The four riders slowed as they neared the approach to Wheeler's Camp. They knew where Vin suspected the gang's camp to be on the bluffs above. It remained to be seen if he was right or not. They had seen no sign of the tracker, either, which was worrying. As they drew rein and dismounted in the tree line south of the creek, JD spotted a dust cloud on their trail, coming in from the east. In moments, the four men were watching as three armed riders loped easily past. Two were strangers, looking much like their own scruffy tracker, but one was a known and highly disliked hand, Jimmie Baxton, from Stewart James' ranch.

"Don't much like the looks of that," Buck said quietly, reining in his gray.

JD looked his question, while Nathan asked, "Why would Baxton be riding out here? Ain't no where near Stewart James' ranch."

Josiah gave a deep full body sigh and tugged his horse around by the reins. "I suggest we follow and find out, brothers. Like Buck, I don't much like seeing friend Baxton over here, so close to where we suspected the marauder camp to be."

Buck had already clicked his mount into a quick paced trot and the others fell in behind. They rode single file into and out of the groves of trees by the meandering creek, looking for a way up the bluff.

It was Josiah, whose patient eyes, studying everything along the way, spotted the game trail heading away from the creek. He called out a warning in a low voiced but penetrating hoot. The others drew rein and came back to join him at the head of the faint trail.

"Whoo-ee, Josiah, don't know how you spotted this!" JD stared at the trail then turned to Buck who had assumed the leadership role in Larabee's absence. "We gonna take it, Buck?"

The tall ladies man was studying the signs and, while not as good as Vin, he was a seasoned trail hand and realized this trail had not been used by shod ponies so it was probably a safe way to get closer to their quarry unannounced. He nodded slowly. "I reckon this may be our best chance." He looked around and made eye contact with each of his friends. He saw only agreement and worry. With a decisive nod, he spoke firmly, "Let's ride."

Ezra stood close beside Chris at Gant's map table. He wanted to work on Chris' wound, shallow though it was, he could see it had yet to stop bleeding. Where was Harry anyway? He chaffed at the delay, but kept his eye on Chris as he listened to Jeb Morgan explain what Stewart James wanted. Should have known that low life was behind bringing in these men to wrest control of Four Corners from the town folk and peacekeepers. The rancher wanted nothing more than to flatten the small hamlet and return the land to open grazing.

Morgan hesitated as he stared over at Chris who was beginning to lean on the edge of the table, head hung over the map. Ezra, who'd turned to watch Morgan, looked back at Chris in alarm, just as the gunslinger began to sway, his eyes closing. Swallowing his fear, Ezra gripped the wounded arm. The pain from the sudden pressure brought Larabee back to the present and he stood up again, eyes opening. "'m alright, Ez," he muttered, while Standish stared in dismay at the blood beginning to stain the edge of the map, dripping steadily now from beneath Chris' sleeve, down his wrist and hand on to the map.

Gant, who'd been listening to Jeb Morgan swung around at the sudden movements from Sutler and James. Man would need to have that tended to soon. He figured they had time since the gunman was still on his feet, so he spoke to the man in black. "Chris James? You any relation to THIS James too?"

Larabee scowled and shook his head. "No, not likely."

Ezra interrupted. "That is one of the reasons Chris used the surname Larabee here in the territories, we did not want to call attention to their shared family name, even if there is no blood tie."

Gant frowned. "Understand that. Now, this business of being law in that town?"

"Good way to look over the place." Chris was proud of his answer, he was not used to subterfuge but could carry off a limited part if push came to shove. He had a momentary flash of memory of 'shooting' Buck in an angry rage in Purgatorio as part of a ruse to save his oldest friend from a gone-bad lawman. Yep, can do it when I need to. He stole a glance over at Ezra, finding himself in need of the conman's approval.

Ezra caught the look and nodded slightly, good answer. He continued as if part of the answer was his to give. "And, while he was playing lawman, I was playing gambler. We know that little burg quite well now."

Bart McMurray, who'd been silent until now, moved closer to the table and studied the map. "What would be the best way in, do you think?" His question gave tacit acceptance to the newcomers' stories. Gant edged closer while Sam and Jeb Morgan squinted over at Larabee, then Standish. The two scouts had already picked out trails, but Bart had whispered his suggestion to them as they entered the tent that he use their knowledge to check on the trustworthiness of the new men.

Ezra didn't even hesitate, leaning over, his elegant hand moved quickly to the main trail south to Four Corners. "This is the best road into the town," he paused, seeing without revealing his observations that the Morgans were both trying to repress grins. "Of course, if you are trying for surprise," he waited again, the master of the con, seeing the two scouts lean forward subconsciously drawn in by his words and pacing, "then, this back trail is probably better." The scouts rocked back on their heels, both sighing softly and shrugging at each other before nodding at Bart. Thought so, you slick miscreants. Ezra did not let his smile of triumph show. "Now, if you are bringing wagons?"

"No, never use wagons, we have a string of mules for packing out our gear and anything we take." Gant spoke absentmindedly, already tracing this lesser used route with one finger.

He looked up from under his thick brows and opened his mouth to ask another question just as Harry Walton appeared at the tent flap. "Sor?"

Sighing and waving the big ex-soldier in, he stood back and went over to where a small folding side table held a bottle and several glasses. He poured a finger of whiskey and watched as his man handed Ezra Sutler the medical supply kit. Sutler looked over at him and asked, "Captain Gant, Ralph? Would it be permissible to take Chris back to our tent. We've left our prisoner alone for some time and I can sit Chris down there to deal with this injury."

Gant stared down at his drink for a moment, then tossed it down his throat and thumped the glass on the table. "Sure. Go ahead. Bart and I will go over the trail with Jeb here. Later, though, I want to meet with you two about what's in that town. Bank, stores, likely problems."

Ezra smirked. "Of course, and we can easily answer such questions at your convenience." He lifted the kit of bandages and supplies, hefting it in one hand as he grasped Chris by his uninjured arm, turning him toward the tent flap. "Until then, sir, adieu."

Just as Ezra guided his silent friend through the opening of the tent, Gant called out, "Ezra? I'll just come on down to your tent with Bart when I'm ready."

The conman smiled over his shoulder, "That will be fine, Ralph." He gave a half salute with the hand holding the medical kit and moved on out of the tent with Chris in tow.

Harry Walton followed them out and through the camp, a silent protective shadow, which both lawmen appreciated. Chris who was feeling faint by now from the leakage of blood, reeled at one point, his boot coming down wrong on an exposed tree root. Ezra who had never let go of Chris' good arm, held on tightly but was grateful when Harry's big hands came out to hold the taller man's shoulders and steady him. "Thanks, Harry," Ezra said quietly, not looking up.

"My pleasure, Sor." Harry had been trying to decide if Ezra was really paired with this wicked gunman or if it was all play-actin'. He'd watched that kiss with his jaw nearly on the ground. But the way the Chris feller had looked at Ezra Sutler had near convinced him. Later, the way Ezra had looked when he took the medical stuff from Harry and turned to watch that Chris, well, Harry wasn't an insensitive clod, even if he might look like one. There was love in that look. Now, seeing the worry in those glittering green eyes, Harry vowed that he'd keep Chris James or Larabee, whatever he called himself, safe. Safe for his friend Ezra. With a light pat to each shoulder, he released the gunman once it was clear that Chris was back in balance on his feet.

"Still bleeding where he's been hit. Looks like Ezra has some stuff to fix him up with, though." Nathan watched tensely when Chris wobbled, then was steadied by the hulking man following their friends through the camp and away from the large tent.

Buck watched narrowly. No sign of Vin, and now that they'd finally spotted Chris and Ezra, it was to see that Chris was wounded, though it looked to be just a graze. Then the two had gone into the big tent and only now were leaving. "Wonder who the big guy is?"

JD spoke up. "Seems more like a friend than not, way he's acting."

Josiah agreed. "Ezra and he appear to have some sort of a bond, too, from what we can see of their faces and the way they speak to each other."

Nathan edged closer to the screen of brush that hid them. "Like to get a look at Chris' arm."

Buck put a restraining hand on one arm. "Not yet, Nate. Ain't like he's bleeding ta death or nothing. Ez'll look after him. We cain't risk tipping our hand yet."

None of the four wanted to leave their friends deep in the gang's camp but there were too many men there for them to try to liberate them. Besides, no one had seen any sign of Vin yet. They had made it to a hidden lookout near the camp in time to see Baxton being dragged away. They'd heard the two gunshots but not seen what happened.

No one said a word as they'd watched Chris pull Ezra into an embrace and then kiss him deeply in front of several men.

Still wordless they'd seen the two disappear into the large tent, only to emerge after about ten to fifteen minutes, just after the big hulk returned from some errand and entered the tent.

Chris staggered slightly as he ducked to enter their smaller four-man tent. Ezra quickly tossed the medical kit inside and grabbed for Larabee with both hands, helping the bigger man to move over to where Vin lay on a bedroll, watching them. He didn't speak, his blue eyes quietly assessing Chris' injury before turning to watch a huge man shoulder his way into the tent behind his friends. Gunshot most likely, didn't look too bad. This big guy isn't making any problems and both Chris and Ez seem fine with him. Vin continued to play dumb. He made sure his 'roped' wrists were visible.

Tossing a look over at Harry, Ezra eased Chris down on to the bedroll next to Tanner's. "Harry, your word."

Walton straightened as much as the small tent allowed, his neck bent and chin against his chest. "Since I've known you, Sor. Ain't ever changed, never will. Sor, you have it."

Ezra smiled, his green eyes dancing. "Harry, I'd like you to meet a friend of ours, Vin Tanner. He, Chris and I are here on a mission to waylay or destroy your little band of men."

Harry's beefy face lit with a relieved smile. "Pleased ta meet you, Mr. Tanner." He made no comment about the ropes.

Vin wasn't sure what was going on but since Chris didn't shoot this Harry - or Ezra - he figured it was alright, so he nodded at the big guy and drew his hands out of the knotted bit of rope. "Harry. Call me Vin." Vin's gruff, scratchy voice was low.

Just then Chris groaned and his head dipped. "Chris!" Ezra's hiss brought the other two men to his side. He carefully tipped the reclining man's head toward him and saw that Chris had passed out.

"Lost a fair 'mount of blood, Sor," Harry murmured, competently pulling the duster and shirtsleeve off the injured arm. Ezra was rooting through the kit, pulling out rolls of bandage and some carbolic acid.

"Let's get it cleaned while he's out." Ezra and Vin pulled the arm clear and worked together on Larabee's gun arm. "Doesn't look like it even needs stitches." Ezra's tone was of relief and Vin, who was in silent agreement, smiled.

"Reckon old Chris'll be around for a spell more, Ez. You kin relax."

Standish sat back on his heels as Harry and Vin wrapped the cleaned graze with some of the gauze. "Thanks to you and Harry, Vin."

Vin raised an eyebrow while Harry lowered one. Both men shot Ezra looks of sad understanding. It was Vin, the usually silent Vin, who spoke first. "Ez, you done more'n your share, too, Pard. And from what you and Harry said, Chris is likely alive now because of you. Already know I am. Thanks to YOU, Ezra Standish."

Ezra's pale face was now flagged by two bright red spots of embarrassment. Good Lord, couldn't they see that his conniving ways were not something you praised, simply used and were done with it. He raised his head, however, and nodded to each man with a small smile. "I stand corrected, Mr. Tanner. Thank you." He could see his newer and older friend were both unhappy with his response but it was all he could give them.

A scratching at the closed tent flap had Vin scrambling to get his rope 'restraints' back on as Harry rose to face the intruder and Ezra leaned protectively over Chris where he lay unconscious on one of the bedrolls. "Who goes there?" Harry spoke calmly.

A dirty blonde head of stringy hair appeared at the flap. Carlton peered in anxiously. "Cap'n Gant's comin'." The young man's head disappeared again rapidly.

Vin lay down and curled back into a posture of submission, closing his eyes and tipping his head down.

Ezra knelt up to face the entrance just as Ralph Gant swept aside the flap and moved in to the tent, Bart McMurray close on his heels. Neither man showed surprise that they hadn't caught the others off guard. Walton nodded to Gant and slipped outside to wait. He smiled at Carlton Winger who was now sitting cross-legged in front of one of the other three tents that faced this communal cook fire. You done good, kid, he thought affectionately. He'd have to keep an eye on young Winger. Hadn't really paid much attention to the sapling before but now that the youngster had come down on Sutler's side and confessed his own dissatisfaction with the way the gang of men looted and pillaged, why he'd have to watch out for young Carly.

"You get the feeling that not ever'one in that camp is in agreement?" Buck mused from where the remaining members of the Seven sat in silent watch over the tent where at least two of their number were hidden.

Josiah smiled. "That young man sure popped in and outta Chris' and Ezra's tent mighty like he was warning them of something."

"I think that tall man that just went in might be someone real important, maybe their leader." JD had watched the ripples of reaction from the men in the camp as the tall man strode through. Fear, awe, respect, even anger, showed up on the other men's faces.

Nathan had to agree, he too had seen the reactions. It made him nervous to think of his friends in that small space with the vicious pack leader. He always felt a bit frustrated at such times as this, when his team mates seemed to know instinctively what to do next while he was still fumbling with the thought that he needed to act. Never feel this way once I am doing what I do best, guess this is simply not one of those things I do best. He was flooded with gratitude suddenly as he looked around at the other men. They ain't never complained. Not once. Couldn't ask for better friends. With regret he turned back to staring at the blank faced tent. What was going on inside?

Buck shifted position and put a comforting hand down on JD's spine where he lay next to the mustachioed ladies man. "How you holding up there, JD?"

The youngster flashed a look of irritation at the man who had become like an older brother to him. Sometimes Buck took his 'brother' role a bit too seriously. JD sighed, still was nice to have family. He tried not to think much on what they'd witnessed earlier, but his mind kept returning to the scene, like a dog with a meaty bone. Chris had hauled off and kissed Ez real good. Man, that was hot, that kiss. He was still not sure that he wanted to know whether it had been for real or not, but he had to act like it was real. He sighed and pushed himself back to the present. "I'm fine, Buck."

"--ripe for the plucking, gentlemen." Ezra's voice, sounding sonorous. He's working the con, Chris decided as he lay there with his eyes still closed, trying to get a feel for what had happened when he'd fainted. Damn, lost too much blood. Feel okay now, though. Ezra paused, and Chris was beginning to recognize the cadence, pitch and intensity of the little gambler and conman. He's pitching now, Chris tried to suppress a smile.

"What kind of resistance should we expect?" Gant.

"Nothing too forceful," Ezra answered, his hand moving to play through Chris' loose blonde hair. "A retired preacher, an ex-slave, a kid, and a lothario."

"Lothario?" Bart's tentative pronunciation wrapped around the word.

"Ladies man." Ezra looked down at Chris as he felt a slight movement of the head on his lap. "Welcome back, Chris," he murmured tenderly as he now gently forked his fingers through the blonde's hair again. He lowered his head to touch lips with the bigger man who lay supine beside him. Look at me, I am *kissing* Chris. The sparkle in his eyes became even brighter as Chris returned the soft kiss, then pushed at the lips with his probing tongue.

Gant, who was sitting facing the two men, shook his head and wondered how much more they'd get out of the lovers just now. As he watched, Chris put a hand around the back of Ezra's neck and pulled the smaller man down on top of himself, then began to calm the younger man with tiny kisses and petting motions with his hands.

Vin struggled not to smile as he watched Ezra initiate the kiss but Chris take it over. He's got you now, Ez. Likely for life. Vin smiled again.

Bart looked away in distaste. Not like he hadn't seen the likes before but he still didn't think much of it. Man kissing man, having sex. Just weren't natural. Once they had Four Corners, they should get rid of these two before they set a bad example for the men.

Ezra nearly moaned as Chris deepened the kiss and wrapped arms tightly around his captive. We really need somewhere a bit more private, he thought regretfully, pushing Chris back down on the bedroll and looking up to meet Gant's eye.

Ralph shook his head. Damn, don't these two think of anything 'sides sex?

"Ez?" Chris reached up to try to recapture the little gambler, make him my own, he thought hungrily.

Ezra put a firm hand down on Chris' chest. "Easy, Chris, we'll let you use up some energy later tonight."

Hot hazel eyes looked up in sultry defiance, "Promise?"

Ezra lost track of everyone again as he was caught in those hungry eyes. "Promise," he whispered for Chris' ears alone.

"Honest, I can do it!" JD was taking off his gun belt as he spoke, thrusting it into Nathan's hands. "I want to help them. They're our friends!"

Buck finally nodded concurrence. "Be careful, kid." He, together with Josiah and Nathan, watched JD sink to his belly and literally slither off.

JD had to dig his fingers into the rocky soil of the exposed bluff edge as he crept closer and closer to the tent. He could hear voices now, just barely. With great caution, he lifted the edge of one tent wall and peered beneath. He had to squint to make anything of the shades of gray in the dim interior. As his eyes adjusted, he moved into a more comfortable position. There were several men in the tent. Vin! There was Vin! But he was tied up and cringing against the far wall of the tent. He saw the men that they'd seen earlier near the big tent. Then one of them turned and JD recognized him as of the same cloth as their saloon patrons, cowboys, and drifters. He'd have to work hard to get near Vin's space.

Then the huddle of men beyond Vin shifted and JD's eyes went automatically toward the new movement. It was Chris on his back, and Ezra lying on top of him. They were squished real close and damn if Ezra and Chris weren't kissin' again.

Vin looked over behind his legs at the edge of the tent wall. JD looked back at him. Holy HELL! Vin fought to keep still, not show his shock, but then he sensed someone watching. Turning he saw that it was Ezra, still in a kissing clench, held tight by Chris, nonetheless it was Ezra who'd spotted JD's presence. He closed his eyes again. So, if JD was here, that meant at least Buck as well, and knowing Buck, it meant all four of their companions were lurking somewhere close by.

Just as fast as JD had shown up, just as quickly, he vanished again, like a rabbit down the hole. Vin wondered how long it would be before these men would realize that Chris and Ezra were acting. Or, were they?

JD gasped for breath, his skin an interesting shade of green. He was caught! Two wiry hands had grabbed hold of his ankles and were pulling hard.

"Shush, now." The dulcet tones of the south adjusted JD's thinking. More'n one man can sound like that! JD squirmed but could not dislodge his assailant's grip. Then a second set of hands joined the first, but there was no fighting this set. The huge hams clamped down on the boy's thin shoulders.

JD's eyes opened wide as he found himself on the ground face to face with the huge man that they'd spotted earlier, following Ezra and Chris, helping Chris when he nearly lost his balance. The man smiled and shrugged. "Easy there, young Sor. Now what would you be doing, lad, spying like that? Who be ye, anyway?"

JD licked his lips and whispered, "Friend of Chris and Ez." He didn't add anything else, not sure of what even that admission might not do to his two missing friends.

Harry saw the honesty and fear in the boy's eyes. He let his shoulders settle and released the boy slowly. "Sorry, Sor. We're trying to keep the cap'n safe.

"The captain?" His northern accent was questioning. JD really was bewildered and nervous. These two didn't seem to want to hurt him though.

"Cap'n Sutler." When that didn't elicit any response, Harry tried again. "Cap'n Ezra Sutler and his friend, Chris James."

"Ezra and Chris?" JD nearly fainted himself in relief. "You're their friends?"

"Yes, Sor." Harry studied the scruffy looking youth. Honesty shone from those dark eyes. "And you be?"

"JD." The boy blushed. "Ah, JD Dunne, sheriff of Four Corners."

"Ah." This explained much. Harry looked wisely over at Carly. "Winger, you foller this sheriff back to his posse. Let'em know the lay of the land. And, Carly?" Harry waited until the youngster's eyes were on his. "Tell 'em everything."

The blonde nodded convulsively, then grinned at JD and jerked his head to get the other boy to follow him. The two slithered off through the under brush and were gone in moments. Harry waited only long enough to be sure that no one took notice, then returned to his vigil outside of the cap'n's tent.

Vin was growing weary of holding his pose of prisoner but Gant and McMurray had a lot of questions for Chris and Ezra. The majority of the answers came from Standish but as Larabee recovered his equilibrium, he sat up and gave a share of the answers. Both men were very truthful with everything except the status of the law there in Four Corners. Vin wondered if there was ANY law in the town just now. Well, maybe the Judge was still around. He had to suppress a grin at that thought.

Then Gant and his second in command were rising to their feet from where they sat on the ground with their new men. Gant's height, much like, Walton's, forced the man to crouch slightly as he said goodnight to his recruits. "Tomorrow we'll ride as far as the approach in to the town, see what we can from there. Maybe send in some of the boys to set up at the saloon, hotel, and wherever else they can." Ralph Gant was getting hungry for another town and this one sounded mighty fine.

Ezra rose to his feet as well, nodding their 'guests' out of the enclosure, one hand on Chris' shoulder to keep him seated on his bedroll. The blonde looked more surprised than rebellious, Vin thought with renewed amusement.

McMurray spared a glance at the prisoner. "You still want to keep draggin' his carcass around?"

Ezra's green eyes flew in alarm to where Tanner lay. He shielded well, though and only Chris caught the look. Then Standish turned back to face Bart McMurray. "We will get quite a tidy sum for that carcass, alive. So far it has not been a hardship. If it becomes one, no doubt my dear Chris will deal with it."

'My dear Chris?' Larabee struggled to hold back the smirk 'that' wanted to bring to his face. Ezra's walls were dissolving, he was sure of it. Ah, Green Eyes, I love you so damn much. Don't know how it happened, maybe it was all those times you faced me off, argued me into the ground and then waltzed off with that all-knowing smile of yours. Damn, I got it as bad as I did for Sarah and she was just like you - no respect at all, just a snippy miss. Well, you ain't no 'miss' but you're a real hellcat, Ez, a real fine hellcat. Chris lay back and folded his hands across his belly, staring at the ceiling of the tent as he listened to the men's movements as they left, then the sound of Ezra dropping the tent fold. There was another scratching and then Harry Walton's voice.

"I'll just be outside here, Sor." Ezra's said something in a low voice and Walton answered. "Yes, Sor, saw him. Young Carly has gone off with the Sheriff and no doubt will report back in a while." A moment of silence, then, "I'll make sure to warn you before I come in, Sor."

A further scuffle, then Ezra's face was replacing the patched roof of the tent in Larabee's view. Green eyes glittered and cheeks dimpled, gold tooth shining. "Hello there."

"Ezra, get your butt down here." Chris wriggled into an even more comfortable position. "Now."

Ezra glowed. No two ways about it, his happiness was clear as he knelt down beside the dark clad gunman. Chris could see the tenderness in those bright green eyes as his newly declared love lowered himself to the ground beside Larabee. Chris rolled onto one elbow and smiled, raising a hand to gently stroke the little gambler's face. "Ah, Ezra, we're gonna get some time after this and I'm gonna show you just how much I love you."

Ezra relaxed onto his side, facing Chris, enjoying the tender touch of the other man. "Um, can hardly wait, Chris."

Tanner lifted his head to watch the two. They might not be lovers yet but it was gonna happen, soon. "Boys, hate to say this, but maybe you best wait until we get ourselves outta this mess."

Larabee sighed, then cupped Ezra's chin in one hand and held him in place as he leaned in to taste those lips again, even if only for a short moment. Ezra moved closer in response and his lips sought out Larabee's. Then Chris' other arm came around to tug the smaller man closer again, until they were chest to chest. "Ezra." He kissed his love deeply, feasting on those tender lips, letting his tongue explore freely within, then pulled back once again. "Green Eyes, sweet, sweet Green Eyes."

Ezra's eyes misted and he smiled softly as they broke apart. "My Angel."

Chris crushed the little gambler to him, exultant. He finally did it! Called me Angel when he was in his right mind!

Vin cleared his throat and tried again. "Ah, boys?"

Ezra dragged himself the rest of the way free from Chris' arms and sat up facing Vin. "Sorry, Mr. Tanner, we shall try to be more circumspect."

Vin looked confused for a moment, then nodded. "Think that might be wise considerin' where we are and what we gotta do yet. Does Chris know about JD?"

Ezra shook his head after quirking a look at the mystified Larabee. "JD appeared from under the tent wall a few minutes ago, while Gant and McMurray were still here." He straightened his clothing and shrugged. "Harry tells me that he sent Carly back with JD to see the rest of our associates, fill them in on our situation."

Chris Larabee shook his head. He hadn't expected this, and especially not in the middle of his courtin' of Ezra. His brain felt like mush, nice mush, but mush. He ran a hand through his unruly blonde bangs and winced at the shooting pains in his arm as he did it.

Ezra's face took on a firm look. "Chris, you must give that arm a chance to begin healing. Please try not to use it." He reached out and captured the bandaged arm, lowering it to the bedroll.

Chris let his friend fuss over him, sending Vin a wry look. There was a rare mix of amusement, tolerance, and affection in that look and Vin took notice. Chris has it really bad, he thought with a smile. Then looking at the way Ezra knelt next to his friend, Vin decided that Ezra did, too.

With a grunt as Ezra tucked the blanket back over his injured arm, Chris said, "Sounds like the rest of our men are here. Odds'll be, what? 'bout five to one, huh, Ez?"

Standish sat back on his heels and nodded,"If nothing changes, yes."

"Well, Vin, that's about normal for us, isn't it?" Both men heard the humor in Larabee's voice. It had been awhile since that teasing tone. They grinned back at him.

Ezra added, "Some of the men may not chose to continue their fight with this ragged band."

Larabee cast another telling look over to Tanner. "Yep, heard that. You met Harry, right Vin?" When the tracker nodded, Chris continued, "He tells some interesting tales about our friend Captain Ezra Sutler."

Ezra looked down, flushing. This was something he had never wanted, for his past to meet his present.

Chris sensed Ezra's discomfort but Vin needed to know. "Ez had a strong following in the war. He went up through the ranks, had quite a loyal group of men who rode with him. Was in the artillery."

Vin assessed Standish's downcast features, could see the embarrassment there and then chagrin. But, he could also hear the pride in Larabee's voice. "Real proud to ride with you, Ez." Tanner nodded, then flashed his teasing half-smile, "But, were proud to ride with you afore this anyhow."

Green eyes flicked up and caught his skyblue ones. A momentary silence, then Ezra grinned again. "My unfortunate past may come to our rescue in our current situation, I admit." He leaned over Larabee to pluck one of his saddlebags and bring it to his lap. "On the other hand," he smiled down at his busy hands, hands which withdrew several items from one of his oilskin wrapped parcels, "these may also be useful." He held up two sticks of dynamite, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Buck's face creased into a frown as he saw JD reappear with a shadow. "Who the hell is this?"

Dunne was up on his knees by now and smiling broadly. "This is Carly, a friend of Chris' and Ezra's."

Josiah reached out one long arm. "Pleasure to make your aquaintance, young Carly."

The awkward blonde youth ducked his head but shook Josiah's hand. "Yes, sir."

Nathan peered curiously at the boy. "You know how Chris is?"

Carlton eyed the black man anxiously. "You one of the cap'n's friends, too?"

Before Nathan could answer that, JD interrupted. "Yes, he is." He then turned to the others. "Seems Ezra is known to lots of those men as Captain Sutler from the war."

"A captain?" Buck smiled, not really surprised. Their Ezra was always bringing out new talents when needed, so why not some past?

Carly nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. And Harry served with 'im. Says he was the best commander he'd ever had. Was in the artillery. Now, Harry says that he thinks the cap'n might lead us out from under Captain Gant." Winger gulped a breath, then went on in his eager patois. "There's a bunch of us, don't like riding with Gant no more. Done too many mean things and just for spite, not for the South."

The listening men quietly exchanged glances. Buck smoothed down his mustache and nodded. "If you can get your men organized, we can break this Captain Gant's gang wide open."

Carly squinted back toward the camp, hidden from view. "Might be, iffn the cap'n will lead."

Chris' eyes opened wide at the sight of the sticks of dynamite held so casually in Ezra's hands. "Ezra! Put those things away! I don't want you risking yourself. We'll get out of here together and then deal with Gant and his gang."

Vin watched silently as Ezra froze at the tone of Larabee's sharp words. He could tell that the little conman was not happy but that he was trying to work with them. Before Vin could intervene, however, Standish had moved back away from them and was seated crosslegged on the ground facing them, the dynamite still in his hands. He tilted his head to the side as he looked at Chris. Vin could almost feel the emotional tension rise within the small tent.

"Chris, Ah will do as Ah see fit. Ah can make no promises because we do not yet know what we face tomorrah." The southerner's accent was becoming more prominent again, a sure sign he was not as calm as he appeared.

Larabee's shoulders slumped and he pulled himself up on to his feet, to squat opposite his man. "Ez, you know I'm only worried about you."

The fine tension in Ezra's face seemed to melt a bit at that, although he remained unmoving. "Ah know." He looked over at Vin. "There is Mr. Tanner to consider as well."

Chris nodded. He duck-walked over beside Ezra and settled on his heels next to the smaller man. "Ezra, Buck and the rest are nearby, Carly's gone to meet with them. Harry is organizing the discontents. They'll follow you. Think, Green Eyes," Chris was turned by now to half-face his friend, roping him in with one arm as he met those telling jade eyes and smiled into them softly. "Think about what you mean to these men - and to me and Vin. You are the key now. You can't afford to go off on your own without us. We can't afford to lose you." He hesitated, then leaned in and touched his lips even more softly to the pouty ones in that handsome face, "I can't afford to lose you."

Ezra's eyes drifted shut with the light kiss, then opened slowly again. Chris was right and he knew it. He looked over at Vin and saw the same truth there in those bright blue eyes. Dropping his gaze to the explosives in his hands he gave a soul-deep sigh and nodded.

"Very well." Ezra wrapped the unfused sticks back into the oilskin packet and tossed the anonymous package back towards his saddle bags before leaning into Larabee's arm and resting his head for just a moment against the taller man's chest. "We'll do it together."

"Good." Chris kissed the broad forehead with affection and smiled over at Vin who was lying on the bedroll across from them, watching with interest.

Tanner spoke up again now that things seemed to be settled with his two friends. "Gant said they'd ride tomorrow. Might be a good idea to get Harry back in here and see what he can do to get ready." His two friends nodded agreement and with a final hug Chris released Ezra who headed for the closed flap of the tent.

"We'll stay hid here tonight, have a dry, cold camp," Buck decided, after listening to all that Carly Winger had to say. His fellow lawmen all nodded in agreement. "Carly, you git back to Gant's camp, let Ezra and Chris know that we're here and ready."

Carlton Winger seemed to swell with the importance of his continuing mission as go-between. He nodded sharply, scooping his lank blonde hair back in a gesture that mirrored JD's often similar one. The other men watched in silence as he merged back into the brush and disappeared.

Once he'd been gone for a few minutes, the four lawmen sat down in a circle. Buck began, "Think it'd be best to scout out the trails here about."

"Carefully," cautioned Josiah with a nod up the hill. "Seems like they have pretty good scouts."

Buck nodded grimly, "JD, you git back up there and keep watch, Carly might come back lookin' for you. Nate, you head off to the east, I'll go west, Josiah, you stay here and keep watch on our camp."

The men quickly parted and headed out into the twilight, it had already been a long day.

"Harry?" Ezra stood hunched in the tent entrance. "Can you come inside?"

The big man stood up and stretched from where he'd been sitting on a log by the central campfire for this set of tents. He made a small gesture toward a nondescript man all in brown who had been sitting across the fire from him. "This here is Toby Benjay, Cap. He's gonna help out. He'll keep guard."

Standish stood free of the tent and extended his hand to Toby. "Mr. Benjay, it is a pleasure."

The other man rose to his feet and grasped the offered hand firmly, nodding and speaking quietly. "There's more'n you might think, Captain Sutler, that are ready to end this. We're with you. Heard all about you from Harry here. In fact, I served in another battery during the Conflict, heard about you back then too. It's an honor, sir, to serve with you."

Ezra straightened and gave a brisk nod. "Sir. The honor is mine." He looked around the campsite, noting that several other men lounged there without talking. He met each pair of curious and assessing eyes as he swung around. "We shall prevail, gentlemen." He addressed the quiet gathering in a low voice but the conviction in his tone was clear. Several of the men sat up a bit and nods were seen, tightening of the eyes, firming of the mouths, hands drifting to weapons to rest there, ready. Ezra could see that these men were serious. They wanted their private war to end. There must be a way to get them out of here without undue repercussions, he thought, at the same time wondering if the judge would approve of his intentions. To hell with him, Ezra decided, these men are victims as much as any of those they struck against. They're willing to stop and leave and that's what the judge wants. We do it my way. He stopped in his thoughts as Harry lifted the tent flap for him and he turned with a casual two fingered salute to the waiting men. Well, not MY way, but our way. Ezra met hard hazel eyes as he re-entered the tent, that is, if I can convince Chris.

JD watched as Carly emerged from the steep slope and brush and back into the same campsite. Several men sat around that campfire, not doing anything but sipping coffee. One, all in brown, stood near the tent that JD knew contained his friends. Carly went directly to that man and stood speaking in a low voice. After a moment or two, the man lifted the tent flap and said something toward the interior, then waved Carly within.

JD settled down in his nest of vines and dry brush and got ready to wait. Not a good idea to risk slipping back into that tent when Carly can bring word.

Bart McMurray spent a bit longer with his friend Jeb Morgan, then re-joined Gant at his map table. "Morgan don't really trust Sutler and James that much."

Ralph Gant looked up. "Don't much matter. They're tucked in safe among us. We don't let them loose to get in that town without us and can't see how that's a problem."

Hesitantly, Bart nodded, his firey red hair sticking up from where he'd run worried fingers through it. "Yeah. Well, Jeb and Sam will stick close to them. Tell you what, if I can get one of them alone, I'd do a bit of checking on my own. That alright with you?"

Gant considered that for a moment. "They're tight. If you do get one alone, likely just have to threaten the other and you'll get cooperation without no fight." He thought about that for another moment. "I expect that Sutler is likely the weaker link there, that James feller is one tough egg."

"Ok, then," Bart moved toward the tent opening, setting his wide-brim hat on his head, the glory of red hair disappearing beneath it. "I'll let you know what I learn, if this works out." And he left the tent.

Once outside, he found both Jeb and his son Sam at his elbows. "Boys, we're gonna go man-huntin'," he smiled slyly at them each in turn and led them down the bivoucs toward his own tent and the tent of the new recruits. Already he was thinking how he'd part Sutler from James, and from Walton, who, he'd noticed, seemed to be sticking close to the shorter man.

Harry sat down on a spare blanket that Chris had thrown on the ground inside the tent. "Now, Sors, what can I do for you?"

Ezra, who'd followed Harry inside, sat down beside Larabee and spoke. "Gant wants to head for Four Corners in the morning. We'd like to be ready to disrupt his plans at an opportune time. That may not be until we are within the confines of that small community. We know it well and can organize resistance, even from afar if all goes well with young Carly's rendezvous. Then, Harry, if your Toby and the others can form a cadre within Gant's riders, to split free, perhaps break them into at least two groups, we can flank them and cut them down while they are in disarray."

Walton listened closely and nodded, seeing Chris and the other one named Vin, sitting forward tensely. "We can do that, Cap." He shrugged massive shoulders and flicked a look back over his shoulder as Toby lifted the tent flap to call inside.

"Carly coming in."

The men waited until the youngster slipped inside and settled next to Walton. He looked excited and alert, sitting tall. "I talked with a man named Buck and he had two other men with him, one a negro, besides JD." Gulping his breath back, he went on. "Said they'd be ready for whatever you wanted them to do, that they'd keep a cold camp tonight and follow in the morning, or come in at your signal."

Larabee leaned forward, consideringly. "Ez, that means we got two groups to work with - Harry's men and Buck's. Should be able to cut Gant off with all that."

Ezra turned back to Walton. "Just how many men are we talking about, Harry?"

Walton looked down at his hands, thinking. There was a silence as he seemed to be counting mentally. Finally he looked back up and said, "Sor, I figure we can count on about ten men out of the thirty-six that ride with Captain Gant."

Vin's eyes widened in surprise and as he looked toward Larabee he saw that his friend was also startled. That was nearly a third of the men, enough anyway to really make a difference, even if all they did was ride away.

Ezra nodded slowly. "That's a goodly number, Harry. I didn't see that many just now so I take it that some are still among Gant's core men?"

Walton smiled. "Figured it would be better not to be too separate."

"Correct, Harry. You are most wise. Tonight, please contact everyone of them, let them know that we expect them to ride tomorrow and at a given signal to fall back and follow you or me."

"Can do that, Sor. What might the signal be?"

Ezra cast his gaze over to his partners with a questioning look. Larabee smiled back at him and said, "Seven." Ezra puzzled for a moment, then smiled too.

"Yes, that's perfect. Harry, the word is 'seven' - when it's called out or shouted, that's the signal."

"Seven?" Harry nodded. "I'll tell 'em." He clearly wanted to ask about this but restrained himself, rising back to his feet. "Good night, Sors." With a gesture to Carly who'd been silent as he avidly listened to the others, he led the boy from the tent.

The three friends remaining relaxed now, settling back onto their blankets. "I suppose I should organize some dinner for us," Ezra muttered from within the returned arms of his love.

Chris squeezed him a bit tighter for a moment and stole one more kiss before agreeing. "Yep, you're the most likely to get something for us."

Vin nodded towards their saddlebags, "We got dry rations though, could make do, might be better."

"Yes, Mr. Tanner, we could, but I like to keep my friends happy. Hot food would no doubt be better, and perhaps some coffee?" Both men listening to Ezra were happily surprised by his casual reference to them as friends. He usually used the term associates and this new openness was both refreshing and reassuring.

"Don't go too far, Ez," Chris cautioned as the smaller man moved toward the tent flap. With a sudden premonition, he too rose and followed. "On second thought, I think I'll come and help."

Vin leaned back and smiled. "Guess I'll stay here." His quirky smile acknowledged that he could do nothing else anyway at the moment. His friends both grinned at him before ducking outside.

Ezra came out first to find that most of the men from earlier were gone now, though Toby Benjay was still sitting on a log. Toby looked up and past him, standing nervously. Ezra swung around to face Bart McMurray followed by the two Morgans.

"Gentlemen?"

"Sutler, Captain Gant wants to talk with you some more. Asked that you come back to his tent so he can use his map." Bart spoke glibly, the Morgans crowding at his back, failing to completely hide their smirks.

Ezra took note and decided that he'd better go but said, "Chris and I can come immediately."

"No," Bart interrupted, "only you, Sutler, Jeb here wants a word with James about the town, don't ya, Morgan?" He elbowed his friend who nodded vigorously.

Feeling uneasy but not sure what to do, Ezra nodded his agreement. Chris stood stiffly, uncomfortably behind him, then spoke up. "Seems to me that Morgan here can talk to me down there by Gant's tent as well as here. I'm coming." That said he began to walk closely behind his partner.

Bart frowned, but followed, the two Morgans bringing up the rear. They'd only traversed one more campsite and were between campfire circles when Jeb moved ahead quickly, his long rifle swung up high and smashed down on Chris Larabee's skull. The tall gunman fell limply to the ground without a sound.

"Chris!" Ezra spun as he sensed the sudden violent movements behind him, only to face the muzzle of Sam Morgan's six gun.

"Move." Morgan gestured to one of the tents just ahead as Jeb and Bart dragged Chris Larabee's body off the path and dumped it into the brush along the side of the bluff. When they released it, it rolled and crashed down into the scrub below. Ezra hesitated, his heart in his throat as he tried to head for Larabee despite the gun in his face.

Bart was back though, grabbing his arm and jerking him around, Jeb Morgan coming up on his other side and snatching at Standish's other arm, then rabbit punching him in the gut. Ezra gasped and folded over, held up by the two bigger men who now dragged him into the tent that Sam Morgan was standing beside. If anyone else in the camp saw the sudden activity, no one was offering help or comment. Ezra's boot toes left twin trails as he was dragged inside.

JD eased himself closer to Chris' body, careful to remain hidden from the camp above him. Larabee lay unconscious, his lax body tangled with a twisted scrub pine and some brush. "Chris?" JD touched the man's neck, feeling the pulse to reassure himself. He quickly dismissed the idea of dragging his friend away to safety, he'd make too much noise and only earn them both a bullet. He had to get to his other friends and get help. Buck. Buck would know what to do. JD slid and skittered down the hillside, then over toward their own camp.

"Now, Mister Reb-who-was-a-captain, we need some answers." Bart savored the way the smaller man hung between the two Morgans. Father and son grinned back at him, each holding a wrist and twisting it roughly, forcing the trembling man to stagger and shuffle his feet, trying to keep a balance. McMurray drew back one muscular arm and punched the little man in the face, hearing the crunch of bone and cartilage as nose gave way to fist. Sutler's head jerked back and then he was snorting blood, shaking his head.

"No, not to you, you swine." The sharp words were brave from someone so helpless but none of the other three were impressed.

"We'll see about that," Bart began to batter at his captive, sinking fist after fist into the sagging form, paying special attention to ribs, chest, and stomach. The two scouts would jerk up every few minutes, forcing the fading man upright with the torque on his arms. Sam, the young and stronger of the two was the one to apply too much pressure in his enthusiasm, not having the experience of his father. An audible crack and Sutler cried out, his first sound beyond heavy breathing and an occasional grunt. Sam dropped his grip in his surprise, seeing the new awkward angle of the left wrist as the man swung like a hinge on the remaining arm lock, held there by Jeb Morgan.

McMurray spat in disgust as the man collapsed at his feet. Jeb let the other arm go and Sutler curled up on the ground, clutching his broken wrist protectively to his center. "You think this was bad, Sutler? We're gonna do your friend next. He's gonna be wolf-bait by the time we're done with him." Bart's smile grew as panicked green eyes squinted up at him.

"No! Leave him be. Ah'll tell you anything, jest let him be." Ezra's choked, nasal words were rapid and weak.

"Hey, Jeb, I think we done found us a canary, ready to sing real sweet for us." Bart slapped the older man on the shoulder and stood by him for a moment before squatting down in front of the ragged, beaten man. He saw that Sam had retreated to a place by the tent's only opening. Boy wasn't as tough as his old man yet. Turning his attention back to the former Reb captain, he began. "Sutler? What are you and James really doin' here?"

"Bank - " Ezra lowered his eyes to the ground.

"Bank?" Bart blinked and studied the defeated man consideringly. "You mean you were gonna rob one?"

Ezra nodded jerkily. "Yesss." His word coming out on a hiss of pain.

"Where?"

"Four Corners." Ezra closed his swelling eyes, the broken, smashed nose creating a raccoon affect on his face. He let his forehead drop to the ground. How is Chris? Is he alright? He damned these men and swallowed on his fear for Larabee.

"Where Gant wants us to ride?"

Ezra didn't bother to speak, simply nodding once. Bart wasn't satisfied however and rose up to kick the man in the leg, his pointed boot toe causing a deep bruise in one thigh. Ezra moaned softly and then answered, "Yes, there."

"You think he's telling the truth this time?" Jeb Morgan asked low voiced.

"One way to find out." Bart smiled nastily. "Go drag his partner back up the hill and in here." He drew his six gun and spun the revolving chambers, chuckling to himself. "Heard of a game once, called Russian roulette."

Standish's head came up sharply at the last statement. He could hear his breath sawing and gritted his teeth. Where were Harry and the others? How was he supposed to get Chris safely out of here when he couldn't even save himself? He coughed and spat out some bloody saliva, his cheek dropping down again to rest in the dirt of the tent floor. "He doesn't know anything, it was my idea. Please." The last was barely murmured as Sam and Jeb returned, dragging the still form of Chris Larabee between them.

Bart indicated that they drop their burden close by the crumpled Sutler. He dug his hand into the blonde's hair and yanked back, smiling widely when the hazel eyes opened blearily, nearly crossing. "Sutler?" He waited for the green-eyed little man to roll over slightly and look at his partner held tightly in Bart's hands. He dragged the muzzle of his pistol up against Chris James' temple and cocked the pistol. "Ready to play?"

"No!" Ezra found strength from somewhere to lurch up and forward, knocking the redhead to the ground and the pistol away from Larabee's head. "NO!" Ezra wasn't finished though, his flash of adrenaline still coursed through him as he wrestled the bigger man down and on to his back, grabbing the gun hand and forcing it towards the other's head.

Jeb and Sam who had stepped back to let Bart play out his game, ran back in now and tore at Sutler's right hand where it seemed welded to Bart's, both over the single pistol, two fingers on the trigger.

Sutler fought silently now, kicking, biting, and twisting, his left hand useless, he threw out his elbow sharply using it as a weapon as well. Within seconds the men were a heap over the limp body of the blonde gunman who stared vacantly up at the violence. There was a crack of sound as the gun went off and everyone stopped.

Stillness and then other men were crowding into the tent, guns drawn.

Harry, who had returned to find that Ezra and Chris had been led away by Bart McMurray and the two scouts, had hurried to the big tent only to find it empty except for Gant. He'd retraced his steps anxiously but without finding any sign of the others. Then, just in front of him, the Morgans had come out of a tent and moved over to the edge of the path. As he stopped to watch them, narrow-eyed with suspicion, Sam had clambered off the trail and was pushing and pulling a man's body back up toward his father, Jeb. Harry recognized Chris immediately. He watched them drag the man back into the tent and followed cautiously.

Harry was still outside the tent when the gunshot went off. He burst in, knowing other men were quickly following him to fill the tent. It was a moment's work to tear apart the human pile that confronted them, both Morgans rolling clear quickly and slinking back and out of the tent. That left Ezra and Bart in an unlikely embrace, their meshed hands still caught in the trigger guard of the pistol just fired. Neither was moving as Harry Walton carefully turned Ezra off of the bigger man and onto his back beside him. There was a great deal of blood.

"Aw, Sor." The giant cried out softly in dismay, his heart breaking.

"He was right here!" JD's hiss of frustration had Nathan clapping a consoling hand on one stiff shoulder.

"Easy, JD, we'll find'em." Jackson could see the broken and crushed branches as well as the rest of them. It wasn't hard to imagine a man's body crashing down into the brush and small tree, doing this damage. No telling what damage was done to that man, though. But, if he wasn't here, they could hope he weren't hurt too bad.

Josiah was already worming his bulk closer up to the path as they heard the sound of shot close by. Buck was instantly at his side, both tall men straining to understand what they saw. The one Carly called Harry was rushing into a tent nearby, other men following him. After a few minutes, he came out, carrying a small man in his arms, the man dangling there dead or unconscious. Two more men emerged, with Larabee suspended by legs and shoulders between them. They followed Harry down the trail. With a sadness that gripped his soul, Josiah realized the small form had been Ezra Standish's. He bent his head in a silent prayer before turning to see more men stumble out of the tent, two dragging what was clearly a dead man, red hair bright even now.

If that man was dead, likely Ezra wasn't Josiah decided, his thoughts lightening with hope. Buck, beside him, was already shifting away, to parallel the group bearing two of their friends. JD and Nate followed, Josiah bringing up the rear.

Harry hurried his steps. He'd get the captain and his friend back to their tent, away from all the eyes of the camp, then work on fixin' them up. He wasn't sure what had happened but he'd protect them with his life if necessary. He hung his head over his friend's body as he walked, shamed that he'd let this happen at all.

Toby was waiting and raised the tent flap, Harry not even acknowledging him as he crouched into the tent and lowered his burden to a bedroll next to the one named Vin.

Tanner looked on in alarm. He'd heard the muted gunshot, then nothing. Now here was an unconscious Ezra looking bloody and, then, as he watched, Chris as well, being hauled inside and deposited on the ground. Larabee looked like he'd been knocked out but otherwise seemed unharmed, at least, from a distance. Vin breathed hard as he controlled his urge to go and help, maintaining his pose as a bound prisoner.

Harry glanced once over at Chris. He was already semi-conscious and floundering weakly on the ground, saying something so softly that it couldn't be understood. Harry turned back to Ezra and gently straightened his limbs, feeling the broken bones in the left wrist and cursing. With caring hands, he patted the smaller man's body, checking for other injuries. Finding bruised ribs and leg, battered face and broken nose. With one large hand, he squashed the smushed bone and cartilage back into a semblance of the original form, eliciting a sharp cry from Ezra. "Easy there, Sor, had to be done," he consoled.

Then the man's eyes cracked open, glints of green filled with fear and anger, as he looked up at the giant, torn lips shaping a word. "Chris?"

"'s'Alright. He's gonna be fine, just knocked out." Harry wished he could say the same for Ezra. The smaller man looked like death itself, pale and bloody, torn and broken. To his utter amazement, though, his captain struggled up on his knees and half-crawled over to Chris.

Larabee, who was slowly regaining his wits, tipped his head and saw the apparition moving slowly and painfully toward him. "Ezra?" Oh, my god. Chris was rolling over now and holding out his arms. "Ezra!"

The smaller man made it to his friend and dropped into the waiting arms, falling safely into oblivion as two strong arms wrapped around him.

Vin, seeing that now the only one still inside was Harry, spoke up. "We need some help." When he had the other's attention, he continued, "We got us a healer with us, Nate can help them. Get your boy Carly to go fetch him."

Harry considered this as he studied the two men lying tightly together. Ezra's wrist needed setting, likely his nose needed some work too. Probably needed his ribs wrapped. With a final glance at the others, he moved back toward the tent flap just as it opened, thrust aside by a firm hand.

Ralph Gant. Captain Gant stood in the opening.

Buck signaled to the others to stay down as he edged closer to the concealing tent that contained his friends. Dragging himself forward on elbows, one hand holding tightly to a fisted six gun, he did not much resemble the jovial ladies man that he normally was. Right now, grim faced and determined, he was a very dangerous man.

Harry rose to his feet, head bent to accommodate the low ceiling of the tent. "Cap'n Gant, sor."

"Walton, what's going on? Jeb just told me that Bart is dead." Gant strode into the tent and stood staring down at the two battered men lying at his feet, then over at the prisoner, cowering against one canvas wall. It looked like letting Bart have his way had been a bad mistake.

Walton folded his thick arms over his chest. "Seems like McMurray and the Morgans decided to 'question' Cap'n Sutler here, sor."

Gant's dark eyes rose again and met the washed out blue ones of the giant. His face remained blank but his mind was working furiously. Jeb had met him part way back up the encampment, told him what had happened as they paced back down here. He was angry to have lost McMurray who'd been a good second in command, but the man had done this to himself. It was clear that the new men were tough and if they'd been going to rob the bank in Four Corners as Jeb now claimed, that wasn't any cause for worry, after all, he intended to do that himself, among other things.

"Looks like things got a bit outta hand." Gant nudged the collapsed men with one toe. They were hunched together and Larabee's head lifted to stare squint-eyed at the gang leader. You snake, I know you had something to do with this. Chris' lip curled in a silent snarl. He pulled an unconscious Ezra closer against his chest, arms snaking even more firmly, protectively around the smaller man.

Gant shrugged when the prostrate men didn't speak, then looked back at Walton. "See what you can do for them. We ride in the morning and I want them with us." He paused to look searchingly down at Sutler and James. "If Sutler can't ride, we leave him, likely James will be able to lead us."

"But Sor, if we leave the cap'n?"

"Dead men don't talk, Walton." Gant rubbed a hand down his face and moved back toward the tent flap, turning back at the last moment to face Walton again. "See to it."

Harry's brows came down to meet over eyes that flashed angrily but he only nodded in response. As soon as Gant disappeared, he strode over to the opening and peered out. Spotting Toby, he called low voiced, "Get Carlton. And," he looked back into the tent for a moment, "send in some hot water and the medical supplies." Ducking back into the tent, sure that his words would be followed, he crouched down beside the injured men.

By now, Chris had levered himself groggily to a sitting position, hauling Ezra's body up to keep it against his own, holding him half across his lap, head held carefully to the side, resting on his chest. As he cradled the little gambler, he watched Walton carefully, suspiciously.

"I've sent for Carly to go find your men." Harry reached out and lightly stroked the damp, curly chestnut hair of his former captain. He met the hazel eyes that stared back accusingly. "I'm sorry, Sor."

Chris held his breath for a moment as he rode out his gut instinct to expode in a temper. He knew that Vin, close by at his back, also worried about Ezra, so still in his arms. No point in reaming Walton's ass, the man was trying to help and it wasn't his fault that Gant's men had fooled them, gotten the drop on them. He nodded slowly, silently.

Vin started as the tent wall beside him was lifted suddenly, and Buck Wilmington's head and gun appeared. The worried dark blue eyes took in the scene quickly. The gun unerringly swinging to aim directly at Harry Walton. Vin simply leaned over and slipped his hands from his knotted ropes, then pressed down on Buck's gun hand. "Easy there, Bucklin, Harry's on our side."

Wilmington let Vin distract his aim as he listened to the caution. "How are they?" He didn't bother with introductions.

Harry, still crouched down next to Chris and Ezra, one hand resting on Ezra's head, said, "The cap'n is hurt but he'll make it. He's real tough." He looked down sadly, though, as he added, "Got a broken wrist and nose, ribs is pounded pretty good, but not broken."

Buck's eyes met his oldest friend's. "Chris?"

Larabee stared back. "I'm okay, just got knocked out for a few minutes." He looked down at the man in his arms. "Ezra could use some help." Buck could hear the anger and fear in Larabee's voice.

"We got Nate with us, Pard." He switched his attention back to the giant. "Can you keep folks out of this tent for a spell?"

Walton came forward on to his knees beside the other men. "Who's this Nate feller?"

Vin spoke again. "He's the healer, remember? I told you about him." He turned back to Buck. "Harry here will see to it we get some time, you send in Nate." He stood swiftly, causing Walton to rise also. "Easy, Harry, just gonna go guard the door." The buckskin clad man moved gracefully and silently to the side of the flap.

Chris looked up into two doubtful blue eyes. "Trust us, Harry. We're all Ezra's friends. We need your help so we can help him. Please?" Larabee found the last word falling easily from his tongue, though he sensed the surprise from both Vin and Buck. Normally, Chris would simply order or demand. Only these weren't normal times.

Harry heard the truth in Chris' words and stood back, turning to silently face each of the men one at a time. The eyes that met his were all clear and honest, colored with worry for their fallen friend. "I'll stand watch outside the door, pass in the hot water and bandages when they get here." He met Buck's eyes, instinctively knowing this man was in charge at the moment. "Should I still send Carly for your man Nate?"

Buck grinned and squirmed the rest of the way into the tent. "No need," he said as he rolled clear so Nathan could get in. The healer followed him in immediately. They had left Josiah and JD to watch their back trail and escape route.

Harry's eyes widened as the dark skinned man crawled in and made a bee line for Ezra and Chris. Shaking his head, he moved out of the tent, lowering the flap behind him. Vin maintained his place by the side of the now closed canvas, a hunting knife having magically appeared in one hand. Buck now knelt to one side of the injured men as Nathan tried to ease Ezra from Chris' arms. He met resistance.

"Chris, you gotta let him go so I can look him over." The dark healer tugged again, meeting once more with a solid, passive refusal.

Buck put one hand on Chris' nearest shoulder. "Let Nate tend him, Pard." He smiled reassuringly at the haunted look in his old friend's eyes.

Ezra shivered with chill. He felt the warmth of hands on his body but the steady heartbeat that had been the comfort at his ear was gone. He stirred, finding pain at every slight movement. Chris. He had to get back to his Angel Chris. He clawed his way to wakefulness, determined to find Chris. "Chris?" He licked split, cracked lips. "Angel?"

Nathan soothed the waking man, feeling the agitation in the tiny disjointed movements. "Easy there, Ezra, we'll get you fixed up soon."

"Nathan?" Ezra was confused. What was Nathan doing here? Had he dreamed this whole mission? And Chris? Had he dreamed that Chris wanted to be his lover? Loved him? With a catch in his breath, Ezra tried to push himself upward, only to cry out in agony as he put weight on his broken wrist.

"Lie still, Ez, I got to splint that wrist of yours." Nathan's large, sure hands covered the injured area as he laid thin sticks against it. Then Buck was handing him strips of cloth to bind them to the wrist, hold it in position for now.

Chris, who sat beside them, watching the expressions chasing each other across Ezra's face, knew that his little gambler needed some reassurance. He lightly touched the nearest cheek, mindful of the swelling flesh and bruising. "Hey, Ez? I'm right here. You be good for Nate, he's gonna set things for you."

"Chris!" Ezra's head turned quickly, too quickly to the side to see his partner, causing a wave of dizziness and momentary blackness to his vision. When it cleared, there was Chris, there beside him, looking anxious. Worried. For him? "Are you all right?" The words came out hoarsely and garbled. He coughed and tried again. "How do you feel?"

Nathan interrupted sharply. "Ezra! You be quiet now. Chris is jest fine, only got a little lump on his head."

Larabee ignored Jackson and leaned in closely, meeting those dull green eyes with his own, "Hey, Green Eyes, I promise, I'm fine and I won't leave you, not ever again."

"Wasn't your fault," Ezra was feeling better suddenly. It hadn't been a dream, Chris had just called him Green Eyes again, and in front of Nathan and Vin and -- and Buck. He smiled at the ladies man who was hovering now over Chris' shoulder. "Mistah Wilmington? You take care of Chris for me?"

"Always, Pard." Buck wasn't sure what was happening but he cared deeply for his friends and Ezra and Chris were hurting. "You just get yourself better for us, hum?"

Vin turned away from the closed tent flap. "We gonna try to break outta here? Or keep going?" The sharpshooter had been thinking about this since Buck had arrived and they knew they could slip away safely. They'd get out of here, take care of Chris and Ezra who were hurt. Only, Gant's men would ride into Four Corners tomorrow and it could be a massacre, the total destruction of the tiny town. Seven against nearly forty men. They'd done it before but how many times could they succeed at those odds? His eyes sought out Larabee's.

Chris knew in that moment that they needed to stay, see this through, if Ezra could do it. He was the key to breaking up the Gant gang. Hazel eyes dropped to the savagely beaten body of his partner. Oh, god, how could he ask it of him? The little gambler was a mess. Torn, broken and bloodied. Eyes that were a brighter green now, looked up to his. Saw the concern -- and the decision.

Ezra's quick mind had seen the whole situation even as Vin posed his hard questions. Can I still do this? He took a careful, deep breath, meeting the question in Chris' eyes. With a gasping grunt, he shoved himself up to a seated position with his good arm, disregarding Nathan's angry hiss. "We stay."

The pride in Chris' eyes was a gift that Ezra would hoard for years to come. His shoulders stiffened and he sat there as at attention. He could do this. He would do this. With his Chris at his side.

"Chris, I don't think that Ezra should --" Jackson never got to finish his sentence as Larabee talked across it.

"You sure, Ezra?"

"Yes, sir, Ah am." Ezra smiled as Chris sidled up beside him on the blanket and slid an arm around him to support him. "Especially now." His smile grew until a gold tooth shone. The dark circles forming around his eyes and bruises from the broken nose gave him a nearly sinister look, but the wide smile was enough for Chris who hugged his sweetheart gently.

Chris looked over at a disgruntled Jackson who was readying larger bandages to wrap Ezra's ribs. "Nate, Gant is planning on raiding Four Corners, he rides tomorrow." The other men froze momentarily in shock. "Ezra's reputation from the war may break off as many as a third of Gant's men, give us a flanking action. But, only if Ezra here leads them." He leaned in now and brazenly kissed Ezra on one cheek. Ezra beamed at him, obviously smitten.

Buck cleared his throat, eyeing the unlikely couple, then said, "You sure you can still do this, Pard?" He addressed himself to Standish.

"Ah shall be capable of mah role once our good friend Mr. Jackson completes his minstrations of my unhappy body." Ezra sent a tentative smile toward the healer who was shaking his head still.

"I'll do what I can, but you're hurt pretty bad, Ez, likely won't be free of pain until we can get you some rest in a bed for a week or so."

"One day is all Ah need, Nathan." The use of Jackson's first name, now that Standish was fully awake, was a measure of how sincere he was. The dark healer sighed and gestured to Larabee.

"Sit him up straighter now so's I can wrap his ribs." Chris nodded his silent gratitude to Jackson for not fighting this, for showing his respect for the smaller man by allowing him to do this without argument.

Vin turned back to the crack he'd made in the canvas flap, seeing Harry sitting just outside the tent, whittling on a stick. He watched as men came and went, sparing Walton only a few words as each approached the giant. Vin began to keep count. With the ones he already knew about and these, if they were buying into the breakaway group, then Ezra would lead close to fifteen men out of Gant's camp. Damn. With a soundless whistle, Vin sunk to his heels and shifted the canvas slightly so he could continue his watch. He'd always kinda liked their conman but more he thought the little guy was funny, fun to tease. Picturin' him as a leader, that was harder. He was a damn good fighter, for sure. Like he'd said to Ez earlier, he was proud to ride with him. And he had men like Harry just about salivatin' at the thought of ridin' with him again. Like to see our Ezra in action this time, not sure how I'm gonna do that. He squatted silently, still as a predator waiting for its prey.

Behind Vin, Chris caught Ezra as he sagged after the painful activity of the bandages strapped around his chest. Ezra rested his head back against Chris' own chest as Nathan now carefully probed the broken nose. Chris could feel the tremors shaking Ezra's body at the new source of pain. "Hold on, sweetheart, he's nearly done."

Wild green eyes flicked to the side to try to see Chris' face. Sweetheart? Ezra fought down the urge to turn and hug his partner. It was all he could do to remain still as Nathan tested the shape of the injured nose. Harry had done a job on it though and the shape, though swollen now, was essentially normal. Nathan nodded in approval, not sure who had reset the bones and cartilage but they'd done a good job. No way to splint it or even brace it, but, if left alone, it should heal all right. He looked up and realized that Ezra was not even paying attention. The smaller man was trying to see Chris without moving his head. Boy's got it bad, he thought. "Okay, Ezra, think you're going to be fine. For now, take it as easy as you can. Don't put any pressure on your nose, and try not to strain your ribs." Wasted he knew. At least until Ezra and Chris finished their parts in tomorrow's fight.

Buck patted Chris on one shoulder. "We need to get out of here before someone spots us. It's risky to stay longer than we have to."

"I'm done 'til we can get Ezra to my clinic." Nathan tidied away his medical bag. "You see that he makes it, Chris." He directed his warning to Larabee without any humor. By now, all the men present could see the new relationship between their leader and the small gambler.

Larabee held out his free hand to shake Nathan's. Catching it, he shook it firmly and spoke with feeling. "Thanks, Nate. I will." Then, he turned back to Ezra and met trembling lips with his own in a sweet, soft kiss. He let his feelings speak through that kiss and felt Ezra's tender response, lips parting to welcome Chris home.

Chris steadied the hack that Ezra'd been riding. He had it saddled and ready, his own as well. Morning had come with a brazen sun cresting the ridge where the camp perched, a line of dead campfires now all that remained of the bivouc. The men had been busy, striking tents and equipment. Everything that went with them was now strapped on a line of pack mules with two hostlers to ride herd on them. He glanced over at where Ezra stood, looking remarkably fine.

Harry had somehow procured a gray jacket to replace Ezra's brown work one. While not the perfect fit his tailor might have produced, it did give him an aura of times past, not so very long ago. His kepi had been replaced as well, traded really, at Carly's insistance for an officer's wide brimmed Reb cavalry hat. Carly, who'd kept the other as a souvenier, now proudly wore Ezra's old kepi.

Standish was chatting quietly with Walton and two other men, a group of close to a third of Gant's men had slowly gravitated back toward where Ezra's 'troop' was forming. Gant, without his second in command, had chosen Jeb Morgan to assist him and was busy at the head of the encampment, going over the trails with Morgan and several other men. No one seemed to have noticed the slow transformation of the gang into two groups.

Chris stroked the soft muzzle of the gelding. It was a decent enough mount, though no comparison to Ezra's Chaucer. He wished for the intelligent and stubborn steed now, wanting his friend mounted on the best possible horse. This one should be alright, though. He waited patiently. This was Ezra's show now.

Chris looked over his shoulder at the place where Vin had broken out just before dawn. Only on that wicked Indian pony, Peso, could the tracker have managed his escape so daringly. They'd decided that it would be safest to get Vin out of the camp before the gang headed on for their attack on Four Corners. The lean sharpshooter had the cooperation of Walton and his cohorts in getting away. Sneaking past a 'blind' picket, he'd freed Peso, mounted bareback with just a bridle quickly looped in place, and the two had plunged down the steep bluff face, through the heavy brush until they hit one of the myriad game trails, and then disappeared from sight.

The commotion of Tanner's escape had been short-lived. Gant, told by Chris and Walton that the man knew nothing of the gang's plans, decided not to set a chase after the bounty hunter. As far as he was concerned, the only ones in danger from the escapee were Sutler and James. Gant didn't care especially about these new men, so he let Tanner go.

Chris knew that the rest of the seven, now likely rejoined by Vin, were back at the town, setting up defenses, enlisting the help of townsmen, and readying for Gant's offensive. He and Ezra had quiety discussed strategies for the upcoming struggle. Although Ezra had been an officer, he'd been in the artillery units, not, as Chris had been, in the ground troops, and later cavalry units. The former Major Larabee had good advice on troop movements for the former Captain Sutler. Heads together, shoulders rubbing, the friends had plotted their actions. Chris would be at Ezra's side. He refused to even consider any other option.

The smaller man, much recovered, though still moving stiffly, finally agreed. With only one truly useable hand, he'd be unable to do much more than guide his mount. Or so Chris thought. Ezra chose not to dissuade him from this understanding. Soon enough for that. In war, you did what needed doing and didn't worry about injuries in the heat of battle, time enough for that later.

The call to mount up was passed down the line of men and animals.

Leather groaned and creaked as saddles were filled, the chink and rattle of bridles and bits, weapons and spurs, filled the air. The sound of hooves stomping and stepping restlessly followed. Then, far up at the front, Gant called out his orders and the troops of men fell into easy groupings, more casual than an actual soldierly unit, and moved out after him.

Standish had climbed into the saddle of his horse as Chris held the animal steady, taking up the reins he'd nodded to the dark clad gunman. Their eyes met, messages of affection and determination, worry and pride, passing back and forth. Then Ezra turned away to nod to Harry, already mounted beside him. Chris leapt into his own saddle, quieting his hack with firm hands.

Ezra, sitting as always with a firm, high seat, spine arrow straight and shoulders back, looked every inch the officer that he was. He'd held back on the reins for a few moments, allowing a gap to form in front of him. Now with a nod, he clucked at his horse and started out, keeping the animal on a tight rein so that the space between the men that followed him and the men in front remained.

Larabee fell into place at Ezra's side, stealing quick glances to reassure himself that the little gambler could still maintain his seat, had the strength to continue with this unforeseen charade. But Ezra sat tall and his chin was lifted as he flicked a glance of his own back over his shoulder at 'his' men. His perceptive eyes could see the way those men rode, sitting taller now than their compatriots in front of him. There was a renewed pride to the splinter group, a reclaimed sense of worth that years of following the basically criminal activities of Gant had whittled away. They were not guiltless, but if their efforts helped to save Four Corners and his friends, they would be redeemed in his eyes. And, they knew it.

The ride down off the hills and into the low rolling reaches of high desert took only a few hours. A cold camp was set up at noon near the banks of a shrunken streambed. Gant asked for Sutler and James to join him to look, once more, at his map and speak about approaches to Four Corners. Walton wasn't happy to see his friend led away, but kept the men remaining settled. They'd wait.

"Sutler, you say that if we come out of the hills here, they can't see our approach?" Gant was hunched over his map spread on the ground in front of him.

Ezra took in quickly the restless looks of the men surrounding Gant, the Morgans looking deadly and bored but with sharp eyes, several other tough looking riders. Not an easy audience, he thought with amusement. He knew that Chris was uncomfortable with all this, but it was basically a con, something he was very good at. Now that he was feeling a bit better, the pain, while present, largely subsided from the beating of the day before, he moved forward with confidence to squat beside the tall gang leader.

"Yes," he let a finger trace their ride of the morning, "we are here, correct?"

Jeb Morgan nodded silently in response to the challenging tone, unhappy to be forced to respond at all to this man he still didn't trust.

Ezra flashed a patented smile and rested his hands, one wrist bound, on his knees. He knew that Chris stood at his back, hovering like a dark angel of retribution should anyone threaten him. "Then, yes, that will take us in 'unannounced' if you will." His tone droll, he opened his eyes just a bit, conveying sincerity without overdoing it.

Gant studied the map silently. Finally he looked up and over at his scout. "You agreed, Jeb?"

Morgan nodded again, still suspicious of Sutler but unable to find reason to argue against this plan of attack. It was what he'd been ready to suggest when he and his son Sam rode back into camp from their scout. Only, this stranger who'd become trusted by Gant, had known the area and already pointed it out. Sitting back on his heels, where he squatted, he spat out some tobacco juice from his chaw, the brown juices splattering on the ground near Chris James' feet. The gunman blinked lazily at him, like a reptile awakened from its nap on a hot rock. The deadly look, still and penetrating, made Jeb nervous and he shifted slightly, looking away. The byplay was not lost on Ezra who had to fight the smirk that wanted to break out on his face.

A few more moments of desultory conversation and then Gant stood up. Jeb was left to fold up the map and tuck it in a pouch at his waist as Gant surveyed the camp and men. He nodded and looked over at Sutler. "That's it, then, we ride now."

The men dispersed, the few still on the ground quickly mounting up. Now that they were in more open country, the riders clumped in groups that were two or three abreast, circling once then riding out after their leader. Ezra once more holding back enough to subtly separate his men from the rest.

Chris wasn't a superstitious man as a rule. He'd once thought, not long after losing Sarah and Adam, that he'd seen them. Spiritual apparitions that appeared for him during a wakeful, grieving night. But, he could never be sure it hadn't just been a dream. Now, though, something was happening. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising and he had to hold himself rock steady to keep from twisting continually in the saddle to check for someone following them. No one else seemed to notice anything strange. Likely just nervous, don't like the idea of Ezra being so exposed in all this. Only, the thing was, he kept spotting more riders on either side of them, shadows really, that vanished when he turned to look at them straight on. When his eyes went back to the front, though, he once more 'saw' glimmerings at the corners of his vision.

Ezra noted Chris' uncharacteristic tells. The man, bless him, was nervous, but they'd get through this. He'd see to it. He sat up slightly, rising in his stirrups to see past Chris on one side, then Harry on the other. Was there something there? But no, the wide land remained empty. He could not think on that now, with a shrug, he settled into his normal posting seat.

Chris decided that what he noticed most about Ezra now as they rode, the smaller man in the lead position, was that Ezra looked dignified. It was not a term he had ever particularly associated with the little gambler, though, now that he thought on it, it did fit. Dressed as if stepping out of Chris' own past, the con man looked every inch the Confederate officer, a worthy opponent when Chris had faced off across many a no man's land during the war.

A dust plume rose up along the line of riders. A tattered flag of the Confederacy led with Gant's point men. It seemed incongruous among such desperadoes. The men rode with discipline and order, a slight break in the line about two thirds of the way back, but otherwise looking a formidible group. They broke from the trail they were on, led by the scouts Sam and Jeb Morgan, up into some gentle folds of hill that hid their final approach to the tiny town that was their target today. Their prey.

Ezra drew rein in the final dip of land, watching the rest of the men follow Gant over the crest. He knew that Four Corners lay just beyond. With a tug, he had his horse pirouetting on its hind legs, so that he could face his new following. As he turned, he met Chris Larabee's hazel eyes. There was a timeless moment of deep intensity as the two men silently pledged their love to each other. Then Chris leaned forward and up in his saddle, saluting Ezra smartly. "The men are ready, sir."

Green eyes widened and a spark of sheer surprise and pleasure answered Chris. Ezra seemed to swell slightly, his dark bruised features taking on a shine and firmness as he swung his glance clear of his friend and out over the men beyond them. Chris' little soldier was ready.

As Ezra's eyes swept over the men, there was a ripple as each in turn echoed Larabee's actions, sitting up tall and saluting their new chosen leader. Gazing at the men, noting Harry at his elbow, feeling Chris on his other side, Ezra was transported back in time seeing not these men but the men who'd fought so long, so hard, so desperately with him at the barricades, at the batteries, on the many fields of battle of that horrendous conflict. Faces he'd long since forgotten merged with the faces that looked to him now. He returned the salute with a tight chest, swallowing hard. The sudden ache he felt in his heart he knew was grief too deep to be acknowledged now. "We'll make you proud of us, boys," he murmured in promise to men who were not there.

Gant sat tall in the saddle, staring boldly at the town spread out below him. From his station on the final crest of rolling low hills, he and his men were ready to ride down on the town. He smiled grimly, thinking of the men he'd sent ahead last night, to infiltrate the town. Those ten men were his secret weapons, spies who became unexpected flankers at the moment of attack.

He swung his gaze to the sides, frowning. Only about twenty men sat horses in a line with his. The rest were lagging. He hauled back on his reins and backed his horse, casting a look over his shoulder, seeking the remainder of his gang. There. Riding abreast also, the remaining fifteen men were riding up the back of the hill now. That new man, Sutler and his companion, Chris James, were riding in the center of the line. Ralph Gant frowned again. The men, the whole line of them, were riding differently. It took him back to the war years, watching them, sitting smartly in their saddles, weapons at the ready. He looked across at the rest of his men but they sat slumped as normal, fingering their own guns, looking down at the town, expressions of greed and arrogance set on their faces. With a shrug at the anomaly of behavior of his following men, he turned back toward the town and raised one arm boldly. "We ride, boys!"

With yells and screams, the front line of Gant's men charged down the hill toward the defenseless town.

Buck locked the second cell door behind the last of the strangers, grinning at their looks of disgust and defiance. JD Dunne stood back, cradling a rifle in his arms as he watched. They had Clarence Boxwood and Ned Bullings here to stay with their prisoners, the two older townsmen both volunteering in the saloon earlier during the impromptu town meeting that Josiah and Judge Travis had organized. When the rest of the Seven had returned to Four Corners the night before, they'd met immediately with Travis in the saloon. Getting the townspeople to cooperate had been easier than Buck had expected. Mary Travis pointed out, however, that the men had been here long enough now so that they were trusted and respected. She'd started to qualify that with another remark about some being trustier than others, when Travis had interrupted her with a sharp word. She'd been looking up toward the back of the saloon and it didn't take much imagination for Buck and the others to realize she'd been alluding to their seventh, the gambler. He shook his head in remembrance. Something wrong there, Buck was sure, but he couldn't decide why Mary Travis suddenly seemed to have it in for Ezra. Looking at their prisoners, he mentally shrugged, Chris would deal with it when he got back.

Buck clapped JD on the shoulder, nodded at Boxwood and Bullings and led the way out into the street. JD followed, with a final look back at the ten men that had been rounded up late last night and throughout the morning. Josiah, Nate, Buck, and he had the whole town on alert and as each suspicious stranger drifted into town, the man would be identified and quietly removed from circulation. Protests were answered with 'temporary detainment,' a phrase, the good judge had explained, would allow the detention without arrest.

The dark haired youth with a sheriff's badge looked up at the roofline, spotting Vin's figure on the flat roof of the mercantile. It reminded Dunne of the captain's walks of the New England seaside homes of his younger years. From there, Vin Tanner could see out in all directions, all approaches to the town. They were fairly certain, from Chris' and Ezra's description of Gant's map and the 'recommended' trails, of where the attack would come but no one was taking any chances.

Buck shoved JD in the shoulder as he hesitated on the boardwalk in front of the jail. "Come on, kid, we gotta get in position."

JD nodded without comment, stepping off the boards and on to the dusty street. The tall ladies man stepped down beside him and the two lawmen strode toward their appointed places in the alleys cutting through the town. They'd each be hidden at the outside exits of the alleys, leading out toward the hills that rose slightly to the north of town. These alleys cut north - south across the small community whose only main street ran east - west. Danger usually rode down the main street, but from what Ez and Chris had told Buck, it was likely that this time the attack would come from the north.

Vin swiped his hat off his head as he knelt up alertly, looking at the mounted men suddenly appearing in a thin line along the crest of the hill north of town. This is it. He leaned down over the narrow wood trim of the roof front of the mercantile and gave a piercing triple whistle. Heads popped out of unlikely places looking up at him. He signaled with a broad arm swing and several townsmen, Nate, and Josiah, all responded with waving hats. Having warned his friends about the approaching men, Vin settled back on a knee, raising his long rifle and drew bead on the lead man that he recognized as Ralph Gant. Time for you to die, compadre. You've run your gang long enough. Vin's lips quirked into a smile as he noted the nervous way Gant eyed his men, then pulled back his horse to look back for the rest of them. Just noticin' that some are missing, are you?

Buck and JD split up and ran for their spots, Vin's shrill warning whistle and arm signal spurring their movements. Just as Buck slid into a belly flop, rifle in front of him, at the mouth of his chosen alley, next to the livery, he heard a sharp inarticulate command from up the shallow sloping hillside, and then men were riding down, full bore on the town, screaming, yelling, and firing off their guns. Buck picked his target carefully and fired. One of the riders dropped to the ground. From his right, he heard the crack of JD's rifle and another rider fell.

Vin fired and cursed when his shot only winged Gant whose mount had lifted over a fallen log just as he fired. By now, Josiah and Nathan were firing from their spots in second floor windows, then general firing began as the attackers continued down the hill, shooting, and hidden townspeople, the judge among them, returned fire. But there were a lot of men coming down at them. Then, above them, another line of mounted men appeared, rising like smoke on the crest. Vin caught his breath.

He'd expected maybe fifteen riders with Ezra and Chris. He spotted his two friends at the center of the line, but what had Vin rubbing his eyes was the size of the troop. More than twice what he'd expected, the thin gray line of soldiers seemed to go on for an indeterminate distance in each direction and vaguely, it looked like even more men just behind. "What the hell?"

Then Ezra stood up in his stirrups and yelled something, raising his hat and waving it. The answering Rebel yell from multiple throats had the attacking men below swinging around in surprise.

Gant, holding one arm, trying to staunch the bleeding as he dragging his reins and turned his mount, spat a curse. Ezra Sutler was charging down the hill and firing directly at his men. To each side of the small man, a line of his own men had joined the former Reb captain and were likewise firing at them. Firing back with anger, he saw his men wheeling into a defensive circle, facing both the armed camp of the town, another unexpected surprise, and the rear flanking action of part of their own troops. Damn! What was happening? Gant watched Jeb Wheeler go down, with his son screaming his father's name and dropping from his own mount to kneel by his dead pa, shooting wildly back up the hill.

Gant dropped from his animal, releasing its reins as it bucked and backed, then fled once freed. He knelt behind the body of another horse that still strained to rise up on a broken foreleg. That goddamn shit, he's turned my men! Gant had eyes only for Sutler as he braced his long barreled Colt and took aim. His finger whitened as he squeezed on the trigger, but before the weapon could discharge, Gant fell lifeless to the ground, a bullet between his eyes.

Chris lifted his Colt and looked for another target, his gun smoking.

He rode close by Ezra and began shooting methodically at the men trapped below, between the town and Ezra's troop. Turning in the saddle to shoot at an escaping man on horseback, Chris froze for a moment, seeing now the gray and ghostly line of men that rode silently with them. Like smoke dancing in a breeze, the gray images of ragged, mounted Confederate troops flickered in and out of existence as they kept pace easily with his own mount, the men's faces amazingly clear as they turned to look toward him and beyond, he knew, toward Ezra.

"EZRA!"

Larabee's shout had Standish's head whipping around in fear. But Chris was safe beside him, their two horses steady and together as they rode down into the melee. Just beyond Chris, he saw the ghostly cavalry that accompanied their charge. Somehow, he knew not to fear and smiled. No, no fear at the sight of old friends, long dead, who rode once more with him. With a nod that was answered, he turned slightly to grin at Chris.

"It's alright, Chris! They're friends!" That's all he had time for as his horse stumbled and jerked to a stop at the pile up of men and mounts at the bottom of the hill. Dismounting, he dragged his short sword free of the extra scabbard, and ignoring the pain, grabbed his saddlebags with his injured arm. Larabee was off his own horse now and they were facing the grimly fighting men of Gant's command. Ezra slashed out with his sword at a bolder man who had leapt over several corpses to try to smash into the smaller man and get past him to a free horse and safety. With a final thrust, Ezra left his sword buried to the hilt in the man's chest and fumbled with his bags, pulling two sticks of dynamite loose.

He managed to get a cigar out of his jacket and lit in seconds, crouching beside the body of his opponent. He dimpled at Chris whose eyes had opened wide at the sight of the dynamite.

"Ezra, no!"

But Standish had already lit the short fuse and stood, flinging one stick, then a second, into the air. The twin sticks twirled lazily above the confusion of the fighting, then dropped down into the midst of the still fighting men standing in a tight knot.

Two loud explosions, so close together as to be a single sound, burst. The clap of sound was followed by an echo of silence, then cries of wounded and dying men.

Harry Walton shook his head in regret, the sounds a too familiar echo from his past for his liking. But the explosives had ended the fight. Slowly he holstered his gun and sheathed his rifle, one weapon had been in each hand. No one was left standing among Gant's attacking force, except for one horse that cried out pitifully as it tugged its reins free of a dead man's grasp and trotted away from the death at its feet. He saw that James was staggering to his feet and reaching for Ezra, so he caught up the reins on their loose horses, swiveling in his seat to look at the rest of Ezra's men. Sutler's band was milling about in confusion, no clear enemy left to fight. He could see armed men emerging from buildings' shadows and the mouths of alleys of the small town. Harry stirred uneasily, trotting his mount up to where his captain now stood silently surveying the bodies of the dead. His friend stood at his side, one hand resting on the captain's slumped shoulder.

"Sor." Harry saluted with his free hand, his other holding the reins of his horse and the following ones.

Ezra blinked away tears that he just now realized were falling. He ignored Harry Walton's voice, shaking as he looked at the dead men at his feet. He knew that Chris was beside him, a silent support. It still hurt to do this, after all these years. He dragged the gray hat from his head and threw it angrily on the ground, then was shrugging out of his borrowed jacket, Chris' hands there to help. Once free of it, he threw it savagely to the ground to join the hat. "No more!" he grit out in fierce anger. Then his eyes flew up to meet Larabee's. Pleadingly, he said again, "No more."

Chris nodded, pulling Ezra into his arms and holding the shaking man tightly. He whispered in the nearest ear, "No more, Ez, I promise."

Finally looking up, green eyes met hazel ones, and Ezra nodded jerkily. Then he pulled free of Larabee's embrace and raised his eyes to Harry who waited patiently on horseback only a few yards away. "Go home, Harry. Take the men and go."

Ezra turned to Larabee. "If they ride out now, we don't stop them." It wasn't a question. Chris nodded anyway. He understood. Second chances had been earned.

Walton dropped the leads on the other two horses and saluted. "Sor, it's been a pleasure. Thank you." He wheeled his horse and called out. Carly, rode up to join him, waving once, then sending a salute toward the small man standing there so straight among the dead. Gradually, the rest of the men who'd wanted to break free of Gant and now were, joined Walton who nodded once to Larabee and raising his hand in another salute, held it there as he rode past Ezra, leading out these men.

Chris and Ezra stood there, watching as the ragtag remnants of Gant's men rode off toward the east. Behind them, Chris could hear the sounds of Buck and Josiah calling out as they moved forward to check the bodies on the ground. Chris' eyes rose to look north and his teeth clicked together. "Ez. Look there."

Standish turned to face the crest. There, sitting horseback, was a line of men. They were a ghostly remnant of the Army of the Confederacy, silent and passive, their horses' heads bobbing in place. Then, one stood up in his stirrups and raised an arm high. For a moment more, the images were clear and sharp, then, they softened and faded, gently dissipating on the morning air. Another few heartbeats and the vision was gone, leaving a hillside of soft dry grasses and a scattering of wildflowers bending in a slight breeze, the sunlight bright and hazy on them.

Ezra stood there, staring at the place where moments before long-gone friends and fellow soldiers had been. He wiped his face with a steady hand and murmured, "Fare you well, mah friends." After another moment, he swung to face Larabee. "It's done."

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