RPS5

Nathan leaned on a tree near to the edge of the clearing and stared at the town, his brow creased with a frown as he listened carefully to pops echoing in the distance. It sounded like a gunfight...

"Cause for concern, Nathan?"

The healer turned at the sound of the weak voice. Ezra was sitting nearby, propped up against a rock, his red jacket thrown loosely over his bare shoulders and only partially hiding the bandages wound tightly around his middle. His eyes were half-open, but there was no mistaking the light of concern that shone in their sea-green depths.

Nathan threw one more anxious glance at the town, then hurried back to his patient. "Nothin' to get excited about," he said cautiously as he crouched beside his comrade. "You got to be takin' it easy anyway, you ain't been awake for too long."

Ezra coughed and scowled, throwing Nathan a look of pure annoyance. "I refuse to be coddled at a time like this," he said, trying to sit up more. "There is far too much at stake. Perhaps we should go back to town and assist the others..."

The other man shook his head at once, a smile of surprise on his face. "Dang, Ezra, I just spent an hour fixin' you up! Why you so all-fire to go ridin' into trouble again?"

The gambler hesitated, his expression indicating that his motives were something he'd rather not reveal. "Why...why, merely so we can fulfill our obligation and receive the just rewards, of course."

"Uh huh," Nathan nodded, still smiling. "Nothin' else?"

Ezra frowned, but couldn't stop the corner of his lip from twitching. "Mr. Jackson, a man in my itinerant profession cannot afford to indulge in sentimental notions. Our continued employment is a concern to me for financial reasons only, I assure you."

A slight grin continued to play on the healer's lips as he bent to check on Ezra's bandages. "Yeah, okay, Ezra. Shoulda known money was all you cared about." He didn't sound entirely serious, and his dark eyes darted to study Ezra's face before returning their full attention to his wound.

The Southerner refused to be caught out, although for a moment he seemed genuinely surprised at Nathan's keen insight. "I was unaware you had added mind reader to your list of-"

He stopped and looked up at the town suddenly. Nathan heard it, too, and turned as well, watching the road leading from the town into the desert.

The sound of hoofbeats was becoming increasingly audible, coming from the direction of the town and getting closer every second.

"Here," Nathan said quickly, drawing one of his guns and handing it to Ezra. "Just in case they ain't friendly."

"A wise precaution," Ezra commented, checking the chamber. As he did so, Nathan went to the side of the road and peered as far down it as he could.

A few moments passed, as the hoofbeats pounded closer. Ezra, unable to stand just yet, sat and waited impatiently.

"Why, that-" Nathan suddenly exclaimed, taking a step back and reaching for his gun. "It's Wyatt, an' it looks like he's been shot!"

Ezra sighed and shook his head. "Riding out of town in disgrace again. Apparently he has no compunction against repeating himself."

"He's comin' this way," Nathan continued quickly, hurrying to his horse.

"Shall I-?" Ezra held up the gun.

Nathan shook his head fiercely. "Shootin's too good for him."

The rider was nearly on top of them, and a second later Wyatt burst into view, dusty, sweaty, half-covered with blood. He paused only for a second and squinted into the darkness, perhaps thinking Ezra and Nathan might be strangers who could assist him. Once he recognized them, his eyes grew wide, and he whirled quickly around and viciously spurred his horse away with loud and anxious cries.

"Hey!" Nathan shouted, heaving himself into his saddle and taking off after him. Soon they were both obscured in a cloud of dust.

Nathan had never ridden so fast in his life. He bent low over his horse's neck, concentrating fully on the figure not too far in front of him. Wyatt was riding just as furiously, digging his spurs deep into his mount's side.

But Nathan's horse was stronger and swifter than Wyatt's mount, and Nathan was consumed with determination to bring the fleeing man to justice. He did not know what had happened in town; Chris and the others might be hurt, or dead, innocent people injured-there was no way, right now, to find out. All the healer knew was that Wyatt had tried to destroy the only peace and justice Four Corners had known for years, and he could not be allowed to escape again.

The two men pounded down the dusty mountain road, Nathan close on Wyatt's heels. As he urged his mount on, he felt the old anger swell through him, strengthening his resolve. Once more he could sense the rough rope around his neck, feel the sickening helplessness as he watched the only man who could aid him ride away. Now Wyatt had endangered not only Nathan's life, but those of his friends, and the future of the town he called his home.

He was not going to ride away this time.

His horse pulled even with the flank of Wyatt's mount. As both horses galloped down the road, Nathan reached out and tried to grab hold of Wyatt's shirt. Wyatt jerked his head around, saw Nathan, and lashed out with his good arm, catching the healer on the temple.

Nathan's head snapped back, and for an instant the world reeled. Quickly he shook it off and resumed the chase, more driven than ever. Once more he overtook Wyatt and managed to latch his hand onto the back of Wyatt's empty gunbelt. Wyatt let out an oath and flailed his arm out, trying to disarm his opponent. As their horses slowed and reared at the commotion, Nathan and Wyatt locked arms and fell, grappling violently, into the dirt.

Punches flew quickly as each man struggled to free himself from the grip of the other. At first Nathan hesitated to use his full strength; his adversary was, after all, wounded, and the healer's instinct was to treat the injured with care. Then Wyatt landed a solid blow across Nathan's jaw. As the healer's head snapped back, he felt the coppery taste of blood fill his mouth and saw Wyatt's hand trying to grab Nathan's remaining gun from its holster.

"Damn darky!" he heard Wyatt muttering over the sounds of their combat, "Too bad you didn't swing-"

Hell with bein' careful, Nathan thought angrily, and rearing back, he punched Wyatt across his face as hard as he could manage.

Wyatt's head flew back, and he let out a choked gurgle, his hand falling away from Nathan's holster. Furious beyond control, Nathan grabbed Wyatt by his lapels and lifted his head and shoulders off the ground, shaking him in rage as he spoke.

"You best worry 'bout yourself swingin', Wyatt!" he said in a loud voice. "You're through hurtin' folks that trusted you! I ain't gonna let you do that no more, understand? Not now that I can put a stop to it!"

Wyatt sneered through the blood on his face as he tried to break from Nathan's iron grip. "Who the hell do you think you are to say that shit to me, Jackson?"

Nathan's face wrenched up in disgust and he climbed to his feet, Wyatt's shirt still held in his clenched fists.

"I'm who you used to be, Wyatt," he said as he labored to catch his breath, his brown eyes locked with Wyatt's. "I'm a lawman of Four Corners, an' you're under arrest."


Ezra had been eyeing the town with concern from his seat against the rock when he heard the sound of approaching horses coming back up the trail from the mountain. He sat up as much as the pain and weakness from his wound would allow, the gun in his hand primed just in case.

Relief flooded through his tired frame when Nathan rode into view, very dusty and rumpled, leading Wyatt's horse. The former sheriff's hands were handcuffed behind him, and several lengths of rope secured his arms even more against his body.

Ezra drew a deep breath as he relaxed against the rock. "I see your pursuit was successful," he observed, a slight smile on his lips. "Are you uninjured?"

"Yup," Nathan replied as he reined in and dismounted, wiping at the dried blood on his mouth with the back of one hand. "Just a sore jaw is all."

"Splendid," Ezra said with a gold-toothed grin as he turned his attention to Wyatt. "Greetings again, Mr. Wyatt. I presume your evening is not going as well as my associate's here."

Wyatt scowled at him. "Go to Hell, Standish."

Ezra's lip twitched in scorn as he lifted the gun in his hand and covered Wyatt with it. "By all means, sir-you first."

Nathan mopped the sweat from his brow and looked down at Ezra, studying the Southerner closely. "Feel up to goin' back to town an' seein' what happened?"

For a moment Ezra looked as if nothing short of two broken legs would keep him from finding out if the town was safe, but he swiftly hid it beneath a calm demeanor as he said, "I, er, believe that I am capable of such a journey..."

The sound of several approaching horses interrupted his sentence. For a moment Wyatt perked up, hopeful, but an instant later Chris and Buck galloped into view.

"Hey!" Nathan called in greeting as they reined in. "We was just comin' to see if you was still alive."

"Oh, we're still kickin', pard," Buck assured him as he leaned over the pommel of his saddle and crossed his hands. "Can't say the same for most of Wyatt's gang, though."

Wyatt's face fell.

"Still cheatin' death, Ezra?" Chris asked as he regarded the gambler, who was getting to his feet very slowly with Nathan's help.

"Handily, Mr. Larabee," Ezra replied in a panting voice as he finally straightened and squared his shoulders. "Would you care to enlighten us as to what has transpired in our fair town?"

Chris paused, then gave Wyatt one of the most deadly looks ever to cross his face. "We'll give you the details later. All that matters is, we're all still alive an' this piece of scum's goin' to jail."

"You'll find it real interestin' there, Wyatt," Buck promised with a grin. "Got a few of your boys in there. That red-headed kid's singin' like a bird about how you was gonna fool everyone into givin' you your job back so's you could get rich off the town."

"That's a lie!" Wyatt snapped in rage.

As Nathan helped Ezra get onto Chaucer's back, Chris steered his horse over to Wyatt until the two men were facing each other.

"Somehow," he said softly, his green eyes drilling into Wyatt's soul, "I don't think even Mr. Conklin will believe you this time, Wyatt."

He turned his horse around and rode away. Wyatt could say nothing, and before long they were moving down the moonlit road towards home.



By the time they rode back into town, most of the townspeople had emerged from their hiding places and were cautiously making their way back to their homes. As Chris trotted by with Wyatt in tow, he met the eyes of every single one of them. Some dropped their gaze in shame for having spoken against the lawmen; others smiled and waved their hats or nodded. A few hurled angry epithets at the former sheriff and loudly expressed their desire to see him hang.

Buck and Ezra stopped at the saloon.

"I'll join ya as soon as I haul Ezra here up the stairs," Buck told the others as he dismounted.

"Much obliged," Ezra muttered in a weary voice as Buck carefully helped the pale gambler off his horse.

The others rode forward and reined in at the jail, and Chris was pulling Wyatt roughly to the ground before the others were even out of their saddles.

"Think this place will look mighty familiar to you," he grunted as he dragged Wyatt inside, heedless of the man's wounds and struggles.

The jail was downright crowded inside. Josiah sat at the desk, feet propped up, watching the occupants of the two cells with mild amusement. JD was standing near the cell, arms crossed, listening with apparent interest to Huston, who was talking rapidly and with great gusto.

"See, Wyatt thought if we killed somebody who kinda looked like Roy an' mangled up the body, you folks'd think it *was* Roy an' wouldn't try to find 'im-"

"Shut up, Huston, you idiot!" his fellow prisoner was yelling from the adjacent cell.

"Chris!" Josiah exclaimed, sitting up as soon as his friend entered the room. His gaze dropped to Wyatt. "See you caught 'im."

The other two prisoners were watching now as well, each man gripping the bars in amazement.

"This is horseshit!" Wyatt cried, twisting in Chris's grip.

Chris ignored him and studied the two cells. "What do you think, Josiah?"

The preacher looked over to Huston and Parker and thought for a moment. "Better put him with the older guy on the right-the kid's been downright amusin', I'd hate for Wyatt to kill 'im before he finished spilling his guts. Told us everything about Wyatt's plans."

Wyatt gasped and stared at Huston.

"It's true, Wyatt," Parker said angrily, glaring at Huston. "Tried to stop him, but they know it all now."

"We sure do," JD said, coming up behind Wyatt and reaching into the man's coat pocket. After a second of digging, he pulled out a large, slightly rusty key, tossing it into the air a little before catching it in his hand with a smile. "Always wondered where the extra key to the cells went!"

"That's how he freed the guy who attacked Mary," Josiah explained to Chris. "Guess he took it with him when he left town."

"Figures," Chris grunted, dragging the former sheriff over to the cell as JD unlocked the door. Josiah was behind them, his gun trained on Parker just in case. Parker, however, was staring at Wyatt in murderous fury and did not seem interested in escape.

"This is all a mistake!" Wyatt was yelling as Chris took hold of his collar and shoved him into the cell with Parker.

"Listenin' to you was the mistake, you damn bastard!" Parker cried, leaping onto Wyatt as soon as he was close enough to do so and pummeling him with his fists. Wyatt, still bound, gave his former comrade a kick and began screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. Safe in the next cell, Huston watched, smirking.

"HEY!" Chris yelled, firing his gun twice into the old wooden ceiling.

The two men ignored him.

"You were gonna cut us out-" Parker was grunting as he began to choke Wyatt.

"You all double crossed me!" Wyatt spat back, trying to twist out of Parker's grip.

"I said STOP IT!" Chris bellowed, and fired his gun into the cell. The bullet spattered in the dirt, inches from the two men.

They stopped and looked up at him.

Chris was still aiming into the cell. "Next one goes into one of you, I don't care which."

They glowered at him, then separated, pushing off into different corners.

"Ain't you at least gonna untie me?" Wyatt coughed, holding up his bound hands.

Chris was walking away. He half-turned to Wyatt and shrugged. "Get your friend to do it-if you can. We'll have somebody fix your wounds in a while."

He turned again and left the holding area. As JD locked the barred door, Wyatt glanced at Parker.

Parker merely glared, snarled an obscenity at him, and sat down heavily on the bunk, holding his hastily bandaged hand.

Wyatt blinked and looked around, his gaze falling on Huston. His expression turned deadly. "If it weren't for these bars, you stupid little shit, I'd kill you," he growled. "Why the hell did you tell them about the key?"

Huston scowled at Wyatt and leaned on the bars of his cell. "If I'm gonna save my neck sellin' you out, Wyatt, why the hell shouldn't I? You treated me worse'n dirt ever since we met. Never liked that, Wyatt, an' all I ever wanted to do was get away from it. Well, guess prison'll be far away enough, an' seein's as how your plottin' got us here, I reckon it's fair that you get caught out same as Parker an' me."

Wyatt groaned and put his head in his hands as Parker said bitterly, "I always *told* you to shoot that stupid kid, Wyatt."

"How's Ezra?" Josiah asked Chris as the gunslinger headed for the door. JD stepped up close to hear the answer as well.

"He'll make it," was Chris's reply as he straightened his tousled clothing. "Buck took him up to his room, an' Nathan's at Mrs. Potter's checkin' on Vin. I'm headin' there now."

"Thank the Lord," Josiah said with a nod as he folded his hands. "You go on an' give our best to Mrs. Potter, we'll keep things quiet here."

Chris glanced back at Parker and Wyatt glaring at each other, and Huston, who had started talking to JD again.

"Good luck," he muttered, and hurried out into the dark spring night.



Vin fidgeted impatiently as Mrs. Potter finished tying off the last of the bandages around his shoulder. He shifted on the red damask sofa and looked towards the window, his blue eyes anxious in the yellow light of the parlor lamp.

"Easy, Mr. Tanner," Mrs. Potter advised him as she dipped her blood-speckled hands into a nearby bowl of pinkish water. Her twelve-year old son George stood behind her, and handed her a towel when she was finished. "You'll open that wound right back up again, and then I'll have to explain that to Mr. Larabee."

Vin sighed and tried to settle back. It should be easy, he figured, he felt very weak and in desperate need of rest. Mrs. Potter gave him a stern but gentle warning look as she dried her hands, and he smiled a little.

"Sorry, ma'am," he offered, leaning back. "Just hate bein' outta the fight when y'all need me, an' no word yet from Chris."

Mrs. Potter began rolling down the sleeves of her water and blood-stained blouse in a highly practical manner. "Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Dunne said they'd let you know when your friends returned, and I am sure they will keep their word," she admonished him, brushing a few tendrils of hair out of her eyes.

Vin's lip twitched in chagrin, and he regarded the older woman warmly. "I wanna thank you, Mrs. Potter, for fixin' me up. You an' your boy did a right fine job."

She smiled at her son, then at Vin as she began to put away the red-stained rags which lay in a heap at her feet. "After all you and your friends have done for us, Mr. Tanner, this is nothing. If it-"

Her words were cut short by the sound of feet running up to the front door of the small home. The footsteps reached the stoop, there was a pause, then a short series of respectful but somewhat frantic knocks.

George opened the door, and Nathan stepped in, dusty and out of breath.

"Evenin', ma'am," he said, taking off his hat.

"Nathan!" Vin said as he sat up, his blue eyes wide now. "What's goin' on? You seen Chris?"

Mrs. Potter rose quickly from her stool, and Nathan hastily occupied it, holding out one hand to calm Vin down. "Don't go gettin' riled, everything's over now. Chris is right behind me."

Vin was staring at the bruise on Nathan's temple and the dried blood near his mouth. "You get in a fight?"

"Oh-" Nathan rubbed at the blood absently, a smile drifting across his lips. "Wyatt tried to run off again. Rode right past me an' Ezra, I caught him before he got too far. He didn't take too kindly to bein' arrested by a darky, so I had to do a little persuadin'."

Vin leaned back against the soft sofa, his golden-brown curls spreading behind him. "Bet that felt good," he chuckled.

Nathan nodded, unable to suppress a triumphant smile. "Yup, sure did."

Another knock came at the door, and Chris was admitted. He nodded to Mrs. Potter as he took off his hat, his spurs jangling against the hardwood floor as he stepped into the parlor.

"Evenin'. Mrs. Potter," he said in a weary but respectful voice. "Just wanted to make sure Vin was still breathin'."

Vin snorted, but his blue eyes looked relieved to see Chris still in one piece. "It'll take more'n that sorry varmint to put me in the ground, Larabee," he said in a tone of mock insult. "Heard we won this time."

Chris nodded as he drew one hand through his dusty blonde hair. There was no gloating triumph in his eyes, just weary acceptance, as he simply muttered, "Yeah, we did, thanks to so me damn hard fighting."

As the healer lifted the bandages a bit, Vin winced and asked, "Ezra still kickin'?"

"Yep, Buck took him up to his room," Nathan replied as he studied the wound. "He's wore out an' gonna be sore for a while, but he'll be fine."

Vin blew out a breath and shook his head. "Sure took grit for him t'ride all that way with a hole in his side."

"You were all quite heroic," Mrs. Potter observed as she put her arm around her young son. "It appears that we are in your debt once more."

Vin shifted on the sofa and gave her a lopsided grin, his blue eyes twinkling. "Just doin' our jobs, Mrs. Potter." He looked at Nathan, still smiling. "Reckon we got 'em for a while longer yet."

Nathan smiled and nodded, obviously pleased. "S'pose so."

Chris's expression became pensive, as if this fact struck him too deep for words. He simply glanced up at Mrs. Potter, who gave him an understanding smile. They both knew the profound importance of the work the seven had done, and the relief that they would be permitted to continue their duties for as long as they were needed.

Nathan tucked the last of Vin's wrappings back into place. "Them bandages look good, now let's get you on over to my clinic. You need a night's sleep in a real bed, not that ol' wagon."

Vin tried to shrug it off as Nathan and Chris helped him slowly to his feet. "I've slept on desert rocks after gettin' banged up worse'n this, Nate. Ain't nothin' wrong with my wagon."

"Maybe," Nathan replied, putting his hat back on, "but I don't wanna hear you complainin' if you're too wore out to watch Irving Wyatt get his justice."

Vin picked up his shirt, jacket and hat with one stiff arm, his handsome face grim in the dim light. "I wouldn't let nothin' stop me from seein' that. Not after all the harm he's done."

"Then one night at the clinic should suit you just fine," Nathan remarked, turning to Mrs. Potter. "Much obliged for your help, ma'am. You an' your boy go get some rest now."

"Good night, boys," Mrs. Potter said as her son opened the door and the men nodded their good nights to her. "And thank you-even if it might not seem so, we're all mighty grateful it worked out this way."

Chris looked at her and tugged his hat brim in farewell.

"So are we, ma'am," he said in a rough voice, and he, Vin and Nathan stepped out the door into the darkness of the early morning.



The golden light of dawn saw Four Corners trying to put itself back together after the excitement of the previous evening. News spread quickly of how Wyatt and his men were apprehended or killed, and of the actions of the seven to bring the outlaws to justice. While Ezra and Vin indulged in some much-needed healing sleep, their comrades found themselves dealing with the aftermath of Wyatt's deceitful activities.

JD had to fight his way through a small mob outside of the jail, all of whom were clamoring for Wyatt's blood. The young man threw them an amazed look, glanced at Josiah who was standing watch by the door, shook his head in surprise, and went inside.

Chris was sitting at the desk, glaring keenly at the prisoners, as JD came in. Buck was sitting on a chair by the cells, his gun in plain view, patiently watching the cells and chewing on a toothpick.

"Ain't seen it like this since we had that James guy!" JD exclaimed as he shut the door. He nodded at the prisoners, all of whom were silently watching the lawmen in return. "They say anything?"

"Not a peep, kid," Buck said, regarding them with a wry smile. "The quiet's been right nice."

"Get any replies to those telegrams?" Chris asked, turning his gaze to JD.

"Oh, yeah," the young man responded, dropping his eyes to the yellow pieces of paper he held in one hand. "Once they found out we had the men they were lookin' for, they sent their messages right away. The deputy from Vista City is comin' for Parker, an' the sheriff's brother from Red Rock will be here for Kingsley, just as soon as Wyatt's trial is over."

Huston began to look worried. Parker frowned but showed no other emotion.

"And-" JD read over three more telegrams. "-looks like Wyatt's a wanted man in three different places for robbery."

"Three to choose from, huh?" Buck studied Wyatt and shook his head. "Maybe we'll just have to hang you three times."

Wyatt fumed at him, but stayed silent.

The door to the jail opened, and Josiah poked his head in. "Chris, someone here wants to see Wyatt. I'm thinkin' we should let 'im."

Chris looked at JD and Buck, then shrugged. "Long as they ain't gonna shoot him, fine."

Josiah stepped away from the door, and Mr. Conklin walked in.

Chris sat up, surprised. JD and Buck were just as amazed, regarding the older man with wide eyes, not knowing what to expect. Conklin looked very old and tired, his bluster gone as he looked at the lawmen, his expression chagrined and deeply embarrassed. He said nothing, simply nodding to them.

"Harry!" Wyatt exclaimed, his cry shattering the silence as he jumped to his feet and came forward, grasping the bars. "I'm glad you came by-you have no idea how terrible I feel about...about, um..."

His voice trailed off as Conklin approached the bars. The old man's face changed drastically, going from embarrassment to blatant fury in a matter of moments. He stared at Wyatt, his small eyes blazing, his pale face almost red with rage.

"Now, Harry," Wyatt said when he could find his voice again; the words were not so sure now, "you know this is all a huge misunderstanding, right? Larabee and his men, they're trying to discredit me. You've got to tell everyone what a mistake this is, Harry. You're my only hope now, you know how this has all been turned around, I'll hang if you don't help me. We've got to stop them, Harry, give this town the law it deserves. We...we..."

Conklin was still glaring silently at him. He plunged his hand into one pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, holding it up for Wyatt to see. It was the telegram he had composed and displayed at the town meeting, asking Judge Orin Travis to replace the seven hired guns with Wyatt.

Without hesitation, Conklin took hold of the paper and tore it to pieces in front of Wyatt's eyes, his hands shaking with fury, his outraged eyes locked with Wyatt's. Finally he balled up the tattered scraps in one hand and flung them to the floor in complete disgust. Giving Wyatt one final angry look, Conklin turned and walked away without a single hesitant step.

He paused at the desk and looked at Chris in a very uncertain manner, his expression embarassed and ashamed. After looking at the somber gunslinger in silence for a few minutes and trying to speak, Conklin simply shook his head as if admitting his inability to say a single word and walked out into the street.

Buck sighed and folded his arms. "Reckon that's 'bout as close to an apology from ol' Conklin as we're likely to get."

His friend shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "Guess so."

Josiah stepped in, his head turned as he watched Conklin stride away. "Everythin' all right in here?" he said at length, turning to face his friends.

"Yeah, think so, Josiah," Buck replied with a nod, turning his gaze twoards the former sheriff's cell. "Reckon our Prodigal Son's finally learned his lesson, even if it did take a while."

They all looked at Wyatt. Huston and Parker were smirking, while Wyatt was staring at the mangled bits of paper in stunned surprise.

"Least he didn't shoot 'im," JD said quietly to Chris.

Chris was closely studying Wyatt's shocked, frightened expression. The former sheriff seemed to be just realizing that there would be no escape this time.

"I think Wyatt's wishing he had," he observed.



The sound of the rapping gavel rang like a gunshot through the silence of the Grain Exchange, and the stern voice of the Honorable Judge Orin Travis followed it in tones which invited no argument as it announced, "This court will now come to order."

His audience obeyed, every ear straining to hear what the venerable judge was about to say. The room was packed this cool, cloudy spring afternoon, even more so than on the evening of the town meeting. But the faces here were more solemn and angry, the atmosphere more subdued, than on that night, as many in the crowd remembered their actions then with something less than pride.

A week had passed since Wyatt's downfall; Huston and Parker were gone to their respective fates, after testifying against Wyatt during the three-day trial. Both men revealed every detail of the plan, perhaps in the hopes of earning leniency, and the anger of the townfolk mounted with every revelation when they realized how thoroughly they had been duped.

The desert had been combed for Fredericks, but the doctor had vanished with a trace. A search of his office uncovered several whiskey bottles and an assortment of doctor's supplies, but nothing else.

Ezra and Vin, pale and sore but now strong enough to appear in court, had also offered their testimony on what they had seen and heard of Wyatt's activities. They now sat with their comrades, as interested as the rest of the town in the former sheriff's fate. Mary sat by Nathan, taking notes, her expression serious.

Judge Travis cleared his throat and looked over his spectacles at Wyatt, who now stood before him in handcuffs, looking a great deal less cocky than before. "Irving Wyatt," he said in a clear, authoritative vice, "this court has heard a great deal of evidence against you, and precious little in your defense."

Wyatt threw a savage glare at Chris and his men. "Your hired guns got my friends too scared t'talk."

Travis tapped the gavel soundly on the old wooden desk. "That will be enough, Mr. Wyatt. I would urge you to reflect on your actions instead of blaming other people for the consequences of them."

Wyatt returned his gaze to the Judge and said nothing more.

"Now," the Judge continued, consulting a sheaf of papers before him, "the fact that you abandoned your sworn duty as a Federal lawkeeper alone would bring you in for some severe punishment. Your criminal activities since your departure from this town have only added to your sentence."

He sat up, folded his hands and looked Wyatt unflinchingly in the eye. "Irving David Wyatt, it is the decision of this court that you be transported to Yuma Federal Prison, where you will spend the remainder of your life."

The courtroom erupted into shocked murmurs and outright cries of outrage. The undertaker was muttering furiously; after learning that it was Wyatt who set the fire which almost burned down his business, he had been particularly looking forward to putting the former sheriff in the ground.

"Thought for sure he'd swing," Buck muttered to Ezra.

The gambler was watching Wyatt closely. "I believe Wyatt did as well," he observed, "and judging from his expression, he may have preferred it."

"Order!" the Judge commanded, rapping the desk with the gavel.

After looking uncertain for a few moments, Wyatt stepped forward. "You can't put me in Yuma, Judge," he said in a nervous voice. "I sent men there when I was a lawman."

The judge's face was set in stern lines as he regarded Wyatt. "Believe me, Mr. Wyatt, I was strongly tempted to simply send you to the gallows," he replied, "but it occurred to me that a long life behind bars, where you could contemplate the results of your actions, might be more appropriate. If you feel you will be put in a dangerous situation, may I remind you that it is no more dangerous than the situation you left these people in when you rode away from here and left the town at the mercy of lawbreakers, not to mention your more recent and far more nefarious conduct. As my daughter-in-law was one of those you imperiled, you will forgive me if I cannot summon much sympathy for you." He glanced at Josiah and Buck. "You may escort the prisoner to the jail, gentlemen, he'll be taken to Yuma within the hour."

Josiah and Buck bundled Wyatt out the door quickly; many in the crowd had risen in their seats, clearly furious at the trial's outcome.

The gavel rapped again as Travis proclaimed, "This court is adjourned."

The rumbling in the air grew louder as the townfolk streamed toward the door, many muttering angrily that Wyatt should have hung.

"Guess that's it," Vin said with a soft moan as he stood. His shoulder was still bandaged, and his left arm in a sling.

"Don't think the Judge is gonna be too popular for this," Chris told Mary as the newswoman wrote down a few more words in her notebook.

"Orin has his own reasons for his verdicts, Chris," Mary pointed out, folding the notebook closed and looking up. "He probably feels Wyatt will face more of a punishment this way."

Nathan huffed as he put on his hat. "He shoulda been hung after all he put this town through," he groused.

"I agree, Nathan," Ezra said, climbing to his feet and biting his lip against the protesting pain of his healing wound. "However, we must keep in kind that lawmen are scarcely popular figures in prison. This sentence may not be as lenient as it appears."

"Least he ain't our problem any more," JD remarked with a satisfied nod as he pulled on his bowler.

Judge Travis approached, looking weary but relieved. "Morning, boys, Mary." He pecked his daughter-in-law on the cheek.

"Judge," Chris nodded. "Better watch your step goin' out, I think you got some folks a little riled."

The Judge seemed unimpressed. "If they want to come to a hanging, they can follow me to Vista City for the trail of Wyatt's associate Tom Parker. He's wanted for the murder of a preacher there, and it's a fairly tight case against him."

JD frowned. "Any news on what happened to that Huston kid?"

Orin thought a moment. "Judge in Red Rock sent him to Yuma, too-ten years for robbing the bank there."

Vin chuckled, shaking his head. "Him an' Wyatt in the same prison-I give 'em a week before they kill each other."

"Oh, Mr. Sudbury!" The Judge gently grabbed the arm of the banker as he hurried by.

Sudbury appeared concerned, his brows knitting as he stopped. "Yes?"

"I trust you'll see to it that the money Mr. Parker gave you for the church land is turned over to the government as stolen property," the Judge instructed him, "and that the care of the church is returned to Mr. Sanchez at once?"

Sudbury swallowed and looked at Josiah sideways, embarassed. "Of course, Judge, the minute the bank reopens."

Orin smiled at him. "Make it soon."

The banker turned pale, nodded nervously, and hurried away.

"Thank you, Judge," Nathan said, positively beaming. "You got no idea what that'll mean to Josiah."

"He's earned it, Nathan," Orin replied, then looked at the men around him. "You all have. From what I hear, things were pretty rough for you boys for a while, and not many men would have fought to defend a place that had all but turned its back on them."

Chris eyed him evenly, his face somber. "You hired us to protect the whole town, Judge. That's what we'll do 'til you say otherwise."

Orin nodded proudly and took Mary's hand. "Your jobs are safe until then, boys. In the meantime, I'd suggest we get something to eat."

"The Standish Tavern is right this way, gentlemen," Ezra announced with a wide grin, directing their steps with one sweeping hand.

They stepped outside and walked down the wooden steps into the street. The clouds were breaking up, revealing glimpses of golden sunshine and bright blue sky. Chris led them down the stairs, his mind preoccupied with the events of the past several weeks, and was at the bottom when suddenly he felt Vin whap him on the arm. Startled, he stopped and looked up.

Before them stood several of the townspeople, standing in a small, anxious-looking knot by the base of the stairs. Chris swept them with a glance; they were all people who had spoken against the hired guns, many of them quite loudly. They all wore very awkward, embarrassed expressions; only a few of them dared to look the lawmen in the face.

All of the seven men, and Mary and Judge Travis, had stopped, and now stood waiting.

Finally, one of them stepped forward, with a great deal of throat-clearing. Chris realized it was Pettibone, the grocer.

"Ah, Mr. Larabee?" he said in a small voice, as he finally mustered the nerve to look Chris in the eye.

For an instant, Chris had to fight back the anger as he remembered how Pettibone had urged their dismissal. He reined it in, however, and said in as civil a voice as he could manage, "Yes, sir?"

Pettibone coughed, his face turning red. "Some of us were talking the other, uh, day, and we decided it would be, er, proper to...uh..." He paused, took a deep breath, and straightened, as if resolved to get it all done in one push. He looked at Chris squarely and continued. "We owe a lot to you and your men for backing up this town and getting rid of those outlaws, and..we...want to apologize for speaking against you. A lot of us, we..uh...we thought for sure you'd all just ride on out of here after what happened at the meeting."

Silence fell as the two groups regarded each other. The lawmen seemed genuinely appreciative of the gesture, which did not stop them from feeling a great deal of amused satisfaction at the discomfort of the embarrassed townfolk.

Chris never broke his gaze as he looked at each one of the men and women standing shamefaced before them. After a few moments, he directed his eyes back at Pettibone and simply nodded in mute acceptance of the apology. Then he moved on past the group as those behind him followed his gesture. There was a round of soft mumbling as the townfolk nodded in contrition to the lawkeepers, until finally Chris and the others were past the penitents and on their way to the Standish Tavern.

Ezra was the last one to pass by, and as he did so he smiled broadly and patted Mr. Pettibone on the shoulder.

"I admire a man of courage, sir," he informed him, "and I'm sure you will have no argument against expressing your remorse by paying for a round of steak dinners at the hotel."

The grocer grew flustered. "Oh-uh-um, sure."

Ezra gave the flabbergasted grocer one more pat on the arm and smiled, his gold tooth flashing, then trotted off to join his comrades.

Nathan smiled at his friends as he glanced back at the small, chagrined group. "Sure never expected 'em to apologize like that. Gotta admit, it felt good, though."

Chris didn't seem overly impressed. "We'll see how they feel in a few weeks when this all blows over," he said as they strode down the dusty street.

There was an agreeing grunt from Vin. "If it stops 'em from trustin' another low-bellied snake like Wyatt, that'll be good enough fer me."

As they began walking towards the Tavern, JD heard a familiar voice call his name, and turning saw Mr. Hofmann coming up beside him as fast as his wooden leg would allow.

"Mr. Hofmann!" JD said, smiling in greeting and slowing his step a bit. "Everything all right at your store now?"

"Things have been put back in even better order than before, due mostly to the efforts of my tireless assistants," Mr. Hofmann replied happily, shaking JD's hand and nodding at the other men, who all returned the gesture. "I wanted to express my thanks to all of you once again. Even in Germany I have never witnessed such devotion to duty."

The men coughed, embarrassed but pleased at the praise.

"Just like to be where we're needed," Nathan said with a grin.

"I am sure it is more than that, my friend, but we do not need to discuss it now," Mr. Hofmann said, smiling. "I have at my disposal a quantity of the finest German beer in the territory, and it would be an honor to me to share it with all of you as a token of my gratitude."

"Real German beer on a fine spring day," Vin said eagerly, looking up at the increasing blue sky. "Sounds right good to me."

"Deliver it to the Standish Tavern, my friend, and I assure you we will be able to handle the situation from there," Ezra said, clapping the jeweler on the shoulder.

Mr. Hofmann nodded. "I will do so at once, and Mr. Dunne?"

JD looked at him. "Hm?"

"If you will come to my store later," the merchant continued, leaning in closer as he walked and speaking in a confidential tone, "I have just received a very nice set of silver spurs which might make this lady friend of yours very happy, if what you have told me of her is true. And I assure you, the price will be very reasonable!"

JD perked up. "Great!"

"I will see to the delivery of the beer immediately," Mr. Hofmann announced in a louder voice, and he hurried away, his silver-headed cane swinging with every step.

"Maybe that'll help wash away the bad taste these past few weeks have caused," Nathan said as they walked to the Tavern.

"Take a while for the town to get right again," Vin mused. "Lot of folks feel mighty foolish for trustin' Wyatt."

"They should," Nathan said, traces of anger still lingering in his voice. "They clean forgot what he really was an' just listened to his lies."

"Well, Wyatt's faced his justice and his gang is broken up for good," Orin said firmly, a satisfied smile on his face as he turned his gaze towards the brightening sky. "So we won't have to hear any more tall tales."

JD laughed a little. "At least until Buck starts drinkin' that beer!"



The morning sun poured through the front doors of the church as Josiah swung them open, the glow filling the sanctuary with a warm and holy light. He walked in slowly, putting down his bag of belongings and savoring the sweet homecoming, a reverent smile on his face as he looked around at the home he had thought lost forever.

Finally he sighed and blinked at the moisture welling in the corners of his eyes.

"Well, old friend," he whispered as he pulled off his coat and began rolling up his sleeves, "seems we both still got a shot at salvation."

He picked up a hammer, smiled at the feeling of its heft in his hand, and walked through the beautiful golden glow to once more return to his work.

At the same time, up the street, Nathan was tending to a farmer who had received a nasty bite from one of his cows. As he wrapped the man's hand and explained how to care for the injury, he noticed someone else lingering just outside his clinic door, a woman and her young son. The boy looked like he had a sprained wrist; the woman was holding his hand and talking to him gently, all the while casting an imploring look at the healer.

Nathan smiled at the boy, then looked at his mother. "Hold on, ma'am, I'll be right there," he said.

She nodded.

He went back to work, shaking a few drops of sweat from his brow. Only morning and it was hot already, he thought, going to be a bad summer, and the day was already busy. Probably have folks lined up outside all day with the spring planting and kids out playing and folks acting crazy with the warm weather. He'd hardly have a chance to relax all day.

Nathan had rarely been happier.

In the saloon, Ezra was enjoying the first day of full health he'd had for quite a while, and was holding court over a full table of enthusiastic poker players. The cigar smoke hung thick in the air as the cards flew, and the talk and laughter filled the Tavern until the rafters rang. As he played, Ezra barely noticed how the cards were running; he was still reveling, privately, in the notion that he was still home, and that home would remain as it was until the good Lady Luck decided otherwise.

In the corner of the Tavern, Buck smiled at his friend's enjoyment, then turned his attention to the pretty young strawberry-blonde woman sitting next to him. They were soon deeply involved in conversation, heedless as the rest of the Tavern's society continued to flow around them.

Out in the street, Vin was riding Sire back from patrol, his long curls shining in the bright sunlight as they streamed from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. Many of the townfolk nodded to him as he passed, and he returned the gesture, grateful that most of them no longer seemed to fear for their lives while he was around. As for himself, he was resolved that if trouble came to town looking for him, he would meet it squarely, and protect the people in his care to the last drop of his blood.

He went by the Clarion News and could see Mary inside, busily preparing the next edition of the paper. It would carry the latest news, including the arrival in town of two new businesses, an indicator that the prosperity Wyatt coveted so dearly was only just beginning to bloom.

Vin barely had time to nod to JD and Casey as they trotted by on their way out for a ride. JD glanced at his friend, but most of his attention seemed to be focused on the lively young brown-haired girl who galloped beside him, radiant in her worn jeans and boyish shirt. As she passed Vin, laughing and trading youthful insults with JD as to who could ride to the creek the fastest, the tracker caught the flash of silver spurs on her heels.

Vin smiled and shook his head as he rode towards the livery, passing the jail and nodding to the blackclad figure who reclined in front of it. Chris met his glance and nodded back, the same thought reflected in the eyes of both men. Life was back to normal now that the threat was gone, but new threats would soon rise to take its place.

Chris contemplated this as he sat, his legs stretched out before him, enjoying the quiet spring day and watching the customers stream in and out of Hofmann's Jewelry and Watches. Eventually the peace would be broken, and they would be called upon to protect the town once more, to prevent its fragile new life from being extinguished too soon.

Wyatt had seen only the opportunity for gain in its prosperity; but Chris and his men knew how rare and valuable second chances were, and that their worth lay far deeper than the attainment of mere wealth. The payment would be long in coming, possibly too long for any of them to fully see it. But someday it would come, and if at that time, it was remembered that once seven men did their best to preserve the town until that day arrived, that was all the reward they required.

Chris pondered this for a while, then decided to leave the contemplations to another time. For now, he was content to enjoy the momentary peace, to think that he and his friends were once more where they should be, and to simply sit on the boardwalk and wait as the life of the town swirled around him, silently prepared for whatever the bright new day chose to bring.

THE END

Hope you enjoyed it!! I'd love to know what you thought-please send feedback to Sue at DelanySis1@aol.com.

Thanks for reading!!!

Sue :)
EBB, etc.