Vin Tanner peered through the smoke, hoping to locate his compatriots in all this mess. He didn't want to accidentally shoot one of them, although it was now nearly impossible to tell where they had each dispersed to. Surely JD Dunne had gone down in that last volley of gunfire, standing up from behind the wagon just as one of Pearl's gunmen had swung around the end and aimed at him.

He had no idea where Chris Larabee was, which was more important to him right now than anything else. Vin pulled his kerchief over his nose and dropped low to the ground, crawling towards the watering trough. He inched slowly forward, hoping he could see something as the smoke cleared away from the ground, rising in the air. The stench of burned flesh still hung all around them, mixed with gunpowder and soot and dust and sweat. At the edge of the barn he saw the back of a gunman as he edged around the corner. Vin rose and shot as the man backed towards him, and the man went down, disappearing in the haze of smoke.

"Chris!" Vin shouted.

"Behind you!" Chris returned, and Vin dived over towards the black shape of Chris's hat there behind the trough, only to land in a heap on top of Nathan Jackson.

"They're getting away," Chris snarled as he reloaded his gun.

"I think JD's been hit," Vin said, looking at Chris, a quick check to see if he was hurt in any way.

Nathan began crawling forward. "Where is he?"

"Behind the wagon was where I saw him. One of Pearl's guns shot at him, but that was all I could see in the smoke. Nathan, you can't get through out there. He's gotta take care of himself."

Nathan merely scowled at Vin and crawled forward, gun out in front of him. After a few more volleys the shooting stopped, although Vin was not sure whether it meant a lull as everyone reloaded or if they really had run away.

Then all Vin could hear was the diminishing sounds of hoofbeats, and he knew they were gone. He and Chris stood up slowly, waving away the smoke as they coughed harshly. The house would have to finish burning. There was no point in trying to put out the fire. At least without any wind today the fire should stay there, not spread to the barn.

Silently he and Chris walked towards their companions. They saw Nathan hovering over JD, whose chest was covered in blood. "He's been hit in the right chest, near the heart. It's bad."

Vin looked at Chris, not certain how this would sit with him. Chris's lips were set tightly in a line. From behind them he heard Buck Wilmington say, "Goddamn. Goddamn them all." Buck ripped his kerchief off, wadded it up and pressed it against the pulsing blood flowing blackly from JD's chest.

"We gotta get him back to town," Vin said, dashing to the buckboard. The horses were frantic from the smoke and fire and gunshots and he could not get them settled easily at first, not enough to pull the buckboard in any direction he wanted to go. The rest of their horses were scattered in all directions, but at least they were all still alive. As he soothed the horses, he turned and saw Chris walk resolutely to the tree at the far end of the property.

When they'd first arrived at Bishop's land, they'd seen from a distance the bodies of Bishop and Gilbert, the other man who'd staked a claim to this property, hanging from a cottonwood tree. They had been burned almost beyond recognition, the fire placed deliberately under them. Their legs had been seared away nearly up to the thighs, the rest of their bodies blackened messes. Chris had kept moving, stonefaced, pulling his knife out to cut them down even as the rest of them had turned their faces away in disgust and horror. "Aw, hell," was all he'd said, and Vin had begun to dismount, pulling out his knife, when they heard the men come out of hiding behind them, back at the house.

They had been so focused on this hellish scene that they had let their guard down until those first gunshots. When they turned, they saw the home afire and at least a dozen men -- probably more -- with guns. They had rushed towards the house, scattershot, and then it had dissolved, and Vin didn't remember the rest of the details, only the smells and the dust that coated his throat, because he was too busy shooting.

They picked up JD and put him in the buckboard, Nathan and Buck at his side. Chris was at the tree now and Vin did not want to leave him there alone to that awful responsibility. But he knew that Chris had to face this himself, and he would not accept anyone's assistance if it came out of pity. So Vin snapped the reins and the four of them went off, with Ezra Standish and Josiah Sanchez left to help Chris in the duty of taking care of the bodies. His thoughts were not with the other two, though, they were only with Chris Larabee and those ghosts that stood behind him.

Chris would always say that they were the law around these parts. Some law, Vin thought. There was no way to win this, no resolution acceptable, not anymore. And if JD died, it would become vengeance for them, and there was no justice in that. Not civilized justice. Only the most base laws of mankind, an eye for an eye. Too many people had died already to believe there was a law anymore; it was nothing but blood and misery.

There were few times he'd regretted staying here and working with Chris. Lately he'd been filled with regrets, because there was no clear line for him to stand behind, and he needed a line. When it had all started, he'd thought there was a clear right and wrong. He didn't believe Chris was any happier with the situation, but they'd had their share of disagreements over who was at fault. Chris felt for Pearl over the loss of his son, which had escalated this to a range war, even though he didn't believe Pearl and his men were without fault. But it was usually Vin's tendency to sympathize with the homesteaders, whose actions he believed in this case were based solely on fear. Legitimate fear. Now they would all have to stand behind the same line if they were to get through this alive.

Vin drove to town as fast as he could, wondering what Chris would be like when he returned, and how many demons were left to come between them.

The smell of burning flesh still hung in the air, searing Chris Larabee's nose and throat with its awful pungency. The rope that Gilbert had hung from had since burned away and his body now lay on the ground near his wife's. Bishop still swung from the tree, and Chris took his knife out as he approached. Josiah and Ezra walked silently behind him, except for the occasional coughs from Ezra.

He felt confident that JD would be all right. He had to be all right. Nathan would take care of him, and Buck and Vin, because they were good at that. Perhaps he should have left Vin to deal with this and been the one to drive JD back to town, but in his heart, he knew this was what he had been moving towards for the past three years -- that his destiny was to get closer and closer to the pain and suffering of his family before he finally looked that devil in the eye.

Even with the answers he'd gained so recently about why his family had been killed, his aching didn't ease. He carried the guilt and fear for them, the agony of their suffering, like a bullet left inside his body. Answers didn't make the pain go away.

So many mistakes had been made in the past few weeks, and this was the result. His fault, Chris thought. It was all his own fault. Vin had been right about how far this would go, and Chris hadn't listened because he saw everything through the veil of his past, hazy and indistinct. Next time he would listen to Vin and trust his judgment.

Chris cut Bishop down and lay his body gently on the ground. They went back to the barn to see if there was anything there to wrap the bodies in to take to the undertakers. The men who'd come here to murder these people would get no such dignity, though, not from Chris. Because Vin had taken the buckboard and Gilbert's wagon was smashed to a heap, they would have to come back later for them. Part of Chris wanted to simply tie them behind the horses and drag them to town, but he knew Josiah would allow no such thing. They were silent in their work, each man knowing what had to be done. Josiah said a quiet prayer as they wrapped the bodies.

He knew what each of the men must have thought when they'd first come upon the hanging and the fire. He hadn't looked back to see them watching him, but he could feel their pitying eyes on the back of his head. The only one who wouldn't pity him would be Vin; even Buck seemed too close to pity at times, possibly because he felt some pangs of guilt himself.

When they got back to town, there were two things Chris needed most: to drink a lot of whiskey, and to see Vin. At first he hadn't been aware of this nearly imperceptible change occurring and still didn't know exactly which moment he had turned to preferring life with Vin at his side, but it had happened and he acknowledged it now without examining it. Things didn't seem real somehow unless Vin was there, or unless he talked it over with him. Chris supposed this was truly what friendship was about. He'd had many friends in his life, but none he felt so acutely -- not even Buck, whom he'd known for what felt like forever. He had been a normal man before his wife and child died; he'd felt things, he cared for life and the world around him, had smiled and laughed and felt joy or sorrow. The past few years had been closed and dark, but slowly light was entering through a crack in the door, letting life back into his heart.

Something had clicked like a pin in a lock, and that door had opened on Vin Tanner, as if that man had become his other half. He needed someone else to help him make sense of the horror they'd seen today, needed someone else to put things right, and that could only be Vin.

At the saloon that evening, after the business with the undertaker was done, Chris slipped into the seat next to Vin and grabbed the whiskey bottle to take a long slug of what little was left. Buck raised his eyebrow at Vin, who got up and went over to the bar for another bottle.

"What's the situation?" Chris asked.

Buck wiped a hand over his brow. "About as bad as it can get. Nathan's not sure whether JD is going to get through this one."

Vin plonked the whiskey bottle, a few beers, and a bowl of stew for Chris on the table and sat down. Vin looked carefully at Chris's face, searching, but he wasn't sure for what. Wondering how much those burned bodies would affect him, of course, but something else. Maybe just signs of life, assuring himself that Chris hadn't closed off completely.

"We only got half the men Pearl hired. At least." Chris pushed his hat back off his head and wiped his forehead.

"I think that ain't the last we seen of them, either," Vin said.

"No, no it's not. But I'm not letting them get away next time. They're going to take the responsibility for JD and for Bishop and Gilbert."

"If we catch 'em," Buck said. "And if we can prove they did it. Would you recognize any of them again? I know I wouldn't." He glared at Chris, as if somehow Chris's de facto leadership role had created this situation. But Chris wasn't returning Buck's look, he was staring straight at Vin, who shrugged at Chris in response.

Josiah and Ezra joined them, even Ezra contemplative and quiet for once.

Looking back at Buck, Chris said in even tones, "We're the law around here. We have to act like the law, no matter what side we think is right or wrong."

"Ain't no right or wrong here anymore, Chris," Vin said, glaring at him. "There's just wrong now."

Vin had argued with Chris at first about the whole issue, and the farther it went, the more difficult things had been between them. J.I. Pearl was one of the largest cattle barons in the area, and when more and more of his cattle started going missing on a regular basis, he wasn't the type to come to the seven for help -- instead he hired men to threaten the homesteaders. While they had tried to keep the peace and to make Pearl see reason, it wasn't until Pearl's hired men had gone to Bishop and Gilbert's property to scare them that the situation had erupted into full-scale war. Bishop had been the most vocal of the homesteaders in their stand against Pearl's bullying.

The cowboys had not known that Bishop was a veteran of the Confederate army, fearless in the face of their threats and an expert shot who was quite able to drive them off the property. So Pearl turned all his accusations of rustling against Bishop, claiming he was encouraging other homesteaders to thievery. While Chris and Vin knew nothing of Bishop's or Gilbert's own activities, they did know that Pearl's cattle -- and worse, some horses -- had been disappearing with regularity, and it was likely that at least some of the homesteaders were involved. Before the seven could step in and make headway in the situation, Pearl's son Joshua and another man had ridden onto Bishop's property, only to be killed by Bishop.

At that point, both Vin and Chris had recognized that the time for resolution had escaped them. Bishop insisted he was defending himself, but there was no proof that Joshua Pearl or the man who rode with him had come to do anything but what J.I. Pearl had said they were doing -- trying to negotiate with Bishop to buy them off their land, one of the largest parcels in the area and prime grazing land. It wasn't until they were getting ready to bring Bishop in for charges that they found out the man who rode with Joshua Pearl was a vicious killer who'd recently completed a sentence in prison.

Vin knew that Chris was somewhat sympathetic to Pearl -- after all, he knew what it was like to lose a son. But Vin could not stand that it clouded the situation. He didn't believe for one moment that the younger Pearl had been there with the hired gun to do anything but cause trouble, and the two had been surprised by Bishop. Both Gilbert and Bishop had been, instead of out on their range where they might normally have been, back at the barn tending a horse that had gone down the day before. Gilbert's wife Polly had seen the men approaching, and it was her warning that allowed Bishop time to get his rifle and shoot both of the riders.

There was no love lost for either the homesteaders or the cattlemen in Vin's heart. He'd seen too often what each of them did to the Indians, to each other, to the country he loved so much. There wasn't enough water in this area to farm properly, but that didn't stop the settlers from coming. And the cattlemen were ruthless in their efforts to control the countryside, often to lengths Vin could not accept.

It didn't matter what Vin wanted, or what Chris needed to believe. They had taken this job and said they would protect the peace. When they'd found out that Pearl had hired more guns to "arrest" Bishop and take him to Phoenix for a murder trial, bypassing them entirely and affording Bishop no protection, they had ridden out to check on Bishop and the Gilberts. But Pearl's men had beaten them to it.

Vin could not think of a more hideous end to life than to be hanged and burned. Even from a few feet away, he could see that the men had not used a slip noose, but instead had tied a knot that would prolong their torment even as they burned, as they kicked and flailed to escape the heat. Polly Gilbert had been shot and they'd found her body nearby, one arm singed black from the fire that had burned her husband and Bishop. The cowboys had spread the fire to the main house, and would likely have burned everything except for the arrival of the seven.

The lingering silence as they contemplated the events of recent weeks left them sitting there in their cups, drinking morosely. All they could do was think over the what-ifs, wonder what direction they could have taken to change this course of events, but these were not actions Vin typically engaged in. He hated looking back; it was a waste of time and emotion.

After a while Chris spoke. "We got to arrest Pearl and his men. Tomorrow."

Buck laughed bitterly. "Well, I'll tell you what. When you figure out a brilliant plan for just how we're going to do that without getting us all killed, you let me know. I'm going over to Nathan's to see about JD."

Shaking his head, Josiah smiled softly. "What we saw today is probably just a fraction of the men Pearl's hired. I don't know for certain if there's enough bullets and gunpowder in this town to help us."

Chris drained his beer and looked evenly at Josiah. "Well, then, we'll just have to order in more." He shook his head. "I don't think Pearl's stupid enough to fight us this way. He'll fight later, with paper and lawyers."

They stayed for a while longer, not quite willing to disperse, but not willing to talk about it anymore. Ezra silently practiced with cards, Josiah sat watching Inez at the bar, and Vin just watched Chris, who seemed to be staring at nothing except the beer in his glass. After a long time of this malaise Ezra and Josiah drifted away, leaving Chris and Vin alone. Chris turned to him in that instant, and said, "You always say I don't explain much."

Unclear what Chris's intended meaning was, Vin stared back at him.

"You going to tell me about that man back there at Bishop's farm? The one who stared at you like you were his long-lost brother? Fine time to be making old acquaintances, in the middle of a shootout."

He was surprised that Chris had seen that. And surprised that Chris thought it worth mentioning; it wasn't the first time someone had recognized Vin. "Just a fella I knew once."

"A fella who knows you have a price on your head?"

"Somethin' like that. I wasn't taken aback exactly to see him; he's been hired out all over the territories by greedy men before, prob'ly will be again."

"He a bounty hunter?"

"I reckon he knows enough about me that he sees money."

"What's his name?"

"McMahon."

"He knows you're here, and you're worth something. Don't you think that complicates something that's already pretty complicated?"

"I think the business at hand's more important."

Chris played with a silver coin, rolling it back and forth through his fingers, drawing out the silence. He looked up at Vin and said, "The business at hand is that we're down one man, we're outnumbered, and if we don't do something, a man will get away with murder and what little order we've brought here will be gone faster'n we can blink. In which case, either we'll all end up dead, or we'll be asked to get out and we go our separate ways."

Vin twitched his head to the side. He wasn't sure what Chris was saying to him, but it hit him hard in the chest, what he *wanted* Chris to be saying. Despite disagreements, despite the dark anger in Chris, he had never found such a friend in his isolated life, never found someone he could be so open with -- the kind of friend you didn't have to explain things to. Only now Chris was asking him to explain, as if this all meant more to him than it should.

"And if you get picked up and taken to Tascosa, we're down another man, then two, because I'll have to come back after you."

"Aw, Chris, you're flattering me."

He was met with a bitter grin. Chris's eyes were still angry. "Listen, we brought the bodies in, including the men we shot. Take a look at them and see if McMahon was one of them. If he wasn't, we got another job to do."

"I keep telling you. Sooner or later I got to clear my name. This ain't going away, and it has to be done if I'm going to stay here with y'all." Except that Vin could no more figure out how to do that than he could make the sun rise in the west.

Chris looked up at him from under his brows, but Vin couldn't make heads or tails of what he was thinking behind that look.

Vin did not recognize any of the dead men. He avoided looking at the bodies of Bishop and the Gilberts, as he noticed Chris was doing. When they left the undertaker's, Chris went back into the saloon and Vin went up to his room. On a night like tonight, he wished he were on the trail or moving from place to place. Sleeping out beneath the stars sometimes did him a world of good after bad times, but he was still shaky from the day and had drunk too much whiskey and beer, and the room was a lot closer. He could have gone to check in on JD -- it was impossible to know if this would be his last chance to see the kid or not -- but Vin felt tired and miserable and longed for the comfort of a bed.

As he undressed and threw some water on his face from the basin, he thought about what Chris had said. There had been a few times when Vin had wondered what Chris thought of their friendship, if Chris realized how unusual it was for Vin to open up to someone and take him into his confidence. He often felt like there was more than mere friendship between them, something unspoken he could not identify, something mystical or spiritual. But then he would shake himself out of that nonsense; he wasn't much for such ideas no matter what had rubbed off on him over the years being around Indians, even the warrior tribes he'd lived with.

Feelings weren't something he gave much time to. He'd come to an agreeable place with his loneliness years ago, and thinking about whether things could be different, or how he might feel if he'd found someone to love or to share friendship with was more an exercise in pain than anything. Once he thought he'd found love with a Comanche girl, but that had been a poor choice on his part made more complicated by race; and the second time, with Charlotte, had been a selfish mistake from the get-go, although he'd been too blinded by passion to see that until later. He took away from each experience the notion that it was too difficult, too painful, to love someone. He'd known isolation all his life; that was the place he was most comfortable. Chris had changed that, with that confident tilt of his head and his straightforward nature, and Vin was never really certain if that change had been a good or a bad thing.

Perhaps it was the process of aging, of growing older and more mature, that he'd been willing to stay among people and call them friends. Vin lay down on the bed and drew the blanket up around him. He turned off the lamp and was still, listening to the sound of the watch fire on the street crackling quietly beneath his open window and the sounds of the saloon muffled through the boards. In a while he would hear Buck's or Ezra's footsteps, accompanied by the lighter steps and giggles of whichever girls they had taken a fancy to that night, and then later, the reassuring sound of Chris's spurs and bootheels as he went to his room across the hall. For Chris, staying back at his place had been ruled out temporarily by the business with Pearl and Bishop, and Vin was only too content to have him so near.

He hoped this comfort would last, that it would keep away the nightmares that troubled him lately. It wasn't something he wanted to burden Chris with -- there were times when Vin had heard Chris shout himself awake, so he knew Chris had his own bad dreams to contend with. His own was a recurring dream that visited too often, of Eli Joe, of the slip noose around his neck, and of hanging. This time, in his dream, Chris was not there to save him. Often he wondered if the dream, if Chris's absence within it, meant more, that perhaps his mind was telling him that he should not have become so dependent upon Chris and so sure of his friendship. But that was not a notion Vin was willing to consider; he wanted too much from this friendship. He hoped for too much in his life to change. He had ached with loneliness at times since coming here, ached to have a life like the people he saw all around him in Four Corners, but he did not want to give up what little there was for him in the present in the vague hopes of something different in his future. If clearing his name -- however that could happen, if it could happen -- meant leaving here and being alone again, Vin wasn't certain the price was worth it.

Once, while sitting with Josiah on a night, the two of them looking at the star-filled sky, he listened to Josiah's tales of explorers in other lands. He talked of places they had found unlike anything else on earth: of deserts where nomads shrouded in black wandered a wide expanse of sand, and of thick, green jungles alive with man-eating fish and plants. He liked best the stories about the penitents and pilgrims, especially the stories of the ancient Crusades, of people who sought their soul's fulfillment and adventured far away for it even in the face of great dangers. He thought of himself that way, he'd realized that night: a wayfarer, a pilgrim hoping to someday find a place to belong to, someone to belong to. And if he knew in his heart of hearts that it would never really happen, he still liked to imagine himself that way, the kind of person Josiah would tell stories about.

Eventually he heard Chris come up the stairs and Vin drifted asleep, the sounds of movement in the room nearby lulling him to rest.

His head felt like a rail being split, the crack of the axe still resounding through his skull. Each time he drank this much, Chris swore he wouldn't do it again, but then something came along and he felt compelled to tamp down his anger or pain with as much beer and whiskey as he could swallow.

Vin's casual dismissal of the dead men they'd looked at in the undertaker's had done more for his feelings of despair than the sight of the hanging tree at Bishop's. It was a certain bet that McMahon would be back. At the very least Vin would have another fight on his hands like the one with Eli Joe; at the worst he would be taken back to Tascosa and hanged for murder, or simply taken back dead. Neither option sat well with Chris.

At the bottom of the stairs he was greeted by Vin and Buck, both of whom looked grim. They had just come from Nathan's room with the news that JD was even worse. He was unconscious, feverish, and had lost entirely too much blood. Nathan would be unavailable to them if they went out to Pearl's place.

So now they were five.

"We might as well stick our guns in our mouths, Chris," Buck grumbled, and Vin shot him a look.

"First thing is wiring the judge. Pearl won't take us on if we come backed on his warrant. He knows he can get out fast if he plays it by the book."

Buck shook his head. "You're assuming a man who could do what you saw yesterday can be reasoned with."

As they got closer to the wire office, he saw Josiah and Ezra waiting. Apparently he'd overslept again and everyone seemed to be impatiently waiting on him. Why hadn't Vin come to wake him? Sometimes he needed that extra kick in the seat that Vin usually was happy to give him.

"There are times when imbibing too much is the sensible response to tragedy. Then there are times when it impairs your ability to do your job," Ezra said smugly, looking directly into Chris's bloodshot eyes.

"No one here's got the right to cast judgment on the other," Vin snapped.

Chris waved a hand in their direction. "Aw, let it go. Ezra's right. I shoulda quit while I was behind last night."

"I imagine a man has the right to try to forget what we saw yesterday," Josiah said in his measured tones. While Josiah seemed half asleep himself, Chris realized his eyes were missing nothing.

Vin kicked the toe of his boot into the railing post and cast his eyes down. It wasn't obvious, but Josiah was carefully looking from Chris to Vin and back. Under normal circumstances, Chris would be curious enough to ask why he was acting nosier than usual lately, but they had other matters to handle.

Straightening, Ezra said, "We've already received the wire from the judge for a warrant on Pearl and his men while we awaited your appearance." He held the paper towards Chris.

"Thanks for taking care of it." Chris didn't want to show how much Ezra irritated him when he was like this.

Squinting up at Chris, Vin asked, "You really think Pearl's going to come in quietly? I know I wouldn't if I had that much manpower behind me."

"I think after he found out what went down at Bishop's and what his men did, he knows he has to stop the shooting and start maneuvering behind the scenes," Josiah said. "He's a creature of politics as much as he's a cattleman."

Vin nodded, frowning, and looked off in the middle distance. "Well then, I guess we best saddle up and get the job done."

They each got their mounts and rode out. Next to Chris, Josiah was softly humming, and Vin rode ahead of him with Ezra on his left. Buck rode behind them, quiet for once, clearly unhappy about the situation and his mind back with JD.

It was eerily quiet as they came to the far boundaries of Pearl's land. No sign of cattle, no activity, no cowboys. The five dispersed widely as they rode farther in. Chris looked in Vin's direction, watching his calm face and relaxed motion. He himself felt taut as a bow, alert to every sound and movement, but all he heard was the noise of their own horses.

When they finally reached the main house there was still no sign of life. Chris had already drawn his pistol, he could see from far away that Vin had the sawed-off rifle resting above his hip.

As they approached, the front door opened and Mr. Pearl himself stepped out the door, dusting his hat off and smiling. "Gentlemen!" he called. He was a large man with a big stomach, dark hair thinning at the crown, and a striped shirt and black waistcoat stretched tightly across his belly. "I was expecting you."

Chris slid off his horse, always prepared to fulfill the leader role he seemed to have been elected to, pistol still in hand, and dropped a rein to the ground. The other four stayed in their saddles behind him, scanning the property. "Mr. Pearl, I have to ask you to come with us. We have a warrant from Judge Travis. The murders of Arlen Bishop, Polly Gilbert, and Edward Gilbert were committed yesterday by men working for you."

"I heard about the tragic events. While I have no affection for Mr. Bishop after what he did to my son, murdering for revenge isn't my style." He watched Chris carefully as he said this, but Chris remained expressionless. "I don't believe in that part of the Bible that says an eye for an eye." He walked off the front porch towards Chris, holding his hands out to show he had no gun.

"We'll have to take you to the jail." Chris left it in the air whether it would be peaceably or not.

As Chris searched him for weapons, Pearl laughed. "I do feel I'm outnumbered here by your posse," he said, and the hair on the back of Chris's neck stood up. He'd been planning it all along, knew they would not come for him for at least a day, and had cleared away everyone and everything connected to the events of the past few weeks. It appeared that he had been here alone all this time. They looked like fools; but worse, by playing into his game, they'd accommodated the escape of the killers. Whatever sympathy he'd had for the elder Pearl over Joshua's death vanished. Vin had been right all along, both sides may have been guilty here, but some were clearly more guilty than others.

"I will of course be wiring my lawyer when we reach town," Pearl said, and Chris nodded. He wondered what the rest of them were making of this, but had no intention of turning his gaze -- or his gun -- away from Pearl.

Chris went inside with him as they got Pearl's coat and a few other things, then to the stable for a horse. He watched Pearl carefully and cast an eye to the area around them when he could, wary of an ambush. Along the ride back to town Josiah took up a position next to Chris at the front of the group.

"That certainly was smooth enough," Josiah commented dryly to Chris, after a time.

"I expected him to come along, but not quite that happily. He'd planned it all out ahead of time. I asked him in the stables where his cattle and men were and he said it was time to drive them to Texas. It's way too early for that, but he's got us by the short hairs and he knows it. His lawyer's probably waiting on the steps of the jail right now."

"If I were a gambling man, I would put my money on three days in jail, with a murder trial in another jurisdiction."

Chris grinned at him. "Two days, and Judge Travis comes to town."

"Perhaps when we return, we can have Ezra set up a pool."

Smiling, they rode for awhile in silence. Finally Chris asked him, "You keep watching me and Vin these days."

Josiah's large features were softened by his wide grin. "Just being observant."

"Huh. What about?"

"Just... changes. My habit of studying people. I like to think that we've all changed quite a bit since coming together, but I would say you and Mr. Tanner have changed the most."

"Is that so." It rankled Chris to be so curious, and he wished Josiah would stop pussyfooting around and tell him what was on his mind.

Teasing him now with silence, Josiah said nothing, merely kept smiling in that irritatingly calm way.

"All right. You win. How?"

"Hmmm." Josiah seemed to consider this for some time before answering. "Yesterday makes a good example. I believe all of us, including Buck, who's known you the longest, were more than a little reluctant to leave you at Bishop's. While it wasn't easy for any of us to look on, it would be worst of all for you. At that point, I thought I should force you to drive the buckboard back with JD and Nathan. But Vin seemed to be the one with the most confidence in the situation. As though he knew most clearly how you would handle it."

"Is that so."

"Such friendship is rare in the world, rarer still in places like this."

Chris looked pointedly at him. "Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"Merely an observation, my friend. Make of it what you will." Josiah went back to humming, and Chris went back to riding. He didn't *want* to make anything of it, he knew that much. But what else he understood, whatever else Josiah was talking about, didn't make sense to him. He'd spent too long keeping everything away that his own feelings were foreign to him now. Like riding or shooting -- if you didn't keep up practice, you ended up rusty and off-kilter. Emotions were like that. He'd stopped believing he felt anything, but Josiah appeared to be saying different.

He dropped back to ride closer to Pearl, fixing the man with a squint and a frown. "I'll want the names of the men you've hired recently."

"Certainly. But I'm sure you'll find they're all just plain old hired hands. Merely cattle drovers, Mr. Larabee, not hired guns brought to do mischief."

From his left, Chris could hear Vin give a snort.

"Just the names, Mr. Pearl. We just want the names." It infuriated him, Pearl's smugness, his sense of entitlement. He wanted to reach over with the butt of his gun and wipe that smirk right off his face.

After a while, Vin leaned towards him and said so quietly Chris could hardly hear him, "What good exactly do you think a bunch of names are gonna be? They're probably all fake, anyways."

"It's a place to start. And if JD dies, I'm going to hunt them all down and kill them, one by one."

"You know, people say being a bounty hunter makes you a wretch, but at least it ain't all about revenge."

"Eye for an eye, like everyone says."

Vin looked away.

He rode the rest of the way to town near Vin, occasionally glancing at him, but Vin was staring straight ahead, his mouth set tightly. What was he thinking of? Chris wondered. JD, or the man they'd seen yesterday? Bishop and the Gilberts? Vin rarely talked about anything on his own without someone else either broaching a subject or asking him a direct question. Maybe he was just disappointed in Chris now. All too often, he found himself wondering what Vin thought about him and their friendship. Vin was so solitary and had accommodated his life to that so thoroughly that Chris didn't believe he had room for those kinds of thoughts.

Others might think Vin was so unencumbered by regular human needs and desires that he was almost simple, but Chris knew different. There were things eating at Vin as cold as anything Chris felt in himself, he was sure of that. And Tascosa was the least of it, Chris believed.

When they arrived in town they took Pearl to the jail, and Chris set up shifts to guard, he and Josiah first. His biggest fear was that Pearl's men were waiting to pounce and bust him out of jail. Buck complained bitterly about being assigned the night watch, which was precisely why Chris did it. He still took too much delight in poking Buck's soft spots. Without saying a word, Vin had taken Chris's and Josiah's horses to the livery. Chris watched Vin as he led them away, alone, already retreated to whatever that place was he seemed to seclude himself in, a place Chris wanted to know.

There was a stench in Nathan's room that made Vin think he would heave up his breakfast. It was all coming from JD's wounds, and Vin closed his eyes when he saw the young man, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"Blood and pus," Nathan said, matter-of-factly. "That's the smell. I gotta get these old bandages out of here. You stay with him, won't you, while I take these out and get some more?" Vin nodded and sat down by the side of the bed. JD was covered with sweat, his face white, almost as white as the pillow. His lips were dry and cracked, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead. Vin squeezed some water from a washcloth onto JD's lips. The blood had largely stopped flowing, but the wound in his chest had suppurated, and his breathing was ragged and wet sounding.

When Nathan returned, he tended to JD awhile before looking at Vin. "He's dying," he said through gritted teeth, his disgust at his limitations as a healer palpable.

"Maybe he won't." That was all Vin could say, but he thought, he's young, he can get through this.

"There's nothing I can do, not now. All's I can do is give him some laudanum to keep him sleeping. Couldn't get the bullet out, and it's a bad infection. Real bad. He lost too much blood to fight it."

"Nathan. It ain't your fault. You done everything you could."

"Nah," Nathan answered matter of factly. "I ain't a real doctor, and I don't have real supplies."

Vin shook his head angrily. "You done more for him than anyone else would have. You've done a lot for this town. Just because it's JD this time, you can't forget the people you *have* helped." He stayed awhile, just watching them, wondering how far his own guilt reached in this.

Eventually he left them, feeling useless, and wandered out to the street. He went to the saloon, where he sat with Ezra and Buck and talked about JD. Even Buck was unusually quiet. No matter how many ladies came up to him in the course of the evening he declined their company, and Ezra refused at least two poker games in the time Vin was there.

He could imagine how angry Buck was with himself. He would be carrying this harder than almost any of them except Chris, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Buck was like an older brother to JD, they sparred and battled and fought the way brothers did. Or at least, that was how Vin saw it, how he imagined brothers to be in his idealized vision of family life.

Vin found himself staring through the doors most of the evening, his mind fixed on Chris. From his left, he heard Ezra muttering to himself over his game of solitaire. Eventually he realized Ezra was talking to him. "It must have been fate."

"Hmm... what?" Vin asked, looking at him.

"I was remarking on your attentive gaze out the front. And whether your furrowed brow was indicating a preoccupation with JD or with our prisoner."

"What's that got to do with fate?"

Ezra sighed theatrically, and Buck leaned back in his chair smirking, as if to say, well, go ahead, explain yourself. "I was *saying* that my greatest sorrow over JD's mortal wound is that it seemed as if this was all fated to happen and we had no sway over the events."

Vin shrugged and twitched his mouth. "I don't know that I believe much in fate."

"Don't you?" Ezra asked, a smile on his face. "You don't think we were all drawn here for a reason, that there was some hand of destiny in it? I most certainly do. Think about it. You, the traveling man, hiding your identity, keeping a low profile, and yet here you are now, a man of the law. You stop your traveling at the same time that Chris stops his. Buck happened to be passing through just when his old friend Chris Larabee was, and when he was needed. I run into a unique and unlikely spot of trouble. Nathan is being lynched at precisely that moment, precisely that location, that a young JD Dunne steps off the stagecoach seeking adventure. And Josiah gets his message from above just when we ask for his help. I would say, personally, that that is a sign of fate. Destinies joined at one moment. That's how fate works. We were all drawn here for a reason, even if that includes, sadly, JD's death. It's all part of a cosmic deliberateness."

With a twisted smile, Vin shook his head. "Ezra, sometimes I have no idea what in hell you're talkin' about."

"Just that it was written in the stars that we would band together to fulfill our heroic roles in this shabby little town." He shuffled the cards with a flourish. "Either that, or we are all simply in thrall to Mr. Larabee's glowing charisma."

They laughed together, possibly the first time any of them had laughed in days. Buck pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. "Well, Ezra, it is our fate to go relieve Josiah and Chris." He stood up and put his hat on, tipping it at Vin. "JD will be fine. I truly believe it. He has to be."

Vin nodded in return. He sat for awhile in the saloon, contemplating what Ezra had said. It wasn't often Vin thought about it, but he had on a few occasions considered the strange luck of being in this exact spot at the exact time everything came together. At first he'd tried to avoid being involved, but it was not in his nature to sit by while an injustice was done. He'd been willing to risk it all himself, but catching Chris's eye across the street had likely sealed his fate right then.

And at times it had seemed that they were all in need of something right then, something to change them. Vin had spent most of his life apart, removed from the world. He had few needs, no real desires. Any town was as good as the next, any bed or any girl in it as fine with him as another. Accustomed to this lack of need, he moved through the world without being part of it, until that day. Chris had brought him back into the world; the other five had completed the task and made him unavoidably a part of the world again.

Because he was to relieve them in the morning for his watch, he decided to go upstairs to sleep, but just as he rose he saw Chris amble through the door, his long frame silhouetted against the light. Vin sat back down and poured the last of the whiskey as Chris ordered another bottle. Chris took his hat off and sat next to him.

"Pearl's a mighty chatty fellow."

"But I bet he ain't chatting about what we want to hear."

"Nope. Nope, he's not. But he did tell me that McMahon came on there because he heard about us, and you in particular. Figured he could double his money." Chris rolled the whiskey around in his glass for a while, then knocked it back before speaking again. "You really think I'm sounding like a wretch?" he asked.

Confused, Vin said, "I don't know what you mean."

"Today. You said that people think being a bounty hunter makes you a wretch, but at least it isn't all about revenge. I figure that's your subtle way of telling me you think I'm a wretch."

Vin raised his eyebrows and tried not to smile. "I think you're mad as hell and you aim to go too far. What happened to JD... Chris, it ain't your fault. It ain't any of our faults. JD made his own decision to be here, and this whole thing got way out of hand at the beginning. You can't change it by hunting people down and killing them. You can't bring people back by killing other people."

Chris looked at him sharply and poured another shot of whiskey. Vin knew he'd stepped over a line, that Chris would get bitter drunk tonight, probably get himself in trouble. They had never talked about Ella Gaines and her role in the death of Chris's family, or of Chris's long search for revenge and what had led him to his itinerant life. It was understood that those things had happened and he had moved on, but Vin knew how hard Chris was trying to conceal those scars.

The kind of man Chris was, Vin understood, but there was a dark part of him that Vin believed had always been there, it had just grown darker and colder after Sarah's and Adam's death. As much as he knew Chris had slowly begun to overcome that, Vin still feared that part of his soul that had never stopped bleeding from its wounds. Feared for Chris's sanity.

"We got more trouble," Chris said, staring into his glass.

Vin waited for him to explain.

"Mary Travis brought us by some food. Told me that Bishop has a brother over Flagstaff way. Guess someone wired him before the killings about what was going on, and now the brother is coming gunning for Pearl. And he ain't nearly so decent a citizen, and seems he's bringing his own bunch of guns. By now he'll know about the murders."

Shaking his head, Vin said, "Aw shit. How soon is he expected?"

"Don't know. But we got to be ready."

"Think anything else is coming? Fire? Pestilence? Flood?"

"Never rains but it pours. Anyways, Mary's already wired the judge. Seems he decided enough was enough and the governor's sending a detachment from Fort Yuma."

"I'm surprised the governor'd be willing to do anything for us, considering what happened here."

"We ain't at the top of his party list, that's for sure. But I reckon he knows how bad this could look if he doesn't do something."

"Kinda unusual for him to take a stand against someone like Pearl, though."

"I think the cavalry is more *for* Pearl than anything else."

Vin nodded. Pearl was an educated man, involved in a lot of area politics, not the least of which was anti-statehood activity. He was more refined and ambitious than men like Guy Royal and the other thugs and bullies who ranched cattle around the area. They cared only about money and land, but Pearl had larger ideas and larger expectations of what power really was, which was partly why Vin mistrusted him even more than the others.

Chris looked at him expectantly. "You seen any sign of that bounty hunter?"

"Not since yesterday. He's a long, long way from Tascosa. I might not be an easier payday for him than what either side will pay him for this little war. Maybe he's decided to stick around for the fun, not for me."

"You thinking the rest of the homesteaders are going to be hiring guns, too?"

"If not, when Bishop's brother gets here, they probably will. They been hurt enough by Pearl, and by the railroad, to want some payback of their own. Some of them are rustlers, sure as hell, but most of them just wanted to live here in peace. Problem is, if the cavalry gets in the middle of it, they're gonna have a lot harder time sorting it all out."

Moving his fingers over a knot in the wooden table, Chris looked sideways at Vin. "You were right, at the beginning. We could have stopped it then. Before Joshua Pearl was dead, before JD... well, you were right."

All Vin could do in return was shake his head. His own notions of what was right in this place were no better or worse than Chris's, or Buck's, or anyone else's. But he realized that Chris was looking for an easy way to lay blame on himself. He answered, "I said before. No right or wrong here no more. Everyone's done something."

"JD's dying," Chris ground out between gritted teeth. "There's eleven people dead so far, and that don't count what happens tomorrow or the next day. If we're lucky, Pearl will go to trial, but like as not he'll pay off one politician or another and get off free. I always go around telling everyone I'm the law around here. Well, some law. I can't even keep a kid alive."

"So you go around killing these people for vengeance, that make you a whole man again, Chris? Bring you back a little of that humanity you lost?"

He drank silently for some time, and Vin considered whether it was best to just go upstairs and try to sleep. When Chris was like this, there was nothing to be done, even Buck couldn't reason with him. Vin looked at Chris's face, the green eyes haunted, dark circles underneath them. His blond hair was smoothed back, but he looked worn and ragged. For one brief second, Vin thought that he seemed fragile enough to hold, and that feeling panicked him.

"It's all so easy for you, isn't it?" Chris asked bitterly. "You just move from place to place, don't get to know anyone, keep it all inside yourself. Don't ever have to know what it feels like to hurt for someone, because you don't care enough to do that."

He felt his cheeks grow hot, but Vin tried to hold down his anger because he knew where this was coming from. "You think that's easy?" he snapped. "You think being alone your whole life, always looking over your shoulder, never having anyone to talk to is easy? You can go to hell, Chris."

Instead of being combative, Chris hung his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Vin." He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. Over time, Vin had thought that as broken a man as Chris was, their friendship was slowly rebuilding him. The more he had to focus on -- the welfare of this town, the friendship of the other six and of Mary Travis -- the stronger he'd seemed to grow, but now Vin realized how rickety that foundation was.

Vin waved his hand absently in the air. Instead of hating him, he wanted in that moment to prove to Chris how wrong he was, to tell him how much his friendship meant, how much Chris had changed his life, but he had no idea how to say it. He'd asked Mary Travis for help in learning to read; it was something he could not ask Chris because he had been so afraid of being a disappointment to him. He wasn't a man of words, they came hard to him whether on the page or in his mouth, but he knew this precious thing of friendship now, and wished so much that there was a way for him to convince Chris that he was worth the receipt of it.

Chris raised his glass towards Vin. "To JD."

Vin tossed the remainder of his whiskey back and rose. "I'm heading to bed. Gotta be up to change watch with Ezra and Buck." Chris nodded, staring at the table.

Vin had just come all the way up the stairs when he heard Chris's spurs behind him. He stopped in the narrow hall and turned to see Chris on the landing, wobbly.

Pausing, his hand on the doorknob, Vin opened his mouth to ask a question. Chris took two long steps towards him, moving his right arm up to pin Vin to the wall. His first reaction was to block Chris's arm, but he suddenly pulled back, not certain what Chris was going to do. There was a kind of fury in Chris's eyes, his body tensed and hard. He pulled his head back and glared at Chris.

Quickly Chris leaned forward and brought his mouth against Vin's, pressing his body the length of Vin's and shoving him hard against the wall. Vin jerked his head, trying to get away, then he let go, his mouth open to Chris's, the liquid heat of it shaking him to the bone. A slow, curling lick of flame started in his groin and spread up to his chest.

He felt Chris's hand go around to his rump, the fingers pressing on the space where thigh met buttock, and Chris thrust forward, met by Vin's own hips pushing forward. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. But he could hear -- footsteps, a woman giggling loudly, a male voice.

Chris stepped back at the sound, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his face filled with fear. "I... I'm sorry, Vin."

Instead of speaking, Vin was paralyzed and stared stupidly back at Chris. Without saying another word, Chris turned back down the stairs and was gone from sight before Vin could think what had happened.

He was reeling, stuck to the wall, drawing in deep, heavy breaths. He had no idea what had just occurred, no way to order the universe that was spinning around him. The only certainty he had was that Chris had kissed him, and he had kissed Chris back with an intensity he'd been unaware he possessed.

Everything about Chris that he thought he knew was turned upside-down. Hell, everything he thought about himself had gone the same way, he realized. All this time he'd thought of his friendship with Chris as something deeper, something stronger, but he would never have thought it was something like this.

And yet he couldn't deny that he'd responded. Or that as Chris had pulled away, both of them panting, chests heaving, he'd wanted to grab him back.

He went to his room and lay on the bed, feeling worse than if he'd drunk a whole bottle of whiskey by himself. Chris had been drunk, no doubt about it, in one of his raging moods, but that didn't explain any of this. Would he hear Chris's steps if he waited long enough? Or would Chris go back to the hotel, or Nathan's, in order to avoid Vin? He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, whether Chris came back or not.

Hours later, Vin gave up and went downstairs. He would relieve Buck and Ezra early since he couldn't sleep, but first he went to his wagon to get a few things he had put off in the business of the past few days. It was early, not yet dawn, but already he could see the stirrings of a town waking up. As he pulled the flap down and turned, he was startled by a figure standing behind him. Instantly he reached for his gun, but before he could get hold of it, the man was swinging the stock of a shotgun up at his face, he felt a blinding flash of pain, and then everything went black.

Chris lit another cheroot and blew the match out with the smoke from his first drag, waiting until the flame had almost reached his fingertips. A few butts littered the ground at his feet along with a nearly empty whiskey bottle, the one they'd been working on when he had followed Vin up the stairs.

For hours he'd been trying to understand why he'd done it. He'd come up with all kinds of different reasons, but the real one eluded him. Not a man normally given to examining his reasons for anything, this kind of introspection was grating to him, a pointless exercise.

Josiah had been telling him that Vin had changed because of Chris, and Chris because of Vin. Maybe that was true. But what, beyond friendship, could change a man this much? He'd kissed Vin, and might have done more if he hadn't been brought to his senses in time. The way Vin had responded back surprised him more than anything, shocked him out of his own desires.

After smoking the last of the cheroots, Chris got up and went to the jail, figuring to see Vin. He knew he had to face him at some point, and at least if they were on watch, they could deal with it. He knew Vin well enough to know that he would never have slept, would likely have picked up his shift early. The scarlet and pink of sunrise had faded by now and he was shocked to realize he'd been up all night. When he arrived at the jail, he was surprised to find Ezra and Buck still there, mad as hell.

"Where's Vin?" they both asked him, angrily.

"I don't know. He was supposed to be here. Guess I better go check his room."

"We already sent someone over there. He has apparently departed without sleeping, and his wagon seems untouched, as well."

"Departed? What do you mean?" Chris barked.

"Nowhere to be found around town, Chris," Buck said, impatiently. "And I'm tired and hungry, and you two were supposed to be on watch."

His mind was reeling, trying to assess what could have happened. "Where's his horse? Did he take his saddlebags?" It had to be McMahon. But if he took Vin, did he take him dead or alive?

Buck shrugged.

"Look, I'll get Josiah to relieve you, Buck. Ezra, you're pulling double duty." Ezra glared at him but Chris didn't give a damn. "I got a feeling about where Vin is. Not a very good feeling."

Standing back from the desk, Buck asked, "You thinking bounty again?"

"That price on Mr. Tanner's head is going to be a continual thorn in our sides if he doesn't rectify the situation with those Texas bumpkins," Ezra commented.

Chris shot him a furious look and strode out the door. He saw Vin's hat, far under the wagon, and picked it up, his first clue. By the time he'd finished searching, he knew Vin had been taken alive by McMahon, but that was about all he knew. The harder work was to assess just where they'd gone and what route. The logical thing would be to take him by stage or rail at least some of the way, but the stage wasn't due until late afternoon. The livery was only a partial help as the stablehand had seen McMahon just the previous night. All Chris could do was hope that heading in the general direction towards the Texas panhandle would help him find the way; the irony was that Vin was their tracker and all Chris could offer was the most rudimentary of skills. It would only make sense to follow the Gila as far as they could, so at least it was a trail to start on. Maybe, just maybe, Vin would be able to leave him some signs to follow. Assuming McMahon hadn't changed his mind along the way and decided it was okay to take Vin back dead rather than alive.

He was digging through Vin's wagon, filling the saddlebag with spare clothes and provisions, when he heard Buck's voice behind him.

"What the hell are we gonna do now, if you go haring off after Tanner?"

Chris turned to him helplessly. "What else can I do?"

"Chris, in case you ain't been paying attention, we got one of the most powerful men in the territory in our jail right now, and god knows how many of his men are out there, waiting to spring him or worse. And we got a man with vengeance on his mind and his own collection of hired guns heading our way. We're already down two men. We can't lose another two."

Inside those words, Chris knew what Buck was saying -- that the two strongest were not the ones to lose. But he couldn't do anything about it.

Chris threw Vin's saddlebag over his shoulder and hefted his own onto his horse.

"Buck, I been paying attention. Judge Travis is coming to town, and he's already asked the governor for help from Fort Yuma. We can't fight this anyhow, even if me and Vin weren't gone. It's out of our hands now, and the only thing that will save this place is soldiers and a cannon. Go talk to Mary, she'll tell you."

"Even if there's soldiers and the judge on their way, who's to say they're gonna get here before Bishop's brother and his gang do?"

He put a hand on Buck's shoulder. "I have to do this, Buck. He's my friend."

For a long time, Buck stared silently at him, more quiet and sad than Chris had ever seen him. "You think you're the only person who ever lost anyone? You think that all the loss you've suffered means more than anyone else's? You got that wrong, pard. We *all* got something to deal with. You think I don't hurt for Sarah and Adam, too, and that I know I played a part in that? If JD dies, you think I'm gonna get out of bed the same way I do every morning and face the day? We all lose people we care about, Chris, all the time. Only difference is, some of us walk through it. We don't let it turn us into cripples."

Chris wasn't even angry at these words, just resigned. He didn't believe Buck meant it, he was just lashing out the way he always did, acting without thinking. "I know, Buck. But I can't lose any more people. Not Vin." He couldn't look Buck in the eye, afraid that he'd said too much and Buck would see through him.

"I know he was framed up for murder. But this is his problem. And all this... this mess with Pearl, this is our problem. *All* of ours."

"You can handle it. I know you can. You don't need me, Buck, none of you do. But Vin needs me right now."

Then he looked at Buck's eyes. Buck pulled his head back, searching Chris's face for some other explanation, and seemed to crumple. "So that's it," he said quietly. "That's what you been looking for all this time? Just for someone to need you?"

"I expect so." Chris mounted his horse and turned away. "I'd do the same for you. And if I don't do this, I can't live with myself."

"All right, Chris. All right." He turned away, then back to look at Chris. "You swear you'd do the same for me?"

They looked at each other for a moment, smiling. Chris touched the reins, spurred his horse, and rode after Vin.

After riding for three days with his hands tied behind his back, Vin's stomach and thigh muscles ached from trying to keep himself on his horse. His endless complaints had finally got through to McMahon and he'd tied Vin's hands in front, so he could hold on to the saddle horn. The saddle rigging and stirrups were all wrong, and the way his hands had been tied before, he couldn't even grab on to the cantle, so it was a job keeping himself from sliding off on some of the more awkward parts of the ride. It wasn't a great improvement, but at least he was steadier. The one good thing was that now he could try to leave better signs for Chris along the way than the meager, easily missed signals he'd created before. The horse Vin rode was roped to McMahon's with just enough lead that Vin could work unobserved at tearing some small pieces of fabric from his shirt, in the hopes that Chris would be following his trail.

That was all it was, really: hope. He had no reason to believe that Chris would come after him, not after the harsh words they'd had before, and especially not after the kiss. There was also the situation with Pearl and Bishop's brother, not to mention JD. Adding all those things together, the odds of Chris coming after him this time were too small to count. He was resigned to that, had accepted it, because this had never been Chris's fight -- it was no one's problem but his own.

The notion that he could have gone to Tascosa, even with Chris, to clear his name had seemed less and less likely to him since Eli Joe's death. Vin knew he'd made himself easy prey. He didn't hold it against McMahon for getting the drop on him. Somebody's granny could have got the drop on him if she'd wanted to, he was so preoccupied with Chris's actions. And his own. So few things had ever made him feel that way, that burning ice inside his veins, and he was as awed by his own physical response as he'd been by the thing that started it.

But if he ever saw Chris again, what would they say to each other? They weren't all that fond of words anyway so resolution seemed improbable at best. Would Chris be too embarrassed? Would Vin? Even if all the other events of the past few weeks hadn't happened, he could see Chris's pride keeping him away, so maybe all this was for the best.

In all his years alone, he'd never given any real thought to a man, although it wasn't that he reacted badly to the notion. His life had been so aimless that he'd had to become adaptable, enough so that he had learned never to think in absolutes. You took what you could get, when you could get it, and didn't worry over the rest. He'd met men who cared for other men. It was known but not discussed. It was not your business. He hadn't necessarily thought such a thing of Chris, but then, from what he'd heard from Ella and from Buck, Chris had been a pretty wild fellow earlier in his life. Or maybe Chris just thought it was all a game, had wanted to toy with him to get him to feel something since he seemed to believe Vin didn't care about anything.

Possibly he was most surprised by being kissed at all -- not by it being a man, not by it being a friend, and not the suddenness or ferocity of it, simply that someone had wanted to kiss him. In hindsight, that was certainly one of the many things that had attracted to him to Charlotte; her interest from the start had helped influence his own feelings deeper than they might otherwise have gone for a married woman. There were dozens of pretty girls he'd met over the years, but having someone else look at him with the same hunger he knew in himself was an amazement to him. Women had told him he was a handsome man, but that didn't mean much to him. He sure didn't see it.

By the end of the day, Vin had managed to tear off another corner of fabric from the tail of his shirt. It would be so unlikely that Chris would have even found the first one from yesterday or any of the other signs he'd tried to leave, but he had to at least try. They were staying as close as possible to the river, so this bend was where they'd make camp for the night. He thought they must be near St. James by now.

McMahon wasn't much for talk or niceties, and he undid the rope around Vin's waist and hauled him off the horse, then tied him to the nearest tree. He wasn't terribly generous with food, either, and after four days, Vin was beginning to think that McMahon would be bringing back nothing but a bag of bones by the time they'd finished the long ride back to Tascosa. Which wouldn't matter to McMahon, since he got paid the same either way. Vin was hot, sunburnt, thirsty, exhausted, and nearly hopeless, but most of all, he was lonely.

McMahon tossed him a blanket, and they settled in for the evening. After nightfall Vin watched the smoke curl up through the gnarled branches of the trees, veiling the sprinkling of stars above him. Here, he thought, was the cheat of love and friendship, of feeling like you belonged somewhere or to someone: that in the end, it was taken away. You couldn't keep it. If he'd been smart, he would have hit the road the instant they'd finished with the Seminole village, because then he wouldn't feel the emptiness of so much loss.

There was water up ahead and they would be low by now, Chris reasoned. He'd catch up with them there. He put Vin's spyglass in his pocket. They would make camp with nightfall so close and he could get the drop on McMahon before they even woke in the morning. For two days he'd been getting closer, although at first he'd been convinced he wasn't even on the right trail to find Vin at all. He'd gotten such a slow start that early on the trail had gone cold. Realizing his mistake, he'd doubled back, but it had been more riding before he'd found the signs Vin was leaving for him. Chris had learned a lot about tracking from Vin over the past year, but without those things along the way, he might still have missed them.

He was pleased that Vin had assumed he would follow. The last time, when Eli Joe had been ready to hang Vin, they'd both acted like it was nothing that Chris had rescued him at the last minute. He felt hopeful for the first time in days that they could resolve all they'd left behind in Four Corners, that Vin would be back by his side soon. McMahon was astonishingly confident that no one would follow them -- either he'd arrogantly assumed no one cared enough, or had decided that the problems back in town would prevent anyone from finding time to track a wanted man. Either way, he left himself open to Vin's own sabotage and Chris's relentless drive to get Vin back.

Chris leaned back against the trunk of a tree, rifle in his arm, for a few hours shut-eye. He listened to the sounds of an owl hooting above him before he drifted off. When he awoke it was still dark. He saddled the horse and rode towards the firelight, dismounting a hundred or so feet away. Moving slowly and deliberately, he went forward until he came upon the camp. Dawn was just becoming a smudge of blue on the horizon by the time he reached them.

He saw Vin tied to a mesquite tree whose main trunk curved like a harp, and then McMahon closer to the fire, still asleep. Vin's head came up and he looked at Chris, his face betraying his amusement.

Chris shoved the rifle barrel into McMahon's neck and stuck a booted foot on top of his back. "Wake up." McMahon's eyes opened but he remained still, then he put his hands outside the blanket.

"I got a right to take Tanner back to Texas," he said quietly.

"Not to turn him in for something he didn't do."

"Heard that story already." McMahon slid the blanket off and got up very slowly, hands in the air. "If Tanner didn't want to get picked up, he should have kept a lower profile."

"Untie him." Chris walked them over to Vin, and McMahon hastily cut the rope around Vin's hands and his waist. He handed the knife over to Vin with a look of disgust. Chris nodded at Vin. "Get the guns and his war bag."

"What exactly do you aim to do with me?'

As he went through the bags, Vin watched Chris.

"Guess it's up to Tanner here. We can leave you here by yourself, or we can shoot you so you won't cause any more trouble. I'm inclined to the latter; don't see a reason to leave you alive."

Finally Vin spoke. "Man was just doing his job, Chris. We can't kill him for that."

In a way, Chris had been hoping McMahon would put up a fight, because he wanted to kill him. If they let the man go and he lived, they'd be followed all the way back to Four Corners. The only way out was to shoot him. St. James was too close, there was too much of a chance that someone could find McMahon if they simply left him here.

He thought Vin must have sensed this, because Vin suddenly stepped in front of McMahon. "I don't want to be responsible for a real murder, Chris. You can't do this."

"He'll be back if we let him go." Chris beseeched him with a look to understand that this was unacceptable. Vin stared at him for the longest time, his mouth closed in a tight line, his eyes filled with fire. He looked tired and hungry, ragged and dirty. "Tie him up."

"No, Chris."

"Tie him up!" Chris shouted. Vin glared at him and bent to tie McMahon's hands behind his back. He motioned with his head to Chris, and they walked closer to the tree.

"You can't know how grateful I am that you came after me. But you can't help me if you do this."

Chris took off his hat and ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "If we leave him here, even without a horse and kit, even if we tie him up, he could still come out of it. And come right back after us. The only way to make sure is to kill him. What difference does it make? He was one of the men who killed Bishop and the Gilberts. We *know* that, we saw him there. He's as much a murderer as the people in Tascosa think you are."

Vin turned his back on Chris and paced back and forth. "We keep talking about clearing my name. About me going to Tascosa and getting the truth out. But I haven't got the faintest idea how to go about that now that Eli Joe's dead, do you understand? There may be no way for me to ever get this bounty off my head, and the last damn thing I need is more blood on my hands."

In their many conversations about Vin's time as a bounty hunter, he'd come to understand that Vin was equal parts ashamed of and complacent about it. But he didn't understand this reaction at all. "It won't be on your hands."

Vin turned to look at him, so filled with pity and sadness. "Aw, Chris, if it's on your hands, it'll be on mine. You can't do this, not for me. You're not a murderer. I can't live with it if you become one for me."

Chris stared back at him, time stretching before them like the desert horizon. He stepped forward and pressed his forehead against the tree, then knocked his head against the trunk a few more times. When he stopped, he took a deep breath, leaning against the tree. "Tie him to the tree, then. We'll take the horses."

Vin nodded at him and roughly roped McMahon to the mesquite. As they started up the incline, Chris heard a noise behind them and turned to see McMahon kneeling up with a small pistol in his hand -- just like Ezra's, he realized thickly and slowly, tucked up under the sleeve -- aiming at Vin. Chris had just enough time to draw and fire, but his shot was late. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vin spin backwards. Then his remaining shots hit McMahon hard in the chest and the man went back, flat against the tree. Chris holstered his revolver and walked slowly forward to make sure McMahon was dead, then ran back to Vin, who was sitting on the ground holding his kerchief to his shoulder, blood seeping between his fingers.

"Not much of a job tying him down," Chris barked.

Vin ignored him.

"Did you search him?"

"Guess I didn't search him good enough."

Chris frantically looked through one of the saddlebags for an extra shirt, then began tearing it into strips for a bandage. For a moment he looked at Vin, trying to see if he looked guilty, as if he had done it intentionally. Was this what Vin had hoped McMahon would do? He knew it was useless to ask, because Vin would never tell him if he did.

"How bad is it?" Chris asked as he tried to stanch the blood.

"Not too bad. Think the bullet went right through the meat. Just a little thirty-two, anyway."

Vin started laughing and Chris rested back on his heels, taking him in. Vin said, "All the trouble we had back in Four Corners, and I finally get plugged with a little thirty-two out here in the middle of nowhere." He sobered quickly. "Not as bad as JD, though."

"JD was still alive when I left."

Vin nodded.

"We got a long trip back." He tightened the bandage around Vin's shoulder, then went to the stream to fill the canteens. Vin was standing, woozily, by the horses, watching him as he'd walked past McMahon's body.

"We should bury him," Vin said quietly. He pulled the small shovel out of the kit on McMahon's horse. Chris grabbed it from him and sighed.

"Start gathering up those rocks with your good arm."

They rode the rest of the day silently, finally making camp in an arroyo with a small spring-fed stream. Vin had desperately wanted to wash up, get some of the blood and grime of the past few days off of him. Chris tossed him the extra clothes he'd pulled before leaving Four Corners. Vin had looked at them -- things he said he hadn't worn in an age -- and smiled at Chris, as if amused by his confidence that they'd have caught up with each other. He'd given Vin his hat earlier and had received the same strange smile.

Chris sat on the ground building a fire. He looked up as Vin walked towards him from the stream, naked and glowing in the early evening night. Even with his clothes draped over his arm in front of him, enough of his body was visible that Chris felt his breath catch in his throat.

"Hoo, that's cold! But I'm glad to wash some of this off me. Could use a shave too, but I expect I got a few more days before that."

Vin dried off and began to dress, putting on the fresh clothes and throwing the bloody, dirty ones in the saddlebag. There wasn't much to be done about his coat. He looked more like the buffalo hunter he once was in those buckskins and the fringed coat, Chris thought.

After Vin was done he stopped and looked thoughtfully at Chris. "Why'd you do such a damn fool thing when everything's going to hell back home? This ain't going away, you know. It'll just keep coming back." Vin didn't say the rest of what Chris knew he was thinking -- that Chris would not always be able to rescue him.

"Maybe. But as long as I'm around, we'll put up a fight."

He put the larger pieces of wood on the tinder and sat back, looking past Vin towards the stream.

"You still didn't answer my question." Vin crouched down by the slowly growing fire, the buckskin pants stretched tight across his knees, his hands in front of the flame.

Chris considered it for a while, stripping the bark from a stick with his knife, not looking at Vin. "I reckon you know." He didn't look up for a time, but eventually glanced up and caught Vin's eye.

"Reckon I do." He sat back slowly on the ground cloth, favoring his arm, and put his head on the saddle.

"Hurts bad?" Chris asked.

"It's been worse. It's just hard to move my arm."

Chris moved around the fire and unbuttoned the shirt Vin had just put on, pushing it back to expose the damp but clean bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Vin watched him with intense concentration, his mouth set in a line.

"I could have made a good poultice for that, but I'd need a few things I don't see around here," Vin offered.

"Like what? There's still a little light, I could go look."

"Nah, no dyeweed or agave around these parts."

"Just wishing Nathan was here. At least he could tie this up better than me." He took his hands away and sat back on his heels.

"I'm not." Vin made no effort to pull the shirt back across his chest. The sun had set now, and in the light of the fire, he looked lovely to Chris. "Wishing Nathan was here, that is."

He looked down at Vin, who seemed so at ease and relaxed, the exact opposite of what he felt. All he could think of was how bitterly disappointed in him Vin must be, to have watched him stoop to such levels as he had this morning. Chris watched Vin's impassive face for a time as the shadows moved across it, then said, "You must truly think I'm a wretch now."

"A... no. Why?"

"I didn't care if I killed him."

"You wouldn't have hesitated if that's really the kind of man you are. You'd have killed him in his sleep." Vin stared at him, his brows knit in concern.

"I didn't need an excuse."

"Whatever else you are, whatever you became when... when you lost your family, you didn't become a cold-blooded murderer."

Vin's faith in him was touching, even if he did think it was misguided. And he felt something ease off his shoulders, some ghostly burden he carried without being aware of it. In this instant, for one brief flicker of time, he felt whole again.

He unbuckled his rig and put the guns to the other side of Vin's saddle, then took his hat off.

"It wasn't just the whiskey the other night."

"I know."

Chris moved his hand along Vin's pale, smooth stomach, then slid it lower. Vin's flesh felt as soft and warm as the buckskin that covered it. Vin placed his hand over Chris's hand, moving them both lower to cover his cock and Chris breathed in sharply as he felt its warm hardness. He leaned down to put his mouth against Vin's, sober this time, every move intentional and careful. Vin kissed him back, open-mouthed, earnest. Chris could feel the rough, sunburnt skin of Vin's lips against his own, the scratch of his beard. Vin moved his hand inside Chris's trousers, and then Chris moved atop him and they stroked each other with their hands, their bodies, the sweetest friction making Chris's heart pound at a gallop.

Vin worked Chris's trousers down as Chris did the same for him. Vin kept his mouth firmly pressed to Chris's, kissing him so deeply Chris felt like he was drowning. They moved with each other, rubbing and rocking together slowly and in time, until Vin hitched in a deep breath in climax, silently bucking underneath Chris's hips. Chris kept moving against him until he felt himself coming, a snarl of pure pleasure rising from his throat.

Gulping in his breath, he looked at Vin, so inscrutable in the firelight. Vin smiled at him and squeezed his arm, not saying a word. Chris used his kerchief to gently clean Vin off, then himself.

They stayed that way for some time as Chris leaned up on his arm above Vin. He was aware only of the warmth from their bodies, so close, and the crackling of the fire, the dusty heat of the night air. Earlier he'd been looking at Vin for some sign that he had intended for McMahon to draw on them, now he found himself searching for something else, a sign of what Vin expected from him. There was something within his blue eyes, but Chris had never seen it before. Something peaceful that drew him in.

"It's all right. It's all right to want someone," Vin said softly, wrapping his hand around Chris's arm.

"You're one to talk." Chris laughed wryly.

"Yeah, I know," Vin answered. "Wasn't expecting this myself, 'specially not with another fellow."

"But it is how it is. Ain't surprised it's you, though. You're the only true thing in my life since..." His words drifted away in the night air. All along he'd thought that to care again would betray Sarah and Adam's memory. He didn't know how he should feel about this.

"I know. I could say the same." Vin smiled gently, his eyes alight even in the darkness, looking up at Chris. "It's all right, Chris. It'll all be okay."

After taking a deep breath, Chris pulled his trousers up, did the same for Vin, and then sat beside him. "I imagine you must be hungry."

"Nah. I'm fine here."

"I'm going to make you eat something. Keep your strength up." Vin looked as if McMahon hadn't fed him since they left. It seemed like one more example of how accustomed to doing without Vin was.

"I don't think I have any strength left now." Vin grinned widely at him, and Chris looked away, embarrassed. "Anyway, I'm mostly just tired. Haven't slept much for the past few days."

Chris pulled the blanket up over Vin's shoulders. "Then why don't you sleep. I'll cook up something in case you're hungry when you wake up."

Smiling, Vin said, "Stay on this side of the fire, though, okay?"

"I can do that."

After eating something himself, checking the horses, and cleaning up, he pulled his own blanket around him and lay down next to Vin, his revolver set close on his other side. Eventually he dozed off, only to be wakened by Vin jolting upright, shouting out, hand around his throat as if he was clutching at something.

Chris put a gentle hand on Vin's shoulder. "Hey. Hey there," he said soothingly. "You having a nightmare?"

Vin lay back down, putting his hand over his eyes and taking deep breaths. "I've had this dream a long time now. Comes and goes. I keep seeing Eli Joe, and they're hanging me again, only this time you're not there. I can feel the slip noose around my neck."

He settled in next to Vin. So this was partly why Vin was so edgy, so anxious to go to Tascosa. "You afraid it'll never go away until you get your name cleared?"

"Pretty much."

"We'll figure something out, Vin. We will."

He hoped the conviction in his voice communicated what he felt. In all this time, he'd never realized that what he needed most in his life was for someone to trust him again and to feel that his own trustworthiness was earned. He'd left his family and harm had come to them; the only way to restore his lost integrity and strength was to be trusted and needed again. It was really only Vin's belief in him that had stopped him from killing McMahon this morning.

"I hope you're right, Chris." He drifted back into sleep as Chris watched him for a time.

When he woke in the morning, the sky was scarlet and orange above them. Vin stood farther away, silhouetted against the sky. As if sensing Chris awake, he turned.

"Morning."

"Morning," Chris answered, rubbing his hand over his hair and stretching. "Now what's on your mind?"

Vin looked quizzically at him. "One minute you were all set to stay with Ella and make a home for yourself; now you're stuck to my side like a burr."

Chris gulped water from his canteen, then wiped his mouth. "Guess I was."

"If you was all set to leave, why put yourself on the line for me now? You didn't seem to be all that needful of me before."

"At the time, that was what I thought I wanted. Now I know different. Things have changed, and what I want's changed." He thought of Josiah's words. *They* had changed, not just the situation.

This questioning seemed so unlike Vin that it threw Chris for a loop. He watched as Vin came over closer to him and knelt down. "I'm not asking you to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Just wanted to know what's on your mind."

They nodded at each other. From the first time he'd seen Vin Tanner, nodding his head so slightly in just this way, he'd felt they were sides of the same coin. Maybe this was what he'd been waiting for. Chris didn't really know, he only knew that right now this *was* what he wanted, and it fit him, the way his rig or his boots or his saddle fit him.

The closer they got to Four Corners, the more miserable Vin felt. The past few days had seemed perfect: the two of them out on the trail, alone in their silences, together in their affections. It would end soon, possibly less than a day if they rode straight through. He knew that what waited for them up ahead could only put them back where they'd been before -- JD either dead or dying from his wounds, all-out warfare going on between Bishop's brother and his gang and Pearl's men.

He took care of the horses while Chris set up camp, wondering again how he was going to explain coming back to town with McMahon's sorrel gelding and the roan he'd been riding all this time. Vin figured on a lot of explaining, a lot of looks from everyone else. It wouldn't take Josiah or Buck long to know that something had changed between Chris and him. The day before, Chris had told him what Josiah had said when they'd brought Pearl in. Vin laughed to himself, knowing that Josiah was right -- they had changed each other. For the good, he thought. If Chris had slowly worked himself towards being a whole man again, if he was finally allowing his scars to heal, that could only be for the good. Vin wasn't certain of exactly how he'd changed -- he never thought of himself through other's eyes or considered how they would see him -- but he knew he had.

The biggest change for him was thinking of anyplace as home. He kept turning the phrase over and over in his mind -- that they would be home soon. He marveled at that notion. Not since he was a child, before his mother had died, had he felt like he had a home. A room, a place to eat or sleep, those things were not homes. Chris had asked him once about what happened after his mother died, and all Vin could really remember was that his only relatives, back east, had not wanted him, so he'd gone to stay with a local minister's family, then another, until he could take care of himself. The details and the people were deliberately forgotten.

Vin wandered over to the watering hole where Chris was squatting, throwing water on his face. "Don't need to do that for me," Vin said and knelt down next to him.

"Getting itchy. You could use a scrub yourself." He finished up and dried off.

"I'll take that under consideration." Vin continued to kneel by the water, dipping his canteens in to fill them.

He knew that Chris still wondered if he had purposely not searched McMahon. They hadn't talked about it, although they should have. Vin didn't really know the answer himself. It had bothered him that Chris would be willing to kill McMahon for no other reason than that he'd taken Vin for the bounty. No matter how much Chris had changed, Vin wondered if that part of him could ever really go away. That darkness had existed inside Chris even before he married Sarah and maybe there really was no healing for it, not all the way.

He ran his fingers through the water a few times, then looked up at Chris. "I don't know why I didn't find the gun on McMahon. I don't know why I didn't tie him up as good as I should have. If I wanted that to happen, I didn't plan on it that way." He stood up. "I reckon you wanted to know."

Chris took a deep breath, then nodded his head and walked back to where they'd laid the saddles. Vin joined him, taking the coffee Chris offered him as he sat. Chris's eyes looked as dark as the twilight sky around them.

Each night they'd come together like lovers in hiding, silently, nervously, hungry for each other. Vin could not get enough of the taste of Chris, the heat of his skin, the tremble in his hand when he touched Vin. His heart would beat so fast his chest felt tight; it matched Chris's own pounding heartbeat. Was it from fear, or from excitement? They seemed intertwined to Vin.

His nightmares had not eased, but that wasn't why he avoided sleep. He wanted to be awake at night, to spend those moments physically connected to Chris, because he knew their time together was so short. If Vin was willing to deal with the sneers or hostility of others who might figure out what had happened with them, he had no illusions that Chris would be. As much as Chris might not care what others thought of him, he could not see this as anything but a violation of his family's memory. Vin understood that and accepted it even while it left him with a terrible longing.

In the morning they prepared themselves for the final leg of the ride with a cloud hanging over them both. Vin mentioned his concerns at what would greet them in Four Corners, that he was especially tense over the prospect of Bishop's brother not being given a chance against the soldiers.

Chris said, "We don't have a choice. We agreed to do a job. You agreed to be involved the day you took that gun to defend Nathan."

"It ain't right. I don't like upholding the law for what ain't right."

"A lot of things ain't right. But the sun comes up in the morning and it sets at night, and the world keeps going on. You'd have a mighty short life if you put down your gun and gave up just because something wasn't right."

"I'm not giving up. Who said I'm giving up? I'm just saying that we ought to warn Bishop away or talk reason to him, something so we can stop it before it gets started. Do both those brothers got to get killed over this thing? No one's going to win this. Least of all us. And I'm not in the way of standing alone, not anymore."

"Don't get all soft on me."

Vin shook his head in mock disgust. "I ain't soft on you and I ain't soft in the head." He playfully slapped Chris's hat off his head. Chris bent down and picked up the hat, smoothed his hair back, and grinned at Vin.

"You're soft all right. But I ain't saying that's bad." He reached over and touched the ends of Vin's long hair, felt the texture as he moved a lock back and forth in his fingertips. Vin stood still and let him, enjoying it. "You pull that cinch any tighter, you're going to kill that horse."

Vin looked at him helplessly and stood away from the horse. "I knew putting down that broom and hitching up with you would be the worst mistake of my life. This will end up killing me sure as hell."

"Anyone tries to do that, they have to go through me first."

"It ain't someone else that's going to kill me."

Chris grinned wickedly at him. "Besides, aren't you always the one telling me not to get so riled up about things I can't change?"

"Maybe this time it just feels different."

"Maybe this time you just feel like you got a bigger stake in it personally."

Vin only stared at the sky, watching a sparrow hawk circle lazily overhead.

"You more riled about a range war, or something else?" Chris asked.

Vin sighed and ran his hand over the horse's nose. "Lot of folks will notice something's different. Even if it ends when we go back, some of them..."

Chris studied him for awhile, his smile now soft and amused. "Ain't no one's business."

"That never stopped 'em before."

"You worried about anyone in particular?"

"You always loved the ladies, Chris, and the ladies love you. Think Buck's not gonna notice that?"

"Buck will see what he wants to see." Chris swung up into the saddle. He watched Vin saddle up, looking curiously at him. "You more worried about the rest of them figuring something out, or about not having something for them to figure out when we get back?" So Chris had realized he was worried about all this ending. But Chris was still not admitting what *he* wanted when they returned, Vin noticed.

He reined around and came up next to Chris, laughing quietly. "You having fun with this? You're asking me more questions than I get on a visit to Nettie." He thought for a moment. "Folks like to talk. Could have a lot to talk about, and maybe that ain't so good."

"Aw, folks will have plenty to talk about for a long time, what with everything that's happened and the cavalry coming. Don't expect they'll be needing something else for awhile, but if they want to talk, I don't care." He looked directly at Vin. "Do you really care what they talk about?"

Vin contemplated this question for a long time. "Guess I care about what you care about."

His partner laughed and twitched the reins. "We get going now, the faster we can get to a bottle of whiskey."

When they reached Four Corners, Chris caught Vin's eye and nodded. "Whiskey and a bath. In that order. Then food."

"I was thinking the same thing. But I guess I better get over to Nathan's first, have him look at this shoulder."

Chris sighed with longing. "Let's find out about JD first, then we'll deal with Pearl. *Then* we'll get some whiskey."

They took the horses to the livery and were walking up the stairs to Nathan's when they heard Buck's excited voice. "Well, hallelujah, the travelers have returned."

Vin was surprised to see Buck in such good spirits. Buck must have caught their quizzical looks, because he slapped them both on the arms -- Vin flinched -- and said, "He's alive. He's still alive, and he's coming through it. It's gonna be a long time, but he'll be okay."

Chris's face seemed to break, his shoulders pulling down as if caving in on himself. Vin thought that must be what he himself looked like. Both of them peered around the doorway until Buck turned and said, "Y'all look like a couple of prairie dogs. Get in here!"

They pushed inside to find JD sitting up in the bed, miserable and disheveled, his face wan and hollow, but he was definitely alive. His eyes lit up, though, when he saw them both. "You're okay! You're both okay!"

"We are at that," Chris said softly, and smiled at JD and Nathan. "You need to stop scaring us like this, JD." He said to Nathan, "Vin here got a little taste of the same medicine a few days back. Can you take a look at him?"

Nathan nodded and pulled off Vin's coat and shirt. Chris looked at him, then turned to Buck. "Got a lot of questions. You need to fill me in."

"Not as bad as it was when you left," Buck said as they went out the door. "Calm before the storm."

Vin let Nathan fuss over him, but by now the wound was healing and he thought the whole thing was unnecessary. He watched Chris leave with his oldest friend and sighed.

Chris knocked on Mary Travis's door, then took his hat off and smoothed his hair while he waited for her answer. He hadn't wanted to come by until he'd gone to the bathhouse and cleaned up, or before he'd had at least one glass of whiskey and a meal.

Buck had filled him in on the details of what had happened in their absence. At least Buck had seemed more accepting of Chris's rescue mission, which relieved him, but if the situation had not improved in his absence, he was pretty sure Buck wouldn't have been in such a good mood about his return. Certainly JD's unexpected improvement had helped as well.

His relief had come as a surprise to him; he had not realized how much he'd grown to care for the kid. It was typical of how much he'd grown to care for the bunch of them, even Ezra, whose moral code Chris couldn't even begin to understand.

Mary answered the door smiling, surprise and delight on her face. "You're back! I heard both you and Vin had returned. I'm so happy. Come in." She opened the door and Chris followed her inside. She sat him down at the table and poured coffee for him, as if she'd been expecting him all this time. "The judge isn't here, I'm afraid. He's gone to Eagle Bend but should be back tomorrow."

"I'll have to talk with him as soon as he returns. Buck told me they tried to spring Pearl. Things could get uglier."

"With the detachment ready to push Bishop's brother and his gang back, the judge is hoping to spend his time on Pearl and his men. They've been quiet in the meantime."

Chris shook his head. "We did a poor job. It should never have come to that."

She poured herself some coffee and sat across the table from him. "You did exactly what the people of this town asked you to do."

For a few moments he played with the coffee cup, then looked up at her. "Someday they're going to realize that we're nothing. Most of us are only a step away from being outlaws. They'll want something safer, better. What we're doing here... I think we're fooling ourselves."

She thought for some time before answering. "I've watched this town grow and change. People are coming here every month, more and more people, building homes and businesses. What happened with Mr. Pearl and Mr. Bishop was the worst of the growing pains, I admit, but no one blames you, any of you. We're thankful you're here."

"An awful lot of people are dead. JD nearly died, Vin would have too if I hadn't gone after him. Maybe it's time to end it before things get any worse."

Mary looked down at the table. She put her hand over Chris's. "You know, I'm not the only one who values you. My father-in-law does. Billy does more than you could know. Chris, you've helped so many people."

Chris looked into her eyes, so earnest and alive. He wanted to believe that, but lately it was hard to see the value in what they were doing, when so many lives were at stake. And mistakes, when taking care of lives, were fatal.

"Chris," she said softly. "Belonging in one place, making a life. Well... I know you were angry when I found out about your family. But I think I understand something of how you feel. Making a new life here doesn't mean you're dishonoring what you felt for your family. I feel they would want you to find one place. To let yourself live again."

He took her hand off his, and then wrapped both his hands around hers. He was no longer angry about that part of his life being exposed to her; too much had passed between them for him to feel that way anymore. "You're a little too smart for your own good, you know that?" He was both amused and mortified that she'd seen through what he was saying, but if anyone could know this, it had to be someone who'd been through the same thing.

There had been times when Chris had wished to draw Billy and Mary to him, almost as if they could replace his lost family. He was aware that Mary looked at him that way, too -- that without her husband she would feel less than whole, as he felt without his wife. Chris cared very much for Billy, but he knew, and believed Mary knew, too, that they could never replace through each other what they'd lost. For that, he valued her friendship even more and took her wisdom to heart.

She smiled gently. "You have friends here, Chris. That's not so terrible. Not if you don't let it be."

After finishing his coffee and a little more discussion with Mary, he left her house and walked down the street, bathed in late afternoon sun. He walked around behind the general store to get to the livery, and from the window he could hear Mrs. Neilsen tutoring her daughter on their piano, the same short melody played over and over. The little girl laughed at her own mistakes. In another window he could see a fire being lit, a kettle being placed atop a stove. All this had become familiar to him, he realized.

*One place.* Before he'd settled in with Sarah, he'd moved around so much. Afterwards he couldn't bear to be anywhere long enough to feel attached. But Four Corners had been home to him for a long time now.

He stayed near the Neilsen's window and lit a cheroot, listening to the sounds of a family living their lives. He could never have that again. He knew that. No one could ever measure up to Sarah and Adam, no matter how much he might want them to. But he could have affection, someone to care for. Maybe that's why it had happened, and why it was Vin -- maybe he could only go in the opposite direction of what he'd known before.

Buck had been right, it had been about being needed. Only there was more to it: he wanted to need someone too. The notion of it hit him like a cold wet slap of well water. Vin needed him, and he needed Vin. Even in the hours they spent away from each other, he felt something was missing in his life. Maybe that wasn't the best definition of love, but it was more than he'd felt for years.

It was the same thing Josiah had been telling him, what Mary had said, only with differing words. Josiah was right. He and Vin had changed each other. All that restlessness in both of them had stopped when friendship grew. Like gentling a horse -- they'd calmed in each other that need to move, soothed the tendency to balk at restraint. The first time Vin had called him friend, Chris had felt a warmth in his soul he'd not known for a very long time. Felt like he belonged.

But what if Vin didn't want that? The idea of Vin finding one place was almost impossible to imagine. He'd stayed here longer than anyone had expected him to, and Chris couldn't hope for anything more than that, especially not if he was the one asking Vin to do it. Was it loving to ask someone to do the one thing they couldn't? As they'd come back to Four Corners, he'd felt Vin grow more distant, crawl deeper inside himself than ever. He hadn't stopped having nightmares; no comfort from Chris could stave them off. And that anxiety wouldn't change as long as he stayed here, a place where everyone knew his burden.

One place. Ezra and Nathan had found their places here. Buck and JD too, despite their own restlessness. Josiah most of all, in his spiritual place. Josiah had told Chris that he'd changed, had said that Vin had changed him. But was he changed enough to belong somewhere, to someone? Vin had said he cared about what Chris cared about. If he asked Vin to stay, would that be fair?

Eventually he finished the cigar and walked to Nathan's. He passed William and Dorothy Evans on their way back from the hardware store, and he tipped his hat to them as they said their hellos. They hadn't even been in town more than a few weeks before the trouble started, but already they felt like neighbors. Like they belonged, and they assumed he belonged here, too. Maybe he did.

When he got into Nathan's room, Vin, Josiah, and Ezra were drinking whiskey, laughing with Nathan. JD was lying back on the bed, watching them, his face pale but smiling. Nathan had insisted on Vin putting his arm in a sling.

Vin waved a piece of paper towards Chris. "Lookee here. See what Ezra found for me."

"It's Vin's homecoming present," Ezra said.

Chris glanced at it -- a wanted poster for McMahon. For murder.

"Apparently our bounty hunting friend had his own price apportioned by some sleepy backwater town right here in Arizona. As, we have found, were many of the men Pearl hired so afflicted," Ezra said, giving Chris more posters.

Vin smiled at Chris. "Must have asked McMahon a dozen times why he didn't just hog-tie me and throw me on the stage instead of taking the long way back without even so much as a wagon for the trip. Asked him why he'd want to wait so long to get his money."

Chris couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Good thing for you he was trying to avoid the attention before he got out of the territory. Might not have caught up with you then."

He stayed for awhile as Ezra told them a rather comical variation on what had happened in their absence, embellishing wildly. Chris didn't know for whose amusement that was, but it warmed the room. Once in a while he would look over at Vin, see the regretful way he'd catch Chris's eye, and think that there was no one place for a wayfarer like Vin. Even affection might not be enough to keep him. By and by Chris got up and took his hat and coat.

"I'm heading out to my place," he said, looking mostly at Vin. "Haven't seen it in a while, need to make sure everything's still there."

Vin nodded at him. He seemed to make no effort to get up, so Chris took that as a sign that Vin was withdrawing from the new situation. He was practical, he'd not expected Vin to come with him. There was simply too much to consider for such a thing to happen, and even though he might be willing to risk so much, it wasn't for Chris to assume what was right for Vin.

He listened to the warm sound of their voices as he slid into the saddle and rode away.

Vin stood on the stairs and watched Chris ride away, melting into the darkness beyond the end of the street.

It had been nice to sit with him and the others, quiet and relaxed. Vin's tension at returning, at wondering if everyone would see through them, had evaporated in the warmth of friendship. But Chris also seemed to have something else on his mind. He wasn't distant, precisely, just preoccupied.

There was only one way to know if the preoccupation was because of what they'd had on the trail, or if it was from trying to forget about it. He could no longer assume anything or rely on his own understanding of how the world worked. Vin didn't know exactly what love was, but he was beginning to see that this was the shape and form of it. And he knew enough to realize that any true affection for someone meant having enough respect for them to ask what they wanted. He had not done that with Charlotte, had instead run blindly forward without stopping to find out what her needs were, or discern his own. Vin went back to his own room above the saloon and slipped into the bed, his first night alone in days.

The next day he spent with the others tying up loose ends. The effects of the events of the past few weeks would not be easily overcome, but things were at least a little more well in hand. A visit to Nettie Wells was the second order of business, as he heard she'd asked after him. She was another person who tied him here, he realized. He'd been welcomed back by so many people throughout the day that he didn't know how to react. It was home, now, in a way. People cared about him here, appeared to want him. It was a curious notion. But if Chris and he had to go back to the way they were before, he couldn't see staying here, no matter how much he felt at home. That was too powerful for him, more powerful than anything else that bound him to this place.

Towards the end of the day he rode out to Chris's, looking at each building as he went through town. So many new storefronts and homes. The town was spreading out farther and farther, more business being done. Soon, maybe, they wouldn't have to depend on men like Pearl to create work, and it wouldn't matter that this desert country wasn't for farming. The railroad would bring livelihoods, other commerce. In some ways it made Vin regretful, the same sadness over the loss of a way of life that he'd felt when the buffalo had become scarcer and scarcer. But in other ways it was heartening to see lives being built out of nothing.

If this was where he was welcome, it would be the first place he'd ever considered staying in. He would have to see how Chris felt, but carefully, because he didn't want him to feel responsible for anything. Chris had to make his own decisions, for his own reasons. Vin was experienced at moving on and would not have bitter feelings over it.

It was dusk when he reached Chris's place. He rode up and put his horse in the corral, removed the tack, and put it up for the night as though he would stay. When he finished and turned back Chris was standing in the door, drying his face after washing up.

He went back inside and Vin followed him in. Chris poured some whiskey for him as though he'd been expecting company. Then he lit the lamp and sat across from Vin, silent, the tiny room filling with its light.

"I wasn't sure if I should come," Vin said, after downing the liquor.

"I wasn't sure if you were going to come," Chris answered. "I was starting to think you wouldn't."

"Hard to tell what you wanted."

His smile was so subtle Vin almost couldn't tell if that's what it was. But then it hit him in his gut, the realization of what Chris was telling him with that smile.

By and by Chris stood and stripped off all his clothes. Vin had never seen him completely without clothing, and he took in the sight of Chris's long legs, his strong arms, the flat of his stomach, the lock of blond hair that fell in front of his eyes.

So Vin followed suit and took off his own clothes. When he turned around he saw Chris on the bunk, one arm drawn up behind his head, a dangerous smile on his face as he watched Vin disrobe.

Vin sat on the edge of the bunk looking at Chris's naked body in the soft amber glow of lamplight. His fingertips hovered above Chris's skin, barely touching him, as he moved them in exploration -- first the shoulder, then the chest, a thigh, to an ankle. Chris lay silently before him, his eyes never leaving Vin's face. Vin roamed, his hands now restlessly traveling, seeking to know a place of worship on Chris's body.

Trailing the touch, Vin leaned down to kiss that pale hip, the shoulder. He spread his fingers across the flat of Chris's stomach, then bent to kiss him above his heart. The taste of Chris lingered in his mouth through the warmth of the whiskey.

Chris placed his hand above Vin's, twining their fingers together. Vin was pleased that Chris was so receiving of this attention, so open and tender. Chris drew his knees up casually and Vin knelt between his legs, wrapped his hands around Chris's thighs and slid him gently forward so they were nestled together, thigh to thigh. He rose up and over Chris, draping his body atop his partner's and burying his face in his neck.

So this was love, he thought, this was its true shape. Open, forgiving, a warm embrace inside his soul, the kiss of two bodies together. Knowing with unwavering certainty that he was wanted.

Chris's fingers moved through his hair, and his hips rocked ever so slightly against Vin's. "It's all right," he whispered next to Vin's temple, an echo of his own words to Chris so recently. "It's all right to belong somewhere."

Vin was found with those words, his nomad soul now permanently rooted in one place, his pilgrim heart fulfilled.

End

12/20/00

For Tina, Christy, and Susan "Tape Goddess" H., and for Jo -- the best Wild West expert and cowgirl buddy a fan writer could have.

My beautiful cover by the exquisite X. Please do not take this art to use in any other manner (this means no icons, no manipulations, no nothing). Don't make me come after you.

Email to: gwyneth@drizzle.com

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