Buck stepped through the batwing doors and paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light inside the silent saloon. The room was completely empty, even the barkeep having retreated as Larabee's mood had darkened.

Wilmington turned immediately to his right, knowing that Chris would be seated in the corner at ‘his’ table. The gunfighter was leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his chin resting against his chest. In front of him were three empty bottles and one half empty one. Larabee’s hair was plastered to his ruddy face and his clothes reeked from days of sitting in the same place, leaving only to relieve himself before returning to wallow in his own whiskey sodden hell.

Buck’s nostrils wrinkled, rejecting the overpowering smell of alcohol and sweat. He was flooded with a dreadful sense of deja vu. How many times had he walked into saloons to find his friend in this condition and in this dangerous mood?

Larabee didn’t move as Wilmington crossed the floor, the latter’s boots echoing on the wooden floor and blasting out his annoyance.

“What happened?” Buck demanded in a low voice.

“Shut up.” The words were lethal - little more than air forced out through Larabee’s tightly clenched jaw.

Wilmington felt his own anger rise, but he knew better than to invite an open confrontation with Chris at this point. Buck would wait. The tired and dusty man turned, strode to the other side of the room, pulled out a chair and sat down.

Larabee raised his stubbled chin and glared at his friend and then lowered his face without comment.

Buck shook his head. The pain he had just seen in his friend’s eyes in the fleeting moment their gazes had connected left Buck feeling all the more frustrated. This angry being, ready to lash out at those who cared about him, was not the man Chris wanted to be... not the man he truly was. This was a man fate had created when it had chosen to punish Chris Larabee. The death of Chris’ wife and child had robbed the rancher of so much.

Buck drew in a deep breath and lowered his own eyes. It had robbed Buck of a great deal as well and now it looked as if Vin, too, had become a victim of the tragedy. The flames of the house fire had stolen Chris’ entire world and on that day, Buck had lost his surrogate family. Following the incident, Chris had become something he wasn't. Someone who no longer knew positive emotion. He had locked the world out so completely that even Buck, who was as close to Chris as anyone could be, hadn’t been able to enter the impenetrable fortress surrounding Larabee’s aching soul. That was where Chris appeared to have returned.

Buck cursed softly to himself. It had been Vin who had somehow found Chris and led him back to the world of the living. What could possibly have come between them? Was it just Chris shutting Vin out? Or was there more? As Buck thought about it, he decided there had to be more to it, for Wilmington knew that basically Vin needed Chris as much as Chris needed Vin. Tanner wouldn’t have walked away from their friendship without good reason.

Almost half an hour passed. No one came to the door or tried to enter the saloon. The two lone occupants sat in silence, both grieving in their own particular way. Finally, Chris turned his scruffy head toward the sentry sitting on the other side of the room.

“He’s gone.” The words echoed in the room. Vin was gone. It was a crippling statement that both men felt to their core.

“I know,” Buck acknowledged, keeping his voice level.

“He won’t be coming back.”

“Why?” Buck waited and when Chris didn’t answer, the moustached man decided it was time to press a little. “Did you have an argument?” Still nothing. “Come on, Chris.”

Silence was the only response.

Buck rose to his feet. “Damn it, Chris. Don’t shut me out! I ain’t letting you do it this time. Let me help.”

Larabee remained motionless, his glazed eyes looking past Buck and staring intently at nothing.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to shut me out? Just like last time.” Still there was no reaction... no sign Chris could even hear what Buck was saying. “And Vin’s gone for good. Just like that.”

Chris snorted.

Buck’s patience came to an end. “Vin Tanner isn’t someone who would have just ridden out of here without good reason. What the hell did you say to him that…”

Chris slammed his fists into the table as he rose to his feet and then directed a glare of pure aggression at his oldest friend. The tension between them was palpable. Buck wanted to walk up to Larabee and smash him in the face, but despite his anger, he knew that such an action would achieve little. Right now, Chris needed his help... and his understanding.

Buck broke the rigid atmosphere by lowering his gaze. “Don’t do this, Chris,” he whispered.

Larabee remained frozen for several more seconds before heading for the door.

“Chris, go straight to your room.” The intoxicated gunfighter paused briefly, flicking his bloodshot eyes over to Buck. “No one deserves to be hurt because you’re in this condition.”

For a split second, Buck thought Chris was going to say something, but instead the inebriated man dragged his eyes away and continued out into the street on unsteady feet. Buck followed, staying a few feet back.

All those outdoors and those near windows paused to watch the gunfighter’s trek with a mixture of relief and curiosity. Buck tried to ignore the stares. Chris had earned a lot of respect in this town and Wilmington was determined that his friend wouldn’t make any further scenes that may erode away that esteem.

The couple of people who inadvertently found themselves in Larabee’s path scurried out of it as quickly as their legs would carry them. Buck passed Chris and opened the door of the boarding house, removing the obstruction from Larabee‘s path. When Chris entered his rented room on the second floor after negotiating the stairs with Buck‘s help, he slammed the door in Wilmington’s face.

Buck sighed, placed his hands on the rough wooden surface and lowered his head. “Don’t do this, Chris,” he implored softly. "Please, don't do this."

**********

“…and without a known destination, our chances of tracking him down are slim. Vin knows this area. If he wants to melt into the landscape he is more than capable of doing it,” Ezra reasoned. He and three of his fellow peacekeepers were collected inside the church. All wore similar expressions of stunned disbelief and concern. “What we need to do is…” Ezra’s voice faded as Buck entered the small building.

“Brother?” Josiah asked, noting the slumped shoulders and deep lines of worry railroading his friend’s brow. Buck’s characteristic energy and optimism had been drained away by the heat and the heartache of the situation.

The tired man took a seat on one of the pews next to J.D. “He’s locked himself in his room to sleep it off.”

“Did he say anything?” Nathan inquired.

Buck reached up and began massaging his throbbing temples. “Only that Vin was gone and he isn’t coming back.”

“Did he say why?”

Wilmington shook his head and shut his eyes briefly. “What did you find out?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.”

“It would appear that those in the saloon when the mêlée broke out had all consumed a great deal of alcohol and were thoroughly inebriated. All Yosemite could tell us was that by the time he became aware of a problem, Chris had hurled Vin across a table.”

“Damn. Vin hurt?”

“Not if his reaction is anything to go by,” J.D. murmured. “Apparently, he got up and tackled Chris and it took five men to separate them.”

The group were completely at a loss. It simply didn’t make any sense no matter which way they looked at it because the two men who had been at each other’s throats were Vin and Chris. Had one insulted the other? Shared a dark secret that the other found hideous? Had they disagreed over something one held dear? All could accept that Tanner and Larabee may have thrown a few punches over such things, but not try to kill each other as Yosemite had implied.

“Our problem now is locating Vin. I admit that while I knew he planned to leave at some time and I understand that staying in the one place increased the risk of capture, he had never imparted to me where he would head or the route he would take to get there.”

“Huh?” J.D. asked.

“Buck?” Nathan prompted. “Vin ever tell you where he intended going once the job here finished?”

“I think I remember him saying further north.”

“As far from Tascosa as possible,” Ezra reflected. “Fewer posters with his picture on it, I suppose.”

“So, what do we do now?” J.D. asked.

“There is a chance that Vin may simply have taken a sabbatical until we returned so that Buck could tame Mr. Larabee’s mood,” Ezra proposed.

“You think so?” Josiah asked, frowning. That didn’t sound like Vin. The Vin Josiah knew would have stayed in town to sort things out for himself.

“It’s a possibility,” Nathan murmured, unconvinced.

“I still don’t get it. What would have made them fight like that?” J.D. asked, echoing the thoughts of all.

“I don’t know, kid. I honestly don’t know.”

“Chris decided to repel all boarders and Vin was caught in the crossfire. That’s what you said earlier, Buck,” Nathan whispered, hoping Buck would elaborate.

Wilmington sighed and shrugged. “I guess that was my initial reaction. Three years ago Chris shut the world out. He was scared of allowing anyone to get close after loosing his family.”

“And you think that perhaps seeing Vin gunned down may have triggered a return to such a philosophy?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t explain why Vin left. Something more must have happened.”

“Vin had just been gunned down by some bounty hunters. He might have decided that he needed to move on before others came here looking for him and if Chris had just thrown him across a table, perhaps he thought the time couldn’t be better,” Josiah suggested.

“But I can’t see him leaving until we got back. Vin took his responsibility to the town seriously,” Nathan reasoned.

“Which brings us back to Chris,” Buck murmured, once again remembering that single moment in time when he had had his view of Vin Tanner changed forever. Perhaps Vin wasn’t really as tough a bastard as everyone thought and losing the friendship and trust of someone he cared for like a brother had forced him to turn his back on everything and everyone he had allowed to get close. That, Buck could understand, but it wasn’t something he could explain to the others for he didn’t feel he had a right to share what he had seen that night when Vin had dropped his guard long enough for Buck to see beyond the exterior the young tracker showed the world.

“You don’t think he’s been kidnapped, do you?” J.D. asked, his voice high with anxiety as his imagination ran wild. “No one has said that they saw Vin leave. Maybe other bounty hunters did come and…”

“… and they risked being seen cleaning out his wagon to steal Vin‘s humble possessions as well?” Ezra scoffed.

“Oh. Okay, maybe not.”

“I suggest that we all get some rest and wait for Mr. Larabee to surface. If anyone will know where Vin may have headed it will be he,” Ezra reasoned, drawing the conversation back on track.

“But even if he tells us, what good does it do us? Vin said that when the time was right he’d move on and that’s what he’s done,” Nathan pointed out.

“Not under these conditions,” Ezra argued. “The time wasn’t right. At the risk of sounding simplistic, I think we must all agree that the time was wrong. Vin was happy here and he was safe. This must be resolved and…”

“And you’re worried about him being out there with a target on his back,” Nathan added softly.

Ezra shot Nathan a startled look, which he immediately tried to cover. “On the contrary, Mr. Jackson. I am concerned that Mr. Tanner has left owning me two dollars and I would like to collect.” With that, Ezra headed for the door with hasty steps. “The fact that Vin is riding around out there somewhere with a bounty on his head is his business, not mine.”

“You really want us to believe that, don’t you, Ezra?” Nathan called after the gambler, but Ezra disappeared without responding.

“He’s right,” J.D. muttered. “Vin was safe and happy here and now he’s out there without us to protect him.”

“Since when did Vin need our protection?” Nathan asked, trying to calm his friends. He was worried about what had happened too, but Vin and Chris were grown men who made their own decisions. Sometimes life didn't follow the path you wanted. Nathan had learned that the hard way.

“It isn’t really a question of ‘needing‘ our protection, though, is it?” Josiah whispered. The remaining men fell silent.

“It’s wrong,” J.D. stated with some force. “I don’t care what the rest of you are going to do, I’m going after him.” The youth rose to his feet and marched toward the door.

“Wait, J.D. Of all of the bullshit Ezra just said, there was one thing I did understand and it makes sense. We should wait and see if Chris can give us a place to start,” Buck ordered, joining the younger man.

“So we’re going to go after him?”

Buck slipped his arm across J.D.’s shoulders. “I’m certainly going to try.”

“Me too,” J.D. agreed, glancing back at the others. Both Nathan and Josiah’s heads bobbed as they pledged their support.

“And I think we can count on Ezra as well… I can’t believe I just said that,” Nathan chuckled, as he and Josiah walked up the aisle to join their companions.

“And if Chris doesn’t know where Vin may have gone?” J.D. inquired.

“He’ll know,” Josiah assured. “If Vin had a plan for where he was going to head after things finished here, he would have shared it with Chris.”

***********

Ezra closed the door of his room, lent back against the wall and exhaled slowly to calm the pounding of his heart. He was weary from the long ride, but that certainly didn't explain the discomfort in his chest. Standish found himself in a place he had never been before. He was not only genuinely concerned for another, he felt he had a right and responsibility to do something about it. How the hell had that happened?

The confused Southerner let out a string of curses as he scanned his ’home’ - a simple room above the Tavern. While it was far more flash than the boarding house where the others lived, it wasn’t much. A bed, a dresser and a mat on the floor. Nothing more. Yet, he was happy here. How the hell did that work? He wasn’t earning half has much has he could be if he’d continued to move around gambling, yet what he had found here had been enough. More than enough.

“Other people’s worries,” he cursed. “That’s all I’ve found.” For some reason he had allowed himself to become too involved in the people in this backward little town. His mother had warned him against becoming involved... which had been enough for him to do just the opposite.

Why did he care so much about the fact that some tracker had ridden out and may have no intention of returning? Why should that concern him in the slightest? Ezra had had many friends ride in and out of his life and he had given none a second thought once they had departed.

So why was this was different?

This was Vin. As the thought formed, Ezra chastised himself. “Vin who? Some uneducated ex-bounty hunter I’ve only known for a couple of weeks.” Ezra caught sight of his reflection in the mirror opposite his bed. For several seconds he stared at his own dirt smudged and troubled face. “I can’t even convince myself.” In the past, Ezra had had acquaintances, not true friends. Things were different now. Everything was different now. The six men he rode with trusted him and, amazingly, he trusted them.

Vin was out there with the bounty on his head where others could prey on him like an animal. Such an idea stirred up a lot of feelings in Standish, not the least of which was anger. How the hell could Chris have just let Vin ride out?

Out of the corner of his eye, Ezra spotted something placed on his pillow. The hot and flustered man turned and crossed to the bed. Picking up the folded piece of paper, he began to read. It took less than a second for all of the blood to drain from his horrified features.

Standish raced for the door, descended the stairs five at a time and bolted out into the street. His head twisted from side to side, searching for one person. He spotted Buck heading for the boarding house.

“Buck!” Wilmington stopped, his hand dropping instinctively to his holstered gun. Ezra ran to him, his every movement desperate.

Buck frowned. He had never seen Ezra worked up enough to run. “What the hell has got into...”

“How long does it take to get to Toscosa?” Ezra demanded as he stopped in front of his friend.

Wilmington’s frown deepened. His failure to provide an immediate answer prompted Ezra to scream, “How long?!!!”

“About ten days.” Buck eyed his companion both puzzled and with increasing concern. Standish was decidedly pale and his hands were actually trembling.

Ezra swallowed. “And Vin's been gone for nine.” Slowly, he sank down and sat on the edge of the boardwalk.

“Ezra, Vin wouldn’t have gone to Tascosa. He has no reason to. Eli-Joe’s dead, which means he can’t clear his name and get a pardon,” Buck explained.

Ezra rubbed one dirty hand across his eyes and then left it there, holding his now aching head.

“Ezra?“ Buck crouched beside the seated man, fearing his friend was ill. "Ez, you okay?"

Standish removed his palm and lifted his anguished eyes to Buck. Wilmington reached for his companion's shoulder to offer support.

"Whatever it is, Ezra, it'll be okay. We'll handle it together." A lump formed in Ezra's throat and the questions he had been asking himself in his room were answered. This was why he stayed. It was because he had friends who cared. "I fear that even together we may not be able to fix this," he whispered, passing Buck the note he held in is fist.

“What's this?"

"It's from Vin," Ezra replied in a horribly distorted voice.

"Ezra, Vin can’t write.”

“It is the Travis child’s handwriting. I doubt the boy knew what any of it meant.”

Unfolding the note, Buck scanned the message.

Ezra, I had to leave. Decided to head back to Tascosa to try and sort things out with the marshal there. If all goes well I’ll wire you and let you know. If not, I'll make sure he knows where to send the money. Say good bye to all the boys for me. Tell Chris that I’m sorry. Tell him…

That was where the note ended. The final few words had been crossed out and Vin had signed his own name at the bottom.

"Will he have a chance?" Ezra asked Buck, aware of his friends’ experience as a sheriff.

Wilmington re-read the note, unable to believe what it said.

"Buck, will they listen to him?"

Buck swallowed. There wasn't a chance in hell that anyone would pay attention to Vin when he claimed that he was innocent and that the person who had framed him was dead. Not a chance in hell.

"What will happen?" Ezra asked.

"They'll hang him,” Buck declared in a hushed voice.

"But... " Ezra's mouth continued to open and close but he couldn't find his voice. Buck's claim gripped his heart. "Surely..."

Buck shook his head. "I'm yet to meet a wanted man who doesn't claim he's innocent. They'll..."

“Why?” Ezra demanded. “Why would he go there?" Vin had to have realized what was waiting for him. "He must have known…” Ezra swallowed. “He must have known we were prepared to protect him.”

Buck drew in a shaky breath and sat down beside Ezra. “Yeah, I reckon he did, but...” Buck shut his eyes and that image of Vin’s expressive face sitting in the saloon on that one night he had let his guard down again filled his strangled mind. If Chris had withdrawn his friendship, then Vin may simply have decided that he was sick of fighting fate and the lousy hand life had dealt him. Three years on the run was a long time and with no hope of ever being free...

“There has to be a way to stop him.”

“How?” Buck demanded. “He’s got a nine day head start on us. Hell, he could be there by tomorrow.”

“We could wire Tascosa and tell the Marshal there that Vin is an important witness and...”

“And all we’ll be doing is warning them to be on the look out for him,” Buck snapped in irritation. He knew that the closer to Tascosa Vin got, the more likely someone would recognise him. Others would shoot first and ask questions later. The dreadful reality was beginning to become clear. Vin wouldn't even get a chance to state his case… something Tanner must have known. All of which meant that whatever had happened between Vin and Chris had been final enough for Vin to decide that he wasn’t prepared to continue his fight alone.

“Do you know anyone down that way who we could wire? We could have them intercept Vin,” Ezra suggested, trying to think of anything to help.

“You think Vin will let anyone get close to him?”

Ezra stared at Buck. “There has to be something we can do!”

Wilmington lowered his gaze to his dusty boots. He felt so incredibly helpless. There was nothing they could do. No way to get to Vin in time. “J.D. doesn’t need to know about this.”

Ezra heard defeat resound in each syllable. “We can’t just…”

“What the hell do you want us to do, Ezra? Grow wings and fly there!” Buck regretted the outburst immediately, reached his hand out and laid it on Ezra’s forearm in silent apology.

Ezra released a long deep breath as reality caught up with him also. “Alright. We shall keep it from J.D. I… “ Still he continued to search for some way to save his friend’s life. There simply had to be a way.

Buck squeezed his companion’s arm and rose to his feet. “It’s out of our hands, Ezra. Vin… Vin made his decision for whatever reason. Maybe he‘ll find some peace.” Buck pulled Ezra to his feet and their pained eyes met.

“Peace?“ Ezra repeated. “How can he possibly find peace by being strung up like some sort of animal and…“ Ezra stopped and looked away. The words had caused an image to form in his tormented mind. It was an image he couldn’t bare. Pushing it aside, he tried to find that emotional control he prided himself on. “He should arrive by tomorrow?”

“Journey takes anything from ten to twelve days I’d guess, so…”

“So we may hear word during that time.”

Buck shrugged. “No marshal is gonna send us any money, but if Vin asked for us to be informed, those wishes may be respected.”

“I shall go and speak to Mike and insist that all messages for the seven of us are given only to you or I. What about Chris?”

“He doesn’t need to know either,” Buck stated, firmly.

Ezra felt his grip on his control falter. “He is responsible for all of this.”

“We don’t know that,” Buck thundered. “We don’t know what happened.”

Gradually the anger in both men subsided, leaving two friends who were at a loss. “He deserves to know,” Ezra pointed out. “Otherwise he will continue to question and wonder and there is nothing worse than that.”

“In this case, that is the lesser of two evils.” If Chris found out that he was responsible for Vin riding to his death, he simply wouldn’t cope.

Ezra sighed and finally nodded. “I…” And still he couldn’t find the words he needed.

“We should keep this between us, Ezra. It’ll be better that way.”

Standish nodded.

“We may have a problem though. J.D. is determined to ride out after Vin.”

“I’m not sure that is such a bad thing. Let him and the others do that. They will just ride to the closer towns looking for signs that Vin has passed through them. When they don’t find anything, they will return. It will get them out of town over the next three days when we are… if news should arrive.”

The deception didn’t sit well with Buck, but again, perhaps it was the lesser of two evils. His and Ezra’s hands came together and a wordless but sacred pledge was exchanged. They would share this burden between them and spare those they cared about the knowledge of this unthinkable tragedy.

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