Buck motioned to Inez for a whiskey bottle. He smiled at her kindly when she delivered it with two glasses, but he didn't flirt with her and she understood something serious was going on. She left the items in front of Buck, but didn't inquire further. Buck took the whiskey and walked to the most secluded corner of the saloon to join Chris.

For about an hour none of the men spoke. They just administered the sharp whiskey on wounds that bruised their souls. Buck knew that guilt was eating Chris up and he wasn't going to let it finish him. Chris felt so guilty about his perceived failure with Gemma Connonlly that it was not advisable to even mention her name in front of him.

No stranger to any of the seven, Gemma Connolly had been even more persistent, and encountered more resistance, than JD Dunne in working with the unlikely lawmen in protecting the town all of them learned to call their home. Had judge Travis not enlisted her assistance in accompanying a pair of female prisoners who were to be brought for trial in Eagle Bend, she would have to have settled as a town cook. But Chris couldn't resist her involvement after that although he never tried to accept it.

Gemma grew up under Chris' roof under the watching and doting eye of his late wife. He tried his best to be a good role model and teach his sister-in-law about how to live a decent life.

But that had all ended when his wife's life did. He became increasingly hard to handle. Between bouts of extreme drunkenness he would become over-protective and over-suspicious. Gemma ran away from home six months following her sister's death. Chris believed he had driven her to that, he believed, and it never occurred to him until that moment that she was right when she said he was selfish. He never thought about how the death of her sister and her nephew might have affected her. He had always selfishly claimed the right to be devastated and angry, both from his father-in-law and Gemma. Even from Buck.

Chris looked to the man drinking next to him. Still with him, still behind him after all the violent tantrums Chris had thrown over the years, after so many efforts to alienate him.

"I drove her to this," he shared with Buck in self-pity.

"You didn't do anything Chris. She's always been independent," Buck offered honestly.

Buck had known Gemma since she was a scrawny ten-year-old. She had had the spitir of a wild mare even then. He knew Chris was blaming himself that she became a drifter in the West like the two of them. Buck believed that the circumstance had had an influence, but that Gemma was always destined for a life different to what Chris and Sarah had coveted for her.

If he thought about it, Buck couldn't have been more proud of Gemma. He loved the fact that she was in charge of her own life and unapologetically so. She worked in more jobs and more towns than he could confidently name and apart from an unfortunate spell with the leader of the Murray gang, she always held her own. She was certainly not the wilting flower that Chris had imagined her to be. After Sarah's death, he tried to fit Gemma into the mould of an ideal woman that his wife had left behind which closed his eyes to the reality of who Gemma actually was.

When she insisted on joining the group of seven hired men on their way to the Seminole village, Chris forbade it. He tried to do the same when judge Travis appointed her as an associate. But he often lost when it came to fighting Gemma. She had worked with the seven for nearly four years when she disappeared from the town from one day to another leaving more morose hearts than she gave herself credit for.

"And who the hell is that guy?" Chris' face contorted.

"Her husband, apparently."

Chris scoffed: "Husband."

"He seems like a nice guy."

Chris responded with a look that said it was dangerous to defend the man further.

"I'm sure we'll learn soon enough," Chris admitted.

"But not tonight?" Buck asked gingerly.

Chris offered his glass and Buck poured more amber liquid in it.

"Not tonight, cowboy," Chris said.

It was hard to imagine that the saloon was doubling as a courtroom only a few hours earlier because by 10pm it became such a loud and cheerfully disrespectable establishment. People drank, ate and gambled with no second thought on the fact that a man's life had hung by a thread in that very place.

Chris noticed Vin and Nathan eating their supper so he assumed that they were taking on the evening patrol. JD was about to sit next to the two men bunked up in the corner when Buck sent him away with just one shake of the head. There was no sign of Ezra even though it was his first night of freedom in weeks. Buck made a mental note to talk to the gambler. If he was ashamed of what had happened, he needed to be reassured that he was welcome back and that he would always be one of the seven.

Josiah came into the saloon as Vin and Nathan were paying. He nodded perfunctorily in their direction, but scanned the room for somebody else. His eyes fell on Chris. The town preacher walked up to the peacemakers in the deep corner slowly, showing the full range and weight of his body. He respected their de facto leader, but he wasn't in the mood for too much criticism.

"Brothers?" he asked before he sat.

Buck kicked out a chair for him. Another glass appeared on the table although none of the men could testify to seeing Inez put it down in court. Chris poured a drink for Josiah and waited. The preacher didn't touch it, preferring to drink once he was sure there was no bad blood between them.

"Is there anything I can illuminate for you, brother Larabee?"

Chris pierced him with narrow eyes.

"Where the hell did she come from?" he cut to the point.

"I telegraphed Mrs Monterrey five days ago."

"Connolly. Miss Connolly."

Josiah didn't comment.

"So you knew about her and Ezra's little escapade and you never thought to tell me? Did they tell you in confession? Because last I looked, you weren't a real preacher."

"Chris," Buck warned. He didn't like unwarranted digs at people.

Josiah didn't feel insulted, but he wasn't going to allow Chris' tone of voice for much longer.

"I didn't know how... Gemma," he used a neutral name now. "Fit into the picture. All I knew is that her name came up among the papers that brother Ezra asked me to check. I decided to telegraph just in case, considering the seriousness of the situation."

Chris was building a jigsaw in his mind.

"Five days? That's a tight schedule to travel the distance they had. How long did it take you to reach her?"

"There, brother, I must apologise," he lowered his head earnestly. "I've been in touch with sister Gemma since her stealthy departure."

"You knew where she was all along?" Buck was hurt.

"You knew she was getting married?" Chris flared again.

"She had mentioned it, yes."

"And you never thought to inform us? Buck at least?"

"She shared the information with me only after the fact. And sister Gemma had asked me to keep our correspondence private."

"You had no right to do that, preacher. She's my responsibility."

"Not anymore," Buck referred to Mr Monterrey, but Chris didn't see the humour in it.

Josiah reached for the glass.

"I'm deeply sorry for any wrong steps I've taken," he said raising it. The preacher made sure Chris' eyes relaxed into acceptance of his apology before all three drank.

"I will disturb you no longer," he said and left the saloon.

"It's not his fault Chris," Buck was attempting some mediation. "It's not anybody's fault."

"It's my fault," Chris believed.

"Chris," Buck started in that serious, heartfelt tone of voice which meant he was going to give you the truth you didn't want to hear.

"If you tried to stop that girl from making her own mistakes, you'd just make her itching to do more. You know she's stubborn like that. Nobody told that girl what to do sicne I'v eknown her. We both know she's been through a few bad choices. We've got scars to show for most of them," he chuckled lightly with memory. "But she's always come out stronger and wiser. And what's wonderful about that girl, she's never blamed anyone. Including herself," he paused.

"That's why she can prance into a town that barely accepted her like she's returning queen with a smile on her face the size of Texas and a heart was warm as an afternoon in the desert. She'll have this whole town eating out of her hand by Saturday."

Chris looked annoyed, but just like Buck had calculated, too drunk not to sit through his speech.

"But I reckon there's only one person's blessing she's looking for. And it's been a long time coming."

"You just said it, she's never needed my blessing for anything. She didn't ask for my blessing when she rode with the Rangers following you around or when she ran around town with Standish like she was his second horse."

"Now you hold on," Buck had played his cards perfectly. Sober Chris would have shot him long ago. That's why he wasn't going to ease on him now. "You and I both know that that girl will forever be like the first flower of spring in our minds. But don't think I'll elt you drag her through mud just to make yourself suffer."

Chris was slipping in melancholia under the weight of whiskey.

"She's the only thing I've got," he slurred.

"Maybe you should tell her that," Buck mused then smiled.

"Tomorrow," he said as he poured another shot into the blonde man's glass.