Six men sat around the table in quiet discussion, their serious expressions warning away any would be intruders. They had maybe twelve hours until daybreak, less than half of that to pull together a plan. Josiah and Nathan had thrown out a few ideas, while Buck and JD espoused the "lets just ride in and get him" theory.

Chris listened intently, but failed to keep his mind on the conversation around him. He’d stopped questioning Vin’s actions or motives, knowing that the tracker would do anything to protect him. He knew, because he would do the same. If some bounty hunters had mistaken him for Vin, he’d go along with it, just to keep them away from his friend. What was it Vin had said? "Guess you don’t know me at all"? He knew now that nothing could be further from the truth. He knew him far too well, and he knew that if push came to shove, Vin would go all the way for him – give up his life for him. How could he ever have let something so trivial as Tanner’s inability to read come between them?

Buck was speaking more forcefully, "I’m tellin’ you, all we gotta do is head on up to that mine now, catch ‘em before they’re ready for us. We wait til mornin’ and Vin’s as good as dead."

"I’m not so sure, Buck. Remember, we have no idea how many men we’re up against. If they’re held up in that mine, we’re going to have one hell of a time getting in without someone getting hurt," Josiah reasoned.

"I agree with Josiah, we need to plan this out real careful," Nathan added.

"What about the ransom? How we gonna come up with five hundred dollars?" JD asked.

No one answered for long moments. Even if they had the money, Chris was sure they’d kill Vin anyway. The twisted irony of it all was that, if they just took their hostage further east, they could turn him in for the same amount of money - and get it legally.

Ezra had remained still, but felt the time had come for him to make his move. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out his cash and casually counted out five hundred dollars. Laying the money on the center of the table, he said nothing.

The other men stared at the gambler in wide-eyed wonder. They knew he’d been doing quite well lately, but none expected him to have that kind of cash on him. And certainly none expected him to offer it up so freely, as was apparent by all of their expressions.

"What?" he asked. Surely they didn’t think he would sit by and do nothing when he had the ransom secured in his boot? Honestly, did they really think money mattered more to him than a friend? What had he ever done to give them that impression? He cringed when he thought of the several things he’d done that might lead to precisely that conclusion. Fortunately, he was now in the position to remedy their opinions of him. More importantly, he was in the position to aid in Vin’s safe return.

Chris offered a brief smile as he shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, Ezra, but it won’t work. They’ll never let Vin walk away when this is over."

"Perhaps not, Mr.Larabee, but I, for one, could not rest if I thought we did not do everything within our power to effect Mr. Tanner’s release. As has already been noted, we don’t know what we’re up against, and we’d be wise to consider all options."

Chris thought for several moments before nodding, "All right." With a heavy sigh, he continued, "Reckon we don’t have much choice, at least until we see what we’re dealing with. I’ll take the ransom and make the exchange. You boys stand by and make your move once we have Vin back."

"Don’t think that’s wise, Chris. You’re the one they’re after. They’re bound to recognize their mistake once they lay eyes on you. Better to let one of us take it," Josiah argued. He was certain the money was not the only issue here. Undoubtedly, Larabee had become the target for more reasons than one. Getting Vin back was iffy. Throwing Chris out in front was just plain stupid. They could lose both men far too easily.

"I seem to recall, Gentlemen, that the note specifically asked that I take the ransom to the designated meeting place," Ezra reminded the group.

"Ain’t arguing about this, Ezra. Ain’t arguing with any of you. Vin’s in this because of me, and I’m not putting the rest of you in any more danger than necessary. All they want is the money, they ain’t gonna care who brings it." Chris had yet to figure out if the kidnappers were part of his past, or just bargaining on the notoriety of his reputation. Either way, one friend suffering as a result of his previous lifestyle was more than enough.

"I’m not so sure, Chris. Seems to me, they’re looking for Ezra. You showing up will just make them suspicious. No reason to show our hand before we’re ready. You can do Vin a lot more good if you keep out of sight," Josiah reasoned.

Chris said nothing as he looked down into the drink he’d yet to take a sip of. He didn’t like it, but he supposed it made some sense. He turned his gaze to Standish, who gave him a slight nod. The man was willing to put it all on the line for Vin, and he couldn’t ask for more than that. Chris nodded back, accepting the unspoken promise with unspoken gratitude.

JD found himself having a hard time believing any of this. It seemed that they were putting an awful lot of faith in a poorly written note and a backward ‘b’. When the doors to the saloon swung open forcefully, he half expected Vin to come strolling in. He hid his disappointment when he saw that it was only Chester, the oldest man in town – or maybe the whole territory by the looks of him – and voiced his doubts.

"How do we know anybody really has Vin? He could just be off somewhere by himself, licking his wounds after that fight with Chris."

"JD!" Buck growled menacingly. Here he thought he’d been making progress with the kid and his mouth, and then he goes and says something stupid like that.

"What? I . . . ow!" The youth’s sentence was abruptly cut off by Buck’s boot hitting his shin. JD gave the rogue his best "what did I do now?" expression, and received Buck’s best "just shut up" glare in return.

But if Chris minded, he didn’t show it. He merely responded to the young man’s original question. "They’ve got him," he said with certainty. "And we’re getting him back."

Chester had made his way over to the table by then and looked expectantly from man to man, his faded brown eyes nearly dancing with excitement. Normally, Chris had the patience of a saint with the old man, listening to him prattle on for hours about the old days while the gunslinger whittled and gave an occasional nod. But now was not a good time, and he didn’t have to say a word for Josiah to take the hint.

The tall preacher stood and placed a gentle hand on the frail man’s arm. "What y’ need, Chester?"

"Don’t need nothin’. I’m here to help you boys. I hear y’all got some action goin’ on up at the old mine." The ancient codger had lost his teeth long ago, but his wide grin still lit up his wrinkled face.

"Yeah, that’s right. But I reckon we can handle it without your help," Josiah responded smoothly as he attempted to turn the withered figure away.

"Although we certainly appreciate the offer of assistance, Chester." Ezra added. He was fond of the old guy, though he’d never admit it, and he even let him win a hand now and then just to see his eyes spark.

But Chester would not be dissuaded so easily. "Now hold on here. I got information that could help you fellas. I worked that mine fer near ten years." He could see by the gunman’s face that he’d finally gotten his attention.

"Sit down, Chester," Chris offered softly. "Tell us what you know."

The old man cackled as he took a seat by the man in black. He’d been hoping to get in on one of the seven’s adventures ever since they came to town, and now was his chance.

"Well y’ see, there’s one main shaft, and all kinds of tunnels shootin’ off of it. A man could get real lost down there, likely never find his way out if he don’t know where he’s goin’. I could draw y’all a map, if y’ think that would help?"

Chris nodded as he spoke, "That would help a lot. Thank you, Chester." He thought of the dark, confined spaces that the miners endured, and then of his best friend. Vin would be going crazy. He remembered an occasion where he and the tracker had had to ride out a particularly rough storm in a particularly cramped little cave. Tanner had acted like a caged animal, restless and irritable and – if Larabee hadn’t known better – panicky. If they had Vin hidden in one of those shafts, the peacekeepers would have a difficult time finding him, and that was assuming they could make their way into the entrance at all.

"Chester, is there another entrance to the mine? Maybe a back way in?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Larabee. Main shaft goes all the way through. It’s a good, long walk, though."

Chris nodded as a plan began formulating in the back of his brain. As unlikely as it seemed, Chester’s help had given them a better shot at getting their sharpshooter back. But his relief was short-lived when he thought again of the hell his friend may be enduring on his behalf. And all because he’d acted so stupidly yesterday. If only he could take back his harsh words and tell Tanner how he really felt. The stern gunslinger quickly reined in his wandering thoughts. He’d played this game in the past, enough times to know he could never win.

Refocusing his concentration, he watched as the thin, feeble hands etched out a crude map of Vin’s apparent prison. The old man was right - a man could get lost in the maze. Chris was astounded that Chester could still remember every twist and turn, but he didn’t doubt him. His body had shriveled into a shell of its former self, but his mind remained true. The blond realized the elder was quaking with excitement, the power of being needed and respected again nearly overwhelming him. When at last he finished, he took one long, crooked finger and traced his way along the path from the entrance to the exit.

"These here are the only ways in and the only ways out," he informed them, lest they had any doubts. "You cover them two holes, and they ain’t goin’ nowhere."

Trapping the outlaws in the mountain of rock appeared to be the best idea. Then Chris turned to his right, where Vin should have been standing, and felt the sick feeling return to his stomach. Unfortunately, Vin would be trapped with them.

They’d need a different plan.

+++++++

The inky blackness consumed every sense and every thought. He fought back the familiar panic that threatened to drown him, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he’d first awakened, he’d thought he was blind. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure. He’d regained consciousness after what could have been hours or minutes; to find himself in a deep darkness like he had never known. Maybe he wasn’t really awake after all, he’d told himself, but the burning in his thigh and the hammering in his head spoke differently. He’d been knocked pretty hard in the head, and that was when it occurred to him that he might be blind. He’d seen that happen to other unfortunate souls.

Then he remembered the mine. He must be inside, and that thought panicked him even more than the idea that he could not see. He didn’t know why small, dark spaces bothered him so much. Probably sometime, somewhere, something had happened to him that he’d long since stuffed away in the back of his mind. But he wasn’t the type to dwell on the past – there always seemed to be too much going on in the here and now. And here and now, he was a prisoner in absolutely the most terrible place he could imagine. He struggled then to release his bonds, realizing his arms were still tied behind his back. The rope that tied his chest to a beam tightened as he frantically attempted to maneuver his hands into a more manageable position. He had to get out.

The struggle left him breathless and lightheaded. The pounding in his head sent waves of pain throughout his entire body, and he fought hard to swallow the nausea that followed. He told himself to calm down, to take a breath, to think. He’d been in tough situations before, and he could handle this. He just needed to hold on until the boys came for him.

They would come, provided they had figured out that he was in trouble. Chris would rip the mountain apart looking for him. He knew because he would do the same for him. How could he have let something so dumb come between them? Why hadn’t he just told the blond in the beginning? What was it Chris had said? "You’re too dumb or too proud to trust me with this" . . . "trust me with this". Damn, Larabee was taking this personally. And the gunslinger was right – he had let his pride get in the way. Somehow, somewhere along the way, the respect of his friends had become the most important thing in is life – had, in fact, given his life new meaning. But he was afraid his weakness would change that. Vin Tanner, the man who never cared what others thought of him or how he lived his life, suddenly cared a whole lot about what six other men thought of him. And as much as he’d tried to deny it, he cared most of all what Chris Larabee thought of him.

Aw hell, he was thinking too much – getting downright maudlin. Then again, what else did he have to do? He kept his eyes closed, finding it easier to not see the darkness. He wished he’d been able to read the note so that at least he’d have some idea when this ransom thing was taking place. It could be a day or a week for all he knew. No, not a week - he could never last that long. Neither could Roy, strung up tight like he was. His captors would want this over with, too. So all he had to do was wait.

Alone. In the dark. Oh God.

He felt his heart pound ferociously as the air seemed to leave his lungs. He gasped, and groaned at the pain that flared in his ribs. When had that happened? The dizziness and nausea returned, and he found himself wishing he could pass out. But his body refused to cooperate with even that small request, and he was doomed to remain awake, lucid, in pain, and afraid. Trapped.

+++++++

Jeb limped through the darkened caverns, the lantern swinging at his side shedding just enough light to cast eerie shadows on the stone walls. Fearing that he’d forgotten just where he’d put their prisoner, he quickened his pace, as much as his sore knee would allow. He turned the corner and breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of harsh breathing that cut through the intense stillness of the dark prison. He knew that sound – the sound of fear. He couldn’t blame the gunfighter, though, God knows he couldn’t stand it in this black hole for long. Felt like being buried alive, and the quicker he got out of here, the better.

He didn’t much care how Larabee was fairing, as long as he lived long enough for the brothers to collect their money in the morning. Lifting the lantern up just high enough to see his captive’s bruised face, he aimed a swift kick at the injured man’s bloody thigh. The sorer he became from his tumble down the mountainside, the more his blood boiled. It was a good thing Roy had shown up when he had, or he’d never have been able to carry Larabee up the hill and into the mine. He would like to just kill the gunman now, but he’d have to settle for making him miserable. He was gratified to see it worked, judging by the groan that escaped his prisoner’s lips.

Vin cursed that very groan, knowing the pleasure it gave his tormentor. But he embraced the light, insufficient though it was in the consuming blackness. At least he knew he was not blind. He squinted into the soft glare of the oil lamp, his eyelids fluttering as he adjusted to the dim light. Jeb looked like a coiled rattler – ready to strike at any moment, and he wisely bit back the smart remark he intended to make. He needed to be in good enough shape to make a run for it when the boys came. His leg would be a nuisance, but he could ignore it for as long as he had to. He was feeling a bit woozy, though, probably lost some blood, but he wouldn’t let that slow him down either. When the time came, he’d do whatever it took to make it out of this hell.

"Time’s comin’, Larabee. Time’s comin’ when you’ll be sorry you ever messed with my family." Jeb spoke menacingly in a low whisper.

Vin was thinking he was already sorry that Chris had messed with this family, but he decided he might like to know exactly what he was suffering for. He tried to clear his dry throat, wondering vaguely when he’d last had a drink of water, and asked hoarsely, "Y’ mind filling me in on just what I did t’ yer pa?"

The thought that his father’s death held so little meaning for the gunslinger enraged the outlaw. He aimed another kick at the battered prisoner, and immediately regretted it as pain flared in his injured knee.

The tracker knew what was coming this time, and managed to stifle his groan. These men seemed to have an obsession with kicking, he decided. He wondered if either one of them could throw a decent punch, and determined he would find out when this was over. That is, if Chris didn’t blow them away before he got the chance.

A far away look came into Jeb’s eyes as he thought of the events of a decade before. Almost without thinking, he spoke out loud, "Its been near ten years now that my pa went lookin’ to sell his cattle to a man named Larson. ‘Member ‘im?"

Vin said nothing, remembering he was being Chris Larabee now. The less he said, the less likely he’d make a mistake.

Jeb continued, "You worked fer ‘im. He tried to cheat my pa out of his rightful share, and when things got ugly, you shot ‘im. Just like that. I was standin’ there watchin’. Wasn’t much more than a kid then."

Chris wouldn’t kill a man in front of his son without a good reason. And though he spoke for Chris, he knew that his words spoke for himself, as well. "I ain’t never killed a man who didn’t ask for it, one way or another. Ain’t never killed an innocent man."

Jeb scoffed. "Sure y’ haven’t. I swore you were gonna pay with yer life, and you will come sun-up. Yer friends will pay, too – that’s if they think yer worth the five hundred. How ‘bout it, Larabee? You think yer worth it?"

Vin didn’t answer. Chris Larabee was worth a hell of lot more than five hundred dollars. He was worth his life, in fact. For he knew - if push came to shove – he would give it up for his best friend.

Now that the subject of his father had been broached, Jeb sorely wanted to inflict more punishment on the murderer. But in the hazy light, he could see that the man looked bad enough. With hatred evident in his tone, he turned away from Vin and muttered, "Til mornin’ then."

Vin watched the man shuffle away, taking the precious light with him. The demons in his mind grew with the return of the blackness, and he sought to dispel them with thoughts of his friends. JD’s exuberant smile, Buck’s hearty laugh, Nathan’s gentle touch, Ezra’s quick wit, and Josiah’s soothing voice all brought him a measure of peace. And when that wasn’t enough, he thought of Chris.

He never could understand why the gunslinger had offered to go to Tascosa with him only a few weeks after they’d met. He’d never had anyone care about his problems, much less offer to help him fix them. He never understood why he trusted the gunslinger so completely so quickly, either. It seemed from the moment they met, that they had an understanding, a shared sense of destiny. His feelings for Chris had only grown since then.

Feelings? Now where did that come from? Feelings seemed like an awful strong word – the kind of word you didn’t use when you were talking about a pard. But the truth was, he had a whole bunch of feelings where the gunman was concerned, and one of those was feeling real bad about walking out on Chris. He hoped those weren’t the last words they would share. Then again, he and Larabee often didn’t need words to "talk". Maybe the blond could hear him now, if he worked on it hard enough. Maybe he’d know how scared and hurt and alone he was feeling.

As his body finally gave in to exhaustion, his last thought was that Chris did know. And come morning, he’d move heaven and earth to get him back.

+++++++

Chris turned abruptly as a strong gust of wind blew through his open window. He’d gone to his room to gather some supplies before meeting his men at the livery. If he’d been a suspicious man, he’d have been sure a message had been blown his way via the breeze. He’d been tossing around the idea in his head for hours now that Vin might already be dead. But with the draft had come a sure sense of the tracker, almost like he was a hound dog who had picked up the scent of the man. Vin was alive. And as sure as he was of that fact, he was equally sure that his friend was hurt and afraid in the old, dark mine.

Chris made his way over to the window, and allowed the night air to blow through his hair. He hoped that somehow his friend could hear his thoughts – that somehow Vin knew he was coming for him. And he’d move heaven and a whole mountain of earth to find him.

+++++++

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