Part 4

After an awkward silence, Vin cleared his throat. "So, cowboy, what's this about you not comin' with us?"

Buck forced a grin which didn't reach his eyes. "Hell, pard...I'm doin' you a favor. This way you'll catch some fish! If ole' Buck went up there...the two of you wouldn't catch a thing 'cept a cold."

Vin snorted. "Right," he drawled.

Chris studied Buck carefully. The tone was right, but the facial expression and posture were all wrong. The taller agent stood stiffly, holding his arms close to his body-not at all his usual relaxed posture. "Buck," he started.

"Chris...just let it go. Please." The last word was added almost in a whisper. That, more than anything else, convinced Chris something was really wrong. He caught Vin's gaze and indicated the door. There was a small chance, not much, that Buck would talk a little more freely if it were just he and his old partner and friend in the room.

Vin hesitated, then slid to the edge of the couch. Before he could leave the room though, a new voice joined in the conversation. Ezra stood behind Buck in the doorway with a newspaper clutched in his hand. "Mr. Wilmington, I'm afraid I have gleaned some most unwelcome information from my perusal of this periodical."

His voice startled all three of the others. Chris recovered first. "What?" he demanded, feeling his shoulders tighten even more with tension.

Ezra glanced at him, but then directed most of his attention to Buck. "You remember that delightful little eatery we patronized the night before last?"

Buck frowned. "The place with the funny name? Yeah, I remember. They didn't cook the steak long enough. So?"

"Not everyone thinks beef should be charred until it resembles leather," the undercover agent retorted. Then a rather chagrined look crossed his face. "However, in this instance, it does seem that your opinion was more correct than my own." He waved the paper in the air. "Unfortunately, it appears that we were exposed to a mild form of food poisoning."

"What?" Chris exclaimed, rising from his desk. Vin snatched the paper from Ezra's hand and handed it to the team leader. "Downtown Restaurant Warns Customers of Food Poisoning Outbreak."

Chris' gimlet eyes quickly scanned the article, then looked up at his two agents. "Says here seafood was tainted," he pointed out. The leader frowned. In the time he'd known Ezra, he'd never seen him eat cooked fish. "Buck, you let him drag you into a sushi bar?"

"Hell, no," his old friend growled.

Ezra sighed. "It wasn't sushi. It was bouillabaisse. We both had it for the first course."

"Buck ordered fish soup?" Chris asked in astonishment.

"No, Ezra ordered it for both of us. I just ate it." Buck shrugged at the look on Chris's face. "I was hungry," he said defensively. "Hell, it was almost ten before we even got there!"

"Either of you feel sick?" Vin questioned.

Buck and Ezra exchanged glances. Ezra shrugged, and Buck nodded. "Kind of," he admitted.

"We'd better take both of you to the E.R." Chris said.

"I hardly think that's necessary," Ezra interjected quickly. He indicated the paper still clenched in Larabee's hand. "The newspaper typifies it as a mild illness. The symptoms don't sound pleasant, but the indicated treatment-rest, fluids-is available in my own condominium."

"Or my place," Buck hastily agreed.

"Alone?" Vin broke in. He shook his head.

"The average case isn't serious," Chris pointed out. "Says here it could be a lot worse. And I know both of you-you wouldn't go to a doctor on your own until you were half-dead, and by then you might not be able to get there."

Ezra sighed. "Mr. Larabee, it is food poisoning, not the bubonic plague."

"With you, it might well be," Chris fired back.

"Chris, you're as bad as a mother hen with her chicks." Buck shook his head. "Would you two just get goin'? Those fish are waitin' for you."

Ezra groaned. "Please don't mention the word, 'fish' again, Mr. Wilmington."

"I told you that soup was disgusting!"

"You consumed two servings!"

"Shut up, both of you," Chris ordered, stopping the bickering. He hesitated. He could hardly subject either or both of them to a six-hour drive to the cabin in Wyoming-but he didn't feel comfortable leaving them either. He slowly met Vin's eyes and saw his own resolution confirmed there. "Vin and I'll-"

"No!" Buck broke in fiercely. "There ain't no reason you two should miss your vacation. You've been looking forward to this trip for-"

"You were looking forward to it, too," Vin muttered softly. "At one point, at least."

Buck shot him a glance, then met Chris's eyes. "Look, Ezra and I live, what? Five miles from each other? We can keep an eye on each other. I'll call him every day...a couple of times a day."

"I will likewise telephone Mr. Wilmington...and if he doesn't answer I can always dispatch paramedics to his abode...providing they could find him in that unqualified disaster he calls his home," Ezra chimed in.

Buck kicked his ankle. "You ain't helping," he muttered.

Chris wasn't convinced, but he could sense he'd pushed as far as a friend could. To go any further would move from the "friend" standing into the "boss" standing, and would lead to a much longer argument. Chris didn't have the energy for it and from the looks of him, neither did Buck. Ezra, on the other hand, would fight him tooth and nail just to be obnoxious-he was in that kind of mood. Sooner or later Chris would lose his temper with him and that would inevitably lead to Standish stalking out. 'They're grown men.' "All right," he surrendered. "But I want a promise from both of you-if you get too sick you get your asses to a doctor ASAP."

"Chris," Vin started.

"You have my word, Mr. Larabee," Ezra said quickly.

"Me, too," Buck added, relief flitting across his face.

"By the time you return from your wilderness adventure, both Mr. Wilmington and myself will be fully recovered from any indisposition we might develop."

"We'll be all ready to have a fish fry with all that trout you bring back," Buck grinned.

Ezra groaned again. "I really wish you would stop talking about fish."

Juggling a bag of groceries, Ezra let himself into the condo. Flipping both locks behind him, he took the bag into the immaculate kitchen. He put away the soup, crackers, and ginger ale he'd purchased, then ran fresh water into the teakettle and put it on the stove. He opened the canister where he kept the special herbal tea he'd found at the specialty shop near the Federal Building. He frowned, seeing only about a dozen bags were left. 'That's odd...I thought I had more than that.'

The phone rang. Shrugging, Ezra dug out one teabag and left it on the counter while he went to answer. He was so sure he knew who it was that he answered "Yes, Mr. Wilmington, I arrived home safely. How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm not puking yet." His friend's voice sounded tired. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."

"And what fortunate-or unfortunate-lady is joining you there?" Ezra laughed.

Buck snorted. "I'm too tired to even think about a lady." A pause. "And if you ever tell anybody I said that I'll -"

"Shoot me?"

"No, worse...I'll shaving cream your Jag!"

"You wouldn't!" The laughter disappeared from Ezra's voice. "You would desecrate a custom paint job?"

Buck chuckled. "Or worse. I might even beat you to work next week-hell, I always beat you to work-and park in that corner spot. How do you think the Jag would look after a couple days snuggled up to Josiah's Suburban?"

Ezra shuddered. "I'm weak at the mere thought. Your secret is safe with me, Sir. So-since we both gave our word as gentlemen to Mr. Larabee about staying in contact-should we establish a check-in system to our mutual agreement?"

"Meanin', I s'pose, that you don't want me callin' you before a civilized hour-eight a.m.?" The evil glee Wilmington was feeling practically crawled through the receiver.

Ezra closed his eyes. "You're enjoyin' this," he accused.

"Hey, you ordered that God-awful soup in the first place!" Then Buck's voice changed, became more sober and serious. "And I guess I owe you one at that."

Ezra didn't understand why Buck had so seemingly changed his mind about accompanying his friends to Wyoming. 'Or maybe I do know," he thought uneasily. "Buck," he said suddenly, dropping the last name so the other man would know he was serious, "You could come stay over here. I recently purchased a bed for that small back bedroom-and there are two bathrooms."

"I appreciate that, pard. More than you know. And if I thought you'd come near my place without calling in a cleanin' service and a HazMat team, I'd return the invitation. But we've been cooped up with each other for eleven weeks now...betcha want to drink that fancy tea without me saying how much it looks like cat piss."

Ezra smiled. "There is that. And you can blast your lamentably devoid of talent CD collection as loudly as your stereo speakers and your neighbors can tolerate it."

"I'll call you tomorrow morning at ten. And you call me if you need to, no matter what time, you hear?"

"Please reserve that anxious tigress tone in your voice for those more in need of your considerable mothering abilities." In spite of his tone, a little warm feeling kindled in the loner agent's uneasy stomach at the thought that someone cared enough to worry. Josiah Sanchez was always proclaiming Team Seven was a family, a family not of blood, but of choice and destiny. It had taken a long time for the other six members to convince Ezra that he was a part of that, and still there were times-his thoughts were interrupted by the shrill whistle of the teakettle.

Buck could hear it too. "Must be time for more cat piss?" The older agent laughed, albeit tiredly. "Each man to his own poison. You just answer that damn phone at ten a.m.!"

The Next Day
Wyoming

Vin blinked his eyes and lazily rolled over. Early-morning sunshine streamed through the shuttered windows, making bars of light and shadow on the bare wood floors. Chill air bit his nose but the rest of him was warm in the sleeping bag. He could hear deep, rhythmic breathing from the bunk above him and figured Chris was still asleep. It had been well after two a.m. and raining violently when they had arrived at the cabin. Too tired to even build a fire in the fireplace, they'd unloaded the truck by flashlight and thrown sleeping bags onto the bunks before collapsing to sleep.

Not wanting to wake Chris, Vin eased out of his sleeping bag, wincing as his bare feet touched the cold floor. Grabbing his clothes, he tiptoed out of the tiny bedroom into the main room of the cabin, quietly shutting the door behind him. The hinges squeaked slightly but apparently the noise wasn't enough to wake Chris.

He found the tiny, primitive bathroom and took care of business. There wasn't any water yet-no one had primed the pump-so he dressed quickly and drew on his jacket before going out into the crisp morning air.

For a few moments he stood on the porch and admired the beauty around him. The cabin sat on a small rise overlooking the sparkling lake. Massive trees surrounded it, the only break in the forest the path to the lake and the twisting road they'd come in on. Vin had been here once before, after the McPherson case, but that had been such a desperate race against time-first to find Buck and then to get him to a doctor-that he hadn't noticed much. Now he followed the path around the cabin, finding the well.

Smoke was coming from the stone chimney before he finished priming the pump. Going back inside, Vin found a crackling fire in the fireplace. Chris was in the kitchen area. He'd lit a fire in the old woodstove as well, and an old speckled coffee pot was on one burner.

"Hey, Cowboy," he greeted Vin. "Figure out the pump?"

Tanner shrugged. "Not too much to it." He leaned against the wall, watching as Chris pulled a cast iron skillet out of a cupboard. His eyes wandered around the sparsely furnished but comfortable space, noticing the kerosene lamps on the mantel. He remembered Chris telling him about the cabin that last time, as they raced through the darkness hoping they'd get there in time to save Buck's life. Chris had talked more on that trip than in the whole time Vin had known him-trying desperately to stave off the fear they'd be too late. "We never got around to getting a generator for the place. We talk about it every time we go up there, but we never do it." He'd also mentioned that no one had ever been there besides he and Wilmington. "We were going to bring Adam up, when he was older-" but Chris's son hadn't lived long enough to make the trip with his father and "uncle".

"It's a great place," Vin commented now. "How'd you ever find it?" The cabin was nearly ten miles from a main road.

Chris glanced at him, then back at the stove. "Buck found the spot...never did tell me the story how. We built the cabin ourselves." Chris grinned. "Took a couple of years worth of vacations to get it the way we wanted it."

Vin studied his friend. Larabee's face was relaxed and good memories lit up his greenish eyes. "Sorry Buck wouldn't come along," he said quietly.

Chris' face changed. "Told you that wasn't your fault."

"You sure? No one's ever been up here but the two of you-"

"Buck invited you, remember?"

"He was out of his head at the time."

Chris shook his head. "No, he knew what he was saying. I don't know what's botherin' him, but it isn't you coming up here. He wanted you to. And he was looking forward to the trip, too. Something happened while he was under on the Hoyt case-I don't know what. Tore his report and Ezra's apart trying to figure out what, but-" he shrugged.

Vin frowned. "Ezra didn't say anything. You think he knows what it is?"

"Imagine he does." Chris gave a short bark of laughter. "I wouldn't have put it past him to come up with that food-poisoning story just to get Buck off the hook-'cept I don't think even Ezra could orchestrate a front-page article in the Clarion that quick."

Vin smiled in turn. "So you gonna call and check on 'em?"

"Every day." Chris' face relaxed again and a devilish gleam sparked in his eyes. "Have to wake up Ezra at least a couple of mornings. That's why the government gives us cell phones!"

tbc...