Chris didn't look over at Josiah. He was too focused on Vin and the trail ahead. But, he could sense the simmering anger in the big man at his side. Josiah didn't not take kindly to anyone hurting any of theirs, and both Buck and Ezra were in trouble. Chris had shut down his own anger. He couldn't afford to indulge in it, not when it might cloud his mind when Ezra needed him to be sharp. Ezra and Buck. Chris' lips tightened. God, he had it bad when he couldn't think past Ezra's green eyes, eyes he hadn't even been able to look into when he was with the man last. Thrusting his jaw out in determination, he decided that first he'd kill the bastards who took his men, then he'd tell that crazy southerner that he wasn't sending Chris away. Not ever again. Wasn't going to happen. He'd be real firm on that.

Josiah mused at the trees they passed, contemplated the sky's slight dimming as the sun lowered, caught the flight of a hawk up high among some passing clouds, small and few. Anything to try to find his center again. Not one of his spiritual rituals was working. I'm too damn pissed off. He grinned fiercely, large teeth exposed in a feral grimace. When I get my hands on those men who did this, they shall know redemption will NOT be at hand. Not any time soon, anyway. He couldn't suppress a growl. Larabee didn't seem to notice.

JD fidgeted with his twin Colts. First he'd take out one, check the action, make sure the cylinder was tight. Then he'd re-holster it, take out the other. Lift it to aim along the barrel at some unsuspecting tree. Pretend to kill it. Ker-pow. He sighed and slid the second pistol back in its holster and glanced over at Nathan who rode beside him.

Jackson was mentally reciting what he'd packed in his saddlebags. If Buck were alive, he might be wounded or beat up. Ezra would probably have a concussion from what Vin had said. Might need stitches. There'd been some blood. He ignored JD's playing around, boy was worried, tense. Hell, so was he.

Tanner drew to a halt at the fork for Parson's Gulch. Plenty of traffic heading that way, but none too recent, and the stage wheel tracks were partly covered by the nailed hoof, going down the stage route on the other branch. He pushed his slouch hat back and looked ahead at the low, rolling prairie dry lands ahead. A few stands of trees out that way, some dips in the land, but nothing special until the ten-mile station, where stages changed teams. Andy Crocker and his wife ran the station. Only folks out there. Vin nodded as Chris Larabee drew rein beside him on one side, Josiah Sanchez on the other. Sanchez's big shape was slouched forward as usual, comfortably low in his saddle, a big old poncho-coat hiding much of his size. His sorrel shifted closer to Peso and nickered.

Chris looked out over the road's bending, disappearing and reappearing stripe on the empty landscape. No one was in sight. "Can't be too far out there, can they?"

Vin pulled out his spyglass from one saddlebag pouch. Looked long and hard ahead. When he lowered it, he met Chris' eyes calmly. Can see the disturbance inside you, Vin thought. Ain't the best way to face danger. He kept his thoughts to himself. "Figure Buck came this way. Probably decided to keep going when he saw them heading toward Ten-Mile."

Josiah sighed. "Andy and his missus are out there alone most times."

By now, JD and Nathan had pulled up at the edges of the group. "You think Ezra was taken to meet them others?" JD moved in his saddle, unable to keep all his worry inside.

Vin looked around the circle of faces. "Likely Buck got took. Likely someone knew enough to go back and snatch Ez."

"Likely the Garson brothers." Nathan spoke softly, shaking his head with regret. They should have jailed those two boys, days ago. Could have called it vagrancy.

"You think that Boll and Lemuel know these outlaws?" JD looked shaken. Was it all some plot? Had they missed something? He began to rethink the last week with new, suspicious eyes.

Larabee thought back to earlier in the day. Thought back to the saloon. Ezra. He'd led Ezra into the saloon, back toward the stairs to the southerner's room. Part way, Ezra'd baulked. They'd gone near nose-to-nose there, in the center of the room. At the time, he hadn't given a goddamn who saw them. He tried to remember what was said, done. Just remembered getting real close to Ezra. Shit. Then when he'd come down the stairs, after seeing to Ezra, and being kicked out, he thought of that with momentary irritation, afterwards, Vin had gotten the drop on the Garsons down there in the saloon. Had sent them out, on their way. They'd been ready to draw down on me as I came down those stairs. What did they see earlier? Enough to decide to come back and take Ezra? Yes, Chris decided with a dark, cold feeling of emptiness in his stomach. Likely they had.

Yarrow shifted his stare from Wilmington's bleak eyes to the crumpled man up against Wilmington's side. Probably be easier to handle that one, if they had to take one with them, when they headed back into that town tonight. They'd go in late, he decided, as his eyes studied the limp figure. Rouse this one and take him along as a hostage, in case they were found out. This time, they wouldn't go in shooting. They'd ride in quiet, hit the bank, hotel, maybe the dry goods store. Anyone getting in their way would be dead.

He looked back over at Wilmington. He might be worth keeping just as a hostage for Standish's behavior. Rubbing at his stubbled jaw, Marcus Yarrow decided he had a plan that could work. Now that he had those two Garsons as extra riders, he had enough men to do it. He cast a look over his shoulder at his men sprawled around the campfire. Don't really trust those two. Too loud and not really ever been on the outlaw trail, before their daddy got his at Larabee's gun. He'd heard the whole story. Hard not to, that Boll was a real talker. Don't pay to have a gossip ride the trails with you, not when you ride on the wild side. That settled it, after they finished here, he'd have a word with O'Rourke, then Boll and Lemuel would be pushing up daisies out on the next knoll.

Marcus hadn't realized that he'd been staring at Buck Wilmington the whole time, but now, decision made, his sight sharpened and he realized that Wilmington was watching him hard. Still uncomfortable under the man's intent scrutiny, Yarrow looked back over at Standish. This one was starting to stir now, twitching and making tiny jerks. Boll had tied him up with his hands behind him so he could haul him back belly down on his horse. Man was struggling against the bindings now. Yarrow took a step closer.

Buck watched the tall thin outlaw. This one's the leader. He'd seen the impatience in the man when Boll Garson started bragging over by the fire. This one had been pretty mild so far, just kicked my foot enough to let me know he saw I was awake. Just standing here staring. Don't even seem to see us now. Buck felt a tremor come from Ezra, then another. Small movements. Pard, now would not be a good time to come to. He stilled himself and waited, trying to out-stare the outlaw looking at him blankly. Then the man seemed to come out of his thoughts and looked away from Buck, over at Ezra, who was definitely showing signs of life.

Yarrow took a second step toward the gambler, then stopped in surprise as two long arms dropped down over the man's head to encircle him. Wilmington had twisted and put his own bound hands over the top of Standish's head and now held him, actually dragging the man closer, protective-like. Marcus considered this. So, they are friends. He nodded and smiled slowly at the now glaring Wilmington and turned away. Got plenty of time 'til we need to ride. He went over to the coffee pot and poured himself a new cup, looking back at their prisoners, from over by the campfire.

The other men quieted as Yarrow returned, Lemuel following his line of sight back to where Wilmington and Standish were tied up. Garson chuckled mirthlessly as he realized that Buck Wilmington had pulled Standish into his arms and was holding him close as any lover. Little slut likely gave out to the whole crew. Lemuel shifted and sat back on his buttocks, to give himself room to harden as his trouser front loosed a bit. Oh yeah. He licked his lips.

Cocky little shit, all those times Lemuel and Boll followed their father Frank into town, to have a little fun on Friday nights, there he'd be. That gambling man, sitting up there at the poker table, taking everyone's money. Always had at least one of the other's at his back or nearby. Lemuel remembered a shoot out one time, some trail hand accused the gambler of sleeving a card. Man had ended up looking down the bore of a sleeve gun instead, and that Larabee fellow'd been right behind Standish suddenly, his big gun just over the gambler's shoulder, pointing at that poor trail hand. Man near shit himself just climbing out of his seat, then run out the front of the saloon. They didn't see him again. Thinking of the gambler, Lemuel suddenly had a new thought. Gamblers always had money, lots of money. This one might even have some on him. He raised his head to study the prisoners more closely, ignoring something Boll was saying nearby.

In his boot. He'd actually seen the man slip some folds of money down there one night. Lemuel rose to his feet, focused on the weakly flailing man being held by Wilmington. In his boot.

Buck held on as Ezra began to thrash. "Pard, it's me, it's Buck," he whispered into Ezra's ear, holding him as well as he could in the circle of his own bound arms. Good thing they tied my hands in front of me, he thought. Standish stopped fighting and looked blindly up, eyes still covered by Nathan's now dirty bandage.

"Buck?" It came out hoarse and strained.

"Yeah, Ez, it's me." He leaned in enough to touch his aching head to Ezra's, hoping the additional contact would help.

Ezra was confused. "Why am I tied again? Is Nathan getting ready to treat my wounds?"

Buck winced at the resigned, unhappy tone of Standish's voice. That had been a mistake, he decided. Shouldn't ever have let Nate tie Ezra up, not even for the best of reasons. We could have held him down. He started to shake his head, then realized that Ezra wouldn't see that. "Nope, Pard. We got us in a mite bit of trouble here. Not sure exactly what happened. One minute, I'm on the trail of those last four high-tailing outlaws, out near Ten-Mile. Next thing I know, I wake up here." He paused to look around. "Ain't too sure where 'here' is, there's trees but they're mighty thin, looks like we're just off the trail near where I was when I must have got bushwhacked." He gently hugged his companion. "You was here beside me when I woke up."

Ezra had listened silently, his feeling of wooziness making it difficult to concentrate. He fought off a sense of unease in the stomach region. I must have a concussion. With the thought, came return of his own memories. The attack in his room. "I think I was also caught unawares. The last thing I remember is sitting in my rocking chair, then at least two men grabbing at me." He dropped his head onto Wilmington's chest, too tired and hurting too much to try to maintain any proprieties. "That's all."

Buck looked solemnly out at the campsite. They were in trouble here, but not likely to be alone for long. He'd been gone for a long spell now, too long for a regular patrol. And, sooner or later, someone would be going up to check on Ezra and find him gone. Someone? Who was he fooling? Chris would be up there. Yep, the boys might already be on the way. Oh, Chris was going to be in one helluva nasty temper, that's for sure. Knowing how his old friend felt now about Ezra, Buck actually shivered. Hell, Chris was likely to be the devil himself. These boys really don't know what they've gone and done. They are dead men.

He opened his mouth to tell Ezra this, then shut it again. Lemuel Garson had stood up over by the fire and was heading their way. Buck had never liked the hulking Garson boys or their mean-spirited father Frank. Lemuel was the quieter, older, meaner of the two boys. Boll was the blowhard. Both had now stepped over the line. He could expect only trouble from them. "Ezra," he whispered, head dropping so Lemuel wouldn't see that he was talking to Standish, "Lemuel Garson is heading over here, them boys have joined up with the outlaws. Let me do the talking."

Ezra nodded against Buck's bib-shirt front. He was really not feeling very well at all. Waves of hot and cold were flowing over him, his stomach felt full of uncertain acid, building bile back up his throat. His body ached, arms numb from the restriction of the ropes, wrists burning. His head was one big throb and Buck's last words seemed to echo down a long tunnel before reaching him. He'd just rest here with Buck and let his friend handle things.

Lemuel grinned as he got closer to their prisoners. That little slut was all snuggled up tight against old Wilmington. Looked like he figured right. He drew his old revolver, the long barrel making it a slow draw but a deadly shot. His smile deepened and he came right up next to the men before squatting down at the gambler's side. He grinned into Wilmington's dark eyes and put the round end of the barrel of his gun right in the gambler's ear. He nearly laughed when Standish tried to shake his head to rid himself of the unseen irritant. Lemuel pressed the barrel hard enough to see Standish wince.

"Leave him be." Lemuel spared a glance up at Wilmington's face. Almost backed away at the promise of death he could read in those dark, menacing eyes. He had to remind himself that he had Boll and them others at his back, and that the big man in front of him was tied up and all tangled up with the gambler's body. He smirked into those deadly eyes and pulled back the firing pin on his revolver. The click froze both men in front of him.

"You just sit there, Wilmington, and cuddle your honey," Lemuel spat to the side, not quite missing the big man's pant leg. He looked back at the man. "I ain't interested," he paused to lick his lips again, "right now." He let Wilmington see the lewd light in his eyes, then said, "You and Larabee and the rest of you can keep him. All I want is the little shit's money." With his free hand he patted down Standish's leg to feel the boot under the trousers. Hell, gonna have to take them off, he realized.

Yarrow was standing again, as was Boll. Both watched Lemuel draw on their hostages and say something that had Wilmington rigid and Standish pulled tight back against him. What the hell? Yarrow stomped back over toward the tableau of three men, just as the older Garson rocked on his heels and crab walked a few steps back from the men, gun still at the ready but no longer in Standish's ear.

"Garson?" Marcus didn't want to have to rescue his hostages but dammit all, this was plain ridiculous.

Lemuel looked back at the head outlaw. He poked his gun back in his belt and grabbed Standish's booted foot. With a tremendous yank, he pulled off the boot, nearly pulling the smaller man out of Wilmington's arms in the process.

"What the hell are you doing?" Buck yelled furiously, hitching his joined fists, under Ezra's ribcage and hauling upwards to drag his friend back into his arms, the only safety he could give Ezra.

Ezra gasped in accumulated pain, the new rough treatment simply pushing up it all up a notch. He felt Buck's arms tight around him. Not being able to see was causing him to stiffen, not certain where the next attack upon his person would come from.

Buck snarled and tried to turn his wide shoulders enough to create a screen of protection for Ezra.

Lemuel peered into the empty boot, then looked back consideringly at Standish. By now, Yarrow had come to a stop beside him but just stood there. Must have figured out what I'm doing. Lemuel realized he'd probably have to share. For now. With a massive shrug, he caught hold of Standish's other boot at the ankle and gave another mighty wrench. Standish gave a short cry, then moaned softly and Wilmington cursed again.

Sitting back now on the ground, Lemuel crowed. In one meaty fist, he held up what had to be several hundred dollars in cash.

Buck glared at the men now all circling around Lemuel, none even looking at him or Ezra. Standish was trying to bite back little noises of pain. Blasted snake had likely hurt Ezra pulling off that second boot, Buck had seen the way he'd grabbed it at the ankle and twisted as he yanked. "Easy, Ez." He tucked his chin down on top of his friend's head where the man was trying to bury his face in Buck's shirt front, and smother his noises down there. Buck hugged his friend. Oh, yeah, these were dead men. If Chris don't get them first, then they're mine.

Vin pulled up just below a small hill, little more than a high rise in the stage road. He looked back at the others and waved them off their horses. His friends all led their mounts up to join him.

"What's going on, Vin?" Chris was getting impatient. Ezra and Buck had to have been in those outlaws' hands for hours now. Too many hours. He tried hard to keep himself in the present when all he could do was imagine what might be happening. What might already have happened. His gut twisted and his gloved hands tightened into fists around the leather reins he held.

Tanner waited until he was certain everyone could hear. Chris was working hard at keeping his tension in, but Vin could see the lines of strain around his friend's mouth and eyes. Chris is hurting mighty bad. Josiah was shoulder to shoulder with Chris, his horsy face placid, if one didn't look into murderous pale blue eyes. Nathan looked the most relaxed of the bunch, but he was standing on the balls of his feet, balanced there, like he balanced one of those throwing knives that Tanner knew the healer had strapped on his back right now. JD was looking around sharply as if to see hidden robbers right there, energy coming off him in waves.

Vin took off his hat and swept a hand through his long hair, brushing it back from his face. "They're just up ahead, in that clump of trees off to the left of the trail. I can see the smoke, they must have set up camp."

Everyone turned as one, but before any of them could take more than a step, Tanner continued, holding up a hand. "They'll spot us."

Chris dropped to a crouch, the others following. "Okay, Vin. Tell us."

Josiah Sanchez stretched and pulled at the muscles in his powerful arms, thinking about the men holding two of his friends hostage now. He sat down on the ground by the hunkering men at his side, too old to want to strain his legs that way any more. He slid a glance over at Chris Larabee. Man's oldest friend and his - Josiah cocked his head to the side - his lover? Were in trouble, probably hurting. He studied Larabee's whipcord thin body, outlined tightly in black trousers and dark gray shirt, saddle cut jacket hanging open, those silver studs in his gun rig shining in the late afternoon light. Josiah took a deep breath. He knew how determined and hardheaded the blond could be, loyal too, he'd die rather than let one of us get hurt. Josiah's pale eyes moved on around the group's tense faces, all others' eyes focused on Vin Tanner.

Sanchez knew they'd take those boys out, only a question of details. He'd leave that to Larabee, Tanner, and the others. Just lead me to them, Lord. He pulled his large, gleaming pistol from his holster and toyed with it, breaking it open to look down the bore, checking the seating on the cartridges. His large blunt fingers caressed the sleek metal, the gun oil greasing his fingertips ever so lightly. His heart had hardened to the deeds they'd soon do. He felt a blood lust rising and did nothing to quell it. It was as good a day as any to die.

Vin scraped over the dry sandy earth to make a clear space on the ground in front of him. With a small dry stick that he broke off a scraggling Juniper tree, he began to mark the ground. "Know this ground," he said dryly. "They picked a good spot, got a spring there, some natural cover in those trees, and some height."

"No way to sneak up, huh?" JD crouched close, studying the ground intently, balanced on his booted toes, hands locked on the butts of his twin revolvers.

Before Vin could answer, Nathan rose part way to his feet and sunk back down to eye the rest seriously. "I kin see some kind of ditch or gully over there."

"Yeah." Tanner nodded, scratching it into the dirt in a wide curve passing the spot he'd marked as the outlaw camp. "Comes real close too." He looked up into Chris Larabee's eyes. "Couple of us could get near inside that camp that way."

Chris nodded, knowing that there was more. He pulled a partly smoked cheroot from his inside jacket pocket and bit it between his teeth without lighting it. If I don't shoot someone soon, you might as well shoot me. He ground the twist of tobacco between his teeth at the side of his mouth and sifted his weight from leg to leg, feeling the pull on his hamstrings. Getting too old for this, Josiah's got the right idea, he thought as he watched Sanchez hunch forward where he sat full on the ground. Chris stared bleakly at Vin, and waited for him to continue.

"Figure I can slide in on my belly over here," Vin indicated the backside of the camp, facing away from the stage road that passed by so close to the trees. "And, one of us could circle round and come right on down the road from Ten Mile." He marked the trail. "There's a bend just ahead, drops down into a small valley before it straightens out to run into the station. Even on horseback, won't no one see anything from that way until the riders are right there at the top of the trail."

"I'm going in straight." Chris gritted out. He wasn't looking around at the others, just stating a fact. It was who he was. And what. It was no pride that informed his judgment. He was simply the best gunman amongst them for a face-off, close to the target. He'd be the decoy too. "JD, you and Nate go up the gully. Josiah? You willing to ride in from the east?" That would make Sanchez a big target.

Josiah's grin made JD's skin crawl. Sometimes he lost track of just how dangerous his older companions were. Shit, I'm glad I'll be with Nathan. He glanced over at the healer, only to see a huge, gleaming throwing knife in the man's hands. Nate was examining the blade with one dark thumb running down the edge, not looking up at all. JD swallowed.

"And ya got me to cover yore back from the ground." Vin finished for Chris, dropping the small stick on to the dry ground, then rising and scuffing out the simple marks.

"Josiah, you have the farthest to go." Larabee stood up and faced Sanchez. "Get started. We'll give you thirty minutes, less if something happens." He pulled out a pocket watch and fixed the time in his mind.

Sanchez did the same, nodding briefly and then raising a hand to the gathering. "Our boys will be safe with us again within the hour. Let the spirits be one with you, brothers." He snapped shut his pistol and dropped it into his hip holster, adding as he turned toward his horse, "I'm feeling ready for a wrestle with the devil." He heaved himself into the saddle and grinned down at the others. "And He shall lead us, and we shall triumph." He raised a hand to his hat brim, then reined his heavy dark sorrel away and down toward a fold in the land where he could double back onto the road ahead.

The rest were all standing as well, JD looking after Josiah's retreating form for a moment, until Nathan's big hand came down on his shoulder. "Ready, JD?"

Dunne spun around and nodded jerkily, trying to hide his startlement. "Yeah, I'm good." He reached up with one hand to tug his bowler tight down over his dark bangs, then wiped his hand past the long hair to tuck it behind his ears. His heart was beating awfully fast. We're coming Buck. He hesitated in shame and ducked his head. We're coming Buck, Ez. Two friends were in trouble, not just one. With determination, he turned away. Catching up the reins of his ground tied pony, he followed Nathan's leggy mount as they led their horses further off the trail. He pulled out his pocket watch. Though nothing had been said, he knew that he and Nathan were expected to be in position and ready within the next few minutes.

Chris watched his youngest man follow Nathan Jackson off. JD was good in a fight, if a bit trigger-happy at times. Right now, with Buck in danger, JD was unpredictable. That was why he'd sent the boy with Nathan. Jackson was steady. And, Jackson was deadly with those knives of his when he was in range. Coming up into the trees from that gully, he'd be in range. Chris' thinned lips pulled into a hungry smile.

Vin had taken over Chris' horse as well as his own Peso, and was leading both blacks off into some brush. Hidden there, they'd be available if he or Chris needed to chase after anyone when this was over. He pulled his long rifle from his saddle rig, then set his hat down low over his brow. He hadn't had to belly-crawl up on anything in a while. He walked back over to where Larabee stood, solitary, staring at the ground, one hand up on a cheroot stub still unlit, the other fondling the butt of his holstered pistol.

"You ready?" Vin wondered if there would be anyone left alive in that camp in an hour. He'd seen the anger in the others, even in Nathan and JD. Sanchez and Larabee, though, they were bombs waiting to explode. He rubbed at his neck. He'd never been partial to killing, but had learned to do it long ago. Right now, Buck and Ezra were likely in a bad way. He'd kill. No problem at all.

Chris looked up and met Tanner's sky blue eyes. Damn, the man's really only a big kid, he thought with regret. Those innocent looking eyes have seen a tough life, though. He read the man in front of him, saw the commitment there. "Yeah." He pulled out his watch again. Still a few minutes. He looked up at the sky, it was deepening now, beginning to go lavender and pinky-orange over to the west. The sun's yellow was deepening to gold and it hovered over the horizon now. They had to act soon or tricky twilight would make straight shooting doubtful.

"I'll let Buck and Ez know we're coming in." Vin spoke matter of factly, untying the leather over his mare's leg one-handed, his other still holding his rifle. He briefly patted at the hilt of his big skinning knife, not balanced for throwing like Nate's but real handy up close. He scooted over to the scree of low but steep hillside, the small rocks and loose shale were going to make this crawl an awkward one. He melted down to the ground and let his body relax against the earth. He heard Chris shuffle his boots against the dirt of the trail. He felt the ache of ribs still hurting and the soreness of his healing wound. He set those sensations aside too, like the sounds at his back. Stoic, Vin set his mind to the task in front of him and moved forward by pushing with boot tips, kneecaps and rough palms.

Damn man must be part Injun, Chris thought with admiration, as he watched Vin Tanner flow over the ground. Chris kept watch until Tanner moved over the crest of the rise and disappeared from sight. He gazed down at the face of his old pocket watch and was suddenly transported to a different time and place. The bronze lid, showing plain but shining in the evening light as Sarah wiped it carefully before tucking it into his pocket and patting the spot with her loving, caring hand. 'You take care, now, my love.' Larabee's hand crushed the burnished metal lid closed in his fist. Sarah's face blurred into Ezra's, blue eyes became green. His heart hurt. I am NOT going to lose you too, Ezra, he vowed silently. He looked up. It was time. Buck, you never left me in a fight, I don't aim to leave you now, he promised. Ez, here I come.

Chris Larabee was alone on the road. He set his hat down straight and even, brim flat against the setting sun that was low now behind him. He rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscle tension and wiped his mind clear. You didn't go into a fight angry. Not when there was this much at stake. Not when lives you cared about were in the balance. He pulled the cheroot from between his teeth and tossed it on the ground. Spat out some loose shreds of tobacco and wiped the back of one hand across his mouth. Shoulders back now, one hand relaxed at his side, the other out just a bit, curled above his gun. He'd draw it closer to. He preferred to fill his hand when he was ready to fire. He started walking.

Buck slumped back against the narrow tree trunk behind him. Ezra had stopped moving and wasn't talking. He wasn't sure if the southerner had dropped off to sleep or was just waiting, quiet. They both likely had concussions, though from the way Ezra'd been acting, his was probably pretty bad. Getting his ankle twisted was just added pain the man didn't need. Buck cricked his neck one way, then the other, trying to get the kinks of tension out of it. He kept his arms as relaxed as possible, cradling his friend against his chest. Ezra's head was heavy on him. Yep, probably asleep. Buck knew that Nate always kept waking them up when one of them had a concussion, but it hardly seemed fair to shake Ezra loose from the only relief he was gonna get for a spell. They'd been offered no water yet, or anything else. And once Lemuel had Ezra's boots off and Ezra's money in his hand, the center of interest had moved away from them.

That tall one, one of the others called him Marcus and then Boll had called him Yarrow, that Marcus Yarrow had snatched Ezra's money right out of Lemuel's hand. Buck smiled mildly. The look on Garson's face had been something else. Man had looked astonished and furious in turns. But he was smart too. He'd backed off with the rest of Yarrow's men there. That one freckle-faced man had a bad look to him. Freckle Face drew a gun briefly until Lemuel subsided. Yarrow had taken the money and headed back to the campfire. The rest had followed like they'd been on lead ropes. Didn't take much thinking to know what was going on over there right now. Buck's dark blue eyes rested on the men tightly grouped by the fire. Likely counting those bills, talking about how to split it.

Ezra's light cough alerted Buck that Standish wasn't asleep anymore. "Pard?"

"Buck?" Ezra's voice was indistinct, slurred.

"Yeah, it's still me, Pard," Buck took the opportunity to reset his legs and shoulders, move his arms a bit.

Standish stiffened and began to draw back against Buck's hold. "I must be heavy this way, I'm sorry."

Wilmington looked down at the gambler. One tough bantam. "S'okay, Ez." He flexed his arms and pulled the man back in. "Think we're both safer this way." He raised his eyes to the outlaws across the clearing. "Sorry about your money."

Ezra chuckled softly. "It doesn't matter." He turned in Buck's arms so that he could rest a shoulder there instead of his face, breathed in the cooling air. "Evening is coming?"

"Yeah." Puzzled, Buck eyed Ezra's relaxed form.

Answering the unasked question, Ezra made a show of sniffing. "Air's getting a bit chill. Shade seems cooler now too, I don't feel the sun anymore." He shrugged. "Just thought -"

Buck's look of admiration was lost on the blindfolded gambler. "Woo, doggie, Ez, you're pretty good there." He sat forward suddenly, almost upending the smaller man against him, grabbing on to Ezra's belt in reaction to Standish's near tumble. There. He'd heard it again.

"It's Vin." Ezra's voice was full of satisfaction as he regained his balance against Buck's body.

"Yeah." Buck looked around. He could see nothing, but that owl hoot was too early in the evening. And owls didn't repeat quite like that. He smiled slowly. "Yeah."

Ezra began to tighten with excitement. His nerves tingled. Our friends are here! Vin, who could be a true savage when called upon. And if Vin is here, so are the others. Josiah. Ezra winced. Oh, that would not be pretty. No, an angry Josiah was a very un-pretty sight. He wanted to grin but restrained himself, still conscious of the barely healing scatter of tiny wounds across his face. And, JD. Ezra had to bite his tongue from laughing. Oh, JD wasn't going to be very gentle today. Not with Buck hurt and captured. And JD likes me, too, Ezra decided with a happy little burble in his chest. Oh, JD would be trouble too. Nathan, they wouldn't have left Nathan behind. That man was truly deadly with those wicked knives of his. Ezra nodded wisely to himself. They'd never even know until it was much too late. That just left Chris. Chris Larabee. Ezra's heart began to beat faster, and faster, until it was knocking against the insides of his rib cage and he wanted to gasp out Chris' name. Why was he worried about Chris, of all people? He wasn't worried about the others. They'd be fine, he knew deep inside. They are dangerous and smart. So is Chris. Ezra's heart didn't slow, if anything it seemed likely to burst right out of his chest. He hunched over Buck's arms, biting back on a moan of panic.

"Ez?"

Buck's worried voice brought him back to himself a bit. He lifted his chin, licked his lips, and took a deep breath and held it, willing himself to be calmer. "I'm fine, Buck. Just excited, I guess." Chris would come in straight at them. Ezra knew this as he knew the sun rose in the morning. It was destiny. Chris was ultimately a force like none other that Ezra had ever encountered. Today, he'd be like some mad bull. He simply didn't know fear. Ezra suddenly knew fear intimately. Oh, please god, watch over them all, and please, god, keep Chris safe.

Nathan rested his free hand on JD's back. Not quite guiding, not quite restraining, just there. JD could get so excited he might break cover too soon. They'd leave it to Chris to start this thing. Nathan knew, without being told, that Larabee would. Soon. He and JD had half-run, crouched over, all the way around some big rocks to the gully that he and Vin had spotted. From there, it was good cover all the way to the edge of the stand of trees. Once in the shadow of several young trees, they'd crept out of the gully and into the undergrowth of the glade. He was relieved to see Buck, with Ezra in his arms, sitting there at the edge of the camp.

JD nearly shouted his relief at the sight of Buck and Ezra under a tree across from the outlaws and their campfire. He felt the touch of Nate's hand on his back and sank down deeper into the bushes they were using as cover. He parted some leafy branches and studied his friends.

Look alright. No obvious wounds or blood, Nathan thought as he considered their friends. Far enough from the raiders that he and JD could probably pull them down and give them cover 'til the shooting stopped. He leaned over and spoke in a quiet voice, "We got to get as close as we can to them, before things start happening."

Dunne nodded. He understood exactly what Nate meant. Buck and Ezra were sitting ducks like that. He dropped to hands and knees and moved carefully ahead, knowing that Nathan was right behind him.

Josiah reined his horse around and up onto the stagecoach trail. He started out at a walk, pulling his watch out to take a look again. Nearly time. He gigged the big sorrel into a choppy trot, the tails on his poncho-coat flying out behind him and he bounced up and down. He drew his weapon and grinned.

Vin cursed sharp stones and uneven ground. He slithered up closer to the camp, he could damn near count the hairs on Boll Garson's head now. The big man was sitting there sulking, his brother Lemuel leaning in for a refill of coffee from one of the men that Vin didn't know. He squinted toward the west as he slid his rifle out of the way. He'd not been sure which gun he'd need, but now that he was set, he was too close for the rifle. He pulled the mare's leg up and set the sights right there on one of the men facing him. Six altogether, and the fools aren't even keeping a watch. They appeared to be arguing about something. Vin was close enough to catch the word 'money' a few times and 'gambler's' once. Hope Ez is alright. There. He saw movement in front of the setting sun. Like a partial eclipse. Larabee.

"What do you see?"

"Ez, ain't nothing to see yet." Buck spoke through closed lips, quietly so he wouldn't draw the attention of the men near the fire.

"I have to see!"

Buck looked down in alarm as suddenly Ezra was twisting about in his arms, rubbing his face hard against Buck's chest. "Whoa! Ez, Pard! What the hell?" Buck was hard pressed to keep his voice down and found his arms being shoved as far as the ropes binding his wrists would allow.

Ezra was frantic. He knew, just knew, that Chris would be doing something totally outrageous, totally foolish. He HAD to see. With his hands tied behind him, he resorted to dragging his face against Buck's chest to get the blindfold off. His face hurt, burned with the harsh friction of the dry cloth scrubbing against his damaged skin, but he was fiercely determined to get the damn bandages off his eyes. With a gasp, he raised his head, the cloth having loosened enough to drop down below his chin. He blinked and blinked, his eyes watering. The pain from them was less, not the screaming agony of this morning. Only this morning? He shook his head, knocking against Buck again. Slowly, the world began to come into focus, blurry, watery focus.

"Damn, Ez, warn a feller, why don't you?" Buck frowned and pulled Ezra back up against his chest, folding his arms as tight as he could. When the shooting starts, figure I can roll us over into cover. He glanced over toward the close-by underbrush. Bright brown eyes smiled back at him. JD! He looked sharply. Nathan too! He grinned down at Ezra. Opened his mouth to tell him.

"You! In the camp!" Buck snapped his mouth shut. Oh, shit. That was Chris. Buck turned away to look, holding tight as Ezra began to struggle - trying to move towards the sound of Larabee's voice, from what Buck could tell. Felt hands on him, knew it was Nathan or JD, allowed himself to fall back, still clutching at Ezra and be pulled towards cover.

Boll stood up. Lemuel dove over the log he'd been sitting on, pulling his gun. Only to find himself nose to bore with Tanner's mare's leg. He stopped moving.

"Hi-Yup!" Josiah leaned forward and kicked mightily into the flanks of his poor sorrel. The beast responded with a grunt and leap. Josiah, grinning madly, pounded up the curve of the road and roared as he veered in toward the camp where he could see the men rising in confusion, drawing weapons, facing toward the setting sun and the black shadow there. Josiah took aim.

Nathan shoved down on Buck's shoulder with one hand, no time to pull them far enough into the brush, smoothly pulling a knife from his back strapped harness and throwing it with his other hand. The blade turned fiery red, then yellow as it spun through the air, reflecting the light of the setting sun.

JD jumped ahead of his friends, protecting Buck, Ezra and Nathan, with his body. He had both Colts out and coolly found a target.

Yarrow yanked his pistol from his holster and turned toward the sun. Shit. Can't see who it is. Just a tall, dark shape. But someone hostile. He could see the movements of a gun being drawn at lightning fast speed. Damn, it's Larabee!

O'Rourke and the other two men from Yarrow's original gang all rose up, guns drawn. The freckled O'Rourke spun around to face the sound of a charging horse and a loud shout from the rider. His gun arm swung up and he courageously drew bead, unmoving. Behind him, he heard a thunk and gurgle, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Chris stalked straight in. He knew he had the sun at his back and took advantage of that. Everything seemed to be slowing down. He kept careful focus on the men at the campfire, even though his peripheral vision told him that his boys were off to the side. They were near where JD and Nathan would emerge and that had to be enough for him for now. His heart screamed to run to Ezra, he fought the feeling, knowing he had to finish this first, for all their sakes. He heard Josiah coming, a great bellow of sound punctuated by the pounding of his horse's hooves.

Even with the clamor from Josiah, a hush seemed to hover over the camp, for just a moment. And then, like the opening of a stage play, all the characters sprung to life and sound. The outlaws were all firing off their guns, some towards Josiah's hulking figure as he stormed into the camp, others towards Chris, and then as JD's Colts began to bark, some swiveled to shoot off in that direction, too.

Chris' pistol was in his hand now and firing. He jerked back and to the side as a bullet burned across his gun arm. He ignored it and dipped to one knee, still firing. Taking careful aim with each shot. The men in front of him were dropping.

Vin motioned with his hand.

Lemuel held his gun out to the side and swallowed, moving over as Tanner commanded. The sounds of gunfire around him had the tracker look away for just an instant. It was enough for Lemuel. He tipped his gun back toward Tanner and pulled the trigger.

Vin cursed himself for a fool for being distracted and fired even as Lemuel Garson started to bring his gun to bear. Both weapons fired, Garson's shot going wild. Vin didn't bother to check the now faceless man who crumpled in front of him, instead he climbed to his feet, firing again as one of the other outlaws turned to face him.

Nathan threw a second blade and he shoved his knee down to join his hand in keeping his friends flat out on the ground. Buck and Ezra were fighting each other as much as trying to break free. He wasn't sure what was happening but kept them down, kept them safe. It was an effort. Their bodies bucked and shook beneath him. He could hear Buck's low growling curses alternating with pleas for Ezra to please just calm down.

Ezra's voice was more of a hiss. Jackson heard it but couldn't quite distinguish the words at first. He drew his old pistol and fired, satisfied when another outlaw spun back down. JD was to his right, firing with precision as still another man jerked to the side. At least the boy didn't fan his guns any more, Nathan thought disjointedly as he heard Ezra repeat something again, this time he understood the vehemently hissed, "LET ME UP!"

Chris shot again and the last man, Boll Garson, looking stunned, followed his daddy into an early grave. Larabee clamped a hand over his bleeding arm and stood up. Vin was standing, facing him, but looking down at the bodies at his feet, shoving at one with a foot. Josiah had pulled up and was backing his horse out of the camp, dropping to the ground with a loud shout of anger. Larabee sympathized. It was all over too soon. He wanted, needed to keep fighting. The push of energy pulsing through him was almost beyond his control. He knew he might look calm, but he wished he had it in him to shout like Josiah. He grit his teeth instead and focused. Ezra! Ezra and Buck.

With Josiah now, and Vin, checking the bodies, Chris turned sharply and strode over to where his other four men were. He purposefully blanked his mind. He didn't want to know. Please god. No, he didn't want to know. Let them be alright. He squeezed his arm, feeling slippery blood dripping through his fingers. Please god.

JD stood still, guns pointing at the camp. He watched carefully until Josiah dropped from his horse and joined Vin. Then he spun around, smiling tentatively. "Buck? Ezra?"

Nathan sat back on his heels to give the two men beneath him room now that the danger was passed. He shoved his gun back into his gun belt and stood up stiffly. Buck was still fighting Ezra, had the gambler locked in his arms somehow.

Buck feeling Nate release the pressure on his back, rolled over, giving Ezra some room. He felt like he'd had a wildcat in his arms. Trouble was, with his wrists tied, he couldn't let him go that easily and Ezra was so busy fighting to be free that Buck couldn't get his arms up and off the man. "EZRA!" Panting, Buck forced himself up to a seated position, and tugged the gambler back to his chest again. Ducking his head to speak directly into Standish's ear, he took fists of the man's shirt and held on tight. "Ezra." More quietly now, he spoke. "It's over. Just wait a minute and we'll get Nate to let us loose. Stop fighting me, Pard."

Ezra had panicked. No two ways about it. He'd admit it now to himself, as he breathed heavily, air sawing out of his too tight chest. He coughed hard and flopped his head back. He'd tried to get out from under Buck's sudden body weight, frantic at the sounds of gunfire, terrified that Chris might be hurt. Barely able to see, he squinted at the world around him, suddenly conscious of the blood making his hands sticky. His wrists must be a mess by now, the hemp tearing tender flesh already abraded. Where was Chris? Was he alright? Ezra's hands clenched in helpless fists.

Chris came to an abrupt stop just feet from his men. He stared. JD was stooping down to put a hand on Buck's shoulder, a smile on his face. Nathan was pulling another knife from his harness as he knelt beside their two missing men. Buck was holding Ezra in his arms, but Ezra didn't seem hurt, in fact, he wasn't even wearing his blindfold anymore. Ezra's head was resting on Buck's chest and the big man was leaning down, looked like he was saying something private into Ezra's ear.

Something inside of Chris shriveled up. He closed his eyes. They are safe. Alive. That's all that should matter. Then why did he suddenly feel so stricken? He re-holstered his gun and wiped his brow, then blindly turned away. So he didn't see Nathan slip the knife blade into the nearly invisible ropes deeply grooved into Buck's wrists. He didn't see Ezra choke and half fall over Buck's lap, calling hoarsely for Chris, nor did he hear Ezra demanding to be cut free. Chris walked back the way he'd come.

Nathan dropped down on both knees to catch Ezra as he fell forward out of Buck's arms. Cutting the ropes around Wilmington's wrists had taken away Standish's support. Jackson set his knife down to the side and pushed Ezra back until he was seated on his heels. "Stay put, Ezra." Nathan peered closely into the watering wide green eyes. The uneven pupils told him enough. Concussion. He held on to one shoulder as Ezra tried to twist free again. "Just let me have a look-"

Ezra's "NO!" was overlapped by Buck's "Geezus, Nathan! Cut him free!" Then Buck Wilmington's big body was thrusting Jackson aside and into the dirt, Ezra was half-staggering to his feet in an unbalanced surge, and JD rushed forward to try to help. Buck, frustrated when he realized he couldn't manage to pick up Jackson's knife with his numbed hands, yelled at the kid. "JD! Grab that knife and cut Ezra free, dammit!" Buck could not believe that his friend Nathan Jackson had actually wanted to leave Ezra bound while looking him over. By GOD, that man had something to learn about treating folks with humanity!

Jackson stared wide-eyed at Buck, then shifted to Ezra's struggling form as the man heaved himself unsteadily to his feet. By then, JD was at the man's back, Jackson's own discarded knife in his hand. Nathan pushed up, he didn't know what Buck's problem was but he could see the gash at the back of Standish's head now and he'd somehow lost his blindfold, those eyes were watering badly and the cuts on his face were filthy. If he didn't get Ezra settled down soon, he'd fall over; Nathan had to treat those wounds and clean the cuts. Even if no one else cared, he knew infection could be deadly. He shoved himself up to his feet.

JD grabbed Nathan's knife, he could see the bloody wrist bindings that were holding Ezra. No way one of his friends needed to suffer like that. Even if Buck hadn't hollered at him, he'd have been right there. He caught hold of one of Ezra's forearms through a tattered shirt sleeve and spoke tightly to his friend, "Hold still, Ez, I'm cutting you free." He dug the blade point under the new rope, wincing at how prickly it felt to the touch, knowing how it must have torn at Ezra's skin. He could feel the tremors in Ezra's body.

"JD?" Ezra sagged back a step, off balance and dizzy, pressing against the firm hand on his arm. He bit the inside of his mouth when he felt the knife slice through skin as well as rope, pulled hard at his arms and suddenly was free. The hand fell off him and he nearly tumbled down again, except here was Jackson back in his face. Damn it all, "LET ME BE, NATHAN!" He swung clear and ended up spinning around and landing back on the ground in a heap. Oh, it was all just too much. And where the hell is Christopher Larabee? What of those professions of love? He let himself collapse onto his back and stared up into the concerned, if very blurry, faces of Jackson, Dunne, and Wilmington. "Aw, hell."

Chris ran directly into Josiah's chest. With a silent curse, he attempted to side step the man, only to find himself doing a two-step with him. He looked up, angry and despairing. "Sanchez-"

"Going the wrong way, aren't you, Brother?" Josiah had a fair idea of the burr under Larabee's blanket. He might not know everything that was going on, but Josiah had seen and heard enough this morning to make a guess.

Larabee shook his head and looked beyond the preacher to where Vin Tanner was pulling weapons free from the bodies of the dead and tossing the guns to the side into a heap. Cautious Vin. Smart. He focused on that and tried to shoulder past Sanchez. Without any luck. Then Vin looked up straight at him and then past him toward where Buck and Ezra were. Chris bit back a disgusted groan when Vin looked back at him questioningly.

Buck smiled down at Ezra who lay there looking most put-out. Yep, darn near pouting. He hid a grin and grabbed hold of JD as the world tilted for a moment.

"Buck! You alright?" JD staggered under the sudden weight of his tall friend, turning to try to help hold the man upright.

Buck nodded and caught himself back on one heel. "Yeah. Fine." He wiped at his face and looked around, then down at Ezra again who was now once more trying to sit up. "Look after Ezra for me." He gave JD a light push, leaning closer for just a moment. "Don't let Nate get too pushy. Not what Ez needs right now."

JD patted the hand on his shoulder and moved out from under it, to crouch down beside the gambler. Jackson was leaning in too. JD beat him to it. "Here Ez, let me give you a hand." He thrust one hand under one of Ezra's arms and began to lift.

Buck stepped away and turned to see the back of Chris Larabee. Looked like Josiah was blocking him but it also looked like the man had been trying to move away from them. What the -? He closed the distance to his old friend in a few big steps, grabbing one arm and yanking Larabee around to face him. "Chris!"

Larabee couldn't believe it. All he wanted to do was go away and lick his wounds. First Josiah, then Vin, now Buck of all people. Shit! He turned, bringing up a roundhouse swing with his body's motion, feeling savage satisfaction as his fist connected with Buck's jaw. He would have followed through except that Josiah had clamped down on his shoulders from the back and had a grip like iron. He ground his teeth and clenched his fists, anger coming off like heat as Buck stared up at him from the ground, rubbing his jaw and looking bewildered.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Buck's growl held no forgiveness. He'd been through too many crappy hours, keeping Ezra safe from harm, 'cause Ezra was his friend and 'cause his other friend Chris loved the little gambler. He didn't deserve this.

"Listen!" Josiah's soft command in his ear slowed the beat of Larabee's blood, where it thrummed in his temples. "Look again!"

Josiah shook the taut, lean frame in front of him, willing the man to really see. He tried again. "Think, Chris. Think."

Just then Ezra finally found his feet, with JD's helpful arm and fought off Nathan's hands again, staggering clear of them. "CHRIS!"

Ezra was a mess. His face was oozing blood from several reopened cuts, his hair was spiked up in damp clumps, his eyes were watery and streaming, pupils uneven, the greens foggy, his shirt was stained, pulled out from his trousers in places, and, as he raised his arms, the blood stains at the shirt cuffs were bright red. But he was calling out Chris Larabee's name like it was the most important thing in the world.

Chris tilted his head to the side as if to better see the man weaving towards him unsteadily. He felt Josiah's hands leave him. He took a deep breath, then another one, faster, and was moving. Two firm strides and he and Ezra collided. Ezra pushed his mottled face upwards and stared up into Larabee's face. Chris could read the worry there, the love. What had he been thinking? His arms came up around this man who held his heart. Pulled him close, locking his arms tightly, sheltering his Ezra from further harm. He closed his eyes and let his cheek rest on Ezra's forehead.

Ezra had given up on formality. He'd given up on propriety much earlier today. Now he gave up everything except Chris. His sole intent was to reach the man who said he loved Ezra. The man that Ezra had loved for so long that his heart knew no other roads to take anymore. When Chris' arms encircled him and pulled them together, he went willingly, anxious for the reassurance that Chris was whole, unharmed. He stared up into those greeny hazel eyes and was lost. Happily lost. The world began to gray.

"Shit!" Chris swiftly changed his grip as Ezra sank bonelessly downward inside his arms. With a twist and dip, Larabee stood up, holding a limp Ezra in his arms, ignoring the blood still dripping from his own bullet creased bicep. He lifted his head to call for help but "NATHAN!" came from four other mouths as if he were a multi-voiced ventriloquist. JD, Buck, Josiah, and Vin who'd come up behind him, all shouted at once.

Nathan had given up for the moment. No one wanted his help yet. He could wait. Not long. But he could wait. He sprinted off toward the horses, intent on getting his pack of medical supplies. Soon as everyone calmed down, he'd take a look at Ezra, clean him up. Buck probably needed tending too. And he wasn't sure if all the rest of them came through unscathed. Striding back toward the clearing, he nodded in satisfaction as four voices rose in chorus, calling his name. Coulda told them. He shook his head and broke into a trot.

"You know, Chris, this would be a lot easier to do if you just let him go." Nathan knelt beside the two men where Larabee had lowered Ezra to the ground. Jackson set his leather bag down by them and then looked up at JD who was close beside them, almost hovering. "JD, I need water, can you get me some from the spring. Maybe put some up to boil at that fire, too?" Nathan nodded toward the abandoned campfire where Josiah was heaving bodies up on to the backs of the outlaws' horses while Vin held the lead ropes.

Dunne nodded wordlessly and sped off. Buck Wilmington had picked himself up only to wander over and sink wearily to the ground near Jackson. Nathan peered at the big man. "You hurt too, Buck?"

Wilmington rubbed at his jaw and nodded, admitting, "Think I might be some concussed."

"That fist to the jaw didn't help none either," Jackson shook his head looking back over at Chris Larabee. So far, the gunfighter had ignored his prodding, but at this jab, Larabee looked up from his contemplation of the unconscious man resting against him.

"Sorry, Buck."

"You take good care of old Ez, and I just might forgive you, Pard." Wilmington grinned ruefully, having figured out what had happened after a few words in his ear from Josiah. 'Course that didn't mean Chris wasn't going to get some Dutch back some time, just not right now. His dark eyes spoke to Larabee with that promise.

Chris sat up a bit straighter, settling Ezra more on to the ground, but resting Ezra's head in his lap. He nodded his understanding. He owed Buck, and his old friend would collect one of these days. That was all right. He could live with that. He had to learn to rein in his temper. His hands momentarily tightened, fingers squeezing Ezra's shoulders. Guess I'll get a lot of practice. He couldn't pick some sweet young thing to fall for, could he? Nope, got me a contrary little weasel, likely to keep me hoppin.'

Ezra groaned. He couldn't believe how miserable he felt. This could not be happening. Could it? He squinted up, only to cringe at the sight of Nathan's face directly above his own, only inches away. Warm hands pressed into his shoulders more gently now. He shifted his gaze to the side and saw that he was being supported by Chris. All the energy he had left fled as he relaxed in Chris' hands. He closed his eyes again and drifted off, content knowing he was safe with Chris.

Nathan spoke sharply, "Ezra?" He reached out to slap the man's face lightly only to find his wrist caught and held. He looked up at Larabee. "Chris, I need to see how he's doing."

Chris Larabee stared at Jackson. He knew that the healer was a good man, honest, blunt, and also a talented medic, but right now he just saw someone who wasn't showing as much care as his Ezra deserved. "He'll do a lot better if you go easy on him."

Nathan pulled away and sat back again. He took a deep breath, ready to fire off his opinion on this sudden protectiveness. But Buck Wilmington calmly interrupted his thoughts before he could speak.

"Nate, I think he might need a few stitches back of his head. Was bleeding pretty bad. Kept falling asleep on me too." Buck put his head down on his bent knees, very weary suddenly. Talking to his knees, he added, "And I think you might want to take a look at Chris' arm."

Jackson's eyes snapped to the left and widened. There was a damp tear in Larabee's black leather short coat, on the outside of the man's right arm. He looked down and saw blood slowly dripping from Larabee's cuff onto the back of his hand where it held Ezra's shoulder. Damn.

Vin stroked the nose of the horse he held, and looked over toward the small group huddled on the ground, then spoke to JD who had just come over with a pan of water to put by the fire. "How's everyone doing, JD?"

Dunne grimaced and looked back over his shoulder to where Nathan was now busily pulling off one sleeve of Chris Larabee's jacket. "Nate's pushing some. Ezra's hurt, but it don't look too bad. Him and Buck both got knocked out." He shook his head. "Chris got shot in the arm, but I don't think the bullet went in, looked like a burn."

Josiah stood back and tapped the hanging leg of the corpse he'd just thrown over the horse Vin was holding. "Should I go have a word with Nate?" He wiped his hands on his pants, sweat dripping down his face.

JD shrugged. "They all need patching. Nate's good at that." He returned his gaze to first Vin, then Josiah. "It's just sometimes, he forgets the people inside the bodies."

Vin nodded once. That was a fact. When Vin'd needed doctorin' in the past, he'd resented the way Nate poked and fussed, him being a private sort of feller. But, Nate was good at what he did. Trade off.

Josiah sighed and bent his head. The nobler the spirit, the more firmly the feet are set in clay. The boys would heal, Nathan would see to it, and time would take care of the rest. He lifted his head again and smiled at Vin and JD. "You know, a drink would go down real well right about now."

Vin brightened. "Bet these boys was packing some."

Several hours later, the Seven rode back into Four Corners, leading a series of horses carrying the bodies of the rest of the Yarrow gang and the two Garson brothers. The few town folk still out for after dinner strolls as the evening darkened, stopped to watch the slow procession. JD Dunne, their sheriff, and Josiah Sanchez, their preacher, peeled off from the line to stop in front of the undertaker's place with the bodies.

Vin Tanner led the rest of the men up the street and directly to the saloon hitching rail. The rumble of noise inside invited and the beckoning lights of the saloon shone out into the street.

"Ezra should probably come on up to the clinic," Nathan began as he stepped down from his saddle.

Four men silently turned to look at him. No one spoke.

Jackson sighed. "All right. All right." He held up his hands good-naturedly. He wasn't dumb, just had his own priorities. He shook his head and smiled that slow building, charming smile that had long since stolen Raine's heart. Still got to warn them. He cautioned, "Just don't drink any alcohol right now, Ezra. You either, Buck, you both got concussed."

Wilmington swung off his tall gray and tied up the horse to the rail. His dizziness and fight with nausea had passed, but he understood his friend's concern. He looked seriously at Nathan and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sure thing, Nathan." He smiled slightly. "Thanks." He turned and looked at the entrance, his face melting into a cheerful grin. "Figure a nice warm bed with a bit of company is all I need for now." Nodding to the others, he rubbed his hands together and winked, then stepped up on to the boardwalk and disappeared inside.

Chris dismounted more slowly. He kept one hand on the smaller man that had ridden into town with him, sharing a saddle. Ezra looked a lot better thanks to Nathan. Face clean and wrists bandaged, his eyes nearly clear now - more focused, even his hair tidied, he looked more like his Ezra. His darling, exasperating, brilliant Ezra. Eyes never leaving the gambler's face, he waited. "Ez?"

Ezra Standish sat and looked down at Chris Larabee. The man looks tired. I am tired. We are tired. He smiled slightly. Slowly he drawled out, in a fair imitation of Wilmington's quietly jovial speech, "Figure a nice warm bed with a bit of company is all I need for now."

Chris Larabee's eyes brightened, the hazel sparkling with green and amber lights. The blond lifted his other arm up and, both arms extended, accepted Ezra's weight and small bulk as the southerner slipped down from the saddle and into his arms, to stand in front of him pressing close. "Figure we can get you some company." He wrapped an arm around Ezra's shoulders, "And a warm bed," and led him inside.

JD and Josiah rode up and dismounted just as Ezra dropped from the saddle into Chris Larabee's embrace. Josiah watched with a slow smile, JD blinked. Vin, who'd been standing behind Nathan, ready to kick the man's ass if need be, grinned at the others and clapped a hand down in friendly fashion on Jackson's shoulder. "Time for another drink, boys."

"A toast might be in order." Josiah clumped up the steps, following Vin who was pushing Nathan inside the saloon.

JD stood for another moment, staring up and down the street, nearly empty at this late hour, street fires burning brightly, then he looked back up at the swinging saloon doors. "What just happened here?" But, being young, he dismissed any mysteries with a shrug and bounded up the steps, following his friends inside.

Chris paced his southerner as they crossed the saloon floor. He saw and nodded to Inez who was serving some ranch hands at the bar. She tossed her mane of black hair back and lifted her chin at him in acknowledgement and welcome, dark eyes flying to Standish in concern. Chris, trying to watch everyone and everywhere at once, caught her eyes on their return to his face. He smiled slightly, knowing that would be enough to reassure the woman. He was grateful for her worry. He knew that she would always look out for Ezra, having met and dealt with his forceful mother.

He spared a glance down and found that Ezra's eyes were locked on the stairs in front of them. Probably barely able to keep to his feet, Chris decided tolerantly, before continuing his survey of their passage. No sign of Buck, which meant that his old friend had probably latched on to one of the working women and headed up stairs immediately. Chris felt his cheeks heat in remembrance of his foolish assumptions earlier. He should know better. Hadn't Buck stepped aside when he fell for Sarah? Buck would never trespass. Chris let his hand slide up and down Ezra's far arm reassuringly, possessively.

The caress distracted Ezra who mis-shuffled his feet and darted a look up at his companion. Chris was shifting his gaze alertly around the room. Ezra looked down. Larabee was toying with the butt of his gun where it thrust up from the holster on those slim hips. Ezra swallowed, licking his lips, and raised his eyes once more to his destination, the stairs.

Nathan nearly fell into the saloon with Vin's forceful push behind him. He rebalanced himself with a rushed step and half-turned to lasso an arm around the energetic tracker and pull him up even. He grinned down at the younger man. "You're in a powerful hurry."

Vin, unrepentant, returned the grin with one of his own. "Could really use that drink after the last few days." He wiped at his mouth with the back of one hand, then looked ahead to where Chris and Ezra had reached the foot of the stairs. Thoughtfully, his grin eased into a knowing smile. Them boys better get some rest first. Seeing that Ez was gonna be alright, he felt better himself. Won't ever be that careless again, he promised himself. Yeah, he was feeling sleepy - now. Just need a drink, maybe two, first. No need for Nate to know why. He turned away toward their regular table, leading now.

Nathan, and Josiah who'd caught up to him by now, joined Tanner, each sinking into a chair with a sigh. Inez appeared at Nathan's elbow with a bottle and a tray of glasses. Josiah reached up and plucked the bottle free. Vin took the tray and set it down on the center of the table.

"Is JD -" Inez's question died on her lips at the young sheriff pushed through the street doors and nearly trotted over to the table. She smiled warmly at him and nodded once to the others, content that all were safely back. She whisked away, already speaking to another patron, taking an order.

Josiah was pouring, and slid a glass over to JD as the boy sat down. For once, JD didn't refuse the offering, mind going back to the dead men they'd just left at the undertaker's.

Each man lifted a brim full glass of whisky and eyes met across and around the table. No one spoke.

Ezra sniffed as he found the door to his room ajar. He looked back the question at Chris Larabee, his large shadow.

Chris reached beyond Ezra and straight-armed the door open wide. "We left in a hurry when you turned up missing. Already getting set to go after Buck, he was mighty late on his patrol." Chris dropped his hand from the door and set it in the small of Ezra's back, giving a slow, steady push.

Ezra stood fighting it for just a moment, then bent his head and walked on in to his room, knowing that Chris wouldn't leave this time, not even if Ezra asked him to. Ezra ignored his bed and walked over to his window, to stand there staring out at the night.

Now what? Chris hesitated, then turned and closed the door, picking up the key that lay in plain sight on the nightstand. He locked the door and left the key in it. Throat clearing warned him that this round was just about to start. Well, hell, he was up for this. And in a sight better condition than Ezra. He figured the scratch to his arm didn't really count. He slowly pivoted on one heel, hearing the scrape of his rowel on the wood floor. He folded his arms and faced his adversary. The weasel.

JD coughed explosively as the whisky seared down his throat. Josiah whacked him on the back and laughed, then lifted his head and signed to Inez at the bar. She tipped her head, eyebrows lowering in a frown, and watched as he pointed to JD's bowed head and still heaving shoulders. With a flash of comprehension, Inez ducked beneath the bar.

Vin and Nathan observed the small scene with mild interest, then Vin topped off all the glasses again. He and Nate both downed their new drinks with only a slight softening of their features to betray the effects of the strong drink.

When Josiah picked up his glass, he found Inez already there again, this time placing a mug in front of JD Dunne. The young man looked up with watering eyes and gasped a brief thank you, not even bothering to look insulted. Josiah patted his back again, this time with approval.

Vin and Nathan eyed Josiah, then JD, then Vin poured another round for the three remaining whisky drinkers and all three men upended their glasses.

"Don't you think you all should slow down some?" JD's voice rasped just slightly, white mustache a faint testimony to his new beverage.

Nathan nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, guess you're right JD. I'm going to call it a night." He shoved himself away from the table and stood, weaving only slightly. "Night," he said to the men still seated and moved off, slowly making his way back out of the saloon.

Josiah sighed heavily, toying with his again empty glass. He really wanted to have another drink, but hell, he knew if he didn't stop soon, there'd be trouble and tonight, he raised his eyes to the landing at the top of the stairs then dropped them back to the empty glass, tonight should be a quiet night. He would make it his gift. He smiled at the thought and spun the glass in his thick fingers, then set it upside down on the table, capping his evening. "See you in the morning." Realizing suddenly that no one was on the night's duty shift, he stood and rubbed his back.

JD smiled up at the big preacher as if he could read the man's thoughts. "I'll take duty tonight."

Vin yawned and sipped his final whisky. "I'll take over at first light."

No one mentioned the fact that Chris Larabee hadn't assigned shifts this evening. JD thought about that as he stood up and nodded to Vin. Both peacekeepers followed Josiah Sanchez out the doors of the saloon, Vin heading for his wagon, Josiah his church, and JD for the jail.

Vin slumped a bit as he leaned against the tailgate of his wagon in the alley. He ached still from yesterday's fall and gunshot, though he hadn't wanted to admit it in front of Nathan, or the others. He yawned again. The whisky was already numbing some of the ache. He crawled into the canvas covered wagon bed and rolled into his blankets without bothering to pull off any clothes. If Ezra is half as tired as I am, Vin thought with a quirking smile, then old Chris is going to be running lone wolf tonight, too. He chuckled, closed his eyes, and his next breath was a snore.

Josiah ambled along beside young JD. The boy was fidgeting, playing with the leather loops that topped his guns, darting glances sideways at Josiah as they walked up the dark street. Josiah sighed. I wonder if it's innocence or if he just missed the signs. He held his counsel, content to let JD speak first if speak he would.

"Ah, Josiah?"

Ezra turned away from the window and leaned back on the sill, facing Chris Larabee. They really should discuss all this first, before doing something irrevocable. He reached up and began to scratch at a healing scab, his whole face had started itching.

Chris didn't waste time, striding directly across the room and into Ezra. He captured the upraised hand and pulled it away from Ezra's face. "You'll get scars." He leaned in and kissed Ezra on the cheek, near where he'd been fussing. With his free hand, he encircled Ezra's waist and tugged him in closer. He brought the culprit hand up to his chest and covered it with his.

Ezra looked up into Chris' bright eyes and yawned. Well, perhaps conversation could wait until morning. He leaned easily against the strong, tall man in front of him, finding it a comfortable support for his tired body. His face was still burning and painful, but in a muted sort of way. Can probably attribute that to the concussion. He suddenly found it amusing that one pain might cancel another. His lips curled up in a smile and he snuggled closer to Larabee's upright, warm body. Very nice this. He slipped his unclaimed hand into the front of Chris' waistband, under the belt and crossing gun belt. Somewhere under all those layers and constrictions, somewhere under there was skin. Ezra burrowed his fingers, tugging partway out the front shirttail and being frustrated by long johns. He gave up. Tomorrow, he promised himself. And closed his eyes.

Chris held his breath when Ezra began to probe at his pant's top edge. He was afraid to pull Ezra any tighter for fear he might squeeze the begeezus out of the man, but it was a struggle to hold back. He lowered his lips to kiss Ezra's ear as the southerner rested his head against Chris' chest. With a lick, he spoke quietly, "Ez? How about we go to bed?"

A mumble of indistinguishable sounds was his only answer. With a tender smile, Larabee swung them around and half-led, half-carried Ezra to the bed. Releasing Ezra gently turned out to be pointless. The man simply flopped down on the mattress. "Ezra?" Chris pressed one knee into the bedding beside Ezra's nearest arm. "Ez?" He touched the back of the small man's neck, rubbing gently. Ezra made a small noise, and burrowed deeper into the down comforter topping the bed.

Well, you got your warm bed. Chris shook his head fondly at Ezra's trust. Man was usually suspicious as hell. Never closed an eye unless sure of his own safety. Tonight he just let me take care of him. Chris lightly stroked one stretched thigh but got no response. Guess it's time to get us both a bit more comfortable, then get some sleep. Gonna make sure we get some time tomorrow, Chris promised himself as he removed Ezra's reclaimed boots, then eased him over and unbuckled his belt.

"Yes, Brother Dunne?" Sanchez could out wait a god masquerading as a dog; and, he could wait for JD to say what was on his mind.

"How come-?" JD cleared his throat. He turned around so he could walk backwards, facing Josiah. "How come Chris went upstairs with Ezra? I figured Nate would do that."

"John Dunne," Josiah slowed his pace but didn't stop, "Do you recall Chris and Ezra at that outlaw camp?" JD nodded, flushing slightly and no longer meeting Josiah's eyes. Ah. "Do you recall Chris and Ezra in the street, in front of the saloon just now?" JD nodded, face becoming red, staring at Sanchez worn boots. "Now do you really need answers, John Dunne?"

JD's heel caught on a wagon rut and he fell backwards onto his rump, only to stare up at Josiah with his mouth open.

"Here, son," Josiah said, offering a hand, then pulling JD back on to his feet. "Any more questions, JD?"

JD shook his head and looked back toward the saloon, his eyes rising to the second story where a window still shone with a yellow glow. While he watched someone passed in front of the light, taller that Ezra's normal silhouette. Whoever it was, came back and pulled Ezra's heavy drapes across the window, blocking the light. Whoever? He heaved a deep sigh and shook his head again, then looked over at Josiah who was also looking back toward the saloon. "Good night, Josiah."

"Good night, John Dunne."

"Good night, Ez."

"... night, chris ..."

And Chris curled an arm over Ezra's naked body, drawing the man close up against his own skin. Felt damn good. He smiled into Ezra's shoulder and closed his eyes.

The warmth of another body, pressed tightly against his, woke Ezra. He didn't try to move, just opened his eyes. Rays of sun shafted the room, arrowing through small gaps in the drawn drapes, like sundogs piercing a cloudy day. One beam of light shot across the space above his head, full of dancing motes of dust. The soft down bed was his own and familiar, but he hadn't awakened to the feel of another's flesh against his in a very long time. Contentment washed over him. He knew it was Chris at his back and he lifted one arm over his head so that he could turn over within the other man's arms. He wanted to see Chris.

The blond was soundly asleep, dark circles set deep beneath closed eyes. He was breathing quietly, a soft sush-sush of sound. Ezra could feel the breath against his face now, so close were they. He lowered his arm again and his fingers sought out the face of the man in his heart. Even though Chris had declared his love first, Ezra had doubted.

He tried to examine his feelings now but the intimacy of their repose defeated him. He found himself too caught up in enjoying the touch, the skin on skin textures. He let his finger lightly trace the lines that creased the man's brow, even in sleep. The finger, as if with a mind of its own, continued down one eye socket to cheek bone, then on to jaw, moving against the stubble there to the point of the firm, hard chin. From there it was a simple, compelling journey to Chris' lower lip.

Ezra became fascinated by the shape of Chris' mouth at rest. His undaunted digit sailed slowly, majestically along the crevasse of joined lips to the wonder of the puckish closure, puffing up slightly, making an almost frown at the melding point with lower cheek muscles. From there, the journey traced a deep track up to Chris' nose. Ezra's eyes followed along, dreamy with the convenience of a close-encounter with his dream lover's features. Then Chris' nose twitched. Ezra rubbed the tip experimentally and a large hand came up over his, covering it, capturing it, guiding the errant finger downward. Green eyes flashed up to meet amused hazel ones just as the finger was plunged into a damp, warm orifice.

Spontaneously, Ezra's body arched in response to the wet warmth. He was out of control. His body wanted this even as his mind screamed cautions. His mouth opened in an O of surprise and was caught as well, sealed against Chris' as the man twisted his head and pressed down and in, tongue diving in to claim and play. Ezra wanted to slow down and he wanted to explode, not necessarily in that order.

Chris panted as Ezra gurgled. The southerner was pushing up, rubbing upward, instantly hard and eager. Chris felt the urgency in Ezra's responses, the feral rawness.

Chris smothered a groan and re-wrapped his arms yet more tightly around Ezra. They were both awake, aware, and aroused. He'd found heaven. He didn't bother to smother the second groan that grew inside and leaked out as he stretched himself against Ezra's sturdy, shorter body. The trick would be to keep Ezra on the edge, keep him from thinking too much or he'd try to slide away again. And Chris wasn't going to lose his sweet little weasel for anything. Not even for the man's own contrariness.

Tautly, Ezra strained against the hold that Chris maintained. Thinking already. We need to talk. Oh, god. Ezra twisted his head to the side, his traitorous body squirming to rub savagely harder against Chris' own hardness. He gasped and clawed Larabee's ribs, gripping so hard that he could feel the bones, like ridges between his groping fingers. "Chris!"

"No talking, Ezra." Chris rubbed his unshaven cheek harshly against bare shoulder, knowing he was leaving burn marks.

"But I think-"

"No thinking, Ezra." Chris turned so he could swallow Ezra's mouth with his own, teeth clashing. He hunched over, pulling Ezra into his shelter, his protection. One hand pressed up Ezra's vertebrae, drove through the fine, softly curling nape hairs and anchored the man's head in place. Chris held them as long as he could, feeling Ezra's body slacken, then respond to his. With a lick and a suck, Chris finally pulled back and looked into stunned green eyes.

"That much?" Ezra's voice was soft, nearly soundless. "You want me that much?"

"Want you, yes." Chris laved Ezra's throat from hollow to jaw, then returned to nip and lick at Ezra's parted lips. "Need you, more." Chris pressed his face against the side of Ezra's and whispered into his ear, "Love you, most of all." And then he held on tightly and waited, holding his breath as well.

The cessation of movement and sound created a strange disjointed void for Ezra. He was aghast at his body's surrender. He was confused. He was desperate for more of those demanding touches, kisses that sucked at his soul. Inside, he cried out. Chris! ... Chris! I want you so much. I need you so much. I love you so much. Was it so hard to say those things aloud? It meant the end of his freedom, the end of his independence, the end of his safety deep inside his own private, spiritual fortress. "Chris-" it came out as an agonized moan of defeat. He bowed his head onto Larabee's shoulder, one trembling hand coming up to touch Chris' curved spine with the delicacy of a moth's wing to candle flame. Much like that wing, he felt the flame and was burned. "... chris ..." this time it was a sad little murmur.

Instantly alert, Chris Larabee loosened his death grip and moved back enough to be able to bring Ezra's head up from its resting place and look into the man's cloudy eyes. A shadowed soul looked back, sad and lost, scared. Alone. "Aw shit, Ez." Chris gently pulled his conflicted friend back into his arms, this time to offer comfort and careful loving tenderness.

His heart was thudding so fast he was certain it might burst out of his chest to beat between them like a huge drum. Chris took a hitching, sucking breath into his overly sensitized body and demanded it behave. He swiveled his hips away from Ezra's, ignoring Ezra's small cry of bereavement. The man clearly wasn't ready mentally or emotionally, even if his body was.

Chris wanted more than just a warm body, even if it was a most perfect body. One that fit his. Such a beautiful body. Such a beautiful man. Chris wanted and needed all of Ezra, he wanted the man's incredibly sensitive and empathic emotions and his agile, challengingly brilliant mind. All of you. I love all of you. Heart, I want your heart, Ezra. I need your love and your commitment, emotionally and mentally.

Chris hugged Ezra gently and rested his chin on a convenient shoulder. Last time they'd shared a bed, he'd finessed his friend into revealing feelings deeply hidden. Pushed him over the edge. No more tricks.

Ezra was stunned at the way Chris had responded to his plea. The instant acquiescence was so unexpected, and yet, why should it be? Lying there, held close, Ezra shut his eyes and tried to think. Not easy when his rebellious body seemed determined to drag him further into a situation of convenience. No! He knew at some heretofore undiscovered gut level that he was no 'convenience' for Christopher Larabee. That struck him as funny suddenly. With a watery chuckle, he lifted his head and sighed, turning enough to lightly kiss the nearest part of the blond, which happened to be an ear. "Not very convenient, am I?"

That brought an answering chuckle from Chris. With a smile, he lifted Ezra's shoulders and brought them around with minimal fuss, settling the man on his chest and shoulder so that they both faced the mostly shut curtains of the street side window. He pulled himself up a bit, Ezra with him, so that he leaned against the bed's headrest, and Ezra leaned against him. Cuddling the man, he answered, "This isn't about convenient, Ezra."

"No," Ezra smiled, a secretive, small smile. He toyed with the strong, capable hand that rested on his abdomen, enjoying the completeness he felt within himself. He could feel Larabee's love wrapped around him. Freeing something deep inside him. With a new sense of confidence, unexpected and liberating, he answered boldly, "I love you, Chris."

Chris folded his other hand into the first, fingers meshing over Ezra's stomach, thumbs rubbing Ezra's naval, smallest fingers sliding easily into the wiry curls just below. He didn't try to start anything, just savored the touch. Ezra needs me, but he needs time too. In the quiet, understanding and a new beginning grew. Chris settled in. Everything was going to be fine.

Buck strolled down the stairs of the saloon, stroking his mustache and feeling rested, healed. He figured it for just past noon, and sure enough, JD and Nate were sharing some lunch at their table. He grinned and bounded down the rest of the stairs.

"Hey there, Pards!"

JD looked up, dark eyebrows raising like flags. Nate was the one who answered him though. "How you feeling, Buck?"

"I'm feeling great!" He stretched expansively.

"Then you wouldn't mind taking a turn at the jail?" JD leaned back in his seat and cocked his head, a smile growing.

"Sure, kid, soon's I get me some food." He waved an arm at the daytime bar tender who nodded back and disappeared into the kitchen. Buck looked around. "Where's everyone?"

"Vin took over the dawn shift, then he just now went back to his wagon to sleep some more," Nathan said, taking a sip of his coffee. He looked out the front doors of the saloon, then added, "Josiah's taking the afternoon at the jail." He finished up nodding at Dunne, "And JD did the night shift over there."

Buck scratched at his chin, frowning. "And Chris and Ezra?"

JD answered, his voice low, but carrying a newly mature air of amused approval. "Far as we know, they haven't been downstairs yet."

Impressed, Buck turned and stared back up at the second floor landing. "Damn." A slow, happy smile grew. "Damn."

- End of Finessed -