Four Corners had returned to normal. The confrontation the day before was still the topic of enthusiastic conversation and the lead story in Mary’s newspaper. Confidence in the Seven had reached an all time high. The men had been enjoying free drinks and no end of compliments.

Unfortunately, Ezra could not profess to be enjoying the attention. He had been unable to convince anyone to join him in a game of chance. It had been well over a week since the professional gambler had played a game that challenged his sense of competition and rewarded his purse. Unfortunately, the young man’s reputation preceded him and no one was willing to engage him in any card game. Disgruntled, Ezra wandered over to the church where Josiah and Nathan were seated on the steps.

“Could I tempt you two gentleman into a battle of wits? You may choose the game.” The cards in Ezra’s hands danced in the sunlight as he shuffled them with the speed and dexterity of a master.

“No, thanks, Ezra. I’ve lost all of the money I can afford this week,” Nathan muttered.

“I’ll play chess with you,” Josiah offered, inclining his head to the chessboard that was sitting between he and Nathan.

“Chess?” Standish’s face screwed up as if the word itself was distasteful.

“Chess is a game of skill, strategy and wits.”

“As is poker,” Ezra claimed, eying the chess board as he calculated the odds.

Josiah grinned. “Chess or nothing.”

“Mr. Sanchez, chess is a game that does not welcome lady luck, and I’m afraid her company is essential for any true game of wit. Therefore, I must decline.” Standish tipped his hat, pocketed the cards, turned and wandered off in search of a willing, but more importantly, gullible opponent with plenty of money to lose.

Further up the street, Mary Travis was delivering papers to Four Corners’ citizens.

“Good morning, Joe. Paper?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Travis. You write about the gun battle yesterday?

The young woman smiled and handed him a copy of her latest edition. As she did so, the stagecoach from Eagle Bend bustled into town.

Hearing the noisy carriage, Buck and J.D. exited the livery to see what or who may be aboard. Buck’s step had a true spring in it. The lady’s man loved the arrival of the stage. There was always a chance that a fair damsel may be a passenger - someone he could delight and dazzle with his animal magnetism.

“Hurry-up, J.D. We don’t want someone else to greet them fine ladies aboard.”

J.D. smiled at his friend as he jogged to keep up. “What fine ladies? You don‘t know there are any fine ladies, Buck.”

Chris Larabee lifted his feet up to rest on the rail of the saloon porch. The Seven’s leader watched the stage pull in. Automatically, he surveyed the street for signs of trouble. All was quiet. Larabee smiled as he watched Ezra peer into the window of the coach. Like Buck, the gambler was always keen to see if any of the passengers would fulfill his needs. Clearly no one presented as an interest, for Standish turned shaking his head with genuine disappointment and continued along the promenade.

Vin ambled out of the saddler‘s shop and stepped down into the street. He caught Larabee’s eye and started in the direction of his friend. The young man paused when he spotted Gloria Potter exit her store. Assuming that the woman had goods that she needed unloaded from the stage, Vin rerouted and headed directly across to the carriage.

Without warning, a group of eight miners who had entered the town peacefully some hours earlier, emerged from an alley on horseback and started firing their weapons! All of the Seven’s heads snapped in the direction of the stampeding mob. Before any of the regulators had responded to the sudden appearance of the brainless group, one of the riders leveled his gun at Ezra and fired. Standish cried out in surprise as the bullet struck him and threw him backwards.

Buck and J.D. rushed forward returning fire, each taking down one of the wild riders while placing themselves between the injured regulator and the attacking enemy.

“Drag him back!” Buck roared at J.D.

Nathan and Josiah leaped down the stairs of the church, the chessboard between them flying over the railing. The pair drew, their well-aimed bullets stopping two of the miners in their tracks.

Chris Larabee’s feet hit the ground, his gun snapping into his hand. He took four men down with single shots that left his weapon at the speed of light. “Get down! Everyone down!”

Vin Tanner’s eyes grew wide. Unlike his companions, he did not draw his weapon. Instead, he was anticipating the reaction of the stagecoach horses. Startled by the sudden noise, the animals bolted directly toward Gloria Potter!

“Nathan!” Buck roared, turning to examine Ezra. “Ezra’s hit!” The healer jogged over and dropped beside his friend. Nathan removed J.D.‘s hand that was covering the wound and stemming the blood flow. “I need my bag!”

Josiah, Chris and Buck stepped out into the street, their revolvers aimed at the fallen men who had made the mistake of accepting money to cause the disturbance.

Like his companions, Chris Larabee had half of his attention on the men rolling around on the ground in front of him and the other half on Ezra. He knew his friend was in good hands now that Nathan had reached him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw the stagecoach lurch forward.

A shouted cry filled the street! “LOOK OUT!”

For a split second, time paused. Larabee’s, along with every other person’s head, shot in the direction of the shouted warning.

Gloria Potter froze in terror as the stagecoach bore down on her.

Larabee’s mind was racing. He knew he wasn’t close enough to do anything and shooting the startled horses would not stop the momentum of the stagecoach itself. He prepared to turn away. Chris had seen people trampled before and it wasn’t something he wished to see again.

Before the Seven’s leader could react, a blur hit the portly woman from the right and literally catapulted the terrified storeowner to the side of the road and out of harm’s way. Larabee’s eyes widened. In that moment, the blur took form in his mind.

To the horror of all those looking on, Vin Tanner disappeared among the hoofs and wheels of the coach!

“My, God!“ Buck cried.

J.D. started running toward the stage, urged forward by his need to help his friend. The young sheriff watched the flash of legs, hoofs and spinning carriage wheels. Vin was in there somewhere!

Chris Larabee stopped breathing. He screamed Vin’s name, but the anguished cry remained locked inside his head. Chris felt his heart twist. His mind filled with an image of his wife and son. It was happening again!

The stagecoach continued on down the street leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. As the air cleared, everyone looked down. All expected to see the mangled mass that had constituted Vin Tanner laying bloodied in the middle of the street, but the road was empty! Standing between the carriage tracks was the sharpshooter - dusty, but very much alive!

Chris couldn’t move. He felt numb, his mind rejecting the image of Vin standing there alive. Experience convinced him that praying it had all been a terrible mistake or dream was futile. When someone was dead, they didn’t come back.

The stunned atmosphere that had blanketed the rest of the town, lifted.

“HE’S ALIVE!” J.D. rushed to the sharpshooter’s side. “Vin? How...? Are you alright?”

Tanner took a long steadying breath and then nodded, reaching for his upper arm. He had rolled down the centre avoiding the horses’ legs and the carriage’s wheels. Vin searched the road for Gloria Potter. His eyes caught the strangled look on Chris’ face. Are you okay, Chris? Larabee appeared frozen. Surprised by his friend’s reaction, Vin gave Chris a half grin. I’m okay, Cowboy.

The grin and exchanged look of reassurance freed Chris from the hell he was living. Vin was alive! The gunfighter forced away the terror and the memories the incident had dredged to the surface of his mind. He nodded his acceptance and relief and then turned to round up the eight men who had caused the chaos.

“Are you alright?“ J.D. repeated, watching Vin rub his upper arm tentatively. The sheriff was leaping from one foot to the other, his voice so loud it could have been heard in Australia!

“Hoof caught my arm,” Vin explained quietly.

“You went under the stagecoach!” the youth cried. J.D. was absolutely astounded. “I can’t believe you weren’t trampled! How did you do that?” He was circling Vin, studying him from all angles to confirm that it was actually Vin.

“Mrs. Potter okay?” Tanner asked, stepping through the astonished crowd that was gathering around him. Like J.D., the citizens of Four Corners were all trying to confirm what they were seeing.

To Vin’s relief, Mary had helped the storeowner to the side of the road and assisted her to sit on the top step outside her shop. The sharpshooter strode across to the pair. “Mrs. Potter? I didn’t hurt you did I?” he asked, lifting the woman to her feet.

“Thanks to you, Gloria is fine,” Mary encouraged. She could see the other woman was in shock. “She’s had a terrible fright and has a little bit of gravel rash, but otherwise, she‘s in good health. Aren‘t you, Gloria?” The storeowner nodded and forced a grin. Vin waited until he was sure that Mrs. Potter was steady on her feet and then stepped back.

“Had no time to be gentle, Ma‘am. You sure you‘re okay? You want Nathan to have a look at you?”

Gloria shook her head. “I‘m okay,” she whispered.

“Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll make you a strong cup of coffee and we‘ll bathe those scratches?” Mary suggested, offering her arm. The other woman nodded, leaning on Mary for support. The pair started down the street toward the newspaper office.

“Gloria?” Mary asked as her friend stopped. The dazed storeowner glanced back at Vin, pulled free of Mary, walked up to the young sharpshooter and put her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered in a shuddering voice.

Vin eased her away, smiled and tipped his hat that had somehow stayed on his head throughout the incident. “Glad to have been of service, Ma’am.”

**

“I need a hand over here,” Nathan called. “I need to move Ezra up to my clinic.”

“That heathen shot me!” Standish proclaimed with disgust. His voice, while laced with a certain amount of pain, was strong and clear.

J.D. smiled at Vin. If Ezra was complaining, he was okay. “He won’t be shooting anyone else, Ez. Chris got the one that shot you.“

“How is he?” Larabee called from across the street.

“Took the bullet in his forearm. Went straight though. Just needs some stitches, though it’s bled a lot. A day’s rest and he’ll be fine.”

“Fine! I beg to differ. This has been a most traumatic experience and I do believe... OW!” Ezra protested as Buck threaded the injured man’s good arm over his shoulder and eased him to his feet. “What?! I’m expected to walk to my own sickbed?! I‘ve been shot!”

J.D. watched Buck and Nathan more or less carry a complaining Ezra up the stairs to the clinic. The youth turned to check on the miners, but Josiah and Chris had already disappeared into the jail with them. The boy jogged after Vin who was heading for his wagon.

“It was one of them gunfighters that was with Royal’s men yesterday that shot Ezra. He probably paid the miners to cause a fuss so he could shoot, Ezra.”

Vin nodded.

“I wonder why he picked Ezra. Just the first one of us he spotted?”

Again, Vin nodded.

“Your arm okay? I tell you, for a moment there, I thought that you... I mean, you went under the horses’ legs!”

Vin was aware that J.D. was talking, but he heard nothing. Tanner’s head felt like it was exploding. His eyesight had become blurred. His world lurched to the right. Vin’s pace slowed.

“Vin? You okay?” J.D. asked, watching as the sharpshooter’s face stripped of colour in front of his eyes. “Vin?!” The other man began blinking. J.D. reached for his companion’s arm. “Vin? Can you hear me?”

Buck, who had just descended the stairs from the clinic, spotted Vin and J.D. heading up the alley. The scoundrel’s brow furrowed. Vin didn‘t look real steady on his feet. Wilmington raced up behind Tanner and caught the tracker as his legs buckled and his stomach lurched. The scoundrel lowered Vin to his knees and supported him as he vomited.

“Vin?! Buck, he was okay and then... what’s wrong with him?!”

“J.D., go get Nathan.” Wilmington’s voice was excessively calm. “Did you hit your head?” he asked as Vin regained control.

“Yeah. Hit it on the ground,” Vin confirmed. His world was still spinning out of control.

Buck noticed blood oozing down the back of the young man’s neck. “Relax, Pard. I’ve sent for Nathan.”

“Huh?“ Vin was finding it hard to focus. Suddenly he realized someone was grabbing him. Instinctively, Vin began to struggle. He had to fight to protect himself from whoever was trying to capture him.

“Easy, Vin.” The voice was warped but familiar.

“Chris?”

“We‘ve got you, Cowboy.” Tanner relaxed and stopped thrashing.

Larabee and Wilmington settled the injured man between them.

“Hit my head on the ground. Didn’t think I’d hit it that hard,” Vin explained as his friends assisted him to negotiate the stairs. Nathan met them on the landing and coaxed them into the small room that acted as a hospital ward. There was only one bed and Ezra was seated on that. J.D. was standing in front of the injured man, holding the needle and thread that Nathan had been using to stitch the hole in Standish’s arm.

“J.D. don’t pull on the thread. I’m half way through stitching him up.” Nathan turned to the newcomers. “Put him in the chair.”

“Mr. Tanner? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Vin assured the gambler. “Just feel a bit dizzy. Hit my head on the ground. I‘m feelin‘ better now.”

“Just threw his guts up,” Buck argued as he and Chris assisted Vin to sit.

Nathan nodded and then inclined his head for Larabee and Wilmington to move out of the way.

“Still feeling sick?” Nathan asked as he examined Vin’s pupils. One was dilated the other the size of a pin.

“Stomach feels a bit churned up,” the sharpshooter admitted.

Nathan inspected Vin’s ears for signs of bleeding. “He lose consciousness?” the healer called to Buck who had retired to the landing with Chris.

“No, but he couldn’t stand up.”

Nathan was nodding. “You‘ve got a hell of a lump on your head.” The healer reached for a swab and cleaned the wound. “Only a small cut. You don‘t need stitches.”

“Good.”

“Open your mouth.”

“My mouth?” Vin exclaimed.

“I need to see if there’s any internal bleeding.”

“I hit my head, Nathan. I’m fine. Just need some rest.”

“You need to stay awake for the next eight hours.”

“Huh?”

Nathan took Vin‘s chin and tilted the young man‘s head slightly. Immediately, Vin‘s world reeled again. The healer put a steadying hand on his friend‘s shoulder. “You’ve got a concussion. I don’t want you sleeping for the next eight hours. J.D., help Ezra off the bed. He can come and sit in this chair. Vin, get your boots off and lay down in the bed.”

“You just said I couldn’t sleep.”

“Sleep no. Rest, yes,” the healer growled.

Vin rose to his feet. His legs no longer felt like rubber and his head, while aching, was bearable. “I’d rather rest in the saloon.“ Nathan considered arguing. Tanner didn’t like the clinic. He couldn’t see anyone coming. In the saloon, he had a good view of anyone trying to sneak up on him.

“You’ve got to rest.“

“I will.”

Nathan continued to study his friend. Vin was white and his pupils were different sizes. “I want you to rest,” the healer reiterated.

“Exactly what I intend doin‘. I’ll be in the saloon if you want me.”

“If you start to feel dizzy or sick again, I want you back here. If you start to feel sleepy... back here.”

“You got my word, doc. How you doin’ Ezra?”

“I feel like a half stitched up turkey!” Standish complained. “I hear you took a dive under the stagecoach?”

Vin smiled. “Somethin’ like that.” Tanner turned and stepped out onto the landing.

Buck and Chris were waiting.

“You okay?” Chris asked.

“Concussion,” Vin offered. “I can’t sleep for the next eight hours. Nathan says I’m fine.”

“That all he said?” Buck demanded.

Vin ignored the question. Larabee‘s face showed suspicion. Vin shrugged. He didn‘t like admitting he was hurt. An injury marked weakness and weakness was fatal if you had a bounty on your head, but this was Chris and Buck. He trusted both men. Vin knew they were two of six people who would die trying to protect him. “He said I’ve gotta rest. I’m gonna do that. Thought I’d get me a chair in the saloon and relax for a few hours. If I feel dizzy again, I’ll go back and see Nathan.”

Chris Larabee didn’t move.

I’m okay, Chris. Really.

“Mind some company while you’re sitting relaxing?” Larabee asked. His voice was a whisper. Chris couldn’t shed himself of the memories that were accosting him. The images of his wife and son... the way they had looked when he had found them. Chris felt sick and he felt confused. He didn’t understand why this was happening now. He hadn’t been tormented by the images and nightmares since coming to Four Corners. His emotions were so... he couldn’t get his mind around it enough to reflect on what it was that he was feeling. What he did know was that he felt damn relieved that Vin was okay.

“Reckon that sounds good, Cowboy.” Still Chris stood. Finally he offered his hand. Vin took his friend’s forearm. The younger man didn’t understand what was amiss but he was happy to provide any reassurance he could.

The arm shake was held for several more seconds and then the pair turned and shoulder to shoulder, set off for the saloon.

Buck hung back, not wanting to interrupt the private exchange. The scoundrel watched the non-conversation intrigued. He had known Chris for twelve years. Before Chris had met his wife and settled down, he had been rowdy, untamed and wild. Buck smiled as memories of their shared youth filled his mind. Then Chris had met Sarah and his life calmed - a ranch, a wife and a son. Larabee had everything his heart desired. He had been open with his emotions and didn’t care who saw the genuine love he felt for his family. To Buck’s great appreciation, Sarah and Chris had welcomed him into their home. It was then Buck realized the difference between family and friendship. Friendship was based on trust, loyalty and affection. Family was love and Buck had loved Chris, Sarah and Adam with his whole heart.

Unfortunately, the fairytale had been shattered in the blaze that had consumed Chris‘ ranch. Sarah and Adam had died a horrific death and Chris blamed himself because he hadn’t been there to protect them. Buck shouldered some of the blame himself. After all, Buck too had lost his family that day.

After the incident, Chris had changed - they both had. Larabee became someone that Buck didn’t know. Despite his every effort to ease his best friend’s pain, Buck couldn’t and Chris pushed him away... or perhaps, Buck had walked away. While he couldn’t claim his pain or guilt was equal to Larabee’s, Buck had been hurting and he needed time to come to terms with his own loss.

When Larabee had sought him out three years later to help with protecting an Indian village, Buck’s heart had rejoiced. Larabee still wasn’t the man he had been, but he seemed prepared to reinvest in their friendship - no longer the deep commitment that came with family, but the true affection, loyalty and trust of friendship. Then, after the Indian village situation was over, Chris had announced he was riding to Tascosa with Vin Tanner - just like that! There was so much Buck felt he and Chris needed to resolve. Hurt and angry, Buck had convinced himself he didn’t care, but he did.

It had been so strange watching Larabee seek someone else‘s opinion, or choose to ride next to another. There had been a time when he and Chris had been inseparable. At first, Buck had felt misplaced. He wasn’t sure what his role in Larabee’s life was any longer. He wanted, at the very least, to be the gunfighter’s best friend again, but that place appeared to have been filled by Tanner. Wilmington had come to terms with that. Vin was a good man and Buck liked him. Now, however, after watching Larabee’s reaction to Vin’s near miss, Buck started to reassess his initial thoughts. Perhaps he and not Tanner, was Larabee’s best friend.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Buck muttered. He had never thought he’d see the day when Chris would open his heart again, but as clear as he was standing there, Buck had seen the deep emotion held in Larabee’s eyes. Chris was prepared to invest in Tanner, that had been clear from the outset. Larabee’s reaction to Vin being hurt that morning was different to what it had been two weeks earlier when the sharpshooter had slipped on Potter’s dew wet roof and come crashing to the ground. That day, Chris had been concerned like everyone else. Today, he had actually shown distress. Whether Chris had realized it or not, Vin had taken the next step. Buck could recognize the difference for he understood the distinction between being Larabee’s best friend and being his brother.

Abruptly, a wave of concern flooded the happy scoundrel. Had Chris consciously realized any of this? Buck doubted it. Chris was intelligent man, but he wasn’t someone who understood himself very well. Wilmington frowned. He prayed that Chris wouldn’t force Vin away when he did realize how close he and Tanner had become. Chris needed a brother like Vin - someone who would stand up to him and yet back him up no matter what the situation. Tanner had done both things in the past. Buck had watched Vin and Chris have some fierce arguments because Vin wasn’t prepared to do everything Larabee’s way and Chris Larabee liked his own way. His reputation with a gun usually saw that he got it too. That wasn’t so with the quietly spoken tracker because Vin didn’t fear Larabee’s gun. It had been bizarre seeing someone say, “stuff what you think, Larabee!” Buck had been certain that no man would get away with speaking to Chris like that, now he understood why Vin did. The reserved tracker had crept through Larabee’s defences, breeching the barrier of friendship and entering the zone that was reserved for family - a zone that Chris had closed to the world after the death of his wife and son.

For the first time, Buck truly understood what had happened three years earlier. Chris had forced Buck from the region close to his heart as a result of fear. Larabee could not, and would not face losing someone else who meant so much too him. Buck also believed that he could never find his way back there. That was the past and despite the great affection Buck still held for Chris, it was too painful for either them to go back to the way things had been.

Buck watched Vin and Chris as they disappeared into the saloon. Wilmington found himself genuinely concerned. Based on all he had seen, he was certain Chris hadn’t realized how close he had become to Vin. When Larabee did realize, how would he react? Clearly, he would be forced to make a decision. Either accept the pain and joy that came with accepting the love and responsibility of family, or reject it by forcing those he cared away. Somehow Buck suspected that in order to protect himself and Vin from the debilitating pain of loss that could steal a man’s soul and cripple his happiness forever, Chris may well chose the safety of loneliness, but Buck was certain that was the wrong decision.

*********

The dust covered cowboy dismounted and tied his horse loosely to the hitching post. He approached the front door apprehensively. The note he held in his filthy hand was not good news and considering Guy Royal’s mood after the fiasco in town the day before, the ranch hand wasn’t looking forward to being the bearer of it.

“Mr. Royal?”

The cattle baron glanced over at the door from his large leather arm chair. “What is it Dennison?”

“Just got this wire from the boys over at Peter’s Gap. They won’t be back tomorrow.”

“What?!”

Dennison swallowed and stepped forward. He passed the piece of paper to his employer. “Don’t sound like they’ll be back for a week, maybe more.”

Royal snatched the piece of paper and scanned it. Cursing loudly, he leaped to his feet, glared at Dennison as if the entire situation was his fault and then screwed the note up into a ball and hurled it at the wall. “Great!”

The ranch hand excused himself and left quickly. Guy Royal picked up the book he had been reading and then hurled it across the room as well. Half of his boys were over at Peter’s Gap and he had been depending on them to get back tomorrow so that he could help with the tree felling, not to mention re-enforcing the numbers at the ranch just in case the Seven took it into their head to... Royal’s brow furrowed. His head snapped around to the wall. The rancher crossed the room, picked up the ball of paper and flattened it out. He reread the contents. A smile presented on his face as an idea formed in his mind.

“I do believe we have struck water!”

“Dennison, get back in here!”

The ranch hand raced back into the room, nervously kneading his hat in his hands.

“How long is the journey from Peter’s Gap?”

“Only about an hour and a half, Sir. Why?”

Royal smiled, grabbed a pen from his desk and scribbled a message on the back of the original note. “I want that wired to Peter’s Gap, now!”

“Yes, Sir,” Dennison confirmed accepting the note and rushing from the room.

Guy Royal walked across to his armchair and dropped into it. He picked up his pipe and lit it. The smile of triumph on his face became a chuckle. “Fire with water.”

*********

“One of them gunfighters was with the mob,” Vin muttered. The words seemed to echo in the silence. The saloon was littered with a few regulars but basically the room was empty.

Larabee nodded. “He shot Ezra.”

“You reckon Royal put him up to it?”

“I don’t know. Josiah’s been questioning them since we locked them up.” Chris had left to check on Ezra as soon as the miners were behind bars, but had discovered Vin hurt. Since then, he hadn’t gone back to investigate the prisoners. For some reason they hadn‘t entered his mind.

Chris noticed Vin reach for his arm. It was the fifth time he had done so in the four hours they had been seated together. “Arm okay?”

“Hoof caught it.” Larabee frowned. “Just bruised,” Vin claimed.

The two men settled back into a thoughtful silence. Vin’s mind was occupied with thoughts of Royal and whether or not the cattle baron may take out his rage on innocent people like Nettie Wells. Chris, on the other hand, found his mind moving in a vacuum. He couldn’t seem to form thoughts and he didn’t understand why. Something was distracting him. Perhaps he was coming down with something? His chest felt tight and his head was pounding. The memories of his past life were still there and despite his active attempts to force them away, he couldn’t.

The aggrieved man flicked his eyes to his silent companion. They had both been quiet since retiring to the saloon. Not that that was unusual. He and Vin often sat for hours on end not talking. Normally Chris found such times peaceful and relaxing. That wasn’t the case today.

To Larabee’s persistent discontent, Vin still looked pale. The gunfighter had been waiting for an improvement in his friend’s colour, but it hadn’t come. The younger man was naturally tanned from hours spent in the sun, but that tan seemed to have faded considerably since the accident.

“You feeling alright?” It was a thought that had somehow become a voiced concern.

“Yep,” Vin answered without looking over at his companion. “You reckon Royal will retaliate?”

“Maybe.”

“We should post a guard throughout the night, just in case.”

“Probably a good idea,” Chris agreed.

“I’ll head out and spend the night at Nettie’s. Royal may decide to target her.”

“Two of us will have a better chance of holding him off if he does decide to cause trouble.”

“Ain’t no need, Chris. I don’t reckon he’s game to hurt Nettie now, but... I just want to be sure.”

“Okay. I’ll stay in town.”

Vin shot his friend a curious look. Larabee’s voice was tinged with anger. Somethin’ wrong?

“You want a drink?” Tanner was surprised. Chris knew he didn’t drink during the day. Something was definitely troubling his friend, but Vin knew better than to push. Chris would ask for help if he wanted it. If he didn’t, then he deserved to be left alone so he could deal with his problem in his own way. Vin respected Chris enough to allow him that privilege. After all, Tanner hated people butting in to his affairs.

“Don’t reckon I should. Head’s buzzing as it is.”

“Bad?”

“Nahh, but I don’t reckon whiskey will help none.”

“If your head’s hurting, you should go back and see Nathan.” Again it had started as a thought and had somehow moved to his mouth. Larabee’s frown deepened. He couldn’t understand what the hell was going on. Usually he was completely in control, but for some reason he seemed to be reacting and not consciously making decisions. That was dangerous. He couldn’t afford such a luxury. What the hell was wrong with him today?

Vin smiled. “Head’s as hard as rock, Chris. I wonder how Ezra is?”

“He’s fine,” Buck announced, pulling out a chair and joining the pair. He had left the men alone for four hours but he had decided to come and check that they were both okay. Rightly or wrongly, Buck had a bad feeling. “Nathan released Ezra from the clinic a couple of hours back. He went to his room to rest. Should have heard the hullabaloo he was causing. Reckon that means he’s fine. The more Ezra crows the better he’s feelin’. How’s your head, Vin?”

Tanner snorted and rose to his feet. “Reckon I’ll head out to Nettie’s. Want to check that she got back okay. I’ll spend the night. Be back some time tomorrow morning.”

Larabee shrugged. Buck looked appalled. Not only at the thought of Vin riding anywhere in his condition, but also by Larabee’s apparent disinterest.

“Nathan said you were supposed to rest for eight hours.”

“Nope, he said I couldn’t sleep for eight hours. Don’t intend sleepin‘. Just gonna sit on my fanny. Ridin’ is restin’. Ain’t that far to Nettie’s.”

“I don’t think you should be going on your own,” Buck argued. “Do you, Chris?” He’d offered Larabee an invitation to express his concern. Surely Chris would take it.

“Ain’t goin’ alone. J.D. said he wanted to come when I went.” The sharpshooter smiled. “Took him a whole ten minutes to tell me it had nothin’ to do with wantin’ to go out and see Casey.”

Buck grinned. “Yep, the boy’s smitten.” Before the scoundrel could reiterate his opposition to Vin riding anywhere, Tanner tipped his hat and disappeared out of the batwing doors.

Chris watched his friend go. The churning in his gut intensified. Larabee grunted. He was definitely coming down with something, he decided. Without comment, the gunfighter rose to his feet and headed across to the bar. He returned with a bottle of whiskey.

“You really need that?” Buck asked quietly.

Chris ignored the other man and filled his glass.

“It’s a bit early isn’t it?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your damn business, Buck.”

Buck Wilmington pushed his chair back. “You’re my best friend, that makes it my business.” Before coming to Four Corners, Chris had drowned his pain and aggression in bottle after bottle of whiskey. However, since he had signed on to protect Four Corners, Chris had pretty much abstained. He’d shared a social drink with his friends, but he had never looked like wanting to drown in the foul smelling liquid... until now.

Buck could feel his own anger rising. Chris was doing it again, just as he had suspected he would. Larabee was unconsciously returning to the place where others couldn‘t reach him.

Knowing the consequences of allowing Chris to seek respite in a bottle, Buck searched for a way to halt Larabee‘s descent into hell. The scoundrel inclined his head after Vin. “You just gonna let him ride out there knowing he may be hurt?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don’t let Vin do anything?“ Chris was glaring at Buck.

Wilmington recognized the danger signs but he wasn’t going to be deterred. “Just thought he might have listened to you. I don’t reckon he should be ridin’. Nathan said...”

“I know what Nathan said. Vin can look after himself. Besides, J.D. is going with him.”

Buck started shaking his head. Chris tipped the glass to his lips, his green eyes focused on Buck. “You got something to say, Buck? Say it.”

“No, Chris. I don’t reckon I do. I’m going to check on Vin. He shouldn’t be riding, yet. I thought he still looked pale.” Buck stood and pulled on his hat. “Enjoy your drink.” With that, he left still shaking his head with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

Chris continued to stare at the centre of the table, anger replacing his confusion. Who the hell was Buck to judge him?! What the hell would Buck know about what he was feeling? Buck hadn’t lost his wife and son! Chris released a tired sigh. Buck had lost a great deal that day too. Wilmington had adored both Sarah and Adam. Their death had hurt him too. Chris glanced at the whiskey bottle and pushed it away.

“Hey, Buck...” Nathan greeted as Buck brushed by him in a hell of a hurry. The healer smiled, dismissed the action assuming Buck had a hot date and entered the saloon. Spotting Larabee seated in the back corner, the dark skinned regulator crossed the room to join his companion.

“Ezra’s fine,” Nathan announced, taking a seat and scanning the room. “Where’s Vin?”

“Gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“He’s riding out to the Wells ranch.”

“Damn him. I knew I should have made him stay in the clinic.” Nathan paused before saying any more. He examined Chris’ face with critical eyes. “You feeling okay, Chris?”

Larabee grunted.

“You look a little pale around the eyes.” Nathan sighed. “Just a bit of shock I suspect. I reckon we’re all suffering from it. When Vin disappeared under that stage...”

Abruptly, Larabee stood, turned and left the room. Nathan’s face clouded with bewilderment. What the hell was up with Chris?

Go to part 3 of 10

Return to "Six Down... One to Go!" index