Sometime later, Ezra finally blinked back sleep and sat up, stretching and yawning. The sun was still much too low in the morning sky to be a decent hour but if he wanted to be off today, to go find Chris, he'd best be getting up. Already he felt the warmth of the sun on his face and pushed away the tangled blanket. The pool of fresh water beneath the towering willows looked very inviting. He remembered the last time he and Chris were here. They'd gone skinny-dipping. It was glorious, lying on a spread blanket afterwards, the sun drying their skin and warming them, as they warmed each other. Yes, he had to get Chris to forgive him. He had to make Chris see, they had something very special. He for one did not want to lose that, lose Chris.

With sudden decision, he flung the blanket off the rest of the way and stood. Damn! He'd forgotten his feet. Dropping quickly back down, he sat and massaged the abused members carefully. They stung and burned a bit, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. If he soaked them in the cold water, it would help, and he'd be clean too. He removed his shirt and added it to the folded pile of other clothing, then his undergarments and socks. Naked as the day he was born, he cautiously picked his way to the fresh-fed pool, grateful for the soft carpet of new spring grass. In one hand he held a sliver of his favorite soap, in the other a small towel and his razor.

Reaching the pool, he crouched down and set out the towel, placing the razor within its folds, then set the soap beside it. First he'd bathe, soak out the pains, dirt, and soreness, get rid of the feel of entrapment that came with any lengthy stay at Nathan's clinic.

Gracefully, he rose and moved closer to the edge of the pool. He knew this place and knew the best spot for slipping into the water on a broad bedrock shelf that was sun-dappled and warm and overhung the pool. His slender, slight form was a supple shadow among the saplings nearest to the water's edge. For a moment, he crouched above the pool, looking down into his own moss green eyes in the still water, then, feeling self-conscious he stretched out one leg and lowered himself into the water, the rest of his body barely disturbing the surface as he submerged.

"Whoosh!" He bounced up out of the water and splurted spray, shaking his hair free of his eyes. God this felt good. His feet even felt good, numbed by the chill liquid.

They'd reached the entrance to Sandstone Canyon, on the far side of the flats. Ezra's tracks were plain in the dust there, or Chaucer's really. But Vin knew the tracks of all seven's mounts and these were Chaucer's. No doubt.

Chris looked up the canyon, a small smile building on his face. So this is where he went. "Vin. I can take it from here. I know where he is now."

Tanner raised an eyebrow. "The old willow spring up at the canyon's head?"

Chris turned to face his friend. "Yeah."

"Maybe, if he knows about it --"

"He knows." Larabee interrupted with certainty.

Tanner sat there and studied his friend, could almost feel the eagerness now. "So." He reined Peso around in the reverse direction, "How long you two gonna stay out here?"

Chris grinned. "However long it takes."

The tracker grinned back but let his unease show as well.

Reading him without effort, Chris shook his head and let his grin become a confident smile. "Not that long, maybe a couple of days. If we're not back by then, you can come looking."

"If you ain't back by then, Cowboy, I'll bring the fellers with me, you'll probably need'em to help carry you back."

Chris actually laughed out loud at that and gave Vin a brief salute of finger to hat brim. Tanner returned it and then kicked Peso into a lope, circling out and wide of the treacherous lava fields, back towards Four Corners.

As soon as Tanner had started out, Chris turned back and he and Solon started into the canyon. Both knew it well and made good time to the game trail at the shadowed end. Impatiently, Larabee leaned forward over Solon's shoulders as the big black pushed up the narrow trail, both coming upright at the top of the bluff and out into the open meadowland. There was Chaucer, grazing at the edge of the stand of willows. So he'd gotten here in time.

The chestnut raised his head and whinnied a welcome to Solon who returned it with a snort. Chris couldn't keep the grin off his face as they loped the remaining yards to the tree line. Swinging out of the saddle he dropped his reins to ground-tie Solon, not that he was worried. The horse would stay here, with Chaucer.

And there, through the trees, by the pond, was Ezra, just rising out of the water. Oh, my god, he looks like the Greek companion to some mythical wood nymph he thought as he caught his breath at the beauty of Ezra's youthful form, small and compact, graceful and firm, muscles smooth and elegant. His elegant gentle man, HIS. Skin sparkling with water droplets, hair shining in a reddish brown cap, he looked newly made there in the sunlight and shadow of the secret pool. Standing there, on their rock, pushing water and hair out of his eyes, smiling at him.

Drawn helplessly to the southerner's side, Chris strode through the shade of the weeping willows and up on to the rock and without stopping gathered the smaller man into his arms, hugging him close, capturing soft lips in a bruising, possessive kiss.

Twisting around on his boot heels, Chris re-wrapped his arms even tighter around Erza, as if trying to draw the smaller man inside his own body. He was desperately plundering the willing mouth, somehow consuming his partner. Both pulled back a hairs-breadth to pant and gasp for breath. "Ezra." Larabee's harsh whisper against the southerner's lips was a heart's cry of pain and loneliness. "Oh, god, don't ever run out on me again. Please."

Big green eyes were moist and relieved, all shutters dissolved as Chris stared into the man's soul. "No. Nevah." The soft dulcet sounds of the south rang sweetly. Chris sighed, inhaling Ezra's breath and then pressing their lips together again, more gently this time, but just as insistently. His hands, a moment ago holding tightly to the slickly wet skin of the other, now began to travel in slow reassuring patterns up and down Ezra's back. Standish had finally managed to slip his arms up around Larabee's neck and was clinging tightly himself.

Parched, like I haven't had a drink of Chris in a very long time. Dully, Ezra was aware of the world around them, of his friend's dark, heavy clothing, leather jacket warm and sticky against his bare skin. Nothing really mattered as long as Chris held him like this. He felt enveloped in the man's love, never spoken but clearly shown now. This was no momentary lust, not this. Smiling tearfully, Ezra broke free as Chris paused in still another man-eating kiss for breath. "Chris, I do believe I love you."

Glowing hazel eyes burned into his as Larabee drew his head back enough to meet Ezra's bright green eyes. "I know I love you." As simple as that, they announced their feelings and things would never be the same. And that was alright, too. And then they were kissing again as if the world might stop if they did.

Finally, as if they'd each reassured the other enough to cling together and simply breath, Ezra's head came down against Chris' shoulder and Chris' chin found it's place on the top of the southerner's head. It was one of their comfort positions that had evolved over time and now was a natural 'nesting' place for them. Ezra's arms came down and his hands curled around the gunman's narrow waist inside the leather jacket. Smiling, Ezra tugged gently at the tucked in shirt. "Someone around here has too many clothes on."

There was a choked sound of laughter, then the gruff sound of Chris' low, quiet voice. "You think?" His hands had found twin holds at the base of Ezra's spine, cupping the ass cheeks and squeezing them. "I figure I don't need to even open up much to get myself inside you. Maybe just loosen a few buttons," he added teasingly.

Ezra shivered with delight. Here he was completely unclothed and held in this man's arms, a man fully dressed and still wearing his weapons and even his damn hat. It was deliciously baroque somehow, like a rare wet dream come true. Turning his head into Larabee's neck, he licked at the strong tendon exposed to him and felt an answering shiver.

"Jesus, he's got a goddamn catamite!"

Both men froze, unable to believe they'd been so lost in each other that they hadn't heard the approach of anyone else. Chris began to slide one hand down Ezra's hip toward his holstered pistol.

"No, don't think you should do that, mister." The warning was accompanied by several clicks of cocking guns.

Chris stopped moving his hand. His first thought was Ezra. Shit, I've got to protect him somehow. Tilting his head up, dark brim shading his features still, he looked around and felt himself fill with despair. At least six men stood in a half-circle facing them and the pool at their backs. "Just do what I tell you, Ezra." The whisper was barely a breath of air against one perfect ear. He felt the gambler stiffen in his arms but there was nothing more he could do to reassure him yet. Then he heard the firm, low, "No, Chris, we're in this together." And knew his lover was still one of his six men, a fighter.

One of the men stepped forward at some signal from the leader, carefully dragging Larabee's gun out of the holster, but was unable to resist touching the smooth wet skin exposed to them. He smiled as he let his finger trace a line up the curved spine and then shouted inarticulately as the man in black knocked his arm away angrily. "Don't touch!" The two men glared at each other, though the outlaw ducked his head after a second and then stepped back. Tension eased immediately.

Ezra was frozen in outrage. That man's paw had touched him. Disgust sharpened his mind and he realized that Chris had swung them around so that the gunslinger could face and confront their adversaries, and hold Ezra protectively. Damn it. He wanted to face them too, but Larabee's arms were like bands of iron now and he couldn't move. Then Chris was speaking.

"I'm taking off my jacket. Covering him up."

There were several snorts of laughter from the men around them. The apparent leader grinned. "Go ahead. He's your candy, for now." Turning his head, he began to issue orders to his men, getting a camp set up. The man with the trespassing hand stayed there, keeping Larabee and the gambler under his gun sights.

The gunslinger released his hold reluctantly from Ezra and shrugged his jacket free, catching the gambler's shoulders as the other man tried to swing around and face the others. "No. Ez, don't." His tone was low, almost pleading now that he acknowledged that his partner was an equal.

Standish looked up at Chris and stopped fighting him, waited as Chris draped his leather jacket over the smaller man's shoulders. It was his short riding jacket, but their height difference was enough that it hung below Ezra's hips providing some cover and modesty. Chris wanted to simply wrap it around his friend but knew that would be protested, so he helped Ezra thread his arms into the sleeves, then pulled it closed in front and buttoned it, face serious and concentrated as he did one button at a time. Small, fine boned hands came to rest upon his larger, more gnarled ones. Stroked them and then gripped tightly, so that Chris could feel the strength there. "Together, we'll win this together," Ezra whispered.

Ezra was thinking at lightning speed, they were outnumbered and had no weapons. A con was definitely called for, but while Chris had displayed a wicked sense of teasing on more than one occasion, he really didn't seem to have much talent for the con. That was alright, the master was here, he just had to get Chris to trust him on this. That might be difficult in light of the recent revelations. Chris loved him. He'd actually said the words. For a moment, Ezra was giddy with joy, unable to keep his mind on their predicament. Damn, Ezra P. Standish, get a grip on yourself or you will lose this precious man to these ruffians.

That dash of cold reality put things back in perspective. Alright, what do we have to work with? He was naked, covered only in Chris' too-big jacket. The sleeves were so long, only the very tips of his fingers showed beneath the cuffs. No sleight of hand likely when I can barely get my hands free. Something UP the sleeve, perhaps? Unfortunately, he knew from past experience that Larabee's only other personal weapon was his boot knife and the currently staring miscreant was likely to notice him try for that.

Back to the game. What do I have to work with? The tall blonde was nearly rocking on his heels in anxiety now, arms back around Ezra in a protective circle. Sneaking a glance upward, higher than normal what with him barefoot and Chris in his boots, I must look like a child next to Chris right now. With sudden bedazzled enlightenment, Ezra smiled shark-like and let his face smooth out. His mother had played on his small size and very young looks for many a con in the past, time to put that experience to good use.

"Chris?" Ezra's whisper was very faint. Larabee spared a look down at his charge, he'd been staring gimlet-eyed at the fuck who'd touched Ezra and now had them covered with a Colt. Ready to swing his eyes back up, he was startled by the feral smile gracing Erza's face and then a swift wink that had him deeply fearful. Shit. Ezra is up to no good, likely get himself shot if I let him. He squeezed, hard, and felt the whoosh of air leave the smaller body. The greens looking up at him switched from fierce amusement to understanding. "Chris, trust me, let me do this. I can get us out of this."

Even as denial came to his lips, Larabee looked up at the campsite now overrun with lawless rough looking men, one angry one staring back at him over a gun sight. Their only hope might be Ezra's talents. Dear god, forgive me, I'm gonna let him do it. He stiffened and looked back down. He looks so damn young, so small -- so fucking beautiful. Those vivid green eyes were still watching him, cautiously now. Swallowing hard against a sudden lump in his throat, he nodded imperceptibly. "What do you want me to do?"

The eyes closed in relief and then opened in sly confidence, "Just play along -- with your 'catamite.'" And Ezra's smile was a flash of bright white and gleaming gold, dimples sweet and deep. Chris nodded helplessly, fearful and hopeful at the same time. "Now, loosen your arms so I can turn around. Um, and unbutton this jacket for me."

"Unbutton? Ez, you don't want me to do that."

"Yes, Chris, I do."

"Hey! Shut your traps! No talkin' or I'll take your little boy there and have ME a new 'friend'." The angry sour tones were sharp and Chris looked up to throw a glare of fiery proportions at the ugly man only feet away from them. He dropped his arms and found his fingers undoing the buttons on the jacket even as he sighed. He had a very bad feeling about this.

Once the jacket was unfastened, Chris' hands automatically started to go around the smaller body again, but Ezra was already turning beneath them, so that Chris ended up with hands on the backs of Ezra's shoulders. He could just imagine the picture this made, with Ezra looking tiny and beautiful, young and helpless, standing before him, his form lost in the too-big jacket, his eyes so large and green, that skin so pale and the hair shining in unruly reddish gleams of dark brown curls. He grit his teeth, pretty sure he knew what Ezra was intending and not liking it, not one little bit.

Ezra, however, wasn't intending to do anything more -- yet. He was dangling the bait just now. It was too early and too dangerous to try to land the fish yet. Too many other sharks around. He moved just a bit, more a swaying of his hips to adjust his weight on still tender feet than anything else. The stiff black leather that framed his torso swung gently, opening and closing slightly. He watched the man across from them from under hooded lids. He kept his face smooth, knowing he looked very young that way, young and innocent. Well, he could fix the last part easily enough, letting his eyes heat with a sultry look, cocking his head slightly and giving his shoulders a little shake that momentarily loosened Chris' grasp. Those hands returned quickly but the other man, the ruffian, had noticed. His own eyes were rounding now and he began to lick his lips slowly. Hum, two can play with that, Ezra thought smugly, and began to lick his lower lip, letting his tongue emerge pointed and curled, knowing it would look very pink against his Irish-pale skin.

"Shelby, where's Tern? Shouldn't he be here by now?" Harkness was too tired to be really angry, but finding that cowboy and his 'boy' here had been a blow. The place obviously wasn't as secret as Tice and Tern thought.

Shelby had been silently thinking the same thing. He looked over at their prisoners. Not likely to cause much trouble, he shrugged, no reason to kill them yet, they might prove useful, have some information about the local places, especially if Tern didn't show up soon. "He'll be here." He tried to sound confident, but they could see a far distance and there were no riders anywhere in sight. With sudden decision, he looked over his men. "Garvy, you head west one day's ride, Pincer, you head south, and Kelly, you ride east. See where we are, if you find a town, scout it out, listen for word on Tern and his boys. Be back by tomorrow night."

The three men stood and nodded, bundling up their bedrolls again and gear. Ray Harkness approved but didn't speak, he didn't want to do anymore riding just yet. A quick look over at their prisoners made him suddenly feel hot and tight at the sight of the boy standing there covered only partly by the big man's jacket. Don't always have to be a woman that eases me, he thought with growing heat.

"Damn. Chris, one of them is named Shelby." Ezra was speaking out of the side of his mouth now, lips barely moving.

Larabee looked down in confusion, "So?"

Watching the three men mount up and head out, Ezra waited. Then in a calculated move, he turned his profile to the remaining miscreants and tilted his head up at Chris, pulling his shoulders back and shifting his hips forward so that his pelvis pushed beyond the loosely hanging edges of the jacket. "In the bank, the one who caught me, the one you shot, the others called HIM 'Shelby' too. Why do there always have to be brothers?"

Chris heard Ezra's words but only distantly, because the damn man was shoving his 'equipment' out for the world to see, perky and rosy, in a nest of reddish blonde hair. "Ezzz-rah!" came out between gritted teeth, as he swung a hand down to cover the soft genitals, cupping them completely and firmly pushing them and the hips back within the shadow of the leather coat. He could feel the wrinkled flesh begin to fill and drop within his palm, making him sweat. Oh, gawd, not now for chrissakes.

Two other sets of eyes followed every move now, both glued on the big hand that was covering the temptingly displayed and now vanished cock and balls of the boy. Two mouths hung open and saliva was starting to gather. Harkness wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked over at Tice who was watching his riders head out and hadn't noticed anything. Parnell, the man guarding their prisoners, licked his lips again, then spit to the side, a small grin starting to form nervously as he fingered the trigger of his pistol, wishing it was somethin' else he had in his hand just now.

Ezra moaned softly, having Chris touch him like this was definitely not part of the plan.

Tice Shelby was worried though he didn't want the others to know it. Tern should have been waiting here. The fact that he wasn't was bad, very bad. He trusted his cousin, they'd ridden together since their early teens, only splitting to pursue different interests as they got older and began to each want more control. Leading different gangs had answered that but now, older still, it had seemed like a good idea to team up again, safer with someone at your back that you could trust.

Tice stared into the small campfire in irritation, he didn't like Ray Harkness at all, didn't trust the bastard, but he was very good with his gun, and didn't flinch at the hard stuff. Jutting out his jaw, he stirred the fire with a stick, then let his eyes travel to the two horses that had been here when they arrived. The big black had still been saddled, ground tied, easy to catch and add to their remuda. The chestnut, without even a loose halter on him, might as well be a wild one. He showed too much breeding of course, and there was a saddle, Tice glanced over at it and back to the horse that kept moving in toward the remuda line, then shying back away, almost like he was playing some damn game. Gotta be the boy's horse. Probably only green broke, though why he hadn't been tied up -- unless of course he'd broken free of some rope? Didn't much matter. Shrugging, he decided to worry about the horse later too. Once the others were back it would be only a matter of minutes to rope him. He poked the fire again, waiting for the water to boil in the camp coffee pot.

Ray Harkness was definitely interested now. Rubbing sweaty hands on his pant legs, he stood up from where he'd been sitting across from Tice. Taking a quick breath, he started toward their prisoners. His movement was noticed by Shelby, though, who seemed to be finally reminded of the two men they'd found here.

"Harky, why don't you and Parnell bring our 'guests' over here. We should probably tie up the big guy."

Ray nodded, that fit in very nicely with what he had in mind. "Sure, Tice." Harkness turned and walked over the short distance to where Parnell was standing, practically drooling over that boy, hardly looking at the cowboy at all. He drew his own gun and stood to one side. "Ok, gents, let's move this over here a bit closer to the fire." He motioned with his pistol, Parnell seeming to wake as from a dream and stepping back as well.

Ezra watched the interactions of the three remaining men with close attention, quickly seeing the pecking order. He could probably discount Parnell but the one called Harky was another matter. The man was very large and very interested. Well, size wasn't always an advantage. This Shelby seemed to be rather common sensible which could be dangerous and would need watching. He did however have a few figurative aces up his rather long sleeves, he thought with smugness.

With a simple wiggle, Ezra broke free of Chris' hand but didn't try to force the issue of exposure. He'd made his 'point', he thought with amusement. He stepped forward carefully, fully aware that his bare feet didn't need any extra abrasions.

Chris took a deep breath and held it. He kept his eyes flicking from man to man in front of them, looking for a non-existent opening. If they didn't get a break soon, he had a feeling that things were going to get worse. He still hadn't figured out what the hell Ezra was doing and that made him nervous, tricky little bastard could get himself killed if he tried flirting with these toughs. Killed or worse. He didn't let himself dwell on that thought but found his muscles tensing impossibly tighter, painfully so.

When Ezra began to obey the order to move forward, Chris decided to take back some control, if only a little. He grabbed Ezra's forearms and wrapped them across the gambler's chest, closing the front of the jacket in the process. Ezra turned his head, his eyes seeking out Chris' for a second, one closing again in that damnable wink. But he didn't fight the position and kept his arms in place across his chest as they parted slightly to walk into the camp.

Tice picked up a tin cup and filled it with fresh coffee, wrapping his hands around the pleasant warmth as he studied the two men now approaching. The smaller one really did look more like a boy, though there was something there -- something about the eyes that bespoke more experience, a tougher quality than they'd so far assumed. Maybe he better have both of them tied up after all. He took a sip and looked away to check on the chestnut who was still dancing around the end of the remuda line. Maybe I'll just shoot the damn animal and we can have us some horse steaks for supper.

Parnell grabbed Ezra's arm, just above the elbow and tugged him close, shoving the pistol into his side, turning him slightly so the big man in black could see where the pistol was. Harkness' face darkened, he'd wanted to do that. With bitter anger, he pushed the other man so that he stumbled. Before he could recover, Harkness used a booted foot to kick out and Larabee ended up on his hands and knees beside the fire.

"Sit down or your pretty boy won't stay that way." The sneer in his voice was evidently convincing because the blonde sat down, glaring up at Ray. "Put your hands behind your back. Now." Stepping around the man with caution, he drew a piece of rawhide from his waist pocket and quickly squatted, keeping the gun drawn. Parnell and the boy remained in place nearby, the man's gun pressing hard enough to make the younger man bend slightly. The blonde kept staring at the pair, ignoring what was happening to his own hands and wrists.

No one seemed to think hobbling Larabee's legs would be necessary for which Ezra was grateful. Chris would be a dirty fighter if pushed to the wall, and they were there now. He tried not to think about what might go wrong now, he had to juggle the actions of three men. He was ready to bet that he could now predict each of their moves in the face of what he was about to do. Since he would be betting Chris' life on this, not just his own, he had to be sure, though. One way was to add a bit more 'color' to the scene.

Ezra dropped his arms to his sides, letting the jacket come open and surged ever so slightly ahead of the one called Parnell, so that the jacket was pulled back and up, it's loose over-sized fit causing it to hitch up higher on his shoulder, exposing more of his torso and his genitals again. By now he was sweating quite a bit, a combination of arousal from Chris' touch, fear, and the heavy black leather jacket that seemed like being in a sweat lodge. Having sweat-slickened skin would also help. The shine alone was an artistic touch he thought, and wriggled ever so slightly, once again.

Larabee sat fuming, hands now tied behind him, watching helplessly as Ezra began some strange movements that ended up damn near making him naked again. It was almost criminal how sexy he looked in that black jacket, his pale rosy skin and darker arousal now shining with a coating of sweat. Chris gulped and drew his legs up, knees against his chest, feet tightly under him. He could rock forward, catch his balance and be on his feet in a heartbeat now. He watched Ezra, whatever the little shit was gonna do, he could tell it would be soon.

"Ray!" Tice Shelby bit out the name in exasperation as Harkness, having secured the blonde cowboy moved in rapidly on the boy in Parnell's hands. Tice took another quick sip of coffee but didn't move. Damn man is gonna have his fun no matter what I say. Sometimes you just had to let the men do what they wanted or you could lose control altogether. With an angry frown, he watched his second in command step over the blonde, holstering his gun as he moved. Then he was next to Parnell and elbowing the shorter man out of the way.

"Hey!" Parnell yelped and backed up, wanting to keep his prize but too afraid of the hulking Harkness to press his luck. With a frustrated curse, he shoved his own gun back in his holster and stepped out of the way. Maybe he could have a share when Harky was done. He licked his lips again, then spit to the side, smiling broadly when his saliva landed on the blonde's shoulder.

Ray could actually taste this now, the little guy was staring up at him with the biggest green eyes he'd ever seen, a smug little smile on his face. Oh, yeah, he wanted this too. This was gonna be fun alright. Ray reached out and took hold of the big man's jacket, gripping one loose front edge and yanking for all he was worth. The boy spun around, coming free of the jacket and staggering for balance. He moaned ever so softly. Ray could feel his erection swelling, harder than it had been in some time. Oh, boy.

Chris couldn't believe his eyes. This was the plan? He surged to his feet in blind rage, growling.

Parnell's eyes were glued on the boy, now totally naked again. He hadn't got a real good look at him before now. This was well worth waitin' his turn for he thought in avid anticipation.

Tice Shelby closed his eyes in disgust, the very thought of what was about to happen repulsing him.

Chaucer's head snaked forward again as he danced close to the black gelding, his blunt front teeth gripped and pulled hard one more time. His friend, the big black came free of the line, tossing his head and holding it high to keep the reins off the ground and from under his front feet. The two horses moved rapidly closer to their men. Neither liked the new men or horses that had joined them.

Glistening in the soft afternoon sunlight, Ezra stood proudly, facing Ray Harkness, tilting his head back to meet the huge man eye to eye. Ray was interested in getting some special relief, that was clear and he shook off the challenging eyes with a scoffing laugh. His big hands came out and caught the green-eyed boy by his arms and jerked him forwards, to bring him close. Something happened and the boy was somehow slipping free and stepping back, stance wide and semi-crouched. That just made him look more appetizing as far as Ray was concerned. Unworried about any fight the smaller figure might put up, Harkness lunged forward again, grappling for a hold.

This was just what Ezra had been angling for. He'd learned wrestling in the streets of big cities, and more formally in one academy that Maude had actually paid to have him attend his 13th year. The concept of wrestling, Greek-style, had always intrigued him, naked bodies fighting for holds on slick, muscular skin. He grinned tightly and once more slipped out of Harkness' big hands, hooking a leg and tugging hard. The big man fell with a thud and the sound of Parnell laughing.

From the corner of his vision, Ezra saw that Shelby was standing now, but still held his coffee cup, clearly didn't see any real danger in the confrontation. Chris was standing too, and bent nearly double, trying to force his tied hands under his hips. No one except Ezra saw Chaucer and Solon coming up behind Shelby, both looking less than friendly. Just have to keep this going a bit longer, he thought as he panted and lurched back from a long armed grab at his ankle. If he landed on the ground, he would be in serious trouble, because then the bigger man's weight would be the telling factor. One foot, still frictionless with new skin, slipped from under him on mossy rock at the edge of the pool. Risking a quick look at his footing, he spotted his small toiletry items lying where he'd left them and, just like that, a new plan took shape.

Harkness was red with embarrassment that the kid had managed to keep away from him so far, he was like an eel. Well, by god, they were nearly at the water, he could just push the kid in and that would slow him down. He knew that Parnell and Shelby were watching, judging him, finding him weak and stupid in his actions. Fuckin' wouldn't be good enough for this kid, he's gonna suffer for this. Really suffer. Pushing himself up to his feet again, he lurched ahead, the kid just out of reach, crouching down as if that could save him.

Chris gave up for a moment on his attempt to free his hands. The one called Parnell was totally engaged in watching Ezra fight off the giant. Chris took a fast step forward and kicked out with all his might, the heel of his boot, still spurred, rowled across Parnell's jaw, punching his head back on his neck with a deadly sounding snap, sending the man to the ground in an unmoving heap. The move caused Chris to falter, though, and stumble back down on his knees. With a snort, Chris sank down and wriggled his butt over his wrists, forcing them under his thighs and behind his boots. The spurs caught for a moment on the rawhide, then he was done, hands in front of him though still tied, sitting on the ground wheezing in his efforts. Panic made him look, tossing his head to the side to get his hair out of his eyes. When he could see again, the blonde nearly cried out in terror. Ezra was a small curled up shape at the feet of the looming Harkness, on the bank of the pool and Harkness was leaning down over him, arms out and hands extended like two huge claws.

Behind him, Larabee heard a shout and a clatter of hooves and a thump but he couldn't tear his eyes from Ezra. Dragging himself up on stiff knees, thrusting his shoulders forward and bringing up his fists in an agony of helplessness, tears streaming down his cheeks unnoticed, he screamed out his lover's name.

There was a blur of motion as the outlaw leaned more deeply over his victim, and then he just seemed to keep on leaning, finally toppling stiff-legged into the water, over the top of the small conman's body. The outlaw's body bobbed back to the surface, floating face down, half-submerged like some newly fallen log.

Chris staggered back up to his feet unbelieving. "Ez? Ezra!" He shouted hoarsely, all that was left of his voice now, his throat raw from his wrenching scream a moment before. He was blinking away tears and fighting for balance as he half-walked, half-stumbled the remaining distance to where Ezra was rising gracefully to his feet. It wasn't until the two were within touching distance that Chris saw how hard his friend was shaking. "Aw, Ez." Lifting his hands up, he brought the bound hands down around his man and held them close, kissing gently at the sweaty, teary-eyed face. Neither seemed to notice their mingling salt-flavored tears as they nipped and nibbled at each other's face, seeking reassurance that each still lived, was whole.

Then Chris started and swung them around, "Shelby!"

Ezra leaned back against Chris' chest with a trembly laugh, "Ah think our trusty steeds have taken care of Mistah Shelby."

They could see the outlaw flat on the ground beneath Chaucer's prancing feet, a hoof occasionally bumping against the unconscious form. A shout and a gunshot interrupted their moment of relief, riding hard, one of the men that Shelby had sent scouting was riding back already, riding fast and evidently could see something of what had happened.

"Christ, we gotta get outta here! Now!" Chris yelled hoarsely, lifting his arms to free Ezra and then shoving him towards the horses.

"Chris, mah clothes, your gun!"

"No time, Ez, get up on Chaucer," and Chris was boosting the naked gambler on to the bareback of the chestnut, then clambering awkwardly onto his own Solon, still saddled. No time to try to reach the reins that dangled toward the ground, he kneed his long time mount and they were off, Solon running with head high and to the side to keep those damnable rein straps from catching under his hooves, Chaucer keening a horsey trumpet of sound that somehow seemed like a curse at those who might try to harm his man.

The man behind them pulled in his own mount to check on the gang members still at the campsite, loosing off three more shots that couldn't reach the distance to the fleeing men on horseback, disappearing over the rise of a hill into the grasslands below.

Both horses began to slow of their own accord when their men no longer pressed urgently at their sides, smooth stretching ground eating lopes chopping into trots and then walks. Chris had tried leaning forward several times to snatch the reins but with his hands still bound, each time he leaned forward he risked unseating himself. After those last three shots there'd been no further sign of pursuit and he figured who ever that was that showed up wasn't coming on by himself, so they had some time. A breather anyway.

He stifled a chuckle at the sight of Ezra on Chaucer. That had to hurt, but the little guy hadn't said a word. He was riding forward over the gelding's withers, mainly on his knees and shins, doing some kind of bounce with the movements of his mount, his hands fisted slightly higher up the withers, but not in the mane, just knuckling Chaucer's smooth shoulder muscles, tipped forward evidently for balance. It kept his delicate parts from pressing against the horse's hair and spine. Damn, bet it hurt before he rose up like that, we were traveling at quite a clip there for a while. Chris' grin grew a bit larger, he couldn't help it. Somehow, he would have pictured a nude Ezra bareback on a high-bred horse like Chaucer as a breathtakingly beautiful sight, two magnificent animals moving as one. But knowing what it probably felt like minimized the romantic aspects of the sight. Then there was the rear view. He had the most marvelous view just now of Ezra's twin balls, suspended in his sac, hanging down between taut thighs and swaying deliciously. Made Chris want to reach out and --

"Don't touch." Ezra's irritable voice was a sharp reprimand and Chris lost his grin. Ezra's next words were addressed to his horse, his voice moderating. "Chaucer, enough, kindly stop here." And, simple as you please, the ornery chestnut came to a quiet, well-mannered halt, standing perfectly still, ears swiveling and eyes rolling at Solon who ambled on for another few steps before stopping since his friend had.

"Now that, Ez, is showin' off."

"No, Chris, that is a well-educated horse." Ezra sat back very, very carefully on to the broader part of his gelding. With a deep breath and clenched teeth, he brought one leg up and over the withers and then slid over Chaucer's curved side, catching himself against his friend.

With a sigh, he looked up at Larabee, still mounted on Solon. "Here," he gathered the elusive leather reins trailing on the ground and fed them up on either side of the patient black's neck, flipping the ends to cross over the pommel. Chris grabbed two-handed at the horn and swung himself free and down to stand beside Ezra. Touching foreheads with the shorter man, he murmured, "Thanks."

"Um," without looking up, Ezra busied himself with the rawhide strips binding Chris' wrists, and they fell away in tatters.

"Ezra? What did you--?" Chris stared in puzzlement at his now free hands, then over at Standish's. His eyes widened. The man was holding a straight-edge shaving razor, with what looked like a thick coat of drying blood on it.

Ezra looked down at his hands and then the razor. Shrugging, he squatted and wiped the blade back and forth in the stiff grasses, then closed the blade against the folding handle. Standing again, but still without looking back up, he said in a very matter of fact way, "I slit the bastard's throat."

Chris gently put one knuckle under the lowered chin and pushed up until those speaking eyes met his. "Good. Woulda done it myself, if there'd been time." He let his hand drop to one broad shoulder and stroked down it. "Think I broke the other bastard's neck."

Ezra squinted up and away from Chris and over toward the two horses, now snatching mouthfuls of grass companionably. "Think they may have done in Mr. Shelby."

"Naw, from what I saw, he was knocked out but not dead."

"Oh, well."

Chris studied his friend in silence and then opened his arms. "Come here."

Ezra's eyes flew back to Larabee, took in the offered comfort and smiled, stepping inside the circle and lifting his own arms to link fingers behind the blonde's neck. His skin shivered lightly as Chris' arms closed around him, drawing him gently closer into a tender hug. They stood like that, just staring into each other's eyes for a bit. Ezra was the first to blink. "Things have changed, haven't they?"

"Yeah. That ok with you?"

"Yes, very much. And you?"

"Yes. Yes, Ezra, very ok."

Ezra looked down at himself and cringed. Not even on a con had he ever had to reduce himself to such a ghastly wardrobe. They'd only had Larabee's saddlebags to work with and his spare set of clothes was a bit too large - everywhere - for the gambler's size. Sleeves rolled up, jean pant legs rolled up, belt tightened an extra notch that Chris had to punch in with his boot knife, their only real weapon now, if you didn't count his razor.

His feet were encased in the real atrocities however. Chris had spare socks, but no footwear. Vin might have had some moccasins but not Chris. Where was that dusty tracker when you needed the man? Larabee had insisted that Ezra couldn't be left in stocking feet so he'd cut off the saddle bag flaps, and created some kind of primitive footwear, rather like an Indian sandal from what Ezra could figure, by cutting slits along the edges of the leather and lacing bits of rawhide through to tie the leather to Standish's feet. Being naked had not been nearly as offensive as appearing in this truly ugly footwear. On the other hand, Chris had labored just to make them for him, to protect his feet. Damn it, even that thought did not make them look any more attractive. Ezra sulked. And twitched, uncomfortably.

Perhaps the greatest offense was what he was forced to wear under those black jeans. With a sigh, he knew he couldn't complain. And, it had been rather nice while Chris was administering aid to the injured parts of his anatomy. Ezra smirked over at Larabee who was strolling slowly at his side, leading Solon. Chaucer was trailing amiably after Ezra without a lead, occasionally butting him in the back in some misplaced display of equine affection. Chris caught the smirk and raised an eyebrow.

Ezra's smirk became a small tight grin, his dimples flashing. We're getting nearly as good at this as he is with Vin. A pleasant warmth flowed through him and he couldn't help himself, he tossed his head back and laughed out loud. Larabee tipped his head and smiled at his lover, wondering why he was laughing but happy because Ezra was clearly happy. Didn't really need to know any more than that, he thought comfortably.

The gambler came to a stop and stepped closer to the gunman, boldly stealing a kiss on tiptoe. Chris kissed back and reached to hold, only to have his arms batted away. A devilish grin was the only explanation he received but he accepted it with equanimity. He was beginning to get the hang of 'playing' with Ezra and it was fun. Of course, now really wasn't the time to get too engrossed in each other, they were nearly defenseless, Ezra couldn't really ride comfortably now - Chris grimaced at this - and far from help. So far, their luck had held, and he figured that if the rest of that gang did chose to follow them, that they were gonna be a day behind. He hoped.

They had spent some time in a hidden gulch, with a barely trickling watercourse running down the center of the wide flood track. The horses had taken some water and he'd filled both canteens that he'd been carrying in his gear. They really were lucky that he'd not had time to take anything off Solon and no one else had either.

Tending to Ezra's latest injuries had been a real experience. Chris grinned in recollection, trying to subdue his smile without much luck. At the time, of course, he'd been sympathetic and had actually had trouble even looking at the man's genitalia. The skin was dark with abrading from the horsehair and collisions with Chaucer's spine, the color turning purplish blue and deep maroon already. Although raw looking and very sensitive to the touch, there was no blood for which Chris was thankful.

He'd had Ezra lie down on his bedroll, face down with legs spread as he 'doctored' as best he could. The only thing he had was horse liniment and he'd been afraid to use that, so he'd settled for smearing some lard on the skin, then swaddling it in a spare neckerchief. He'd torn up part of his thinner blanket and fashioned a kind of rough breechclout to hold the finer cotton against the injuries. The southerner had been stoically silent throughout the 'treatment' only resorting to taking repeated deep breaths at various times. The jeans they pulled up over all that bagged out a bit with all the cloth underneath, giving Ezra a slightly misleading rotund look. Chris choked on another giggle helplessly.

Ezra, still standing facing Chris, raised both eyebrows at the faraway look in Larabee's hazel eyes and the giggle. His gunslinger never giggled, for god's sake -- unless the godforsaken man was thinking about -- Ezra's eyes narrowed in suspicion and Chris suddenly found that his small moment of good humor was perhaps a bit out of place. Nipping Ezra's nose good-naturedly, and smiling in what he hoped was a beguiling fashion, Larabee stroked Ezra's cheek. Soft and smooth, probably shaved this morning just before I got there, 's why the razor was so handy. That brought back the reality of their situation and the blonde sighed.

"I'd like to keep on doing this but we need to put more space between us and them," he looked back over his shoulder briefly. "How about we ride again for a spell?"

When Ezra's face immediately assumed a rather pained air, he caught the man's chin and shook it gently. "You ride with me, I'll keep you from sitting too deeply in the saddle." At the doubtful look, he added, "We can make a pillow out of my bedroll."

They covered several miles more before evening made them begin searching for a concealed camp, settling on another dry gulch, with some low hanging cottonwoods for shade.

Chris insisted that Ezra sit out most of the preparation of the camp, just feed small wood to their fire to coax it into a warm little blaze, hidden deep in the gully, out of sight from the grasslands above.

They still hadn't said much to each other yet, not about anything important, like the rest of their lives, but Chris knew they would have to and this was likely the best time. Sinking down next to the southerner on their single remaining blanket, he quietly encircled the broad shoulders with one long arm, bringing the man closer to his side. Leaning his head down to rest on Ezra's shoulder, he said, "We really should talk."

"We really should talk." Ezra listened to the words repeat in his head. He was still trying to cope with all the changes that had occurred in his life in the last few days. Was it only about four or five days ago that he'd been sitting, keeping watch over a sleeping Larabee, their rendezvous nearly over, thinking about how much the man had grown to mean to him? Then there had been the inconvenient bank robbery attempt by none other than one of the Shelby offspring, Ezra frowned at that. He'd tried to do his part and been caught by the outlaws, held hostage for a few brief, heart-stopping moments, and then rescued by Chris and Vin. Something more had happened while his abused feet were recovering, he was sure of it, but he didn't know what. He only knew that Nathan's harsh words had nearly broken his heart, thinking he'd lost his place among the seven, and his private place at Chris' side. He'd fled the clinic and the town, intent on separating himself from such a painful and confusing situation. Only his instincts, undoubtedly the baser ones, had led him to 'flee' to one of their private spots, even if he really had tried to hide his tracks using the lava fields. Speaking of which--

"The lava fields. How did you--?"

"Vin." Chris felt Ezra stiffen against his side. Now what? "Ezra, I couldn't have tracked you on my own, you have to know that. I didn't tell him anything he hadn't already figured out."

"Which was?" Ezra wasn't at all sure that this was how he wanted their talk to go, but as usual, things seldom went the way he wanted when he was in the blonde's company.

Chris pulled at Ezra, turning him to face him and coaxing his legs up and over his own so he sat straddling Chris' lap. Faces only inches apart now, Chris spoke slowly and clearly, know how easily Ezra could misread his words, coloring them with unintended meaning.

"Vin caught me kissing you at Nate's place that night." The green eyes looking into his grew round. "Just said you were good for me." Chris placed a soft kiss on kissable lips and drew back to continue. "I agreed."

Chris leaned in and put another soft kiss on those moist lips that now had a tiny bit of pink tongue sticking out. "We really didn't discuss it any, though he asked me if I'd told you how I felt. Didn't really know myself until that night." This time he drew Ezra's body closer to him, so that their chests were pressed together. He rested his chin on Ezra's left shoulder and slid a hand up behind the southerner's head, fingers settling in the soft curls. "That night, Ez, I thought I was gonna lose you. Went a little crazy." He planted a small kiss under the nearby ear, then licked at the lobe and felt his partner shiver. "Said some things, right after -- well, didn't mean them, just was upset. Scared. Then, at the clinic, when Vin started talkin' to me." He nuzzled the sweet line of throat and licked the swell of the Adam's apple that bobbed beneath his tongue. Despite the physical distractions and reassurances he was trying to provide, he could tell that Ezra was listening intently, with his whole being.

"He told me we needed to get ourselves sorted out, settled, and that it would all work out." Chris hugged gently. "But I was still panicking. Kept thinking that somehow, it was all my fault, for caring too much." He felt Ezra try to pull back. "No." He held on firmly and kissed the stubborn jaw. "That was me, not thinking." He let his nose scrape along the roughing new beard growth just under the jawbone.

Whispered the next. "Went out to my shack to think. Bein' a great thinker 'n all," he continued with self-deprecating humor in his voice, "took me a few days to figure it out. Figure out that it stopped bein' nice and started being necessary some time ago." He paused again and tucked his chin in to look back up and meet those wide soft green eyes. "To figure out I loved you."

Chris stretched his neck forward and kissed those lips again, this time pushing in with his tongue, finding them parting easily for him as he swept within and laved the cavern, feeling two heart beats between them, echoing in his inner ear, a heavy thudding sound that seemed to deafen him to all thought. He could only feel now, feel Erza tight against him, Ezra's hands stroking his back, combing through his hair with rough driving strength, forcing them even closer together. It was almost two minutes before they parted, panting for breath.

"I rode back to town yesterday. Vin had come out, the second day, told me you'd be back on your feet soon, so I figured I'd take you back out with me, we could talk and get ourselves settled in our minds before we told the others."

Ezra, who'd been aching he was listening so hard, barely breathing for fear he'd miss a single word from his monosyllabic lover, jerked back, actually breaking Chris' hold on him for a moment before those strong arms wound themselves reassuringly tight back around him. "Tell the others?" He knew he must sound like an inane parrot, but he simply couldn't get past this latest obstacle.

Chris narrowed his eyes and studied the panic he could see in Ezra's. Oh, that went over well. "Vin already knows, Ez." He stopped, started again. "'Course, we need to agree to what we want to do. I'm getting a bit old to keep riding out and sleeping on the ground all the time." Shit, he could see that only confused the gambler. He tried again. "I mean, you got a perfectly good feather bed in town, and I can make a bigger bed out at the shack, for when we want to --" Lithe, slender fingers came up to press against his lips, cover his mouth. He gripped the wrist and pulled it to one side, puzzled. "Ez?"

"But we can't -- I mean the town won't -- the others -- I love you but --"

Chris had never heard Ezra stutter like this before. It was downright endearing. He captured that mouth in a word-suppressing kiss and waited. When he felt Ezra begin to relax against him again, he pulled back a bit and smiled into those worried green eyes. "Ezra, there, you just said it. You love me. I already told you. I finally figured it out for me, too. I love you. The rest of the world can damn well go hang."

"But --"

Chris silenced this newest objection with yet another smothering kiss. "Ez, I don't mean we gotta tell the whole town, I'm not a flamin' idiot, despite any rumors you mighta heard." He grinned, then tempered it into a loving smile. "But the rest of our friends, they got a right to know and I think we can trust them."

"Nathan." There was dread in the tone.

"You let me handle Jackson." Chris didn't mean to snap, but he still held some anger for the way the healer had mishandled the gambler's sensitive soul, with blunt ignorant words. Sighing, he added, "It'll be alright, you'll see."

Ezra sat there, on Chris' lap, in Chris' arms and thought about all that the blonde had said. He felt incredibly warm and grateful, with a burrowing sensation that needled with a stinging, bubbling feel along his nerves and that he greatly suspected just might be joy, a feeling he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before, certainly not like what was happening right now inside of him. His soul seemed to be melting and reforming in the fire of Chris' love. Forged into a new, stronger, more confident shape. Glowing, he let his head sink down onto one of Chris' strong shoulders and murmured into an attentive ear. "Thank you."

Ezra lay on his back staring up at the dimming vibrancy of the sky, trying very hard to ignore Chris. This wasn't all that easy since the blonde was gently removing his handiwork of earlier in the day. The temporarily discarded leather footwear and socks were neatly piled to one side, and the black jeans -- did the man own ANY other color? --were folded beside them.

"Just lift up a bit now." Chris' voice was neutral, quiet.

Ezra shifted his hips higher in the air with a soundless sigh and studied the weeds trimming the rim of the gully. He could feel the light breeze, warm and teasing now.

"Alright, now, spread your knees a bit more."

Taking in and holding a breath, Ezra did as he was told. Amazingly enough, he could not think of one amusing or ironic thing to say about their current activity. He tried to decide if the weeds were the flowering kind or if those were just thistles among them.

Chris pulled the clout free without much trouble, and took a moment to let out a breath he'd been holding. It won't be that bad. With fingers unused to such delicacy, he carefully picked at the dried, wrinkled neckerchief that resided at the place between the southerner's thighs. "Easy, now." He plucked it out, the soft, limp flesh within sticking briefly then pulling free. Ooh, that had to hurt. The penis itself didn't look too bad, just shrunk up tight, like a mushroom cap. It was the balls depending that were a sight. Swollen, and dark.

"Just gonna put some more grease on them, Ez. Hold still, I'll try not to make it hurt."

Ezra grunted and pretended he didn't own the lower portion of his body as Chris tended to his most recent, and embarrassing injury. Wouldn't Buck just have a field day with this! He actually wished for Nathan's competent and impersonal touch, it might be better than Chris -- no, not true. Chris would always be best. He smiled and ignored the soreness he felt as the softened lard was gently applied, his testicles lifted and separated a bit so the grease could be smeared evenly. It wasn't really that painful, more a heavy soreness, tenderness.

"Almost done."

Ezra nodded distractedly. That certainly did look like their infamous tracker's head hanging over the rim among the weeds and thistles. Upside down from where he stared upward. He blinked. The image didn't waver or disappear. The flaming colors that were starting to stain the sky lit the tracker's face and his small, amused smile. Mr. Tanner, Ezra thought vaguely, you have a lot to answer for. For one thing, where were you when I needed moccasins? Moccasins? "Moccasins?"

"What was that, Ez?" Chris looked up, surprised. So far the southerner had done almost no talking while he -- well, while he did it. Ezra was staring up over and back over at the top of the gulch, seemed to be looking at something. Sitting back on his heels, the gunslinger followed the line of sight of those raised green eyes.

Staring down at them was Vin Tanner, looking mighty pleased with himself. Then he spoke. "Always carry some."

What the hell did that mean? "Vin?" Chris squinted, hands resting on his own jean-clad thighs.

"Hey, cowboy. Be down in a minute." Then a second head joined Tanner's as Peso's long neck arched over the edge, white blazed horsey snout wrinkling. Tanner turned and muttered something that sounded like, "Back off, you mangy scrub hopper." And both heads disappeared.

Ezra lifted his head a bit to look down at Chris, kneeling between his raised knees. "Now would be an excellent time to finish your ministrations."

"Um, don't know about that, Ez, Vin might have some remedies for helping you."

Ezra was about to answer that he was just sore, for heaven's sake, he wasn't bleeding or anything, when the skitter of pebbles and the clop of Peso's hooves interrupted. Chris put his palms on Ezra's knees and rested them there as he watched Vin step down the rockslide path they'd used earlier, sure-footed and confident.

"Not interruptin' anything?" There was laughter in the tone and Ezra rolled his eyes at the smiling face of the tracker.

"No, Mr. Tanner, nothing of consequence. Mr. Larabee here is simply in the middle of 'having his way' with me." Standish spared a glare for his intimate companion. "Not too successfully at the moment, I might add."

"Rather you didn't, Ez." Chris leaned a bit harder on the knees and grinned. Turning his head to where Tanner was taking his saddle and gear off of Peso, back turned to them politely, he called. "Vin, wanta come take a look?"

Tanner turned, saddle gripped in his sun-darkened hands. "You're offering?" He looked a bit taken aback.

"Mistah Tanner!"

"Ez, be quiet." Chris grinned wider, "Naw, ain't sharing, but Ezra here is a bit on the damaged goods side at the moment, not sure if I'm doing the right thing for him."

Dropping his saddle, the Texan quirked an eyebrow and wandered over to squat down next to Larabee. He directed his gaze to where the blonde was once again looking. Ezra had chosen to clamp his lips shut tightly and stare skyward once more.

"Um, buffler balls."

"Oh for god's sake, speak plain English, Mr. Tanner!" came an impatient and clearly disgusted voice from the far end of the blanket.

"Vin?"

Enunciating slowly and clearly, Tanner repeated, "Buf-fa-lo Balls."

"And this scintillating bit of trivia is supposed to be of assistance?"

"Ezra, shut up." Chris shook his head and then looked back at Tanner at his side. "They do look a might bigger than normal," he admitted.

"Well," the Texan drawled, "You'd know that." He nodded at the greasy fingers that held Ezra's knees firmly apart. "Lard?"

"Yep, only thing I had that I thought might work. Got some horse liniment, too?"

"Oh my god."

"Ezra, shut up." Chris waited for Tanner's thoughts.

"Naw, liniment likely burn him a new asshole. Figger all he really needs is the one." Tanner nodded again at the greasy fingers. "Lard is good. Bear grease would be better but ain't got none."

"Really? Not found any 'bahrs' lately, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra's attempt at the Texan's drawl was ignored by both men.

"Just keep doin' what yore doin' -- the swellin' will come down in a few days."

Chris grunted and asked, "Can you wet the cloth for me?"

"Sure, cowboy."

"Oh, wonderful, now I have two angels of mercy."

"Ezra --"

"I know, I know. Shut up."

Chris grinned up at Tanner who had moistened the neckerchief and was handing it back to the blonde. "He's a bit cranky."

"Yep, I imagine. Saw what you and he did back there."

"Anyone following us?"

"Not yet anyways. Looked like two living, two dead from what I could see, and the living weren't moving all that well, leastwise one of them."

Chris nodded, his hands busy repositioning the soft cloth over the tender, swollen skin, then pulling up the clout and fastening it with the strand of rope.

"Nice job, cowboy." Vin handed over the jeans he spotted folded beside the two men.

Chris took the pants and eased one leg up into the air, slipping a pant leg up to the knee. There was silence from the other end of the blanket. He repeated the process with the other leg. "Ok, Ez, lift up again." As hips rose, he drew up the overlarge pants and fastened them shut. "All done."

Tanner who has quietly observed the actions of his friend and leader, spoke now. "Still got those mocs if you want 'em, Ez."

Standish pushed up with his elbows, then hands, to a sitting position facing the other two men and gazed down at the leather flaps that Chris had fashioned. "Yes, please, Mr. Tanner." As Vin rose and walked over to his saddlebags, Ezra looked Chris in the eye. "Thanks, Chris," he said softly.

Larabee leaned in for a kiss, figuring Vin had already seen this and that Ezra probably needed it. "You're welcome," he murmured against the soft lips that were smiling beneath his own.

When they parted, Vin was already smiling knowingly and squatting easily in front of them, a pair of worn looking animal skin moccasins in his hands.

Ezra gratefully took the offered footwear as Chris, without fuss, slipped the extra socks back over his feet. "Still need the socks, Ez, to protect that healing skin."

"Yes, of course." Before Ezra could do more, Chris had reached over and removed the moccasins from the gambler's hands and was fitting them to his feet, lacing them in place.

Tanner and Standish were nearly the same size, Tanner being only slightly taller. The moccasins fit well, only a bit larger than Ezra's small feet. Chris gathered up the leather flaps and rawhide strips that had been his only method of protecting Ezra's feet until now.

"Um, Mr. Larabee? What are you going to do with those?"

The blonde flashed a look up at the southerner. "Thought it was 'Chris'? And, you don't need these now, I was just gonna toss'em."

"Chris. I'd -- I'd like to keep them, please." Ezra was bright red suddenly, a flush traveling rapidly up his neckline to color his whole face.

Larabee looked down at the rough-cut leather bits in his hands. He gripped them crushingly tight in his own rough hands and felt his heart grow bigger. He looked up fondly at his conman. "Ezra, I'll just put them with our gear." He stood and smiled down at the southerner who was now watching fixedly as Vin added some beans to a pot by the fire. His smile growing into a grin, he turned away and went over to the mutilated saddlebags by his saddle. If he'd had any doubts, that simple request quelled them. His smile took on shit-eating proportions as he tucked the handcrafted items into a spare space in one saddlebag. He loves me for sure.

Pincer had fished Harkness' body out of the pool with difficulty, swearing as he slipped in himself. Shelby, nursing his head by the fire, ignored the aggravated sounds and continued to dab a damp cloth at the deep colored bruise on his forehead. Those two men had been nothing but grief, he shoulda shot the damn horse, and still no sign of Tern or his men. He had a feeling that if Pincer hadn't turned back at the lava fields he'd found so soon after leaving the camp, that Shelby himself would be joining Parnell's and Harkness' bodies beyond the tree line of the small spring-fed oasis.

Terry Pincer dusted off his hands and stood, arching his back, above the bodies of two men he'd been riding with the last few months. Musta been some ruckus to end up with both of'em dead. He shook his head at the slit throat and broken neck. Rather have a bullet myself.

Shelby and Pincer settled in for the night, neither saying much after Tice had finished describing what had happened earlier. Tomorrow should see the return of Garvey and Kelly, they'd have news. And the group would be large enough to head out. As for the cowboy and the other, well, no point in going after them. Likely as not, that cowboy would not want it nosed around what he'd been doing out here, so there wasn't much danger that they'd bring trouble back with them. 'Course, if he and his men ran into those two again, they'd need to have a little discussion. Shoot the damn horse, too.

"Way I see it, you two been headin' out too far northeast to reach much for a spell, we got to circle south if we're gonna get back to town."

"And the miscreants back at the spring?" Ezra stretched comfortably, not really caring too much now that Vin was here with his rifle and sawed-off sidearm.

Chris took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed it. "Probably just as glad as not to be rid of us. We can telegraph the towns around here once we get home. We'll do doubles on patrols for a while, make sure everyone knows what those fellows look like."

Vin looked up over his own cup of coffee. "That feller Baxter is still in the jail, don't expect the judge 'til the end of the week."

Chris nodded. Hank Baxter was the red-headed would-be bank robber who had survived the attempt at the Four Corner's bank the other night. Even as a new thought occurred, he heard Ezra voice it.

"He's part of the 'other' Shelby's gang." The southerner sat forward now more alertly. "If they had intended to meet up --" he left the sentence unfinished, clearly the other two men could see the possibilities.

Larabee flexed his gun hand in frustration. He missed the security of his gun at his side. He looked regretfully down at his empty holster. Well, he'd get a replacement tomorrow, until he could get his own back. Likely would, too, the way this was shaping up. "Doesn't really change anything for now. Still gotta be ready."

The fire snapped and threw off a spark into the night. The three horses stood in a row shifting softly, none tied down, just close to their men and the safety that a campfire represented.

Vin tossed his cup down beside the ring of stones of the campfire. "Gonna turn in. Don't think we need a watch here, ain't nobody gonna find us in this gulch tonight."

Chris nodded and stretched out his legs. They'd put together Peso's and Solon's saddle blankets to make rough bedding for him and Ezra, so they could use their remaining blanket for cover. He reached out a hand and hooked the southerner under one arm. "Come on, Ez, let's bed down."

Standish stiffened for a moment, casting a wary glance over at the tracker who was already rolling himself into his bedding with his back to the fire -- and them. Oh, well. Might as well get used to the idea that Vin knows, and doesn't seem to mind. Looking up into his blonde's hazel eyes, glowing with fatigue and firelight, he acquiesced, sliding over close and stretching out at the other's side.

Chris was pleased at how Ezra was taking the fact that Vin knew about them. He'd been afraid that the ever so polite conman would back off in front of the tracker, but he wasn't. Larabee turned on his side so that he faced the gambler, then pulled the smaller man close, coaxing him into a curl on his side. Spooning thus together, the two relaxed. Larabee tugged their blanket up and settled one arm over the southerner, snuggling them even closer, and closed his eyes, feeling contented as he hadn't in a very long time.

The ride back to Four Corners was slow, since two rode in one saddle and Vin kept drifting off to scout and check back trail, very aware that while not defenseless, they were not at their best. He'd left his short gun with Larabee and kept the long-range rifle in his scabbard.

They'd stopped twice during the day, switching the saddle and bridle to Chaucer, and later back to Solon, so as not to tire out one horse too much. Chaucer had behaved rather well, considering it wasn't his own gear and he had to put up with the man in black along with his own man. Solon had simply done what was asked.

Vin had rejoined them and was riding along side Chris and Ezra when they rode into town late in the afternoon. Chaucer was once more running free and following, at least until they reached the outskirts of the town at which point he broke free with a simple neigh and half-bucked, half-trotted toward the livery, almost as if he was showing off to Peso and Solon who ignored him nobly.

"Chris, if we could go up the back stairs to the saloon, I could slip in unnoticed and change into my own things."

Larabee looked thoughtfully down at the man in front of him. There had been a hopeful tone to the suggestion. He hated to do it, but he knew that if he let Ezra get into his own things again, he'd never get him anywhere near Nathan. And Chris wanted the healer to check his lover out, make sure that Vin was right and that no lasting damage had been done.

"Sorry, Ez, we're heading for the clinic." He could feel the stiffening of the small body in his arms and smiled a bit. "Vin? Go get Nathan, Ez and me are going up to the clinic. We'll wait for him there."

Tanner ducked his head once in acknowledgement and pulled Peso over toward the saloon to see if he was there.

"Chris!"

"Ezra, no arguments." He tilted the dark-haired head up so he could look into those moss-green eyes. "Please."

Ezra pouted but could deny Chris Larabee nothing when he asked like that. "But then, I need my own clothes. And a bath. And something to drink." The green eyes darkened. "By god, those ruffians still have my flask!"

Chris took advantage of their situation to hug Ezra, "We'll be getting it back." Then he was stepping down out of the saddle and helping Ezra dismount from his perch on the bedroll-padded front of the saddle. "Come on, I don't think this'll take too long."

Standish straightened his odd bits of clothing with as much dignity as he could muster and stalked past Larabee toward the foot of the clinic stairs. He had to walk with a slight waddle that didn't help much on the dignity, and made Chris decide to hover rather closer than he'd planned. He knew how important appearances were to the southerner. Maybe, once Nathan was done, he'd go over and bring back some of Ezra's clothes so the man could change before facing the town.

Kelly had arrived back first, riding in on a lathered mare and looking around in surprise. Garvey got back a short time after, but didn't have any news anywhere near as interesting as Kelly's. Kelly had found the small town of Four Corners, just east and south of them. He'd come across a well-used track and followed it into a road that ran into the town. Listening in the saloon that night, he'd heard enough to egg on one of the townies into boasting about the 'seven' and the bank robbery attempt. He'd perked up some at the mention of the name Shelby, one of the dead ones, the name of the gang's leader from what the townie had heard.

"He's dead." Tice frowned and drank from the flask he'd found among the folded clothing of the boy that had been with that cowboy. Likely the 'boy' weren't no boy at all, he figured. Well, might be a man, but he'd be a dead man when Tice found him again. "You say one of the men in Tern's gang is still alive?"

"Yep, name o' Hank Baxter." Kelly spooned up some beans and chewed thoughtfully. Now that he'd delivered the bad news, he continued. "From what I can tell, that town is protected by seven gunmen, but only four were around last night. They didn't look too tough. A preacher, a healer, some big-mouthed cowboy, and a kid-sheriff. We could take'em."

Pincer and Garvey glanced up from their own plates of grub and waited to see what Tice Shelby would say. "Only four there now?" He set down his coffee cup and fingered the silver flask. "They killed Tern. Now they're gonna pay. And we'll get Baxter out, he can help and we'll take the bank's money and then we'll go huntin' for the two that was waitin' here for us." He spat into the fire as if sealing a bargain.

Nathan wiped his hands on a rag and stood with his back to the room. He knew he should say something to Ezra about what had happened the last time they'd been in here together, but the words stuck in his throat. He'd only said what was true as he knew it. Even JD and Buck agreed when they'd heard him later in the saloon. But the way Chris had acted then, and now, well, it seemed he'd spoken out of turn. Still. He rubbed harder on his hands as if the remnants of the poultice paste he'd made were still stuck there. He could hear Ezra rustling around behind him, waiting for Chris to return with the gambler's own clothing.

Blinking and setting his mouth in a firm line, Nathan turned around. And raised both eyebrows in almost comical surprise. "What the hell you doin', Ezra?"

The gambler looked up innocently from where he sat, no, lay under the covers of the clinic's bed. A heap of discarded clothing littered the floor beside him. One white shoulder showed above the edge of the dark blanket that had been pulled up to the gambler's chin.

"Just waiting for my wardrobe to arrive, Mr. Jackson." The false bonhomie in the words grated at Nathan.

"So you just shucked outta them things and left'em lie there on the floor?" The healer shook his head.

"As soon as I am properly attired once more, sir, I shall tidy up here and remove those offending garments," Ezra tried to assure the dark healer, wondering now if he'd presumed too much.

"Whatever." Nathan sat hesitantly on the chair across from the bed and faced Ezra, feeling nine-tenths fool. He opened his mouth to finally speak his apology, clear the air when the door to the clinic burst open and two burly looking men shoved their way in, guns drawn. In utter shock, Jackson stared at the pair, unwilling to believe these unexpected visitors were witless enough to challenge the seven on their home ground.

"You best be putting them guns down now," he said, rising and putting himself between the men and his patient.

The taller of the two just pointed at Jackson and said, "He's the one they call the healer."

The second man, shorter and stockier, but still big, pushed forward and to the side. When Nathan swung to watch him, he saw a flash from the corner of his eye, at the same time he heard Ezra cry out a warning, "Nathan, watch out!" and then there was a sharp pain in his head and he felt nothing more.

Chris strode through the saloon's mid-afternoon shade, nodding to Vin so he'd know that Nate had been found in the clinic, then heading for the bar. "Inez, I need the key to Standish's room."

The dark-haired senorita did not comment, simply reached under the bar and brought up the key, depositing it in the outstretched hand. At Larabee's nod of thanks, she shrugged, "Da nada, senor."

Buck strolled into the saloon behind JD, the two were coming off their double shift at the jail, keeping each other company, now leaving it for Josiah as they came over for, as Buck said, some much needed refreshment. Spotting Vin, they grabbed beers from Inez at the bar, JD continuing directly to Vin's table as Buck paused to flirt with the brunette briefly. He didn't stay long, just keepin' his hand in, so to speak, then hurried over to join the others, anxious to hear what Tanner could tell about Chris and Ezra.

While Vin filled in the listening men, Chris started back down the stairs, his arms full. He had everything he thought Ezra would need. He flushed lightly, damn man wears more clothes than most women. But, he'd tried to make sure he had everything just the same. From boots to vest, from underclothing to dark cinnamon jacket and pinstriped trousers. He was actually looking forward to seeing Ezra in all his finery once more. He noticed Buck and JD sitting with Vin. Likely knew what had gone down now, leastways the general stuff. Enough to be careful and alert.

The back door of the saloon opened with a loud bang as it smashed back against a wall and Larabee, one foot still in the air on the first landing, stared in shock as two men stomped in, both waving around guns. One leapt behind the bar counter and seized Inez as she groped for the bar's shotgun, dragging her clear and keeping a gun to her neck. The other stepped in, bold as brass and let his gun move, snake-like, from face to face of the other patrons. "Out, all of you but you three." He gestured toward Vin's table.

Chris froze. No one had looked up yet. His hands were full, but dropping Ezra's things would only attract attention before he could get to the gun that Nathan had loaned him. He licked his lips and met Inez' eyes as she wiggled furiously in the grip of the first gunman. Something in her eyes flashed and she bit down on the offending arm across her neck. As the outlaw howled, Chris hastily retraced his steps as soundlessly as possible to the upper floor and far enough down the hall to be out of sight. Quietly he lowered the garments in his arms to the floor, then stood up and with back to the hallway wall, shuffled close to the end of the wall and beginning of the balcony. Listening.

"Well, I'll be double damned! It's that little catamite." Pincer grinned up at Kelly and reached down, gripping the blanket and tearing it out of Ezra's hands.

Ezra sat up and looked back grimly at the two leering men who stood over him. He seemed to find himself at a serious disadvantage, clothing-wise, whenever he met up with miscreants these days. Nathan lay unmoving on the floor and he only hoped the healer would be alright.

"You stay right where you are, pretty boy," the one man sneered, nodding to his companion who'd evidently come prepared because he pulled some short pieces of rope from one pocket of his long all-weather jacket and started tying the unconscious healer's hands behind him. As Ezra watched helplessly, Jackson's feet were likewise bound, and he was dragged out the back of the room, toward his own bedroom. In a moment, the second brigand had returned and joined the first, so that both once more towered over Ezra who glared back defiantly.

"So, what are we supposed to do with him?"

"We got the healer taken care of, the others are headed to the saloon. We still gotta get Baxter outta the jail."

"Yeah, so --?"

"Tie him up. We'll take him with us." Decision made, the first continued to hold his pistol toward Standish.

"Now wait just a minute!" Ezra started to climb up to his knees on the bed, angry and worried. The other man grabbed his arm and yanked it behind him roughly, grabbing for the second arm and starting to tie them together. "At least let me get dressed!"

"Looks to me like you're as dressed as I ever seen you, boy." The smirk on the face of the man facing Ezra was lascivious enough to make the conman shudder. This was likely to get rather unpleasant, rather soon, he decided.

"If you'll simply hear me out --"

Before he could finish, even though he wasn't altogether sure what it was he was going to say, the man grabbed up some of the balls of bandage from Nathan's cabinet and tossed them to the other. "Gag him."

And then Ezra's mouth was full of cloth and he could say no more.

Buck, Vin and JD were forced to put their guns on the table in front of them as one of the two men who had the drop on them held Inez at gun point. None of the three had looked up as Chris Larabee faded back up the stairs, though all were aware of him.

"Tice? There's more here than we was told." Garvey sounded a bit nervous as he held his gun on the trio at the table.

Tice Shelby, tiring of the feisty senorita's antics, let her drop to the floor and kicked her hard. "Damn woman." He watched her rub her leg and crawl away from him to huddle against the front of the bar. Looking up at the others, he studied their captives. "Figure that one there," he gestured to Tanner, "is one of the ones that wasn't in town when Kelly came through, the other two fit his descriptions."

JD tightened his lips, angry to realize that a spy had been in their midst the night before and targeted the protectors. These must be part of the men that Vin had talked about. He leaned forward to speak but Buck's shoulder hit his and as he glanced over at the tall mustached lawman, Wilmington shook his head minutely. JD sighed angrily but heeded the silent advice and didn't speak.

Tanner was relaxed, sitting back and watching the two men, noticing the dark bruise on the bigger man's forehead. That's him, the one that the horses got from what Ez and Chris said. He had to fight a smirk that wanted to cover his face. Knowing Chris was still armed and near, he waited, eyes flicking between the two gunmen in front of them.

Pincer had their blanket wrapped prisoner slung over one shoulder like a rolled rug as he clumped down the stairs following Kelly from the clinic. At the foot of the stairs, Jack Kelly waited for Pincer to catch his breath. "Ok, keep him still now, and we'll head for the jail."

The body chose that moment to wriggle fiercely and a loud, growling sound came from over Terry Pincer's shoulder. "Jest how am I supposed to do that?" Pincer sounded irritated as he shook his burden vigorously but to no avail.

"Watch." Kelly stepped back and raised his gun, bringing it down hard, butt first on the half-raised lump of blanket hanging down Pincer's back. There was a grunt and the blanket went limp. "Now, come on."

The two men and their burden crept down the back ally by the clinic stairs and Kelly led the way to the back of the jail. Outside the adobe building, he signaled for Pincer to drop their prisoner. Gratefully, the other man did just that, dumping the blanket wrapped burden to the ground against the back of the jail. Two pieces of rope held the blanket wrapped tight around their unconscious prisoner, a discarded old hitching rail prevented the body from rolling back into the alley.

Chris decided a little diversion would help. Reaching down, he picked up one of Ezra's boots and hefted it in his free hand. Going down into a crouch, he turned away from the upstairs wall and eyed the scene below from between balcony struts. Inez was no longer being held so that made it much easier. Vin, Buck, and JD sat at their table still, their guns in front of them on the far side of the table but not impossibly far from their reach. This was almost too easy. He threw the boot.

Shelby and Garvey spun to face the new challenge from the direction of the front of the saloon, unable to see what had made the loud clatter. As if realizing their mistake, both twisted back and started firing. JD ducked beneath the table and leaned out on one side to fire back blindly. Buck rolled away from the table and sprung across the distance to the bar, putting himself over the barmaid to cover her from the gunfire, shooting off a few quick shots as he went. Vin had simply stood and begun firing, barely noticing as one bullet whizzed by his ear and another nipped at the wide collar of his buffalo hide jacket.

Larabee charged down the stairs, shooting to distract their attackers, give his men a chance to find cover. The exchange of shots lasted several more seconds before one of the men fell back and lay still on the sawdust-covered floor. The second man, who Chris recognized as the Shelby from the spring, edged closer to the doors. "Give it up." Chris' voice was flat. "You're all alone now."

"Naw, just looks that way," came the response as the other man took a running leap and dove out the front doors. All four of the protectors cursed and ran forward to follow. JD was first at the door and smacked the top edge of one of the batwings in frustration. The street was empty.

Buck shrugged and went back inside to help Inez to her feet, supporting her in a far more gentlemanly fashion than she had expected. She eyed him speculatively as he helped her stand, his eyes still on his friends who were looking down at the dead man at their feet.

Vin handed JD back his second Colt. He cocked an eyebrow at Larabee, they both had recognized Shelby. Chris nodded agreement. There were still at least two more men that he knew about, so that made likely three on the loose. Then there was the one in jail. "Shit! Josiah!"

Buck came up to the others, looking worried and joined them as Chris said, "He musta heard the shooting. He should be here by now." Then, as if that sparked another thought, "And Nathan, too." The men looked at each other.

"Vin, you and Buck come with me, we'll head for the jail. JD, check on Nathan." The blonde fought his instincts to go to the clinic, make sure that Ezra was safe.

"Chris --" The young sheriff could see another adventure going on without him.

"JD." The tone alone should have been warning enough, Chris was angry and worried and didn't have time to play nursemaid to their youngest.

Knowing Larabee, Wilmington intervened before things got mean, he put a restraining hand on his 'little brother's' shoulder. "JD, Nate and Ez are both up there, we need you to make sure they are alright."

Flushing, Dunne nodded silently and shrugged off the comforting hand. With a quick dodge out the door, he was off and running for the clinic. The others went out the swinging doors right behind him, running low and heading for the jail.

Josiah sat up abruptly. That was gunfire. Muffled, so inside somewhere. He pulled his long gun from his holster and stood, casting a quick look at their subdued prisoner. The redhead sat staring back at him in wide-eyed silence. No trouble here. Sanchez shoved his desk chair back and came around the desk, heading for the door, hearing more shots as he picked up speed.

Kelly and Pincer had left their bundled prisoner behind the jail and were now on either side of the door to the jail, reaching positions just as a huge man came out, holding a gun and looking across the street to where they, too, could hear shooting. Pincer yelled and as Josiah swung to face him, Kelly crashed his gun barrel on the big man's head. Staggering to his knees, Josiah tried to fire, but someone had grabbed his gun hand and was wrestling his weapon away.

"Get inside!" Running toward them was Shelby looking angry. He turned and let off a shot toward the saloon. Shoving the unconscious form of Sanchez to one side the two men bolted for the dark interior of the jail. Shelby, though, paused at the door and looked down at Sanchez with calculation. He dragged the man's body on its side across the doorway and crouched down behind his human barricade, resting his gun barrel on one tall shoulder.

Pincer slid to a stop inside the jail, spotted the key ring hanging from a post and snatched it. "You Hank Baxter?" he asked the man rising to his feet within the nearest cell.

"Yeah."

"We're with Tice Shelby, Tern's cousin. Heard about what happened." Pincer was twisting the key in the cell door lock as he spoke, then pulled the door open with a jerk. "You coming?"

Baxter took a deep breath and nodded. If he stayed put, sooner or later his name would be linked to some of the killings Tern's gang had left behind in a path of destruction across the Territories. He had nothing to lose. Coming out of the cell, he ran for the desk and hunted for his gun and holster, finding them in a large lower drawer. "What should I call you?" he asked as he buckled his gun belt.

"I'm Pincer, that's Kelly by the window," Terry Pincer nodded and then faced the front of the jail, "and that's Tern's cousin, Tice at the door."

Shelby was backing up on his heels, edging deeper into the building. "There another way out of here?"

Kelly looked back from his post at the window, "I'll check." He ducked in the back and returned quickly, "Yeah, there's a back door. I looked out, it looks clear right now."

"Let's go then," Tice stood and strode over to the locked gun case, smashing the lock with his gun. He pulled a rifle free and returned to the front door, leaning the barrel forward and through the space between Sanchez' torso and upper arm. He made sure it looked like it was aiming across the street. He fired once more toward the saloon, feeling the body jerk beside him at the percussion. Ducking back he ran out, following his men and the new man out the back way.

As Tice appeared at the back door he found the other three hesitating, "What's going on? We gotta get outta here, head for the horses."

Kelly spoke quickly, "Wait. We got us another prisoner." He pointed to the lifeless looking shape trussed in a blanket against the back wall.

"Who the hell is that?" Shelby didn't have time for games.

"That little catamite, found him up in the healer's place. Thought you wanted a word with him." Pincer grinned.

Tice Shelby flashed a look of pure anger at his two bumbling idiots. Of course they didn't know yet that four gunmen would be here any moment and his little tactic at the door was unlikely to keep them back for long. "Fuck." He lifted his gun and shot twice, the sound of the bullets hitting the blanketed form like dull thumps. "Let's go!" The others raced after him without looking back to see red stains begin to grow, darkening the already dark blanket.

With a precision built from experience and trust, the three men split apart the moment they breached the doors of the saloon, ducking low and heading in a fanned out formation for the jail. Chris, by right and choice, drove straight ahead. One of his men was probably in trouble. Buck was off to his right, Vin to his left. Both shadowed his moves without thought. Chris ducked as a wild rifle shot came from the front of the jail and dove to the rutted surface of the street. Buck and Vin, off to the sides sought out cover in building fronts to either side of the adobe building. All three held their fire as they saw Josiah's body lying across the front of the jail door. The barrel of a rifle protruded from under his arm, aimed generally toward the saloon.

Chris studied the rifle. There was no movement. He slowly brought his feet up under him and pushed up to stand, tense, ready to dive again. Two more shots rang out, but they were from behind the jail and if they'd been aimed this way, he couldn't see where they'd hit. To hell with it, he started forward, stalking at first, and when no more shots were fired, his pace picking up rapidly to a dead run until he stood over Sanchez. The rifle was unmanned, just stuck there like a decoy. Cursing, he stepped over the preacher's body, not daring to look down again until he was sure the jail was clear. Peering into the gloom, he saw the jail cell door open and the broken gun rack lock hanging down from the front of the case. With a hop over Josiah, he strode inside the small jail and towards the back, gun up, senses alert. Behind him he could hear Vin and Buck arriving, Buck telling Vin to take care of the preacher, he'd back Chris.

Larabee passed through the empty building. Standing at the rear door, he looked up and down the sides of the building, out toward the empty, dusty landscape that defied vegetation of any cultivated sort. Nothing. No one. Turning, he hurried back in to meet up with Buck at the cells. "Gone." He led the way back to where Vin was easing a waking Josiah to a sitting position.

"How is he?"

"Got a hard head," Tanner answered, touching gently at the bleeding crease on Sanchez skull, over one temple and ear.

Chris squatted down in front of the preacher, could see that the man was having trouble focusing. "Josiah? What happened?"

Sanchez blinked hard, shook his head and clutched at Vin's arm, currently holding up his shirtfront. He swallowed and spoke slowly. "Were two of them. I heard some shots from across the street, maybe the saloon?" He looked up for confirmation and got a nod. "I came out to see if help was needed. Heard something to one side, when I looked," he touched his head gingerly, accepting a handkerchief from Vin with a nod and putting it up to the bloody surface of his skull, "When I looked," he continued, "got hit from the other side, only reason I know there were two. Didn't see'em." He leaned back against the doorjamb. "Sorry."

"Not your fault." Chris stood. Looked over toward the clinic. JD should have been back by now if everything was alright over there. Hadn't heard any shots, but --

"We can stay here with the preacher until he can make it to his feet," Vin said quietly from his place kneeling beside the big man. "If you want to go look."

Buck looked back and forth between Vin and Chris, puzzled for a moment, then suddenly it hit him that JD hadn't returned yet. "Damn, where is that kid?" He yelled and took a leaping start over the top of Sanchez, by pushing off of Chris' shoulder. Larabee staggered back and then pursed his lips and took a deep, lung-filling breath. All he wanted was to be sure Ezra was alright. It didn't seem fair that he couldn't show the same concern for his lover that Buck showed for their youngest friend. He checked down with Vin who just nodded and said, "Go."

With that, Larabee was off racing after Wilmington. They both slowed as they neared the clinic to see JD shuffling out the door on to the wide porch balcony, with the much taller Nathan Jackson sagging against him. The two men stopped and looked down when JD spotted their friends' approach. "Chris, Nate's ok, just got slugged on the head and tied up in the back."

Ezra? What about Ezra? Chris forced himself not to scream out his fear. Taking a moment to study the two men swaying up there. "Nate? Is Ezra ok?"

Jackson grabbed the balcony railing for support to steady wobbly legs and stared down at Larabee and Wilmington. JD still clung to his arm. "Gone." He cleared his throat and called more loudly, ignoring the pain this brought to his head. "He's gone. He followed or they took him after they hit me. I didn't see."

"JD?" Buck spoke up now, worried for the missing gambler. His friend.

"Sorry, no sign of him, though his clothes seem to be on the floor inside and the bed's messed up some." He didn't realize how intently the other two were hanging on his words as he added, "Didn't see no blood or nothing."

Chris blinked stars away from his eyes, this can't be happening, not again. A wave of sheer panic enveloped him and he felt as helpless as when he'd found the reeking, smoking shell of his ranch house with his wife and child dead and burnt within. Buck grabbed at him as he staggered sideways, losing his balance. "Easy there, Pard, you hit?"

The words and the familiar voice anchored him. Panting, he bent his head to think. "Pard?" Buck's voice again. Oh, right, he hadn't answered him. "Buck, go help JD take Nathan back inside. I'm going to go back and help Vin get Josiah up there too. Then we'll see if Vin can pick up a trail."

Buck watched his long time friend cautiously. Something goin' on here. Not certain what it was, but ain't seen him act this way in a real long time. "Sure, Pard." He waited to make sure that Larabee was steady on his feet before turning back to the clinic and starting up the stairs.

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