"Likewise, I am sure."  Then, continuing after a pause, "Nathan is a fine name, represents one of character and integrity."

"I don't know about that.  Mine's short for Nathaniel.  Mama said she had a friend who was a writer, that's where she picked the name from.  She said he was good at recognizing that people aren't just about what's on the outside."

"Your mother sounds as if she lacked neither character nor integrity."

"She was good," came the simple reply.  " 'Night, Mr. Standish."

"Good night, Mr. Norwich."

Ezra rested his head against the wall of his cell and closed his eyes, listening to the crickets.  He wondered what time it was, wondered about Fate's dealings with the young man in the room next to him and he wondered, with all the optimism he could muster, what state of affairs Vin Tanner was in.
---

Vin wondered how Ezra was holding up.  He had waited patiently in the dark and watched through his glass as Craft sewed up the bullet wound in his partner's arm.  Tanner's desire to see the men left for coyote bait grew as Rueben poured what Vin suspected was some of Ezra's good whiskey on the wound before passing the flask back to Grey to pull off of.

And an hour after the two hunters finally retired to the cover of the shabby structure near the town of Los Partas, Vin Tanner stopped waiting.
---

The lean figure eased carefully along the side of the old jailhouse and peered through the open square that acted as a window to the right of the thick wood door.  He could just barely make out two other solid-looking portals behind the figures that lay sleeping on the floor.

Moving with a practiced silence, Vin pulled himself through the window and eased his feet to the dirt floor.  He listened to the rhythmic breathing patterns and, satisfied that both men were still blissfully unaware of his presence, pulled his Mare's leg from his side.

The practices and instincts that Vin had built up during his own time as a bounty hunter made him shake his head at how lax Craft and Grey were.  Each of their rifles and sidearms had been placed with their saddlebags against one wall of the open room.  They slept simultaneously, though there were two of them.  They either hadn't been hunters very long and were stupid or they had been doing it too long and had gotten careless.

Vin moved smoothly as he transferred each of the weapons from their resting spot to a much less convenient location on the ground outside the window.  All the while monitoring closely for any changes in the steady breathing.
 

In Hamilton's dream he was a boy, lying near the pond on his grandparent's property and his brother was poking him in the head with a stick.  But when he opened his eyes it wasn't his brother that he saw and it sure as hell wasn't a piece of wood hovering inches from his skull.

It took several seconds for his brain to take in the figure that stood over him.  And when it finished processing the information it vocalized its conclusion in one word.

"Shit."

Vin could see in what little moonlight there was filling the room that the man's eyes were huge.  Half from a natural reaction to allow the pupils to gather as much light as possible and half from a natural reaction that occurred when someone was standing at your head with a sawed-off Winchester rifle nearly resting on your scalp.

"Wake him up."  Vin's voice was only slightly softer than usual.

Grey didn't move, just called out to his partner.  "Craft?  Craft. Wake up.  Rueben!"

"Wha-, wha's yur prob-"  But he stopped as soon as he saw what the problem was.

Rueben was on Grey's left side and Vin was on his right, standing just far enough out of reach to avoid any easy contact but definitely close enough to make the threat of his Mare's leg very real.

Vin kept his eyes and weapon locked on Grey but spoke to the redheaded man.  "Well, now, Rueben, you're gonna do me a little favor.  Movin' real slow, you're gonna get my friend on this side of which ever one a' those doors you got him behind and then you're gonna have a seat against that wall."

Craft wasn't sure who he was more pissed at; this little shit from the alley for not having the sense to leave well enough alone, or himself for not killing the little shit from the alley when he had the chance.  But he bit back his anger and rose slowly from his bedroll.

Retrieving the keys from a nail on the wall he crossed to the closest door.  Unlocking it, he pushed the door open and stood back to reveal a rather weary, somewhat dirty, very relieved southerner.
 

When Ezra heard the crickets around the building cease their chirping his eyes snapped open.  And when his ears picked up the slight sound of movement coming from the other side of the door he couldn't prevent his heartbeat from increasing.  But the one word curse and the soft western drawl that followed made Standish want to have a first born son just so he could name it Vin.

After the door opened Ezra waited for Craft to move to his requested seated position against the wall before exiting his cell.

Vin risked a glance at the gambler. "Ya alright?"

Standish met the tracker's blue eyes and let a slight smile show, "Decidedly better."

Tanner turned his attention back to the hunters and spoke again to his friend, "Then what say we leave these boys to their sleep."

Ezra paused briefly, "Give me a moment."  He offered no explanation, just pulled the rusty keys from the lock in the door behind him and moved to the second cell.  Unlocking it, he tugged against reluctant hinges and called in, "Mr. Norwich, are you able to ride?"

The boy had heard the sounds and voices and was standing near the door when Standish opened it.  He wasn't sure what was going on, but didn't mind waiting to ask.  He just nodded his head and followed the well-dressed southerner to the main room of the jailhouse.

Grey had remained silent and relatively motionless the whole time but when he realized that six hundred and fifty dollars was about to slip right through his fingers he decided it was time to do something.  When Vin had looked to Ezra to check on him, Hamilton slid a hand under the jacket that was his makeshift pillow and grasped the hilt of his bowie knife.

The hunter waited until Tanner's attention was pulled away again at the sight of the second prisoner and made his move.  Rolling toward Vin, Grey hit the tracker at his shins.  The force knocked the lean man back into the wall behind him and a bright flash and the thunder of Vin's Winchester as it discharged filled the room.

When Vin noticed the second figure with Ezra his eyes flicked from the two men on the floor.  The blow that caught him below the knees caused him to tip forward slightly before careening backwards.  His muscles tightened and as they did he involuntarily fire his weapon.  His head thudded hard against the jailhouse wall and the little white stars that dotted the blackness of Tanner's vision blinded him for several seconds.

Grey moved quickly despite his stocky frame; scrambling to his feet he lunged for the stunned figure that still held the sawed-off rifle.  Ezra's eyes caught the movement of the man on the floor by Vin's feet as soon as Hamilton rolled himself sideways.  Unfortunately, it also put his line of vision directly at the end of the Mare's leg as it went off.

The gambler saw a bright white fill the room and some part of his brain calmly thought about how long the flash was lasting.  He was totally unaware of the man with the knife that had just risen to stand between him and Tanner.

But Nathan wasn't.  He saw the man responsible for his bruised eye and lacerated cheek and saw that same man going for one of the individuals responsible for his release.  Norwich bolted forward.  Grey's attention was on Vin, consequently he didn't expect an attack from the right.

Nathan grabbed Hamilton's right wrist and allowed the momentum of his rushed tackle to carry them both back, tumbling to the floor.

Vin shook his head to clear his vision and saw Grey and the smaller man that Ezra had release wrestling on the floor in the middle of the room.  The tracker was about to step in when he heard a loud grunt and a sharp exhale of air.  For several seconds a tense silence took over the room.

Then, the sudden scramble of Nathan attempting to put as much distance between himself and the man on he floor broke the eerie calm.

After the crack of the rifle and the white flash that had accompanied it, Ezra stumbled back till his shoulders met with the unyielding wood of the cell door behind him.  He sensed Nathan rush forward and heard a struggle of some sort; but even as the room fell silent Standish was still unable to clear the blinding stars from his vision.

He heard someone move quickly across the dirt floor, then rapid, shallow breathing, followed an instant later by what the gambler assumed to be the same person vomiting.

"Vin?"

Tanner responded with the same words he had directed toward Ezra less than two minutes earlier.  "Ya alright?"

"I believe I would be better if I hadn't been staring at your Winchester when it went off."

It took Vin a moment but as he watched Ezra blink hard several times and hold his hand inches from his face before lowering it with a disgusted wince the tracker realized what Standish was talking about.

"Can ya see anything?"

"You mean besides the large white sparklers?"

Ezra heard Vin curse softly and holster his weapon, "Give it a bit, it should pass."

"Should?" drawled the southerner sarcastically, relaxing against the door at his back, "What did I miss?"  He could still hear distressed breathing across the room, though it was softer now and accompanied by an occasional sniffle.

Vin moved through the moonlit room till he found Grey's lantern and the box of matches next to it.  Lighting the lamp he surveyed the scene and cursed again.

Ezra's white vision was starting to make him very uncomfortable and he worked to keep the tension from being apparent.

"Vin?"

He could hear the tracker moving around the room.  "Well, 'Mr. Tanner', it don't look like you're gonna have to be worryin' about makin' any unplanned trips to Texas anytime soon.  You may have caught the flash but ol' Rueben here caught the other part, mostly with his face."

For a second Ezra was thankful he couldn't see.  "And the other?"

"No luckier, got a knife stickin' out of his chest.  Guess I owe you a thanks for that one."  The latter comment was directed away from Ezra, to the pale figure still sitting with his back against the front door of the jailhouse.

Standish suddenly realized the boy had yet to say a word.  "Mr. Norwich?"

The reply was soft and distant, "I wasn't trying to kill him.  He had the knife…we fell back…he.."

Vin's own quiet voice cut in, close to the boy's.  " 's alright, son.  It was an accident."

"The judge isn't gonna believe that!"  The young man's voice rose in pitch and Ezra could hear the frantic edge.

Standish interrupted with his own gentle drawl, "That, of course, is assumin' a judge were to even become aware of the incident."

Ezra sensed that both Vin and the young man were waiting to hear what else he had to say.  "My suggestion is that we gather ourselves together and ride back to Los Partas where, after a night's sleep, I shall inform the deputy of this evenin's events."

Norwich began to stammer, "He's just gonna…"

The gambler cut him off, "He will believe exactly what I tell him."  He paused for a second, feeling awkward being unable to see who he was speaking to.  "Perhaps I should enlighten you as to your present company, Mr. Norwich.  Mr. Tanner and I are two of the circuit court judge appointed peacekeepers for the town of Four Corners.

"We conducted a prisoner here for transfer.  Through a series of misunderstandin's the two…gentlemen here, mistook me for a man wanted in Tuscosa.  My partner attempted to liberate me which ended in the recent unfortunate events and, through no small fault of their own, the demise of Misters Grey and Craft."

"I'm sure Deputy McColm will have no reservations releasin' their prisoner to two upstandin' representatives of this area's law enforcement once I assure him that we will escort you the rest of the way to Texas."

"Ezra?"  Vin's voice rose in a warning tone.  He wasn't sure what the gambler had planned but he was pretty damned certain he wasn't going to like it.

"Forgive me, Mr. Tanner.  Did I neglect to mention that we would be makin' our way to Tuscosa by way of Four Corners?  However, once there, I'm sure there would be numerous responsibilities which would require our attention, Vin.  Why, who knows when we would have the opportunity to get to Texas."

The young voice by the door stuttered a reply, "You're not taking me in?"

"I don't see where that is our responsibility, Mr. Norwich."

Vin spoke up, "Hey, kid, how 'bout if you saddle up a couple of them horses out there, think you could do that for me?"

Ezra heard the boy rise and the heavy door open, "Yeah, sure, no problem."

Vin waited until the door closed and the boy was around the corner.  "Ezra, you best know what you're doin'."

Standish was now more than a little edgy in the wake of his flash blindness and he exercised every bit of gambler's restraint he possessed to maintain a calm façade.  "Mr. Tanner?"

"Don't gimme that."  Ezra sensed Vin cross to him, "That boy is wanted."

The southerner was not in any mood to be second guessed, "How very observant of you. What was your first clue?"

"He's just a kid, Ezra. I don't know what angle you're seein' here-"

Standish exploded, "Oh, that is rich! To be perfectly honest, Mr. Tanner, I'm not seein' much of anythin' at the moment!  And as far as an 'angle', I'm sure that it never occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, I was attemptin' to offer that boy a second chance."

"A second chance is one thing but do you even know what he did?"

"He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  I would think that you, Mr. Tanner, could understand how that could conceivably occur."

The words struck Vin like a slap.  For an instant he was angry that Standish would compare this boy's situation to his.  Tanner had been set up, Ezra knew that.  So why did Vin feel so defensive?  Was it maybe not the other man's words that irritated him, was it maybe his own?

Why had he automatically assumed that Ezra had been out for his own gains?  And why was he so quick to question whether or not Standish would be a good judge of character?  Hell, if any of his friends could be relied upon for accurate intuition it was this gambler. If it had been Chris standing before him, Tanner never would have said what he did.

A severe claustrophobic feeling suddenly engulfed Standish and without thinking he attempted to put some distance between himself and Vin.

But the white sparklers that still pervaded his vision sent him on another course.  Unable to see the prone form of Grey lying on the dirt floor, Ezra took two steps before stumbling, falling forward over the corpse.

Standish spat a curse as he threw himself off the body.  Vin was at his side in a second, laying a hand on Ezra's arm.

"Take it easy."

Standish violently shrugged off the assistance.  "I'm fine!"

Tanner remained in a crouch near the southerner but gave the other man a moment to get his bearings before speaking again.  "Sorry."

Ezra swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes, his voice was soft and Vin could tell that the southerner was desperately trying to keep his emotions from surfacing.  "I can't see."

Vin took a chance and rested a hand on his friend's shoulder, responding in an equally quiet tone.

"It'll pass. Trust me."

Ezra let slip a breathy laugh, "Well, with an argument as eloquently stated as that, how could I not?"

The tracker pulled Standish to his feet as the gambler spoke again.  "Although, I could use some assistance in reaquirin'-"

But Vin anticipated the request and finished Ezra's sentence. "Your flask."

"There should also be a pocket watch, pistols and a fair amount of cash, as well."

Vin guided his friend to the door, pausing a second before he opened it.  "A second chance, huh?"

"Less deservin' people than that boy have received such opportunities."

Ezra could just picture that damned slow grin ease across Tanner's face.  "Now, I wouldn't say less deservin'.  More stubborn maybe…"
 

Once outside, Vin led his friend to where Nathan was saddling two of the horses.  The tracker sensed Ezra's unease at the need for assistance and the close physical contact but Vin was surprised by Standish's effort to accept help.

Tanner helped Nathan finish readying their mounts before conducting the satisfying task of retrieving Ezra's misappropriated belongings.  With Vin riding bareback and leading Standish's horse by the reins, the three men headed to pick up Peso.

Though in the shadows of the night he appeared as no more than a dark silhouette, the tracker's dark brown Quarterhorse responded clearly when Tanner clicked a greeting.  Vin passed off the reins of the bareback to Norwich before taking a place in Peso's saddle, but he maintained control of Ezra's mount.

As they made their way along the wide road back to Los Partas Nathan worked over in his mind the events of the previous hours.  He tried to figure out why two lawmen were not only offering him his freedom but actually seemed to believe that he truly wasn't deserving of the bounty that had been put out for him.  He finally gave in.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Well, it would have been very poor manners to have left you locked in that cell all evenin'."

Tanner knew what the boy had meant and he also knew Standish well enough to know that the gambler would never admit his real intentions to the young man.  So Vin did it for him.

"Ezra's pretty darn good at readin' people, kid.  If he thinks that maybe you got dealt a bad hand, well, I'm willin' to believe that maybe he's right."

Norwich looked at the tracker and tried to decipher some expression in the pale light of the half moon.  "You don't even know why I was wanted?"

Vin smiled slightly and answered, not looking at the boy, "Were in the wrong place at the wrong time, is what I heard."

Nathan couldn't help but laugh at the simplistic summary of the events that had led up to his incarceration.  He felt an odd sense of trust with these men, hell, probably because they were the first people since his parents died who had showed a genuine interest in his well being.  And who didn't seem to want anything from him.

By the time they reached the Los Partas livery stable Norwich had told the two peacekeepers of his life over the past year.  They had asked no questions, passed no judgement, just listened and seemed to understand completely how easy it was for someone to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
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