"Aww, c'mon, Ez! Stop being such a stick in the mud." 

"Mud, Mr. Dunne, is precisely what I am endeavoring to avoid!" 

Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez laughed as they watched their southern friend being dragged by Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne onto the muddy field where the celebration would take place. From their perch on top of the church, both men had a fantastic view of the town. They watched as the children scrambled about, excitedly helping the adults with the Founder's Day celebration that was to take place the next day. Due to the peaceful nature of the past few weeks, the town leaders had decided to hold the celebration for the first time since the town was founded. 

The seven peacekeepers had agreed to help with the festivities, including the now protesting Ezra Standish. The festivities included a variety of carnival-like games and booths and a picnic lunch. There were also several events planned such as horse racing and pie eating contests. Not surprisingly, Buck and JD had been the first to sign up for these events. But they had not only signed themselves up, they had also signed almost everyone else up, too! 

But for at least one of the seven, the carnival events were the least of his problems. . . 

"No." 

"But. . . ." 

"No." 

Mary Travis watched as Chris Larabee stalked away from her. She glared at his back, irreverently thinking how well-fitting his dark pants were. Shaking off the thoughts, she picked up her burgundy skirts and hurried after the gunslinger. She caught up to him by the side of the jail house, grabbing his arm to stop him. "If you would just listen for a minute. . . ." 

She wasn't ready for his reaction.  

Before Mary could blink, Chris had her pinned against the wall of the jail house, his long arms held her trapped, his lean body blocking her way. Mary brought her hands up to his chest in a defensive gesture.

"Oh!" 

"For the last time, Mary, no." 

Green eyes bore into blue-gray ones. 

Neither the man nor the woman noticed the looks thrown their way. While women twittered behind gloved hands and fans, the men leered at the tableau unfolding in the alleyway. Over the next few days, stories would circulate how 'Larabee's body was pressed close to Ms. Travis's, but not too close', and how 'Ms. Travis had her hands on his chest' – either fighting him off or caressing him – depending on who was telling the tale. 

Satisfied that he had won their battle of wills, Chris pushed away from Mary and the wall, resuming his trek towards the jail. Mary quickly recovered and determinedly followed. 

"Chris, you're perfect. . . ."  

The look and half-smile he threw over his shoulder had the Clarion editor rolling her eyes.  

"For the job," she finished. "You've got the leadership capability and everyone respects you. . . ." 

"You mean fears me." 

Mary ignored him. "You're good for the morale of the town, everyone trusts you. . . ."

"Yeah, as far as they can throw me," Chris threw sarcastically back at the woman trailing him. 

"You'd be the perfect mayor!" 

"Ha!"

"If anyone can, it'll be her," Buck said, as he hefted another long board onto his shoulder. 

Vin smiled from under the brim of his hat. "Yup." 

"So, Vin, you signin' up for the shootin' contest?" Buck held the board in place as Vin began hammering in the nail. 

"Thought you and JD already signed up for me." 

"Nah, Josiah said we might want to check with you first. So you gonna do it?" 

Vin shrugged. "Maybe, don't think so though." 

"The prize is a brand new Winchester rifle," Buck said as he tried to sweeten the prospect of the contest. "And I know you've been eyeing it – here's your chance." 

Vin smiled, looking up at his friend. "Buck, you sure do know how to tempt a man."  

Buck winked and grinned. "Well, I don't know about men but I can teach ya a thing or two about temptin' the ladies." 

"Mr. Dunne, what makes you think I have any bets. . . ." Ezra left off at the look the younger man threw at him. He then grinned, his dimples flashing and his gold tooth shimmering in the light. "Just a few."  

"You plan on sharin'?" 

"Why, of course." Ezra placed his hand over his heart in a mock demonstration of how deeply the comment hurt. 

"Great! I could use some money, right now," JD blurted out, cutting off the gambler. 

"Provided that you have a winning bet," Standish finished, feeling a twinge of regret at the disappointment flashing over the Sheriff's face. Shifting slightly, Ezra nonchalantly asked, "Pray tell Mr. Dunne, what would you need money for?"  

"Casey's birthday's comin' up and I gotta get her somethin' nice." 

"And do you have your eye on anything in particular?" 

"Nope, the last time I got her somethin' it was that frog gigger. She looked at it, said thanks then never mentioned it again." 

"Hmm, well, I can see how a gift such as that would engender such a reaction from the young lady." 

"You got any ideas what I should get her?" 

Ezra smiled, seeing the opportunity to make up for his earlier comment. "Indeed, I do, Mr. Dunne. Indeed I do." 

Barely glancing at Wilmington, Chris dryly added, "Or his daughter."  

Busting out in a grin, Buck plopped his hat back on his head. "Now, that there is my kind of work." Gulping down another drink, he kicked Nathan underneath the table to get his attention. Nodding his head slightly towards Chris once he had the former slave's attention, Buck craned his neck to look at the contemplative look on Chris' face. "I hear Mary's got some work she wants ya to do."  

"Hmph," Chris answered, still toying with the empty shot glass in his hand. 

"By the talk, Nathan, we're gonna need to buy us a new suit soon," Buck continued straight-faced, trying to sound innocent.  

"Why in the world would you need a suit?" Chris asked confused by the comment. Looking towards Nathan, he silently asked the medical man if he knew what Wilmington was referring to. Getting a negative shake of the head in reply, Chris looked back towards Buck.  

"For the ceremony of course. Can't attend something like that in these old things," Buck proclaimed, pulling at his shirt and bandanna to emphasis his point. Emptying the mug, the scoundrel plopped it noisily onto the tabletop. "No, siree. Buck Wilmington ain't gonna be wearin' nothin' less than his Sunday best at your wedding."  

Jerking upright in the chair, Chris let the full heat of his glare hit his long time friend. "What the hell are you talking about?"  

Holding up his hands, Buck burst out laughing at the confusion behind his friend's eyes. "Well, that's what people are saying. Word is she was chasin' you down the street and you was running just as fast as you could. Even had to pin her against the wall for awhile to get her to leave ya alone," he added, nudging Nathan again in glee.  

Throwing Wilmington one last scathing glare, Chris settled back. "She wants me to run for Mayor."  

"Mayor?" Nathan exclaimed, grinning at the mental image of the scene being described to him and Chris' reaction to it. "Folks would have to elect ya wouldn't they?"  

"Them there town meetings would be a lot shorter iffin' that happened," Vin Tanner said, sitting down after coming up to the table and overhearing the last of the conversation. Leveling an even gaze at Chris, he asked, "So, ya gonna run?" 

"Told her no," Chris replied. Deliberately changing the subject, he glanced around the unusually full saloon before standing up. "Lot of people already in town," he observed. "Make sure you keep an eye out for trouble tomorrow."  

"Sure thing," Vin drawled, waiting until Chris was a couple steps away from the table before he added, "Mayor."  

"And how is he goin' find out?" 

The two voices barely rippled the silent darkness surrounding them as their owners stealthily moved about the room. 

"The man is not stupid. . . ." 

"Exactly! He's perfect for the job!" 

"I don't know, I still don't think he's gonna to like this." 

"What is he goin' to do? Shoot us?" 

"He might." 

A disbelieving snort filled the air as the two conspirators continued their work. 

"Good Morning, sir." 

"Wonderful morning isn't it, sir?" 

Chris knew something was up the second he emerged from his rented room. People who normally didn't talk to him were respectfully tipping their hats and greeting him like an old friend. Several of the town's prominent male citizens actually approached Larabee with their hands extended. After the shock of the first handshake, the gunslinger's glare made others think twice about holding out their hands. It was damn strange. But Chris shrugged, thinking that today's upcoming festivities were getting everyone into a better mood. He adjusted his black flat brimmed hat and headed over to the hotel for breakfast. 

"Morning, Chris." The voices rose in unison at their leader's entrance. Larabee raised a single brow at the excessive cheerfulness of his friends. 

"Any of ya noticed anything strange 'bout the townsfolk this morning?" Chris grabbed his usual seat and nodded his thanks to the waiter as the man placed his meal down. 

"Nope." 
"No." 
"Naw." 
"Not a thing." 
"Certainly not, Mr. Larabee." 
"Not at all." 

Larabee leaned back in his chair, surveying his friends who, all of sudden, seemed much too interested in their breakfast. His green eyes settled on Vin's bent head. Vin could feel his friend's gaze rest on him, but refused to meet Chris's eyes. Chris knew that Tanner would never tell him a damn thing. . . especially if he didn't want to.  

"JD?" Chris watched as the young man swallowed hard.  

"Yes, sir?" JD meekly answered, not lifting his head from his meal. 

"Anything you want to tell me?" 

JD vigorously shook his head, sending his long bands into his face. "No. . . no, sir." 

Chris couldn't decide if JD's shaking meant that he afraid to tell him or if the youth was trying not to laugh out loud. Either way, the young man wouldn't meet his eyes. . .a sure sign that someone was lying. 

Before Chris could question his friends further, Mrs. Potter's voice rang out. "Mr. Larabee! It's so good to know that you're running! Why, I just feel safer knowing that you'll be running the town as well as protecting us too! Be assured, Mr. Larabee, you have my vote!"

Chris numbly shook the widow's hand, his confusion plain as the nose on his face. Behind him, Chris could hear the snickers of his friends. When the woman took a breath, he seized his opportunity. "Mrs. Potter, I'm not running." 

The widow frowned. "But the campaign posters!" 

"Campaign posters?" The words were growled. 

"Why, y--yes. They're all over town. . . you didn't see them?" Mrs. Potter was confused, how could a man who saw everything not see the campaign posters with his name slapped across them. "You didn't put them up?" 

Larabee's eyes were hard as he answered. "No, ma'am, but I know who did." 

"I told you I wasn't running and then you go and do somethin' like this?"  

Mary's eyes further widened as she realized that the man was positively seething. "I haven't done anything against your wishes," Mary stammered. 

"Then what the hell is this?!?" Larabee threw a piece of crumpled paper onto her desk.  
Mary quietly reached for it, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Chris Larabee for Mayor! He ain't just any cowboy!" A small smile touched her lips but it faded when she looked up into his angry eyes. "Chris, I didn't do this." 

"Then who the hell did? You're the only one with the printin' press to do this kind of work!" He vaguely waved his hand towards the aforementioned equipment.  

"I don't know, but it wasn't me. . . ." Mary's words trailed off and her eyes widened in realization. 

"Mary?" Her name was a soft growl on his lips that sent shivers up and down her spine. 

"Last night, I had dinner with Orrin, Evie, and Billy but when I came home I found ink on the press. I thought I had forgotten to clean it after yesterday's edition." 

"But you didn't, did you?" Chris had watched Mary meticulously clean all of her equipment many times before and knew the pretty widow wouldn't have forgotten to clean the machine. He also knew there were only a few other people who could have operated the machine. His face fell into a mask of contemplation. 

"Chris, what are you thinking? Who would break in here just to use my press?" Mary stepped closer to him and touched his arm bringing him back from his thoughts. 

Chris grinned. "They used your press." 

"They? They who? One of the others?" Chris's grin widened. . . Mary was sharp. "So which one was it?"

Chris smiled a rather unholy smile. "I'm not sure, but I've got a plan. Wanna help?" 

Mary's answering smile was just as naughty.