had brought a small amount of laudanum with him, pretty much a staple, considering the men he traveled with. He’d given Tanner just enough to take the edge off the pain, knowing he’d need more as time went on and worrying he wouldn’t have enough of the precious liquid. No telling what shape Chris could be in either, and he almost smiled at that thought. Hell, he’d take Larabee in any shape - any condition with any injury, as long as he was breathing.

Jackson stopped his pacing long enough to steal a glance at his injured friend and listen to his labored breathing. The cough that had plagued Vin for weeks stole the air from his lungs and wreaked havoc on his battered rib cage. As if Nathan didn’t have enough to worry about, the very real possibility that whatever festered in Vin’s lungs would progress to pneumonia had leapt to the top of the list.

Nathan moved to the tracker’s side and knelt down to secure the blankets around his injured friend. Vin shivered and moaned, pulling open weary eyes that immediately took in the worry written all over his friend’s face. Nathan tried to give him a reassuring smile but failed miserably.

"Quit yer worryin’." Vin admonished weakly.

This time Jackson’s smile was genuine. "Its what I’m best at, according to Josiah."

"He back? Chris?" The young man asked hopefully.

"He’ll be here soon. You know Josiah won’t let you down. Won’t let Chris down neither. But its night now, and I don’t figure to be seein’ them till mornin’ at best. So you just go ahead and rest."

Rest. Like that was possible. Even his toenails hurt, and he wouldn’t feel better until he saw the whites of Larabee’s eyes. He couldn’t lose him again – couldn’t go through that again.

"If they’re not back by mornin’ . . . you gotta go after ‘em."

Nathan shook his head. "Not leavin’ you, Vin, and I ain’t even gonna talk about it."

Vin tried to take a deep breath and prepare his argument, but it hurt too much. And judging by the set of Nathan’s jaw, it wouldn’t do him any good anyway. Well, Nathan could think whatever he liked, but come morning, he was pulling this log out of his side and he was going after Chris. Come morning . . .

++++++++++

Morning came in radiant beauty. The autumn sun reflected off the lingering drops from the previous day’s rain in a stunning prism of color. But the brilliance of the dawn went unnoticed by seven men.

Buck, JD, and Ezra had slept fitfully under the stars. Their goal within reach, the draw to Denver tugged at them fiercely now. Each had a different agenda and different expectations, but the need to be there pulled equally strong in them all. JD was first up and ready, and even Ezra prepared to take off early with no complaint.

Josiah had managed to bandage Chris’s shoulder and sore wrists, ignoring the gunman’s protests. Normally, Sanchez respected a man’s right to make his own decisions, especially a man like Larabee, but he knew his friend was exhausted and no longer thinking clearly. Chris had then drifted off into an uneasy sleep, while Josiah kept watch. By first light, both men yearned to hit the trail and rejoin their partners.

Neither Nathan nor Vin had gotten much rest. Vin never could figure out how it was possible to be burning up one minute and freezing the next. He’d tried hard to keep still and quiet when he saw how used up Nathan was, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Every time Jackson’s eyes slid closed, his sick friend would whimper or groan or make some other distressing sound that reminded the healer how powerless he was. As morning’s light began to filter into the drab surroundings, Nathan tried to decide on his next course of action, while Vin tried to decide if it was worth the pain and effort to keep breathing.

++++++++++

Part 7: Snake in the Grass

The steady clip-clop of horse’s hooves broke the stillness of the early morning. Chris settled into the easy rhythm, even his heart seeming to beat in time. Anxious to get to Vin, stiff and sore and aching all over – yet so much better just riding beside the big preacher, knowing he would stand by him and finish this mess. And knowing Nathan waited for them, steadfast in his trust that the healer stood by Tanner just as firmly. Two strong, solid men supporting their backs when they needed it most, and not a moment too soon, either. Chris wondered idly how that had all worked out. How Josiah and Nathan had managed to find Vin the way they did. Just like he had wondered how Vin had found him. The tracker had muttered something about a bird and an angel, and the gunman had decided his friend was just too damn tired to make much sense. It didn’t matter anyhow. Be it luck, fate, or divine intervention – just so long as Hopewell got what he deserved and they all made it home.

Josiah spoke, breaking his reverie. "We’re almost there, Chris. You doin’ all right?"

"I’m fine, Josiah." He smiled at Sanchez. "Really."

"Good. Reckon Nathan’s got his hands full enough with Vin. He’ll be thrilled to see you in one piece. Thrilled to see you period." He looked at the blond meaningfully.

"I’m sorry about all that. You’ve got to know I had no idea what had happened. I never would have left if I’d known."

Josiah nodded. "It was hard on a lot of people. A man should feel real good knowin’ he means that much to so many. Says a lot about what kind of man he is."

Chris grinned. "Yeah – or maybe he’s got ‘em all fooled."

Sanchez pointed ahead at an opening into the mountain about fifty feet away. Relatively secluded, but not difficult to spot – if someone were to look, Chris noted. Peso and Nathan’s horse were tied just outside, and the two men dismounted, adding their horses to the pair. Larabee looked around uneasily. If they had to stay here any length of time, they’d need to find a place to hide their mounts.

They entered the dismal shelter, their eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light. Chris quickly made out the form of his best friend near the back wall. Jackson was nowhere to be found, however.

"I’ll find Nathan," Josiah offered. "You check on Vin."

Chris was already on his knees at the tracker’s side. He inhaled sharply as he took in the latest damage that had been done to his friend. New bruises and scrapes marred his fine features. He’d kicked off the blanket that had covered him, revealing bandages on his side and arm, along with dark bruising spreading across his lean chest. The familiar fear returned. Maybe this wouldn’t all work out. Maybe they wouldn’t all make it home.

Hot. It was so hot. Nathan had muttered and cursed all night and all morning about building a fire – and now it was just too damn hot. Vin struggled to open his heavy lids and tell the dark skinned man just what he thought about the whole fire idea. But instead of seeing two worried brown eyes, he saw a pair of equally worried green ones staring down at him. Chris? Chris!

"Whoa! Stay down, Vin. It’s all right. I’m here." He took hold of the injured man’s flailing arms and repeated, "I’m here."

The sharpshooter lowered his head back to the makeshift pillow and attempted to steady his breathing. But his body refused to cooperate as the urge to cough overcame all else. The strain on his cracked ribs was excruciating, bringing tears to his eyes. He tried to sit up and wrap his arms around his chest, only to further aggravate both his wounded side and arm. Just when he thought he might as well give in and die and get it over with, he felt the arms of his best friend envelop him, one supporting his aching chest while the other rubbed his tired back. Vin leaned into the embrace, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder. Josiah found Chris. Thank God.

As Chris held his weary friend against him, he again thought in wonder how much his life had changed since the day he had looked this man in the eye. He didn’t understand that either, how it happened or why it happened. He only knew he had to have Vin in his life, had to protect him at all costs. Without thinking, he lowered his cheek to rest on the damp curls of his brother’s head, forcing himself to remain calm in spite of the heat he felt radiating from the young man’s body.

When Nathan and Josiah returned, successful at last in the search for dry wood, they stopped short at the sight before them. Chris cradled Vin in his arms, talking in soothing tones as Vin tried to regain control of his emotions and his breathing. Josiah questioned how he could ever have doubted the connection between the two men, and he began to back away to give them some privacy.

But Nathan, elated at seeing Larabee again, promptly dropped his load of branches, startling the men on the ground. Chris carefully lowered Vin back down to rest, but not before acknowledging the gratitude in his friend’s eyes with a slight nod.

Chris had no sooner gotten to his feet when he was almost knocked off of them by the excited healer. Nathan nearly crushed the gunman as he threw his arms around the man in a rare display of affection. Chris wondered if everyone would react this way. Maybe he should get used to this. Could he really mean this much to his men? As much as, he had recently come to accept, they meant to him?

Nathan stood grinning widely. "Sure is good to see you, Chris Larabee! Surely is good. Yer hurt, though. I can see that, and don’t tell me yer not."

Chris smiled, but shook his head. "I’ll be all right, Nathan. I’m a little worried about Vin, though." Serious now, he glanced down at the injured man, before once again meeting Nathan’s eyes, seeking reassurance.

Jackson looked away from the intense gaze of the gunman and said, "We got some work to do. I’ve been needing yer help – both of you. But first we need to get this fire goin’."

"Aw hell, Nathan." Vin surprised them all by speaking out. "It’s hot enough already . . . talk some sense into ‘im , Chris . . . damn fire’s all he’s been talkin’ ‘bout."

"I’ll take care of it, Vin." Chris offered gently. "Nathan?"

Nathan motioned the other two men outside. "Vin’s got a nasty piece of wood stuck up into his side. I need hot water for my things. He don’t need more infection settin’ in – got enough problems already. I’m gonna have to use my knife to get to it before I can pull it on out, I’m afraid. Gonna need you both to hold ‘im down. It’s been givin’ ‘im fits. He begged me to get it out last night, but I couldn’t get ahold of it . . . and I couldn’t take the chance of cuttin’ ‘im . . . and I know its hurtin’ . . ."

Josiah stopped his friend with a hand to his shoulder. "We know you did all you could, Nathan. Stop beating yourself up."

Sanchez finally got a fire going to Nathan’s satisfaction, and after some discussion, they decided to move Vin nearer to the entrance where the bright light of day now shone more clearly. Chris positioned himself at the lean man’s head, promising to hold his upper body still while being mindful of his other injuries. Vin’s eyes expressed doubt at that, but he’d endure just about anything to get the dagger out of his body.

As Josiah grabbed hold of Tanner’s legs, Nathan turned him gently to his side and went to work. He had just began to open the wound, when he noted the injured man already breathing rapidly as sweat dripped from his face. Vin’s hands were balled tightly into fists, and for a moment, Nathan was distracted. The wounds on the sharpshooter’s hands had certainly healed much, but they were still reddened and undoubtedly sore. He hadn’t even thought to check those hands last night – being too worried about the new injuries, and rightfully so. But now, all clenched tight like they were – he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off them. Strong, sure hands that had saved his own life. Steady, nimble hands now scarred and stiff from trying to save Chris’s life. And how many lives had those hands saved yesterday up on that mountain?

Nathan looked down at his own hands, shocked to see them trembling. This was no different than the other times he’d worked on one of his friends, he reminded himself. In fact, removing a slice of wood should be easier than removing a bullet. But the compassionate man knew one of these times he wouldn’t be successful. One of these times, he’d lose a man. And he couldn’t bear the thought of it after just getting Vin and Chris back.

"Nathan?" Chris questioned. What was he waiting for?

Jackson closed his eyes for a moment and prayed for a clear head. Taking a deep breath, he continued to open up the reddened area around the offending object until he had a clear view of it. A mixture of pus and blood oozed from the wound, making the splinter slippery and difficult to get a hold of. Nathan used the extractor to grab the tip and pulled, praying it wouldn’t break off mid-way. All three men winced in sympathy as the sprig, several inches in length, was pulled swiftly from deep within their teammate’s side. Vin cried out only once, in a feeble, small voice.

He poured carbolic, another precious liquid in short supply, on the new wound as well as the previous one, bandaged the areas, and sat back on his heels. Josiah and Chris shifted the softly moaning tracker into a more comfortable position, before looking to Nathan for further direction.

Jackson ran a hand through his coarse, dark hair. "I’m gonna need some supplies. And he needs to be off this cold, hard ground," he motioned at Vin.

Chris looked at both men. "How were things in town when you left?"

"Chaotic," Josiah answered.

Vin groaned, and the blond instinctively reached down to softly stroke his friend’s hair, cringing at the movement of his wounded shoulder. He’d forgotten about that.

But Nathan hadn’t. "Chris, let me take care of you. Then Josiah and I can ride into town, get the things I need, and see what’s goin’ on."

They could see by their leader’s expression that he didn’t like it. In truth, none of them wanted to be separated again so soon after being reunited. But it was too dangerous for Chris or Vin to go into town. No telling what Hopewell had told the authorities or what he had planned next.

"It’s a good idea, Chris. No one there knows Nathan or I. We can move about freely and get the lay of things."

"Hopewell knows you," Chris interjected as he rose to his feet.

"He’s not gonna try anything with all those people around."

Chris scoffed. "I wouldn’t put anything past him, Josiah. He’s a snake in the grass."

"That he is. But a snake ain’t half as dangerous when you know where he’s hiding. We’ll be careful. We’ll watch our backs."

"We ain’t got a choice, Chris," Nathan added as he gently but firmly guided the gunslinger to sit back on the ground. He continued on as he began to remove the soiled dressing from Larabee’s shoulder. "Vin can’t go on the run right now. And he can’t stay here much longer, either." Nathan liberally doused the wound with carbolic and noted, "Yer shoulder’s not too bad."

Chris bit back a groan as he replied, "I told you that."

"Well, it can git bad real quick if we don’t take care of it."

Properly chastised, Chris grew quiet, his thoughts turning to Tanner. Josiah followed his gaze. "I’m more worried about leaving you and Vin here. You’re the ones Hopewell is likely to come after."

"Maybe he left town by now," Jackson added hopefully.

Maybe. But the gunman doubted that. He had the feeling Hopewell burned to finish this as much as he did. He wouldn’t rest until the Governor was dead or behind bars. He owed it to his friends who had painfully mourned his death, he owed it to Daniel Martin, and he owed it to Vin.

++++++++++

Clayton Hopewell had indeed left town. With his few men either dead or missing, he had decided he would have to take matters into his own hands. In the past, he’d been very careful not to dirty those hands, but this time, he had little choice. The man Gill had shot had stubbornly and inconveniently refused to die and was beginning to talk. The governor had found out that Martin was well respected in Denver, and his word, combined with Larabee’s, could be enough to cause him trouble.

He had headed up to the designated meeting area, hoping to find that both Larabee and his tracker friend had been taken care of. It hadn’t taken much to figure out that Tanner was behind the shooting up on the mountain, that he had almost single- handedly foiled his plans. He’d had Larabee taken in an effort to draw out the sharpshooter – the aim being to kill two birds with one stone. He wondered idly if the two men realized how apparent their weakness for each other was. How easy it was to get to one by simply using the other.

He had been shocked to find that not only was Larabee gone, but two of his men were dead. He found one shot dead in the corral and Gill dead inside. That puzzled him. Gill didn’t have a mark on him, save for a bruised jaw, and he was tied, too. Why tie up a dead man? Unless he wasn’t dead when Larabee had gotten away. The man had probably talked himself to death. Not that it mattered. The whole point was that as long as Larabee and Tanner were out there, they posed a threat to him. A threat he would now have to take care of himself.

Hopewell had grown up in the west. He supposed that most folks would be surprised that he could read sign. He supposed that folks would be surprised at a lot of the things he could do. He supposed the pair he was after would be real surprised when he came up on them. He smiled to himself as he followed the faint trail into the gently sloping mountain range.

++++++++++

Chris rinsed the soft cloth in the clear, cool water and once again ran it gently over his sick friend’s face, arms, and chest. He’d tried to get water down him, like Nathan had ordered, but Vin kept choking on it. And every time he coughed, he whimpered in pain, the sound just about unbearable to the blond.

He moved the cloth down to the concave curve of Vin’s stomach. When was the last time he’d eaten? The last time either of them had eaten? It was no wonder he had no energy, no strength, no desire to do anything other than lie down next to Vin and sleep for a week. But he would not give in to the despair that threatened him. With any luck, Josiah and Nathan would be back by nightfall with good news. He couldn’t imagine what that good news could be, but he’d hope for it anyway.

Chris wearily rested his head in his hands, wincing when he made contact with the spot where he’d been hit yesterday. He’d forgotten about that, too.

"You okay, Cowboy?" a hushed voice asked him.

Chris cocked his head and gave Vin a slight smile. "Look who’s asking."

"Answer the question, Chris." The tracker wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. Something was seriously worrying his friend, and he wouldn’t rest until he knew what it was.

"I’ll be all right, as long as you are, Vin," Larabee answered softly.

Oh. It hadn’t occurred to the younger man that he could be the cause of his friend’s despondency. Of course he knew the gunman cared about him, that he might even give up his life for him. And it went both ways. But he wasn’t planning on dying, even if it would be a hell of a lot easier. They’d come too far and still had a few things to finish before they could call an end to this. He wasn’t going anywhere.

"I’ll be fine." Seeing the apprehension in the gunman’s eyes, he added, "Promise." He really did feel bad, god-awful in fact, but he intended to work harder at keeping that from his friend.

Chris couldn’t help the smirk that graced his lips. Damned Texan thought he was invincible. How many times had he seen him leap buildings and boulders without a thought to his own safety? But at least the man was awake and lucid – and determined.

"Don’t know how this is all gonna play out. Reckon you should get some rest while you can," Chris advised.

"Reckon you . . . should, too." Vin struggled to stay aware for a few more minutes. "We got a plan?"

"Stay alive. Get Hopewell."

"Good enough . . . for me." With that, Vin gave into the darkness once more.

Chris leaned his head back against the stone wall. He was so tired. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a minute.

But that minute turned into hours as days of little sleep and food, along with blood loss, finally took their toll on the tough gunslinger. And so when Clayton Hopewell found their hiding spot, entering the cave with gun drawn, it was almost anticlimactic for him. Too easy to just shoot them both as they slept.

++++++++++

Josiah and Nathan entered town, just as Hopewell left. They started with the local physician, figuring he would have the supplies they needed. They had also promised Chris they would check on the status of the young man who had been shot by Gill.

As they entered the clinic, Nathan marveled at the various modern instruments and supplies neatly stored in shiny cabinets. What he could do with tools like these. Just then, a graying man with a generous smile entered from a back room, wiping his hands on a white towel.

"Hello, Gentlemen. I’m Dr. Johnson. Can I help you?"

Josiah could see that his partner was speechless, staring like a kid in a candy store at items he could only dream of. He cleared his throat and stated, "Dr. Johnson, my name is Josiah Sanchez, and this is Nathan Jackson. We’ve come to check on an acquaintance of ours, Daniel Martin?"

The friendly smile vanished as the doctor looked at the men suspiciously. "How do you know him?" he asked.

"Actually, we don’t. A friend of ours does, and he asked us to check on him." May as well jump on in head first, thought Josiah. "His name is Chris Larabee."

Both men waited anxiously for the doctor’s reaction and were surprised to see relief in his eyes.

"Daniel’s been asking about him. Is he all right?"

"For now, but another friend of ours is hurt, and we were hoping we could get some supplies."

The kind physician nodded. "Of course. Daniel trusts your friend and I trust Daniel. He’s been telling quite a story about one of the territorial governors and, quite frankly, I’m worried for his safety. He should be dead from that gunshot wound, you know. Guess he’s just too damn stubborn to die."

Josiah smiled. "We know a few men like that. Anyone looking into his story?"

"The sheriff, I guess. But I wouldn’t hold out much hope that anything will come of it. Of course, the fellow that shot Daniel tried to blame the whole thing on your friend Larabee."

"You think anything will come of that?" asked Josiah.

"No one from town was hurt. No one has proof of anything. But to be safe, you and your friends might want to head home."

Now Nathan spoke up. "Can’t. We got an injured man. He’s fightin’ congestion in his lungs and infection in a couple of wounds."

The doctor looked at the men thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure why he was going out on a limb for them. He really knew nothing about any of them, after all. Then again, he had never been one to take the conventional route. "Bring him here tonight, after dark. I have a couple of rooms where he and Larabee can both stay until things calm down."

This was substantially more than either man had hoped for. Perhaps they were foolish to trust the man, but with limited options, it seemed to be their best bet.

"Thank you, Doctor. You won’t regret helping our friends. They’re good men."

"So I’ve heard. And speaking of good men, please come and say hello to Daniel and tell him of Mr. Larabee. He is sorely needing some good news."

Josiah felt a tad guilty. He really didn’t want to take the time, as he was itching to get back to Chris and Vin. But they certainly did owe the young man, and he knew Chris would want them to talk with him.

In the end, it was a short visit. The young man lay pale and breathless in another back room of the clinic. But his clear blue eyes spoke of honesty and integrity, and Josiah realized immediately what had drawn Chris to him. Dr. Johnson hovered protectively close by, and the preacher felt strangely glad of that. Daniel thanked them for coming, for bringing him news, before succumbing once again to sleep.

The men left the clinic with plans to meet that night. Before leaving town, however, they stopped by the sheriff’s office. They had yet to see any sign of Hopewell, and Josiah felt the need to know just where the snake had slithered off to. Unfortunately, the sheriff was close mouthed about the whole affair. It wasn’t until a few hours later that the pair tracked down a witness who had last seen the governor. He’d headed east of town on a horse, they’d been told.

A sick feeling settled in the pit of Josiah’s stomach. By now, Hopewell would know Chris was gone. And he’d be going after him. They shouldn’t have left the two injured men alone. He looked over at Jackson and knew he had the same thoughts, as they galloped back to where their friends hid.

++++++++++

Part 8: Reunions

The soft click of a cocking gun startled Chris from his stupor. Hopewell. The gunman felt no surprise and certainly no fear at the man before him. He felt only anger at himself. How could he drift off, knowing Vin counted on him to watch his back? He wanted to check if the tracker was awake, let him know he was sorry. But it seemed to be more prudent for him to keep his eyes trained on the armed politician. He could see his own weapon from the corner of his eye, just out of reach. What the hell had he been thinking?

Hopewell’s lips turned up ever so slightly. Finally, at last, he had the gunslinger. One pull of the trigger and it would be over. Obviously his friend posed no threat and the rest of his gang were nowhere in sight. Killing the duo still wouldn’t make up for the ruination of his plans, but it would go a long way towards appeasing his anger. Still, he hated ending it so quickly and easily for Larabee.

"Well, what are you waiting for? I’m surprised you didn’t finish it while we slept, since you seem to enjoy killing innocent people in cold blood. " Chris stated with a sneer. Maybe conversation would buy them some time. Maybe Josiah and Nathan would pull off another miracle and show up about now.

The governor grinned, knowing he was being baited, and rather enjoying the challenge. "I’m thinking this is just too easy. Rather boring end to the long game we’ve played, don’t you agree?"

"I don’t know. Just your style, if you ask me. Of course, you generally let others do the dirty work for you. What happened? You run out of men to buy?" Chris held the other man’s steady gaze, all the while trying to gage just how many feet he’d have to move and how quickly to get to his sidearm.

"Every man has his price," the suave man nearly whispered in a silky smooth voice. "Even you, Larabee."

"What are you trying to say, Hopewell?" Chris bit back a sharp retort. It wouldn’t do to lose his head now.

Hopewell flicked his gaze to the wounded tracker before turning back to the blond. "Your friend isn’t looking too good. Maybe he should be the first to go – put him out of his misery." A lethal grin lit the governor’s face, as he saw Larabee’s blood run cold. Yes, the gunman had made a huge mistake in exposing his greatest weakness – his feelings for Tanner.

Vin had awakened just after the conversation began. Chris sat with his back to him, having turned towards their enemy when he’d entered the cave. He attempted to lift his hand just enough to touch his best friend; to let him know that he was aware and willing to do whatever he needed to do. To let him know, somehow, that no matter how it went down, it wasn’t the gunman’s fault. He reached up and softly brushed against Larabee’s back.

Chris felt the feather-light touch and thought his heart would break. He didn’t need to see Vin’s face to understand what that touch conveyed, the connection between them stronger than ever. And Hopewell would kill Vin for no other reason than that he meant so much to him.

Clayton Hopewell decided at that moment that the very best revenge he could exact on Chris Larabee would indeed be to kill his friend in front of him. He intended to do it anyhow, and he needed to be on his way. He gave the gunslinger another quick grin while adjusting his aim towards the injured man lying on the ground.

There was no way Chris could reach his weapon in time and, even if he could, he’d never get the shot off before Hopewell. Vin would be dead. He couldn’t let that happen. Springing to his feet, he lunged at their attacker. Hopewell reacted in surprise and fired, his aim off the mark just enough to miss the tracker entirely – but not the man in black.

Chris felt his head blow apart, a horrendous mixture of sound and color and pain sending him sprawling to the ground. He lay motionless then and knew nothing.

But Vin knew. He saw the blood spurt from the side of his friend’s head; saw him fall to the ground. He tried to get to his feet but couldn’t even begin to find his legs. He turned onto his stomach, struggling to get up on hands and knees, as he inched his way over to the body of his best friend. His anguished sobs, "Oh God, oh God," echoed throughout the stone cavern.

"What the hell?" Hopewell asked aloud, to no one in particular. He just couldn’t believe Larabee had sacrificed himself for the dirty, dying tracker. He really was intrigued by the whole situation, but at the sound of approaching horses, he decided he’d think on it all later. He prepared to take out Tanner, but was suddenly struck with a new idea. Pulling the tracker up in front of him, a considerable effort since the man could hardly stand, he headed out of the shelter towards the stand of trees where he’d tied his horse.

Josiah and Nathan drove their steeds with renewed urgency after hearing the lone gunshot. Coming upon the area just as Hopewell and Vin excited the cave, both men dismounted in quick, fluid motions with weapons primed and ready.

"Let him go," Josiah ordered in a deep, calm voice that belied his emotions. He could see Vin gasping and tears rolling down his cheeks. What had happened in that cave and where was Chris?

Hopewell shook his head with a small laugh. "Not a chance. He’ll be right in front of me until I’m well on my way."

Stumbling, staggering, and swaying on his feet, Vin was determined to get back to Chris, in spite of the gun pressed tightly against his temple. But Hopewell gripped him firmly around his bare waist and hoisted him up onto his mount, Vin’s pained cries and anguished protests unheard or unheeded.

Josiah endeavored to get off a shot, anything to stop the evil man from stealing away his friend. Enough – they’d all had enough. He would not separate them again. But with Vin in harm’s way, he could do little more than fire off a warning shot. Hopewell responded in kind, before taking off through the trees, with Josiah close behind.

Nathan hurried to the cave and caught his breath at the sight that before him. Chris lay unmoving on the hard packed earth, blood pooling in a gruesome pattern in the dirt beneath him. Head wounds always bleed a lot, Nathan reminded himself as he laid two shaky fingers on the side of the gunman’s neck. Thank God. A slow, steady pulse beat in contrast to the racing of the healer’s own heart. He gently began to wipe away the blood and examine the wound on the left side of Larabee’s temple. A graze. A nasty one, but a graze none the less, and the gunman would live provided he didn’t do anything stupid, like go galloping after Vin when he woke up.

Of course, that’s exactly what he intended to do. The head wound should have rendered the man unconscious for hours, but awareness of danger pulled him to the surface after only moments. He groaned and raised his hands to his splitting head, only to have them battered away by Jackson.

"Easy now, Chris. You got a bad head wound here and I need to get it wrapped up good."

Chris gasped as he lifted his upper body off the ground. In a weak voice, he asked, "Vin?"

Nathan continued to bandage the gunslinger’s head, ignoring the question. Chris grabbed his hands and forced the healer to look at him. "Where . . . is . . . Vin?" he repeated slowly and insistently.

Nathan sighed. "Hopewell’s got ‘im." He latched onto Chris’s arm as he attempted to stand. "Now hold on. Josiah’s gone after ‘em. Yer in no condition to ride and you know it."

"And you know I’m goin’ anyway. You can come along and help me – or not." Dizziness and nausea washed over him as he strained to stand and make his way outside with faltering steps.

++++++++++

Josiah rode hard through the thick pines, his senses keenly aware of every sight and sound in a way in he’d never experienced before. He knew instinctively that his enemy headed towards the river. If Hopewell crossed the gorge before Sanchez could get to him, he’d never find the slimy politician in the rocky crevices and canyons that lay on the other side. He’d never find Vin, either – not alive. He heard the roaring of a nearby waterfall and knew they were close. Hopewell was within firing range, Josiah could glimpse him and his black steed as they sped closer to the water and, for a moment, he considered firing. But he wasn’t the sharpshooter that Vin was, or Buck for that matter, and he feared he’d hurt Tanner. The moment of hesitation was enough for Hopewell to make his decision.

Clayton Hopewell had come up on the river and was shocked at the whitewater rapids that greeted him. The previous rains had raised the water level considerably and he realized he’d need to cross farther down stream or risk being whisked away by the swift currents. He glanced behind him. The preacher was hot on his tail and would undoubtedly remain that way as he headed for a safer crossing - unless he got off a lucky shot first.

There really was no choice. He’d have to cross here and now. Better to drown than die by the hand of one of Larabee’s men. Leading the skittish black into the churning, icy water, Hopewell kept a firm grip on the injured man in front of him. They’d never shoot him as long as he held some control over the fate of the tracker. Were he to let go, the injured man could never swim to safety. As it was, Tanner lay half- slumped over the neck of the horse, his short, pained gasps coming in irregular intervals. Once he made it to the other side, it would be time to get rid of the extra baggage - if he made it to the other side.

Josiah watched the other man enter the rapids, holding his breath as he wrestled with indecision. He heard horses approaching and turned in time to see Nathan and Chris close behind. Larabee looked like hell, with blood seeping through the crude bandage that Nathan had apparently hastily wrapped around his head. He couldn’t believe they’d managed to catch up to him with Chris in that state, but then again, the gunman could be one stubborn cuss when he wanted to be. And there was no doubt what fueled him now.

All three men rode as close to the banks as they dared, staring in disbelief as Hopewell’s horse struggled fiercely in the quick-moving waters. The rocky bottom made it nearly impossible for the animal to gain a foothold, but it continued to persevere valiantly.

The men watched from the shore with baited breath. After a few minutes, Josiah turned to Nathan, his intentions clear, and he headed downstream to search for a safer place to cross. Chris began to lead in to the river’s edge, but was held back as Jackson grabbed ahold of the reins. He looked up at the dark-skinned man, anger flashing, but he knew with the dizziness and blurred vision he’d been experiencing, he’d never make it across. And with heartsick certainty, he knew that once Hopewell made it across, he’d be through with Vin. He could barely breathe, the air choked in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He had to go - he had to go. Nathan gripped the reins more tightly, and Chris looked at him in desperation. He would shoot him if he had to, didn’t he see that? But Nathan never even glanced at the gunman; his entire attention focused on the scene playing out before him.

The black floundered as the frigid water hit the underside of its belly with full force, upsetting the panicked mount and the men it held in one swift motion.

"No! No!" Chris cried out. And then he was moving again. His head pounding as he galloped along the edge of the torrent, eyes riveted to the swirling waters for any sign of his friend.

++++++++++

The frigid water revived Vin from the dark depths he had gradually slipped into. He lifted his head as the swirling waters lapped up against his bare chest and stomach. Breathing had been his primary concern, but getting out of the rapids and onto dry land quickly took precedence. As the steed lost its footing and the swell overcame them, he reached out blindly for a branch, a rock, anything to latch onto. He found nothing. The force of the water spun him head over heels, the current pulling him up and under, again and again, until he no longer knew if he faced up or down, if he breathed air or water. The coldness numbed his aching limbs and torso, and he never felt the battering rocks as he tumbled over them.

It didn’t matter anyhow. Chris was well and truly dead, releasing him from the promise he’d made to the gunman. "I’ll be fine," he’d said. And he would be – in another time and another place. Even hell would be all right, if Chris were there to join him. He had nearly succumbed to the darkness once more, when a strong arm clutched him around his wounded side and pulled him up out of the water. A weak cry escaped him at the rough movement. As his eyes fluttered closed for what he knew would be the last time, he caught sight of his rescuer. Bucklin?

++++++++++

Buck had led JD and Ezra along the river’s edge, convinced he’d found a short cut to Denver. Although he’d never let on to his companions exactly why he knew this was the way to go. Some strange bird had been following them for days now, and so when it turned towards the river, Buck had a feeling they should follow it. JD and Ezra would think he’d lost his mind.

Ezra had argued with him, desiring to follow the trail into town like "every other sane individual." JD had apparently given up trying to reason with him. In fact, JD had almost given up talking altogether, which would have concerned Buck, had he not had so many other pressing matters on his mind. In fact, he caught a look of dogged determination in the kid’s eyes more than once, and he wondered what that was about.

It would be dusk soon, and Buck hoped to reach town by nightfall, but he allowed the men to stop by a particularly scenic spot to water their horses and catch a breath. The rapids had slowed at this point, although frothy ripples continued to slap against stone in the rhythmic sound of nature’s music.

JD leaned down to refill his canteen, when something caught his eye upstream. "What the hell is that?" he asked, wading in a few feet to get a better look.

"I believe it’s a horse," Ezra answered.

Sure enough, a black steed struggled to swim its way out of the rapids several yards from where the men stood. Quickly grabbing a rope, the men ran upstream. Buck was able to lasso the weakened animal, and with all three men pulling, assist it to the bank. The black stumbled on shaky legs, but otherwise appeared unharmed.

JD stroked the animal’s neck as he checked him over for further injury, while Ezra turned to Buck.

"An animal normally does not choose to take a swim by itself, especially with such an inordinate saddle. I believe it would behoove us to keep an eye out for its rider."

Buck nodded. "Let’s walk on upstream aways." An unnatural fluttering stirred deep in his heart as he found himself moving with unexpected urgency.

Ezra called out suddenly, "There! Do you see him, Buck?"

The half-clad form of a person lay wedged between two boulders, face down and unmoving. Buck quickly scampered over the rocky bed to reach the individual. Long, brown hair swirled in the clear water, and a sickening familiarity forced the air from the rogue’s chest. Grasping the man around the waist, he lifted him up out of the water and onto the nearest boulder, relieved to hear a small sound erupt from the wounded soul.

It couldn’t be – but even before he saw his face he knew it was – Vin! He clung to the limp tracker, turning back to Ezra and JD who stood several feet away on the shore. Both men saw the look of shock that graced Buck’s features, but neither had a clear view of the figure he’d pulled from the water.

"It’s Vin," he called, still not believing it himself.

JD’s eyes widened, and Ezra’s mouth opened, although not a sound came out. Within seconds, both men rushed out onto the rocks to help Buck carry their injured friend to shore.

"Is he breathing?" JD asked breathlessly.

"I don’t know, JD. Ain’t had a chance to check."

The men tenderly laid Vin on the grassy slope. Ezra crouched down to lend Buck a hand, but looked up sharply at the sound of an approaching rider. The unfolding events began to take on a dream-like quality, as he watched Josiah carefully cross the rapids to join them on the other side.

JD looked up from where he bent over Tanner and expressed the surprise and confusion they all felt. "Josiah? What the . . . ? How did you . . . ? Why are you here? Why is Vin here? What’s going on?"

Josiah leapt off his horse and made his way over to the fallen tracker. "Long story, Kid. But I sure am happy to see you, boys."

Buck had found a faint pulse under the icy cold skin of his friend’s neck, but Vin’s breathing was so shallow, he wasn’t sure if the tracker was taking in any air. He thought about pressing on the man’s lungs to see if he could bring up some water, but he couldn’t figure out where to put his hands. Vin’s chest was mottled in sickening shades of blue and black. Buck could see blood-tinged yellow drainage sluggishly making its way out of two holes in his side, as well, and he was afraid of touching him, for fear of causing further damage.

"How’s he doing, Buck?" Josiah asked softly.

Wilmington looked at the preacher uncertainly, but didn’t have a chance to answer before the sounds of more riders distracted him. Not surprisingly, Nathan led the way. But who rode behind him? Buck stood up suddenly. He looked like him, even sat his horse like him. He felt his heart race. Oh God.

++++++++++

As Chris sped along the banks, he had only one thought. Spare Vin. He had never been one to bargain with God, and he had long ago given up any hope of a relationship with Him, if He even existed. But he swore he would be part of Josiah’s audience every Sunday, if only the preacher had managed to snag his best friend out of the rushing waters.

When he and Nathan peered ahead at the commotion on the opposite shore, his heart seemed to explode in his chest. Dear God! There were his men, his friends, surrounding a still form on the ground, which could only be Vin. He didn’t know how the others had gotten here and frankly didn’t care. They would all be together, the seven reunited, and surely Vin could not die now. It would just be too ridiculously unfair. Surely some higher power had brought them all to this point, and it could not be to watch one of them die. He wouldn’t allow it.

Chris drove his black through the river bed, holding his breath while fighting to keep the persistent vertigo and nausea at bay. He had forgotten that three of those men still thought he was dead. Had forgotten that his very presence could shock his brothers to their bones. He’d forgotten all of that, worrying only if Vin still drew a breath, until he saw Buck’s face.

He pulled in the reins just behind Natha, and noted thankfully from the corner of his eye, that the healer had rushed over to Vin’s side. But Chris never took his eyes off of Buck. That is until he was forcefully hit head-on by the whirlwind that was JD.

JD couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew he should be more reserved, more grown-up, more composed, but he didn’t care. He threw himself at Chris Larabee, his arms wrapping around the lean man in an emotional embrace that surprised them both in its intensity. JD choked back tears when he felt the tough gunman return that embrace, felt him pat him on the back, as he asked, "You all right, JD?"

JD grinned from ear to ear, "Am now. We got you and Vin back. Can’t be nothin’ better than that!"

Chris gave him a slight smile as he caught a few of Nathan’s hushed words to Josiah, "Still alive, but barely . . .swallowed a lot of water . . . gotta get him some real help . . . and soon."

Ezra approached him next, extending both a hand and a smile, as his gold tooth glistened in the setting sun. "It is wonderful to see you again, Mr. Larabee. In fact, I am quite speechless."

Chris took the offered hand, then surprised himself by pulling the gambler into tender hug. Damn if he wasn’t getting to like this. Might be a good idea to let these men know how much they meant to him more often. "Good to see you, too, Ezra. Lookin’ forward to hearing how you all got here."

"Well, yes, I’d venture to say we all have some stories to share."

Chris nodded and quickly regretted the motion as his splitting head reminded him of its prior injury. Buck noted the wince and stated softly to his oldest friend, "Yer hurt."

"I’ll live."

"Guess so."

Buck was looking at him strangely, and Chris could see him warring with his emotions - disbelief, shock, and something else. Anger?

"I tried to let you know I was alive, Buck, but I guess you’d already left town."

"Guess so."

"Buck, you know I’d never do this to you. Never hurt you like this."

Of course not. He knew it deep down where it counted. Its just that he had a hundred questions and a thousand words, and every damn one of them stuck in his throat. Buck did manage to strangle out, "I’ve missed you, Chris," before he went to his friend.

As the two men embraced, Chris released the breath he’d been holding. Buck would be all right, Nathan would see to Vin, and the boys were here. His knees went weak with relief and gave out, followed by the rest of his body.

Buck caught the lean man as he passed out and sank to the ground. "Nathan!" he called out in a panic.

But Nathan had another crisis to deal with at that moment. The water Vin had swallowed or inhaled or both, made a sudden appearance. The tracker’s thin frame wracked with convulsions as the liquid poured from his mouth and nose. Jackson turned him on his side, and offered reassurance, although he suspected Vin was well past hearing him. He had not made a sound or even an attempt to open his eyes. When his body quieted, Nathan had to search carefully for his pulse and respiration, both nearly too shallow to feel or hear.

"Wrap him up good in two or three blankets, Josiah. I’m gonna have a look at Chris."

Josiah did as he was told, with help from Ezra, while Nathan examined their leader. The healer determined that Chris had finally given in to his various wounds, but with some decent rest, he should recover. The men knew he could not give them the same reassurance about Vin, however, and the irony was not lost on them. They’d gotten Chris back, but possibly at the cost of losing Vin – the one man who had tried to tell them from the beginning that nothing was at it seemed.

They made the ride into town by moonlight, taking turns carrying their wounded friends, with aching arms and confused hearts - elation at being together again, battling with fear that the reunion would be temporary.

++++++++++

Part 9: A Single Truth Revisited

Dr. Johnson had his hands full, as well as his beds. When he agreed to take in Larabee and his wounded friend, he hadn’t counted on seven men being part of the package. Yet he didn’t have the heart to turn a single one out. They had carried their injured friends in with such heavy hearts, but willing hands, and he figured he just might need every one of them before he was through.

Larabee had remained unconscious while the doctor stitched up his head, but he assured the others that the gunman would indeed recover, and he hoped he hadn’t lied. Head wounds were always tricky. Wilmington had insisted on staying at the blond’s side, throwing his bedroll on the floor next to the bed where Larabee slept. Dr. Johnson could see there was a strong bond there, and was grateful to have one less patient to keep an eye on for the next few hours.

He knew he would be busy with the tracker, Tanner. The man looked pitiful, with numerous bruises and abrasions covering his body. His lungs were full of congestion that he was too weak to cough up, and in spite of his current low body temperature – thanks to a swim in the rapids – he knew his wounds harbored infection.

Nathan Jackson had already proven himself to be a fine medic, in the good doctor’s estimation. By morning’s light, however, the dark-skinned man was clearly exhausted, so he sent him off to rest with his friends, overriding his strong objection. They had done as much as they could for his young friend, packing his wounds with a poultice and managing to force some herbal tea down his throat for the congestion. Both men understood the seriousness of the situation and both felt a familiar sense of helplessness. Losing a patient never got easier, and in this case, Dr. Johnson knew it would be devastating for Jackson.

The gray-haired man wearily rested his tired body in the chair next to Tanner’s bed. He wasn’t as young as he used to be. There was a time when he could stay up all night tending a sick patient, and work all through the next day, too. Not any more, though. Once Jackson had rested, he’d let him take over for awhile. The sun had started stealing its way into the small room through the lace curtains of the eastern window, throwing an exotic pattern of shadows across the wooden floor. Dr. Johnson removed his glasses to rub a hand against his tired eyes. He looked up when he heard the door open slowly, and saw a dark head peak inside timidly.

Surprised to see Wilmington, he asked, "Is Mr. Larabee all right?"

"Yeah, he’s still sleeping, I guess. I was just kinda wonderin’ if I could sit with Vin fer a spell?"

Dr. Johnson had dealt with people long enough to know when there were unresolved issues at play. He stood, deciding he needed to check on both Larabee and Daniel, and knowing the tall man before him would appreciate the privacy. "Of course, Mr. Wilmington. Just call me if anything changes."

"How is he, Doc?" Buck asked with trepidation.

"Not good," the physician answered honestly. He hadn’t known these men long, but he knew their kind. Smart, tough, and wanting to face the enemy head-on. They’d see right through any sugarcoating, and it wouldn’t be appreciated.

"What do you plan to do?" Buck demanded softly.

"I plan to do whatever I can to help your friend get better." The kind physician smiled sadly. "But in the end, it’s not my plan that counts."

Buck nodded as he went to take the empty chair by Vin’s side. He felt worthless again. Nathan could help Vin physically, and Josiah could offer up prayers, but he had nothing to give, no way to help the man before him. If only he’d believed from the beginning. He thought back on all that had happened, or at what they knew from Josiah’s standpoint, and realized that the only thing they had been right about was the man responsible, Hopewell. And they only knew that because of Ezra. If it had been up to him, he’d still be sitting back in Four Corners. It was small consolation to him that he’d been the one to pull Vin from the water, although the timing of all that astounded him. He remembered telling JD that an hour could make all the difference, and in this case, five minutes could have made the difference. But it wouldn’t matter at all if Vin died anyway.

He forced himself to look at his sick friend. The harsh wheezing sound of Vin’s breathing was almost painful to hear, knowing that every single inhalation was a battle for the man. God, he looked terrible. Buck so badly wanted to tell him how sorry he was for the whole mess, and he willed the young man to wake up with determined resolve.

Almost on cue, Vin began to stir. He’d felt himself being pulled to the surface, and he struggled to open his eyes. They felt like they had rusted shut, and he wondered disjointedly if that were possible. He had been in the water, hadn’t he? Gradually his vision returned, and he focused on the face peering intently into his. Buck. He couldn’t pull his feeble mind together enough to understand why that surprised him. For a brief moment, he wondered where Chris was, but then it all came back to him. Chris falling to the ground, blood everywhere. The bastard had blown his best friend’s head off. He groaned in anguish, "Chris . . ."

Buck misinterpreted the quiet plea. "He’s resting, Pard. He’ll be here soon."

"He’s dead . . . Buck."

Well, this was a turn of events. It would almost be funny, if it wasn’t so damn tragic. "No, Vin. He’s all right. He’s here."

"No . . . I saw . . ." Aw, hell. It was just too hard to talk, and even harder to breathe. How did Buck keep getting things so mixed up? He groaned again, or tried to, but he couldn’t seem to take in any air. He might have panicked at that, if he hadn’t been so tired. Buck would have to figure it out for himself. He and Chris had plans to ride into hell together, and he wasn’t going to keep him waiting much longer. With a sigh of resignation, he drifted off.

++++++++++

It was early afternoon when Josiah came to sit with Vin. Dr. Johnson had taken Nathan on a tour of his clinic, showing the awed healer all kinds of things that Sanchez hoped he’d never need to know about. He felt glad for Nathan in a small way. The dark-skinned man had found a mentor, and for the first time, the burden of his friends’ welfare did not sit solely on his shoulders.

Chris hadn’t woken up yet, and they all felt concerned about that, though no one verbalized it. Josiah had sat with him awhile, still relishing the opportunity to see the man living and breathing. They’d all been given a second chance here - a chance to realize what a gift the seven of them had in each other.

That was why he knew Vin wouldn’t die, although he couldn’t quite remember seeing a man who looked worse. Surely God had a hand in all of this, there were just too many coincidences for it to be random acts of fate. Then again, when had he ever understood God’s thinking? Taking Vin now would be the ultimate cheap shot, though.

The man in question pried open weary eyes one more time, although he couldn’t think of a reason to. He really thought he should be dead by now, but then, nothing had gone as he’d planned yet. He saw Josiah lean forward eagerly, and he wondered what he wanted him to do or say. "Josiah?" he questioned.

"Good to see you, Brother," the older man responded with a grin. He became serious though when he saw the look of despair that flicked across Vin’s features. Remembering his earlier conversation with Buck, the preacher took the opportunity to straighten his sick friend out on a few matters.

"Vin, listen to me. Chris isn’t dead. He’s sleeping in the room next door. Do you understand me, Vin?"

Listen to him? Why? He’d seen Chris die with his own eyes this time. Why would his friends do this to him? He was too damn tired to play this game again. He looked Josiah squarely in the eye. The man had never lied to him. Why now? Maybe to keep him hanging on a bit longer, keep him from giving up? All right then, if Chris was alive, where was he?

"Let me . . . see him." Vin choked out the words between gasping breaths.

Josiah looked down for a minute, just long enough to confirm the tracker’s doubt.

"He’s resting right now. But I swear to you, Vin, he is alive. And you know I don’t take to swearing."

That was true. Josiah was as good as his word. He’d ponder it later, when his mind was working properly. When everything hadn’t turned gray and dark and muddled in his head. When he could breathe better.

Josiah watched Vin lose his battle with consciousness once again. He wondered if he’d gotten through to him. Tanner’s skin had turned an even more ashen shade, and Josiah could see that his lips were blue-tinged. He didn’t have to be a doctor to know that Vin’s condition needed to improve and quickly. Timing had been everything since this whole thing began. It was time for Chris to wake up and get in here – Vin needed him.

++++++++++

Chris came to at that very moment, unbeknownst to Josiah. The thundering in his head, his constant companion for the last two days, had lessened some, and so he attempted to sit up on the edge of the bed. He groaned as the room spun, and he gratefully acknowledged that not eating for who knows how long may have been a good thing. After a few minutes though, his vision cleared and his stomach settled, and he got a good look at his surroundings. He had no idea where he was. He’d expected to wake up in that horrible cave again, not a nice, soft bed in a nice, clean room. And where was everyone?

He rose slowly to his fee, and shuffled to the door. He surmised he was in some kind of clinic by his surroundings, which meant Vin should be close by. He hoped. Having no idea how long he’d been out, or even if his friend had survived the trip here, he felt a desperate need to find someone who could give him some answers. Opening the door and peering into an empty hallway did nothing to alleviate his concerns.

He went to the first door on his right, wanting nothing more than to see Vin inside resting comfortably. But the man he saw in the bed was not Tanner. His initial disappointment turned to wonder when he realized who he was looking at - Daniel. He’d never had a chance to talk with Nathan and Josiah, never gotten the word that the man lived.

Chris moved over to the bedside and offered Daniel a tentative smile, which he returned.

"You’re not looking too good, Larabee."

"Could say the same for you, Daniel. Foolish thing you did, jumping in front of that gun for me. But I thank you for it." Chris offered sincerely.

Daniel’s smile grew. "I thought I’d take my chance to be hero – or at least, to save one."

Chris shook his head as he saw the younger man grimace in pain. He’d heard they had found Gill dead, but he still wished he’d put a bullet in the man when he had the chance. "I ain’t no hero. I’m looking at the real hero here. And I’m proud of you, Daniel. Glad to know you."

Daniel positively glowed with pride. He wanted nothing more than to spend some time with Larabee, but he knew for whom the gunman had been searching for when he came through the door.

"Vin’s across the hall."

Chris nodded, his eyes shining with gratitude for more reasons than one. "I’ll speak with you later."

Entering Vin’s room, he found Josiah hunched over the sharpshooter, apparently deep in prayer. His eyes slowly drifted up to Vin’s face and he stifled a gasp. Terrible didn’t begin to describe how bad he looked.

"Josiah?" he questioned softly, not wanting to intrude.

"Chris? You’re up! Thank God." Josiah rose to offer a hand to the gunman. "We could sure use your help here."

Chris looked doubtful. "What can I do? He looks so bad, Josiah." He repeated, "What can I do?" He looked at the big man forlornly, an expression so entirely foreign to the man, that Sanchez was taken aback for a moment.

"He just needs to know you’re here. He thinks you’re dead, Chris."

"What? Why would he think that?" But even as he asked, he knew why. The last time Vin had really seen him was in that cave when Hopewell shot him. He took the seat Josiah had vacated, and turning to Sanchez, he asked, "Where are the others?"

"Went to get something to eat. You want me to fill you in on what you missed now or later?"

"Don’t plan to be going anywhere anytime soon," he said as he looked over at Vin.

Strange how life and death events could be summed up in a fifteen minute conversation. Chris learned that he owed Daniel another debt. Apparently he’d been dogmatic in clearing Chris’s name and implicating the governor. Unfortunately, the boys had been unable to find any trace of the man, stalling the investigation indefinitely. Surprisingly, the gunman found he no longer cared. He just wanted to go home with all of his men – to feel whole again.

When Josiah rose and left the room, Chris hardly noticed. Vin had his complete, undivided attention, even if he was unaware of it. They were so close now, so close to being done with it all. All they needed was for Vin to get well. He thought back on his earlier vow to visit Josiah’s church every Sunday. Hell, he’d make it the first row, for just one more favor. One more miracle.

Vin had made a promise back in that cave, said he’d be fine. He always said that, but he rarely made promises. Chris leaned down and whispered softly into his best friend’s ear, "You promised, Pard. And I’ve never known you to go back on your word, especially to me."

Could he be wrong? Could that be Chris’s voice? He didn’t care much for being wrong, and truthfully, he rarely was wrong. He’d been blessed with a quick mind and a keen sense of intuition, which left him in the enviable position of rarely being – wrong. But he wouldn’t mind this time. This time, he’d give his life to be wrong. He slowly opened his eyes to find a blond head very close to his, green eyes shining with emotion.

He was wrong.

Chris was alive. The joy he felt at that moment quickly became tempered with something else. If Chris wasn’t waiting for him in hell, he’d be expecting him to be by his side on earth. And he wasn’t sure he could do that. Wasn’t at all sure he could keep his promise this time and be fine.

Chris smiled at seeing his friend awake, but noted the doubt in his eyes. Their connection intact, he stated, "You will make it through this, Vin. We’ve been through too much to quit now." Chris’s voice cracked as he continued, "It’s time to go home, Cowboy."

Home. That was the plan after all.

++++++++++

The next several days followed a pattern of three steps forward and two steps back. For every crisis Vin weathered, a new problem cropped up to take its place. Josiah said that it was a test. A test of faith for him, a test of skill for Nathan, a test of strength for Vin, and a test of tenacity for Chris – the only one who passed with flying colors.

Chris ignored his sore shoulder and stubborn headaches to spend his waking moments with Vin, knowing that the sharpshooter drew his strength from him. When the congestion in Vin’s lungs finally loosened, he supported him through the painful coughing spells that brought tears to the eyes of both men. When the fever re-asserted its ugly head, the gunman wrapped his friend in blankets to ward off chills, and bathed his searing flesh with cool water. When Vin’s stomach rebelled from the medicines and teas and poison that invaded his body, Larabee rubbed his back and wiped his face, and promised him he’d feel better soon. And during those long, dark nights when Vin tired and walked too close to the edge, Chris stayed by his side to keep him from going over.

Although the other men were more than willing to assist with Vin’s care, more often than not, they found themselves in the way. All had reached an unspoken agreement that they would wait for the tracker to recover and return to Four Corners together. Spending hours in the big city turned out to be an enjoyable way to pass the time, in spite of the worry they felt for their friend.

It was late on a particularly difficult night for Vin, that Chris heard the men come through the clinic doors. JD and Buck laughed and teased each other in their usual way, something about which of them the pretty waitress really flirted with. Josiah’s slightly slurred voice broke in to remind them about the sins of the flesh. Ezra cackled and happily relayed how much his recent winnings had added to his fortune.

Chris looked down at his sick friend. Vin had been unable to keep the pain medication down all day, and consequently had gotten little rest. Soft, sparse whimpers escaped him periodically, despite his efforts to quell them. The deep hollows of his too thin face stood out starkly in the pale light of the dimly lit room, leaving Chris with a sick feeling in his own gut.

And his men were out on the town.

He rose on rubbery legs and started for the door, throwing a glance at Nathan as he sat reading nearby. Stepping into the hall, he greeted the men. "You boys have a good time?"

The intent behind his tone and his trademark glare was obvious to all four men who stopped in their tracks. Before they could answer, he continued, "Vin’s fighting for his life, and you’re out having the time of yours’."

Buck could clearly see the worry and exhaustion lining his friend’s face, so he held his temper in check, and spoke softly. "You know we’re here for Vin if he needs us, Chris."

"Just like you were there for him a few weeks ago? None of you listened to him. None of you were around to keep him from riding out of town sick and alone. How the hell does a man ride across half the western territories in his condition? How does it take his friends a week to find him? You weren’t there for him then, and you’re not now," Chris spat out in frustration. He knew even as the words left his mouth that he was being unfair. He knew how exasperating and downright devious Tanner could be when he got an idea in his head. But he was just too damn angry to let it go - angry at fate or God, or more than likely, at himself. He’d screwed up from the beginning.

Buck again responded quietly. "You weren’t there, Chris. You don’t know what it was like. And yeah, there ain’t a one of us that doesn’t wish we’d done things different. I suspect that includes you. But no one here it to blame for what happened, and that includes you, too. And you’re wrong. We are here for Vin - and for you – if you’d let us be."

Leave it to Buck to get to the heart of the matter. Anger and blame solved nothing, changed nothing. He’d lashed out at the people he cared about most. And Vin would hate that. He could almost picture his cocky grin and hear him say, "Get over it, Larabee. Move on with a new plan." Chris lowered his head for a moment, before turning his gaze to each of the men before him.

"I . . . I’m sorry. Guess I just want to go on home. Guess I just want us all to go home."

The poignancy of the gunman’s confession touched their hearts, and they settled in for the night, unified in that goal.

++++++++++

Several days later, Vin expressed the exact same sentiments with the same heart felt yearning. He seemed to have turned the corner, although his progress was slow. Dr. Johnson felt he needed at least another week, but soon learned that corralling seven men proved to be beyond even his capabilities. Besides, Nathan had been taking care of these men long before he’d entered the picture and he knew the tracker would be in good hands. He’d loaded them up with supplies, and enough instructions to make Vin’s eyes hurt.

Daniel had hobbled out to say good-bye, promising to write when he got settled in Kansas. After dealing with the likes of men like Hopewell and James and Royal, Chris felt new hope knowing good men still existed outside of his men and Judge Travis.

The journey that took a week coming, would be double that going back. Vin couldn’t ride more than a few hours at a time, but no one cared or complained. Nathan decided the mountains really were spectacular after all, and JD found he looked forward to those stunning moments when the sun first appeared over the eastern range.

They’d tried to find the small village where Marita lived, but had no luck. Frankly, the other boys wondered if it ever existed at all. Chris didn’t say anything, but he didn’t remember the girl, and he wondered if Vin had conjured her up, as well. He had been so sick for so long, after all. Still, he felt bad when he noted the disappointment in Vin’s eyes. Whoever this angel was, she meant a lot to his friend.

They were only a few hours from Four Corners when Vin pulled up short.

"What’s wrong?" Chris asked, concerned.

"Just got t’ thinkin’."

"On what?"

"You know how we was always talkin’ about havin’ a plan?"

Chris had no idea where Vin was going with this conversation, but he followed along. "Yeah, not that it ever worked out that way."

"That’s right. That’s my point!" Vin added excitedly.

Okay, now he’d lost him. "Uh – what was your point, Vin?"

"Nothin’ worked out the way we planned. But it all worked out anyway. Maybe the plan’s not so important after all. Maybe we’re just supposed to take what happens and deal with it."

Both men pondered that a moment. For an uneducated man, Vin certainly had a philosophical nature. Here they were at the end of a grueling journey, and he was talking about fate and destiny.

"I reckon that’s true, Vin. But I still like to have a plan." Chris smiled as he added, "Even if it’s just to frustrate me when it doesn’t work out."

Vin returned the smile. "Yeah, me too. Reckon that’s just the kind of men we are, Cowboy."

They traveled on in companionable silence, satisfied in the knowledge that, plan or no plan - they were going home together.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The six men lined the hard, wooden bench – long, gangly limbs filling the small space with no room to spare.

JD squirmed at the end, shifting about restlessly in an effort to get comfortable, while trying and failing to keep his mind on the speaker. Damn! Casey looked pretty this morning. He turned his head a bit to peak at her again, only to receive an elbow in the ribs by Buck.

Buck knew the kid wouldn’t be able to keep still. He was having a difficult time himself. They sure didn’t build these things for men his size. His legs didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves, and he had to keep his arms pressed close to his side – that is when he wasn’t elbowing JD. He couldn’t blame the boy for looking, though, all the women in town looked especially pretty today. He started to turn to get another look himself, when he felt Nathan’s glare upon him.

Nathan had purposely chosen this position. Somebody had to keep Buck and JD in line, and since they constantly teased him about being a mother hen, it may as well be him. He had Ezra on the other side. Knowing the man had been up until the wee hours of the morning, he kept an elbow ready to give him a poke should he drift off. He was surprised, though, when he heard Ezra’s strong tenor voice join in song with his own.

It was ungodly early for the gambler. He would have enjoyed this more at a later hour, to be sure. But in truth, some things were worth getting out of bed for, and the camaraderie he shared with the others topped the list. However, he’d put up just enough fuss not to disappoint them. He glanced at the man next to him. He still wouldn’t call him well dressed, but at least he’d removed that infernal buckskin coat and managed to comb his hair. Most importantly, he was here with them, as was the man next to him – something Ezra doubted any of them would ever take for granted again.

Like JD, Vin had trouble keeping still. It wasn’t the setting or the circumstances or even the hard pew. He had often slipped into the back of Josiah’s services on Sunday mornings, a fact known only to the preacher. It was where he sat that bothered him now. Hell, why did Chris have to promise he’d be in the front row? He looked at the man sitting next to him. He never did say what this bargain with God was all about anyway. He guessed it didn’t matter. He was content to be with the boys this beautiful morning. But he’d have preferred to sit in back.

Chris smiled to himself as he read his friend’s thoughts. When he had announced yesterday that he intended to go to Josiah’s service this morning, he hadn’t been surprised when Vin agreed to accompany him. He hadn’t been surprised when one by one, the others agreed to come, as well – every one of them relieved to be together again and willing to offer thanks for it. But when they entered the church shortly after dawn and Chris headed for the front pew, Vin looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"What we goin’ all the way up there for?" he’d asked.

Chris answered with a gleam in his eye, "Because I made a deal."

Vin caught on pretty quickly and knew immediately to whom Larabee had made the promise. "Why’d you go and do a thing like that? You promised to sit in front?"

Chris only smiled as he turned to his friend. "You can stay in the back if you want to, Vin, you don’t have to sit up front with me."

But he knew he would. In the end, Tanner had muttered something under his breath and taken his seat beside his friend, where they both knew he belonged.

Josiah stood behind the pulpit, his heart swelling with love and pride at the men lined up before him. Each a good man with a good heart. Flawed certainly, but so much better than most, and so much more than the sum of seven. If some higher power controlled them, knew the plan, then so be it. Together, they would face whatever came.

Josiah had sought out many truths in his years of spiritual study, and accepted some along the way. But this morning, one single truth burned bright within him. Seven men had become brothers, and God help the man who came between them.

END