"Come in."

U.S. Marshal Chris Larabee took a deep breath in an attempt to stifle his nervousness and reached for the doorknob. It wasn't everyday that an ex-federal judge asked him to travel over a thousand miles from his home in Denver to discuss a job opportunity. Normally, Chris wouldn't even have considered it, but Travis was one of the few men that Chris liked and respected. Up until his retirement from the bench three years ago, "Death Row" Travis was one of the toughest judges Chris had ever met. His strict adherence to the law had garnered respect and admiration from the men and women of law enforcement that put their lives on the line to get the criminals to his court. It had also made him enemies with the criminal element that couldn't bribe the honest man. Chris had come to the man's attention when he had saved Travis' life more than five years before. 

When Travis had refused a drug-kingpin's 'request' that his case be dropped, the defendant had placed a contract out on Travis' life. The hit had gone down right outside the courthouse. Chris' quick action had not only gotten the judge out of the line of fire, but he'd taken down the shooter. 

After moving to Nevada with his wife after he retired, Orrin Travis took a position on the governor's staff. Six months ago, he had been elected Attorney General of the state of Nevada. When he called Chris to request he fly to Carson City and talk with him, Chris couldn't say 'no.'  

Opening the door, Chris entered the subtly decorated office with its magnificent view of the surrounding peaks. Seated behind the desk was the same commanding presence that Chris remembered from countless courtrooms. He may have a different title, but Orrin Travis still demanded and received respect. Chris walked toward the desk and extended his hand. 

"Sir, it's good to see you again." 

"Chris, my boy, I'm glad you're here," the man said, returning Chris' handshake. He motioned to a chair. "Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?" 

"No, thank you, sir." Chris answered. "I had enough on the plane this morning." 

"Well, then, let's not beat around the bush. I'm sure you're wondering about the job I mentioned." 

"Truthfully, yes I am. I'm happy as a Marshal, sir." 

"I understand. But I'm hoping that this job will be challenging enough to tempt you. So hear me out." 

"If it was anyone but you, sir, I wouldn't even be here. Okay, so what is this challenging job?" Chris smiled. 

"The city of Lake Tahoe has an unusual problem, because it sits on both sides of the California-Nevada state line. Because of that, when something unusual occurs, time is wasted by agencies bickering about whose jurisdiction it belongs in." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Two months ago, a four-year old girl wandered away from one of the local ski resorts. While search and rescue was gearing up to go after her, police got word that a bank robbery suspect from Diamond Springs was holed-up somewhere in the search area. Different agencies started bickering about who had jurisdiction and which situation warranted a more immediate concern. It wasted precious time. Needless to say, the robbery suspect found the girl and used her as a hostage when the police got too close. Luckily, one of the search and rescue volunteers also happened to be a sharpshooter. He managed to take the robber out without harming the girl. The robber died and the girl was returned to her parents, a little cold and frightened, but otherwise unharmed. But it raised a lot of ugly accusations." 

Travis took a sip of his coffee and continued on with his story. "There was a lot of blame-placing and calls for reform. California's AG, Howard Macauliff, and I met with the members of Tahoe's city council. It was decided that what was needed was a cross-state enforcement team. It will be primarily a federal law enforcement agency, but will also be available to handle large-scale search and rescues that cross the state lines. It will be a multi-functional team. In the event of anything similar occurring in the future, this team will take command of all the local agencies; police, fire, rescue squads, the works. They'll coordinate everyone to cut down on the bickering. This will be a test project of a sort. If it goes well, we may implement the same type of team in other state boundary areas." 

"Well, I can definitely see the need for a team like you're proposing, sir. Am I to assume that you want me to be on this team?" 

"Not just on the team, Chris, we would like you to lead the team." Travis stated. 

Chris was silent while he took this information in. "Why me? I mean, I'm sure that there are any number of qualified individuals in this area that would work just as well. Buck Wilmington comes to mind," he said, smiling as he mentioned an old friend of his that was a member of the Tahoe PD. Buck and Chris went along way back. The two men had met at college, being teammates on the school football team. They'd shared a common interest in the law, both of them being criminal justice majors. Even though they had gone their separate ways, Chris becoming a federal Marshal and Buck returning home to his native California, they'd kept in touch. Buck had been Chris' best man as well as godfather to his son, Adam. And he'd been the first person Chris had called when his wife, Sarah and son, Adam had been killed in an avalanche three years ago. "Why bring in someone who isn't a local?" 
"Just for that reason. When someone was mentioned that was from an agency from one state, council members from the other state would gripe. It wasn't a pretty sight. Buck was actually approached. Although he said that he would love to be a part of the team, he told us that he didn't want to be team leader. He mentioned that you would be a perfect choice to lead this team. He couldn't think of anyone that could do a better job than you, and that since you were from out of the area, no one could complain about favoritism. Macauliff has heard of you and knew your reputation, and I agreed that you would be a good choice. So the decision was made to offer you the position."  

Chris couldn't believe that he was actually seriously considering this job. He'd never thought about not being a Marshal. But Travis was right, it would be a challenge. And settling down near his old friend would be a bonus. With a team like they were proposing, not only would he still be a law officer, but working search and rescue, he'd also feel like he was making a contribution to Sarah and Adam's memories. 

"Well, it's certainly an intriguing offer, sir. I'd like some time to think about it. When do you need an answer?" Chris asked. 

Travis smiled, satisfied that Chris was considering the offer. "Macauliff and I will be attending the next council meeting in Tahoe next Wednesday. That's a little over a week. Would that be enough time?" 

"Yes, I can have an answer for you by then. If I do this, what are my options in choosing team members?" 

"Well, we actually have files of potential candidates for you to peruse. Some are law enforcement officers and some are rescue workers. Most are from Tahoe and surrounding areas, although some are from out of state. You'd be able to pick who you would want on the team."  

"Would I get to choose only people from your list of candidates or could I recruit from outside that? Buck might have some ideas of applicants that might not be on your list of potential candidates. I'd like to know if I could consider his suggestions." 

"No, you wouldn't have to abide by our choices. We put the files together as a courtesy to you. You would have the ability to choose whomever you wanted." He leaned forward in this chair. "Can I assume that if you do take the job, that Buck is going to be one of your choices?" 

"Count on it." 

Travis smiled, then held out a hand to Chris. "Well, then, I look forward to hearing your answer, Chris." 

"I'll give it some serious thought, sir. If you need to reach me in the meantime, I'll be staying with Buck while I'm in Tahoe." Chris got up to leave. "No matter what my answer, sir, I'm honored that you thought enough of me to make the offer. It was good to see you again." Chris walked out, leaving the man to get back to his work. 

Two hours later, Chris pulled up in front of the South Lake Tahoe Police Department headquarters. Parking his rented car, he headed inside. At the front desk, he waited patiently while an older couple talked with the officer on the duty desk. Once they had finished and left, Chris stepped up to the desk.  

"Hi. Chris Larabee to see Buck Wilmington." The officer nodded his head and picked up the phone to let Buck know that someone was here to see him. He had barely put down the phone when Buck was coming out of the back office area. Striding up to Chris, the tall, mustached man was grinning widely.  

"Chris, you old war dog. Good to see you." He pulled Chris into a rough hug, slapping him heartily on the back. "Glad you made it in okay. How was your flight?" 

"Uneventful, Buck. It's good to see you too. How are things going?" Chris asked his friend. 

"Oh, same old, same old. So many ladies, so little time." Buck laughed as Chris rolled his eyes. Buck loved the ladies and wasn't ashamed to admit that they loved him, too. He knew that would never change. Buck was a law unto himself. 

"Well, pard," Buck said. "What say we go get some lunch, then I can take you to my place and let you get settled in." 

"Sounds good, Buck. I'm in the mood for a thick steak. Any recommendations?" 

"Oh, yeah. Let's go," he said, putting on his hat. "I'm driving." 

Chris smiled slightly, not fooled by Buck's seeming disinterest. "It went okay, Buck," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "I understand that you threw my name into the ring for this position." 

"Yep. And I stand by what I said to the city council, Chris. You would do a hell of a job leading this team." 

"Thanks for the compliment, Buck." Chris stared into his coffee cup, stifling a smile. "Ya know, if I were to take the job, I'd need a good right hand man. Someone I could trust, and who knows the area. You got any ideas on who I could get for that job?" Chris asked teasingly. 

Buck laughed out loud. "Hell, pard, you gonna make me beg? I would love to be a part of this team." Buck's face then got serious. "But more importantly, Chris, I'd be thrilled to work with you. You take this job, and you can guarantee that I'll be the first one asking for an application." 

"Hell, Buck, I'll have enough paperwork to wade through without getting an application I don't need from you. I've already told Travis that if I accept, you'll be on the team. Why bother filling out an application?" 

Buck just smiled. "Listen, Chris, I've got the day off tomorrow. What do you say we take a drive around? You can get a good idea of the area. How about it?" 

"Sounds good, Buck. I have to admit that you were right, it is beautiful up here." 

"It's a great city, Chris. There's a lot to do, and all within an easy driving distance. There's something for everyone. Casinos, skiing, climbing, fishing, water sports on the lake. It can certainly keep a person busy." 

"Well, that can be good and bad, Buck. But I reckon it could definitely be challenging." 

Talk turned to other topics as the men enjoyed their lunch. 

A few more minutes down the road, the trees thinned out and finally he could see a large meadow with the Sierra Nevadas as the backdrop for what could have been a picture postcard. Completing the postcard look, across the meadow, sat a log house, with corrals and stables nearby.  

The meadow was about 7 or 8 acres, with fir trees and pine trees surrounding three sides. Buck pulled his truck into the long driveway and stopped in front of the house. The two men got out of the truck and gazed around at the serene setting. Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the mountain air before following Buck up the half dozen steps to the wrap-around porch. Wilmington opened the door and stepped in, his friend right behind him.  

A short hallway opened up into a great room, with ceiling to floor windows on the opposite wall, with a breathtaking view of the mountains behind the house. A large stone fireplace was on the right, with a hallway running off beyond it. To the left was an open area that Chris could see was the kitchen and dining room.  

Above and behind them, opposite the wall of windows, was a loft area. Buck headed up the stairs to look around while Chris explored the hallway behind the fireplace.  

"There's two small bedrooms up here, Chris and an open area that would make a great office. And a full bathroom." 

Chris came back into the great room and stared out at the mountains. "Yeah? There are two more bedrooms down here. One's a master bedroom with a huge bathroom and there's a second full bathroom off the hall." 

"Man, this place is beautiful, huh?" Buck commented as he descended the stairs, stopping halfway down to admire the view again. "And only 45 minutes to town." 

"It sure is peaceful up here." 

"And it's for sale, Chris." Buck looked at his friend, hoping he'd take the hint.  

Larabee didn't say anything for several minutes. He wandered into the kitchen, opened a door that led to a large walk-in pantry. Another door led to a mud room and laundry room and from there to the attached two-car garage.  

"Why did you bring me up here?" Chris knew the purpose of the trip. He hadn't been Wilmington's friend for so long without being able to read him well. But he wanted to make Buck sweat a bit, make him spell out his intentions.  

"Well, I just wanted you to see it," Buck stammered. "You do like it don't ya?" 

"Yeah, I like it." 

"There's lotsa space for horses. The stable has six stalls and a large tack room." 

"You don't own any horses, Buck." 

"Well, yeah, I know." 

"So, are you buying this place?" 

"Hell, no." 

"So, then why bring me up to here to show it to me?" Chris walked over toward the fireplace. On the opposite side from the hallway was a door that led to the porch. He opened it and walked out, leaning against the railing. Buck followed him out and perch his hip on the rail next to him.  

"Chris, what have you got holding you in Denver? I know that Titus has offered to buy your place several times, so it's not that. And although I know you like your job, this would give you the chance to be the boss in charge of your own team." 

"Buck…" 

"Chris, I know you miss Sarah and Adam. And I understand it's hard to leave the place where you think all their memories are. But you have those memories in your head, Chris. They'll move with ya." 

"I know you're right, Buck. It's been three years and it is time for me to move on. It's just that Sarah loved that ranch." 

"I know. And she'd have loved this one too. Don't let your love for them and your grief at losing them interfere with the rest of your life. Sarah would pitch a fit if she knew you were doing that." 

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, that Irish temper of hers would be bringing down the hills, wouldn't it?" Chris looked around again and took another deep breath. "It is peaceful here. I love hearing the wind blowing and having to listen to traffic outside my window."  

"The first time I saw this place, it reminded me of your ranch in Colorado. We could have some hellacious Sunday barbecues out here!" 

"I'll tell you what, Buck. I will at least talk to the realtor. But I won't make any promises." 

"Good enough pardner. We have an appointment this afternoon at two." 

"Pretty sure of yourself aren't you?" Chris asked with a smile. 

"This just feels right, Chris. You and me working together. You up here." 

"Maybe we can even teach you to ride, huh, Buck." 

"I'll leave that to you, pard, while I sit on the porch watching the deer and the antelope play. So, does that mean you're gonna take the job?" 

"Let's get back to town, Wilmington," Chris said, pushed his friend ahead of him into the house so they could lock up. He didn't answer his friend; but then he didn't have to. It did feel right.  

Two weeks later, Chris and Buck were once again in the house, this time waiting for the movers to arrive with Chris' belongings from Colorado. While they waited, they were taking their first look through the files that Travis had supplied them with. 

"You know, Buck, the hardest position to fill will be the pilot," Chris said, running a hand through his short-cropped blonde hair. "We need someone who can fly helicopters and light planes. All these candidates can fly one or the other, none of them can fly both." 

"Ezra." 

"Bless you," Chris said without looking up from the file in front of him. 

Buck looked at his friend and rolled his eyes. "That wasn't a sneeze, Chris. It was an answer to our problem." 

"What?" 

"Ezra Standish. He's the head of security over at Harrah's Casino. He also happens to be qualified on helos and Cessnas. He doesn't have a law enforcement background, but he's been working security for over ten years, and has been running Harrah's security for the last six. He's good, Chris, damn good. In less than a week, he identified one of the biggest burglary rings I'd ever seen in Tahoe or anywhere. They had been working all the hotel/casinos in town. When they got to his, he put a stop to it." 

Chris thought about it for a minute, contemplating Buck's words. "You think he'd be interested in joining an outfit like this?" he finally asked. 

Buck smirked. "If he's approached right." 

"Tell me what you know about him," he ordered. 

The more Chris heard, the more he liked Buck's idea. This guy sounded like he'd make a good addition to the group. Buck explained that Ezra Standish had started out attempting to penetrate security for Fortune 500 companies. Ezra's Uncle Max, at the time head of security for Harrah's, had asked Ezra to test the casino's security force. Ezra had, and they had failed. At Ezra's suggestions, the casino had installed several new security measures and added different procedures to the security routines. The casino owners were so impressed that when Max announced his wish to retire, they had asked his nephew to take over. Since then, Harrah's had had the least amount of theft or cheating of any of the casinos in Tahoe. Harrah's owners had also implemented Standish's methods in their other casinos in Vegas and the Caribbean. 

Chris nodded. "I wanna meet him, Buck." 

"Not a problem, Chris. Buy him dinner and you can talk to your hearts content. But when the time comes, follow my lead," the man cautioned. 

Chris had never been one to just follow someone else blindly. "What do ya mean, Buck?" 

"Trust me, I know how to handle Standish. It just takes a little…finesse. Something you're sorely lacking in, pard." 

"Gee, Buck, all these compliments are gonna turn my head if you're not careful," Chris said wryly. Buck just laughed. 

 
They had dinner at one of the restaurants inside the casino, while Chris and Buck discussed the team with Ezra Standish. The more they talked, the more impressed Chris was with the stylish southerner. He was sure the man would make a good pilot for their team, but decided the man's innate ability to plan for contingencies would prove to be even more useful. But when the time came, Standish was uncertain about accepting their generous offer. They couldn't match the pay he was getting from the casino. And the perks, which included a free room at the casino's hotel, were something Ezra had gotten quite used to. 

But Standish never did a job just for the paycheck. His family was old money, so Ezra didn't want for much. And his own stint as a professional gambler when he was barely old enough to legally enter a casino, would keep his bank accounts full well into his retirement.  

Buck sighed, pulled out his wallet and handed Chris a fifty-dollar bill. "Here ya go, Chris. You won." 

Chris took the money, not letting his confusion show on his face. "Buck…" 

Buck held up a hand. "No, you were right, pard. You said someone like Standish wouldn't be up to the challenge, and you were right." He didn't seem to notice as Ezra's eyes narrowed on him. "You kept saying that someone without prior police experience wouldn't work on this team, even if he could fly as well as he claimed." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well, you humored me and gave it a shot. That's all I can ask." 

"Mr. Wilmington, it's not that I'm not up to the challenge. But I do have certain amenities here that the U.S. Government couldn't begin to match." 

"Sorry, Chris, I thought that we could tempt his gambler's spirit."  

Both men turned at a snort from the other side of the table. "Really, Mr. Wilmington, your acting abilities leave much to be desired. Trying to con me isn't the way to insure my employment with your organization." Ezra drained his coffee cup. Turning a calculating eye on Buck, he said, "Although your offer is intriguing, Mr. Larabee, I feel that I must decline at this time. My apologies…" He stood up, but didn't walk away just yet. "It would behoove you to remember in the future, Mr. Wilmington, that the best way to insure my capitulation is to bet against what you really want me to do. Because I'd be more inclined to do the opposite of what you want, simply to make sure you don't win your bet." He turned to Chris. "I thank you for the offer."  

Chris pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Ezra. "If you change your mind, you can reach me there."  

Ezra nodded. "Good evening, gentlemen." With that, Ezra walked away from the table. Chris paid the bill and he and Buck crossed the casino floor, headed toward the exit. 

"Well, Buck, he certainly saw through you," Chris teased. 

"That's exactly what I wanted him to think, Chris. He played right into my hands. I told you that he had to be approached in just the right way. It went down exactly like I intended it to," Buck assured him. 

Chris raised an eyebrow, not believing Buck for a minute. But he let it go. Gracing Buck with an innocent statement, he clapped his friend on the shoulder. "By the way, Buck, it was mighty nice of you to pay for dinner. Thanks." 

Buck froze as Chris walked away. Stuttering, he hurried to catch up. "Chris, that ain't funny. I've gotta date tonight. I need that money. Chris…" 

 
Mr. Standish,

You strike me as a man who enjoys a good game of chance. The higher the stakes, the better you like it. I am issuing you a challenge. Give me two weeks of your time.

Chris Larabee 

Ezra smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the light from his desk lamp. A challenge, huh, Mr. Larabee. Very well, let's see what you're made of. Ezra pulled out a piece of Casino stationary from his desk. He wrote just two words across the page before folding it and sliding it in an envelope, which he sealed and addressed. He sat back and chuckled. He wondered what type of 'game' Larabee had in mind. 

"Buck," he called. "We got some work to do." 

They already had two people scheduled for interviews for the computer technician job. Chris wanted the tech to also have law enforcement experience, which narrowed the choices down. Buck's recommendations had helped there, as he'd gone over the files too. JD Dunne was police officer with the Massachusetts State Patrol. And Michael Rafferty was a Police Officer with the Jackson Hole, Wyoming PD. Both would be interviewing for the computer tech position and two others still had to call and set up appointments for interviews for the same position.  

Another position had already been filled. Josiah Sanchez was well respected on both sides of the state line as the best search and rescue man to be found west of the Rockies. Josiah was head of the Ski Patrol at a nearby ski resort. When approached by Chris and Buck, he was intrigued enough to sit with them while they laid out the concept of this team. Having been involved in several cross-state S & R operations over the years, he was personally aware of some of the problems and could see where a team like this could only enhance the effectiveness of the teams already in place.  

Although he'd let them finish their spiel, he was convinced after five minutes that he wanted to be a part of this unique opportunity. Chris learned that Josiah had worked his way through college by working demolition for a construction crew and kept up his proficiency handling explosives for avalanche control with the ski patrol. That was an extra that Chris figured could come in handy. And even though Sanchez didn't have any law enforcement experience, his college degree was in psychology, which Chris figured would come in handy when researching criminal backgrounds. 

So they had three members in place. Chris thought seven or eight was a good number for a complete team.  

"Buck, have you given any thought to a medic?" Chris asked as the waitress walked by and he signaled for more coffee. "Where are the files we brought on the medics, damn it?" Chris growled as he sorted through the piles of paperwork on the tables between them. "Christ, Buck, we need to get more organized. None of these files are marked."  

"Chris, I ain't a secretary, I'm a cop. If you want a secretary, then hire one." 

"Actually, we'll need to do that too. Travis okayed one position for an office manager, someone to keep all the files straight, answer the phone, that kind of thing."  

"Make the coffee," Buck teased, knowing that Chris hated Buck's coffee.  

"Yeah, cuz I sure ain't drinking yours."  

"I make a pretty good cup of coffee," a voice next to the table said. Both men glanced up to see their waitress standing next to the table. She was a young woman, maybe 19 or 20 years old, pretty in a tomboy kinda way. She smiled at the two men as she poured them each another cup of coffee. "I can also type 50 words a minute, I know how to file, I can work a computer, am proficient in several different office computer programs, and I take dictation."  

Chris raised an eyebrow, then looked over at his friend who was looking up at the young woman. "I've seen you in here before. What's your name, darlin'?" Buck asked.  

"Casey Wells. And at the risk of bein' rude and losing a job I don't have yet, I ain't your darlin'," she said with a hand on her hip, the other hand still holding the pot of steaming coffee.  

"I like her already, Buck," Chris remarked, laughing at the rebuff. He turned to face the young lady. "You don't even know what this job entails." 

"With the 'Sheriff' here involved," she said, indicating Wilmington, "it can't be anything illegal. And I'll bet it pays better than slinging pancakes to tourists."  

"When could you start?" Chris asked, liking the girl's blunt style and feistiness.  

"Monday morning."  

Chris looked at her thoughtfully for several long seconds then wrote down an address on a piece of paper. "I'll tell you what. We have two more months to get everything together. I'll give you a try during those two months. If everything works out, you've got the job. If not, if either you or I have any problems, we call it quits and I find someone else. Deal?" 

"Deal, Mister…" 

"Larabee. Chris Larabee. I'll see you Monday morning, Casey. Dress casually, jeans or sweats, for now. Be there by eight o'clock. And keep in mind, I value punctuality." 

"I'll be there. And thanks." She smiled and hurried back to the kitchen to pick up another food order.  

"Hey, Chris," he said, turning off the computer monitor. 

"Something you wanna tell me, Buck?" 

"No, not really," the other man replied looking at the floor. 

"Buck, you were muttering 'where did it go' and 'gotta find it.' Why am I going to kill you? What did you lose?" 

"It's not really lost, just…misplaced." 

"What did you lose, Buck?"  

"Theexpensereport," Buck murmured. 

"The what?" 

"Theexpensereport," he said again, then swallowed loudly. 

Chris stared at Buck. "Tell me you didn't say what I thought you said." 

Buck jumped up and walked over to Chris, his hands in front of him like he was trying to ward off something dangerous. "Now, Chris, I don't know what happened. I just went to add a couple of items to the report. I went to print it out, and the screen disappeared and was replaced with a little window that said I committed an error. I've tried to find it, but it keeps telling me that no such file is found." He ran his hands nervously through his hair. 

"Well, Casey can help when she gets back from lunch," Buck said confidently. They both forgot about the other man in the office. 

"Excuse me." They both heard the voice but ignored it. 

"Buck, have you forgotten it's Thursday? You know Casey has class on Thursday afternoons. She's not gonna be back until close to five o'clock," Chris shot down Buck's plan. "I have to fax that report to Travis in less than an hour. I spent four hours on it this morning. What the hell am I supposed to tell him, that the computer gremlin ate it?!" 

"Excuse me." Again the voice was ignored. 

Buck held up his hands, trying to placate his friend. "Now, Chris, just leave everything to ol' Buck, I'll fix this somehow." 

Chris was about to reply when a loud whistle coming from Casey's desk stopped him. He and Buck turned around to find JD sitting at the desk. "Excuse me," the young man said, motioning to the monitor where Chris' expense report was displayed. "Is this what you were looking for?" 

"Well, hell's bells, kid, that's great!" Buck exclaimed. He clapped JD on the shoulder and grinned at Chris. "See, pard, told ya old Buck would fix it somehow." 

Chris and JD exchanged glances and both men rolled their eyes. "Thanks, JD. You really saved our butts retrieving that report." 

"That's for sure, kid," Buck said. "Cuz I don't like have my butt chewed, unless of course, she's really cute." 

"Buck."

"Yeah, son?" 

"You are so full of crap." Buck laughed, but didn't disagree with JD. 

"Well, JD, I hope the fact that Buck is computer illiterate doesn't scare you away from taking the job," Chris said. 

"No, sir. I still want the job." 

"Good. And the name's Chris. Now, how about helping us with a little game we got going?" Chris asked the technician. 

"What kind of game?" JD asked quizzically. 

"Let's then step back into my office and have a little chat about a man named Ezra. Buck, why don't you run out and grab us all some lunch." 

Standing up, he walked over to the monitor and frowned when he saw a video feed coming from somewhere he wasn't familiar with. He continued to watch as the other monitors changed to the same bizarre scene. For a moment, he just stared at the pictures on the screens. He tried turning each screen off then back on again, but still got the same thing, which appeared to be an old black and white movie.  

He walked back to his desk and dialed the security room.  

"Security, Gasken." 

"Tony, I need one of your techs to come up and check my monitors. I seem to be picking up a classic movie station." 

"Sir?" 

"Just get someone up here." 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Standish, but there is no way those screens could pick up anything from outside. They are directly linked to the internal security system." 

"Tell that to Jimmy Stewart, who is at this moment on my screen talking to a 7 foot tall invisible rabbit," Ezra said with annoyance.  

"Someone will be right there." 

A few minutes later a man knocked on the door. As soon as he stepped inside the screens went back to showing different shots of the casino floor.  

"What the…?" 

"Mr. Standish, Tony said you were having trouble with your monitors?" 

"Ah, yes, ah, they just went back to normal. Give them a thorough check. I want to know why for the last few minutes I was watching 'Harvey' instead of the roulette wheel and black jack tables." 

"Yes, sir." 

"I'll be in the security room."

"Chris, I know that you want someone on the team that has more medical knowledge than just your basic first aid. But the ones that have those skills tend to be happy with the fire department or search and rescue. Most of them don't have the desire to get into law enforcement. I hate to say it, pard, but you may just need to forget about that qualification." 

Chris sighed. "I'm afraid you may be right." He finished up the reports and handed them back to Casey. She accepted them, but made no move to leave the office. When Chris looked at her, she was gently chewing on her lower lip. "Casey, is something wrong?" Chris asked her. 

She started to say something, then stopped. 

"Casey," Chris said. "If you've got something on your mind, I'm all ears." 

"Well, I know someone with the skills you're looking for," she said softly. "His name is Nathan Jackson." 

"What department is he with?" 

"He's a paramedic for the fire department in Pahrump, Nevada. He's also a reserve officer with the Nye County Sheriff's Office down there." 

Chris wrote down the name and the departments that Casey just mentioned. "How do you know him?" he asked her. 

"Nathan's girlfriend, Rain, is a classmate of mine at the community college. He comes up to visit her every month. I've met him a couple of times. They've been talking about him looking for a job in this area. If you'd like to talk to him, I could ask Rain for his phone number." 

Chris glanced at Buck, then smiled at Casey. "Can't hurt to talk to him. If you could get me that number, I'd appreciate it." Casey nodded and returned to her desk. 

"Thanks, Chris," the lanky black man said. "I appreciate the opportunity you're giving me." 

"Thank Casey, she's the one who pointed us in your direction." 

Nathan smiled at the young woman. "Oh, don't worry, Rain and I will both be thanking her." 

"Well, I'll leave you to get your paperwork filled out. Just let me know when you think you'll be able to settle things in Pahrump and get started up here." 

"Will do, Chris." 

Chris returned to his office. Casey handed a manila envelope to Nathan, filled with the forms he would need to fill out for his new job. "Congratulations, Nathan. I know Rain will be thrilled to have you living in the same town." 

"So will I. I've been wanting to move here for awhile, but I couldn't afford the cut in pay I would have had to take. Thankfully, this job pays a little more than what I've been making in Pahrump, so it'll be well worth it. Will you join Rain and I tonight for a celebration dinner?" 

"I'd love to. Six o'clock okay?"  

"Yeah, that'll be great. I'll see you then, Casey." 

He finished the report, such as it was, and saved it before printing it. Just after sending it to the printer, his computer screened winked out. Several seconds later, it came back on, with a dancing bear moving across the screen. The bear was wearing a tutu and singing a jingle that Ezra didn't recognize. Finally the bear stopped dancing and turned look up at him from the screen. It carried a sign that gradually got bigger and bigger until Ezra could read it.  

Your job, if you choose to except it, is to locate the nefarious criminal who has infiltrated your security set-up. He will prove as invisible as 'Harvey' and stubborn as a grizzly bear. But you are up to the challenge. Or are you? We shall see. You have one week or the deal is off. Good Luck, Mr. Standish. As always, if you are caught or captured, my team reserves the right to ridicule you in public. This bear will return to hibernation in five seconds. 

Ezra shook his head at the Mission Impossible-esque message. At least Larabee had a sense of humor. As he watched the bear, he saw the image turn and crawl into a cave that popped up behind it. As the bear's butt wriggled in thru the entrance it began to collapse. Once the bear was all the way inside the cave the entrance disappeared in a puff of white smoke and the screen winked out again. Ten seconds later his original screen appeared back on the monitor.  

He called down again to security and asked to have a computer tech come up to see if he could backtrack from where the dancing bear had originated. He knew it was probably hopeless, but he had to start somewhere. Now, at least, he knew the earlier glitch had been related to Larabee's little game. The reference to the Jimmy Stewart movie relieved his mind a bit. He was afraid it might have been some kind of criminal element testing the security system.  

Ezra sat back in his chair. So the game had started and he had one week to find the culprit. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the business card that Larabee had given him. The address was on the other side of town. Standish wasn't familiar with the area, but he wasn't worried. So the first thing he had to do was find the location the man was working from. Then a little surveillance work to see whom Larabee and Wilmington were associating with.  

"That was Spencer Halliwell, Chris. He's canceled his interview." 

"Thanks, Casey. I had a feeling he would after he called and told me about his son's accident." 

"Isn't he the sniper candidate?" Buck asked.  

"Yeah. His son was involved in a traffic accident a couple of days ago. He called and told me he might not be able to make it, wanted to wait and see if his condition improved."  

"He said to tell you that he'd call back in a couple of weeks to see if you're still looking for someone, but he wouldn't be able to make it any sooner than that," Casey said.  

"Damn. He was our best bet too."  

"I keep telling you to talk to Tanner, Chris. He'd be perfect. He's a crack shot and he knows the hills around here better than anyone I know," Buck remarked.  

"Buck, I know you like Tanner. And it's admirable that he was able to take out that bank robber out and save that little girl's life. But he doesn't have any law enforcement experience." 

"Chris, the man is a bounty hunter. He's been chasing criminals for longer than it's been legal for him to carry a gun. And he wouldn't be the only one without police experience. Josiah doesn't. Neither does Ezra, that is if your plan works and Standish joins us." 

"Oh, it'll work," Chris replied with a smile. "And you said yourself that Tanner has been working on his own for several years. He's a loner." 

"Chris, just because he doesn't like working with other folks doesn't mean he can't." 

"No, Buck, we'll find someone else." Wilmington nodded his head.  

He reached over and powered up his computer, half expecting that stupid dancing bear to return. He called up his email and perused the several messages listed here. One intrigued him, the subject titled "surveillance and interrogation". He opened up the mail and saw an attachment. He opened up the attachment and saw photos of his own office. Of him in the office, drinking a snifter of brandy. All the photos appeared to be from the same angle.  

Standing up he walked over to the corner and looked up. Pulling a chair over, he stepped onto it and moved a plant sitting on the shelf. There in the corner were two small holes, where something had been attached. It was gone now, but Standish was sure it had recently housed a small camera. Ezra smiled. Larabee was good, there was no doubt and he had some good people with him. He knew that Wilmington didn't have that expertise and from everything he'd found out, neither did Sanchez or Jackson. So it was either the girl or the young man.  

Ezra called Tony again. It was time to turn the tables on Mr. Larabee.  

After about two minutes of a too pretty and way too cheerful news anchor trying to breath life into a stale newscast, he started to turn off the set when it flickered. For a moment a test pattern showed up on screen, highly unusual for 6 o'clock in the evening. Then the screened flickered again and popped up with a somewhat familiar scene.  

He heard a door open on screen and footsteps walking across the floor to the desk that was the focal point of the shot. He heard someone clear his throat, then what sounded like ice cubes being dropped into a glass. A few seconds later, Ezra Standish walked into view and settled in behind the desk.  

He took a sip of the drink in his hand then turned to look into the camera. He smiled and took another sip.  

"Good Evening, Mr. Larabee. We interrupt your regularly scheduled program with a special news bulletin. Special because, of course, I am the main attraction." Standish brushed back his hair and straightened his tie. "A bulletin for lack of a better name for this unexpected intrusion into your space. But I felt that since you enjoyed watching so well before, and since your video equipment seems to have been stolen, I would offer you the opportunity to continue the scintillating look into my life."  

Ezra set down his drink and reached over to turn on his computer. For several minutes he didn't say anything else. Suddenly he looked up, as if just realizing that Chris was still watching.  

"Oh, excuse my manners. Would you care for a drink? If you turn around and open the cabinet next to the window, you'll find a bottle of the best whiskey money can buy and all the accouterments you'll need to enjoy the libation." Ezra then turned back to his computer for a moment. "Oh, by the way, you may want to thank Mr. Wilmington for the whiskey, since I took the liberty to put it on his tab at the local 'saloon' that he seems to favor." Again Ezra turned back to the computer. Chris walked over to the cabinet and opened the doors. He reached in and pulled out the bottle and a glass. He'd have to remember to thank Buck. He poured a glass and sat back down behind his desk.  

After several more minutes of watching Standish work, Chris decided he'd had enough and hit the power button. When nothing happened, he hit his hand on the side of the remote and tried again. Nothing. Figuring the batteries were just low, he walked over to the set and pushed the power button there. The television still wouldn't turn off.  

He heard Ezra clear his throat again. "By now, you've undoubtedly gotten tired of watching my daily routine, although I am at a loss to explain how anyone could be bored with me. However, unfortunately for you, this is a show that only ends when I say so. So, in order for you to stop the program, you will of course have to unplug the set. Ah, I can see you reaching for the plug now." Chris halted his movement…toward the plug. He glanced around, wondering if Ezra had managed to set up his own surveillance cameras in Chris' office.  

Hearing Standish laugh, he turned his attention back to the screen. "No, Mr. Larabee, I did not 'bug' your office. But then again, maybe I did. Guess you'll have to take your chances on that one. On that note, I shall bid you adieu, as I have a rendezvous with an enchanting lady this evening. Alas, I sense your disappointment that the program should end so soon. Maybe another time, you can visit again. Good night, Mr. Larabee."  

The screen went black with Ezra's laughter in the background.  

Chris walked back over to his chair and dropped down. "Shit! Well, Standish, you sure are making it interesting."  

"Hey, bartender, what's up with the TV? Where'd the hockey game go?" Ezra looked up, not completely surprised that for the second time in less than a week, 'Harvey' was playing on a television screen in his vicinity.  

"I'm sorry, sir," the bartender said. He changed the channel, but the scene didn't change. "That's odd." He tried turning the TV off, then on again. It still showed the classic movie. "I'm not sure what's wrong." 

"I daresay it will clear up in a moment or two." Ezra told the bartender. "If it doesn't, go ahead and let Tony know. He'll get someone down to take a look at it." 

"Yes, sir, Mr. Standish." The bartender kept an eye on the television as Ezra walked away. No sooner had he stepped over the threshold and back onto the casino floor, the television flickered and the hockey game returned. The bartender glanced at Ezra's retreating back, wondering how the security man had known. Then he shrugged and turned to the customers at the bar. 

Ezra continued on his rounds, though his thoughts were now focused elsewhere. As he entered another of the lounges, he eyed the television behind the bar. It too, was showing the hockey game. But within seconds of his entrance, the scene switched. Now instead of a sporting event, the familiar opening credits of 'Mission:Impossible' were showing on the screen. Ezra listened without comment as the same groans and complaints were heard from the bar's patrons. He continued his rounds, entering as silently as he had entered. Once again, the scene switched back to the game as Ezra exited the establishment. 

The scene was repeated as Ezra continued his rounds. The televisions in the bars and restaurants would switch to 'Harvey' or 'Mission:Impossible', and would immediately revert back upon his exit. Ezra was now aware that he was being watched. There was no other way they could be timing the switchovers so precisely.  

Ezra smiled to himself. 'They are good,' he thought. He picked up his pace, going to the security room. He needed more of Tony's expert help. And he would contact his friend again to see if he'd found out any more about the young man in Larabee's office. Time was running out and he intended to finish the game. 

"Chris, this was just delivered," she said, laying the envelope on the edge of Chris' desk. 

"Okay, thanks, Casey." 

Turning his attention to the envelope, Chris pulled the tab to open it. Inside were several old parchment type papers, each approximately eleven inches by fourteen inches. Pulling them out, Chris stared at the one on top, reading the words that were written underneath the picture. Chris couldn't help it, he started laughing. His laughter continued so long and loud that it drew the attention of his teammates. They gathered at the door to Chris' office, eyebrows raised. Chris finally waved them inside.  

"Come on in, y'all," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Casey, you too." Chris waited until everyone was gathered in his office, and leaned back in his chair. "It appears that we have lost our war with Mr. Standish. But the man does have a unique way of achieving victory." Chris thumbed through the stack of papers from the envelope, handing one to each of the people gathered in the room. As each person read their respective papers, the laughter in the room grew. 

Chris looked at the picture of himself, under the words 'Wanted: Dead or Alive'. Tickled at the old-fashioned Wanted poster that Standish had had made, he read his list of 'crimes' out loud to his teammates. "Wanted: Chris 'kill em with a glare' Larabee. Charged with trying to out-con the con man and disrespecting invisible rabbits everywhere. Reward for capture: A warm wool blanket for when Mr. "Glare-abee send his look your way." 

Buck continued, his lips curving up in a grin as he read his. "Wanted: Buck 'you in there with my wife' Wilmington. Charged with bad acting, misusing dead or dying clichés and leading naïve young women down the path of bad taste. Reward for capture: the undying gratitude of husbands everywhere and free vaccinations." Buck looked up as the meaning of that last statement hit him. "Hey, now that was just uncalled for."  

Nathan snickered at Buck's chagrin, then read his. "Wanted: Nathan 'shoot em full of holes then shoot em full of morphine' Jackson. Charged with unlawful use of syringe and being elusive without a license. Reward for capture: Freedom from being unexpectedly jabbed in the posterior with a hypodermic needle." Nathan looked up sheepishly, seeing that the others expected an explanation. "Uh, one of the guys in my unit down in Pahrump was being a little stubborn about his medication. The doctor gave me the okay to sedate him. I had to sneak up on him and inject him in the behind." 

"Ouch," Buck muttered. "Chris, remind me to never turn my back on this man," he said, throwing an arm around Nathan's shoulder. 

"It's not your back you should be worried about, Buck," JD said with a laugh. 

Josiah cleared his throat to get their attention. When they had quieted down, he proceeded. "Wanted: Josiah 'better than a St. Bernard but don't forget the whiskey' Sanchez. Charged with exploding helpless snowflakes and chasing snow bunnies who aren't actually in need of being rescued. Reward for capture: The undying gratitude of innocent mountains everywhere." 

Casey was next in line, but seemed reluctant. Buck wasn't about to let her off the hook. "Come on, Casey," Buck said. "We all read ours, let's hear yours."  

Casey's cheeks got red, but she gamely went along with Buck's statement. "Wanted: Casey 'not as innocent as I look' Wells. Charged with beating scrambled eggs and over zealous suitors into submission. Reward for capture: Autographed copy of the infamous 'Wells Slugger Spatula'." 

They all looked at Casey with the question in their eyes. "It was nothing. Really." 

"Casey?"  

"Really, Chris, it was just a misunderstanding." 

"Casey?" The others echoed. 

"Oh, Damn." She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath. "This guy had been asking me out. I didn't want to go and kept telling him no. He wouldn't listen. One day he came to my work and wouldn't leave. I tried to hide in the kitchen, but he followed me. So, Ithrewaspatulaathim," she explained, mumbling the last bit.  

"Next time, darlin', make in something more substantial. Like a fryin' pan." Buck laughed at the picture he conjured up of their sweet, little feisty Casey throwing kitchen utensils at unwanted male attention.  

She put her hands on her hips and glared at Wilmington. "Well, Buck Darlin', I'll have you know, he never bothered me again!" A few seconds later, she joined in the laughter that was circulating the room. 

JD's eyes got wide as he looked at Casey with new eyes. He'd have to remember to never piss her off. Looking quickly down at his own wanted poster, he cleared his throat and read, "Wanted: JD 'the infiltrator' Dunne. Charged with waking hibernating cartoon bears and leading security experts on a merry rabbit hunt. Reward for capture: hours of challenging entertainment." 

"Yes," came the soft southern reply. Everyone looked up to see Ezra Standish leaning against the doorframe. "A job well 'Dunne', sir," he said to JD, tipping the brim of an imaginary hat at the young man. JD smiled back, getting his first 'close-up' view of the man he'd spent a good amount of time watching and harassing this past week. 

"Standish," Chris said, standing up to greet his adversary. "Well, looks like you won. Can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed. I was hoping we could stump you and convince you to join us." 

"On the contrary, Mr. Larabee, I think your approach achieved the desired results. I haven't had this much fun in ages. Can we talk more about this position?" 

Chris grinned. "You bet. Come on in." 

Larabee gathered the men together in the conference room. Although the team wasn't complete yet, he still needed to find a sniper, they'd been requested to assistance in the search for a fugitive.  

"Okay, boys, it seems we've got a not-so-model citizen heading our way," Chris said as he opened up the file in front of him. The team was seated around the large table, each with a cup of coffee in front of them. Taking out a piece of paper from the file, Chris passed it over to Buck. It was a booking form. "Mr. Michael Jacardi," Chris said. "Convicted and sentenced to life for the triple murder of his own brother, sister-in-law and 12-year old niece. Escaped from Folsom two days ago."  

"Ah, yes, a family man," remarked Ezra Standish, with a sarcastic frown as he took the paper from Buck. "How, pray tell, did he manage to escape the confines of a maximum security penitentiary?"  

"With inside help, apparently," Chris replied. "Originally, authorities thought he might have headed to Sacramento or San Francisco, but now they think he might be headed our way. A lady was carjacked yesterday in Auburn. The description of her assailant fits Jacardi to a "t", including a tattoo on his right wrist. They think he might be headed for the mountain. He and his brother, before Jacardi killed him that is, ran a small business guiding folks on hikes and ski trips into the back country around Truckee and South Lake Tahoe and into Desolation Wilderness." While Chris was talking the others had passed the booking sheet around. 

"So, he's familiar with living in the mountains?" Josiah Sanchez asked when he handed it back to Larabee. 

"Yes. They think he might be headed back toward his family's old cabin in the hills southeast of Tahoe. They've alerted all law enforcement in the area and they want us to take a look around the high country." 

"With the weather finally turning warmer, there is bound to be a lot of early spring hikers up here this weekend, Chris," Nathan Jackson reminded his team leader.  

"I know. That's why I want to find him before then. It's only Tuesday, so we have some time. But that's a lot of area to cover. And he may have headed into South Lake Tahoe to blend into the crowds at the casinos. We have some feelers out already and we're keeping an eye on the carjack victim's credit card to see if that gives us a direction. We need to…" 

Chris was interrupted by a yell from outside the closed conference room doors. As he and the others stood to find out what the problem was they heard the voice of their secretary, Casey Wells. "You can't go in there, Sir!"  

Moments later, the doors burst open and a man stumbled across the threshold, landing at Larabee's feet. Chris looked down and noticed the man was gagged and his hands were bound behind him with rope. Then another man followed the human projectile through the room. He was not quite as tall as Chris, wore his brown curly hair at shoulder length, and sported a pair of dark sunglasses. His knee-length brown leather duster was open, showing a dark blue flannel shirt and blue jeans underneath and he carried a rifle cradled under his right arm. He wore an old soft brim hat that looked like those soldiers had worn during the civil war. Chris glanced up just as the man removed his glasses, revealing a pair of startlingly blue eyes.  

"Y'all lose something?" he asked with a smirk and a look of disgust directed at the man on the floor. The others in the room, with the exception of Wilmington, stood staring at the leather-clad man, mouths agape. Wilmington looked curiously at the man on the floor. He reached down and picked up the booking sheet from the table, then walked over to the bound man who was still lying face down on the carpet.  

"Chris, I'm sorry, he just barged right in," Casey stammered.  

"Don't you worry none, darlin'," Buck told her. "My friend here was just helping us with a case." Buck grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the man's face up where he could see it. He compared it to the face on the sheet of paper in his hand and smiled. "I guess we can call this case closed." 

"What?!" Chris asked, an statement of shock crossing his features. 

"Check it out, Chris," Buck said, handing his boss the booking sheet. Larabee crouched down next to him as Wilmington once again pulled the man's head up so Chris could get a good look. Larabee reached out and pulled the gag from the man's mouth, regretting it immediately when the man starting rambling.  

"Please, help me! That guy's trying to kill me! He jumped me and tied me up, dragged me all the way down here with a rope tied around me. That son-of-a-bitch is gonna kill me! He ain't got the right to tie me up like this. I want a lawyer. This is against the law. Untie me!" 

"Now ya know why I gagged him," the long-haired man said, a distinct drawl in his voice. "I take it y'all been looking for him." 

"Actually, we just got the information today," Chris told him. "He escaped from Folsom day before yesterday." 

"Figured as much. His clothes don't fit him too well. Guess that means he stole them from somebody. Hey, Bucklin, how many times I done told you to keep your trash off my mountain?" 

"Sorry, Vin. How about a cup of coffee for your trouble," Buck said, gesturing with his head to the back of the room. "So, how'd you know to bring him here?" 

The man walked over to the table and leaned his rifle against it. He picked up a mug and filled it with the strong brew, adding a spoonful of sugar, then took a sip.  

"Mort over at the PD said that you were working for the feds now. Since I wanted to say hello anyway, I figured I'd bring a present along." 

The others had gathered around the prisoner on the floor, who continued to ramble about his constitutional rights. Finally, Ezra reached over and pulled the gag back up.  

"Ah, blessed silence," he remarked, pulling a chuckle from the others.  

Chris looked over at the man Buck called Vin, meeting his gaze. A feeling of familiarity washed over him, like this was someone he'd always known. A slight widening of the man's eyes showed that he felt it too. A voice broke the intense connection.  

"So, Buck, you know that guy?" JD whispered. Chris pulled his gaze from the stranger to look at Wilmington.  

"Yeah," Buck replied, leading the others toward the back of the room. "Boys, this is Vin Tanner. He lives up in the hills east of here aways." 

"Vin, how've you been?" Josiah asked, surprising the others. "I see you're walking better than the last time I saw you." At the confused looks from the others, Josiah explained that the last time he'd seen the man was a year before when he'd been hobbling around on crutches recovery from a bullet wound. 

"I'm fine, preacher. Leg healed help right as rain. I see you finally got yourself a real job. Get tired of chasing those snow bunnies around?" Tanner and Sanchez shook hands.  

"The snow bunnies were getting too fast for him," Nathan said, also shaking Vin's hand. "I'm Nathan Jackson, nice to meet you."  

"Vin, this is JD Dunne and Ezra Standish," Buck introduced the other two men. "JD came all the way from Massachusetts to join our little group. And Ezra was head of security at Harrah's." Tanner nodded his head in greeting. "And this old guy is our boss, Chris Larabee. Chris, this is the guy I was telling you about who found that little girl in the wilderness last year." 

"Nice to meet you," Chris said. "Buck says you know the mountains pretty well." 

"Well enough, I s'pose," Tanner said, taking another sip of coffee.  

"Thanks for bringing in Jacardi." 

"Yes, Mr. Tanner, you have our undying gratitude. Your timely apprehension of this miscreant has undoubtedly saved us numerous hours gallivanting around in the wilderness," Ezra said as he glanced at his nails. "And I won't ruin my manicure." 

A look of disbelief crossed Vin's face and he turned when Buck laughed.  

"Ezra, when has your manicure ever kept you from chasin' the bad guys?" he asked, slapping Standish on the back.  

"I do have to keep up appearances, Mr. Wilmington." 

"So, I take it you know Josiah," Chris commented to Vin, gesturing for the man to take a seat. The others joined them at the table. 

Sanchez supplied the answer. "Vin and I met a couple of years ago while I was working ski patrol. My team and I were looking for a missing skier. He accompanied us to the area, found tracks where no one else could, and we found the skier in less than an hour." 

"And I met him when I arrested him," Buck said, laughing. The others looked at Buck incredulously as Vin just chuckled. Chris raised his eyebrows in question.  

"Had to arrest him one night for illegal parking. I would have just given him a ticket, but then his transportation decided to run amok in one of the local casinos." 

"How the hell did your car run amok in a casino?" JD asked.  

"Mr. Wilmington never indicated his transportation was a motor vehicle, Mr. Dunne," Ezra stated.  

"Indeed, Mr. Standish," Buck good-naturedly mocked the southerner. "He tied up his horse in a no-parking zone. And when we tried to move it, the horse took off on us. It ran down the street and into the garage area of Harvey's casino. From there it got into the kitchen through the loading zone and as the kitchen help was running for their lives it made its way through the swinging doors onto the casino floor. We got the danged thing cornered, but everytime somebody got close to the animal, it would rear up and start flashin' those hoofs at us."  

"So what happened?" JD asked, the others leaning forward to enjoy the story.  

"We were just getting ready to call a vet to sedate the horse, when we hear this voice yelling across the room. 'What the hell ya doing to my horse?'. Well, ol' Tanner here comes strolling in, big as you please, pushin' his way through all those deputies. He comes straight over to me and gets in my face, tellin' me to back off if I don't wanna get hurt." 

"It was for your own good, Buck," Tanner said.  

"Yeah, but you coulda warned me that demon horse of yours was a biter."  

"You got bit, Buck?" Chris asked.  

"He sure did. Made it hard to sit down for few days after that too." Vin chuckled.  

"He bit you on the ass?!" JD cried, laughing.  

"More like the lower back." 

"Yeah, the 'lower' lower back," Vin teased. "Elmer don't like people harassing me." 

"You call your horse, Elmer?" JD asked.  
"Yep."  

"Yeah, that horse is so obnoxious, at least once a day Vin threatens to send him to the glue factory, so Elmer seems appropriate, dontcha think?" Buck asked.  

"So, you arrested him because his horse bit you?" Nathan asked.  

"Aw, hell no. I arrested him for littering." 

"I wasn't the one who littered, it was the horse." 

All eyes looked at Buck, curiosity the common feature on their faces. "The horse, well, uh, decided to drop a load on the casino floor." For several seconds there was nothing but silence, then a small chuckle was heard from Josiah, followed by another and another, until the chuckles turned into full-fledged laughter, which had all the men in tears eventually. All but Chris and Vin, that is. They both just shook their heads in bemusement. Chris caught Vin's eye and gestured for him to join him outside. Vin grabbed his rifle and followed the other man. 

Chris walked over to their secretary's desk. "Casey, can you call Tahoe PD and see if they have room in their lockup for us to hold the prisoner. And get Warden Landers on the line, I want to tell him personally that his prisoner is back in custody, thanks to Mr. Tanner here." 

"Sure, Chris," she said and reached for the phone.  

"Miss, I sure am sorry I scared ya," Vin told her as she dialed. "I was just a mite pissed off at the man I brought in. He managed to break a window in my cabin when he decided to break in. If the durn fool woulda just tried the door, he coulda just walked in." 

She smiled at him. "I understand. I'm Casey Wells, by the way." 

"Vin Tanner. Nice to meet ya," he said as he tip the bill of his hat.  

"Vin, let's go into my office," Chris said. The two men walked into a rather large but tastefully furnished office. A large painting of two cowboys riding through a valley hung over a black leather couch. Two gray and black cloth covered, deep cushioned chairs sat across from the couch, while two more just like it flanked a coffee table. Over the back of the couch was draped a red, yellow and black Indian blanket. The pine coffee table held a sculpture of a saddle slung over a fence rail and two end tables of the same pine held matching lamps with a howling wolf design. 

The desk in front of the large picture window appeared to be an adobe type material. Its black leather highback chair with padded arms looked comfortable enough to doze in. A computer took up one corner of the uncluttered desk, a handsome desk set and blotter the only other items on top. The built-in bookcase to the right of the window held several law enforcement manuals and notebooks. Several small photographs on the middle shelf surrounded a larger one in a pewter frame, this one of a beautiful red haired woman and a young towheaded boy. 

Chris led the way over to the sofa and they both sat down. Larabee glanced over at Tanner, as the younger man took an appraising look around the office.  

"This is nice," Tanner said.  

"Thanks. It's comfortable. I know this may sound odd, but I get the feeling we know each other," Chris ventured.  

"I don't recall meetin' ya before," Vin replied, also feeling a connection of some kind with the man sitting next to him. "I've done a fair amount of traveling, though, so I guess it's possible." 

"Yeah, maybe. I have a good eye for faces; maybe we have met somewhere before. Oh, well, guess it doesn't matter. Thanks again for bringing in Jacardi. You sure saved us a great deal of time and trouble if we would have had to track him down." 

"No problem. Glad I could help. I actually took him to the PD first, but when they told me Buck was here now, I just couldn't resist dropping by to say hello." 

"Well, you sure have an interesting way of introducing yourself. Listen, we had planned on heading out to lunch after the briefing. I'd like to buy you lunch for your trouble. Care to join us?" 

"Sure. I could eat." Vin gave Chris a little half grin.  

"Great." Chris was interrupted by the intercom on his phone. "Chris, Warden Landers on line one." "Thanks, Casey." He walked over to his desk and sat down, hitting the speaker button on his phone. "Warden Landers, good morning."  

"Larabee, what can I do for you?" The voice coming through the speaker sounded irritated, like he'd been interrupted from something more important. 

"I just thought you might be interested in sending transport to pick up your escaped prisoner." Chris said, and smiled at Tanner, who just raised an eyebrow. Silence greeted his statement, almost ten full seconds ticking by before Landers spoke again.  

"How the hell did you manage to find him already? We just sent you the info this morning!" 

"What can I say, I have a good team," Chris replied, winking at Vin, who chuckled at the man's obvious enjoyment in pushing the warden's buttons.  

"You're lucky, I'll give you that. You may have to hold on to him for a bit, my boys are all tied up with a new group we got in. May be tomorrow before I can get someone up there." Landers almost sounded pleased that Chris would be inconvenienced. While Landers was talking, Casey knocked on the door and walked in, laying a note down on Chris' desk. Glancing over it, Chris nodded at Casey and she left.  

"No problem. He'll be in the Tahoe PD jail, whenever you're ready. And Warden, you're welcome."  

"Yeah, whatever," the warden mumbled before hanging up without a good bye. 

Chris disconnected the phone. "Take that, asshole," he said. "And that conversation was well worth the price of your lunch, Vin." 

"I take it y'all don't like each other much," Tanner drawled, with just a smidgen of sarcasm.  

"He's like a burr under my saddle, and every once in a while I just like to buck back." 

A knock on the door was followed by Buck peeking his head in. "JD and I are gonna take Jacardi over to the jail. Did you call Folsom?" 

"Warden Landers assures me someone will be out, sometime, to pick him up." 

"Not a happy man, huh?" Buck asked with a smirk.  

"He's impressed by the swift service." Buck just laughed then turned to Tanner. 

"Vin, nice seeing you again. Don't stay away so long next time." 

"Vin's joining us for lunch, " Chris told him. "You and JD can meet us there. It shouldn't take you too long at the jail." 

"Nope. See you in about twenty minutes then." Chris reached for Vin's rifle and locked it in the gun cabinet on the wall next to the door. 

"Shall we?" Chris asked Vin, gesturing toward the door. Chris closed and locked his door behind him. Chris walked toward the outer office, when he noticed that Vin had stopped. He looked back and saw the other man staring at the frames that were hung up in the hallway.  

"Is that why ya took my gun, Glarabee," Vin remarked, reading the poster that had Chris' picture on it. "Afraid I was gonna round ya all up to collect these bounties?" Moving to the next one, he read out loud. "Wanted: Ezra 'I've got an ace up my sleeve' Standish. Charged with overuse of a dictionary and preening more than a southern belle going to the debutante ball. Reward for capture: Five-dollar earplugs for when he starts using those five-dollar words." 

"Hey, those are some mighty fine rewards. Wouldn't want to tempt ya. At least not before lunch," Chris replied. The two continued on and joined the other three in the outer office, where they headed out after telling Casey where they were going.  

"So, Buck tells me that you're a bounty hunter," Chris remarked after the waitress had left with their orders, and returned with their beverages.  

Tanner raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Buck, who just smiled and shrugged. A long moment of silence followed as Vin took a sip from his glass of beer.  

"Yeah, I am," he finally said.  

"You like it?" Chris asked.  

"It pays the bills." 

"Ever thought about something more consistent?" 

Vin smirked. "You mean like a real job?" 

"You were a sniper in the Army." 

Tanner's eyes narrowed at that statement, but Larabee couldn't tell if he was angry or just curious.  

"Been checking up on me?" he asked softly.  

The others around the table got very quiet, watching the by-play between the two men.  

"Truthfully? Yes." When Vin didn't respond, Chris leaned forward, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. "I'd like to have you on my team." Only JD and Ezra heard the hushed 'yes' that came from Buck, who had been pushing for Chris to talk to Tanner since they'd first started putting the team together.  

"Why me?" Vin asked.  

"I need a sniper and you come highly recommended." Again Tanner glanced over at Wilmington, who smiled and nodded at him. Vin just shook his head.  

"I ain't never been a cop. I don't have the background you're looking for." 

"Mr. Tanner, I don't have law enforcement experience," Ezra admitted. "Neither does Mr. Sanchez." Standish wasn't sure what prompted Chris to invite Tanner to join their team, but he respected the former federal marshal and would support this decision.  

"And my experience was as a Military Police Officer my first two years in the Army and the last few years as a reserve officer with Nye County Sheriff's Office," Nathan said.  

"Vin, this is a highly unusual group," Chris began. He went on to explain the reasons why the group had been formed.  

"Why me?" Vin asked again.  

"Because I want the best on my team," he said simply.  

"Doesn't answer my question." 

"Vin, is there a reason you don't want to join the team?" Josiah asked.  

"I work alone. I always have." 

"Vin, we really could use you," Buck said. "Not only are you the best sniper I've ever seen, you're a natural tracker. You're good in the woods."  

"I'll attest to that," Josiah added. "I remember search and rescues you've helped on over the years. If we have to go chasing anyone through the woods, I would follow you any day." 

Chris sat back and watched his men work. He hadn't really expected this, but then again he wasn't surprised. And he was glad to see it. The fact that two of the team already knew and respected Tanner was a huge point in his favor. Even Ezra, who hadn't met Vin, seemed amenable to having him on the team. And JD had been impressed that the man had brought Jacardi in on his own. The only one he would have to convince now was Tanner.  

The waitress interrupted the discussion with steaks all around and the men settled in to eat. The conversation turned to food and the pretty waitress, and Chris allowed the temporary detour. He hoped it would give Vin the chance to think over his options.  

After their plates had been removed and coffee served, Chris decided to broach the subject again, but was pre-empted by Nathan.  

"Vin, Josiah mentioned you got shot in the leg last year. Did you have to pay all your medical costs out of pocket?" 

"Yeah. So?" 

"If you join the team, you'd be a government employee with full benefits."  

Vin was quiet was a long moment. "I like being my own boss." 

Almost got you, Chris thought, seeing the thoughts easily read in Vin's facial expressions. "Vin, this is a very unique team. Yes, I am the leader of this motley group of misfits," he said, glancing around at the others, "but we each have our strengths. We'll be handling a wide variety of cases, anything from smuggling, to illegal gambling, to drug interdiction, to fugitive apprehension. We'll be available to help in search and rescues. We'll be working on both side of the California-Nevada border. And if we're successful, we could spread out to other states bordering California and Nevada." 

"Hell, we may even start a trend," Buck cackled.  

"I've been searching for a good sniper and haven't found anyone yet that fit my team's needs," Chris told him.  

"So, what makes you think I'm your man?" 

"My gut. I always try to listen to my gut instincts." 

"Could just be indigestion," Vin said, a half grin forming on his face.  

"Don't let the cook hear you say that," Buck insisted, glanced toward the kitchen. "The man is huge and takes his job very seriously."  

The waitress walked over and dropped the check on the table next to Chris. He pulled out his wallet and handed her a credit card. As the others reached for their wallets in order to pay their shares, Chris waved them off.  

"Let the AG pay for this one," he said. "I'll write it off as a business lunch, since we were trying to recruit Tanner." 

The others laughed as they got up to leave. They drove back to the office and Tanner retrieved his firearm. He walked into the outer office to find the team waiting.  

"You never did give us an answer, Mr. Tanner," Ezra reminded him. Vin looked around at the other, his gaze settling on Chris who had followed him out of his office.  

"I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll stick with what I'm doing."  

Chris nodded. "It was nice meeting you, Vin. Thanks for bringing in Jacardi. And if you change your mind, you know where to find us." Chris reached out his hand and Vin grasped it. The two men held the grip for several seconds, each feeling that strange connection again. Vin released his hand and left after also shaking hands with the others.  

Chris leaned against the doorframe of this office, a small grin on his face, and watched the lanky bounty hunter walk out the door.  

Buck looked over at his oldest friend, disappointed that they couldn't talk Tanner into joining them.  

"Damn, Chris, I thought we had him convinced." 

"You were right, Buck, I think he'll be a great addition to the team." 

"Yeah, he would have been. Too bad he didn't listen to our great recruiting spiel." 

"Yep, he'll fit right in."  

The others look at each other in confusion. Ezra looked over at the grin on Chris' face.  

"You think he will return, don't you Mr. Larabee?" 

"A good addition," Chris said, nodding his head thoughtfully. "I'll get Casey started on his paperwork as soon as she gets back from lunch." He nodded to himself again before turning and walking back into his office.  

The others again exchanged looks, all except Ezra, who just followed Larabee into the office.  

As if on cue, the remaining four hurried after them, all calling for an explanation. They wanted to know how Chris knew that Vin would be back.  

"Morning, Chris."  

"Vin." 

"Those benefits include a dental plan?" 

"Yep." 

"Good. I got this bad tooth…" 

THE END