With cat like grace Vin stalked towards the slight structure nestled against the trees, his Winchester rested in his right hand. Not a very religious man, Vin was still grateful for all the help they could get and gave his own silent thanks for Josiah discovery. It was mid-morning before he had led the last trooper through the narrow ravine that opened into the lush green meadow surrounded by the high canyon walls. A creek ran behind the shed, feeding into the canyon river where JD and a bunch of the troopers were staked out to cover covering the counterfeiters’ escape route. Vin saw movement through the window and cocked his rifle. A hand on his shoulder made him freeze as a voice whispered in his ear, “We want them alive, Tanner.” Major Winslow said had followed the tracker.

“Yessss… Sir,” Vin said in a low voice as his finger released the trigger. His voice held a new respect for the soldier. Turning Vin studied the major and was surprised at the change. The major was no longer the raw, quiet aide that followed the colonel’s orders. No, Vin thought, this soldier was a leader of men; you could see the determined battle worn gleam in his eyes and the tight stretch of his mouth.

“We want Shellburne alive at any cost,” Winslow stated, his voice laced with loathing for the mad dog. His tone softened when he added, “Tyrone, should be the one to put a bullet through the mad man’s heart. We all owe him that much.”

Vin was about to ask who the hell was Tyrone, when a voice bellowed out, “You, in the shed. You’re surround. Come out with your hands in the air.” Vin and the major turned their heads towards the direction of the voice to see the colonel standing a few yards from the shed, out in the open. A little way off to the right, Buck and Josiah had taken cover behind a cluster of boulders, peeking around shaking their heads. Half of C Troop was dismounted, rifles drawn, fanned out surrounding the front side of the shed.

“Is the Colonel insane?” Vin uttered.

“N,” Winslow told the tracker with a wolfish grin on his face before he advanced closer to the shed, taking cover behind the corral full of horses. Vin reached his side as the soldier pulled out his revolver.

“I’m only going to ask one more time. Throw your guns out the door and come out with you hands in the air. You have five minute before we start shooting.” Colonel Thomason pulled his timepiece from his vest pocket and watched the minutes tick by; one, two not a peep out of the shed. The Colonel put his timepiece away and slowly took off his blue coat and neatly handed it towards the soldiers behind him. A young trooper ran and grabbed the coat, then turned and backed away. Thomason took out his timepiece again, checking the time. His eyes darkened with anticipation for the coming battle.

“Ahhh…the fun begins,” Winslow said out loud as he saw the colonel take off his uniform coat. The major turned and said to Vin, “Here hold this,” as he handed his revolver over to the tracker. Vin was surprised when the major did the same as the colonel and took off his uniform coat, leaving him only in his blue checker shirt and his blue pants. “Thank you,” Winslow said to him as he took the revolver back.

Vin stared between the colonel and the major, both wore a blue ribbon around their upper left arm. A flag waving in the wind caught Vin’s eyes as a trooper walked up and stood by the colonel; he too wore a blue ribbon. The red and white flag of the First Division Cavalry Corps flapped in the wind. Soon, two more men carrying the flags of the Second and Third Division stood on the other side of Thomason.

“What’s going on Major?” Vin asked, his voice low and deadly. Staring at the color flags, Vin knew C Troop wasn’t just any ordinary regiment of troopers. He may have been young during the war, but every soldier, blue or gray knew what a blue ribbon around the left arm meant. They were the Blue Ghost’s men, his regiment.

“Justice,” Winslow stated, balancing against the corral and raising his revolver as the first shot was fired from the shed.

The return fire was deafening as the soldiers shouted and ran for cover. A new volley erupted out of the shed. A bullet ripped across Thomason’s shirt, leaving a bloody crease. The Union troopers returned fire, ripping holes through the shed door and shattering the glass windows.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Winslow yelled out to his boys. Buck drug the wounded colonel back toward the boulder and handed him over to Josiah.
The preacher immediately wrapped his scarf around the colonel’s arm, controlling the flow of blood.

“Watch out,” Vin yelled down at Winslow as he pushed him out of the way of a bullet flying through the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Vin saw one of the outlaws creeping out the side window. Taking aim, Vin shot the outlaw, the man dropped to the ground.

“Did you kill him?” Winslow asked.

“Winged him in the arm,” Vin returned.

“Too bad. If he sticks his head up again, kill him,” Winslow ordered the tracker. Vin shrugged his shoulder, a confused look on his face. Over the new volley of gunfire, the major answered Vin unspoken question. “Shellburne is the only one we need alive, the others already killed four of my men. So they forfeited their lives in my book.” Winslow turned a rigid stare back to the tracker and added, “Shellburne is slim, about forty, blond haired, graying around the temples. Drop any other outlaw. I don’t want any more of my men killed.” Both men turned their guns toward the movement behind the shed.


“Don’t fire…don’t fire. That’s JD,.” Buck called, crawling towards them.

“What’s that crazy kid trying to do? Get himself killed?” Winslow growled back. All three men watched as JD climbed the back of the shed, slipping once before he made it to the roof. His left hand held a blue coat, soaking wet from the creek. JD crawled on his belly until he reached the chimney. Careful not to burn himself, he pulled himself up and straddled the chimney. Slowly he climbed to the top and shoved the soaking coat down the stack, clogging the airway. Billows of white smoke drifted out of the window and under the door. The door soon slammed open and the outlaws rushed out, shooting as they attempted to get to their horses.

Vin shot the dark haired outlaw headed in their direction, The man dropped dead to the ground, blood flowing from his chest. JD shot the next one through the heart as the outlaw turned to fire up at the roof.

“JD! Get off the roof,” Buck shouted, giving cover fire as JD slid down the roof, both guns blazing in his hands. At the edge, the kid jumped and rolled when he hit the ground.

“Buck watch out!” JD screamed as he fired at the outlaw that had the womanizer in his sights. The outlaw fell to his knees with a yell, cradling his bloody gun hand.

“Drop it!” Josiah’s husky voice called out. He had the other two outlaws in his gun sight. Both men dropped their guns and raised their hands in the air.

Winslow stood, gazing out among the men, before turning to say, “Tanner, check the man over there against the shed. See if he is still alive.” Vin nodded and cautiously walked over to the outlaw. Both the major and Buck hastened over to the second outlaw that JD had dropped. Buck kicked the dead man over. “Don’t know this one,” Winslow told Buck. Not wasting time, he stepped over the body and headed towards the first outlaw the kid had shot from the roof. Winslow bent down and turned the dead man over. A grimace stretched across his face. “Where the hell was Shellburne?”

“Major!” Vin called out, “the one by the window is dead. Where’s Shellburne?” Vin’s heart turned cold at the expression on the major’s face.

“Vin, get over here.” Buck called over to the tracker as he reached down and pulled something out of one of the outlaw’s pants. Vin reached Buck’s side as the womanizer slipped Chris’ colt in his belt and then with a snarl threw his weight at the outlaw reaching for the man’s neck.

“Wilmington, stop!” Colonel Thomason shouted. Buck soon found his arms held as Vin and Josiah dragged him back from the outlaw. “Where’s Shellburne?” the colonel demanded as he advanced, holding his left arm between blood soaked fingers. “Major Winslow, report!”

“Sir, three dead and one wounded,” the major answered. Turning he added, looking at JD, “Good shooting kid.” JD felt his face turning red and he turned to stare at the ground, shuffling his feet.

“Where Shellburne?” Thomason demanded again.

“Sir,” Major Winslow turned, facing his commander and the four peacekeepers with a painful expression, “He’s not here,” he finally answered. A young trooper ran over and handed the major a package wrapped in brown paper. Winslow in turn, handed the package over to the colonel.

“What the hell do you mean he’s not here,” Buck heatedly shouted as the colonel opened the wrapped package. Silver plates tumbled out of the paper.

“We have them,” Thomason said to his men, holding up the plates.

“Colonel we don’t care about the plates,” Vin said in a low voice before he turned his face toward the direction of the town. “Chris is back in town with only Nathan and Ezra,” he reminded the other three peacekeepers.

“Damn, Damn,” Buck muttered as he followed Vin towards their horses, Josiah and JD hot on his heels.

~~~~~~~~~
It was late afternoon before Nathan and Ezra arrived in town with Chris riding between them. Nathan was worried; the cool morning air hadn’t been good for Chris’ weak lungs. By the time they reached Four Corners, Chris was covered in sweat and leaning forward on the saddle, painful coughs emanating from deep down in his chest. Nathan pulled Ginger’s reins to the right, pointing her towards the livery stables. However, Chris dug his spurs into Diablo’s flank guiding the black towards the blonde woman coming out of the Clarion.

Mary studied the frail looking gunslinger; he seemed so fragile as perspiration poured off his pale, gray complexion. Diablo came to a halt. Chris swung his leg over the saddle and as his right foot hit the ground, his knee buckled under the weight. Mary’s fingers dug into the post as Chris grabbed the horn, stopping his body from sliding to the ground. After a dreadful bout of coughing, Chris leaned his cheek against Diablo’s neck trying to catch his breathe as his lungs desperately sought to release the painful burning in his chest.

“Chris, slow even breaths or you’re going to pass out,” Nathan told the gunslinger as his hand rubbed Chris’ back in a circling manner, trying to smooth the tension out of the gunslinger’s shoulders.

“Mary,” Chris choked out between coughs, “You alright?” His glossy eyes searched her face. For a moment the gunslinger’s vision turned to the past and Chris thought it was his mother standing in front of him. Her beautiful blonde hair hanging around her shoulders as she stood there in her green calico dress. Chris blinked and raised a shaking hand to rub his eyes. Taking a step, he staggered against Nathan.

Mary gasped as the sun hit Chris’ blond hair sticking out beneath his black hat. His shoulders trembled as he stubbornly shook off Nathan’s hand on his arm. “I’m fine, Chris,” Mary finally answered. She was confused - her mind flashed back to that dreadful day many years ago. Mary looked the gunslinger over, his feverish eyes with their glossy expression reminded her of the young lieutenant. Could Chris be...could he be her young lieutenant? “Nathan, bring Chris inside,” her soft voice whispered.

“I don’t need help,” said Chris before a new cough racked his chest. Nathan turned toward Ezra and handed him Diablo’s reins, before walking over and grabbing his medical supplies from his saddlebag and hustling to move behind the gunslinger staggering into the Clarion.

Nathan called back over his shoulder to Ezra, “Hurry back. I’m going to need your help.” Ezra glanced towards Chris’ back and nodded, leading the big black towards the livery. Chris was leaning heavily on Mary’s desk as Nathan walked in. Taking the gunslinger’s arm, the healer directed him towards the back room. Slowly the two make their way to Mary’s bedroom where she waited with the bed turned down. “Mary, you sure about this?” Nathan asked.

“Nathan, don’t be a fool. Chris will never make it up those stairs to your room.”

Nathan helped Chris sit on the bed; wearily the gunslinger stared at the wall. Mary bent down and took off Chris’ boots placing them beside the bed. She moved to help Nathan lift Chris’ legs when Nathan’s voice stopped her, “Ahhh…Mary. I think it’s best if you let me handle Chris for the moment.” Mary’s face turned scarlet as blood rushed to her cheeks. She backed out the door, her eyes full of concern for the gunslinger. “Come on Chris let’s get you out of these sweaty clothes.” Nathan moved towards the gunslinger.

“Can’t stay here,” Chris’s raw voice uttered.

“Now don’t you argue with me.” A knock on the door stopped Nathan from saying anything more.

Mary’s face peeked around the door, holding a glass full of liquid. “I thought you might need this.” She handed Nathan a cup full of hot tea. At Nathan’s hesitation, she added, “My mama’s cure for everything. Don’t worry Chris will drink it.” She glanced towards the bed before stepping back out the door.

After taking the glass out of Mary’s hand, Nathan sniffed the tea and a grin tugged on his lips at Mary’s mother’s cure. Nathan walked over and placed the cup against Chris’s trembling lips. “Here Chris drink this up.” The gunslinger instantly drank the liquid laced with whiskey. The hot liquid had the desired effect and soon the gunslinger’s head was hitting the soft lavender scented pillows. “Oh no you don’t. Help me get your clothes off first,” Nathan told the sleepy man, sitting him back up. Chris fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as his head sunk lower and lower towards his chest.

“No,” Chris mumbled as Nathan reached to unbuckle his pants. “Mary’s room, not proper.” Again Nathan attempted to unbutton the gunslinger’s black pants. “No, go home,” a deep rattling cough escaped Chris’s lips. “Take me home.”

“I see our luminary leader is in his usual splendid mood,” Ezra remarked as he came through the bedroom door.

“Stop your complaining and get over here and help me with him,” Nathan ordered. Nathan and Ezra soon had Chris neatly nestled under the blankets in spite of the gunslinger’s hindrance. Chris’ aching body snuggled towards the warmth as he drifted off to sleep.

A few minutes later, Ezra stood outside the Clarion, examining the tall man entering the saloon. He had four hours before he had to relieve Nathan. With a gleam in his eyes, he made his way across the street heading for the saloon and a good game of poker. He had to win money to pay Tiny for hunting down those little piglets. Besides if he got caught, he could always say that he was keeping an eye out on the tall easterner. Ezra grinned in anticipation as he went through the double doors, his gold tooth sparkling in the light.

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