Though each man in the group was like family to the youngest, no one was closer than Buck. He was like an older brother. Especially with the way he constantly rode herd over JD like a mother hen. Sometimes it was more annoying than helpful, but deep down the younger man knew it was all meant out of concern for his welfare. Buck was always there when he needed him. And from the pained look on the ladies’ man’s face just before he fled the cave and the raw quiet sob that had escaped the soft hearted man’s lips, it was obvious that it was time for JD to return the favor. Knowing that the others would look after Chris he went after his friend and brother.

As the young sheriff emerged from the darker interior of the cave he put his hand up to shade his eyes from the blinding sunshine. The glare from the snow was incredible and it took a few moments for his vision to adjust. Finally able to discern the surroundings, he couldn’t find Buck anywhere. Then a sound from behind the trees not only caught his attention but nearly broke his heart.

During the search that day Buck had been shadowed by the frightening mental picture that had just unfolded into reality right before his eyes in the cave. Shouldering the guilt that his interference might be to blame for the situation, the sight of his oldest friend once again facing his worst fear all over again was more than he could stand. Seeing Vin lying so still and pale on the cold cavern floor had sent his emotions plummeting, but when Nathan had been unable to find signs of life and Chris had pushed him away gathering the younger man into his arms, it had felt as if his heart had broken right in two. Unable to suppress the anguished sob that escaped him he ran out of the cave and sought shelter in the trees that lined the right side of the cave near the little lake. So lost in his own self-recrimination and grief, he never heard JD approach. He hadn’t wanted the kid to see him like this, as the tears flowed down his face and he gasped for breath.

JD just stood at the edge of the tree line. He could see Buck where he had slid to the ground, his back against one of the trees. The big man’s face was buried in his hands and the strong shoulders shook with emotion. Not wanting to embarrass him, JD hung back for a few minutes, giving the ladies’ man time to compose himself. Somehow Buck must have sensed his presence because his face lifted to look directly at the young sheriff.

It was a well-known fact that Buck had a heart of gold and often wore it on his sleeve without regard. Ladies were held in high esteem and his friends received a loyalty of utmost importance to him. Though the two could come into conflict on occasion, the others knew that in the end, they could always count on Buck. JD depended on the older man’s knowledge and guidance though he might never admit it out loud. He had seen many sides of the man who was an open book for all the world to read, but JD had never seen him like this and it was a bit unnerving.

He had seen the big ladies’ man happy. Buck’s natural personality was boisterous and fun loving. Anger was something that came out on occasions when either someone of the fairer sex or one of his friends was in danger. His easygoing nature hid a fierce sense of right and wrong that when unleashed could be a force to be reckoned with. Of all of the seven Buck was the one who showed the most emotions. But this was different. Buck seemed consumed with grief. They all cared for Vin and had also assumed that of all of them a tragic outcome to the search would have had the hardest consequences on their leader. Maybe that was it. Buck was not only grieving for the loss of one friend, but of two.

Somehow his own discomfort and worry at the moment seemed to take a backseat. He had to help Buck and in doing so help himself. If he could just figure out how he was supposed to do that. As the shaking shoulders and hitched breaths slowed, JD took a tentative step forward, still unsure. He’d faced villains, guns, dynamite, and numerous trials since he’d joined up with the seven. He’d been scared and nervous many times. Buck had even been the one to tell him that only a fool wouldn't be nervous, because that was what would help keep him alive. Well, he was certainly nervous right now and the only way to get through it was to face it head on.

"Buck?" His own voice sounded weak and childish to him. Clearing his throat and attempting to show strength he didn’t really feel, he tried again. "Buck?! Are you okay?" Stupid question. Of course he wasn’t okay. ‘Great start, JD.’

"I mean, well,…" He was floundering and that only made him angry at himself. ‘Damnit.’ This wasn’t going well. Most of what he had learned had been through the examples set by the others, so what would they do? Nathan was good at putting others at ease with his quiet spoken way. He might even offer some medicinal tea to help Buck relax. Ezra would probably spout some big speech full of five dollar words that JD couldn’t half understand. Josiah would quote some relevant scripture or tell some significant tale of the past. Chris, well…. Under these circumstances, JD wasn’t sure what the hardened gunslinger would do, but he was Buck’s oldest friend. Then Vin…. JD felt his stomach recoil at just the thought of his friend and mentor. Vin would know what to do. He always seemed to just be there when he was needed.

Then a thought occurred to the young sheriff. He knew what Vin would do. Walking over to where Buck sat against the tree, his head still down, JD sat down beside him to sit quietly. Offering his support and friendship without saying a word. Buck would talk when he was ready and the younger man would wait patiently and listen.

A few silent minutes passed, feeling like so much longer, before Buck spoke. His voice was low and rough with barely suppressed emotion.

"This is all my fault."

JD had to work hard to keep the look of utter shock off of his face. Since starting out to find Buck his mind had been working through all of the reasons he could imagine for his friend’s severe reaction to the recent turn of events, but the ladies’ man’s first five words completely caught the young man off guard. That was not what he had been expecting to hear.

As Buck began his heartfelt confession, JD listened silently. All the while his mind was working furiously to think of the right things to say to not only ease the big man’s suffering, but make him understand that he was not responsible for what had happened.

Consciousness was fleeting as Vin once again found himself drifting through the fog that was supposed to be his brain. Fleeting images of snow, flying, pain, a warm cabin, and a kind feminine voice bounced through him like echoes off the walls of a vast canyon. Not quite as loud and clear as they should be, but nonetheless real to him even as he desperately clawed at the memories trying to gain some equilibrium in his unbalanced state. Where was he? And why was it so dark?

At first he felt nothing. No pain or sickness. He was neither hot nor cold. And the darkness, though a bit disconcerting, was also a touch peaceful. Then the sensations started. Slowly at first, then building at an almost alarming rate as his entire body felt on fire one minute and then totally encased in ice the next. The pain itself came more slowly, like a thousand pins pressing against his bare skin.

The recollection of a child, a small boy, talking to him, asking him to hang on, and holding to his hand floated through his mind like a whisper on the wind. He had promised to look out for the boy until… Lizbeth returned. The boy’s mother was gone and he was all alone. A familiar pang of loneliness ripped through him more powerful than any amount of physical pain could have.

His mother had left him once. She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t wanted to. This he knew in his head and in his heart, but still it hurt with a familiar intensity. This time he had left a small boy to fend for himself. The feel of the tiny hand within his own was gone, leaving in its wake a growing sense of dread. Thoughts of guilt assailed him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.’

The ground beneath him seemed to give way and it felt as if he were falling. Completely out of control and with nothing to grab on to, his heart pounded in his ears and he flailed uselessly. But somewhere in the darkness he felt a hand latch on to his, slowing his descent. The grip was unyielding and exuded a powerful intensity that seemed to replenish his own weakening spirit. This was not the hand of a child and yet it too was familiar. The feeling of strength similar to that of the child’s. Then he heard it.

The gunslinger’s own thoughts of despair clouded his mind, blocking out anything else that was happening around him. How could this have happened again? How had he allowed it? Just stop for a drink, maybe a bath and a bed for the night, and then probably some more whiskey. He’d never planned to stay. Never planned on getting involved in someone else’s fight. And he sure as hell never planned on meeting one scrawny assed Texan with blue eyes that could see into his very soul.

But then again, had he not, Nathan would likely be dead, the Seminole village would have been destroyed and a long list of dire consequences would now be a reality. Even with all of these thoughts his main focus remained on the fact that had he just walked away, his heart would not feel again as if it had shattered into a million pieces. And the deep ache that currently resided within his chest would not feel as if it were squeezing every ounce of life from his body.

The weight in his arms was no comparison to the heaviness of his heart. His hardened green eyes raked over the pale form that had once held so much life. It still seemed unreal. Vin’s body was like a block of ice, but Chris barely noticed. It had been cold out in the open winter air during the search for his missing friend. The gunslinger had felt it seep into every bone and muscle. But with the outcome of the search another coldness more chilling than the artic winds had begun to take over within him.

‘Damn you, Vin Tanner. How dare you do this to me.’ Chris’ thoughts were consumed with pain and fear. Without conscious thought, Chris reached down to take Vin’s cold hand in his. ‘Don’t do this. Not again. I can’t take this again.’

A twitch of a finger nearly caused Chris to drop the hand he now held. Green eyes, wide with shock and uncertainty, stared down at the younger man’s face. Was he imagining things or had Vin’s hand just moved? Watching closely for any other signs of life, holding desperately to a hope, a prayer, the blond didn’t dare blink lest he miss something. ‘Please let this be real, let Vin be alive.’

The next twitch was around the closed eyes. Barely discernable and once again causing Chris to wonder if it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him. But he couldn’t let go of the glimmer of warmth that crept into his heart.

What happened next would truly stay with every man in that cave for the rest of their lives. If asked of the event the first thing to come to mind and heart would have been ‘a miracle’. But they would verbally assess it to sheer will and mule-headed stubbornness. And never before had they been more relieved by such traits.

"Awww heee…ellll."

The quiet expression was more breath than anything and mostly slurred, but in the dazed silence it echoed in the hearts of every man in the cave. Had it not been something they had all heard on numerous occasions from the unassuming tracker, they likely wouldn’t have even understood it. But this particular turn of phrase was a trademark.

Nathan felt all of the blood drain from his own face in shock. Josiah’s silent prayers stopped abruptly. Ezra swallowed hard, not sure if he should question his hearing or start taking bets on his own sanity. And Chris…?

The blond nearly choked on his own air at the garbled sound of his best friend’s voice. Already certain to never hear it again, it was a sweeter sound than anything he could think of at the moment. His heart seemed to swell within his chest, but he quickly tempered the building hope with the grim reality of many a hard life’s lessons learned. "Nathan?"

Chris’s voice jolted the healer from his astonishment. Nathan had seen many things in his life as a slave, a stretcher bearer, and afterwards as he traveled looking for his place in life. But never before had he seen someone awake from the dead and he was sure that was what had just happened. Vin had been cold and lifeless. Maybe he wasn’t a doctor, but he knew how to check for a pulse and Vin’s heart had not been beating. Had it?

The time for questioning his abilities or sanity would have to wait. He had a live patient to look after.

The first thing Vin was aware of was that he hurt. From his pounding head to his throbbing and tingling extremities. The words came out of his mouth instinctually and he hadn’t even realized he had spoken out loud. Awareness gave way to even more unpleasant sensations. Cold. Bone aching cold. He felt like he was lying on a block of ice or then again maybe he was the block of ice.

Had he not been so numb he would have realized that he was being held. Something that might have elicited a violent reaction. Chris was one step ahead of this possibility. Not ready to let go of his hold on his friend and not caring at the moment what anyone else thought about it, he tried to reassure Vin. He knew the tracker better than most. Knew how much he disliked being touched and some of the disturbing reasons why. More than once someone had mistakenly startled the young man and nearly paid the price.

"Vin. You’re okay." His voice sounded a lot calmer than he really felt. The tones soothing like when he used to talk to Adam when his son had awakened from a nightmare. "You hear me? Everything’s gonna be just fine now." Even as the words left his mouth his brain added. ‘God, I wish that were a certainty.’

Vin’s body shifted ever so slightly in Chris’s grasp and a low moan escaped the injured man.

"Easy there, Vin." Nathan’s practiced hands held the tracker’s shoulder’s firmly even as Chris tightened his own hold slightly, not sure just what injuries their friend had suffered and not wanting to further complicate any of them. "I’m just gonna check him over, Chris." Nathan used the same calming voice with his leader, noticing the tightly coiled tension that seemed to exude from the blond’s body. No doubt, the tracker’s needs were the only thing at the moment holding him together.

"Listen to Nathan, Vin." Chris’ words were directed at Vin even as his eyes met up with Nathan’s. The healer was taken aback by the pleading look in them. He had seen it often enough in his chosen profession. It was the look many a loved one had given him as a family member lay sick or injured. That look that said so much, demanded so much. The unspoken plea that practically gave voice to the bearer’s deepest, darkest fears. ‘Please don’t let him/her die.’ It was a look that always caused the knot in his stomach to coil that much tighter and a look he had never thought to see in one Chris Larabee’s icy green eyes.

Quickly turning away from that gaze that had echoed his own fears, Nathan took his hands from Vin’s shoulders and began to slowly assess for damage to the slight frame.

The still cold skin had Nathan quickly regaining control of the situation and yelling out demands, knowing they would be carried out without question. "Josiah, stay close in case I needs ya. Ezra, get every blanket and bedroll in here." Not aware of anything but Vin, he continued handing out jobs. "Buck and JD, find some wood and get us a fire goin’. This boy’s like a block a ice. Gotta get him thawed out and quick like. Also, find some clothes in his saddlebags and put ‘em near the fire so’s they can warm up."

Josiah looked up to notice for the first time that two of the fold were absent. Ezra caught his gaze and having remembered hearing some noise as Buck and JD had left, tilted his head toward the exit and shrugged. "I’ll see to it that our comrades in arms are briefed on their assignments and administer to them post haste." Then the gambler practically ran out of the cave, causing a slight grin to tug at the preacher’s lips and a snide thought came to mind. ‘Ezra, you are such a fraud.’

"Vin’s dead and it’s all my fault. Chris’ll never forgive me and I don’t blame ‘em one little bit. You’da thought I’d learned my lesson before to keep my nose out his business, but no…" Buck had been rambling for the last couple of minutes having explained to JD all about telling Vin to leave Chris alone. JD just sat, his butt near frozen, and listened like Vin had often done for him; all the while still trying to figure out just what to say once the big ladies’ man ran out of steam. Visions of Vin sneaking out of Nathan’s clinic by way of the window and that same wily tracker turning to walk away even as Chris, glare staring daggers, was still ‘talking’ to him nearly made the youth laugh out loud, but he suppressed it. Instead he turned his big hazel eyes to face his best friend head on. He had just one little question to ask.

"Buck." The firmness in the kid’s voice caught the older man’s attention and he stopped speaking in mid ramble. Tearful blue eyes looked up, full of remorse. And with the straightest face he could manage, JD asked. "When was the last time you saw Vin do anything just because someone told him to?"

It took a second for JD’s line of thinking to dawn on the big man and even he could barely resist a tight smile at the thought of anyone trying to tell the stubborn tracker what to do. The kid had a point. And he might have even had time to reflect on it and see the sense in it had a fast moving figure not interrupted the two.

"If you two are quite finished communing with the natural elements our adept healer is in need of your assistance."

Reality came crashing back to JD and Buck with a gut sickening clarity.

"Your newly acquired duties include gathering firewood for the campfire, starting said campfire within the confines of the natural fissure, and retrieving some fresh attire for our wayward friend."

"Huh!" Buck and JD’s voices echoed each other.

This time it wasn’t the lack of understanding the gambler’s terminology that had evoked the twin responses, but the reasoning behind said requested actions. Why in the world did they need to start a fire? Surely they weren’t planning on staying here? And clothes?

A sudden worry exploded in Buck’s mind. Chris? Had something happened to Chris? He knew the dark gunslinger was distraught, but surely he hadn’t done anything rash.

With the speed born of many a mad dash out of numerous compromising situations, the ladies’ man was up and in the cave before either of the other two men knew what was happening.

The scene that awaited Buck when he entered the cave was nothing he could have imagined. Chris was much the same as he had been before, still seated on the ground with the tracker cradled in his lap. But what was different was that the lifeless body wasn’t so lifeless anymore. Buck thought his knees would buckle with shocked relief as a feeble pale hand tried to push against Nathan’s as the persistent healer felt around the tracker’s torso.

Chris quickly snatched the errant hand, clasping it in his own. The hand was still like ice, but held a warmth suffused by the mere fact that it was moving. "Stop it, Vin. Let Nathan take care of ya. Ya listening to me?" Despite the demanding words, there was no anger held in the tone, only concern and a touch of relief.

Had JD not nearly ran into him, causing him to grab at the wall to keep from falling, he was sure his weak knees would have already betrayed him. The big man’s quiet whisper seemed to echo louder in the cave. "Vin?"

Chris looked up, as did Josiah. Buck’s face spoke a thousand emotions. Fear, relief, and … something else? The preacher figured he should go and help motivate the open mouthed pair now gaping at their newly revived friend and hurried out of the cave, dragging them behind him. He would enlighten the two and then make sure Nathan’s orders were carried out.

Chris stood just away from where Nathan was tucking an unconscious Vin into the mountain of warmed blankets. He had held the younger man until the icy body had once again gone completely limp. Even though Nathan had reassured him that the tracker was only unconscious, the dead weight was all too familiar. Josiah had easily lifted the slight man and placed him on the bedrolls near the fire that Buck had been building.

Not even sure himself what he was feeling, his own emotions confused him. One minute he had been unable to pull himself from Vin’s side and the next he couldn’t stand to be near him. Almost as if the tight rein he had on his raging fear would overcome him should he even touch the young tracker who at the moment looked even younger. Childlike even.

Chris had stood silently and watched as Nathan had instructed Josiah to strip to his underwear and crawl into the blankets with Vin. All of them knew enough about the cold to understand that the big man’s body heat was vital in restoring the freezing man’s own natural body warmth. It had been an internal struggle not to just push the preacher out of the way and do it himself. Vin was his best friend and the gunslinger was still feeling the lingering guilt for the fight that had sent his friend out into the cold.

But his stubborn manly pride, fueled by an unmentionable panic, won out over his heart and still he stood as others tended to his best friend. Over an hour passed as the others milled around the cave, bringing things in or taking things out. Water, wood, saddlebags. Movement everywhere, save for two individuals. One because he lay unconscious on the ground below and the other because he didn’t dare for fear of breaking the spell. With each rise and fall of Vin’s chest, Chris felt his own heart continue to beat. And so he stood like a statue and watched.

Daring a quick glance around the cave he naturally took mental note of what the others were doing. JD and Ezra were putting Vin’s saddlebags back together after retrieving the fresh clothing. Nathan and Josiah were still attending the injured man. And Buck was working on the campfire. Barely acknowledging the vigor with which the ladies’ man was working and noting only that at the rate he was going the fire would take over the cave soon, Chris turned his attention back to his best friend. Still frighteningly motionless. Nathan looked up and saw the lines of worry that seemed permanently etched in the blonde’s face. Patting Josiah on the shoulder to indicate he should watch over Vin, he stood up and crossed to where their leader stood.

Though his mind tracked the healer’s movements, Chris’s ever watchful eyes never left Vin. He started to ask the question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered, but Nathan beat him to the punch.

"I’ll just go ahead and tell ya. I don’t know if he’s gonna make it or not. What I do know is that he ought to be dead, but he’s not. He should have froze to death, but he didn’t. Call it luck, stubbornness, or a miracle, but that boy ought not to still be breathin’… But he is. I also know he’s one all fired lucky son of a gun. With the distance he fell…" He didn’t have to complete the thought for they all knew what could, and should, have happened.

"The worst of it is that gash on his noggin’, bled quite a bit, and he’s likely got a concussion. Some of them ribs are bruised up good but not broke. Lots a cuts and scraps. Some almighty bad bruises. But it don’t feel like anything’s broke. Got him cleaned up and wrapped up as best I can for now." Blowing out a breath of frustration and sheer confusion he continued. "Of course I also ain’t gonna lie to ya. That head wound alone is bad enough. Unpredictable. He near froze to death. Hell, he did freeze to death. And there’s no telling what I might be missing ‘til he wakes up good and can tell us where all he’s a hurtin’."

Nathan paused as he glanced back over at his patient then without looking at Chris added, "He’s warmer now, but… He’s still too cold. Gotta get him warmed up real good so’s he don’t go gettin’ pneumonia, but…" He wasn’t sure how Chris was going to react to the next piece of information. "We can’t stay here."

The blond’s head snapped to regard the dark healer as if he were some unknown entity suddenly sprung from the ground below. "What?" The voice had a low threatening quality to it and every taut muscle on the brooding blonde’s body rippled with barely restrained fury. Having expected no less, Nathan ignored the warnings, knowing they were natural gut reactions to what the gunslinger thought of as a threat. Not to himself, but something much more important. Vin.

Nathan swallowed before continuing. He had to make his point not only for Vin’s sake, but for the safety of them all. "I know’s what ya thinkin’. I don’t like it none neither, but Josiah and I were talkin’. There’s not enough wood around to keep much of a fire going for more ‘n a day at the most unlessen we start bringin’ some trees down." Reading the gunslinger’s thoughts and knowing he would chop the whole mountain down if he thought it would help Vin, Nathan quickly continued.

"And iffen we stay up here tonight, I just ain’t too sure when we’ll be able to get back down. For one thing the skies are clear and the temperature’s already starting to drop out there. You think it was cold last night? Well, tonight’s likely to be twice as bad. What little has melted on that ledge that’s supposed to be our path down is gonna be frozen solid by morning. And Josiah suspects more snow is on the way. Even JD said that Vin told him to expect a snowfall Christmas Day. Haven’t known him to be far off on the weather yet. Has a sense about it." Nathan waited for it all to sink in.

Chris didn’t like it. Not at all. But even with his tired and worried brain he could understand the logic in what Nathan was saying. Allowing his gaze to drift once again to the man who he would face any danger to save, he felt the yoke of leadership once again weighing him down. This wasn’t just Vin’s safety they were talking about. By staying where they were or even waiting to go back to town until the next day he was risking all of their lives. He knew each one of them would gladly do it for the sake of one of the others, including Vin. But Vin wouldn’t want that and neither would he if the situation was reversed. Plus, Vin’s life might be even more at risk if they stayed. Damned if they did and damned if they didn’t.

There really was only one choice.

"Pack up! We’re leaving in less than thirty minutes. I want to be back in town before midnight. And, put on all the extra clothes you can manage. It’s going to get cold fast." As an unspoken afterthought, ‘And Nathan’s already got his hands full.’

Josiah saw Buck start to stand up. Saw the look of protest in his eyes and gently laid a hand on the tense shoulder. "We don’t have a choice, brother. The weather’s working against us."

Buck knew in his head they were right, but his heart was still hurting from the near miss and the small reprieve he had felt when he walked back into the cave to find Vin alive. It was like a man awaiting the guillotine and getting a pardon. Yet still he felt as if the blade lay just above his head and the hot breath of his executioner was brushing against the hairs of his neck. Nothing would be okay until he knew for sure that Vin would be all right. He had overheard Nathan’s words to Chris. This wasn’t over by a long shot. The jury was still out assessing his guilt even when he himself had already pronounced himself at fault.

Screwing up his own courage and mentally kicking himself into gear, Chris walked over and knelt by Vin. Reaching out a tentative hand, held steady by sheer will, he started to lay it upon Vin’s forehead. His gut clenched tight at the still colorless face shrouded by Vin’s light brown hair. Memories of the cool skin against his own, too much akin to death, made him resist the touch and he pulled back, angry at himself more than anything. Instead, he carefully adjusted the blankets around Vin’s neck, making sure they didn’t come up too high. Vin didn’t like his head covered in the least and kept the blankets away from his neck. It was just one of the little things that Chris had noticed over time. Whether it was from not wanting to feel closed in, the reminder of the noose that awaited him in Tascosa, or a little of both, the gunslinger wasn’t sure, but either way it was the little bits of knowledge that showed him just how close he had become to the ex-bounty hunter.

The fact that Vin liked sugar in his coffee only when he was relaxed, the way he arranged things in his saddlebags a certain way making sure the things he would need first were always on top at the ready, or the nervous habit he had of looking at his hands and ducking his head when someone or something made him self-conscious. Things most people would pay little or no heed to were the things Chris held in his heart like small pieces of golden treasure. It sounded stupid, but then he realized just how many little things he remembered about Sarah. The way she liked to sing when she was working around the house, the way she always set the table the same way every time and if he moved anything she would unconsciously move it back, or the way she talked endlessly when she was nervous. God, he missed those little things.

Feeling his resolve waning he reached out to lay his hand on Vin’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you quit on me yet. Don’t you dare.’ With a gentle squeeze he stood up and nearly fell back down as a wave of dizziness hit him like a stone wall.

Buck had been watching Chris out of the corner of his eye as he helped to pack up the camp. He wanted to talk to Chris, to confess his guilt and ease his conscious, but knew this wasn’t the time or place. His oldest friend was carrying enough burdens and didn’t need him to add to them. It could keep for now. Buck saw Chris start to stand up then sway. Lightning quick reflexes that were a necessity for any gunslinger had him at his leader’s side before he could hit the ground.

"Whoa there, stud." Buck felt his own worries increase tenfold as he eased Chris back to the ground. "Just sit yourself right here. Nathan?" Josiah and Nathan were just coming back inside when the cry was heard.

The dark healer knelt down in front of his second patient. In all of his worry over Vin he had all but forgotten about the knock to the head that Chris had taken earlier in the day. Combine that with the physical and emotional exhaustion that was plain in every line of the blonde’s face and it was a wonder he hadn’t passed out on them already. "Chris? I know you have to have a headache, but are you having any blurred vision or nausea?"

Chris pushed the hands that held him away, but didn’t try to get up. "I’m fine. Just got up too fast." His angry tone was from frustration and the knowledge that he just didn’t have time for this. Vin was in a bad way and he had to…, they had to get him back to town. Taking a deep breath, and trying hard to keep his voice more even, he replied. "It’s been a long day. Just give me a minute and I’ll be fine." Bringing his green eyes up to meet the dark brown ones of Nathan’s he tried to show more confidence than he felt.

Either it worked or Nathan just wasn’t in the mood to fight him. "Alright, but if ya start feelin’ sick or dizzy again, you let me know. And when we gets back to town I want ya to get some food and rest." Nathan knew that trying to push it now wouldn’t work. Not until Vin was safely tucked away in his clinic. But once that was done, he’d see to it that Chris listened to him even if he had to enlist a little help to insure his orders were carried out. "Just sit right there and look after Vin whiles we gets things ready and don’t go arguing with me. Whether ya likes it or not, ya took a right nasty knock to the head. And like I said before, those are unpredictable. You don’t want me to have two patients to worry over, now do ya?"

The no nonsense tone of the healer brooked no argument from the tired gunslinger. Truth be told Chris felt like shit. It wasn’t bad enough that the haunting memories of holidays past had robbed him of proper rest and sustenance for over a week and now this. God, he felt like he could sleep for a week. But even that prospect was frightening, especially after the dreams he had been having of late. So sit he did, mapping out in his mind the quickest route back to town and running scenarios in his mind as to how long it would take. Anything to keep his mind off the morbid feelings that kept trying to creep in. So lost in trying not to think about how pale Vin was, how unnaturally still, he didn’t even realize that the others had finished with the preparations and were ready to leave until Josiah reached down a hand to help him up.

"Buck and I are going to take turns carrying Vin." Josiah spoke firmly, all the while expecting some protest. When it didn’t come he began to worry even more. He knew Chris was worried about Vin, they all were, but this was unnatural. Other times when Vin had been injured it had been Chris who sat with him constantly. Chris who was there nearly every time the tracker needed a drink of water or a steadying hand. And Chris who staunchly insisted on carrying his wounded brother with him on his horse, holding to the younger man as if he held his own life within his grasp. And in some ways, the big preacher figured that was true.

There was definitely something deeper going on. It was as if the black clad gunslinger was still pulling away. Maybe it was too much to ask for the blond to battle the past demons while being faced with all too similar ones in the present. For now he’d let it go. Once they got back to town he would see if some intervention and guidance were needed, for there was little doubt in Josiah’s mind that if anyone could will Vin Tanner back into the land of the living it was Chris Larabee.

Within minutes the group was once again mounted and once again seven, though for how long, none of them knew or cared to speculate on. Buck had vehemently insisted on taking the first turn at carrying Vin, while the others spaced themselves along the trail for safety should the ground prove already more treacherous. They had found their lost brother and now were taking him home, but heavy hearts still abounded. The initial happiness of Vin being alive was now tempered with stark reality that he still could be lost to them.

It was a quiet trip with each man lost in his own thoughts and worries. Chris threw himself into getting his men safely home, completely blocking out everything else that vied for his attention. Nathan hovered near his dangerously ill patient while trying to keep an eye on Chris, though he feared that the deepest wounds of the dark clad gunslinger were far beyond his repair. With each mile traveled he hoped that the tracker would awaken at least enough to drink some water. The majority of his injuries, though not life threatening, only added to the problems of exposure. Then there was the head wound and the chance of some internal injury that he was unaware of. They had yet to see Vin fully conscious and other than the quiet curse that had welcomed him back into the land of the living and a few movements and moans, the young man had been unresponsive and thus unable to give any indication to unseen injuries. But this was the night of the greatest of all miracles, so like the others, Nathan hoped beyond hope for another.

As the weary travelers neared their destination, the lights from the street bonfires in town were visible. The night had turned bitter cold, just as they had suspected, and each of them were thankful for Chris’s warning to don extra clothing though even that only helped a little. Though the day’s sun had erased nearly every trace of the previous night’s storm, a few clouds were now beginning to move in with the promise of more snow to come. Vin rarely missed when predicting the weather and none of them had any doubt that by tomorrow winter would once again rear its ugly head. Though it might only last a short time in town and the surrounding flat lands, the area where they had found Vin would likely be enshrouded with winter’s glory until Spring. It had been a sound decision to get back to town. In an area that normally saw a relatively mild winter, there were exceptions and this winter had already proven to be one.

The town was quiet as they rode in. It was Christmas Eve and most folks were at home with their families. And the freezing temperatures had likely sent those without families home early. Even the saloons were closed, the darkened windows and closed doors only adding to the gloom the men felt. Pulling up at the livery they dismounted and quickly got Vin up to Nathan’s clinic. JD and Ezra took care of the horses with some help from Yosemite, who had been keeping watch for the men to return, while the others helped to prepare the things the healer needed upstairs. Fresh water, a roaring fire in the woodstove with plenty of extra wood on the landing, and bandages to wrap around Vin’s battered and bruised torso were all prepared without a word being said. This was becoming all too common of a routine for the seven lawmen.

Within an hour, Vin was settled into the bed with the fire in the woodstove blazing and the others gathered quietly around the small room, the silence nearly deafening. Ezra had backed himself in one of the corners and was shuffling his ever-present deck of cards, a nervous habit he was barely even aware of. Buck and JD stood nearby, propped against the wall, their naturally boisterous natures dampened by the gravity of the circumstances. Josiah sat on the opposite side of the bed, his hand unconsciously playing with the cross he wore around his neck and watching as Nathan finished checking Vin over for what seemed like the hundredth time. Chris stood next to the window, separated from the others by a lot more than just the length of the floor, as if physically and emotionally closing himself off from what was happening.

The tension was so thick amongst the men that it was almost visible floating through the air. The heaviness of it enough to knock the breath out of any man as everyone awaited Nathan’s verdict, each too afraid to ask the question. Would Vin be alright?

Years of practice at keeping his face as neutral as possible when dealing with patients and their families had become habit for the dark skinned healer, but as he checked Vin again, he felt his resolve failing. This wasn’t just any patient or just any family; this was his friend and his family. A task that he had never found easy was so much more difficult this time. Their eyes. Nathan felt a shudder run through his large frame. He could always see it in their eyes. The hope that everything would be okay, that he would make them that way. If only he could.

Looking up to glance around the small clinic he braced himself against the task ahead. Swallowing against the sickness he felt within his own stomach he made sure his face showed none of the raging fear and doubt he felt within. The others shifted or stood up straight in anticipation, each knowing by Nathan’s look that he was ready to talk. The room fell still, like a courtroom awaiting the verdict with Nathan, the judge, about to pass sentence.

"I’ve done what I can for him for now." The words seemed so much hollower when said out loud. What had he done? Cleaned up the cuts and scrapes, put a few stitches in the gash on Vin’s head, rewrapped the bruised ribs,… "Like I told ya’s before, he’s pretty banged up and that knock to the head is the worst of it." Through all of his ministrations the tracker had yet to stir since being aroused in the cave at the beginning. "I won’t know anymore until he wakes up." At least that was what he said, but the whole time was thinking, ‘if he wakes up’.

"But he’s gonna be okay, right?" JD’s quiet, shaky voice held a note of fear that they all felt. "I mean, once he wakes up, he’ll be fine?"

"I wish I could tell ya that he will, but fact is, I just don’t know." A nervous glance to his right toward where Chris was standing revealed that the dark figure hadn’t moved; still staring out the window at something only he could see. More than likely the past. Nathan just hoped that the gunslinger was listening because he sure wasn’t in the mood to repeat himself. Looking back toward the others and trying to avoid JD, knowing the look in the youth’s eyes might break his well-constructed composure, he finished. "Like I said, I’ve done what I can. Have to watch out for fever. After being out all night like he was, that’s always a worry. Need ta keep ‘em still and warm, wait for ‘em to wake up, and… pray." The last word was more breathed than spoken, as the very saying of it belied the true gravity of the situation.

Silence once more descended as each man contemplated Nathan’s words, each fully aware of the seriousness of what he had said and the uncertainty caused by what he hadn’t. The feeling of helplessness that their healer had been struggling with for hours was also gaining intensity within this room full of men of action. Give them someone in distress and without thought they would be off to the rescue. Tell them of some outlaws who needed to feel the long arm of the law and the words ‘let’s ride’ would echo through the town. But standing here watching for Vin to keep breathing, wanting him to wake up and cuss at them or gripe about no account gunslingers and sneaky healers, and waiting for someone to tell them that this Christmas wouldn’t be celebrated by the death of a man who was like a brother to each of them, was almost more than they could handle.

A gentle knock at the door startled them all, whether they showed it or not, and Buck, who was the closest, reached to open it. It was late and very few people had been stirring as they road into town. Other than Peter Atkins who had helped stand watch over the town while they had been gone and Yosemite, they had not encountered another soul with the lateness of the hour and the holiday. But the young woman now standing in the doorway was only a slight surprise.

Inez had kept watch on the road out of town off and on all day. When not a single member of the town’s group of peacekeepers had shown up for coffee that morning she had begun to worry. Word in a small town always traveled fast and it wasn’t long before the knowledge spread that the other six had all rode out in the wee morning hours to look for their seventh, Vin. No one was quite sure why, but the pretty young barmaid had been around the seven men long enough to know that they all possessed uncanny instincts when it came to trouble. The tight bond between the group’s leader and his second in command was also very obvious to her. They were like brothers, whether they realized it or not. In fact, the whole group quibbled and fought like a band of siblings, be it with outlaws or each other.

Each of the men was special to her as it had been these very men who had fought to protect her from the likes of Don Paulo when he had shown up in town. Buck had fought for her honor and though the ladies’ man often drove her near insane with his constant flirting and innuendos, it was hard not to like the dashing and truly kindhearted rogue. Then there was Vin, who had made himself her appointed bodyguard, seeing to it that no harm came to her and even protecting her from her own foolishness when she had attempted to kill the man who had become her living nightmare. Ezra had given her a job without really knowing anything about her and made it possible for her to stop running for a while and make her own way. Job opportunities for young women were few and far between.

These men had shown her nothing but kindness and consideration, seeing to her safety time and time again in a job that though very interesting, could also put her in some danger. Whether it was a group of drunk and rowdy cowhands, or a sleazy customer who was determined to be a bit too friendly, it seemed as if one or more of the seven just happened to show up when needed to lend a hand or fist or gun. Whatever it took. They made the town feel safer. They made her feel safer.

Watching them now, from her perch behind the bar, she prayed silently for the five before her and the two absent. She prayed for Vin’s recovery and the reuniting of the men who meant more to this dusty little town than likely they or the town itself fully appreciated. Many a time she had stood silently and watched their interactions. From heated discussions to childish horseplay, from profound happiness to the lowest lows. In here, in this place of fun, relaxation, and for some, sanctuary, she saw it all.

Tonight her own heart was heavy with the burden these men now carried. She hurt for them and she hurt for herself. Being a woman of the world herself it did not escape her observations that to lose Vin now could very well mean the loss of them all. The sad faces staring into the stew she had kept warm just for their return was testament to a stark truth. Hurt one and they all would feel it.

Part of her motherly instincts had urged her to make sure that there would be some hot food for when the men returned. Through the front window of the saloon she had seen them riding in. Feeling her breath catch at the sight of Vin’s riderless horse and the bundle Josiah carried, she had crossed herself as she mouthed a long remembered prayer for the sick. Things had obviously not gone well. Then, without another thought, she had hurried to warm the stew, prepare some broth, and put some fresh bread in to bake before wrapping up warmly and heading to the healer’s door to offer the men some dinner and a short respite.

The sight of the pale form on the bed of the healer’s room had sent her own stomach plummeting and she had cursed silently. ‘Madre de Dios!’

Even now she wondered if her small offering would even help. Though Buck and Josiah had eaten a hefty portion of their own hearty stew, JD and Ezra had eaten only a few bites before beginning to stir about the contents and stare at their still mostly full bowls. And Chris had only managed to stick his spoon in the offering, the utensil never making its way to the grim tight line of his mouth. Glancing at the time she noticed that it would soon be midnight. Christmas Day. While most people would be celebrating friends, family, and the gifts of God, these men sat in sadness and fear of losing just that.

She would watch out for them as best she could, make sure they were fed, encourage them to rest, and pray for God to watch out for the rest of their needs. It was almost amusing to think of these men needing anyone’s help.

They were men of true courage and she did what she could to watch after them, whether they thought they needed it or not. Sometimes it was making sure that they had a continuous supply of whiskey when needed and other times it was some hot food when they might be a bit too preoccupied to look after their own needs, which most often occurred when one or more of them were sick or injured. It touched her heart the way these world hardened men looked after each other while still often denying the fact that they cared. It was the subtle things she noticed.

The way Nathan would constantly fuss at them when he thought they needed to rest or the way he would purposefully replace their whiskey with water or a watered down version when one of them was still on the mend. She had provided coffee and broth enough to know that when one of the others were ailing, the group’s healer got very little rest, making it his personal mission to not only use his skills to heal, but almost giving them his own strength to ensure their recovery. The ex-slave had no doubt not seen as much of the kindness of humanity in his life as he had the abject cruelty. It amazed her still at the depth of Nathan’s compassion in light of what his early days had to have offered as an example. The big man had chosen to use his size, strength, and talent in ways most didn’t understand or even try, but with these men and a growing number of the town’s folk he was something he hadn’t dared even dream possible as a child. He was an equal.

Josiah always seemed to be nearby when one of his brothers was in need of getting something off his chest. Always quick to offer a shoulder or ear for the things that troubled their minds and souls, he was both counselor and sometimes paternal figure. Though his temper was known to at times get the best of him, he also possessed a gentleness that belied his hefty size. The deep rumbling voice could soothe the savage beast, or melt the heart of more than one or two of the town’s available and, secretly, unavailable women. Though verbally claiming that God and he had parted ways, he still provided a spiritual presence within the seven that was unmistakable. A sort of lifeline for the souls of the men he rode and fought with.

Being the youngest of the group could sometimes prove tedious for the town’s young sheriff, but JD offered so much more than he could know, often soothing sour moods with his youthful exuberance alone. Like a refreshing burst of energy he could raise their spirits even if it was by his sometimes comical naiveté. The other six had seen too much in their lives to always hold out much hope for the goodness of humanity, often seeing more negative than positive. The youngest provided their hope for better things and the chance that maybe, just for once, everything didn’t always have to end in misery. JD’s life had not been ideal, but even he knew he still had a great deal to learn. While the others provided the young eastern greenhorn with guidance on his road to better understanding what being a man was all about, JD provided them with optimism.

Buck was, well… Buck. He had a love of life that could lift the others when the darkness of the world was trying its best to drag them down. And the big heart he sported drew others to him like bears to honey. He too was fiercely protective of those he saw as his, defending them with an intensity that came from the same heart that sought to provide every female within eyesight with a smile and a word of endearment. He could often be found railing JD about his actions or trying to provide unwarranted advice on anything from gun handling to how to woo the gentler sex. A tall tale was never more than a breath away. It was quite entertaining and, as Inez had observed, distracting, which at times was the ladies’ man’s true intention. Even Buck could be subtle with his help. Sometimes.

Ezra would likely be the last to admit he gave anything to the others. Spending so much energy trying to remain detached, Inez figured he didn’t recognize how much the others depended on him; not only for his cunning ways, but for the way he came through when the chips were down. She had seen it often enough when one of the others were injured, Ezra had stepped in to help take up the slack, though he would deny any such thing and the subtlety of his efforts caused his actions to often go unnoticed by the others. There had even been at least one occasion when certain medical supplies had been in desperate need and they had miraculously been paid for and sent within just a few days, anonymously, of course. Ezra was very careful that nothing tarnished his carefully maintained reputation as a miser.

Even though most people saw Chris Larabee as a cold and dangerous man, Inez had seen a different side to the notorious gunslinger. Behind the pain of a past that would have crippled even the strongest of men and into the heart of what made the man so easy for the other six to follow. He gave them direction even when they bucked against it and used a firm hand to guide them through the difficult times. His very presence demanded respect and attention and the others seemed to complement it, drawing it into one mighty force. But let one of his men be threatened or in danger and there was hell to pay. For all intents and purposes they were his men, his responsibility, and what made his life worth living. Oh, he tried to hide his concern, often growling when one of the others put himself in harm’s way or wasn’t listening to Nathan’s advice. But Inez knew that the grouchier he got, the more he cared.

Then, of course, there was the seventh man. Vin Tanner was a man of many facets. Just when Inez thought she had him pegged he would go and surprise her. And she was pretty sure the others felt much the same way. A fierce fighter and always ready to defend the weak and oppressed, he also possessed a softer, shyer side that could make any girl swoon. She had seen him risk his life many times for the other men he fought with and had little doubt that he would lay down his own life in a minute to save any one of them. Taking most of the patrols and always willing to lend a hand to anyone who needed it, he could also be ruthless and cunning when necessary. He seemed to be concerned with the welfare of everyone except himself. How many times had she been witness to the tracker’s protective measures? From prowling the rooftops to watch all of their backs, to scouting the perimeter to make sure no one snuck up on them. Precious to him were these men who had accepted him into their ranks and provided a place of security that, from the haunted look she had seen too often in his soulful blue eyes, was something that had before been elusive to him.

However, the same strengths that drew them together could also prove volatile. It was a known fact that they certainly had their differences. More than once the raised voices and cool threats between them had been enough to send more than a few patrons scurrying for cover as one or more squared off against another. Inez had once heard the saying that you only hurt the ones you love. Well, there were times when she feared these seven men might just love each other straight into an early grave.

The seven were so much more than a group of men who had banded together in the protection of a small, dusty town. They were seven friends, seven brothers. A family built upon trust and respect, with bonds much stronger than any blood ties Inez had ever been privileged to witness.

As the minutes passed and the holy day approached, she continued to pray that its arrival would bring with it a new miracle for these men and this town.

Nathan sat at his desk, his back to his patient, but his mind was consumed by the current state of Vin’s declining health. Staring down at the book that had lost his attention to the gut twisting fear he had tried to keep at bay while in the presence of the others, he couldn’t suppress a sigh. So grateful for Inez and her intervention, he had thanked God when she had shown up on the clinic doorstep bearing the broth, a single serving of stew, and the insistent invitation that the others come to the saloon for something hot to eat. He had practically thrown the others out. Certainly he had been concerned for the health and well being of the other five men, but he had also needed some time away from their constant presence. Now, alone with his thoughts and weary beyond the physical sense, he could no longer keep the worries hidden. The dark lines on his face and the scowl he now wore gave testament to the fatalistic views that now overwhelmed him and he could no longer fight the telltale moisture that seeped from the corners of his eyes.

This was a ritual that had become all too routine since meeting up with the six men he held in such high regard. And it was the one part he could definitely do without. Sitting for hours praying for the best while thinking the worst could take its toll on a man. The hardest part of growing to care for others was when the threat of losing them became reality. Many a sleepless night he had spent watching over one or the other of them. Even more hours were spent going over his slowly growing collection of medical text, hoping to chance upon the new procedure or discovery that would allow him to once again help a sick or injured brother cheat death.

But what would happen when he couldn’t? Why did everyone always expect miracles out of him? He wasn’t God! Swallowing the quick wave of anger, the healer stood up, straightening his tired and aching body, his knee joints popping slightly as he did. He wasn’t angry at them for looking to him for answers. He was angry because he didn’t always have them.

His mind traveled back momentarily to a week when all of his efforts had seemed in vain. One of the local ladies had died in childbirth, the child itself not surviving. And as if that hadn’t been hard enough, another soul had succumbed to a terrible cold and fever. As his mind had questioned his own abilities and reasoning for the path he had chosen to follow in life, the preacher had offered some words of wisdom.

"No, brother, you’re not God. But you are an instrument of the Lord and like most tools; their effectiveness is in the hands of their master. The Lord uses you to administer to the sick and injured with a remarkable compassion that is lacking in this day and time. Do not discount your value and purpose due to the natural order of life. You can not save them all, my friend, and are not meant to."

Those same words that had offered much needed comfort and solace were, at this very moment, haunting. What if this time he couldn’t save Vin? Or wasn’t meant to? The thought caused the stew he had forced himself to consume to sour in his stomach. It was going to be another long and grueling night.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of utensils hitting bowls and mugs being set down on the table from time to time. Other than a few mumbles of gratitude to the hostess for the food, very little had been said since the five men had arrived in the saloon and sat down at their usual table in the far back corner. A few fleeting glances at the empty chair that sat beside their leader was all of a reminder they needed of the day’s events. It had been nearly an hour since the kind barmaid had knocked on the clinic door with a tray of stew for one and some broth. Inez had insisted that the others come on over to the saloon where she had hot stew and fresh bread fixed up especially for them.

Nathan had insisted that they all needed the food and the rest after the long day they had all had. Assuring them that he would let them know if anything changed, he ushered them out of the tiny clinic, grumbling that they all needed to rest and someone could relieve him come morning. Though all of them had been reluctant to leave, they also needed the respite and the appetizing aroma of the stew made more than a couple of stomachs growl in reminder of the long hard day of riding.

Chris had not seemed to even hear the offer Inez had made. Nathan had told the others to go on, wanting to take another look at the knot on the side of the man’s head. It probably wasn’t serious, but Chris hadn’t quite been himself for most of the day and it was better to err on the side of caution.

There had been no grumbling or protest from the gunslinger, whose brooding demeanor had only added to the darkness that seemed to surround the man like an aura. And once done checking the wound and issuing his instructions for food and rest, Nathan had stood perplexed as Chris had stood, mumbled his thanks, pulled on his black duster, and walked out of the clinic without so much as a glance at the injured man in the bed.

Buck hadn’t even been sure Chris would show at the saloon, but the man had stalked into the place without hesitation and sat down in his usual chair. It had been unnerving for them all. Not only had he not said a word, he hadn’t even seemed to notice the empty chair to his right that was so painfully obvious to everyone else.

Now each man sat lost in his own thoughts, all of them centered on the injured man they had been reluctant to leave. Each afraid it might be for the last time. But just as hesitant to stay, not ready to fully give in to that same concern.

JD had been trying his best to keep an eye on Buck. With Vin’s return to the living he had hoped the burden that weighed so heavily on his best friend would ease, but from the distraught look still hovering in the big man’s deep blue eyes, it was obvious that it hadn’t. Wracking his brain since his friend’s heartfelt confession he still had yet to think of what he should do. JD knew all too well about guilt and how it was up to each individual to work their way through the tumultuous emotions and come to terms with the consequences. Annie’s accidental shooting from months ago had been a very maturing incident and one he was likely to draw upon as a major turning point in his life. No matter how good one’s intentions, things did not always have an agreeable outcome. He knew that Buck had seen much more of life than he had, but with a big heart like Buck possessed, JD also knew the pain would be equally strong. With a tired glance up at his best friend he said a silent prayer once again for Vin’s recovery, knowing that more than one life hung in the balance.

Doing his best to keep his own emotions in check, Buck stared down at his nearly empty bowl. He had been hungry and yet unsure if he could eat with the emotions churning inside him, but the enticing aroma of the stew had drawn his rumbling stomach to the forefront. Now, as his mind kept reliving the ride back to town, the very same meal sat like a rock within him. The feel of the precious bundle that he had borne on part of the ride back was still weighing on him. The feel of the still form resting within his grasp still made his arms ache from much more than the strain. The ticking of the clock that hung over the bar seemed to roar in his ears as each passing minute was a grim reminder of the situation in which his own mind magnified the culpability of his role. His peripheral vision could make out Chris’ hunched form over the gunslinger’s still full bowl of stew. Feeling his guilt double he thought, ‘might as well have stabbed Chris in the gut, would’ve had the same effect.’

Ezra sat stoically, unable to face the prospect of losing the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. To admit that he cared would mean to open himself up to the pain of loss that was sure to come. It always did. He had heard someone say once that if you want something bad enough you have to work for it. Well, he abhorred anything that had to do with manual labor, so he supposed that was why those things that were important to him always seemed to be taken away. But he would have done anything, even the lowliest of menial jobs, if he thought it would keep Vin with them. Being able to read others was a necessity, a gift. But on this holiest night of the year it was the gambler’s curse, for he had seen the look of despair and fear in the eyes and actions of each of his fellow peacekeepers and it only served to intensify his own. This newfound family was falling apart right in front of his eyes. Not one to get involved deeply with the Christmas holiday he suddenly discovered he had never longed for a gift like he did at that moment, but the gift he sought was the life of his friend.

Shepherd that he was, Josiah worried over his entire flock. He knew that each of the seven was weighed down with his own burdens at a time that should have been filled with joy and celebration. Should Vin die he wasn’t sure he had enough faith to make it himself, let alone see the others through and it was these doubts that plagued him all the way back to town. Nathan was taking Vin’s deteriorating condition personally. JD seemed distracted by something and the preacher could only assume he knew something about what was bothering Buck. If the ladies’ man’s head hung any lower they would be fishing his face out of his bowl of stew. Ezra was trying to hide his unease, which he should have known by now was pointless among his friends. And Chris, well, that was a given.

Chris was trying hard not to feel anything. God, he wanted a drink so bad he could smell and taste it in the air. But he wasn’t about to allow himself the luxury. Not now. For some reason he felt ashamed of the time he had spent trying to forget by racing his way to the bottom of whiskey bottle after whiskey bottle. How could he dare wish to forget the very people who had made his life worthwhile? And yet, wasn’t that the very thing he was trying to do now. Forget. Push the feelings he had for Vin and his new family into the back recesses of his mind so he could function. But the more he tried to forget the present the more the past came back to him. Memories of Adam decorating the tree and walks along the river with Sarah. Where had that one come from? He hadn’t thought of that in so long. Lazy summer days walking, talking, skinny dipping… A cold shiver ran down his spine. A dream? A river? Sarah?

Josiah’s deep baritone voice broke his reverie, along with everyone else’s. The big preacher could no longer stand the deep silence or hung heads. He owed it to them to at least distract them for a moment. "Inez, did the town go ahead with the pageant this evening? I know the children were so looking forward to it."

Inez realized immediately Josiah’s intentions and was quick to do her part to assist. "Sí, it was muy bueno." She bit her tongue at the next words she had been about to say, knowing they would have not helped. She had been about to mention the special prayer they had held for all of the seven’s safe return. Instead she changed directions, feeling it safe to elaborate on the pageant itself.

"The children had such a good time, even if a few didn’t quite remember their lines. Little Silas Jenkins tried to drink the myrrh and then the Carter boys stole the baby Jesus out of the manger." She couldn’t help but smile at the antics of the town’s children. It had been a welcome distraction for everyone in light of the tension from the abrupt departure of the seven peacekeepers. "And that manger you made, muy hermoso. I’ve never seen anything…"

Seeing Josiah’s head drop at her last words, she stopped abruptly, wondering what she had said wrong. Everyone else looked up, too.

"Vin made it."

The quietly spoken admission flooded the room like a cold draft of icy wind. Not wanting the silence to again take over, the preacher swallowed hard and raised his head to face his friends’ curious gazes.

"I had been telling him about the pageant and…" A slow grin crossed Josiah’s face as his eyes looked off at the far wall, remembering the scene outside the church that cool afternoon. "He got that curious look on his face, you know, when he’s not sure about saying anything or not. Then he seemed to make up his mind and just said," he related, mimicking the tracker’s speech some. "‘Reckon I could help ya out. I picked up some woodworking skills from this feller I used to help out for extra money. Nothin’ fancy mind ya, but iffen ya want I could build that manger thing ya’s talkin’ about.’" Josiah just shook his graying head in wonder. "Probably one of the longest string of words I’ve heard out of him."

"Guess that’s what he wanted all of that stuff for." JD’s voice now drew the others’ attention and he suddenly felt self-conscious. "I mean, I saw him putting some lumber and stuff in a wagon before he headed out of town last week. Thought maybe he was headed to Nettie’s and was just gonna fix some things around her place."

Ezra couldn’t help adding what little he knew, as if the pieces of a mysterious puzzle were suddenly fitting together. "I myself observed Mr. Tanner in the hardware store getting nails and some hinges last week. I deduced the same conclusion, though I saw him use his own capital for the acquisition."

"I thought that boy was gonna get him a new pair of gloves last week. His other ones done fell plumb apart on ‘em and the dang fool was supposed to be gettin’ new ones after payday." Buck’s voice held a touch of anger. So that was why Vin hadn’t been wearing gloves when they had found him.

"I do believe I also recall said ‘dang fool’ purchasing some salve for his horse." Ezra added quietly.

"Our brother does love that horse, even when he’s threatening to shoot the animal."

They all nodded slowly, except Chris, who listened silently, having yet to even look up.

"Spending his money on that horse, some nails, hinges, and lumber…" Buck started, but Josiah’s quiet utterance stopped him mid sentence.

"He didn’t buy the lumber." Questioning looks moved him to share the secret generosity that he had discovered. "Vin got it from one of the homesteaders."

"Why, pray tell, would he be receiving such ‘offerings’ from the homesteaders?" Ezra couldn’t quite piece together where this was leading. Just when he thought the mystery had been solved it twisted to once again cause him to wonder.

"Probably because Vin provided them, as well as a number of others, with their Christmas dinners."

As the conversation progressed more about Vin’s behavior over the past week, things began to make more sense. Josiah spoke of Vin’s time spent with the children, helping them prepare gifts and find decorations. The hunting he had done for the families in need. The man who they all suspected had so little experience with Christmas had somehow felt the spirit of it. Then again, Vin Tanner wasn’t a man who gave of himself just one time a year. It was just his nature to give unto others and was a big part of what made Vin the man he was.

Having lived a less than prosperous life maybe Vin had a greater understanding of what it was like to do without things you wanted or even needed. Or maybe he just wanted to make sure others had an easier life than he himself had lived. His mother may have only spent a few years with her son, but somehow they suspected she had made a profound and enduring impact on him that was a part of what had allowed him to keep a heart of kindness toward a world that had seemed determined to show the young tracker its worst.

But even as Vin’s activities over the last week came to light, something was still gnawing at the back of Ezra’s mind. A stickler for details he knew there was still something he was missing and it was driving him to distraction. Going over the new information he noticed a discrepancy. Hinges? There had been no need for hinges on the manger. Of course, the tracker may have actually used those to fix something at Nettie’s or one of the other people he had been known to help on occasion.

His musings, along with the quiet discussion among the others, was interrupted by the sound of someone coming through the batwing doors of the saloon. Instinctively, each of the peacekeeper’s hands brushed their guns as they looked up expectantly, only to relax as they recognized one of the local merchants coming through the door, within his grasp a small box and what looked curiously like the bridle that Vin had been working on for over a month.

Mr. Cyrus Mullins was a man of medium stature and graying dark hair. Having been in the town since its early beginnings he had at first been wary of the new law the judge had appointed to protect them, but after a time had come to not only appreciate their presence, but respect the seven men as valued members of the tiny community.

Mullins ran the feed and seed shop down the street and had been one of the benefactors of Vin Tanner’s kindness, having received a large turkey to use for his family’s Christmas feast. His wife had been sick for the past month and was just now getting back to full strength. Having spent a great deal of time looking after her and the three children that graced his life, he had found little time for the small things that needed taking care of. Not only had Vin provided him and his family with the turkey, but he had also done some minor repairs around the outside of the shop that had been neglected during his wife’s illness.

When the young man had come to him with his quiet request Cyrus had been more than eager to assist him with the task, wanting to do something to repay the peacekeeper’s goodwill. Now standing before the solemn faces in front of him, and with the knowledge he had gained from Yosemite of what had transpired, he couldn’t help the sudden apprehension that had his stomach in knots.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing the bile that was churning, he stepped forward, the last two items he needed to deliver held securely in his shaky grip. He had made a promise and if it was the last thing he did he would honor it. For himself and for the kindhearted young man who had asked it of him and who now fought desperately for his own life. He just hoped, from the current position of each of the six men’s hands that this wasn’t indeed his last act.

"I brought…" He felt his voice break with nervous energy and cleared it before trying again. "I had some deliveries to make this evening and these are the last two." It took every ounce of nerve he still bore in his body to make his leaden feet move forward to place the two items on the table before their designated recipients. Knowing that an explanation was due he wracked his brain on what to say. It would have been easier if he had stuck to the plan and just left the items outside each man’s door, but with all that had taken place something had led him to alter his strategy. In and out. It would have been so much easier. Yet these men needed to know they had been thought of and, more importantly, by whom.

"I made a promise to Mr. Tanner to deliver these presents late this evening and these are the last ones. The others were larger." Swallowing hard he addressed each man. "Mr. Sanchez, there is a nice little bookshelf I put for you just inside the church." Knowing the next young man had earned his status among these men he addressed him with the respect he had earned. "Sheriff, there’s a tack box for you that I set just inside your horse’s stall. I left Mr. Jackson’s cabinet and pouches at the base of the stairs. Didn’t want to disturb him right now." Cyrus ducked his head, unsure if he should have even mentioned that bit. "Miss Recillos, there’s a nice flower box for you out back. I left Mary’s outside her door. And, I was told to get JD to deliver the one for Miz Wells. It’s at my store when you’re ready for it. These last two were smaller so I just decided to bring them in here."

It was somewhat disconcerting to realize that no one, save Inez and Josiah, were even looking at him and he wondered if he were wasting his breath. Buck and JD’s eyes were both riveted on the familiar bridle on the table, while Ezra was slowly fingering the carved wood of the box before him. The group’s leader had yet to look up at all, let alone move and it suddenly struck the merchant that he had been given nothing to deliver to the notorious gunslinger. Most of the townsfolk were aware of the easy friendship that had developed between the leader and his second in command. So why hadn’t the tracker given him something for the man? ‘Maybe Vin was going to deliver it himself,’ Cyrus mused.

Neither he nor the other men knew that Vin’s present to Chris had already been delivered and received. Nor did they have any idea that the very thought of the younger man’s hard work to fix up things around Chris’s place was now ripping another hole in the gunslinger’s already riddled gut.

"That’s Vin’s." Somehow JD’s statement of the obvious awoke them all from the trance of unspoken misery they were sharing. They had each had occasion to see the tracker working on the bridle. Picking up some leather strips here and a buckle there as the weeks passed.

Ezra now knew what the hinges had been for. Nathan’s cabinet, JD’s tack box… and his box.

‘No, not just a box,’ he thought as his fingers ran deftly across the top. The crude outline of five playing cards depicting a full house had been meticulously carved into the soft wood. It was an intricately decorated treasure chest. The treasure wouldn’t be what was held inside, but the hard work and friendship that its very presence spoke of to his very heart. He had received gifts before, but never had any of them touched him to his core as this simple little offering. His carefully maintained composure was indeed fighting to hold under the onslaught of emotions now coursing through him.

Buck heard JD’s statement but couldn’t bring himself to look away from what lay before him. It was obvious who it had belonged to, but now… Carefully reaching out toward the gift he turned it over, his hand jerking back slightly as if it had been burned as he noticed the initials burned into the leather. His initials. The ladies man’s voice shook with emotion. "I mentioned something about mine bein’ pretty worn just the other week. Didn’t think anything about it." Trying to swallow past the lump in his throat he coughed harshly before regaining control.

Inez quickly set a glass of water down in front of him and he managed a very weak smile of thanks to her, not even noticing the light touch of her hand on his back.

"It seems Brother Vin decided to celebrate this Christmas after all." Josiah had spoken with Vin some about the Christmas traditions and their meanings, but had considered it idle curiosity. He had hoped in the back of his mind that they could all spend the holiday together, but knew it was not likely to be. With Chris’ demons and Vin’s uneasiness it was still too great a hurdle to overcome. Somehow Vin had decided to mix the old with the new by leaving gifts behind even though he would be elsewhere.

"He… He…" JD couldn’t get it out. Somehow Vin had made them all gifts. He loved Christmas and everything about it, but knew Vin had expressed his lack of celebrating the holiday. So why had he gone to this much trouble? The obvious answer was humbling. Vin had been told by so many that Christmas was a time for family. Vin had found his family and thus made something for each of them. JD felt himself swell with bittersweet pride to be included.

Cyrus still stood in front of the table, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to stay. He had his own family to get home to and it was late. As was his habit when the thought of the time came up, he slipped out his pocket watch and glanced down. It was five minutes after midnight. It was now Christmas Day.

A thought struck him and it was out of his mouth before he could rethink it. "You gentleman are more than welcome to join my family for Christmas Dinner today. There’s more than enough food. That turkey Mr. Tanner brought us is big enough for…" He stopped, realizing the hurt these men must be feeling at the moment and how mentioning their friend’s name might add to it. "Well… Just come on by if you feel like it."

Cyrus quickly turned and left before he could add any more to their misery. He had thought that the gifts might help, but from the looks he had seen on the peacekeepers’ faces he wasn’t sure it had been such a good idea.

In his wake he left a room filled with deathly quiet as each inhabitant was once again lost among thoughts of the man who continued to surprise them.

The sudden scraping sound of chair legs echoed throughout the room and each man flinched as the same chair crashed backwards to the floor. The dark gunslinger was up and headed for the back door before anyone realized what had happened, his swift movements just a dark blur.

Three stunned faces looked to the one man amongst them who might be able to explain the sudden departure. The look on Buck’s face proved that he was just as clueless as the rest of them. And even if he had some suspicions, which he did, he was not about to share them at the moment.

Chris Larabee felt as if his insides were about to explode. He had sat there for as long as he could, trying not to listen, trying not to hear, as they spoke of Vin. Every word, every bit of information, the torn gloves, the salve for Peso’s legs, the food the tracker had hunted for some of the local families, every tidbit was like a knife slowly driving its way directly into his heart. They didn’t need to tell him what Vin was like. He knew, better than most. The man could be starving and would give up his last piece of bread to someone else he thought needed it. There were the times he had watched Vin work beyond exhaustion to ensure their safety and the times he had seen the young man worn down from patrols and watches and whatever else he had found to do, only to turn around and head out to Nettie’s to make sure there wasn’t something she needed fixed.

Then Mullins had arrived with the presents. That had been the last straw. Since when did Vin even celebrate Christmas? Hadn’t he told Chris how he spent most holidays out in the open wilderness on his own and away from the fuss? So why was this year different?

Stupid question. Chris knew exactly what was different for the tracker. The same thing that had been different for him. For the first time in a long time there were other people who mattered. Others to share the holiday with. But unlike Chris, who had sought to get himself as far away from it as possible, Vin had somehow found a balance. Had wanted to embrace some of the things he had been missing for so long, even longer than Chris had. Hell, he wasn’t sure Vin had ever celebrated Christmas or at least any he could remember.

All the thoughts swirling in his head had only intensified his headache. Feeling his chest tighten and his control about to break he stood up abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. The large room had suddenly felt more like a closet and he had to get out.

Without so much as a word to any of the others, and not daring to lift his head lest his eyes betray him, he made his way quickly toward the back of the saloon. Stepping outside, the bitter cold nearly stripped the air from his lungs and he stopped to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. More clouds had rolled in and the sky had the look of snow. Somehow that made him even angrier. It seemed stupid to be angry at the weather because it had been the snow and cold that had nearly taken away his best friend. Might still. The gunslinger’s stomach soured even more as that thought sent another wave of panic rushing through him. Stumbling toward the outhouse, what little amount of water he had consumed made an abrupt reappearance until dry heaves wracked his taut frame.

Finally getting his rebellious stomach under control he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sat heavily onto the freezing wooden seat, the darkness within the tiny structure mirroring the darkness he felt within his soul. Try as he might he couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the events of the day like a book, he kept flipping through each step of the search, each pain filled moment. The dreams that had been so vivid and real at the time had now faded, leaving behind only strange mixed feelings. They had been important, that much he knew and somehow he felt they reminded him of Sarah. But not in the way they had before, when his dreams of his lost family had left him only feeling abandoned. With the mere thought of the dreams came a sense of peace he couldn’t quite explain and yet an even deeper sense of fear for Vin.

The sight of the tracker’s pale, lifeless body popped into his head and his chest seemed to tighten, his breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. Sitting in the confines of the outhouse, away from the prying eyes and needs of the world around him, he allowed himself to feel all of the emotions he had done his best to keep bottled up for over a week.

‘Help!’ His mind cried out. He couldn’t stand it. His faith in a God who had allowed his wife and son to be so brutally taken wasn’t something he was ready to reconcile. Instead, he spoke to someone he hadn’t spoken to in over three years.

"Sarah. Oh God, Sarah. I miss you so bad." Head bowed and shoulders nearly collapsing in upon themselves, the tears flowed freely from Chris’ eyes. "I’m so sorry, sweet woman. I should have been there for you. For Adam. I let you down. You depended on me to protect you, look after you… I just don’t understand. All my fault. Look at what happens to those I care for. You and Adam. And,…"

"I can’t lose him, too." The pain in his chest only intensified as he gave in to the fears he had tried to deny. "He means a lot to me. I don’t know where I’d be without him. Dead, probably. Used to think that was where I wanted to be, but he showed me that that wasn’t true. He showed me…" Chris stopped, not wanting to say it, but the words seemed to form in his head without his permission.

The words had been in his head, but he didn’t feel like they had been his alone. And suddenly, he didn’t feel so alone either.

"Please help me." Chris wasn’t sure who he was directing the last plea to, but it was all he could think about. "Please don’t let him die."

`

Dark clad shoulders shook with grief, both old and new, as the gunslinger gave in to the anguish, gut-wrenching sobs resounding within the small enclosure as he cried his heart out.

Outside the back of the saloon another heart was breaking. Buck Wilmington had decided to seek out his oldest friend. The man had, after all, been injured earlier and he just needed to make sure that everything was alright. Or at least halfway okay. He wasn’t sure if anything would be alright again. For a time, the heavy burden he had carried for the sake of a friend, whose world had been shattered one dark night, had been lightened. And it had been with the help of one scruffy Texan that things had seemed to be getting back on track, but now… His worst fear of Chris returning to the hell he had been living in before was becoming all too much a possibility.

Feeling as totally helpless as the others when it came to Vin right now, he figured the least he could do was once again look after Chris. But as he had come out of the back door of the saloon into the cold dark night, the sound that greeted him chilled his blood. He had never heard Chris like this. The pain and emotion in the gunslinger’s voice caused Buck to nearly stagger with the sheer grief he could feel radiating from it. Realizing that the disembodied voice was coming from the outhouse he stopped, knowing that Chris had not intended on having an audience. Hearing his old friend calling to his dead wife brought tears to his own eyes and it was all he could do to stifle a sob as he put his hand over his mouth.

He should have turned around and went back inside, but he couldn’t. His feet felt frozen to the ground and at the same time his knees felt too weak to carry him. The softhearted ladies man wasn’t sure he would have any heart left when all was said and done.

"Please help me." Buck froze, wondering for a moment if Chris might be talking to him, but the next words assured him to the negative. "Please don’t let him die."

And as if his heart hadn’t already been torn into shreds, the next sound ripped it completely from his chest. Not in all of the years that he had known Chris Larabee, not in the war when the atrocities and loss of life had affected them both, not when the blond had received dire news from home, and not even when the man had knelt at the graveside of the two people who had given him a life of pure joy, at none of these times had Buck been witness to what he was at this moment. Oh, he had seen the man with silent tears in his eyes, seen the anguish so deep and evident in the moist green eyes, but never had he heard the man sobbing like his very soul was being rent from his body. And he wished to God that he never had. Getting his legs back in control he ran away for the second time that day, knowing full well that no matter where he went that sound would follow him.

Chris staggered out of the outhouse, his shirt dotted with moisture from his emotional release. He couldn’t believe he had done that and yet, strangely, he felt better for it. Tears that had been held at bay for years had finally been freed, allowing him to do a small bit of what he had denied himself as a sort of punishment. He had finally allowed himself to grieve for what had been lost to him. Though he knew it wouldn’t put an end to the sorrow or relieve his guilty conscience, it did almost seem to free up some space within him. Space that could now be used for other things. Things like what had been the catalyst behind the tears he had shed. Vin and his current state.

Breathing deeply of the cold, cutting winter air, he tried to clear his head. He couldn’t give up on Vin, because Vin would never give up on him. He knew that with certainty. But still, he felt weak and unsure. He pulled his long black duster tighter around himself as he turned to head back toward Nathan’s, when something out of the corner of his eye caused him to turn abruptly. It was almost as if someone had been standing there, but there was no one. That had happened a lot over the last couple of days. The strange wisps of smoke when there had been no fire, the feeling that someone was near him when he was obviously alone, and Peso looking for all intents and purposes like someone had tied him there when the horse’s own tracks were the only ones visible. He had seen that little bit but said nothing.

A chill ran down his spine and he shivered reflexively. Again, something else caught his eye and he looked up at the sky to see a bright star almost winking at him.

Christmas. It was Christmas Day.

Ducking his head, an old memory surfaced with great clarity. Chris remembered always taking Adam out on Christmas Eve to look for the brightest star in the sky and then they would go back inside to the fire where Sarah would read the Christmas story and tell of Jesus’s birth as she read from the Bible. The memory stirred something within his heart and he looked back up to see only clouds. The star was gone or maybe he had imagined it. The outline of the back of the church near the end of the street came into view just below where the star had supposedly been. Strange. Well, at this point nothing should have surprised him.

Without his permission his feet seemed to propel him of their own accord and the next thing he knew he was standing at the back steps of the holy sanctuary, where his iron will regained control and he hesitated. He had basically turned his back on God and faith in anything when he had lost his family. Slowly he had felt it returning over the past few months as he stayed in this town, with these men, and with Vin. Just being around the younger man had given him reason to believe in something again, though he still wasn’t sure what that something was. He had given up on God, but something was telling him that just like his friends, God hadn’t given up on him.

Heavy steps took him into the back door of the church and directly to the front altar that was dimly lit by a few candles. He wondered about that momentarily, but quickly dismissed his suspicions. It was, after all, Christmas and Josiah had probably been by already. Moving to stand just in front of the pulpit, he found himself directly in front of the manger where the Christmas pageant had been held, the smell of hay still fresh in the air. His mind conjured up the gentle hum of Christmas carols he remembered hearing in years gone by. While the town had continued with the celebrations, none of the peacekeepers had really thought much about the holiday since riding out of town in search of Vin.

Vin. The gunslinger’s eyes were riveted upon the manager itself, knowing now that the tracker had made it himself, along with quite a few other things, it seemed. Vin had been busy. "No wonder I haven’t seen much of him lately. Dam… uh…" Remembering where he was he quickly amended his language. "Durn fool was probably up every night, finishing all of his little presents." Chris just shook his head in wonder as his mood darkened a bit.

Reaching out with a barely steady hand he caressed the crafted object, as if it alone would give him the answers he sought.

The rough wood was solid, the manger obviously built with care, by someone who cared. Vin cared. Most saw him as mysterious and aloof, but that was how the younger man wanted it. Scarred internally by too many rejections and too much loss Chris knew the tracker had learned early the value of keeping people at a distance. Until now. Just like Chris, Vin had opened himself up more than he likely ever had before. To the town, the other men. But why? What had been different? Trust. Vin trusted them; he trusted Chris and he had from the start.

Chris swallowed hard at that. It was a momentous honor that he had never really considered before. From a man who had been taught the hard lesson to trust no one, an instant trust had been granted to one man, Chris Larabee. And how had the gunslinger repaid him? By trying his best to deny he gave a damn. Shame washed through him at his own callousness. Vin deserved better.

The last thought echoed through his head, causing his heart to beat faster. It was just like something Sarah would have said to him. In fact she would have kicked his backside for the way he had been acting. How many times had she told him how important friends and family were? Here, in front of God, he couldn’t deny the truth that Vin was amongst those. But not just as a friend. He was family. He was Chris’s brother, bonded by something greater than blood. These two men were bonded by the heart.

‘You do whatever it takes for family.’ His own father had told him that when he was just a boy.

But what could he do for Vin now? Nathan himself could do no more. He had said so. It was out of his hands. It was up to Vin. The healer’s last words sprung to mind. ‘Wait for ‘em to wake up, and… pray.’

His eyes traveled to the large wooden cross that Josiah had made and put up on the wall behind the pulpit. There was something he could do. Something that, on today of all days, he should have been reminded of before. Little words had been sent up by his mind, but not by his heart. He hadn’t really put his heart into much of anything in a long time.

"Guess I know what needs to be done, just been too afraid the answer would be no, I guess. It’s been awhile. Guess I’m a bit out of practice and not sure why you would even listen to me. Always thought Sarah had enough faith for the both of us."

The lump that had been growing within his throat constricted, causing his voice to falter and his eyes pooled with moisture. Dropping to his knees, he turned his eyes to the ceiling but looked beyond it with his heart. Then he did something he hadn’t really done in over three years. He prayed.

7*7*7*7*7*7*7

Buck was beginning to believe his penance was going to be more than he could stand. After witnessing the sound of his oldest friend’s heart breaking he had sought refuge in the only place he thought he would be safe. He needed to get his head together. Think about what he was going to do if Vin didn’t make it or even if he did. Leaving was a big possibility, but that thought only caused him more pain. He hadn’t been one to settle down in any one place for very long, in fact none of the seven had been, until now. The thought of leaving all of it behind, his new friends, his old, the sense of family that he had come to value, it all seemed so depressing. His intentions had been noble, or at least mostly.

All he had really wanted was to protect his oldest friend’s need for solitude and make sure others respected the gunslinger’s grief. Okay, maybe it had seemed more like wallowing than grieving, but didn’t he have a right? Still feeling his own guilt for Sarah and Adam’s deaths almost as keenly as Chris himself, Buck had done the only thing he thought he could do, protect the one piece of them he had left. Had that been so wrong? Maybe a few years back or even a year ago, it might not have been, but the ladies’ man was still coming to terms with the fact that this wasn’t then and things were different now. Chris wasn’t the same man he had been before their deaths, but he also wasn’t the same man he had been just a year ago. And a big part of the reason why was Vin Tanner.

Somehow Vin had found the key to unlocking the qualities in Chris that made him seem more human and more able to live among other people. Small glimpses of the man Buck had known before were returning, slowly but surely. And he was thankful for the opportunity to get to know his old friend all over again. Different in many ways, but still a damn fine man to have in your corner. Even the wicked sense of humor was resurfacing. It was good to have Chris back.

What if all of that progress had been for nothing? What if another Buck Wilmington mistake… Another time when he spoke before really thinking…

His thoughts were interrupted by the dark angel that strode into his line of sight. Buck had only thought he would be safe here. Chris Larabee had just entered the church from the door at the side of the altar. With his heart hammering in his chest and his tongue desperately seeking moisture in his suddenly dry mouth, Buck froze, almost afraid to breathe lest his presence on the back pew be detected. Any movement would alert Chris to his presence and he didn’t want that. He just wasn’t ready to face the wrath he felt he deserved. So instead he sat, too afraid to leave and just as afraid of what would happen if he stayed.

Maybe if he shut his eyes tight he could believe he was somewhere else, anywhere else. ‘Please, just don’t let him start crying again.’ Lord, Buck didn’t think he would ever get that sound out of his head. It struck him as odd that right after the death of Sarah and Adam, the big man would have been thankful to hear such an outpouring from his old friend. Back then was when the hardening had begun. At first Buck had wondered at the stone cold mask that had replaced the face of the friend he had known before. Wondered why Chris hadn’t cried when he himself had wept like a baby. But as the days passed and the new Larabee emerged he figured that all of the fiery hate, guilt, and anger the dark clad man carried with him like a shroud must have burned every bit of moisture from his body, making it impossible for the man to cry.

Buck’s body was beginning to ache from the slumped and rigid position he didn’t dare move from, when he heard Chris speaking. It was more like mumbling under his breath to start with, but as Buck dared to move his head up just enough to see what was happening, he instantly regretted it as he saw the blond reach out with a less than steady hand to touch the manger. It was the gentle side of Larabee that he hadn’t seen in a long time. The old friend he had watched calm a skittish colt with his soft voice and light touches. The same man he had watched smile as he danced with the beautiful woman who would later agree to be his wife, who had held his newborn son in his arms with the light glistening in his darkened green eyes from unshed tears, and who had rocked the same boy within his arms when the child had awakened from a nightmare. Just the way Chris seemed to caress the wooden creation was a total contradiction to his dark and dangerous gunslinger reputation.

Buck felt like he was trespassing on a sacred moment, just like when he had overheard Chris crying. He was certain the man was unaware of his presence and would be none too happy to have such moments witnessed. But what could he do? There was no chance of him getting out undetected, so still he sat, his own guilt and anguish only intensifying as he listened and watched as Chris went to his knees.

It felt as if he were floating on a cloud or out on a calm clear lake. So peaceful and soothing. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so relaxed. Vin had come to live on constant alert. Never completely letting down his guard. For a man worth five hundred dollars, dead or alive, it was a luxury he could not afford. Though it had been easier over the last few months as he had come to trust the other six peacekeepers to watch his back more and more, he had still never completely just let go for any extended period of time. For along with the contentment of having men willing to risk their lives to protect him came a worry for these same men’s safety, should that very need arise. Risking his life was second nature to the seasoned young man, but allowing others to risk theirs on his behalf took a lot of getting used to.

Now, as he floated in the misty grayness that was his world, he couldn’t help but wonder what was happening. The peacefulness of the previous moment was shattered with a new fear. How could he feel this content, this safe? And where was he? Why couldn’t he feel his body and why couldn’t he see? The questions bombarded him, heightening his distress.

A gentle brush of warm air seemed to caress his cheek and he sensed a presence nearby. His composure was partly restored as a familiar voice drifted out of the mist.

‘I’m right by your side. But I can’t stay and neither can you.’ Lizbeth knew that time was running out. ‘Life is all about making choices. To go left or right? To move forward or step back? To stay or to go?’

Vin didn’t understand what she was saying. Go where? Stay in Four Corners? He didn’t want to leave. Not really, but…

It nagged at Vin’s mind that she had used his full name. He didn’t remember letting his last name slip, but then again it didn’t seem all that important at the moment. The grey mist was parting and a bright light began to shine through, filling the space around him with a deep warm glow. A feeling of peace washed over him like nothing he had ever felt before.

Lizbeth felt the change. Her strategy wasn’t working. All of her efforts were to be for naught. What more could she do? Ultimately it was Vin’s decision and what right did she have to interfere. Yet, as her thoughts turned to the reason why she had done all of it, she knew she couldn’t give up. There had to be some way to make him fight. In her being she knew it wasn’t his time, but if she didn’t think of something fast it would be too late. The answer came to her so vividly that she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. Letting her own stubborn will pour through her she tried one last thing.

The tone of her voice had changed. She sounded anxious and angry. Why was someone always yelling at him when he was hurt? Then, as her words penetrated his mind, he felt the panic rise within. Trouble? The others were in trouble?!

‘Chris needs your help,Vin! You have to help him!’ It wasn’t a lie and the tremor and fear in her voice weren’t just for effect.

Vin felt her alarm as it seemed to wash over him. Chris and the others needed him. They were in trouble. He had to watch their backs. His chest swelled with a nearly crushing intensity as his mind began to ready itself for battle. The glowing light receded as a cold darkness took its place. The fight had come to him.

The last of her words faded away to nothing as a fiery heat flooded his body, bringing with it excruciating pain. All recent thoughts and memories were swept away from his mind, leaving behind only fleeting feelings and images of what had happened. A reality of pain, heat, and fear replaced his world of serenity. He couldn’t breathe and each attempt to do so felt like a huge fist was squeezing his upper body. Pushing at the heaviness that lay upon his chest and trying to sit up, he felt hands upon his shoulders, pinning him down.

His reactions were pure raw instinct. Lashing out quickly with his fist he landed a weakened yet still substantial blow against the enemy. Even though he was fairly certain his eyes were open, all he could make out were dim lights and shadows. A loud rumbling of noise above him only heightened his anxiety and he began to struggle even more. It might have been a voice, but at the moment nothing mattered but getting up to help his friends and he would fight the devil himself, if necessary.

Despite the multitude of pain his movements caused him he wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t. His friends were depending on him. He had to find Chris. Something was very wrong and though his confused mind couldn’t quite latch on to what it was, he knew without a doubt that his best friend needed him. Fighting with every ounce of Tanner stubbornness within his body and screaming every curse he knew, in every language he knew, he continued to try to dislodge his attacker.

Curses and yells resounded throughout the formerly quiet little room. One minute Nathan had been sitting at his desk, the only sound in his clinic was the rough breathing of his patient, the only outward sign that the man still lived, and the occasional turning of a page as he continued to study one of his medical text books. The next he was struggling with what felt like a wild animal, while trying to recover from a stiff uppercut to his jaw that had stunned him momentarily, mostly due to the fact it had come from his patient.

"Vin, just calm down. You’re safe. It’s me, Nathan. Just calm down now." Despite his constant litany, nothing seemed to be getting through to the fevered man. After hearing a sharp intake of air from his patient just seconds before, the healer had turned to find his formerly comatose patient attempting to throw off the blankets that covered him. The beads of sweat on the pale forehead were the first sign that Vin’s fever had worsened, but as the healer had approached the bed and two confused blue eyes stared up at him he was certain that the prayer for his friend to awaken had been answered, only to now be shadowed as a new serious threat to Vin’s health became evident.

Fearing the stubborn man’s next actions might be to get up, and still unsure of the seriousness of injuries that might prove yet to be uncovered, he had firmly placed his hands upon the tracker’s shoulders, keeping up a continuous flow of words to soothe and assure the young man that he was safe and among friends. That had been his first mistake.

The panic that flowed into Vin’s blue eyes were the first warning that things were about to escalate, but Vin was injured and weak. If nothing else the man would struggle a bit before passing out again. Nathan had little doubt that he could protect his friend from doing himself more harm, while working to calm his agitated state. That had been his second mistake.

Now as Nathan struggled to keep Vin from injuring himself further and wondering where on earth the injured man had found the incredible reserve of strength he now seemed to possess, he couldn’t help but wish with all of his might that he had allowed one of the other men to stay. He needed help. All of his efforts to calm the tracker were fruitless and he wasn’t sure who could hold out longer at the moment. What he did know was that in Vin’s fevered, delusional state, he had to get the young man calmed down and cooled down or things could go from worse to disastrous fast.

‘Damnit, where are those hovering, pain in the ass gunslingers when you need them.’ If anyone could help him right now it would be…

The door to the clinic slammed open as JD rushed in, guns drawn. He had heard all of the yelling and thought someone was being attacked in the clinic. Seeing Nathan struggling with a now seemingly wide awake Vin, he felt a huge sense of relief. That relief was quickly cut short when Nathan glared at him and yelled.

"Find Chris and get his ass here now!"

Chris sent up his feeble prayer silently, to a God he had come to realize he still believed in. There had to have been a higher power at work the day he met Vin. And most definitely during their search for him, as they really could have looked for months and never found him. And even though the bad things in life often made most people question it, something else Sarah had always told him rang true in his mind as he knelt at the altar.

Sarah’s faith had been strong and she had lifted him up with it. One of her most treasured possessions had been the old bible that her mother had given to her before she passed away. Though his beloved wife had been familiar herself with the dangerousness of the west, she had drawn on her beliefs to see her through every trial that came her way. Chris had always marveled at her strength of spirit. And it had been that strength he had missed to see him through when her and Adam’s deaths had devastated his world.

Now he had come to realize that her strength and beliefs still lived within him and to deny them would be denying her and everything she had held dear. And he had betrayed her and their memories enough already.

He was still afraid. Of that he was certain. Afraid of losing Vin and afraid of hanging on, but he would be damned if he would give in this time without a fight.

The tingling in his legs alerted him to the fact that he had been in a kneeling position for a bit too long. He wasn’t getting any younger and hanging around this group of trouble magnets was aging him fast. As he began to slowly stand, he felt the room tilt and found himself flat on his back the next minute, a worried mustached face hovering above him.

Buck had every intention of not moving until Chris was well away, but his old friend’s sudden re-acquaintance with the chapel floor changed his mind quickly. He was off of his seat on the back pew and down the aisle before he could rethink his actions. By the time he knelt down beside Chris, the gunslinger was blinking up at him with a slightly confused expression on his face.

"Just take it easy, old buddy. Think you might’ve passed out there for a minute." Buck was quick to place his hand lightly upon Chris’s chest to forestall any sudden movements and keep the man from just getting right back up and ultimately repeating the process.

Chris wasn’t sure how he had ended up on the floor until Buck spoke. ‘Passed out? Don’t be ridiculous.’ Then again, his head was pounding and there was definitely nothing in his stomach at the moment. What would it hurt to just lie here for an extra minute?

Staring back up at Buck’s worried face he looked at it more closely. Truth be told, he had been a bit preoccupied for the last day and hadn’t really paid attention to the toll all of this was having on the others. Buck looked as tired and haggard as he felt at the moment. Wanting to lighten the moment he decided to joke about it.

"You’re not looking too good yourself there, Buck. Maybe you should join me down here before you fall down."

Instead of the mischievous twinkle he had expected in the deep blue eyes, he watched as the worry in them deepened and Buck averted his gaze. Something was going on. The ladies’ man was hiding something.

Fear spiked his temper and he sat up on his elbows, still careful to take it slow, and stared at the side of his oldest friend’s face. They hadn’t ridden together that long without learning how to read one another pretty well.

"What’s going on, Buck?"

Looking up quickly, Buck tried to hide his emotions behind a very weak smile, but his denial was cut short before ever even leaving his lips.

"And don’t say ‘nothing’, because you’ve looked like someone shot your dog all day." Thinking back, Chris realized how true that statement was. Sure Buck, the same as the rest, had been worried about Vin and still was, but there was something more. It was almost like he’d been hiding. Come to think of it. Where had he come from so quickly? Chris’ face clouded as his mind came upon the answer and he couldn’t hide the anger in his voice.

"How long have you been here?"

Buck felt like a bear caught in a trap, with a hunter breathing down on him, rifle sighted and ready. Standing up he still couldn’t quite meet Chris’ gaze. It was now or never. There would never be a good time and his guilt had been eating away at him for too long already.

"I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean to overhear. I just didn’t want to disturb you and I couldn’t slip out without disturbing you. And… Oh God, this is all my fault. You have every right to hate me. I was only trying to look out for you, but…"

The overflow of emotion and words was not quite what Chris had been expecting. Buck had gone from worried friend to babbling idiot in seconds and as he slowly sat up he tried to calm the ladies’ man.

"Slow down. You’re not making any sense."

Buck knew he had to get this out before his heart exploded, but he did stop long enough to take a deep breath and compose himself. He had rehearsed how he wanted to do this in his head a multitude of times, but now that the moment was here it came out blunt and awkward.

"It’s all my fault. I asked Vin to leave you alone and now he’s dying."

It took a few minutes for Chris’ brain to catch up with Buck’s meaning. And his gut reaction spoke first. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I know. I shouldn’t be messing in your business, but I know how ya get around the holidays and the last thing I wanted to have to do was break up a fight between you and that boy. God, Chris. If I’da had any idea… You know I’d never let anything happen to Vin if I could prevent it. I had no idea…" Buck was fumbling for what to say, not sure if he should try and explain or just ride out now. The Larabee glare was lethal enough, but right now he was feeling it full force.

Chris couldn’t believe Buck’s audacity. Hadn’t he told the man in no uncertain terms that he was to mind his own business? The anger that was suddenly flowing through him caused him to forget his body’s previous weakness and he stood to face the man he was just about ready to throttle.

"How dare you! You had no right…" The icy words he was about to say died on his lips as he stared at the pitiful creature before him.

Chris took a second to reflect on the situation. Why had Buck interfered? Why did the man ever interfere? Because he thought he was helping. Buck’s big heart, among other things, had a tendency to get in the way of his good sense on occasion. Being angry at Buck for wanting to protect him and Vin from a potentially volatile situation was not only stupid, it was selfish. Buck was blaming himself for what had happened to Vin and Chris had been more than ready to agree. But that wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair. Chris needed someone to blame, besides himself, and had seized an easy out. But the sad blue eyes before him were reminiscent of another pair that would have railed his ass for such an action. Vin would never blame Buck. Of this he was certain. So why should he?

Buck looked at Chris quizzically. As the tirade ended mid-stride and the Larabee glare softened, he readied himself to catch the gunslinger when he fell, thinking that surely Chris was about to once again succumb to his body’s weakness. Why else would the man have stopped yelling and started looking at him so strangely?

"It’s okay, Buck."

Confused blue eyes met sincere green ones. What was going on?

Chris nearly laughed at the look of utter bewilderment on his friend’s face. Then it saddened him. Buck had not only expected to be yelled at for his actions, he had probably expected even worse. It would be a new priority of Chris’s to make sure that his oldest friend knew just where he stood with him, that he wouldn’t be thrown out just because he did something to anger a temperamental old gunslinger. Things might be different now than they had been once, their friendship had changed through the trials and hardship, but it had also matured. Through it all, it was the one thing he had always known in the back of his mind that he could count on. Buck had always been a good friend to him and still was. It was about time one Chris Larabee returned the favor. Holding out his hand he waited patiently, never taking his eyes away from Buck’s until the ladies’ man’s hand tentatively reached out and took it.

"I know you were only trying to help. And I appreciate it." Then tightening his grip and hardening his expression slightly he added, "Just put a bit more thought into your efforts next time." Wanting to take a bit of the sting out of his last warning he let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly as he continued. "You know it’s a pretty good bet that it would have been my ass you were scraping up off of the floor if I’d’ve decided to tangle with that wildcat of a tracker."

Buck felt himself smiling back, awed and humbled by the ease at which his burden had just been lifted.

Any further reflection or comment was cut short as a whirlwind came through the church’s front doors.

"Thank God! I’ve been looking all over town." JD was out of breath and the look on his face caused both men’s hearts to stop. "Nathan needs you at the clinic now!"

JD barely got out the words ‘Nathan needs’ before he felt the tails of Chris’s long duster slap his legs as the gunslinger flew by him and out of the church with Buck hot on his heels.

Chris could feel his heart racing from a lot more than exertion as he cleared the top of the steps and ran across the landing toward the door to the clinic. Not sure of what he would find behind it, and unsure if he even wanted to know, he pressed on, knowing he wasn’t alone in his quest. Buck and JD were both behind him by a few paces, but his only concern was what lay in the room before him.

His hand grabbed the doorknob with a vise like grip, twisting it with more force than necessary. The door swung open awkwardly, just in time for him to bear witness as Nathan dodged a weak left cross from the pale man who no longer lay motionless in the bed.

"What the hell?"

Nathan’s head snapped up and tired dark eyes flooded with relief. "Thank the good Lord! Get over here and get this fool calmed down before he hurts his self."

Chris crossed the small room in three long strides and immediately took over the job of wrestling with his best friend. Despite his weakening state, the ill man had a lot more strength than he had expected. "Vin? You’ve got to calm down. Stop fighting me."

"He ain’t got the strength to waste on fighting us right now." Nathan huffed in frustration as he went to his desk for some water and medicinal tea. "His fever’s up and he’s not in his right mind."

Vin’s right hand slipped from Chris’s grasp and even at less than half strength the shot to the nose had the blond blinking back the stars and tears that suddenly clouded his vision. Quickly recapturing the errant hand around the wrist as lightly as he dared so as not to lose track of it again, he continued his attempt to get through to the delusional young man.

"Stop it, Vin. You’re going to hurt yourself." This was like wrestling with a wildcat and Chris made a mental note not to find himself tangling with the tracker when the younger man was at full strength. The hot dry skin he felt beneath his palms did little to assuage his fears as he continued to try and get through to his friend. "It’s me, Chris. You’re safe now. Come on, cowboy, just calm down."

Somewhere in the muggy swamp that was Vin’s mind at the moment, the gunslinger’s last few words penetrated. The familiar voice finally found an audience and the struggles began to abate.

Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, Chris continued trying to assure the confused man. "That’s it, cowboy. Just take it easy and lay back down."

He was here. Even if Vin couldn’t quite see him, he could hear and feel him near.

"Chrrriiiisss…?" The quiet rasp slurred from parched lips, but was quickly interrupted by weak coughs.

Nathan was immediately at the other side of the bed with a cup of water. "We gots ta get him to drink. His fever’s up. We have to keep water in him and get ‘em cooled down."

Nathan was assessing all of the new problems. He knew that trying to question the tracker about further injuries would be futile in the tracker’s current state, but he could treat the fever and lack of fluids. The hot dry skin and the confused state did not bode well and unless they could get the fever down, the end complications… No, Nathan wouldn’t even allow his thoughts to travel that path at the moment. All of that could wait until they got Vin over this next obstacle. And they would get him through it. They had to.

Lifting the now nearly limp tracker’s head up slightly, the two men managed to get nearly half the cup of water into the ill man before a weak hand pushed it away.

"Chrriiss." The voice was not much stronger, but a touch clearer. The tone, deep and raw with his throat’s lack of use, seemed desperate. Chris felt that same sense of urgency. It was fueled by a need to make things right before it was too late. But now was not the time for either of them.

"Shhhh, Vin. Just relax."

Vin began mumbling incoherently and Chris wasn’t even sure if what the tracker was saying was in English. The young man was known to revert to one or more of the Indian dialects he had picked up along the way when sick and fevered or just plain mad. The gunslinger even thought he detected a bit of Spanish in there somewhere.

Why couldn’t he see Chris’s face, everything was so cloudy. There were shapes and a dim light, but nothing he could definitely make out. No matter how hard he blinked it didn’t clear and his arms were far too heavy for him to have any hope of lifting his hands to rub at the nearly useless eyes. It struck him slightly that he should be terrified, but even that emotion was being pushed aside by an almost urgent need that his less than cognizant mind couldn’t quite sort out. Something wouldn’t leave him alone to rest. What did he need to do? Why did he feel like there were important things that he was forgetting? Things he needed to do. But he couldn’t quite…

Fighting had taken so much out of him and he felt a combination of sensations that were overwhelming. The pain intensified as his head felt like it was caught between two opposing forces. It was almost as if someone were trying to squeeze it off. At the same time he felt his stomach roll and twinge as the meager amount of water he had drank seemed to be at war with his insides. Unfortunately a swift retreat had been called for and Vin found himself coughing and gagging as the liquid burned its way back up his throat.

Nathan had been prepared for such and with deft movements had his patient up and hunched over the basin he had retrieved from the bedside table, all the while praying that his actions would not do Vin further harm.

A cry of pain rallied from deep within the tracker’s throat as the new movements sent torrents of pain shooting through his battered body. The heat of the agony racing through him was like a wildfire, draining the last of his strength and sending him back into the dark void of nothingness.

Feeling his patient go limp, the healer’s large hand quickly moved under Vin’s shirt to the chest, the feel of the heart racing beneath wrenching a sigh of relief from him that could be felt throughout the room.

"He’s just passed out. Sure wish I could have gotten some tea into him though." Thinking on the long fight ahead Nathan again wondered if it was a battle he was meant to win. His morbid thoughts drew down his defenses as his own tired body gave in to his fears. There were times he wished to be blissfully ignorant to the ways of illness and medicine. Watching his friend in this fight for his very life was one of them.

Unsure of where they stood at the moment Chris glanced up at the man they all sought out for reassurance at times such as these and caught the healer unaware. The look of despair found within the dark brown eyes chilled the gunslinger’s blood and gave rise to a sudden surge of anger. How dare Nathan give up on Vin!

But as quickly as it appeared, the anger was replaced with shame. Had he not been guilty of the very same thing? These men looked to him for leadership; a burden he often felt was more than he could bear. And it struck him that the same must be true for their resident healer. This man that they all turned to, expecting him to heal all wounds and cure all ailments. Noticing the darkened area under the dark skinned healer’s eyes and the scattering of redness nearly obscuring the whites, Chris realized he was letting everyone down. This wasn’t just about Vin or him; this was affecting them all, one way or another. It was time for him to take charge once again.

"Thanks, Nathan."

The quiet spoken words brought the healer’s head up quickly and the sincerity in the green eyes of his leader had him questioning his own consciousness. Afraid that maybe he had somehow given Chris false hope or led him to believe that everything was okay just because Vin had awakened momentarily, Nathan scrambled to try and clarify the situation.

"He’s not…"

Chris never let him finish. "I know he’s not out of the woods yet, but I just wanted to thank you for all you’ve done. I know it’s not easy. We put a lot on your shoulders." Not sure what else to say he decided to take the opportunity to regain the yoke of leadership. "Go on and get some rest. You can use my room."

"Not with…"

With a half smile Chris cocked his head and decided to turn the tables a little. "You’re Vin’s best chance, but if you get taken down by exhaustion, then where will we be?" Sensing the healer’s continuing misgivings, he continued. "I could use a bit of rest myself so I’m gonna lay here on the cot for a bit while Buck looks after Vin. I think we can handle things here for a few hours."

Chris let his eyes travel up to where his old friend still stood with JD by the door, both looking almost afraid to breathe. Their eyes met and Buck knew what was being offered. A warmth spread through him at the thought that his confessed transgression had been cast aside like nothing and he was being given an opportunity to not only help Vin, but Chris as well.

"And I think we know the routine by now." The next part was spouted out as if in he were in school repeating the teacher’s instructions. "Keep trying to cool him down, make sure he doesn’t move around too much, force tea and water in him when he’s awake, and come and get you if anything changes."

Nathan felt his own mouth pull into a tight grin at the familiar words. He really was exhausted and he realized Chris was right, as his own arguments came back to him. He needed to rest some so he could come back to this fight refreshed and ready. Maybe there wasn’t a lot he could do, but by God, he’d put his all into what little there was. With a simple nod he stood and reached for his coat. Only stopping once to glance back unsurely, a slight push by the ladies’ man toward the door had him moving, the big man’s voice fading as he stepped into the bitter cold darkness.

"Don’t you worry none, Nate." Buck’s big voiced boomed. "We’ll take good care of the boy here."

"JD, why don’t you go tell Josiah and Ezra what’s going on and then all of you go and get some rest. It’s been a long day."

JD wanted to protest, to help, but even he had sensed the change in Buck. The haunted look that had hovered in his best friend’s eyes had lifted. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but as long as things seemed better, not only for Buck, but for Chris too, he didn’t see any sense in arguing the point. Besides, he really was tired and wanted to be ready to help out as much as he could later.

"I’ll be back early in the morning to help you out and I’ll make sure and bring some breakfast."

If JD had learned anything over the past months with these men it was the value in reading a situation by watching and listening. And he had learned it well. Vin was still very ill and his life still hung in the balance, but to see Chris once again sitting with his injured friend and with Buck by his side to offer his help and support as was his way, things seemed to have turned a corner. He might just have a quick stop back at the church before heading to bed to add his own prayers for a swift healing for Vin and them all. And with that thought in his head he left to find the others. A new idea was working its way into his brain as he walked toward the saloon. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad Christmas after all. Where there was unity there was hope.

The next few hours were anything but restful for any of the three men inhabiting the small clinic. Buck worked tirelessly to try and bring Vin’s temperature down, wiping down the fevered flesh almost continuously. Chris had tried to get some rest on the small cot Nathan had started keeping in the corner for just such occasions, but found his slumber interrupted numerous times as Vin would rouse in a frenzy. Unsure of what was happening, and caught in a nightmare world of his mind’s own making, it was Chris’s voice alone that seemed to penetrate the tracker’s disorientation. Very little of what Vin said made any sense as the disjointed ramblings flowed and glazed blues eyes stared out at sights the other two men couldn’t see. But with just the few words they could understand and the agitated state of the ill man, it was obvious that Vin still thought the rest of the seven were in trouble and he had to help them. More than once Vin had gotten a death grip on Buck’s arm, pleading with him to find Chris and arguing that he had to help their leader. And Chris would talk himself nearly hoarse until Vin would either realize who he was and calm down, or would finally succumb to his body’s weakness and lose consciousness.

The hours passed slowly. For a few minutes, Chris found himself alone with Vin as Buck went to take care of the call of nature and get some fresh water. The younger man’s fever was still raging and the sinking feeling in Chris’ gut was beginning to wear down the renewed optimism he had received after his time in the church.

Staring down at the pale figure that once again lay motionless in the bed he felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t decide which was worse, watching the unnatural stillness of the unconscious tracker for continued signs of life or fighting to calm the fever fueled ramblings. Both tore at his heart, shredding any sense of security he might have allowed himself to gain over the past months. The hardened gunslinger dipped the cloth in the tepid water of the nearby basin and gently ran it over Vin’s flushed face.

The relaxed features gave light to the man’s more than likely true age. ‘So young to have seen so much.’ Chris wondered how anyone could see such pain and hardship and still find it in his heart to help others. To have been abandoned and left to practically raise oneself at such a young age as Vin had been was almost unimaginable. It wasn’t that it was impossible or even that unusual, but Chris had come from a loving home, raised by parents who taught him how to make his way in the world. Then the loss of his cherished wife and son had rocked his world, nearly eradicating every lesson he had been taught, even those he had gained from Sarah. In just one night of tragedy he had given in to the darker side of his nature without a second thought. While this young man before him had seen tragedy after tragedy and yet still retained a kind heart and sense of justice that rivaled about anyone Chris had ever met. Though often hidden behind a quiet and unassuming demeanor, Vin hadn’t allowed his difficult life to harden him to the needs of others. In fact, the gunslinger often felt that Vin tried harder, as if trying to make up for his own pain and loss by seeing to it that other innocents were spared such needless suffering.

So where Chris had let tragedy turn him away from life and his responsibilities, Vin had let it shape his understanding of the underdog and catalyze his strong sense of responsibility, especially when it came to the safety of the men he had allowed into his life. A stubbornly proud man, Chris was honored to call him friend. Though the younger man’s reckless disregard for his own life when protecting others had led to more than one injury and inevitable tongue lashing by his friends, this time it had been stubborn pride that had him now fighting for his life. Chris’s own pride.

He had been too proud to work through the dark days of the Christmas holiday. Too proud to admit that there even was a problem. And too proud to turn to his friends to help him. Instead he had turned away from them and turned to whiskey. Wanting to forget, rather than remember. Turning his back on his friends and ultimately on the memories of his wife and son. Disgracing them and himself.

"I don’t deserve a friend like you, Vin. People close to me get hurt. Or worse." Placing the now warm cloth back into the cool water he checked Vin’s brow, sighing at the heat that continued to radiate from the flushed skin. He was doing it again. Turning his back, losing his faith, and trying to hide. Vin needed someone to believe in him more now than ever.

"My faith’s been tested too many times already, cowboy. Even lost it for a while. But if I’ve got any faith left in me at all it’s in you. Come on, Vin. Don’t give up. You’ve still got too much to live for." The words he could never say to a conscious audience tumbled out without thought. "I know your life hasn’t been easy and Lord knows if anyone deserves some peace it’s you, but…" Chris swallowed back the sour taste left by the thoughts that had just entered his mind. "Guess I’m being selfish, but I ain’t ready for you to go. Probably never will be. Who’s ever ready to lose a family member and that’s what you are to me, Vin. Didn’t realize what I had until today. Got the best damn Christmas present anyone could ask for. I got me a brother."

Hearing the door open and seeing the tall lanky figure that entered, he quietly added, "or two."

Buck came in and seeing the strange look upon his old friend’s face wondered if maybe he was interrupting. The guilt washed over him once again. Chris might have forgiven him for his interference, but the painful reminder in Nathan’s bed was still weighing on him. It wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself. Especially with Vin still so sick. Bringing in the fresh water and carefully replacing what was in the basin, he reached up instinctively to touch the side of the tracker’s face.

"Damn, he’s still so hot."

Chris just glanced up instead of answering that he knew. The guilt once again present in Buck’s eyes did not go unnoticed. "This isn’t your fault."

Buck looked up, startled, even though he shouldn’t have been. Chris had known him long enough and it wasn’t like he was a man to hide his feelings.

"I shouldn’t have interfered." Buck sighed and sat down heavily upon the chair on the other side of the bed. "Not like you two aren’t grown men. I guess, well…"

"You didn’t want the same thing to happen to Vin and me, that happened to you and me."

The frankness of the statement had Buck immediately looking up into the eyes of a man he had missed terribly. It was something that they had never even mentioned, let alone discussed.

Chris felt that it was time he set the record straight. Way past time to mend a few fences, starting with the man who had taught him what being a real friend meant, and the same man that had nearly paid the ultimate price for it.

Wanting to get up and distance himself from what he was about to say, he knew his tired body would not allow him to even stand at the moment. Maybe it was a sign that it was time to stop running. Time to stop trying to forget. And time now to remember, the good as well as the bad.

"I was one sorry excuse for a human being then." He didn’t have to elaborate, knowing Buck was well aware of the time he was talking about. "Drank too much and cared too little. Hell," he scoffed. "I didn’t care at all."

Buck sat wanting to stop Chris from pushing himself to talk about the dark days after Sarah and Adam’s death, but not sure if he should. He wanted so much to help his oldest friend.

Chris had been one of the first men he had trusted with his past. Buck’s campfire confession had come late one night. After the untimely death of a saloon girl in the last town they had visited, and encouraged by a couple of bottles of whiskey, the words had flowed. He had only known Chris for a few months, but it hadn’t mattered, as the blond had seemed to sense the distress in his normally jovial new friend. The night had never been mentioned again, Chris never once saying anything negative or even mentioning the big man’s heartfelt admissions. It had felt good to share the burden of his upbringing with someone and had strengthened the budding friendship between the two young men those many years ago. That sudden memory led Buck to see a similarity that had previously escaped his notice. Vin had trusted Chris with his past nearly from the beginning and upon there another friendship had been forged.

Despite the many differences of the seven men that served as the town’s protectors, there were many hidden similarities. Nathan knew personally about prejudice, as did Vin and even Ezra. But so did Buck. How many times as a child had he been shunned? The very children he sought to play with practically dragged from his presence as though he were some sort of contagious disease that should be locked away and kept out of the sight of ‘decent folk’.

Buck might not have been a slave, but his mother had been, in a sense. A slave to a society that gave a poor single mother very few choices and then ridiculed her for the life they had practically forced upon her. She was a saint in his eyes and still one of the bravest women he had ever known, though very few knew just what she had done, what she had sacrificed, all for love of her ‘little man’. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, but years of ridicule had a tendency to make an impression. So instead he had learned that the less said the better. Most people would likely find it shocking to know that his mother had been a ‘working girl’. Most would probably even treat him differently if they knew; so many had, except for Chris. Chris had made him feel like he was just as good as everyone else and somehow Buck felt the same was true for Vin, in a way.

And just as the sharing of Buck’s burdens so long ago had made a difference, now Chris needed to share. And just as his confession in the church earlier had lightened his load tremendously, he knew that it was time he returned the favor and allowed his old friend to do the same.

Chris had been half expecting Buck to try and stop him from the road he was about to travel. Half wanting him to and then again knowing full well that it was something that should have been spoken of a long time before. It was time to clear the air and lay down some groundwork on the renewed friendship he had with this softhearted ladies’ man.

"I don’t know what else to say other than, I’m sorry. I know back then you were only trying to help, but I didn’t want you to. Didn’t want anyone to. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else I was close to. Guess I thought that if you weren’t around me you’d be better off. Safer." Glancing up with a bare hint of a grin, Chris added. "Forgot that you were the one that got us in trouble most of the time anyway."

"Meeeee?" Buck’s innocent look didn’t hold long as the memories of the good times the two young men had flowed through his mind. "If I recall, I did have some help on occasion."

There he went, trying to avoid the past all over again. ‘Damnit, Larabee. You are such a coward.’ This was too important and needed to be said.

"More than anything, I’m sorry about Gibbonsville."

It had been six months after the death of his family and Buck had been like his shadow. Hauling Chris to bed when he got too drunk to do it himself or even care. Watching his back as his reputation as a gunslinger seemed to take on a life of its own. Those had been the darkest days of Chris Larabee’s life. Full of whiskey, guns, and hate. Everything made him angry. The sun bright in the morning, the sound of children playing, the sight of his best friend sitting beside him stealing quick glances at him full of concern. Everything good was tinged dark with the pain he carried deep within his soul. A wound so deep he had thought it not only impossible to be mended, but more importantly one that did not deserve to be healed. Its festering, and the hell it brought him to reside in, was a seemingly small bit of penance for his failure to protect those he loved more than life itself.

Even Buck had not been himself during those months, suffering his own pain of loss silently. But the silence itself should have been an indication of how much the big man had been hurting. No carousing, loud talking, joking around. All of the things that made Buck who he was had been kept in reserve for the day he helped his friend begin to heal. Feeling his own guilt he had sought redemption by helping Chris, but even that had been denied him as the gunslinger had wrapped tighter and tighter within himself. Growing sullen and shadowy, the man he had called friend disappeared and a cold, angry being took his place. Months of taking the angry quiet of day and the foul mouth that awakened with too much imbibing at night were beginning to wear down the easygoing spirit. Yet even as he feared his own soul being tainted by the dark moods he was dealing with on a daily basis, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He couldn’t leave Chris to face the darkness alone. And he hadn’t. The choice hadn’t been his and the final straw came one dark rainy night in a saloon in the tiny town of Gibbonsville.

"Get the hell out of my face!"

It still amazed Buck how sober Chris could look and act even when totally smashed. The anger poured from every part of his body, from the stiffened shoulders to the dark glint in the icy green eyes. The glare and harsh words had already cleared out nearly every other patron in the tiny saloon, though at this late hour most had already escaped to their own homes. So now it was just Buck, Chris, and a cowering bartender who had already retreated to the far corner of the bar, almost too afraid to even poke his head above and relying on the mirror behind to alert him to further trouble.

"Now listen, Chris, I just think it’s time we call it a night." Buck had already taken the liberty of securing a couple of the rooms that were available on the second floor of the little rundown establishment. They might not be much but the shorter the distance it took to get Chris to a bed the better. Wondering if he would be forced to use the less savory method of a fist to the jaw to get his friend to comply, Buck never saw the jab coming until he found himself flat on his back on the smelly wooden floor.

"I told you to stay away from me, but no! You just keep at it! Just leave me the hell alone!" Fire and anger rippled through the too lean form. It wasn’t just Chris’s soul that was suffering these days. The man ate too little, too infrequently, and often chose a liquid diet over a wholesome meal. Buck knew in a fair fight he could take Chris easily. But that night’s fight was fueled by something much stronger than human might. That night Chris Larabee wasn’t fighting with his friend. He was wrestling the demons of hell with a power fueled by months of bottled up hate and pain.

Buck, seeing only a need to protect himself and his friend, missed the warning signs and the look of murder coming from the darkened green eyes. Or maybe, somewhere deep in his own heart, he missed it on purpose, wanting to feel his own atonement in a more physical sense. His own pain and doubts had taken a back seat for too long, pushed aside by his need to look after Chris.

Jumping up Buck rushed Chris, taking him down hard, the other man’s reflexes slowed slightly by the amber liquid still firing through his veins. "I ain’t… gonna… give up." Buck huffed, fighting to get the words out through clenched teeth as he worked to subdue the writhing body beneath him. "So you just… might as well… get used to… Ohhfff!"

All of the air was knocked from his body as a fist connected painfully with his left side. Momentarily stunned he felt himself shoved off sideways, the momentum rolling him onto his back just as a dark visage rose over him.

The next few minutes were filled with the grunts, groans, and yells of two men so filled with pain and rage that nothing mattered but trying to take it out on one another. Both in a blind rage and unable to quell the anger long enough to truly think about the consequences of their actions. Another fist to the gut, another to the face. Both men gave as good as they got.

Then once again fate stepped in to further complicate the situation. A discarded bottle and the edge of a table put a quick and frightening end to the contest of wills. Chris had pushed Buck away from him to get a better angle when the ladies’ man had tripped over the unseen bottle that lay just behind his right foot. It happened so fast and yet seemed in slow motion as Buck’s head connected with the edge of the table with a sickening crack.

In mere seconds Chris’s world plunged into the deeper depths of darkness and this time literally by his own hands. Those frightening moments remained clear in his mind though the rest of the night had been a blur, what happened before and after stolen by the aftereffects of the alcohol. The next morning he had awakened in the local jail, certain that he had killed his best friend.

"It was a long time ago."

"I nearly killed you."

"I’m still here."

"It shouldn’t have happened. You were only trying to help and nearly died because of it."

"It was just a little knock to the head. You and I both know there wasn’t any damage left to be done." Buck was trying to lighten the mood as always.

Chris just couldn’t let it go, not yet. The sight of Buck bleeding all over the dirty barroom floor was still vivid in his mind. And being so tired and already having been through the emotional wringer with Vin only heightened his response.

"You’re a good friend, Buck Wilmington. You were there during the darkest hours of my life and kept me from following Sarah and Adam to the grave." Chris swallowed hard against the emotions that tightened his throat. He might never feel like this again. Not one to openly show much emotion, if he didn’t say this now, he probably never would. "I hated you for it then. God help me, but I did. I didn’t want anyone caring, didn’t want you near. But you wouldn’t leave me alone, wouldn’t let me just die."

Buck felt his own heart break at Chris’s admissions. Though he had suspected and feared those very things, it was different to hear it said out loud.

"You saved my life and I treated you like shit for it. Beat the crap out of you and nearly killed you, then just rode away. You deserved better."

For once in his life, Buck was nearly speechless. But as was his nature he sought to assuage some of his friend’s guilt. "As I recall, you took a bit of a beatin’ yourself that night."

The genuine smile and mischievous glint that greeted Chris was contagious and he felt his own lips curl in response.

"Besides, I have it on good authority that one mangy gunslinger sat outside that old doctor’s house until he was certain another sorry soul was gonna make it before he rode out."

Chris had wondered if the old crusty doctor that had patched up his friend had said anything to him about the ill-tempered gunfighter that had camped out in his front yard for the two days it took for Buck to heal enough to be out of danger. He had refused any treatment for himself, but had to admit that he hadn’t felt too spry for a good week after the brawl.

"We sure are a mess, aren’t we?" Buck commented as he shook his head. "Two old geezers sitting here worried about things long done and gone."

"I just…" Chris started, but was interrupted.

"That’s the past, old friend. Guess it’s time we both let it go." Buck’s words held a double meaning and were sobering until he nodded toward the bed and added. "Sides, with these younguns’ to raise, who’s got time to bellyache about the past?"

Chris quietly snorted as he looked down at Vin’s profile. "Hell, he’s older than both of us put together."

"Hard to believe sometimes that he ain’t rightly much older than JD, ain’t it?" Buck still marveled at the hidden youth of the group’s second in command. Despite the rough and rugged exterior and shrewd eyes that more often than not reflected a hard edge formed by his vast experiences, both good and bad, the youthful and mischievous side of the group’s tracker had become more apparent as the months passed and they had all become more comfortable around one another. It may have been the life experiences that made Vin seem so much older, but they were also made him the man he was.

Chris’s nod showed his agreement. The weariness he felt within only gained in intensity after the emotionally draining revisiting of the past. Seeing the slumped shoulders and the tightness around Chris’ eyes, Buck knew he was falling down on his job. It wasn’t just Vin he was supposed to be looking after.

"Why don’t you lay down for another spell? Hopefully, the kid here’s worn himself out enough to sleep for a bit." Knowing Chris as he did, and already expecting the protest, he continued before he could be interrupted. "I’ll keep trying to get the fever down and let you know if there’s any change whatsoever. And then, once you’ve had some rest, reckon I could use a bit of a nap myself."

Chris felt his lips tug up at the way Buck had laid it all out, knowing full well he would protest and cutting off any such arguments with pure and simple logic. Most people saw the ladies’ man as just a fun loving guy with a penchant for thinking with his lower extremities on most occasions, but after years of riding together Chris was well aware of the man’s more hidden talents. Beneath the gregarious big man with a heart to more than match his size, was a logical mind and a will stronger than iron. Another trait Buck had in common with Vin, allowing outer appearances and actions to conceal the gifts that lay within.

"Okay, but you wake me in a couple of hours." Chris added a watered down version of his glare to make his point before settling back onto the cot in the corner. He knew he was tired, but he wouldn’t even remember lying down as his body succumbed to the overall exhaustion.

Nathan had been feeling so beyond tired, but now even though he had been given the opportunity to rest, had practically been ordered to, he couldn’t. Though weary in body his mind would not relax as the worry that he couldn’t shake manifested itself into an incredible need to pray. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been doing so off and on already, nearly from the moment the loud knock at his door had roused him from a peaceful sleep. When Chris had come to inform the healer of his intention to ride out in search of Vin for no other reason than the gunslinger felt something was wrong, he had prayed. But right now he felt a need to be within the house of God. Though still a bit rundown, it was a sanctuary. A place to go to find comfort and peace, though he doubted that would come for him this evening. So he knelt in silence, his mind so engrossed in his thoughts and prayers that he was unaware when someone joined him.

Josiah had left the saloon not long after JD had come to inform Ezra and himself of Vin’s condition and Chris’s orders for all of them to get some rest. Ezra had retreated to his room, mumbling something about having some things to take care of. Strange, the preacher thought, knowing the conman wasn’t normally prone to incoherent speech. Of course they had all had a long, hard day. Heading back to the church and his small room in the back, he wasn’t sure just how much sleep he would get, but truth be told, he wanted to see the bookshelf Vin had made. The tracker had definitely picked up a vast array of skills in his short but enormously busy life.

As he entered the church he spotted the gift where it sat against the wall and knelt down to examine it more closely. The light from the candles that must have been left over from the service provided enough illumination for him to see the similarities in the workmanship of this piece and the manger. He was touched beyond measure at the slight carving work that had been done on the edges. That personal touch reminded him of the carvings upon Ezra’s gift box. Likely Vin had put a great deal of thought and care into all the gifts.

It also hadn’t escaped Josiah’s notice that nothing had been delivered, or even mentioned, for Chris. Surely Vin would have thought of their leader first of all. Even if things had been more than a touch strained between the two over the last few days, it wasn’t Vin’s nature to allow such a slight. Not that it mattered at the moment, but it was a curious thought.

A sound from the front of the church had him instantly alert. Had the light been better he might have noticed his visitor sooner, but the unmistakable form was hunched pretty low at the moment. Josiah knew too well the heart Nathan poured into his work and this time had to be worse, with the patient being a friend and one of the very men who had saved him from hanging. The war within his own heart was difficult, but as their healer, the ex-slave was depended on most often to provide answers that were beyond mortal man’s capabilities.

Seeing his friend so obviously in pain, he started to approach, but hesitated. Should he interrupt Nathan’s quiet time with God or should he join with him? Well, it was said that two heads were better than one.

"Brother? May I join you?"

The quiet voice in the darkness caused the healer’s heart to quicken, but he tried not to react outwardly. It was foolish of him to be caught so unaware. "Not so sure I’d be much company at the moment. I’s just headed over to Chris’s room for a little nap. Thought I’d stop here on the way."

Josiah felt a grin form on his lips as he sat down on the front pew just behind the hunched figure that had yet to look up. "Seems to me that Brother Chris’s room is in the opposite direction. But, then again, the mind is one of the first things to go, or so I’m told."

Nathan chuckled as he wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. Then, slowly standing, he sat down beside his friend.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes as the stillness surrounded them like a blanket. Josiah felt that Nathan needed to talk and was more than willing to wait for him to take his own time doing so.

"Sometimes I wish I didn’t know a thing about healing."

A thousand retorts sprung to Josiah’s mind, but he held his tongue, knowing full well the path his friend’s thoughts were taking.

"I just… It’s hard knowing that you’ve done everything you know to help someone. Praying it’ll be enough. Terrified it won’t be." Nathan felt his throat tighten. "Facing the loved ones and not knowing whether someone’s gonna live or die. Wondering if you might have been able to do more."

"Except this time, you have to face a loved one every time you look in the mirror." Josiah’s profound statement had Nathan’s head up and the dark brown eyes staring right at him.

"We do the best we can, my friend. All of us use what we have to the best of our knowledge, the best of our abilities. And.." The next words were for both of them. "Sometimes it’s not enough."

Nathan looked into his friend’s icy blue eyes and saw his own doubts and torments mirrored there. They both had doubts. They all did. They were human. And Vin’s fate was out of human hands.

"We do the best we can and we leave the rest up to God. We don’t always understand why the path we are on takes sudden turns. Why was Vin left alone at five? Why were you sold away from your family and home? Why did John Dunne come out west after losing his mother? Why did Chris lose his family?" Josiah’s eyes traveled to the cross upon the wall. "There are things we face in our lives that seem more like the end than the beginning, but through the twists and turns we find a path we never could have imagined. Something greater than ourselves.

Nathan nodded his head in agreement. He would never have thought of the day he was nearly hung as a miraculous occurrence, but it had led him to meet two of the finest men he had ever known. That fateful experience had led him down a path he would never have imagined for himself, but now found it even harder to live without. His life was definitely more complicated than ever and fuller because a bunch of rowdy cowhands had taken it upon themselves to dish out what they considered frontier justice. He couldn’t deny that sometimes good things did come from bad situations.

"I don’t know if Brother Chris is rubbing off on me or not, but I feel like this has all happened for a reason. We might not understand the reason just now, and may not ever, but I have to believe that there is a higher purpose."

The preacher’s ice blue eyes looked upon his friend with warmth and hope. "Pray with me?" Nathan nodded and then both men turned their eyes toward the cross.

"God, we’re not ready to lose our young brother and I don’t think you’re really ready for him just yet. He’s quite a handful." The big preacher’s lips turned up slightly at his own light reference to Vin’s demeanor, but it didn’t slow him down as with a more somber tone he proceeded.

"I know that you know what is best for us even when we don’t understand it ourselves and often rail against you for the trials you lay before us. But I pray that you will see fit to grant us another miracle at this blessed anniversary of your Son’s birth. You sent him in to this world to save us all and I have little doubt that you did the same thing with Vin Tanner. Though I know he would deny being an instrument of healing, you and I know he has been. I often think of him as the balm and adhesive of our little band. With his quiet support and encouragement he allows each of us to grow and learn, while supplying the needed guidance. And I come before you today humbly asking that you return him unto us. We still have so much more to learn from him."

The next part was added silently within the confines of Josiah’s own heart. ‘And I would like the opportunity to continue educating him on brighter aspects of friendship. Vin hasn’t seen nearly enough kindness in his young life. I just want a chance to change that, if only a little.’

"Thy will be done. Amen."

The healer’s emotion roughened voice echoed the older man’s sentiments. "Amen."

The last day, coupled with the last few hours, proved draining on the two strong men, both physically and mentally. Each had finally fallen into a restless sleep. Vin lay deathly still once more upon the bed. Chris had given up lying down to prop up against the back wall, only half reclined on the cot. Getting up so often to tend to Vin was proving more and more difficult on his body that he was certain was aging with each passing minute. While Buck’s large frame was perched precariously on the wooden chair that he had strategically positioned beside the bed, the big man’s chin was resting upon his broad chest. The only sounds in the room were their soft breathing and the occasional snore that slipped from the back of Buck’s throat through his slightly open mouth.

Awareness came in the form of a sharp pain in his side as he tried to draw a deep breath into his lungs. It was pure instinct that had Vin stifling the groan that nearly accompanied the returning sensations. He didn’t dare open his eyes, for he was absolutely certain that any movement at all would drive the rail spike that had to be sticking in his skull straight on through. Then again maybe that might not be such a bad idea. Just end it quick before his head split in two.

Slowly he began to try to assess what had happened. He didn’t even remember being near a railroad. Maybe it was an ax or ‘aw hell’ maybe he got shot again. Chris was always threatening to shoot him and for some reason he couldn’t quite grasp he felt like Chris had been mad enough the last time he had seen him to do just that.

‘Oh, God.’ Even thinking hurt, but he had learned to always know what he was getting into before showing his hand. It was vital that he figure out the where, how, and why of the situation before he dare let on to anyone, friend or foe, that he was awake. Fighting the rising nausea, the pounding in his head, and the ache of nearly every other part of his body, he slowly worked his mind through his memory, trying to piece together what had happened.

The smells that assaulted him were all too familiar and it hadn’t taken him long to decide that he was once again encroaching on the kindness and hospitality of the town’s healer. Nathan would likely keep him prisoner for quite a while to come if his current condition was any indication. But, how had he gotten here? Had he been shot during a robbery attempt or shootout? Maybe he’d gotten the shit beaten out of him by five or ten men in a bar fight. Certainly felt that way. Or maybe he had actually made Chris mad enough to…

The last thought brought a flood of images crashing painfully into his head as the missing pieces fell into place. "Ohhh." This time the groan was audible, but it wasn’t just caused by the physical ailments. Memories of his fight with Chris, the angry words that had been said by both, and the outcome of his stupid action of riding out without thought caused a greater pain in his heart than any of his other injuries could have ever inflicted.

"Vin?" Even though the quiet voice he heard above was easily recognizable, the pungent odor of the familiar cologne was a dead give away. Vin chuckled inside, wondering what the ladies’ man would think if he found out where the cologne he had worn for the past two month had really come from.

Buck had met the buxom blond, Miss Mandy, at the saloon in Breckenridge and as a ‘token’ of her affection she had given the cologne to the ladies’ man as a gift. But Vin had been in the saloon early the morning before when the young lady in question had boasted at the discovery of a bag full of toiletries and colognes that had been left behind by one of her customers. She had even given Vin a bottle that was now secured in his wagon, where it was likely to stay.

That good-humored thought was quickly overcome as his surroundings became more apparent. Allowing his eyes to peel open just the smallest crack he noted how dark it was. Or at least he hoped it was just dark. He remembered things being fuzzy before. Shapes and shadows mostly. Voices. Smells. The cabin?!

Buck wasn’t sure what had roused him, but noticing the slight movement of Vin’s mouth had him instantly awake. The quietly spoken name hadn’t produced any further movement and he was beginning to think he had dreamed the whole thing when the body on the bed jerked like it had been shaken and the blue eyes flew open.

"Help… them." The raspy voice was a rough whisper. The words were interrupted by quiet gasps. Vin had to make Buck understand. He had left the boy all alone. The woman and her son might need help with her husband still away. "You’ve… got ta… make sure…" Buck was pushing a cup of water in his face and he pushed it away. "No… got ta… be sure… they’re… alright."

Buck was certain that his friend was once more lost in delirium, completely unsure of his surroundings. "It’s okay, Vin. We’ll make sure. You just rest now. Here." Trying once again with the cup of water. "You need to drink this."

"No. Are… they… okay?"

Even though Vin could only make out a blurry shadow above him, he knew without a doubt that it was Buck. Vin grabbed at the wavering hands nearby and it was all Buck could do to keep from dumping the entire contents of the cup on the younger man.

"The fellas are fine." The breathless whispers pained Buck to even hear, but the searching eyes that never actually met his sent a stab of fear straight through him. It wasn’t just the fear and panic he could read clearly that raised his alarm. It was the lost look, lack of true focus, and the slim rim of blue around the overly large irises. ‘Oh God, he can’t even see me!’ Buck swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and tried to refocus his mind. ‘Get it together, Wilmington. First things first.’

"Come on now, just take some of this water. You’ve got to be about bone dry." Buck tried to keep his voice even, steady, reassuring, all the while his mind was screaming. ‘What if he’s blind? What with the head wound and the fever… And talking out of his head?’

Vin took a small sip of the water and tried clearing his throat, which hurt like hell as ripples of pain coursed throughout his body. ‘Mental note to self, don’t do that again!’

"No… the mother… her son...." Pleading blue eyes searched the shadows above for some reassurance. Surely when they had found him they would have made sure the two people who had watched after him were taken care of. Unless something had happened while he was out of it.

Slowly, between sentences, Buck was managing to get some water into the sweat soaked body. Hair, dark and matted with sweat, clung to the sides of Vin’s face and neck, the ends curling into small ringlets. Only half listening to Vin’s ramblings, the big man concentrated on getting the precious liquid into him and then hopefully following it up with some of the medicinal tea that had been kept warming on the stove.

"When… ya found… me? She looked… after me… real good. Woulda died… without… her." The breaths were hard to draw in as the fire in his left side flared. "Her husband… away. They’s… all alone. He’s just… a little… feller."

"Don’t you worry about a thing. Just relax." Of all the other times when Vin had awakened his speech hadn’t been as clear. Though he was breathless, the words were understandable. It was the subject that had Buck so confused. It was like he was remembering something that might have happened long before and confusing it with now. But of course a fever could do that.

"Were… were they… okay?"

Not wanting to upset the ill man and glancing up at Chris’s form, which still looked relaxed in the hold of sleep, he quietly tried to reason with the tracker. "You were alone when we found you. Don’tcha remember? You fell down the side of the mountain and must have crawled to the cave where we found ya."

"No… left… the cave. Found… found a… cabin." The blue eyes lost some of their intense focus as he drew upon the recollections he had of his time with the young mother and her son, his voice becoming a touch stronger. "It was… small place… two… maybe three rooms… I think. Warm… cozy… smelled of… spiced cider… ‘n pine."

He was forgetting something important. It was so close and yet just short of his grasp. Why was everything still so hazy? "She was… Her name was…"

"It’s okay, pard. Plenty of time to worry about such things later. Right now just drink some of this tea for me." Buck was beginning to wish Chris would awaken and a touch worried that he hadn’t already. Any other time Vin could just breathe heavy and the gunslinger would have been by the tracker’s side in an instant. Now here the boy was, lost in some delirium, and the only man who ever seemed to be able to get through to him was dead to the world. Maybe that knock to Chris’s head was beginning to take its toll. The ladies’ man made a mental note to check on his old friend as soon as he got the young one settled down.

"Just a bit more now." Luckily Vin was at least taking in some liquids, but still, it might not be enough. Buck recalled when one of his mother’s friends had been lost to fever.

He hadn’t been much more than fourteen, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday. His mother had taken the young girl under her wing from her first days of employment and tried to help her through the rough beginnings. A fast friendship had formed and Buck had seen the new addition to his world as an older sister. One night, a little over a year later, a particularly rough customer used a knife on the girl. Though the cut hadn’t seemed too bad and she had been fixed up and sent back to work, infection had set in and two days later she was dead. Buck had tried to help his ma by bringing in fresh water and rags as she had battled the young girl’s fever. Of course they hadn’t had Nathan or any other healer then or he was certain the outcome might have been a lot different.

Well, they had Nathan now. And with his noxious teas and skilled hands, Buck prayed that this time it would be different.

Lost in his own memories, he was brought back to the present by a slight tug on his sleeve. He looked down at Vin, whose face was clouded with concern.

"They’s all right? Ain’t they?" The tea seemed to have eased Vin’s breathing some and his sentences came more fluidly though he still stopped to regain his strength between each one. Once again the wide blue eyes seemed to fade to another time and place, only making Buck’s theory of fever induced delirium seem more plausible.

"Don’t remember the boy’s name… not sure she said. Couldn’t see her too good. But she had the purttiest voice. Like an angel. Think she might a been from somewhere’s else. Reminded me of a feller I met once from some place called Ireland."

Vin’s brow furrowed as another memory filtered in, but the tea was beginning to do its job and he yawned despite the gnawing need to stay awake and remember. As his eyelids grew heavy and the tension slowly seeped from his body, his last words stripped every ounce of color from Buck’s face.

"Lizbeth. Her name’s Lizbeth. And she called the boy… Laddie, that’s what she called him. Lizbeth called him laddie." The words faded away as sleep claimed him, but they echoed loudly in Buck’s mind.

Buck felt a cold chill run down his spine and the hair on his arms stood on end. How he kept hold of the cup in his hand was anyone’s guess. No way. There was no way Vin could know that. Looking up to the other cot, he did drop the cup and it clattered noisily to the floor as two shocked green eyes met his. Chris had heard it all.