A Blast From Hell

by Poohbear-29

A gang of outlaws comes looking for the Seven.

TitleA BLAST FROM HELL!

Author------Winnie

Rating------T---language and violence

CommentsA gang of outlaws comes gunning for the seven.

DisclaimersNot mine...never were...just writing for enjoyment

"Chris!"

Chris Larabee turned and faced the young dark haired Sheriff of Four Corners. "What is it, JD?" he asked impatiently. He'd just returned from a long day's riding and desperately needed a whiskey, something to cut through the dust and grit coating the back of his throat.

"I just got a wire from Judge Travis," Dunne told him.

"What's it say?" Chris asked as he continued into the saloon, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim interior. He spotted the other members of the seven seated at various tables.

"He says there's a gang headed this way."

"Which one this time?" Chris asked as he made his way to the bar and reached for the shot glass the bartender automatically passed him. Chris tipped it back and swallowed the fiery liquid, passing the glass back for a refill.

"Archer and his bunch. They left Eagle Bend yesterday and they're supposed to be headed this way. Judge Travis said they were hell bent and lookin' to kill all of us," Dunne said.

"Did he say why?"

"No, he just says they are headed this way and that they were bragging about killing every member of the law in Four Corners. What are we gonna do, Chris?"

"I guess we're gonna ride out and meet Archer," Larabee said with a smile as he strode towards the table that housed Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington.

"Hey, Chris, welcome back. How was the trip?"

"The trip was fine, Buck, but it looks like we may have a problem."

"What sorta problem?" Tanner asked, his senses suddenly alert for trouble.

"Seems like Gord Archer and his gang are gunning for us. Travis caught hold of the rumor in Eagle Bend and sent word to JD. How would you boys feel about riding out to meet them?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Wilmington said with a grin. "How much time we got?"

"According to the wire they left early yesterday. I figure we better leave now if we want to catch them before they make it to town. Meet me at the livery," the blond leader said as he turned to the other members of his team. "You boys heard?" he asked.

"We certainly did, Chris, Archer is one mean son of a bitch and I'd hate to see what he'd do if his gang made it to Four Corners," Sanchez said as he set his empty glass back on the table.

"Then let's ride," the blond ordered and knew without looking that the other six were following closely behind him.

Gunshots greeted their ears as the seven rounded a bend in the road. They quickly dismounted and hurried to find cover. They were at a disadvantage because there was very little cover to protect them from the oncoming riders. The gang had the higher ground and could fire down on the seven lawmen.

Chris fired and was rewarded when one of the men yelped and fell from his horse, scattering the others and making them find cover. A bullet whistled past his right ear and he swore sharply. "On your left, Buck," he yelled as he spotted one of the gang moving towards the ladies man. Buck whirled and fired, grinning at the blond as his bullet found its mark in the outlaw's chest.

"JD, get yer head down!" Tanner yelled as he fired at a gunman trying to reach the youngest member of the seven.

"Thanks," JD yelled as he watched the man drop to the ground, a red stain blossoming on his chest.

"Nathan's been hit," Standish yelled as he watched the healer drop heavily to the ground, a barrage of gunshots making it impossible for him to reach the downed man.

"I got him," Sanchez said as he hurried to help the healer.

"Chris, they got us pinned down here," Buck yelled as he shot at an approaching outlaw.

"We've got to try and get in behind them," Larabee yelled as he took a shot at another advancing outlaw. He smiled as the man yelled and grabbed his arm.

"Any idea how we do that?" Wilmington asked.

"You got any of that dynamite you found in the old miner's shack yesterday?" the blond asked as a plan formulated in his mind.

"Might have a stick or two. Why?"

"Figure maybe I'd get above them and put some of those rocks between them and us. Maybe give us a chance to gain the high ground."

"That could work," Wilmington said, grabbing his arm as a bullet found it's way into his shoulder. "Damn!" he said as he gripped his bloodied arm.

"You alright, Buck?" JD cried.

"I'm fine, Kid, just keep yer damn fool head down before ya get it shot off," Wilmington ordered as a bullet ripped past the younger man's head.

"Where's the dynamite, Buck?" Larabee asked.

"On my horse," Wilmington answered and saw the concern in the gunslinger's eyes. "I'm okay, Chris. Get that dynamite and show us what ya got in mind."

"Keep me covered," Larabee said as he moved from his meager cover and headed for the horses. He ducked as a bullet tore splinters from a rock on his right, a few burying themselves in his forehead. He ignored the pain and unconsciously swiped at the blood as he made it to Wilmington's horse. He dug through the saddlebags in search of the dynamite. He heard the battle taking place and hoped they succeeded in taking the gang down before they lost any of their own team. He pushed the worry for Nathan and Buck and the rest of his friends to the back of his mind, knowing he needed to concentrate on what he was about to do.

Larabee made his way back to the battle, pausing to check on the healer, "How is he?"

"The bullet went right through," Sanchez said as he held a cloth to the wounds in front and back of the healer's thigh.

"I'm fine, Chris. How's Buck?"

"Took a bullet in the shoulder but he's still not out," the blond said with a grin.

"You hurt?" the healer asked as he noticed the trail of blood running from the leader's forehead.

"Just a scratch," the blond answered as he wiped the blood from his eyes.

"What are you gonna do with those?" Sanchez asked as he spotted the sticks of dynamite held tightly in the blond's hands.

"I figure it's time we took back the advantage. Going to send a few of those rocks down on top of em," he said, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "Keep me covered," he told Sanchez as he hurried back to the rock he'd been using for cover.

"Give me one of 'em," Tanner ordered as he watched his best friend move past him.

"I've got it, Vin," Larabee said as another barrage of bullets sounded around them.

"It might be better if'n we set 'em off together. Gives us a better chance of succeedin'."

"You're probably right, Vin, let's go," the leader said as he passed the younger man one of the explosives.

Vin Tanner was a natural climber, having spent most of his life in the outdoors. Chris knew from experience that the young man would find handholds that no one else would have thought to use. He followed the tracker up the slope, watching as the lean body slid from side to side as he easily made it to the top.

Vin stopped and took the matches from his pocket. Lighting the stick of Dynamite as he watched his friend make his way towards him. The fuse started to spark and the tracker stood up to throw the explosive.

Chris looked up as his friend stood and held the dynamite over his shoulder. A yell of surprise reached his ears as the younger man suddenly toppled backwards the dynamite flying over his shoulder to land a few feet away from where the blond stood.

Chris tried to move away, but the force of the explosion drove him backwards into a large rock that protruded from the hillside. A muffled cry of pain escaped his lips as the impact with the rock drove the air from his lungs.

Vin lay on the ground holding his injured arm, breathing raggedly as he tried to ignore the stabbing pain. He wondered why he didn't hear his friend coming towards him. He knew there was no way Chris could have missed his being shot and wondered what was keeping him. His mind replayed the last few minutes and he suddenly realized he hadn't thrown the dynamite where he was supposed to. The explosive had left his hand and landed behind him. "Chris," he screamed the name as he jumped to his feet, ignoring the powerful jolt of pain in his own arm. He looked around the ledge ignoring the sounds of the battle below him. His eyes raked over the rugged terrain in search of the one man who meant so much to him. "Oh, God," he cried as his eyes fell on the unmoving body of the blond. Moving as fast as he could he slipped across the hillside and sank down beside his friend. "Chris! Come on, Cowboy, answer me!" Tanner exclaimed.

"Vin," Larabee said as he opened his eyes and tried to move.

"Stay still, Chris," Tanner ordered, scared by the sudden fear that crept into his friend's eyes. "What?" he asked worriedly.

"I can't move my legs, Vin," the blond said as he struggled up on his elbows, pain flaring in his lower back.

"Just lie still!" Tanner warned as he sat beside his friend.

"Take the dynamite and finish the job, Tanner," Larabee ordered as heard the gunfire from below.

"In a minute. I want to check your back first," the tracker said.

"No, Vin, you have to finish it! Buck and the others need you. I'll be here when you get it done," Larabee said, a grimace of pain on his pale face.

"I can't Chris," Tanner said as he spotted the hated stick next to his friend's body.

"You have to, Vin!" Larabee hissed as he heard the gambler cry out. "They're gonna be killed down there."

"I...I..."

"Damnit, Vin, do it or so help me I'll make you sorry we ever met!" Larabee spat as his green eyes filled with smouldering anger.

"But..."

"No! Just do it now before the others are killed! I'll never forgive you if that happens, Vin. You're the only one who can save them. Please," the leader begged as he tried to ignore the growing discomfort in his back.

"Alright," Tanner said as he grabbed the small stick, the twin of the one that had damaged his friend. He stuffed the stick into his belt and made his way up the hill. It took longer to reach the summit because of the injury to his right arm. He slowly lit the fuse and once more stood to throw the explosive. This time there was no spark of pain as he threw the dynamite at the pile of loose rocks and rubble. He watched as the explosion loosened the pile even more and sent it flying down the hill. He was rewarded by the cries of alarm and pain from the outlaws who'd taken refuge below them. He watched as the remaining outlaws mounted their horses and raced away from the area.

"Vin, Chris, are you guys ok?" Wilmington's voice called from below, breaking through the tracker's thoughts.

"You did it! They're gone," Dunne shouted as he moved towards the base of the hill directly below the silent tracker.

"Vin, where's Chris?" Wilmington asked, worried that he saw only one man standing above them. "Vin!" he repeated as he started up the hill.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Wilmington," Standish said as he joined Buck and JD at the base. "Perhaps I could be of some assistance," he said as he pressed a cloth to the bullet graze on his head.

"You sure you can manage it?" Wilmington asked.

"Ezra, stay where you are. I'll check on Chris and Vin," Sanchez said as he helped a limping Nathan Jackson towards the group.

"I'm fine, Mr. Sanchez," Standish said, but staggered as the words left his mouth. "Perhaps not," he said and sank to the ground.

"All of you wait here," the ex preacher ordered as he looked at the battered group. "JD, make sure they do as they're told."

"Sure, Josiah," the sheriff said as he helped Buck sit next to the healer, who was examining the wound to Standish's head.

Josiah began climbing the hill as lithely as Tanner had done not long before. He reached the spot where the stick of dynamite exploded and his eyes were drawn to the man dressed in black lying ten feet away. He looked up at the unmoving tracker and wondered what happened. He turned back to the leader and crawled sideways towards him. The gunslinger's face was covered in sweat and dirt; his eyes clenched tight, causing lines to crease his brow. "Chris," Sanchez said as he tore a piece from his shirt and wiped the blood from the man's forehead. He knew the tiny wound was not the source of the pain that showed on his face.

"Josiah, everyone ok?" Larabee asked through clenched teeth.

"Everyone's fine thanks to you and Vin. A few knocks but they'll make it. Now where are you hurt?" he asked.

"My back. C...can't seem to move my legs. Where's Vin?"

"He's up top. Probably making sure Archer and his bunch are gone. Here he comes now," Sanchez said as he worriedly examined the blond.

"Christ, Vin, why didn't ya say you were hurt?" Larabee asked as he once again tried to get up, groaning as the effort brought the pain slamming back.

"Easy, Chris, just lie still for a minute until I check your back. How bad is it, Vin?" Sanchez asked as he noticed the blood soaked tracker.

"It's fine," the young man answered in a quiet, unemotional voice. He slowly knelt beside his friend, his face unreadable as he felt the guilt of Chris Larabee's injury weigh heavily on his mind.

"Chris, I'm gonna reach under your back and see if I can find out what the problem is. Think you can stand my touch for a couple of minutes?" Sanchez asked.

The blond nodded his head, his face a grimace of pure agony as Josiah Sanchez slipped his hand underneath his back.

Josiah slid his hand along the leader's lower back, hiding his fear at the wet sticky substance he encountered. Slowly he withdrew his hand and tried to hide the evidence before the other two men saw it.

"Josiah?" Chris asked and Sanchez realized he hadn't been fast enough.

"I'm gonna need some help to see just how bad it is. Vin, can you go down and send JD up here?"

"I can do it, Josiah," Tanner said as he held his friend's shoulders.

"No, Vin, you're hurt," Larabee hissed through clenched teeth.

"I said I'm fine, Chris, now you just hang on and let me and Josiah look after you," the tracker said, his voice still without emotion.

"Vin, we're gonna have enough to deal with as it is. Besides you won't be able to hold him still with that arm and he won't be able to stand it if you let him fall back," Sanchez said. "Go send JD up here and then turn that mind of yours towards thinking of a way to get Chris down from here and back to town."

Tanner looked into the pain filled green eyes of his friend, guilt gnawed at his insides as he realized he was the one who'd put the pain in them. Without a word he turned from the older man and stumbled down the hill towards the group waiting below.

"Something ain't right with him, Josiah," Larabee hissed.

"He'll be fine, Brother, it's you we need to worry about right now. Can you move your legs at all?"

Chris concentrated on moving his legs, but gave up after a few minutes, shaking his head in frustration as he lay back against the hard ground, breathing rapidly from the exertion. "Can't," he said simply.

"JD, Josiah needs you to help him with Chris," Tanner said as he joined the others.

"Ok," the young sheriff said and hurried up the hill.

"Vin, what's wrong with Chris?" Wilmington asked, his hand on his injured shoulder.

"I hurt him," Tanner said softly as his mind replayed the first sight of his friend's prone body.

"What do ya mean ya hurt him?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"Hurt his back. My fault. Threw the dynamite the wrong way," Tanner said as he walked away from the others.

"Vin, get back here and sit down. I need to take a look at that shoulder!" Jackson ordered from his perch on a small, upended tree stump.

"Shoulder's fine," Tanner said, stopping and gazing up the hill as JD Dunne reached Sanchez and Larabee.

"No it's not and it's still bleeding. Now get back here ya damn fool!" Jackson snapped impatiently.

Tanner turned back towards the healer and slowly walked towards him. Nathan Jackson hated the blank look he saw on the younger man's face. He seemed to have withdrawn from them and Nathan wondered what happened to cause the tracker to do so.

"What do you need me to do, Josiah?" Dunne asked. "Hey, Chris, you alright?"

"Fine," Larabee lied.

"Chris."

"Yeah, Josiah."

"This may get a little uncomfortable but I need to see just how bad it is," Sanchez said.

"I hate it when Nathan says a little uncomfortable. It usually means it's gonna hurt like hell. Alright, Josiah, let's get it done," Larabee said.

"JD, I want you to let him rest against you when I lift him up."

"Sure, Josiah," Dunne said, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Ready, Chris?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Larabee said, shutting his eyes against the oncoming pain he'd have to endure.

Sanchez lifted the injured man as gently as possible, ignoring the small moans that crept past the leader's mouth. After what felt like an eternity he had Chris leaning against the youngest member of the group, his injured back visible for Sanchez's perusal. Slowly he lifted the blood soaked black duster to reveal the torn black shirt. He winced as he saw the large gash running from hip to hip. The cut was shallow in places running deeper towards the middle, blood welling up and flowing down the man's back to well up at the waist of his black jeans.

Again he ignored the muffled cries of pain as he lifted the shirt away from the wound. The worst part seemed to be in the center, close to the spine. Here the wound was deep and open, dark purple bruises spreading outwards from this central point. He ripped his own shirt and placed the material against the wound hoping to stop the continued loss of blood.

"How b...bad, Josiah?" Larabee gasped.

"Ain't gonna lie to ya, Brother. You got one hell of a cut on your back. Lots of bruises as well. I'm gonna have to get Nathan's kit and see if I can stop the bleeding. You think you can lie on your side for me?"

"Think so," the blond answered.

"I can hold him, Josiah," Dunne said as he felt the tremors in his mentor's body.

"Let's just lay him down on his side," Sanchez said as he slowly lowered Chris Larabee onto his side, placing his head in JD's lap. "You stay still, Chris," Sanchez ordered.

"Don't seem to have much choice," Larabee said as he closed his eyes and tried to ride out the sharp pain in his back.

"JD, make sure he stays where he is," Sanchez ordered.

"I will, Josiah," JD said and unconsciously flicked at a strand of sweat soaked blond hair. "You ok, Chris?" he asked.

"Fine, JD," Larabee answered in his usual way. "What's wrong with Nathan and the others?" he asked, knowing something was keeping the healer from coming up to check on him.

JD knew he wouldn't be able to lie to the injured man so he began listing off the injuries, "Nathan took a bullet in the leg. Ezra's head was grazed. Buck and Vin both took one in the shoulder."

"Damn! What about you, JD?" Larabee asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, Chris, not even a scratch," Dunne reassured the older man.

"G...good!" Larabee hissed as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard, slanted ground.

"Stay still, Chris," Dunne warned, watching as Chris's hands clenched in the folds of his duster.

"How is he, Josiah?" Jackson asked, surprised that the young tracker didn't ask first.

"His back's bad, Nathan, and he's in a lot of pain. There's a lot of bruises and one hell of a cut running along his lower back, just above the waist. He can't seem to move his legs."

"Damn, get me up there," Jackson ordered as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Don't be foolish, Nate, it's too steep. I need your medical kit and we need to figure a way to get him off that hill."

"Alright, Josiah. We'll figure something out. Can he move at all?"

"He's moving his arms and head and everything else above the waist," Sanchez said as he took the medical kit from the healer.

"How bad is the cut?" Jackson asked, knowing the others were leaving it to him to get the information he needed to help their friend.

"It's shallow except in the middle. He's probably gonna need stitches. We're gonna need a wagon to get him back to town."

"I can ride," Standish offered.

"How's the head?" Jackson asked.

"Fine, no dizziness or blurred vision," Standish answered.

"Alright, Ezra, you ride into Four Corners and bring back a wagon and see if you can get some of the men to come help us out here," Jackson said as he watched Standish make his way to his horse. "Oh, Ezra, send a wire to Eagle Bend and see if Dr. Metcalf can lend us a hand for a few days," Jackson said as the pain in his own leg intensified.

"I shall endeavor to carry out your request without delay," Standish said as he hurried off.

"I have to get back to, Chris," Sanchez said. "How's he?" he asked, indicating the quiet tracker sitting off on his own.

"He's shouldering the guilt of what happened to Chris," Jackson said.

"Figured as much. Guilt and Vin Tanner go hand in hand when it comes to Chris Larabee," Sanchez said as he hurried towards the hill.

"Josiah, give him some Laudanum for the pain," Jackson told the retreating man.

"Josiah's coming back, Chris," Dunne said.

"O...kay," the blond mumbled, barely conscious.

"How are you feeling," JD asked continuing his constant litany in order to keep the blonds mind off his pain.

"Been better, JD," Chris told him, groaning loudly as a fierce throbbing pain stung his lower back.

"Chris, I have something here I need you to take," Sanchez said as he reached the two men and knelt beside the fallen leader.

"What is it?"

"Laudanum, just a little now so I can work on your back," Sanchez explained as he placed a small bottle in front of the gunslingers mouth.

Larabee gazed into the ex-preacher's eyes. He was on the verge of refusing but the pain in his lower back made him reconsider as JD helped lift his head. Chris swallowed the noxious liquid, grimacing from the taste. "How is everyone?" he asked weakly.

"Well Nathan's been playin' doctor and he managed to fix up Buck's shoulder. It'll do till we get to town. The bullet went right through Nathan's leg but he won't be standing on it anytime soon. Ezra was grazed by a bullet but nothing serious. He's gone back to town to get a wagon."

"Vin?"

"He's being his usual stubborn pig-headed self," Sanchez grinned.

"Blames himself," Larabee said, as his eyes grew heavy. "Did Nate look at his shoulder?"

"Not yet. The damned fool won't let anyone help him right now. You stop worryin' about Vin. I'm gonna clean the wound in your back now and I need you to stay real still for me. Think you can do that?"

"I'll try, Josiah," Larabee groaned, closing his eyes.

"JD, you keep him quiet for a minute," the ex-preacher ordered as he lifted the edge of the black duster. He used a clean cloth and began to wash the area around the wound.

Dunne swallowed worriedly as he watched the older man's hands work on the wound. The cloth came away soaked in the gunslinger's blood. "Josiah, is it still bleeding?"

"Not as much as it was, JD. How're you doing, Chris?" Sanchez asked as the gunslinger craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at the ex-preacher.

Larabee smiled weakly as his eye's met the older mans. "Okay," he gasped as he felt a cloth pressed against the seeping wound.

"JD, I'm gonna need your help now, Son."

"What do you want me to do, Josiah?"

"I'm gonna lift Chris up a bit and I need you to wrap this bandage around him," Sanchez ordered. "Think you can do it?"

"Sure," Dunne answered as he took the white cloth from the older man.

"Alright, Chris, just hang onto my arms and I'll lift you forward."

Larabee placed his hands on the ex-preacher's arms and clenched his teeth as he was lifted away from JD. He bit back a scream as the pain in his back increased with each upward movement.

"JD, come on, Son, get it done," Sanchez ordered.

"Huh? Oh sorry," Dunne apologized and carefully wrapped the bandage around his mentor's waist.

"Make sure it's tight, JD," Josiah warned, ignoring the gasps of pain issuing from the injured blond.

"All done," JD cried as he finished tying off the ends.

"T...thanks," the gunslinger gasped as Josiah laid his head back against the younger man's lap. It wasn't long before the laudanum did its work and the blond succumbed to unconsciousness.

The ex-preacher picked up one of the clean bandages and poured water onto it from the canteen. He slowly began wiping the beads of perspiration from the sweat soaked forehead. The heat emanating from the man had little to do with the heat of the day. Josiah knew from experience that Larabee was already sporting a fever. The small cut on his forehead had finally stopped bleeding and he washed the remainder of the blood away.

"How's he doing, Josiah?" Jackson called from the base of the hill.

"Not too well, Nathan. I think I got the bleeding stopped but he's got a hell of a fever already."

"Damn! Ezra better hurry up with that wagon," Wilmington cursed his own injury and his inability to help his friend.

"Vin, get over here right now!" Jackson ordered as he saw the tracker's face contort in pain.

"I did that to him," the tracker whispered as he looked up the hill.

Wilmington swore at the sorrowful voice of the sharpshooter, "Vin, it wasn't your fault. Damn, Son, you got shot. Do you really think Chris is gonna hold that against you?"

"He will if'n he can't walk no more," Tanner glared at Wilmington, tears in his eyes.

"He's gonna walk again, Vin. Ya gotta believe that. I ain't givin' up on him and neither should you."

"Ya didn't see him, Buck. Ya didn't hear his voice when he said he couldn't move his legs. He sounded scared for a minute and that jest ain't Chris," Tanner said as he stood up and held his hand to his shoulder.

"Vin, let Nate have a look at ya till we get back to town," Wilmington ordered.

"Ain't goin' back ta town, Buck. Ain't nothin' there fer me now. Not since I crippled my best friend," Tanner said as he swayed drunkenly towards his horse.

"Never thought you were a coward, Tanner."

Wilmington's deadly whisper cut through the tracker's self recrimination and the younger man strode purposefully towards him. "Ain't no coward, Wilmington!"

"What else would you call it? You're runnin' out just when the man you call your best friend needs you most."

"Shut up, Buck!" Tanner shouted.

"Hey you two pipe down. Vin get over here. I ain't in the mood for none of your foolishness," Jackson yelled.

"Well, it's your call, Tanner. Let Nate help you or run out like a coward," Wilmington said calmly.

"How do I face him, Buck," the tracker asked in a defeated voice.

"That's easy, Pard. The hard parts gonna be facin' yourself. You're gonna have to realize what happened was an accident and Chris is gonna need you there to help him. I hate to say it, Vin, but you're the only one who can make him slow down and do as he's told. You're kin to him, Son, and he listens to you whether you realize it or not. Now what's it gonna be?"

Tanner looked up the hill, his eyes falling on the three silent figures fifty or so feet above them. Slowly turning away he walked the few feet and sat beside Nathan Jackson.

"Bout damn time you came to your senses, Vin. Now let me see what kinda damage you done to this by not lettin' me look at it right away," Jackson said as he helped the younger man out of his buckskin jacket. "It's a wonder you can still stand, all the blood you lost. Buck, hold this to his arm till I see if there's an exit wound."

"Ain't no exit wound," Tanner grated out as Jackson put pressure on the shoulder.

"Damn fool," Jackson swore as the tracker slid the rest of the way to the ground. "Gimme a hand here, Buck," the healer ordered.

"What do you need me to do, Nate?"

"Just keep pressure here for a minute."

"You gonna take that bullet out?"

"I'm gonna give it a try," Jackson told him. "Josiah, can you bring my kit down here?"

"What's wrong, Nate?" came the answering shout.

"Gotta get the bullet outta Vin's shoulder."

Sanchez looked down at the gunslinger as the man's eyes opened.

"Vin. Shot. Help him, Josiah," his pain filled voice gasped.

"You have to stay real still, Chris. JD, you make sure he doesn't try to move around."

"I will, Josiah," Dunne told him.

"Tell V...Vin I a...ain't mad," Larabee said as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

"He knows, Brother, he knows. JD, call if he needs anything."

"Ok, Josiah," the kid said and watched Sanchez move quickly down the hill.

"Buck, you get outta the way now, ya hear? You only got one good arm and I don't want to have to redo all that hard work. Josiah, hold him still and I'll see if I can get the bullet."

"You sure you want to try this, Nathan?"

"Don't have much choice, Josiah. He's still losin' blood and I don't think we can wait for the doc from Eagle Bend."

"Alright, Nate, whenever you're ready," Sanchez told him.

"Hold him down," Jackson ordered as he began probing the swollen wound.

A knifing pain suddenly dispatched the warm blanket he'd been languishing in and he tried to bolt upright.

"Steady there, Vin. Nathan's just gonna get rid of the bullet in your shoulder. Figure you'll feel a lot better without the added lead," Sanchez said softly. His hands keeping the younger man pinned.

"H...hurts, J...Josiah," the weak voice cried out as Nathan gave one final tug and pulled the bullet free.

"Got it, Vin," Jackson said, his voice betraying the pain he felt from his own wound. "Help me bandage it, Josiah. Then we're gonna need to secure his arm to his chest so he don't jostle it around too much."

JD sat with the three sleeping men at the base of the hill. Josiah sent him down when he returned from helping Jackson. He looked at his three charges, relieved that they all seemed to be resting. Once in a while a small moan or gasp would escape one of the injured men and he'd give him a drink of the tepid water in his canteen and watch them drift back to sleep. His eyes would then sweep the road looking for sign of Standish's return. He lifted his eyes and looked towards the two men fifty feet above. He'd heard Josiah's soft lilting voice as he spoke to the injured man he held.

Dunne's glance fell on the tracker. He seemed so vulnerable in his sleep. JD always thought of Vin as being one of the older men but seeing him as he now was brought home just how close they were in age. He knew there couldn't be more than five or six years between them yet Vin had seen and done so much more than he had.

"V...Vin, NO!"

"Hey there, Chris, 'bout time you rejoined us," Sanchez said as he watched the younger man's face contort in pain.

"J...Josiah?" the blond asked as he opened his eyes.

"How you feeling?" Sanchez inquired, smiling at the gunslinger.

"Not to g...good r...right now, Josiah," he groaned and tried to move.

"Don't try to move around, Chris. You don't want to set that wound bleeding again," Sanchez told him.

"Damn, J...Josiah. F...feels like my b...backs on fire," the blond gasped.

"You've got to try and stay as still as possible till help gets here, Chris."

"I'm t...trying. H...how are the others? Vin?"

"Nathan took the bullet out of his shoulder. JD's down there with them now and they seem to be sleeping which is something you should be doing," Sanchez told him.

"The kid ok?"

"The kid's doing fine. He's looking after those three and doing a great job of it."

"Damn, J...Josiah," Larabee cried as he tried to sit up.

"No you don't. Lie still. Here take a little of this," Sanchez said as he placed the almost empty bottle of Laudanum to the moaning man's mouth. Chris swallowed the last of the liquid and waited for the relief it usually brought.

The ex-preacher saw the grimace of pain on the gunslinger's face and took his hand in his own. "Concentrate on my hand, Chris. Squeeze it if you have to," he ordered and almost immediately felt the other man's grip tighten.

"Josiah, I think Ezra's coming back," Dunne's excited voice broke through the fist of pain that held the gunslinger in its grip.

"You hear that, Chris? Helps on the way. Now you just relax and we'll have you off this hill in no time."

"T...thanks, Josiah," the blond gasped, his eyes clenched tightly against the onslaught of more pain.

Sanchez watched as a small contingent of men hurried towards them. Ezra Standish rode ahead of the column. Two wagons came into view and Sanchez smiled as he made out the form of Mary Travis at the reins of the first one and Yosemite driving the other. Four other men from town rode on horseback and Sanchez was grateful for the help.

Mary stopped the wagon directly in front of the wounded men, her worried gaze searching for the blond gunslinger. Her eyes drifted up the hill, coming to rest on the two dark forms there, 'Chris,' she thought, biting her bottom lip.

Nathan Jackson opened his eyes, relieved to see help had finally arrived. Even in his own weakened state he gave orders on how to proceed. "Get Vin and Buck into one of the wagons. Then we gotta see about getting Chris down off the damn hill."

"Nathan, there's nothing you can do right now except let the men get you in one of the wagons. Yosemite and the others will help Josiah bring Chris down," Mary assured him.

"I can ride my horse," Wilmington hissed as he was helped to his feet.

"Oh no you don't, Buck! You and Vin are going to ride in the back of a wagon," Mary ordered, placing her hands on her hips. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Wilmington smiled, not wanting to admit just how lousy he felt.

Vin Tanner opened his eyes and looked around, his eyes finally focusing on the newcomers. "We gotta get Chris," he rasped.

"You're not doing anything except letting us put you in the wagon," Mary ordered.

"I'm fine," Tanner lied.

"And I don't have time to listen to anyone else saying I'm fine. Now all of you listen up. I'm not going to listen to anyone with a bullet hole or any other wound for that matter and that goes for you too Nathan Jackson. Right now the only people I'll listen to are Josiah and JD. Yosemite get them into the wagons," Mary ordered.

"M...Mary...here?"

Sanchez gazed into the glazed green eyes. "Yes, she is and it looks like she's taken charge."

"D...damn wish I c...could see that."

"You're going to get your wish. She's on her way up here with Tiny and Willy," the ex-preacher told him, relieved to see the two men carrying a flat door between them.

"Josiah, how is he?"

"Hi M...Mary," the gunslinger grated through clenched teeth as he tried to lift his head off the other man's lap.

"Lie still, Chris," Mary ordered.

"Not much choice there," he told her.

"Chris, we're going to put you on the board and get you down from here," Sanchez told him. "You just relax and let us do everything, okay?"

"Okay, Josiah," Larabee answered, fisted hands tightly held against his sides as he felt his body lifted onto the board. Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes as it seeped through his half opened lids.

Mary watched the handsome face contort in pain as the three men lifted him off the ground and onto the makeshift stretcher. Her heart ached as she watched him struggle to keep from crying out.

"Tiny, you and Willy hold that end. Chris, we'll have you down in a few minutes."

The gunslinger heard the words but couldn't find the strength to answer him. He floated on a sea of misery as he fought to stem the growing pain flaring in his back.

Six men watched from below as Josiah, Tiny, and Willy lifted the door and slowly made their way down the hill. The muffled cries of pain reached the ears of each man and they knew this was a ride in torment for Chris Larabee.

'I did that to him. My fault! Oh, God, I'm sorry, Chris!' Tanner thought as he slid from the wagon and tried to go to his friend.

"Vin, stay here. You'll just be in the way," Jackson ordered, his own voice filled with worry as he watched the men pick their way carefully down the hill.

The tracker stopped where he was, knowing in his heart the healer was right, but unable to stop the agonizing pain in his heart at the sight of the group coming towards him. "Chris," he screamed as Willy lost his footing and it seemed the others would follow him to the ground. An audible sigh of relief came from everyone's lips, as Josiah and Tiny were able to hold their footing and keep the blond from being injured further.

The waiting men held their collective breaths as the three finished the trip down the hill. By the time they reached the bottom and placed Chris in the wagon with Nathan, the blond was covered in sweat, his face drawn up in a tight grimace, and his hands still clenched tightly at his side.

"Ezra, did you send a telegram to Eagle Bend?"

"I did, Mr. Jackson, but we didn't wait around for an answer."

"Did you tell him about Chris?"

"I did indeed. I also informed him there were others injured as well. I thought you could all use some of this," he grinned as he held up the tiny bottle of laudanum.

"Thank you, Ezra," Jackson said gratefully as he turned his attention to the pale, trembling form next to him. "Chris?"

"Y...yeah," came the weak reply.

"We're going to head back to Four Corners. Now I'm goin to give you a little more laudanum. Hopefully it'll make the trip a bit easier on you."

"W...where's, Vin?" the gunslinger asked as he opened his eyes and sought out the slim form of the tracker.

"R...right here, Chris," Tanner answered from the side of the wagon.

"Y...you alright?"

"I'm fine," Tanner answered in a quiet tone.

"N...not fine. I k...know you, V...Vin. N...o guilt. N...not your f...fault," he groaned as his body was awash with new pain.

"Chris, take this," Jackson ordered.

Larabee lifted his head and opened his eyes as he looked around at his friends, taking careful note of the injuries his men had received at the hands of the gang of outlaws. "Buck, y...you okay?"

"Fine, Chris, you do what Nathan says and take the Laudanum."

The green eyes came to rest on the healer. "Nathan, you a...alright?"

"I'm fine, Chris."

Larabee laughed weakly as he closed his eyes. "Y...you're as bad as the r...rest of us."

"Chris, open up," Jackson ordered, a small smile on his face as the truth of the gunslingers words sank in. He'd just told them he was fine when he actually felt lousy.

Larabee swallowed a small amount of the liquid. "T...the rest of y...you n...need it too," his eyes snapped open as he remembered the other injured man. "Ezra, okay?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Larabee, nothing but a small laceration."

"Glad e...everyone's f...fine cause I feel like shit," he groaned as he let the encroaching darkness flood over him. His last conscious thought was of Mary and he hoped his language wouldn't offend her.

The ride back to town was slow as JD, Josiah, Ezra, and Mary kept checking on the injured men. Chris seemed to sleep through the long, uncomfortable ride, only the low moans telling the others he was actually aware of the motion of the wagon.

Finally the tiny street fires came into view. A welcome sight to the group of weary travellers. The wagons pulled up in front of Nathan Jackson's clinic.

"Nathan, I'm going to get Inez and see if we can make up some sandwiches for all of you," Mary told him as she left her horse tied to the hitching post.

"Thanks, Mary, that would be great. Vin, Buck, I want you two up in the clinic. Josiah, you and Yosemite carry Chris upstairs and put him on the bed. Ezra, I want to check the wound on your head. JD, go check with Mrs. Potter and see if there's been any word from Dr. Metcalf. The rest of you round up as many bandages as you can and bring me fresh water as well."

"Nathan..."

"Vin, don't argue with me. My legs hurting something fierce right now and I ain't in the mood to listen to how fine you are. You and Buck just get upstairs till I get a chance to look at you," Jackson's patience with stubborn men had finally reached its limit as Josiah and Yosemite lifted the door from the wagon and carried the sleeping gunslinger up the stairs.

Nathan slid towards the edge of the wagon, unsure if he'd be able to stand on his own two feet. He landed on the ground, groaning as pain lanced through the wound.

"Lean on me, Nathan."

Jackson smiled at the youngest member of the team. "Thanks, JD, just get me up to the clinic and then go check with Mrs. Potter."

"I will," Dunne assured him as they slowly climbed the stairs behind Tanner and Wilmington.

Sanchez met them at the top and wrapped his arm around the healer's waist, supporting him into the clinic.

"I'll be right back," Dunne said and relinquished care of the healer to the older man before hurrying from the clinic.

Josiah slid Jackson into the chair they'd placed beside the bed Larabee rested on. "You all right, Nathan?" Sanchez asked.

"Not really, Josiah but I need to check everyone over before I take my own advice," the healer told him. "Can you and Yosemite turn Chris on his stomach. I need to see what kind of damage he's done. Just be careful."

"Yosemite, help me out here," Sanchez ordered and the two men gently turned the now semi-conscious man on his stomach.

"W...where..."

"You're at Nathan's clinic, Chris. Now just lie still and let him take a look at you."

"J...Josiah, everyone ok?"

"Everyone's fine," the ex-preacher assured him.

"Nathan, are you alright?" Tanner asked as he watched the healer's face suddenly go slack.

Sanchez caught Jackson as he slid from the chair.

"Damn, Josiah, put him over here," Wilmington ordered and stood away from the bed. He looked from the now unconscious healer to the conscious gunslinger. 'What more?' he thought as JD hurried into the room.

"Mrs. Potter said Dr. Metcalf would be here sometime late tomorrow afternoon," the youth explained breathlessly. "What's wrong with Nathan?" he asked.

"Nathan was shot too, Kid," Tanner explained as he knelt beside the bed where the blond was trembling uncontrollably.

"He's n...not d..."

"No, kid, he's not dead. Just exhausted and running a fever," Wilmington explained as he watched Sanchez care for the healer. The other men returned with the bandages, ice and anything they thought might be useful in treating the injured peacekeepers.

Josiah set about changing the healer's bandages before turning back to the other bed. "Chris," he said as he knelt on the opposite side of the bed from the pale tracker.

"Is Nathan ok?" the blond asked.

"He's going to be fine."

"L...lied about b...being fine," Larabee's pain filled eyes showed a trace of amusement.

"He did at that," the older man laughed. "Seems like we've been rubbing off on him. I'm going to check your back and change the bandages."

"Okay," the injured man moaned as Sanchez and Tanner pulled his duster from him. As gently as possible they removed his shirt by cutting down the center instead of trying to lift him.

Tanner stifled a gasp as he got his first look at the injuries to the gunslinger's back. He knew Chris must've sliced it against the sharp rocks as he was thrown backwards. Deep purple and black bruises surrounded the open wound. "Damn,' he groaned aloud as he closed his eyes against the all too vivid memories of the gunslinger lying so still against the rocks. He opened his eyes as a hand rested on his shoulder.

"T...told you i...it's not y...your fault," Larabee gasped reassuringly.

"Yes it is, Chris. I'm the one who dropped the dynamite. Shoulda been more careful."

"You were shot, Brother. Not much you could've done to stop what happened."

"A...accident, Vin," Larabee locked his gaze on the pain filled blue eyes, sending the truth of his words through the strong resonance.

"Vin, let Yosemite in there. I'm gonna need his help keeping Chris still."

"I can do it, Josiah."

"I don't doubt you could, but I don't want to be the one explaining to Nathan why your arm's bleeding again."

"It's ok, Vin," Larabee assured him.

"I'll be right here, Cowboy," Tanner promised, standing behind Yosemite as he slid into place and held Larabee's upper body still. His eyes turned to the gunslingers legs as Sanchez cleaned and bandaged the wound. The lack of movement from the lower half of his friend's body once more reminded Vin of the reason for his guilty feelings. 'Should never have happened,' he thought angrily.

Two hours later found Josiah Sanchez and JD Dunne keeping watch over the five injured peacekeepers. Chris and Nathan occupied the bed and the cot but they'd managed to get the others placed around the room on makeshift bedrolls. Mary and Inez had brought sandwiches and broth to the clinic. It took some doing, but they managed to get something into each man. Even Chris swallowed a small amount of broth and a partial cup of one of Nathan's teas. Josiah was equally grateful to the two women for their help in caring for each of the men. Nathan roused long enough to accept some broth as well as one of his own teas, quietly remarking that he now understood why the others called it horse piss among other things.

Ezra Standish finally admitted to suffering from a headache and blurred vision and Sanchez ordered him to stay where they could keep an eye on him.

Chris, Nathan, and Vin were sporting fevers and the two healthy peacekeepers spent the night trying to cool them down. By morning all but Larabee's fever had dissipated and Jackson was now sitting beside him once more. Chris cried out in his delirium as Sanchez removed the bandages covering the lower half of the gunslingers back.

"Dammit, I shoulda taken care of this last night," the healer swore, not liking the redness and swelling surrounding the wound.

"You're only human, Nathan," Sanchez assured him.

Jackson swallowed the anger he felt at his own weakness and set about making the gunslinger more comfortable. "What time did Mrs. Potter say we could expect Dr. Metcalf?"

"Sometime late this afternoon," Sanchez answered.

"I'm gonna drain the wound and leave it open. My hands are not steady enough to put in the stitches this is gonna need."

"Dr. Metcalf can put the stitches in when he arrives, Nathan," the ex-preacher assured him as he watched the healer gently prod the gunslinger's injury.

Chris felt the hands touching his back and cried out. "Do...don't," he gasped as more pressure was applied.

"Easy now, Chris. Nathan's gonna fix you right up."

Larabee opened his eyes and turned his head towards the healer. "Nathan, are you okay now?"

"Yeah, Chris, I'm okay. Now you just be quiet and we'll have you fixed up in no time."

"Everyone else ok?"

"Everyone's fine, Chris. We sent them out for something to eat. All done," Jackson said as he gently placed a clean cloth over the wound. "Josiah, can you bring me over the tea."

"Sure, Nathan," Sanchez said as he poured some of the healing liquid into a cup, returning to the bed he handed it to Jackson and lifted Larabee's head.

"Hell, Nathan, can't I have whiskey instead?"

"Not now, Chris," Jackson answered. The awkward angle made it difficult to drink but they managed to get most of the tea into the injured gunslinger before he slumped back to the bed.

"Nathan, how bad?"

Jackson looked at his long time friend. This was the one man he couldn't hide anything from. "It's not good, Josiah. The wound itself is bad enough but with all the swelling it's putting pressure on his spine."

"Will he be able to walk once the swelling goes down?"

"We won't know for sure until that time comes. If it's something more than swelling there may not be anything we can do."

"Are you saying he may never walk again?"

"It's something we may have to face at a later date. Right now we need to keep him still until Dr. Metcalf gets here," Jackson rubbed his eyes, his head suddenly pounding unmercifully.

"I think we'd better get you back to bed," Sanchez said as he helped his friend to his feet and led him to the empty cot.

Vin let his body slide heavily down the wall as he replayed the conversation between the two men inside the clinic. He suddenly felt cold, his body losing the warmth it usually held as the chilling words wrapped his body in an ice-cold blanket. He shivered fiercely as tears threatened to fall from his dull blue eyes. 'Oh, God, Cowboy, I didn't mean for this to happen. You gotta walk,' he thought as he struck at his own healthy legs. "I'd give up my own if I thought it would help!" he whispered as he sat outside the clinic.

Gord Archer slammed his fist into the side of the wall. "Those sons a bitches will pay for messing with us."

"What're we gonna do, Gord?"

"We're gonna go after them and string them up like the mangy law dogs they are, Brad. I want to watch every single one of em hanging from a tree, their lifeless bodies being pecked at by the vultures. Godammit they killed my brother and they're gonna pay."

"We've lost more than just your brother, Gord. We've lost half the gang."

"Don't you think I know that?" Archer shouted angrily.

"Then maybe we should rethink our plans."

"No! I want them dead and by God I'm gonna do it if it costs me everything I got. If any of you ain't got the guts to stick with me then ya'd better get out of here before I kill ya like the cowards ya are. All of ya would be dead if it wasn't for me and my brother."

"We're not gonna run out on you, Gord," Brad Weston assured his friend and leader. "We just need a little time to make a new plan."

"I got a new plan," Archer grinned malevolently.

"You gonna let the rest of us in on it?"

"The only one who wasn't with us was Rich. Send him to Four Corners to find out if we got any of them law dogs."

"Then what?"

"Then we're gonna bring our own brand of vengeance down on the little town of Four Corners and take care of any of em that are still movin' and to hell with anyone who gets in our way," Archer laughed as he watched Rich gallop away. "Soon Larabee and his gang won't be around to interfere in my plans anymore."

"Mr. Tanner, may I enquire as to the reason why you're sitting on the floor when there's a perfectly acceptable chair right here?"

The tracker lifted his red-rimmed eyes and stared into the green eyes of the gambler, "I'm fine where I am," he snapped. "Don't need no chairs, been hangin' round this place to long and it's makin' me soft."

"Are you planning on leaving our fair town?" Standish asked, hiding the worry he felt at the other man's tone.

"Gonna go do what I was plannin' fore I came ta this place."

"I was under the impression that was something you and Mr. Larabee were planning to do together."

"Chris don't need me around, Ez. He don't need someone who turned him into a cripple. Havin' me walkin' around's just gonna remind him of what I done ta him," Tanner rasped.

"Vin, you didn't do anything to him."

"How can you say that, Ez. I may have crippled my best friend. Do you understand that? Chris may never walk again and I did that to him."

"Mr. Larabee doesn't blame you for any of this, Vin."

"I blame myself, Ez. I should've been more careful. I know how to handle dynamite and I made a mistake. A mistake that may cause Chris the use of his legs," Tanner snarled as he stood up. "Hell, he might even die."

The door opened behind them and Josiah Sanchez looked out. He looked at the serious faces on the two men before speaking. "Vin, Ezra, is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, Josiah. How's Chris?" the sharpshooter asked.

"He's awake and asking for you."

The tracker held his arm against his chest, the sling keeping it steady as he stepped into the darkened clinic. He looked to the cot where the healer slept, not surprised to see the lines of pain there. He turned his head and his eyes came to rest on the figure lying on his stomach in the bed, a thin blanket covering him.

Larabee heard the door open and felt someone enter the room. Without opening his eyes he knew Vin Tanner, whose very presence he could always sense, had entered the clinic. He opened pain-glazed eyes and lifted his head slightly. "Vin, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Chris."

The gunslinger's instincts kicked in and he knew something was bothering the younger man. "Vin, what's wrong?"

Tanner sat in the chair next to the bed, cradling his injured arm. "Just a little tired, Cowboy."

Green eyes met blue and the tracker knew the gunslinger was reading him like an open book. Larabee was the one man he couldn't hide things from. Their friendship had started with a simple glance and nod of the head, but had quickly grown to a point where they could almost tell what the other was going to say before he opened his mouth.

"Vin," Larabee tried to push up on the bed, gasping in pain as he twisted the stiffening wound in his back.

"Stay down, Chris," the tracker warned, placing one hand on the blond's shoulder.

"What's wrong, Vin?" Larabee asked again, but the tracker didn't answer as the door opened and an elderly man walked in.

Thomas Metcalf entered the little clinic and glanced at the three men present. Two lying prone on the beds, the other sitting awkwardly in a chair, his arm held close to his body. "I hear there's someone in need of some medical attention here," he smiled, the warmth adding a depth of caring to the heavily whiskered face.

"Hi, Doc," Tanner said, recognizing the friendly man from Eagle Bend.

"You fella's been at it again I see. How many injured this time?" Metcalf laughed as he stepped up to the bed housing the dark skinned healer.

"Me and Buck got hit in the shoulder, Nathan took one in the leg, and Ezra's head was grazed by a bullet."

Metcalf felt Jackson's head, relieved when he found no heat rising from the sleeping man. "What about you, Chris, where were you hit?"

"He wasn't hit, Doc, least not by a bullet," Tanner explained.

Metcalf left the healer asleep on the cot and stepped over to the second bed. "How'd you get hurt, Chris?"

"Fell against a rock," the gunslinger answered.

Metcalf looked from one man to the other, trying to understand the guilty look on the blue-eyed tracker's face. "You want to tell me how you managed that?"

"My fault," Tanner answered. "I threw dynamite at him."

"Vin!" Larabee snapped, finally grasping what was bothering him about the younger man's voice. "It wasn't your fault."

"It don't matter whose fault it was. I need to take a look at you. Vin, ask Josiah to come in here and give me a hand. But I don't want you to go too far. I want to look at that shoulder. Tell Buck and Ezra I want to check them as well," Metcalf ordered.

The Texan turned from the injured man and without a backwards glance left the room. Sanchez entered immediately and walked over to the doctor. "What do you want me to do, Doc?"

"I want to have a look at his back and I may need you to hold him down for me."

"Josiah, is Vin alright?"

"He'll be fine, Chris, he just feels somewhat responsible."

"Dammit, it's not his fault. Get him back here, Josiah! I need to talk some sense into him."

"Not right now, Chris, Dr. Metcalf's here to fix you up."

"I'm fine. Nathan already fixed me up," Larabee gasped as the doctor removed the bandage from his lower back.

"You say you did this when you fell against a rock?" Metcalf asked as he examined the red, swollen flesh.

"Doc, Vin was about to throw a stick of dynamite when he was shot. He dropped the dynamite as he fell backwards. Chris was behind him and when the blast went off he was thrown against a rock. Near as I can figure his back scraped along the sharpened edge of the stone. That's what caused the injury."

Metcalf knew the gunslinger was in pain, evidenced by the small gasps coming from his closed mouth. He reached into his bag and took out the bottle of Laudanum he always carried with him. "Chris, I want you to take a little of this. It should help take some of the pain away."

Larabee swallowed gratefully, unable to stand the pain taking up residence in his back any longer. "It hu...rts," he gasped.

"Just lie still," Metcalf ordered. " I'm gonna clean this up. Looks like Nathan did a good job cleaning it, but there's still a touch of infection in there. Nathan, you stay where you are!" Metcalf ordered as he saw the dark skinned healer hobbling towards him.

"I can help you," Jackson insisted.

"You can help by staying in bed till I get a chance to look at you!" the doctor ordered.

"I'm fine."

"Thought you hated hearing those words from us, Nate, better practice what you preach and tell the truth," Larabee smiled at the chagrined look on the healer's face.

Jackson sat heavily on the bed, realizing he didn't have the energy to stand on his own anyway. He looked towards the door as three of the four missing peacekeepers entered the room. Vin Tanner was conspicuously absent.

"Hey, Doc, how're they doing?" Wilmington asked.

"I'm about to find out. You fellas just sit down and wait your turn. I want to look at each one of you."

"Nathan already did, Doc," Wilmington told him.

"That was yesterday, Buck. Sit down until the doc gets round to ya," the healer ordered. "Where's Vin?"

"He said he'd be back in a little while," Dunne answered.

"Where'd he go?" Sanchez asked, his voice edged in concern.

"He was gonna check on Pony and Peso," JD told him.

"Tell him not to go anywhere," Jackson ordered.

"I shall make that request immediately."

"Ezra, you stay put till the doc looks at ya. JD, can you go make sure Vin doesn't do anything stupid."

"Sure, Nate," Dunne's eager to please voice answered as he hurried to find the tracker.

"Alright, Josiah, hold him down. Chris, I'm gonna clean the wound on your back and stitch it up a bit, okay?"

"Okay," Larabee muttered, the laudanum, exhaustion, and pain making it hard for him to focus. He knew there was someone missing, knew he should be able to think of who it was, but the ex-preacher's hands on his shoulders signalled the onslaught of a new type of hell. He held his breath as the doctor cleaned the wound with whiskey, gasping at the biting sting of the liquor.

Metcalf continued to clean the ugly gash, smiling as he noticed the slight movement of the injured man's legs. 'Looks like this might not be as bad as I first thought.' Once the laceration was cleaned the doctor began to methodically put in a neat row of stitches. He felt when Larabee finally lost the fight to stay conscious, but never wavered in the task at hand.

"Vin," Dunne called as he entered the livery.

"Who're ya lookin' fer, JD?"

"Is Vin around, Yosemite?"

"He was here a few minutes ago."

"Where'd he go?"

"Asked me to saddle Peso so's he could go on patrol."

"Damn," Dunne swore.

"What's wrong, JD?"

"Vin was supposed to come to Nathan's so Doc Metcalf could look after him. He wasn't supposed to go out on patrol."

"He said he wanted to see whether Archer and his bunch were still around."

"Thanks, Yosemite, I've got to go tell the others."

"How're Mr. Larabee and Mr. Jackson?"

"Nathan's tuckered out and his leg's bothering him some. Dr. Metcalf was just checking Chris when I left. His back don't look too good though. It's covered in bruises and one hell of a cut."

"Is he gonna be alright?"

"Don't know yet. I have to get back. Tell Vin to come to the clinic if he comes back here."

"I will, JD," Yosemite assured him as he watched the young man hurry out of the livery.

'So the tracker's out on patrol. Larabee's hurt bad and Jackson's injured as well. This just gets better,' Rich thought as the younger man hurried past him. He'd listened to the conversation between the two men in the livery and now had news he could tell Gord Archer. Smiling, he headed for the saloon in hopes of picking up more news.

The tracker searched for signs that Archer's gang was still in the area. As darkness fell he found himself close to Larabee's little piece of heaven. Not wanting to face his fears yet he headed for the small house. He unsaddle Peso and released the feisty animal into the corral. A bone-weary, aching tiredness spread over his body as he stumbled towards the tiny one room shack. He pushed the door open and stepped into the darkened interior. His eyes lit on the tiny bed and he fell onto it just before conscious thought left him and he fell into a fevered sleep.

Larabee was awake and aware, but didn't want his friends to know. He'd listened in dismay as JD told the others Vin had gone on Patrol. Josiah and Ezra forced Chris to lie back on the bed, ignoring his mounting anger as he told them he needed to find Tanner. He gave in when Sanchez and Dunne assured him they'd leave right away to search for him. 'Godammit, Vin, it's not your fault,' he thought as he felt Metcalf place his hand on his forehead.

"Leave me," the gunslinger hissed sharply.

"That's not likely, Son, I need you to drink some water for me," Metcalf said as he helped Larabee drink from the glass he held.

"T...thanks."

"You're welcome, Chris. How're you feeling and don't tell me fine. I'm as tired of hearing that as Nathan is."

"Feel hot," the blond answered.

"That's 'cause you have a fever. Just try to relax and we'll see if we can make you feel more comfortable," Metcalf smiled as the blond head bobbed once and the green eyes closed.

Nathan sat on the cot, his head resting in his hands. He hated being injured and unable to help his friends when they needed him most. Chris, Vin, and Buck all needed his attention and he'd been so weak he fell asleep before he finished his job. He wanted to kick himself for his failure, but a hand on his shoulder helped ease the tension he felt. He met the green eyes and saw the trust and friendship hidden there. "Thanks, Ezra," he said gratefully.

"You're only human, Mr. Jackson. There's just so much you can do. Why don't you lie down and get some sleep?"

"Think I will, Ez," Jackson said as he sank back onto the cot.

The nightmare began once more. Each time he closed his eyes and drifted towards sleep the memories would return to haunt him. His hand would rise to throw the dynamite just as a sharp piercing fire erupted in his shoulder and he toppled backwards, the dynamite flying from his hands. He hadn't seen where it landed, but his fevered mind conjured up it's own vivid images. He saw the explosive land at Larabee's feet and watched helplessly as the blond gunslinger was thrown backwards into the sharp protruding rock.

The tracker moaned softly as he turned onto his injured arm. His tongue slipped past dry lips and tried to moisten them, but there was no respite from the heat there. "Sorry, Cowboy, all my fault," the words were muttered in the silent shack as the nightmare that plagued his mind continued. This time he was standing on the landing to Jackson's clinic, listening as Jackson and Sanchez talked about Chris and whether he'd be able to walk again. Even in sleep the young man's left hand unconsciously struck at his legs, his voice sounding muffled in the solitude he was building around himself. "I'd give up my own legs if'n I could."

In Jackson's clinic Metcalf was having trouble calming the blond gunslinger. He seemed to be trapped in his own nightmare, beads of sweat poured from his brow, soaking through the pillow under his head. "Vin, dammit! It's not your fault!" Larabee shouted as he arched up on the bed, unaware of the pain he was causing himself or the damage he was doing to the fine row of stitches Metcalf had put in.

Jackson woke with a start at the sounds from across the tiny room. He'd been through this with this particular patient before and knew there would be no calming him until they either woke him up or the tracker returned. He lifted his injured leg over the edge of the bed and hopped the few feet to the gunslinger.

"Nathan, you should be in bed."

"I'm fine, Doc," Jackson smiled as he realized he sounded just like his two most frequent patients. "Sorry, I feel lousy, but Chris needs me right now," he explained to the older man as he sat in the chair next to the bed. Jackson reached out and touched Larabee's forehead, wincing at the heat he felt there. "How long's he been like this?"

"Couple of hours. I just sent Standish to get some ice. We have to get the fever down before he gets dehydrated. I've been tryin' to get him to drink some water, but he's not listening."

"Chris can be a stubborn cuss when he wants to be, Doc. He's even worse when he's like this," Jackson explained as he took the cloth from the basin and washed Larabee's face.

"Vin!" Larabee struggled with the nightmare of watching his friend topple backwards. It meant little to him that a stick of explosive landed close to his feet. All that mattered was hearing the tracker cry out as he was propelled backwards. The pain exploding in his own back meant nothing to him as he waited for Vin Tanner to move. The nightmare grew worse as the sharpshooter laid still on the ground, his body unmoving. "Vin!" he cried sharply.

"Chris, listen to me. It's just a dream. Come on now, wake up," Jackson spoke quietly to the injured man, hoping his soft words would break through the nightmare Larabee was trapped in.

Green eyes opened and Jackson realized the pain in them was like a mirror to the gunslinger's soul. He knew the look in those eyes meant the man was not quite with them and that he was lost in some hell of his own making. "Look at me, Chris," Jackson tried to break through the images that held the blond enthralled. "You gotta calm down now. You're only hurtin' yourself more," the healer continued in the same calming tone until the green eyes finally focused on him.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, it's me. How're ya feelin' Chris?"

"F...fine."

Metcalf laughed as he looked at the two men. So different, yet so much alike when it came to their own health. For all his complaining about the others not admitting they were hurting, Nathan Jackson was just as bad. "I'm gonna take a look at your back, Son. I need you to stay as still as possible for me," he ordered as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Okay," the blond gasped as the bandages were gently removed.

"Looks like you pulled a couple of stitches. I need you to lie still while I put them back in. Think you can do that for me?"

"Yeah!" Larabee gasped as he felt something wet placed against the wound.

"Here's the ice you requested, Doctor Metcalf," Standish said as he entered the clinic. His eyes immediately went to the injured healer seated in the chair. "I do hope you're not planning on sitting in that uncomfortable chair much longer Mr. Jackson."

"G...go b...back to bed, Nate," the blond told the healer.

"I'm okay, Chris."

"Nathan, take your own advice and get some rest. Ezra and I can look after Chris," Metcalf ordered. "Ezra, help him back to bed and give him a spoonful of Laudanum."

"I don't need..."

"Mr. Jackson, I don't believe you for a minute," Standish grinned as he helped the healer back to the cot.

"Ezra, wait till the next time you're in my hands," Jackson hissed as he opened his mouth and took the offered medication.

"I shall endeavor to stay out of harms way," the gambler laughed as he pulled the blankets up over the injured man.

"You do that," Jackson mumbled through a yawn.

Standish stared down at the dark skinned healer. Seeing this man he'd grown to respect since their first meeting in the saloon, weakened by a bullet, brought home just how frail human life could be. "Get some sleep, Mr. Jackson. Lord knows you deserve it."

"Hmm," was the quietly mumbled reply.

"All done, Chris."

Metcalf's caring voice penetrated the pain and Larabee opened his eyes once more. His eyes flicked across the room until they fell on the well-dressed gambler. "Did JD and Josiah find V...Vin?" he asked worriedly.

"They haven't returned from their search, Mr. Larabee," Standish informed him.

"Damn," the guilt and fear came through in the quietly spoken word.

"Mr. Larabee, it is not your fault."

"That's where you're wrong, Ez, it was my idea to use the dynamite. Vin wouldn't have been shot if we'd stayed below."

"You can't second guess yourself, Chris," Standish said, purposely using the leader's first name. "If you hadn't come up with a plan we'd most certainly all be dead. Archer's gang had the upper hand and we were pinned down."

"Thanks, Ezra," Larabee whispered gratefully. His back felt as if it were on fire and he tried to shift his weight on the bed. He gasped as he struggled to find a comfortable spot and felt the gambler's hand on his upper back.

"Easy, Chris," Standish soothed.

"Need to turn over," Larabee muttered.

"Chris, I don't want you lying on your back right now," Metcalf told him.

"Can't stay like this anymore, Doc, feel h...helpless," the gunslinger explained.

"Ezra, I'm going to roll him on his side. I want you to take those pillows and place them underneath him. Chris this is going to hurt, but hopefully it'll make you a little more comfortable in the long run. Are you ready?"

"T...think so," the blond grinned weakly as Metcalf gently turned him on his right side.

Standish quickly placed the pillows in front of Larabee and watched as Metcalf gently eased the injured man down on them. The gambler noted the lines of pain etched on the handsome face. The beads of sweat on his forehead, the tightly clenched eyes, and the heavy breathing, all signs of what this move cost the blond.

"Easy, Chris, it's all over," Standish whispered softly.

"T...thanks."

"Take this, Chris," Metcalf ordered, relieved when the blond didn't argue over taking the laudanum. Metcalf followed it with water and was pleased to see his patient drink the much needed liquid. The fever continued to eat away at the injured man and he hoped they could keep getting him to take in water and broth.

Standish poured the ice into the basin and dipped the cloth into the cooling water. He wiped the blonds fevered brow, smiling at the soft sigh that slipped past the man's lips.

"Looks like you were right, Josiah. Peso's in the corral."

"JD, take care of the horses while I check on our wayward tracker," Sanchez said as he dismounted and passed the reins to the younger man. He hurried to the little shack nestled in amongst the brush, worried that there was no smoke coming from the chimney. He opened the door and called softly. "Vin, it's Josiah. I'm coming in," he warned, not wanting to startle the tracker. He let his eyes adjust to the darkened interior and immediately knew something was wrong. "Vin?" he asked as he hurried to the bed. The tracker writhed on the blanket in the throes of some nightmare only he could see. "Come on, Vin, wake up," Sanchez ordered. He touched the forehead, not surprised to find it slightly warm.

"No! God, Chris, I'm so sorry!"

The words lacked any strength but the heartfelt cry stabbed at Sanchez's heart. Vin Tanner considered Chris Larabee his best friend and sometimes he wondered if these two should have been born brothers. "Vin, it wasn't your fault. Come on now, open your eyes and look at me."

The soft lilting voice broke through the nightmare images and Vin opened his eyes. "J...Josiah?"

"Yeah, it's me, Vin. Now you just lie there until I get some light in here," Sanchez ordered as he walked to the table and lit the tiny oil lamp. Soft white light shed shadows on the single room as Sanchez moved back to the bed. The stark white face of the younger man was made even whiter by the tiny, flickering flame. "You look like hell, Brother."

"Feel like hell, Josiah. "How's Chris?"

"He was a little upset the last time I saw him. Seems like some hard headed Texan went on patrol when he should've been waiting his turn to see Dr. Metcalf."

"Nathan patched me up."

"That may well be, Vin, but you still shouldn't have come out here on your own."

"Been on my own most of my life, Josiah. Should've stayed that way too. Leastwise Chris wouldn't be crippled then," Tanner snapped as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"What are you talkin' about, Vin?"

"Heard you and Nate talkin' in the clinic," Tanner swallowed painfully and put his hand to his throbbing shoulder.

"Talking about what?"

" 'Bout Chris not bein' able to walk."

"Nathan didn't say he wouldn't be able to walk he said he..."

"I know what he said, Josiah. I heard him tellin' ya that he wasn't sure cause of the swellin' and the pressure on the spine. If'n it would do any good I'd chop off my own legs and give 'em to him. Should've been me anyway," Tanner snarled as he once more struck at his thigh.

Sanchez knelt in front of the younger man, placing his strong, callused hand over the smaller hand of the tracker. "Vin, look deep inside yourself and you'll see that it wasn't your fault. Chris doesn't blame you and neither does anyone else. You have more heart and soul then any man I know Vin Tanner and I see the truth of your words in your eyes. Beating yourself up over something that's beyond your control won't help Chris."

"Should never have happened," Tanner said softly.

"You're right it shouldn't have. But as long as there are men like Gord Archer and his followers things like this will happen. Good men get hurt and sometimes they die, but as long as there are more good men to pick up the fight men like Archer will never win. You're one of those good men, Vin, you've got a heart of gold and a love of mankind seldom seen. You've made your own way in life and where a lot of men would have given up you fought to stay true to your mother's wishes. She'd be proud of you, Vin Tanner, just as I am," Sanchez looked into the blue eyes, so filled with sadness and pain. A thin stream of tears ran down both sides of the younger man's face and Sanchez knew his own face probably bore the same marks.

"Thanks, Josiah," the tracker said as he wiped the evidence away.

"You're welcome, Son. Now why don't you lie back and get some sleep?"

"I need to go see Chris," Tanner said adamantly.

"You sure you're up to the ride?"

"I'm sure, Josiah."

"All right, Vin, let's go before JD has the horses put away.

Rich smiled as he mounted his horse for the ride back to Archer's camp. Four of the seven peacekeepers were injured, Larabee being the worst off. He'd listened to the talk in the saloon the night before and knew there were only three of Larabee's gang healthy enough to put up any sort of fight. Archer's gang still had eight men including himself and he knew they could make quick work of the town of Four Corners. Smiling, he dug his heels into his horse and headed out of town just as the sun raised her golden head.

Buck rubbed his aching shoulder as he watched Standish continue to bathe the gunslinger's face and chest. Larabee's cries dug deep into his soul as he listened to him cry out for his murdered family. He'd been through this same scene many times before but it never got any easier. The love Chris Larabee had for his wife and son lived on in his heart and continued to manifest itself when the gunslinger was ill or injured. Wilmington had long ago lost track of how many nights he'd spent trying to pull the gunfighter from the nightmares that sometimes overwhelmed his friend. A low moan pulled him from his thoughts and he smiled as his friend fought to open his eyes. "Hey, Stud, 'bout time you woke up," he said.

"B...Buck?"

"Yeah, me and Ezra got stuck with watchin' out for ya," Wilmington grinned mischievously, hiding the worry he felt over his friend's health.

"Vin back yet?" Larabee asked tiredly. Although he still wasn't comfortable, lying half on his side and half on his stomach made it easier for him to see his friends.

"Not yet," the ladies man answered, keeping his own fears for the missing tracker at bay.

"Doctor Metcalf left orders for us to make sure we helped you partake of some water, Mr. Larabee," Standish informed the gunslinger. "He said water not whiskey, I'm afraid," he said before the blond could form the words.

"Damn," Larabee swore but gratefully accepted the offering. "How's the arm, Buck?"

"Sore, but manageable," Wilmington answered.

"Ez?"

"I assure you there is nothing wrong with my arm , Mr. Larabee"

"Not your arm, Ez, your head."

"My head is fine, thank you."

"That's right ain't nothin' inside there to hurt anyway," the ladies man laughed.

"The things I put up with in the name of friendship," the gambler placed the cool cloth on Larabee's forehead as he stood up to stretch.

"Ignore him, Ez, the rest of us do," Larabee laughed but was cut short as his back protested the movement. "Shit!"

"Easy, Pard," Wilmington placed his hand on the gunslingers shoulder in an effort to keep him still. "You don't want old Doc Metcalf having to put them stitches back in."

"Old Doc Metcalf, Buck."

"Oh, hell," the ladies man swore as he noticed the whiskered man and the healer standing in the door of the clinic. "Ya know I didn't mean it like it sounded, Doc."

Jackson leaned heavily on a cane as he limped over to the cot.

"I think it's time I took another look at your shoulder," Metcalf pointed to the empty chair beside Nathan. "Why don't you take off your shirt and have a seat before these shaky old hands of mine get worse."

"You have my deepest sympathies, Mr. Wilmington," Standish couldn't suppress the tiny laugh that escaped his mouth, the smile broadened as he saw the same smile on Chris Larabee's pale face.

"Shoulder's fine, Doc," Wilmington tried.

"The chair, Buck, or I might just have to get someone to hold you down," Metcalf said, making a show of his trembling hands, laughing as he saw the look of uncertainty come over the moustached man's face.

"Oh, shit!"

"There seems to be a lot of that going around today," Standish commented as he took the cloth from Larabee's head, wet it, and placed it back on the heated forehead.

"Thanks, Ez," the blond muttered. He closed his eyes and listened to Buck whine about the torture Metcalf was inflicting on his arm. His thoughts once more drifted to the missing tracker. Fever, exhaustion, and pain drew him under and he was once more wrapped in the changing nightmares that plagued his mind. Vin being shot mixed in with Sarah and Adam and the fire until the hungry flames surrounding them consumed all three. "Sarah! Adam! Vin!" he screamed as he fought his way towards the flames only to feel strong hands hold him back.

"Easy, Cowboy," Tanner drawled as he sat next to the gunslinger. He'd heard the cries from below and hurried up the stairs, surprising the others in his desperate attempt to help his friend. "Lie still, Chris, everything's alright now."

"V...Vin," Larabee gasped as the familiar voice eased him from the nightmare he'd resided in.

"Yeah, it's me," the younger man smiled weakly.

"Not your fault, Vin. Nobody's fault. A stupid accident."

"I know, Chris, Josiah and me had a good talk."

"J...Josiah's a smart man. Y...you listen to him. Knows w...what he's t...talking about," Larabee gasped as he let his eyes slip shut.

The red blotches on the pale face were evidence that the gunslinger's fever was too high and Vin turned worried eyes on Metcalf. "Doc, he's burnin' up."

"He's got one hell of a fever, Vin, we're doin' everything we can short of immersing him in a tub of ice water. With the injury to his back I don't want to do that unless it's absolutely necessary. Now, young man I need to take a look at your shoulder. Take a seat over here."

"Shoulder's fine, Doc."

"Sure it is," Jackson laughed as he lay back on the bed. "Told you they were a stubborn lot, Doc."

"And you're not, Nathan. I'm sure I told you to stay in bed and I'd have breakfast brought up for you."

"I used the cane didn't I?" Jackson had the good grace to turn away before he joined in the laughter from his friends.

"Oh, Nathan, we'll never let you forget this. It's so nice to see you on the receiving end for a change," Wilmington held his injured arm as he laughed.

Jackson turned to see a pair of green eyes staring at him, "Chris, would you shoot him for me?"

"I think I'm on his side, Nathan," the blond smiled warmly.

"Vin, in the chair now," Metcalf ordered.

"Better get it over with, Tanner," Larabee nodded as the younger man stood up and walked to the chair.

Josiah and JD entered the clinic, chuckling as they noticed the full house.

"Well, Brothers it's good to see everyone awake. How are you feeling, Chris?" the ex-preacher asked as he took the seat recently held by the tracker.

"Fine, Josiah," he answered. 'Thanks for bringing him back,' he mouthed his gratitude to the older men.

Sanchez smiled as he patted the blond's shoulder. "Get some rest, My Brother, you need to let yourself heal."

"That's good advice, Chris. Actually that's good advice for Nathan, Buck, Vin and you as well, Ezra. Josiah, JD, see to it that those two," he indicated the ladies man and the gambler, "go to their rooms and rest. No arguments. Each one of you was shot and each one of you needs to rest. Now get those two out of here."

"You heard the man, Buck," JD grinned at the older man as he opened the door.

"You too, Ez," Sanchez smiled broadly as they ushered the two men out the door.

An hour later three men slept soundly in the clinic. Chris in the bed, Nathan on the cot, and Vin Tanner on a bedroll in the corner.

Metcalf kept vigilance on the three sleeping men. Forcing water down Larabee's throat whenever he was awake enough to swallow it. He worried about the gunslinger's injury as he hadn't moved his legs since the night before. Sighing he stretched his back and set to work bringing down the fever.

Gord Archer looked up as a horse galloped into the makeshift camp. Two days had come and gone since he sent the man to Four Corners to gather information on the Larabee gang. He waited for the man to stop on front of him, "What the hell took ya so long?" he snarled.

"Ya wanted to know how bad we'd hurt em. Well I had to wait around until I found out," Rich explained as he ground tied his horse.

Brad Weston hurried towards the two men intent on hearing the news Rich had garnered on his trip.

"What'd ya find out?" Archer asked.

Rich smiled at the leader of the gang as he delivered the news from Four Corners. "Tanner and Wilmington were both shot in the arm. Standish took a blow to the head but he's up and around. Jackson took a bullet in the leg. Dunne and Sanchez are both fine," he said as he walked to the fire and poured a cup of coffee.

"Larabee?" Archer asked.

The smile on Rich's face grew as he turned back to Archer. "Talk is Larabee was injured when he was thrown against a rock."

"How'd that happen?" Weston asked.

"Happened when Tanner got hit and dropped the dynamite. Larabee was right behind him and took the force of the explosion."

"How bad," Archer asked, an evil gleam in his eyes as the firelight glanced off them.

"Rumor has it he hurt his back and ain't movin' his legs too much. Some even said he was paralysed."

"Paralysed and Jackson's probably not able to help him much," Weston grinned.

"They got the doc from Eagle Bend over there now. He's takin' care of Larabee and the others."

"Anyone say how long Larabee and the others would be down?" Archer asked.

"Tanner, Standish, and Wilmington aren't bad off. Saw Standish in the saloon. The other two are stayin' with Larabee and Jackson even though they don't need too. Larabee's down, but no one knows for how long."

"Larabee's down, the others aren't in great shape," Archer rubbed his chin as he talked. "All right, Boys, we hit the town tomorrow. We rob the bank and kill any of Larabee's men we see."

"What about Larabee?"

"He's mine."

"How're you gonna get to em, Gord?" Rich asked.

"I'll get to him while you fella's keep the others occupied at the bank. My brother's dead and I hold that son of a bitch responsible," he said as he took a slug of whiskey from the bottle Weston passed him.

The heat felt intense and he wondered where it was coming from. He knew he was lying down and that he should try to escape the inferno around him but to move meant pain and that was not something he wanted to deal with anymore. He groaned as something cool touched his brow and he felt drawn to it. Slowly opening his eyes he looked at the woman seated in the chair. She didn't seem to notice he was awake and he took the time to study her.

The first thing he noticed was the dark circles under her eyes and the strands of hair poking out from the tight bun at the back of her head. He knew she was worried about him and hated the thought of her losing sleep over him.

"M...Mary," he whispered through his parched throat.

Mary jumped at the soft voice in the quiet room. She looked at the pain filled green eyes and forced a smile to her face. "How are you feeling, Chris?" she asked as she wet the cloth and bathed the pale face.

"Thirsty."

She picked up the glass of water and helped him drink his fill, dissatisfied when he stopped after only a couple of sips. "A little more?" she asked hopefully.

"L...later. Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Nathan and Dr. Metcalf went to get some breakfast. Josiah, Vin, and Ezra went to check for signs of the Archer gang. Buck and JD are in the sheriff' office."

"They ok?"

"They're all fine, Chris. A little sore but you know Vin and Buck won't slow down until they find the gang who caused all this. Now you stop worrying about everyone else and concentrate on getting better," she scolded.

"Sound like N...Nathan," he said as he let his eyes slide closed.

"Chris?"

"Hmm."

"Can you drink a little more water for me?"

"T...think so," he answered as she held the glass to his lips. He drank a little more and eased down in the bed.

"How does your back feel?" she asked as she bathed his glistening shoulders.

"Back's fine," he grinned sheepishly, knowing he was deliberately lying and that she knew it. "Been trying to move my legs but they don't seem to be responding much."

"Why don't you give it another try and let me see?"

"Okay," he said and concentrated on making his legs obey his brain's commands. He gasped as they moved a fraction of an inch, a small grin on his face as he realized he'd made his body obey even if it was barely noticeable.

Mary smiled at the look of triumph on the blonds face. "You did it, Chris," she laughed.

"What's so funny," Wilmington asked as he entered the room.

"Nothing funny, Buck," Larabee told the ladies man. "I was just trying to move my damn legs."

"And?"

"And he did it," Mary smiled at the pale blond, feeling herself drawn into the depth of the green eyes.

"Hey, Stud, that's great. You'll be giving Nathan a hard time in no time at all."

"You gonna back me up?"

"About getting out of bed?"

Larabee nodded.

"No you won't," Mary looked appalled at the idea. "Chris, you listen to what Nathan and Dr. Metcalf tell you. Buck, if you so much as raise one hand to help him out of bed before the doctor and Nathan say it's ok I..."

"Whoa, Mary, I'm not plannin' on helping the hardhead do something that's gonna make things worse for him and get me in trouble at the same time. Sorry, Stud, there's to many of 'em to fight."

"Thanks a lot, Pard."

"Chris, you just lie there and let the rest of us look after you."

"Mary, I can't rest with Archer and his gang out there," Larabee told her.

"There's not much else you can do right now, Pard. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and Archer and his bunch have already hightailed it to Mexico or some place far away from here," Wilmington told him.

"Buck, that's the biggest load of cr... ah garbage I ever heard. You know as well as I do Archer won't leave until he's finished and I don't think he's finished yet."

Mary smiled inwardly at the thought of him not swearing because she was present. "Maybe not, Chris, but you're in no shape to do anything about it," she told him.

The gunslinger tried to ease himself up on the bed but a soft hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Chris, don't try to get up. Dr. Metcalf doesn't want you moving around to much."

"I can't stay like this," he told her as he tried to turn over. "Help me sit up, Buck."

"Forget it, Chris, not till Nathan or the doc says it's ok. If it was just them I'd do it, but I don't want to get Mary angry at me," Wilmington smiled at the man on the bed.

Mary reached for the glass of water and once more helped Chris sip from it. "Why don't you try to get some sleep, Chris?" she asked.

"Seems to be the only thing anyone will let me do."

"That's because you need the rest, Chris," Jackson said as he entered the room, relying heavily on the cane to help him along.

"What about, you, Nathan? Shouldn't you take your own advice?" Larabee asked.

"You do look tired, Nathan," Mary's voice was filled with concern.

"I'm f..." he smiled as he noticed three sets of eyes on him. "I'm feeling kind of tired," he quipped. He laughed along with them as he sat no the edge of the cot. He looked at the gunslinger as he heard an audible groan. "Back bothering ya, Chris?"

"A l...little," Larabee answered.

"Buck, give him some Laudanum so he can rest," Jackson ordered. He watched as the ladies man served up a dose of the medication to the gunslinger before he sank onto the cot. "That'll help, Chris."

"Hmm," Larabee agreed as he waited for the pain to ease. He kept his eyes closed as once more Mary placed a cool cloth on his forehead.

"Did you perchance discover anything useful, Mr. Tanner?" Standish asked as he watched the tracker search the area where they'd first encountered the Archer gang.

Tanner knelt by the side of the trail, checking to see how many men were with Gord Archer. The tracks were easy to read and Vin knew they were dealing with at least twelve men. They'd found two bodies but he knew they'd hit more than that. He'd found bloodstains on the grounds and rocks around the area. 'Guess some of em were winged too,' he thought as he stood up and rubbed his aching shoulder.

"Archer and his gang hightailed it southwest. Looks to be twelve horses but only ten of em were carrying anything. By the amount of blood in different places I'd say we winged a few of em."

"How's the arm, Vin?"

"Not bad, Josiah," Tanner answered as he continued to rub the injured limb.

"Is it too bad to continue?"

"It's fine, Josiah. We've got to find them and make sure they don't hurt anyone else."

"I agree, Mr. Tanner, we must see that these miscreants are brought to justice," Standish hissed as he rubbed his own reminder of the shootout.

"Then let's ride," Sanchez ordered and they headed south with Vin leading the way.

"How's he doing, Doc?" Wilmington asked as the doctor finished changing the bandages on Larabee's back.

"Well, Buck, I think we've managed to get rid of the infection. Now it's just a matter of letting the wound heal," Metcalf explained as he gently placed the blanket over the injured man.

"Is he gonna be able to walk?"

"From everything I've seen so far he should make a full recovery. He's gonna have to let the swelling go down and then we'll start working on his legs to get the strength back into them. He's not gonna be able to just get up and do things like he normally does."

"Oh, Doc, I hate to say it, but that'll be easier said than done," Wilmington laughed.

"If he wants to get back on his own two feet and stay there. he'll do everything he's told to."

"That'll be a first..."

"You two want to stop talking about me as if I'm not here?"

"Hey, Stud, thought you were sleeping."

"I was, Buck, till you started talking."

"Chris, drink this," Metcalf ordered and forced the injured man to drink water and then a little broth. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired, hot, sore," Larabee answered.

"That's normal. Do you want us to turn you back on your stomach again?"

"Might be a good idea. Kinda getting stiff lying like this."

"No problem. Buck, when I lift him you pull the pillows out. Okay, Chris, are you ready?" At the nod he gently lifted Larabee's shoulders and hip until he was totally on his side. He eased him back to the bed as soon as Wilmington removed the pillows. "Easy, Son, I know that hurts but it should ease off shortly."

"O...kay," the blond answered as he clenched his hands tightly. "Damn!" he gasped as it finally subsided.

Metcalf patted his shoulder and urged him to take in more water. He was pleased his patient was still taking in liquids and hoped it would continue. The fever that raged through him seemed to have decreased and he watched as the injured man succumbed to sleep once more.

"I don't care," Archer snapped over his shoulder as he hurried towards the town of Four Corners. "I told you I want to be there by this afternoon and if that means running these nags into the ground then so what. We'll just take us what we need from the damn lawmen in the town. They won't be needin' em by the time we're through with em," he laughed as he pictured seven bodies swaying in the breeze.

Tanner touched the ashes and looked around the small area. "We didn't miss em by more'n a couple of hours, Josiah," he shook his head as he followed the footprints to the area the gang had left their horses. "Looks like we're dealing with eight men."

"Can you tell which direction they headed, Mr. Tanner?"

"Hang on a minute, Ez," Tanner ordered as he searched the area of broken grass and overturned rocks. "Jesus!" he exclaimed as he hurriedly mounted Peso.

"Vin, what's wrong?" Sanchez asked worriedly.

"They headed north again."

"You think they're headed back to town?"

"Yeah, Josiah, where else would they be going?"

"Damn, we left JD back there with three injured men and a town to defend," Sanchez said as he spurred his mount forward.

"I suggest we make tracks for town posthaste," Standish suggested as the three men drove their horses northwards in hopes of making town before disaster befell it.

"JD, everything all right?"

"Yeah, Buck, everything's fine. I'm just gonna grab some lunch. How're Chris and Nate doing?"

"Let's just say Nathan wants out. He's sputterin' about having to take it easy on his leg."

"You know, Buck, I hate seeing him hurt, but it's nice to know he's as bad as the rest of us when he is."

"Yeah, JD, and we're not gonna let him forget it."

"How's your arm?"

"Not bad. I just have to watch what I say when Doc Metcalf's around. That man don't cotton to bein' called old," he hissed as he rubbed his injured shoulder.

"Come on, Buck, I'll buy ya lunch," the young sheriff offered.

Wilmington's eyes shot up as he looked at JD, "Now that's an offer I can't turn down. Lead the way, Kid," he laughed.

Mary continued to sit with Chris, gently washing the injured man's face while waiting for the expressive green eyes to open. The doctor was pleased with the way the gunslinger's fever continued to dissipate. She'd listened to Metcalf and Jackson as they discussed what lay ahead for the gunslinger. The recovery from the injury would be bad enough but he'd also have to deal with someone exercising his legs while the wound was still healing. 'I'll help you, Chris,' she thought as she looked at the handsome face

"Is he still sleeping, Mrs. Travis?"

"Yes, Nathan, but he seems a little cooler."

Jackson leaned heavily on the cane as he made his way to the bed. He reached down and touched the gunslinger's forehead nodding his head in confirmation. "He is a little cooler. You look a mite tired, Mrs. Travis. Why don't you go home and get some rest? I can handle Chris until Dr. Metcalf gets back."

Mary looked from the healer to the man on the bed. She knew he was right, she felt exhausted as she lifted her hands and rubbed her tired eyes. "Call me if he needs anything," she said.

"I will," Nathan assured her as she stood up to leave. "He's strong, Mrs. Travis, and he'll beat this."

Mary nodded as she left the clinic.

Jackson wasn't surprised to see two green orbs looking up at him from beneath hooded lids. He smiled at the gunslinger as he held the glass of water out to him. He helped the pale man lift his head enough to drink. "How're you feelin', Chris?"

"Feel like getting out of this damn bed," Larabee answered as he struggled to get up, smiling as he pulled his legs slowly upwards.

"That's not such a good idea right now, Chris," Jackson smiled as he placed a hand on Larabee's right shoulder, forcing him back on the bed.

"Ah, hell, Nathan, that's just plain mean," he gasped as he turned a little on his side.

"Let that be a lesson to you. You won't be gettin' outta that bed till Doc Metcalf says it's ok."

"When will that be?"

"Well now, Chris, first off we need to let the wound in your back heal up some and that means you have to lie still."

"How long?"

"At least a week maybe longer."

"That's not gonna happen, Nathan," Larabee hissed.

"It is if you want to walk again."

"Damn, you drive a hard bargain, Nate!"

Jackson smiled as he took the wet cloth from the basin again. He placed it across the gunslinger's forehead, patting his shoulder gently. "Go on back to sleep, Chris."

"Vin, Ezra, and Josiah back yet?"

"Not yet."

"I hope the hell they haven't run into trouble," Larabee muttered as he felt sleep beckoning to him again.

"They'll be ok, Chris, and so will you as long as you listen to what we say."

Archer pulled to a stop on the outskirts of Four Corners, an evil grin on his face at the thought of taking on the injured lawmen. "The day of reckoning is at hand, Larabee," he laughed as the seven surviving members of the gang pulled up next to him. "You all know what to do?"

"We rob the bank and take care of anyone who gets in our way," Rich smiled at the thought of the bloodbath they were about to cause.

"That's right. Now you fellas make sure ya kill them and we'll hang their dead bodies from that tree over there," Archer pointed to a large tree to their right, the branches heavily laden with leaves and reaching up to the bright afternoon sky. "Larabee's mine," he warned. "You fellas make damn sure ya get the job done and meet me outside Jackson's clinic. You did say it was over the livery?"

"That's right," Rich answered as they lifted the bandanas to their faces and rode towards the unsuspecting town.

Buck and JD sat outside the jailhouse watching the town as the people went about their business. Buck tipped his hat as a young woman smiled his way.

"Buck," Dunne said. "Buck?" he repeated as his first call went unanswered.

Wilmington glanced towards the sheriff. "What is it, Kid?"

"Looks like we got company!" Dunne said as he pointed to the horses thundering into town.

"Jesus, it's Archer and his gang. Everyone off the street," he shouted as the riders came towards them, guns drawn and shooting skywards. "JD, get down! Nathan, it's Archer!" he yelled as the healer came out of the saloon.

Jackson saw the riders and dove behind the water trough, grimacing as pain flared in his leg, his gun coming up and pointing at the men coming towards them. "I count seven!" he shouted to Wilmington as he fired at the group of men.

"They're headed for the bank!" Dunne yelled as the horsemen made their way past them.

"Nathan, cover me!" Wilmington shouted as he ran from the front of the jail towards the bank, stopping behind a rain barrel as bullets struck the dirt around him.

"JD, make sure everyone stays inside!"

"They're already closing up, Buck!"

'Wish the hell Vin, Josiah, and Ezra were back,' Dunne thought as the windows and drapes were closed. He watched the men climb down from their horses and move towards the bank, grinning as he realized the aged banker had already closed and locked the doors.

"Help me up, Doc!" Larabee ordered as he struggled to turn on his side. He could see his gun sitting on the table next to his bed and he needed to move to help his friends.

"Chris you can't do that. If you try to get up now you'll just cause more damage," Metcalf explained.

"I can't lie here while JD, Nathan, and Buck, are being used for target practice!"

"What good'll it do them for you to go out there? They'll be too worried about you to concentrate on what they're doing."

"Then just get me out on the landing. I can lie on the floor and shoot from there!" Larabee hissed as he slipped his legs over the edge of the bed, swearing sharply as the jarring movement sent pain flaring up his back.

"You're a stubborn mule, Larabee," Metcalf snapped as he helped the gunslinger sit up and lean against the wall to catch his breath. Sweat once more beaded on the pale face as Larabee clenched his eyes and fists in order to ride out the pain.

"You ready to admit you can't do this?"

"I have to do it, Doc!" he hissed

"Yeah, Doc, he has too."

Chris tried to move but his body wouldn't obey his commands. He ignored the pain in his back as he stretched for his white handled colt.

"Touch it and the doc's dead, Larabee!" Archer laughed at the mixture of torment, pain, and anger on the blonds face. "Now sit down until my men finish making a healthy withdrawal from your bank."

"Let the doc go!" the gunslinger ordered.

"I don't think so, Larabee. I'm gonna need him to help me get my hostage downstairs and on a horse," Archer laughed hysterically as he saw the doc's anger flare.

"You can't put him on a horse it'll kill him."

"That's the idea, Doc. See I got plans to watch seven lawmen swing from ropes on that big tree just south of town. Now get him on his feet and we'll just go watch the proceedings from the landing."

"No, dammit, you just leave him where he is and I'll go with you!" Metcalf snarled.

"Sorry, Doc, but Larabee's gotta pay right along with his friends. Now get em on his feet."

"Do it, Doc!" the injured man hissed as he reached up for the doc to grab his arm and help him stand.

"Chris?"

"No choice, Doc."

"That's right, Doc, neither one of ya has a choice. Now get him up!"

"Hear that, Josiah?"

"I hear it, Vin."

"It sounds like our comrades are greatly in need of our assistance," Standish shouted as he followed the galloping horses towards the tiny town they called home.

Wilmington fired and smiled when he heard a gasp of pain from the man he aimed for. "JD, can you see where they are?" he shouted as a bullet clipped the corner of the barrel he was hiding behind. Water splashed over him and he wiped it away from his eyes.

"They're trying to get into the bank, Buck! Nathan's headed around back to see if we can get them in a crossfire!"

"Shit, Nathan's got a bum leg, JD! Can ya see him?"

"Yeah, he's limping but he's still moving pretty good," Dunne said as he fired at a man running towards the horse trough in front of the bank.

"Nice shot, Kid!" Wilmington shouted as he watched the man fall short of his destination. "Shit, JD, more riders comin'!" he shouted as he fired at the men seeking refuge around the bank.

"It's okay, Buck!" Dunne shouted excitedly. "It's Vin, Ez, and Josiah!"

"Thank you, Lord," the ladies man said as he looked towards the church.

"Archer's men are at the bank!" JD shouted to the newcomers as they dismounted and ran for cover, hitting the horses so they'd gallop out of danger.

"I'm gonna circle around," Tanner told them as he hurried down the alleyway.

"Nathan's gone that way too, Vin!" JD yelled above the gunfire.

Josiah slumped behind a wagon and sent a bullet into one of the outlaws. "How many?" he yelled.

"There were seven, but with the guy you just took down it leaves four. Me and JD got one each."

"Sounds like Vin and Nathan are in position!" the ex-preacher shouted as he laid down covering fire for the two men.

"Come on, Larabee, move a little faster or I'll just kill ya both right here," Archer hissed as they made it to the landing.

"He can't go any faster you idiot! He's hurt," Metcalf snapped.

"That right," Archer laughed. "What if I did this?"

Larabee doubled over in agony as the outlaw pressed his gun into the center of his back. He cried out as he sank to his knees.

"You sorry Son of a Bitch!" Metcalf shouted as he felt the man he held trembling violently.

"Shut up, Doc, and get him back on his feet!"

"D...do i...it," Larabee hissed as he felt Metcalf release his hold on him.

"You're bleedin'," Metcalf told him.

"I k...know," the blond whispered, his teeth clenched against the agony in his lower back.

"I said get him on his feet!" Archer snarled angrily.

"I am!" Metcalf snarled back as he helped the injured man stand up.

"Now move over to the stairs so's we can see what my men are doin to yers," Archer laughed. "Won't be too long before I get the pleasure of seein' ya all hang."

"N...not gonna h...happen, Archer!" Larabee smiled as he watched his friends round up three men and walk them at gunpoint towards the jail.

"What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout," Archer hissed from behind the duo.

"Looks like your m...men are going to j...hail, A...Archer!" the blond muttered painfully.

"No way in hell that's gonna happen, Larabee," Archer warned as he placed a hand on the blonds shoulder. "Doc, you get down them stairs and get over to the jail. Ya tell those men they'd best get out here so I can talk to 'em. Tell 'em I'd better see the six of 'em or I'll kill Larabee here and now!" Archer warned as he gripped the gunslinger's shoulder tightly.

"Look, just let him go and I'll help you get them out of jail," Metcalf pleaded.

"I don't think so, Doc. Larabee's my ace in the hole. His men'll do anything ta make sure he's safe. Now get goin' before I put a bullet in his leg. Make sure ya tell them they'd better be unarmed or he gets it!"

"Go, Doc," Chris hissed.

"All right," Metcalf shook his head as he hurried down the stairs.

"Look's like it's just you and me, Law dawg. How's yer back doin'?"

"F...fine," the blond mumbled as Archer pulled him back so he could use him as a shield.

"That's good 'cause yer gonna need ta stand on yer own two feet when my men get here. If'n yer real good I might even be convinced ta leave yer friends alone fer now," the outlaw laughed as he felt the blond's tense form against his own. "What do ya thing, Larabee? Ya willin' ta give up yer life fer yer friends?"

"Yes!" the blond snarled.

"Good, now let's just wait fer yer friends ta come out."

Metcalf rushed into the jail just as Dunne was locking the door to the cell. He saw the other five men and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Doc, what's wrong?" Wilmington asked.

"Archer's got Chris!"

"What?" Sanchez snapped as he hurried to the door, the others quickly on his heels.

"Wait!"

"Why?" Jackson asked.

"He says he wants all of you out there without your guns or he'll kill him."

"Son of A bitch!" Wilmington swore as he struck the wall next to the desk.

"Hey, does this mean yer gonna let us outta here?" Rich laughed.

"Shut up or I'll kill ya!" the ladies man snapped.

"Buck, calm down now! This isn't doing Chris any good," Jackson warned.

"Does Archer know we're all here?" Tanner asked.

"Yeah. He said to tell you that all six of you'd better come out there or he'd kill Chris," Metcalf told them.

"Damn, what're we gonna do?" Dunne asked.

"We're gonna give the bastard what he wants," Sanchez explained.

"What?" Jackson hissed, rounding on the ex-preacher.

Sanchez smiled at the men.

"What's the plan, Josiah?" Tanner asked.

"Vin, you and doc are about the same size. How would you feel about changing clothes?"

"Why?" Dunne asked.

Standish grinned at the younger man. "I do believe we are about to pull the wool over Archer's eyes."

"Huh?"

"Vin's gonna give the doc his clothing and the doc will come out into the street with us," Wilmington explained.

"Giving me a chance to get on the roof across the street and hopefully take Archer out," Tanner told them. He turned to the whiskered man. "What do ya say, Doc, care to take on my job?"

"If it'll help get Chris away from him, I'll do it."

"How was Chris, Doc?"

"Archer hit him in the back, Nathan. He's bleeding again."

"I'm gonna string him to the nearest tree!" Wilmington snarled as the tracker removed his coat.

"Doc, you're gonna have to stay behind us. I don't know if Archer's seen Vin close up so we don't want him to get a good look at you," Sanchez explained as the older man pulled on the buckskin jacket.

"Ok," Metcalf agreed as he pulled on Tanner's hat.

"Just keep him busy till I get in position," Tanner ordered as he picked up his mare's leg and headed out the back door.

"Be careful, Vin," Jackson warned as they headed for the front door.

Chris Larabee fought the agony searing through his back as Archer held his gun against the wound there. He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a groan, biting his lip and tasting blood, the pain minor compared to the constant throbbing of his back.

"Are ya in pain, Larabee? Not that it matters 'cause once we're outta here ya won't be feeling a thing. Well, well, well, looks like yer friends are comin' out and they ain't packin'. Now why don't ya call to them and get their attention for me."

"Do your own dirty work," Larabee hissed.

"I'd rather they heard it from you," Archer snarled as he pressed his gun into the blood soaked bandage on the injured man's back. He laughed as a cry of pain ripped from the blond's throat. "That's perfect, Larabee. You should see how mad your friends are, even that one who wears the buckskin jacket," he laughed. "Now you boys listen up. I got yer leader up here and he's not lookin' to good! Probably cause he's bleedin all over the landin' up here. Now if ya do as I say he just might live ta see another day!" he shouted as he pulled the blond up straight and placed his gun to his head.

Larabee felt detached from the scene as the gun was placed to his head. He kept his mind on what he needed to do as the outlaw cocked the pistol. Breathing deeply he set himself to do what he needed to in order to prevent this man's escape.

Vin climbed onto the roof ignoring the sharp pain emanating from his injured shoulder. 'Hang on, Chris,' he thought as he crawled to the edge and gazed across the street at the landing outside Nathan Jackson's clinic. The sight of his friend standing in front of Archer made his blood run cold.

He could see the way Larabee held himself he was in pain, but something about the blond's stance warned Vin he was about to do something dangerous. He could almost see the cold hatred in Larabee's green eyes. 'Not yet, Chris, just let me have a clear shot at the son of a bitch,' he thought as he placed his mare's leg to his shoulder and waited for a clear shot of the outlaw.

"Let him go!" Wilmington shouted.

"I don't think that's gonna happen," Archer shouted as he kept Larabee in front of him. He felt the taut muscles of his hostage's body and knew the man was getting ready to try something. "Don't even think about it, Larabee. I'll gun ya down before ya get a chance to make yer move."

His back was on fire and he felt the blood running from the wound. He had no idea how he stayed on his own two feet but he knew he needed to make his move quickly. The gun at his head wavered and in a desperate move he lunged forward, dropping to his knees and crying out as pain became his whole world.

"Son of a bitch," Tanner hissed as he sighted down on the outlaw and fired. He saw the man's head snap back and knew his shot was true. He turned away from the scene and hurriedly climbed down from the roof.

Jackson saw the outlaw's head snap back at the same time a gunshot sounded from the roof. In spite of the throbbing wound in his leg he hurried towards the stairs to the landing.

"Slow down, Nathan!" Metcalf shouted. "You won't do him any good if you open up your own wound!"

Jackson hobbled up the stairs and knelt beside the gunslinger. He could tell his friend was in agony and he knew he needed help fast. "He's bleeding bad, Doc," he said as the others crowded around them. "Chris?"

"N...Nathan," Larabee hissed through clenched teeth. "Archer?"

"He's dead, Chris," Sanchez assured him. The hole dead center of the man's forehead left no doubt about the voracity of his words.

"E...everyone o...okay?" he asked, moaning as Metcalf and Jackson worked over his back.

"Everyone's fine, Stud," Wilmington told him.

"W...where's Vin?" the blond asked weakly.

"I'm right here, Chris," Tanner answered, kneeling in front of his friend.

"Y...you ok, V..." Larabee started, but cried out as the doctor touched the tender area on his back.

"I'm fine, Chris," Tanner said as he reached for his friend's hand. He felt the grip tighten on his fingers and knew Larabee was in a lot of pain.

"We need to get him inside where I can work on him properly. Josiah, JD, Ezra, get me something to carry him on. I want to keep him as straight as possible."

"I c...can w...walk," Larabee hissed as he tried to sit up.

"Chris, stay put," Metcalf ordered. "I don't want you moving around at all. I need to stop the bleeding and replace the stitches in your back. Now you just lie still and do as you're told!"

"T...try." Larabee told him as Josiah and JD returned with a flat board.

"Alright, Chris, we're gonna get you on this board and I want you to just lie still and let us do the work."

"D...don't seem to have much c...choice...can't s...seem to move my l...legs anymore," the gunslinger hissed.

"Nathan? Doc?" Tanner asked, fear for his friend written on his pale face.

"I don't know yet, Vin," Metcalf muttered as they placed the injured man on the board and carried him into the clinic. "Leave him on the board and put him on the table over there," Metcalf ordered as Ezra, JD and Josiah carried the injured man into the clinic.

Larabee groaned as they lowered the board. The pain in his back was worse than when the injury first occurred and he cried out as they removed his shirt.

"Easy, Chris," Jackson soothed.

"Damn, N...Nate, it won't let up."

" Josiah, pass me the laudanum," Metcalf ordered.

Sanchez hurried to the small table by the bed and picked up the bottle. He passed it to Jackson and helped him feed the gunslinger a liberal dose before recapping it.

"That should help some, Chris," Jackson told him as he noted the new swelling and bruising around the re-opened gash.

"T...thanks," Larabee muttered, flinching as the doctor continued cleaning the wound.

"Not much longer, Chris," Metcalf told him.

"Hmm," Larabee hissed as he tried to control the trembling in his upper body. The pain began to ease and he wondered briefly why he couldn't move his legs as he surrendered to sleep.

"Doc?"

"Give me a few more minutes, Vin," Metcalf ordered as he replaced the broken stitches. It took another half hour to finish the stitches and bandage the wound. Metcalf stretched the kinks out of his back and turned to the men crowded in the small room. "Let's get him back on the bed," he ordered.

"What about his legs, Doc?" Wilmington asked.

Metcalf shook his head as Josiah, Ezra, and JD once more lifted the Board and carried their leader to the bed. "I'm afraid it comes down to the swelling again. We have to wait and see."

"But he'll be able to walk again, right, Doc?" JD asked as the doctor and Jackson eased the unconscious man unto the bed.

"I don't know," Metcalf told them. "He was just starting to walk again so I'm hoping the same thing will happen when the swelling goes down again. He's gonna need to be still and not try anything stupid."

"Chris? Do something stupid?" Wilmington said sarcastically, bringing a hint of a smile to the worried faces in the clinic.

"I want someone with him at all times. He's to be kept quiet and in bed."

"Easier said than done," Jackson muttered.

"That may be, but it's gonna have to be done if he wants any chance of walking again. Now, I want to take a look at your leg, Nathan."

"It's fine," Jackson hissed.

"Sure it is. Sit down," Metcalf ordered.

"JD, Ezra, why don't we take care of the bodies?" Sanchez suggested.

"I'll give you a hand," Wilmington said, knowing there'd be a lot of cleanup in the streets.

"Vin, Buck, don't even think about leaving till I check those wounds."

"I'm ok, Doc," Tanner told him.

"Dammit if you people aren't the most stubborn bunch of jackasses I ever met. Now just shut up and sit down both of you. I got more to worry about than whether or not your wounds are infected."

"Looks like you'd better do as he says, Brothers," Sanchez laughed as he followed Dunne and Standish from the room.

Metcalf cleaned the wounds on the three men and told each of them to take it easy, something he knew would not happen. "Nathan, I want you to stay off that leg," he ordered.

"Doc."

"Don't argue with me, Nathan. You get over there and lie down or so help me I'll tie you to the bed. Ok, you two what's so funny?" Metcalf asked of the two laughing men.

"It's nice to see Nathan threatened with that for a change," Wilmington grinned as the healer sat on the edge of the bed.

"You know, Buck, I can see why Chris threatens to shoot you," Jackson told him.

A low moan from the blond gunslinger wiped the smiles from the faces of the men in the room. Chris Larabee was bathed in perspiration and his face was contorted in pain.

"How're you feeling, Chris," Metcalf asked softly as a pair of confused green eyes opened and stared at him.

"O...okay," Larabee answered. He looked around the room, taking in the pale faces of his friends as they stared openly at him. He tried to move but a strong hand on his shoulder effectively prevented any further movement on his part.

"I don't want you moving around right now, Chris," Metcalf explained.

"Doc, I can't move my legs," the gunslinger groaned as he tried to move once more.

"That's probably because of the renewed swelling, Chris. Give it some time to go down and hopefully you'll be moving around again."

Larabee slowly nodded, his eyes meeting the blue eyes of the tracker. He could read the guilt written on the younger man's face and knew he was blaming himself once more. "Vin, t...thank y...you," he muttered.

"Fer what, Chris?" Tanner asked. 'Nearly getting ya killed and maybe costin' ya the use of yer legs,' he thought.

"For saving my life out there. Archer was going to kill us all," Larabee grimaced as he watched his friend's features. "Vin, it wasn't your fault," he hissed as he let his eyes slide closed.

'Yes it was, Cowboy,' he thought angrily. 'Whatever happens, Chris, I'll be there fer ya,' he silently vowed.

Chris heard voices and wondered why they were talking as if he wasn't in the room. He opened his eyes as pain jolted him completely awake. "Dammit!" he hissed.

"Easy, Chris," Jackson told him. "Try not to move around too much."

"Can't seem to move around at all," Larabee explained. "How long?"

"Do you mean how long have you been sleeping?"

"Yeah."

"It's been nearly two days. I've got some water here for ya," Jackson explained.

Larabee smiled gratefully as Jackson lifted his head and helped him drink from the glass, not an easy feat with the gunslinger still lying on his stomach. Chris stared at the ladies man standing just behind Jackson. "T...the town okay?" he asked.

"The town's fine, Chris," Wilmington told him.

"Everyone okay?"

"Everyone's fine. Vin and Ez are out on patrol. JD and Josiah are at the jail. The judge should be here in a couple of days to put those men on trial."

"Good," Larabee said softly. "Nathan, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Chris. Doc says my leg's just about healed up."

"Where is the doc?"

"He's sleeping. The man's plum wore out. He seems to think we're all a bunch of stubborn jackasses," Jackson laughed.

"You've said the same thing yourself many times, Nate," Larabee quipped. "Nathan?"

Jackson heard the serious tone in the gunslinger's voice and knew what he was going to ask. "You need to give it time, Chris, there's still a lot of swelling," he told him.

Larabee nodded and let his eyes slide shut once more.

"Think you could eat something, Chris?" Jackson asked.

"Think so," the gunslinger answered.

"Buck, go see if Inez has any broth."

"Right away, Nate," Wilmington assured him and hurried from the room.

"Broth?" Larabee asked distastefully.

"That's about it for now, Chris. Give it a few days and we'll give you something more."

The two men lapsed into silence as they waited for Wilmington to return from the saloon. Larabee's thoughts turned to the look on the sharpshooter's face when he'd last been awake. He knew the younger man was still carrying a load of guilt and he vowed to make sure that guilt was erased before it went any further. He knew the only way to wipe away that guilt was to make sure he got back on his own two feet. He opened his eyes as the door to the clinic opened and the ladies man entered carrying a tray covered with a linen napkin.

"Hey, Stud, Inez fixed ya up some real good broth."

"Broth's never good, Buck, don't matter who makes it," Larabee hissed as he tried to turn on his side.

"Hang on, Chris," Jackson warned. "Buck, I'm gonna ease him onto his side. You put those pillows under him so he can lean onto them."

"Sure thing, Nate," Wilmington placed the tray on the small table and did as Jackson told him. By the time they had the gunslinger on his side, the man's face paled considerably and his fists were clenched at his side. "Easy does it, Stud," the ladies man rubbed the blond's exposed shoulder in an effort to help him through the new pain wracking his body.

"T...thanks, B...Buck," he hissed gratefully.

"Here, Chris," Jackson held a spoonful of laudanum in front of the gunslinger's mouth and waited for him to take it. It was a testimony to how much pain Larabee was in when he took it without protest. "Just give it a couple of minutes and it should help."

With very little energy left the blond simply nodded. The pain eased off and Chris opened his eyes, grateful to see the two men still with him.

"Better?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"Yeah," the blond answered weakly.

"Do you feel like eating now?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah," Larabee answered. With Wilmington and Jackson's help Chris finished off the broth and the juice Inez sent with it. With a mumbled thanks to the two men he let himself fall asleep once more.

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"What are his chances of walking again?" the ladies man asked softly.

"Buck, I wish I could tell you but I just don't know. He's still got some healin' to do before we even know if he can move his legs."

"What'll happen if he can't?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it, Buck. Look, he was able to walk once the swelling went down the last time so there's hope that the same thing will happen this time. It's just a matter of waiting for it to happen."

"Chris ain't a patient man."

"Are any of us, Buck?" Jackson asked seriously.

Wilmington smiled at the tired healer. "No, Nathan, I don't think we are. Why don't you go on over an lie down for a while? I'll stay with him till the doc comes back."

Jackson rubbed his eyes and nodded. "Just make sure he don't try to get off that bed."

"I will," the ladies man vowed.

Vin sat watching the sleeping man. It was a week since Archer and his gang came to Four Corners seeking revenge and leaving Larabee once more unable to move his legs. Aside from doing his patrol and staying with the injured gunslinger he'd been checking on Larabee's shack and making sure Pony was exercised daily. He closed his eyes and replayed the last incident with Archer and the shot he'd taken to save the blond's life.

"Vin?"

Tanner opened his eyes and stared into the green eyes of his friend. "How're you feeling, Chris?" he asked.

"Better," Larabee answered and smiled at the unbelieving look in the younger man's eyes. "Really, Vin, it's not nearly as bad as it was. Maybe the swelling is finally going down just like Nathan and the doc have been saying."

"I hope so, Chris," Tanner said, standing and moving to the window.

"What's wrong, Vin?"

The sharpshooter stared out into the street, watching as the people of Four Corners walked around as if everything was right with the world and that walking was a natural part of their existence. Taking for granted the gift God had seen fit to bestow upon them. The gift of walking from one point to another without fear of losing that ability. "I's jest thinkin'" Tanner answered.

The words were barely audible, but for Chris Larabee they told the story of just how much his injuries were hurting the younger man. "Thinking about what?"

Tanner moved away from the window and faced the older man once more. "About how we take things fer granted," he answered.

"Such as?"

"Such as being able ta get up in the morning and stand on my own two feet."

"Are you still blaming yourself, Vin?" Larabee asked.

"No one else ta blame, Chris. It's my fault yer here."

"No it's not. Jesus, Vin, how the hell did you come to that conclusion?"

"Easy, Chris, I dropped the dynamite."

"That's right you did," Larabee snarled angrily, ignoring the look of pain on the younger man's pale face. "You dropped the dynamite. It's all your fault cause you let them put a bullet in you. Oh, and while we're at it you might as well take the blame for Archer and his gang being there! Damn, that mean's your guilty of them coming into town! Hell, for that matter you might as well take the blame for every God damned thing that's gone wrong in my life, and JD's and Josiah's and everyone else's!" the gunslinger's anger at the younger man's unfounded guilt made him push himself up on the bed. The resulting agonizing pain in his back made him gasp as he lay back on the bed and tried to curl into a tight ball.

"Chris!"

"W...what?"

"Y...you moved em!"

"Moved what?" Larabee asked and belatedly realized what the younger man meant. He lifted his head and look down at his legs, surprised to see the were slightly bent. "I...I moved them!" he whispered.

"Yes, Cowboy, you did. I'm gonna go get Nathan and the doc," Tanner grinned and moved to the door.

"Vin,"

Tanner turned back to his friend. "What"

"This is something else for you to be guilty about," the gunslinger told him. "And I won't argue with you shouldering it." Tanner's face showed he didn't understand Larabee's meaning. "You're guilty of making me angry enough to move my legs, Pard," he said gratefully.

A slight nod and a hint of a real smile were the only hints of how much he appreciated Larabee's words.

Chris watched the younger man leave and concentrated on moving his legs once more. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he watched his legs. He wanted to turn onto his back and climb out of the bed before the others returned but knew that wasn't going to happen. He concentrated all his efforts on moving his legs and didn't hear the seven men hurry into the room.

"Chris," Metcalf said as he sat in the chair by the bed.

Larabee looked at the newcomers, a thin smile on his still pale face. "I moved my legs, Doc," he said.

"That's what Vin told us. Now let's have a look at you," Metcalf said.

Jackson moved to the opposite side of the bed and helped ease the gunslinger onto his stomach once more.

The doctor and the healer examined the wound to Larabee's back, smiling at the decreased swelling and the lack of redness that were a constant presence since the injury first occurred.

"It looks as if most of the swelling is gone," Metcalf explained.

"Great!" Larabee hissed as the two men continued to probe the tender area.

"Chris, I want you to try to move your legs," Metcalf said.

The gunslinger concentrated on doing just that. The loud cheer that went up from the men in the room told him he'd succeeded.

"Very good, Chris," Metcalf grinned, he noted the exhaustion on his patient's face and knew the effort had taken a great deal out of the injured man. "Now just relax and try to sleep for awhile," he ordered.

"I'll sleep l...later," Larabee grumbled but found his eyelids closing in spite of his efforts to keep them open. "A...am kinda tired. T...thanks, V...Vin," he mumbled as he slipped into a healing sleep.

"Doc?" Tanner asked.

"He should be fine," Metcalf answered. "We're gonna need to work out a series of exercises for him to help him get his strength back. He's not gonna get up and start walking as if nothing happened. His back still needs to heal but I do believe he'll get full use of his legs back."

The smiles on the faces of the six peacekeepers showed how much the doctor's words meant to them. It would take some time but the men knew Chris Larabee would be back in the role of leader and each man was grateful they'd be whole once more.

It took several months and a lot of frustration on the part of each man before Larabee was able to make his way through the town without his friends hovering around him. He'd been grateful for their assistance as he'd learned to use his legs again and to conserve his energy. At first the effort of moving one step didn't seem worth the pain and the effort it took. As each day passed he found one of his friends there to encourage him to take one step and then another, until there came a time when he could walk to the door of the clinic unaided. That first small victory was the catalyst that led to larger steps until this day finally arrived. He walked slowly towards the saloon, feeling eyes on him as he finished the journey. His legs were aching but he'd done what he set out to do. He pushed open the saloon doors and smiled at the young man sitting in the table at the back. The guilt was finally erased from the sharpshooter's face as Larabee made his way to the table and sank into his usual chair.

"Everything ok, Vin?"

"Yep," Tanner answered. "Everything's fine."

The two men didn't need to say anymore. They'd both read the undercurrent in the statements and knew things were finally as they should be. They'd faced an adversary who'd nearly cost them their lives and once more celebrated victory. They were soon joined by the five other peacekeepers and Chris and Vin relaxed as the others used words to say what they could say with simple eye contact or a slight nod of the head. The seven were a unique group but the two men known as the leader and the sharpshooter had their own uniqueness that gave them an edge.

Chris smiled contentedly as he flexed his legs. 'Home,' he thought as he looked from one man to the next. 'Home.'

Tanner saw the look of contentment on Larabee's face and the last of the guilt left his mind. The life they'd chosen was a hard one and he knew they'd face more tests, but their friendship could withstand anything thrown their way. His eyes met Larabee's and he knew the man could read him like an open book. He smiled and relaxed in his chair, content to be among friends. 'Home,' he thought as he looked from one man to the next until his gaze once more returned to the gunslinger. 'Home.'

THE END!