Evening Primrose

by Vicki James and Kath Tate

Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven and characters belong to MGM and Trilogy Entertainment. This story does not intend to infringe on that copyright.

*****

A warm wind stirred up the dust on the main road running through Four Corners. The town was otherwise quiet that late into the evening. The only conspicuous activity came from within the saloon where light and smoke and music spilled out beyond the batwing doors. Now and then those doors were flung open as a patron stumbled out to weave his way home.

The only other sign of life was two people down the street a ways, removed from the noise and bustle of the saloon. The couple stood together just outside the building housing The Clarion newspaper office.

Mary Travis was standing at the edge of the boardwalk. Her pale yellow hair was pinned up for once, more likely in deference to the heat of the preceding day rather than to any dictates of fashion. She pushed back at an escaped tendril that the breeze had set dancing against her cheek and her eyes shone with pleasure as she smiled fondly at the man before her.

With one boot on the road and one planted on the boardwalk, Chris Larabee stood leaning toward Mary. He had abandoned his coat much earlier in the day and was decked out in a blue and white striped shirt rather than his more customary black. His hat was held loosely in his hand and his forearm rested on his bent knee. The hat bounced slightly in his grip as he laughed with Mary at a shared and private joke.

To a stranger they would appear to be nothing as much as a couple busy at courting. They looked that way to the figure who remained hidden in the black depths of the alley across the street, observing them with intensity.

When Chris captured Mary's hand in his own and held on to it briefly, the figure turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night, noticed by none in town, fortunately, as that person was not a stranger.

*****

Chris Larabee stepped out of the telegraph office and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the harsh autumn sunlight. In his fist he clenched the remains of the latest message, its paper crinkling under the taut muscles of his hand. Damn but it had been a trying week!

It had started out peacefully enough, but if Chris had learned anything from his time as a peacekeeper in Four Corners it was that when things were at their quietest it was best to prepare for trouble. Trouble had come this week in the form of a roving gang of bandits intent on preying on those unfortunate enough to be in their path. Their attacks had no rhyme or reason to them. The more Chris learned of them the more he suspected it was an exercise in sport rather than profit for the thieves.

Reports had come in from different quarters as to the whereabouts of these lowlife scum and so Chris had split up his team to cover more ground. JD and Buck had gone north, Nathan and Josiah to the southwest, and he and Vin to the southeast.

Ezra had remained in Four Corners. He'd been none too happy about being left with the responsibility of the town to interfere with his life. Yet even that was preferable to being forced to take to the trail and "suffer the indignity of reposing oneself on that granite masquerading as the ground." Chris smiled grimly at the thought of Ezra's expression of distaste for the outdoors. He idly wondered what Ezra's expression had been when the bandits the others were seeking rode into Four Corners with only the gambler as a line of defense against total anarchy.

Chris wasn't too sure what had happened then. Ezra was being surprisingly close mouthed about the details of the situation that led to three warm bodies now occupying the bunks in the jail and two cold ones in the keeping of the undertaker. Unfortunately, that still left at least seven unaccounted for when Vin and Chris had returned that morning. The other peacekeepers weren't back yet.

The telegram Chris had just received was from Josiah, explaining that he and Nathan were going to be unavoidably detained. If that wasn't bad enough, they'd also found no sign of their quarry.

'Of course not!' thought Chris with disgust. 'The bastards walked right through the front door and we may as well have issued them invitations.'

Chris made his way towards the livery to see if Vin was there. He wasn't sure at this point if they would do better to stick close to the town, or seek out the desperadoes. Chris was inclined to go on the hunt; he always preferred action to reaction. However, that strategy had been less than profitable so far and had put the town at risk. Ezra would not be so willing to be left behind this time, the lack of a feather bed on the trail notwithstanding. Never mind that the con artist had more than risen to the occasion against unlikely odds, he'd been given a serious fright. Even Chris, who'd never taken much time trying to figure Ezra out, could see that.

So maybe they'd be better off staying close to the people they'd been hired to protect. A defensive maneuver that was familiar, if unsatisfying.

Vin wasn't at the livery, Chris could tell that even before he was distracted momentarily by the sight of Mary Travis talking with Yosemite. He hesitated and cursed to himself. If he turned back now and walked away it would be obvious he was avoiding her. And that's exactly what he was trying to do, he realized. In his indecision on whether to proceed or retreat - a mocking parallel to his larger problem - he appeared to hover just near the stable's double doors.

Mary. Damn! If the bandits were the trouble that visited Four Corners that week, then Mary Travis was trouble with a capital T visiting Chris Larabee. He couldn't deny his growing fondness for...no, damn it, his attraction to the newspaper woman. Her stubborn nature and determination were a match for his own. He admired her as much for her intelligence and spirit as for her beautiful features and silken, golden hair. Hair that he'd run his fingers through just before brushing them lightly across her cheek, bending slightly to bring his lips to...

"Hell!" Chris swore softly.

What the hell had he been thinking trying to kiss her like that? What had gotten into him to make him feel this way?

She'd been expressing some concern for his safety, and Vin's, and the others', before they'd left earlier in the week. Chris had been overwhelmed suddenly with the desire to sweep her up into his arms in a comforting embrace to ease her fears. Which was totally ludicrous, Chris told himself now, since there wasn't anyone in town LESS in need of coddling than Mary Travis! With the possible exception of Chris Larabee himself.

Unable to stop this urge entirely, Chris had found himself caught in a display of affection towards Mary that should have been comforting. It should have brought peace to both of them. It should have been a moment of joy to cherish. Certainly there were precious few of those. Yet instead it became a barbed thorn between them to the point where now Chris was hesitant to even make his presence known to Mary. Because at the last second, just as their lips lightly touched, Chris had pulled away abruptly, letting go of Mary so suddenly she'd stumbled slightly.

Then Chris had left without another word. No explanation for his boorish behaviour or cowardly retreat. No calming reassurance that everything would be fine and that they would all return healthy, or at least more or less whole. Not even any last minute advice. He'd simply turned and walked away.

Now, just looking at her hurt. Because he knew he'd hurt her, no matter how much she kept a cold expression on her face. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do on this earth was to cause her grief and yet he'd done just that.

Chris wished he could go back to the beginning of the week and change his strategy on so many things. Then he'd have kept all the boys close to home and he'd have followed through with that kiss. And maybe there might have been another one after that first one.

Chris's thoughts were interrupted by his brain finally registering the reason why Mary was in the livery. She was hiring a horse.

"Going somewhere?" he asked as she swept past him into the street. He forgot momentarily about the fact that he was avoiding her.

Mary's posture told him she'd rather not be conversing with him but Chris had never backed down from a confrontation with Mary. He wasn't about to do so now - especially now.

"Actually, yes," she said curtly.

When no other information was forthcoming Chris drew his brows together with frustration. "Mind telling me where?"

"Not that it is any of your business, but I'm going to Miller's Creek to visit a friend." Mary's tone was frosty and she kept her eyes straight ahead as she walked back towards the Clarion office. She couldn't outmatch Chris's stride - his legs were longer than hers - so she didn't try, even though she was annoyed by his continued presence by her side.

"What friend?" Chris was surprised. "Why Miller's Creek?"

Mary pivoted, with her hands on her hips and her chin held high in a familiar determined pose.

"Miller's Creek because that's where she lives," she told him.

Chris didn't appreciate the tone, which added "you idiot!" on the end of her statement. He glared at her. Damn it, he knew he was a fool, he didn't need another opinion on that!

"And she's a fellow newspaper editor," continued Mary. "We've been corresponding for several months now."

"You can't go," Chris said flatly. He realized his mistake even as the words left his mouth and he winced, hearing himself.

Mary's eyebrows flew up with surprise and if possible she looked even more annoyed than a few minutes previous. "I don't recall needing your permission to do anything, Mr. Larabee!" she snapped and started walking again.

Chris reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. He wished they weren't standing in the middle of the street. It was bad enough, the gossip in this town, without fueling it by the pair of them arguing in front of everyone. There was no doubt in Chris's mind that an argument was imminent.

"Mary!"

She pulled out of his grasp, her eyes flashing, almost daring him to try to touch her again. His hands fell to his sides.

"Mary." He kept his voice low. "I really don't think it's a good idea. We've got a nasty band of thieves on the loose here and it's not safe for you to..."

"I'd say it's about as safe as staying at home," Mary said with a harsh laugh that wasn't amused. She added with a low tone, "I guess this advice you're so freely giving me doesn't really apply to you though, does it?"

Chris didn't truly believe that Mary was willing to take such a risk with her safety just to get back at him. Exactly what she was angry about he couldn't be entirely certain. Was it the kiss? Or was it that he'd left the town with only one man to protect it?

"This is serious," he told her sternly.

"I thought I'd made it clear to you, on more than one occasion, that I will not be made a victim. I am not going to live my life in fear. I have made arrangements to meet with my friend and that is what I'm going to do." That said, Mary tried once again to continue her path to her office. This time Chris stepped in front of her to stop her.

"Why not wait until the others get back? Buck and JD were in the Miller's Creek area. They'll know if it's safe."

"I will, of course, appreciate their thoughts on the matter, as long as they provide them before I leave tomorrow morning."

"I don't know when they'll be back," Chris admitted.

Mary shrugged.

Part of Chris wanted nothing more than to tell her he wouldn't let her go. But a stronger part of him realized the futility of such an absurd statement. He modified it somewhat. "I don't think you should go."

"Thank you for your concern. I'm sure it's unwarranted," she said icily.

Chris recoiled a little. He felt almost like she'd slapped him. Had her opinion of his judgement fallen so low then? The last time they'd been so far apart on an issue was when she'd just used his reputation to scare away the bad element.

"Mary!" His voice was clipped. He'd never been very good at hiding his annoyance. "At least wait until the others return and I'll go with you. I don't think you should be alone on the trail!"

When she didn't respond right away to this plea, as irritated as it had been delivered, he snapped, "Why do you have to be so god-damned mule headed all the time? Can't you, for once, take my advice instead of rushing into danger?"

Now it was Mary's turn to pull back as though struck. She was hurt, she was angry, she was all the more determined. 'Plain as the nose on your face, Larabee, you idiot!' Chris berated himself.

It was hard to say what fireworks might have erupted, and in plain view of all who happened to be walking by, if Vin Tanner hadn't chosen that moment to exit the general store. A few packages in hand, he nodded to the pair, bringing two fingers up to his hat.

"Afternoon ma'am, Chris."

Chris didn't even turn in his direction, but Mary smiled brightly at him. Vin felt instinctively like retreating into the store would be a good idea. Mary looked from Vin to Chris and back again.

"Fine," she said shortly to Chris, although her eyes held Vin's. "I won't go alone then. Vin, would you be so kind as to escort me on a trip to Miller's Creek?"

Vin doubted he could refuse this woman anything she asked of him. He could spend a lifetime doing for her and never come close to repaying her for his ability to write his own name. Yet, he wished he could see Larabee's eyes right now, because he sensed he'd walked into a situation that was more than it seemed. Chris was looking down the street though, away from Vin. His tense body language reminded Vin of a snake about to strike.

"I'm happy to help you, Mary," he said slowly. He was about to ask Chris if he thought it was safe up that way, since as far as Vin knew there'd been no word from Buck or JD. However, before the words came out Chris turned back to them with a wide smile that didn't reach his hard eyes and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"Do as you like," he said. Then he pivoted abruptly and strode away, spurs jingling harshly with his angry pace.

Vin turned a bewildered look on Mary, who was watching Chris's departure with unconcealed frustration.

"Thank you, Vin," she said quietly. "Let's leave in the morning."

Vin nodded, but she didn't see it. She left him wondering what had just happened and what had he gotten himself into.

*****

Burkette's Oasis always seemed to Vin a rather high an' mighty name for a place that couldn't boast more than a handful of buildings. Aside from a few houses, the community had just two public buildings: the hotel that served as a rest stop and junction for the stagecoach, and a supply depot that carried goods for a few isolated ranches and farms in the outlying areas.

The sun still rode high, although to the west, when Mary and Vin reined their horses in outside of the hotel. They would spend the night there, as Miller's Creek was still a good half day's ride away and could not be reached before nightfall.

With the grace of one no stranger to long days in the saddle, Vin swung down from his horse and stepped over to Mary to offer her assistance in dismounting. Mary was envious of the fluidity in Vin's movements; she knew she would feel her body protesting so many hours on horseback later that night.

When Mary's boots were firmly planted on the hard ground, which was sun baked and cracking due to the unusually dry autumn, Vin released the hold he'd had about her waist. Mary smiled up at him in thanks and Vin touched a finger to the brim of his hat in acknowledgement.

"Why don't you go get us our rooms while I see to the horses," Vin suggested.

Mary agreed and made her way up wide wooden steps leading to a door that boasted a stained glass window coloured in all the vibrant shades of the rainbow. The hotel's lobby continued to feign opulence, but in reality the window coverings and furnishings showed their age and had taken a turn toward shabbiness. Still, the hotel was respectable enough to give a weary traveller a night's respite from the trail.

The gentleman behind the front desk, whom Mary recognized from a few previous journeys through the town, nodded to her in greeting as she approached.

"Good afternoon," Mary smiled. "I'd like two rooms for the night, please."

"I'm sorry ma'am." The gentleman shook his head. "We're full up. The westbound stage was late today so those wanting to travel on south are having to overnight and wait until tomorrow for the southbound stage."

"I see," Mary replied, a bit disconcerted by the news. There was certainly no alternate accommodation to be had in the vicinity. "Well..." There was nothing that could be done about it. "Thank you anyway."

The man bowed his head to her and then sat down again in front of a ledger he had been writing in. Mary turned back to the door.

Though it galled her to admit it, she was now very grateful to Chris for insisting she not travel to Miller's Creek on her own. As independent as she was, Mary still understood that spending the night on the trail alone would be a very dangerous thing for a woman to do. Since that looked to be where she'd find her bed that night she was thankful to have Vin accompanying her. She left the hotel to find him and tell him the news.

He was still watering the horses in a trough just outside and Mary hurried over to him.

"The hotel's full up with stagecoach passengers," she explained. "They don't have any rooms available."

Vin appeared concerned. "For sure? Maybe you should go back an' ask if they can find a room jus' for you. I can always bunk down somewhere outside."

"It's all right." Mary waved the suggestion away. "I say we keep riding. We've got several hours of daylight left to put us that much closer to Miller's Creek. If we continue on now and spend the night on the trail then you could probably get back to Four Corners by tomorrow night instead of the day after."

"That'd be fine by me, but will you be okay sleeping out on the ground under the stars, Mary?" Vin asked considerately.

Mary grinned at him. "I’m a frontierswoman." She put her hand to a bundle tied to the back of her saddle. "I've got a bedroll right here, and I've used it a time or two before."

Returning her smile, Vin patted the nose of his horse. "Well, these fellows have had their fill to drink, so if you're ready, then let's head back out."

*****

The sun had nearly set when Vin led Mary off the trail and to the bank of a stream somewhat sheltered from the roadway by a grove of juniper trees. Vin saw to the horses while Mary gathered up wood for a fire. After such a long day in the saddle, she was glad to have the opportunity to stretch and ease her stiffened muscles.

Mary had a respectable fire burning steadily, and the first stars had appeared in the evening sky, by the time Vin had finished watering and hobbling the horses for the night.

He joined her by the fire, spreading out his bedroll on the ground and then lowering himself down, legs stretched out in front of him, back leaning against his saddle. Mary offered him one of the sandwiches left over from their lunch and he accepted it with gratitude. She was glad to have made extras for their journey.

Mary perched on a thick tree trunk that lay on the ground, which appeared to have been felled at some point by lightening.

Gazing up at the stars as he munched his sandwich, Vin noted, "It looks like we'll have a good night for sleepin' outside, anyways. Sorry we couldn't get you a room at the hotel."

"It's all right," Mary responded. "I'm just thankful you were with me. I don't know what I would have done if I had been travelling alone."

"I don't reckon Chris would have let you come alone," said Vin offhandedly.

"Chris has no say in what I do!" Mary snapped. Her tone was so vehement Vin turned his head to look at her sharply.

"I jus' meant that Chris would look out for you. He wouldn't want anything to happen to you." Vin tried to make his words soothing.

"No more than he wouldn't want anything to happen to anyone else in town," Mary declared, standing suddenly. She brushed out her skirts. "Now you'll have to excuse me for a moment." Mary began marching away from the fire, into the now blackness of the night.

Vin made to stand as well. "Shouldn't go wanderin' in the dark by yourself now, Mary. Let me go with you."

Mary stopped, but she didn't turn around. Her back was poker straight and her fists were clenched at her sides. For all the fury in her posture, though, her voice was small. "I, um, have a personal need to attend to."

"Oh," Vin said. "Oh. Well, well you go right ahead. I'll be right here. Jus', jus' yell if you need me."

'Shit,' he thought, sinking back down from his knees as Mary walked away. 'Stupid thing to say.'

'Why the hell ain't you here, Chris?' Vin continued to ruminate on the situation. 'What'd you do to get Mary so flame-spittin' angry at you? It should be you out here with her, not me.'

Vin knew he could never tire of Mary's company. He just felt a bit awkward at spending so much time, in such a private place, with her. In a little while they'd lie down to sleep only a few feet away from each other. Vin would watch Mary lie down on her bedroll, her curves silhouetted against the darkness of the night, the firelight catching the gold in her hair. He'd watch her eyelashes close against her cream coloured skin and see her breathing come softly between rosy pink lips. He'd watch her, from a distance so close, yet a gulf so far away.

'Dammit, Chris. You should be the one here.'

Mary returned, seemingly regained of her peaceful composure. She sat down on her bedroll, which was in front of the fire laid out at a right angle to Vin's. Digging in her saddlebag she pulled out what Vin could see was a thin book of some kind.

"I thought perhaps you might like to do a bit of reading before we go to sleep," Mary suggested. "It's been a while since we had our last reading lesson."

"Sounds good," Vin agreed, welcoming the distraction from where his thoughts had been leading him.

He accepted the leather bound volume that Mary handed to him. "The Collected Works of Lord Byron, poet," Vin read, slowly but precisely, from the cover. "Where should I start?"

"Anywhere." Mary waved him on. "You pick."

Vin opened to a page at random, and began to read.

"When we two parted, in silence and tears. Half broken hearted, to sever for years. Pale grew thy cheek, and cold, colder thy kiss. Truly that hour foretold, sorrow to this."

Mary wondered, did she know at the moment of that almost-kiss she had shared with Chris, the hurt she'd feel now? She and Chris had been spending so much time together of late. Sharing in each other, enjoying each other's company. Chris seemed to have been opening up, letting her in. Mary had thought finally, finally we're going to acknowledge that spark, that attraction that has been between us almost since the beginning.

Then Chris had pulled away.

"The dew of the mornin', sunk chill on my brow. It felt like a warnin' of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, an' light is thy fame. I hear thy name spoken, an' share in its shame."

Mary had been aware of the emotions she felt for Chris the moment they were born in her heart. They'd been gently nurtured along by her contact with the man over the many long months of their acquaintance, and their growing...friendship. Then those fledgling feelings had grown so great they needed to take wing, to soar. Instead they'd been dashed to the ground, wings clipped. But their desire to fly still brightly burned within her.

"They name thee before me, a knell to mine ear. A shudder comes o'er me, why wert thou so dear? They knew not I -- "

"Stop!" Mary cried out. Her head was downcast, eyes studying her hands clasped together in her lap. "That's not a good poem. I think you should pick another."

Vin gaped at her in concern. "Everything all right, Mary?"

"Yes, fine," Mary said, her words belied by her hands wiping at the corners of her eyes.

"Is it Chris?" Vin persisted, a little sharper than he'd intended. "What'd he do to you?"

"He didn't do anything," Mary mumbled, head still lowered.

"An' that's the problem," concluded Vin, nodding.

Mary looked up at him then, eyes glistening with moisture like water in a pool. "How long can someone keep caring for another who doesn't care in return?"

Vin's heart broke for her. 'Awful long,' he thought.

"Chris cares for you. I know he does," he said.

"Then why wouldn’t he prove it? Tell me why anyone would not act on such feelings?"

"I reckon a man would keep his feelin's to himself if he thought a lady were better not knowin' about 'em," Vin told her knowledgeably. Just how knowledgeably Mary was not aware. "But Chris...he..." Vin was acutely uncomfortable discussing Chris with Mary. "He's walked a hard road," he concluded lamely.

Mary didn't look very sympathetic. "Haven't we all," she muttered to herself.

"Makes him a little...a little gun shy," added Vin, feeling very out of his element.

Now Mary just looked incredulous. She sighed and shook her head, turning her attention to the fire. Vin watched the firelight flicker over her face and lost himself in the sadness of her eyes.

"Mary," he said quietly but earnestly. "If you're unhappy, well, that ain't right. My guess is that Chris ain't any happier 'n you are 'bout things. When two folks both ain't happy then I reckon that says somethin'. And it could be Chris'll never be free of his past."

They were silent for a moment, staring at each other. Finally Vin looked away.

"It ain't right for you to be unhappy," he repeated.

"You're absolutely right," Mary stated.

"Mary..." Vin began, surprised by the surety in her tone, but thinking she might want to ponder the matter some more.

"Let's hear another poem," interrupted Mary. She smiled brightly at him. "I'll bet you can find a better one."

"Okay," Vin acquiesced in view of her happier demeanor. He flipped a few pages of the book still in his hand.

"How 'bout this one?" He began to read. "O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea..."

*****

Rain on his face woke Vin in the gray dawn. He sat up abruptly, taking stock of the weather with a grimace. So much for a clear night to sleep out on the trail. Rain that had held off for weeks was now falling, and by the looks of the dark clouds, it was going to make up for lost time in a big hurry.

Vin woke up Mary and the pair made short work of packing up their small camp. Vin's priority now was to get Mary to Miller's Creek as quickly as possible. He'd worry about getting back to Four Corners after that.

Mary was quiet as they continued along the trail. She hadn't slept all that well on the hard, cold ground and the pouring rain now did nothing to alleviate her mood. Vin seemed content with the silence and so their only companion was the sound of water hitting the dry, baked earth turning it into mud.

The discomfort of the wet conditions didn't faze Vin very much. He was sorry that Mary had to suffer so, but he was more concerned with the condition of the trail, which was rapidly disintegrating, and the state of the river. A hard rain like this after so many weeks of hot sun was a nasty combination.

In the late afternoon Mary was sure they had to be almost at Miller's Creek but she bit back the question. Asking wouldn't make them arrive any faster and she could tell Vin was doing his best to get them there swiftly. So she was surprised when he suddenly reined in and began to examine the treeline above them as well as the sharp dropoff next to the river bank. She moved to get closer and he held up a hand to wave her back a few steps, then pressed a finger to his lips for silence.

Mary listened, but could hear nothing unusual, just the rain, the river current, and the horses breathing. Vin shifted his canteen so that it slung along his back and drew his weapon. Mary's eyes widened with alarm but before she could ask a shot came from the trees ahead of them on the trail.

"Damn," muttered Vin, ducking down and aiming to return fire.

"Is it the bandits?" asked Mary anxiously.

"Could be," responded Vin tersely. 'Could very well be, Tanner, and now what are you going to do?'

Much as Vin would have liked to move into an attack position and teach the bastards what he thought of people who preyed on travellers he had to think of Mary's safety. After sending a few more shots in the direction of their attackers he turned and urged Mary to retreat back along the trail. The rain made visibility poor and the mud made the path treacherous.

They hadn't gone very far before more shots were fired. Mary let out a cry as she realized that Vin's horse had been hit. The animal went down with a squeal; Vin flung himself free to avoid being pinned underneath the wounded beast.

With very little time to plan Vin decided to cut their losses. Thieves were more interested in horses and saddlebags than in people and though this bunch had proven that they had no problem killing to get their prize, it was unlikely they would pursue.

Sparing only a second for regret at the animal's death, Vin shot his horse to ease his misery. He then lifted Mary from her horse with a force that was more urgent than gentlemanly.

"Get down the bank," he urged. "Towards the river. We can lose them down there."

It was a calculated risk, Vin knew. The river was dangerous right now, its current churning with the flow of an unexpected rise in the water level. But given the danger of a flying bullet Vin figured it was the lesser of two evils.

Mary slipped and slid down the steep incline towards the river, knowing without looking that Vin was right behind her. Once at the bottom Vin hesitated only momentarily before leading Mary upstream.

"Aren't we going the wrong way?" asked Mary breathlessly, while Vin sought desperately for something that would serve for cover. He didn't reply or offer any explanation as their attackers made another appearance.

Vin pulled Mary behind him with a fierce jerk and fired back, taking no satisfaction in knowing he'd actually hit one of them this time. His alarm had just grown tenfold. These weren't just any thieves. They hadn't even stopped at the horses left behind on the trail. If they weren't after loot that meant they were after bodies. And that most likely meant bounty hunters.

"Keep going!" he ordered Mary. "I'll hold 'em off here. GO!" he yelled when Mary hesitated. "They didn't stop to rob us," he explained. "Could be they're after me. Get moving!"

'Bounty hunters!' thought Mary. She stumbled backwards a few steps then turned and ran, regretting that she had not been born a man and was therefore a burden to Vin instead of backup.

Seeing that she was actually leaving him, Vin returned to the task of stopping the source of those bullets.

The relentless rain offered a certain amount of cover by not only reducing visibility but also muffling the sound of footsteps. Vin crept back in the direction he'd come and found a gentler slope to climb back up towards the main trail. From his slightly elevated height he spotted one of the men making his way along the river's edge. Checking carefully around for any sign of another man, Vin pounced. He landed on the other man's back, knocking them both nearly into the water. As they grappled for a moment both their guns were flung wide.

Resorting to fists, he pounded his foe with a hard cut to the face. Before Vin could get to his feet the man had scrambled back towards the slope. Vin grabbed his gun and primed it, stepping towards the slope with a menacing stance.

"What are you after?" he shouted at the man, who flung a rock down in Vin's direction. "Dead or alive, huh," snorted Vin. "We'll see 'bout that!" He started to climb back up towards the slope.

A bullet landed right at Vin's feet, ricocheting off the rocks. Vin flinched and fired back in the direction of this other attacker. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the first man ready to leap. Turning and firing in one motion Vin jumped out of the way as the man's body fell in his direction.

Not lingering longer than was necessary Vin jumped back down to the river's edge and began running upstream. That third man was on the upper trail and had the advantage of that height. Vin was trapped in a canyon, with only a steep incline or a raging river as alternatives. He weaved and varied his path, ducking in close to the slope when it offered an outcropping for protection. Still nothing that would offer him a chance to fire back with any accuracy.

Around a bend he came suddenly across Mary, who was obviously in a quandary as how best to proceed. The river's edge had overflowed up the bank here and the path up to the trail was tricky. Vin's keen eyes assessed this immediately and he grabbed Mary's arm to pull her back downstream.

"There's a foot bridge around the corner here. Get across it!"

At Vin's command Mary whirled around and began a perilous crossing of the bridge. There was no time for caution, but plenty for fear, as the churning white water flowed up through the uneven slats under Mary's feet. Waves that crested the floorboards slapped at her already sodden skirts, pulling at her, pulling her over... Mary grabbed wildly at the frayed rope handrails to catch her balance. She didn't know if Vin was behind her or not, couldn't risk stopping to glance back, but she heard gunfire so she figured that meant he was still alive.

Mary concentrated on her goal of getting across the bridge. The opposite side wasn't so far now. One step, another, almost... There. Her boot touched the slippery yet solid rock of the riverbank.

Vin saw Mary gain firm ground and gauged how much time he had. If it came down to it, he thought he'd cut the ropes holding up the bridge. That would leave Mary stranded on the other side, but at least that way she'd be safe, cut off from their attacker. 'Course then he would be forced to fight the man at close range. He eyed the gunman's progress along the upper trail. He might have just enough time. Walking backwards while exchanging gunfire, Vin set out onto the bridge.

The boards were now mostly submerged; water rose up past Vin's boot heels. The structure shook madly, like an unbroken stallion trying to shake a rider from its back. Vin had to go slowly, at the same time trying not to get shot.

Their assailant had reached the end of the trail and the riverbank was a ten foot drop from where he stood at the edge of the cliff face eyeing them. Vin figured the man had two choices. He could jump down and come after them, in which case Vin might have a few seconds to make a run for it, or he could stay put and try to pin Vin down with his rifle. If he missed then Vin would surely get away. Once to the other side of the river Vin could destroy the bridge and keep the gunman at bay.

They stared each other down momentarily through the sights of their guns, Vin still taking slow, cautious steps away. The second he saw the man relax his arm and take a step to the edge of the cliff Vin turned and ran, splashing and sliding, clawing at the ropes to maintain his forward drive.

Her heart racing with panic, Mary could only watch as their assailant dropped to the riverside and then regained his footing. Vin was only halfway across the bridge when their attacker set foot on it. The man fought for his balance on the swaying bridge, found it, and raised his rifle to his shoulder.

Mary cried out Vin's name right before two things happened at once. With a great snap the strained ropes of the bridge pulled free as the man fired on Vin.

Vin felt the stability of the bridge give way and he stopped running, tensed and took a giant leap forward toward the riverbank. The moment he was airborne he felt a searing pain scorch his thigh and when he landed, thankfully, at the rocky river's edge his leg gave out, buckling beneath his weight. He felt his body twist and instinctively grabbed at handfuls of air to try and keep his stance, to no avail. He fell hard, his head glancing off a rock so violently he saw stars.

Racing to his side Mary noticed but barely registered the sight of their assailant being swept away down the river with the remains of the ruined bridge. She stumbled across the stones, going to her knees at Vin's side.

'Oh please, oh please God don't let him be shot.'

Vin was blinking rapidly, trying dizzily to sit up, seemingly unaware of the blood seeping from his leg and mixing with the rain to pool upon the rocky ground. Mary knew she'd have to get him to a cabin she'd glimpsed from the trail that sat just beyond the line of trees. They might find help there, and even if not, she needed to look after Vin's injury out of the rain. She knew she'd have to get him there quickly before he passed out from the knock on his head.

"You have to get up, Vin. Come with me," Mary ordered, pulling at his arm. Vin didn't respond but he rose shakily to his feet and then let her lead him forward, limping and resting heavily on her.

"Just a few more feet," coaxed Mary when Vin stumbled, almost dragging her down with him. "We're almost there."

She was bearing more and more of his weight and she was afraid he would fall and she wouldn't be able to get him up again. "Keep going, almost there," she said over and over.

They finally made it to the door of the cabin and Mary kicked at it, sighing with relief as it yielded to her. As they lurched over the threshold Mary felt Vin sag against her but their momentum was enough that she could propel him across the narrow room to a cot resting against the wall.

Vin fell heavily onto it, unaware as he finally lost consciousness. Mary pushed at his shoulders to ease him onto his back and picked up his ankles to settle him fully on the bed. She put a trembling hand to her chest and took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop its furious beating. She pushed her dripping hair back from her face and then set about to examine Vin's wound.

She pulled his boots off but realized that as he was soaking wet, she'd never be able to remove Vin's trousers to get to his injury. She opened his coat and found the knife that hung from his gunbelt. Taking the handle of the cold steel blade in her grip she neatly slit the leg of Vin's trousers from ankle to thigh. She then turned the knife on herself, pulling up her skirt to cut off a length of petticoat with which she mopped at the crimson blood pouring from Vin's flesh.

Kneeling on the foot of the bed Mary applied pressure to the wound until the bleeding slowed enough that she could inspect the area. She squinted in the meager light coming through the open door to the cabin. Near as she could tell the wound was a gash along Vin's thigh, rather than a hole through it. Mary closed her eyes and breathed a long sigh of relief. The bullet had only grazed him then, rather than gone in.

Still, she had to bandage it, and Mary did so after cutting another strip from her underskirts. Her rudimentary aid completed, Mary sat back to take a look at Vin.

His face was flushed and beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. Wet hair lay matted across his cheek and he shivered from lying in drenched clothing.

Mary slipped off the end of the cot and moved around to Vin's side where she struggled to pull off his coat. Once that was accomplished, she unbuttoned his shirt and slipped his arms from it. Her chilled fingers reached down past his waist to grasp the buckle of his gunbelt. Shaking as she was, more from shock than from cold, it took her a couple of attempts to divest Vin of the gunbelt. Once she had finally removed it and dropped it to the floor she grabbed an old, threadbare blanket that had been folded neatly at the foot of the bed and covered him with it.

Then Mary perched herself on the edge of the bed to rest for a moment and to take stock of their surroundings. The first thing she noticed when she looked around was a lantern hanging from a peg by the door, complete with matches at its base. When she felt her heart had calmed from its furious pace set by fear and her frenzied tending of Vin's wound, she rose and went over to the lantern. She struck one of the matches and lit the lantern, placing it on a rickety table that stood by the bed. The room was immediately diffused in a soft amber glow, illuminating the fact that the cabin had most certainly been deserted by whoever had lived there. It boasted only the cot on which Vin lay, and the old, scarred table. And, blessedly, a fireplace with a few pieces of wood stacked beside it.

Mary quickly laid a fire, pulling bark from the logs for kindling. Once the fire was burning strongly enough to be left unattended, she spread Vin's shirt out on the floor to be dried by the heat and hung his jacket on the peg from which she'd procured the lantern. With a final, concerned glance back at her patient, she stepped out the door and back into the rain.

*****

Chris sat at the desk in the jailhouse with three rifles laid out before him. He'd methodically stripped them down, cleaned them, and reassembled them. Now all that was left was to secure them on the rack again.

Beside him, behind the bars, the three prisoners were silent. They'd been vocal enough when Chris had relieved Ezra at noon, but it hadn't taken them long to realize their new jailer wasn't much for chatter.

Chris figured Ezra would be by any time now with suppers for the three men and then Chris could go to the saloon. He'd nothing to show for his afternoon's work except for three sullen thieves and three clean rifles. Maybe a drink in the saloon would be more productive for his thinking.

Chris scowled.

He'd laid out all his problems in his mind, much like the pieces of the weapons on the desk, and he'd looked at every bit of them, every angle, trying to figure out a way to reassemble them and have it come out better than it was. Trouble was, Chris couldn't change the past. If he could fix his problems as neatly as he'd dealt with the rifles then he'd probably be leaning back in his chair with a self satisfied smirk. Instead, he was glaring at the desk as though challenging the newly serviced weapons to try something—anything—that would make him fire one of them.

Chris's lips twitched with an unamused grin. Perhaps that would help. If he had an excuse to discharge his weapon maybe then he'd feel better.

'Doubt it.'

Truth was, the only conclusion Chris had come to, no matter how he analyzed it, was that he was going to have to deal with the bandits with only Ezra for backup. Then he would have to talk to Mary and offer her an explanation, and an apology, for his callous indifference the other day.

Chris was only mildly concerned about the first problem. Even without the other regulators' immediate presence they would all be returning shortly. And there'd been no sign that the remaining bandits were thinking of coming back to Four Corners. If they'd planned on breaking their companions out of jail, they'd probably have already tried it by now.

The second problem was more of a thorn for Chris. How the hell was he supposed to explain to Mary what happened, and in such a way as to sufficiently ease her hurt, when he didn't have a clue himself?

'You coward, Larabee,' he thought with disgust. He found it somewhat amusing that facing a crowd of lawless scumbags who stole from and injured innocent people for sport didn't faze him. Yet confronting Mary Travis had him completely stymied.

The reasons for that didn't escape him. Like stripping the weapons this afternoon, facing criminals was a task that he was comfortable doing, even if he didn't like it. It was familiar territory. He'd done it before and he'd do it again.

Mary Travis, on the other hand, was a whole new realm of experience and his feelings for her were complicated by his guilt and his fear which surrounded others he'd loved yet lost.

As Chris got up from the desk to secure the weapons, he figured the afternoon hadn't been a complete waste of time. After all, he had cleaned the rifles. And he'd pretty much decided on his priorities for dealing with his problems. The fact that Mary had left town early yesterday morning with Vin eased his conscience about procrastinating. Not to mention that he'd finally gotten those three bastards behind bars to finally shut up.

The door to the jail opened and Chris turned, expecting to see Ezra. Buck entered and Chris felt a small twinge of optimism shake his gloomy thoughts. If Buck was back then so was JD and their numbers had doubled. Buck's expression, however, was not his usual jovial grin. He looked troubled and Chris immediately assumed the worst.

"JD all right?" Chris asked, his muscles tightening with concern. Nathan was still a long way from home and if the kid had been hurt...

"He's fine," Buck assured Chris quickly. He jerked his head in the direction of the street. "We need to talk."

Chris glanced uneasily back at the sullen prisoners but decided that locked up they were harmless enough to leave untended for the moment. He stepped onto the boardwalk with Buck and unconsciously sighed in the late afternoon air.

"You find any trouble?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," muttered Buck. "A whole heap."

Chris tensed again.

"Just not the kind we were expecting," continued Buck. "We didn't find hide nor hair of this gang..."

"That's 'cause they were busy raiding our town!" interrupted Chris, still resentful of this fact.

Buck nodded. He'd stopped by the saloon looking for Chris and had gotten a picture of what happened from Ezra.

Chris rubbed his temple. "So, what did you find then?"

Buck's eyes flickered around down towards his boots and then he faced his friend with a frank gaze. "Ella Gaines," he told Chris grimly.

Chris physically recoiled from the name, as though Buck's words had slapped him. Ella! While it would be impossible for Chris to forget Ella and her despicable crimes he had relegated her to a part of his brain that kept her from consuming his every waking thought. He'd had to, or he wouldn't have been able to function.

They'd lost her trail and by the time Chris was well enough to participate in the hunt Ella had completely disappeared. Her letter, sent care of The Clarion, told Chris that Ella wasn't giving up. But he'd had to accept that he couldn't do anything until she resurfaced. Now apparently she had.

"Ella? Where?" Chris barked. "What happened?"

Buck held up a hand. "Easy now, pard. I know how you feel..."

"No, you don't!" ground out Chris through clenched teeth.

Buck swallowed uncomfortably. "Fair enough," he conceded quietly. "Nothing happened. As soon as I realized it was her I got outta there. She never saw me and JD was outside of town."

"And you just left?" Chris could feel himself getting wound up. He knew rationally that Buck wasn't the enemy, and that unleashing his anger on his friend was counter productive. But his rational thoughts weren't exactly in control at the moment.

"I thought it best to get reinforcements," Buck defended himself. "I sorta figured you might want to take care of things personally," he added. "Now, we've got a little problem here in town to deal with and then we'll go get Ella. All of us."

Chris shook his head and brought his hands to his face, clenching them into fists. He paced along the short space in front of the jail.

"No, no, no, Ella's slippery. We'll need to pin her down or she'll go back into hiding."

"She's still in hiding," Buck said reassuringly. "She's living under a different name. She's not going anywhere."

Chris stopped his motion and looked sharply at Buck as though he'd just thought of something. "Where did you find her?"

"Miller's Creek. She's running the newspaper there, if you can believe that!" Buck snorted.

Chris felt the earth shift underneath him. It was like the boardwalk tilted up, threatening to knock him over. He reached out blindly and when his fingers brushed the beam holding up the railing he held on to prevent himself from falling. Then he whirled around and took off for the livery at a run.

"Whoa, Chris!" Buck called, in pursuit immediately. He'd seen the effect Ella's location had on his friend and was surprised. For a moment stark terror had masked the hatred so plainly expressed on Chris's features. Buck caught up to Chris and placed a restraining hand on his arm. Chris shrugged him off easily, undeterred in his path.

"Hey, wait! Chris!" Buck maneuvered in front of his friend and when Chris tried to sidestep, he place his hands flat on Chris's chest to stop him. "Hold up there. Where do you think you're going?"

"Miller's Creek," Chris said shortly. "Outta my way."

"Now one second, I thought we were clear on this. We have responsibilities here first. She's not going to disappear while we deal with that."

"You don't understand, Buck!" Chris yelled and tried once again to get around the obstacle of his friend. But Buck was just as determined to stop him.

"Well, why don't you explain it to me then!" he snapped.

Chris let out an inarticulate snarl and turned away, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. All he could see beyond his fear and rage were the smoldering ruins of a farmhouse, Sarah's face and Adam's, and Vin...and Mary...

"Come on, Chris," Buck urged gently. "I know what she did. I loved them too. But we have to think things through otherwise more people are liable to get hurt and you don't..."

"Mary's gone to Miller's Creek," Chris interrupted in a low voice.

"Wha..?" Buck was bewildered.

"She went to visit a friend. A fellow newspaper editor!" Chris's voice rose with every word.

"God damn!" Buck breathed. "Alone?"

"Vin's with her," Chris informed him.

"You know Vin would never let anything happen to Mary," Buck said immediately.

"I know," Chris said bleakly. "He'd die first."

Buck nodded slowly. The two locked eyes for a moment.

"JD'll stay with Ezra and watch the town," Buck said. "Let's ride."

*****

The storm was bringing the day to an untimely finish; dusk was already settling in though it was still early in the evening. It was not so dim that Mary could not see her surroundings however.

Walking briskly, Mary moved back around to the front of the cabin. She'd seen Vin's rifle fly from his hands when he'd made the leap from bridge to bank of the river. Scanning the area she caught a flash of metal amid the stones of the riverbank. She moved to where she'd sighted it, and retrieved the gun. While she was positive that the man who'd chased them across the river had been the last of their assailants left alive, she still felt safer knowing the firearm was close at hand.

When she reentered the cabin a bit later she bore a pail of fresh water drawn from a well found at the rear of the homestead. She'd also discovered another shelter, probably for animals, and a kettle for cooking hung over a fire pit.

Mary checked on Vin, dismayed to find his skin now hot to the touch. She spoke his name gently, but there was no sign he heard her.

Knowing she would be of no help if she took ill herself, Mary stole a moment to tend to her needs. She peeled off her soaking wet dress and petticoats, staying clad only in her chemise and undergarments. She laid her clothing out to dry and pulled on Vin's shirt, at worst now just damp in places, for warmth.

Checking his leg wound, Mary was pleased to see that the bleeding had not seeped through the bandaging. But his high temperature was alarming. She had no means to treat a fever, no herbs or remedies that Nathan or another healer would use. Mary wet a cloth made from the remains of her petticoat with the cold well water and positioned herself on the edge of the cot to begin bathing Vin's face with it.

"Don't you die on me, Vin Tanner," Mary warned aloud. "You have a lot more living to do."

Her hand swept the cloth down over and past his shoulders, brushing along his bare chest in an effort to cool his fever. Mary continued her litany.

"There isn't a man half as generous and good-hearted as you in all of Four Corners, so we need you around. I need you around. Who else is going to bring me poems?"

Mary wet the cloth again and pushed Vin's hair from his forehead with one hand, laying the compress to his brow with the other. She leaned closer to him.

"You're such a special man, Vin. Do you know that? I knew from the start that you were kind, and brave, and giving, and now I know that there's so much more to you than that, too. When you came to me and asked me to teach you to read by reciting that poem to me, well, I nearly swooned in my chair, right there in the newspaper office. Those were beautiful words, and you have a truly beautiful heart."

"I need that kind of beauty in my life," whispered Mary, "so please, don't die on me." She brought her face down to his and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek.

Vin lay motionless, oblivious in his fever.

Mary rose and moved to the top of the bed. She climbed up, pulling Vin's head onto her lap. She stroked her fingers through his hair and continued to bathe his burning skin. Night had come and despite the lantern and the fire, there was only a feeble glow to stave off the darkness in the room. The only sounds keeping Mary company in her vigil were the rain dancing on the roof, the roaring of the river outside, and the cracking wood in the fire.

Succumbing to fatigue and stress Mary felt her tears begin to flow. They fell onto Vin's face to shimmer like drops of dew on rose petals at dawn. When her emotion was finally spent, Mary fell into a fitful sleep, arms wrapped protectively around a man she found she cared a great deal about.

*****

Buck had lost track of the time. He knew it was before dawn but only because it was still dark. He felt like he'd been in the saddle for days, and rightly so. He and JD hadn't spared any time getting back to Four Corners and he'd more or less done an about face to return to Miller's Creek.

Neither man nor beast was meant to endure such a pace. Even Chris Larabee could recognize this. They'd stopped by a creek, one of the many tributaries to the main river that ran through Miller's Creek, so the horses could drink and rest. Buck was trying to rest as well, squatting at first and then sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him. He didn't care about the wet ground; he barely felt it.

Buck's rest was hampered by Chris's inability to be still. He paced in front of Buck with agitation, his face a mask of tight concern. Buck's eyes were all that followed Chris's motion but the scuffing of his boots and jarring jingle of his spurs were starting to grate on Buck's rapidly dwindling patience.

Chris was worried sick over Mary and Vin. So was Buck. Buck had the added burden of worrying about Chris as well. He wasn't sure if this was more for what Chris was going to do when they found Ella, or for what Chris would do if something had happened to Mary or Vin. Buck had welcomed the return of his old friend, who'd been making appearances ever so slightly in the months since they'd met up in Four Corners. Even at his most optimistic, Buck never expected Chris to be the same man he'd known before. But Buck no longer despaired that Chris would never be able to move beyond his tragedy. Vin was a part of that healing. Mary Travis and her son even more so. If something had befallen either of those influences, Buck feared his friend would be well and truly lost forever.

Buck sighed.

"Chris, we've got to think things through," he said wearily. "If we go blazing into town with guns drawn, like bulls in a china shop, we're only going to make things worse."

"She's tricky," muttered Chris. At first, Buck couldn't tell if this comment was in response to his advice or merely Chris vocalizing his thoughts. "She'll sneak out the back door unless we catch her off guard."

"If she's..." Buck stopped abruptly, not wanting to put words to the idea. "If she's got them," he continued, keeping his voice low, "then we can't risk..."

This time his words were cut short by an outburst from Chris. "No Buck!" he yelled. "You don't get it, do you? You just don't get it!"

Chris raised his hands to his face, covering his eyes as though to block out a terrifying image. He let out a growl of frustrated rage, balling his hands into fists and swinging his arms around, fighting a foe he saw in his mind. Buck remained calm, feeling tired and sick, staring up at him with anxious eyes.

"What is it I'm not getting, Chris?" he asked, his gentle voice not even hinting at his own turmoil.

Chris whirled back on his friend.

"Ella didn't take them for hostages! Ella's not interested in hostages! She only wants to eliminate anyone she perceives as a threat. She's got this perverted delusion, this crazy idea that..."

"That's right," interrupted Buck. "She's crazy as a loon. So we can't predict what she'll do, so we can't..."

Chris wasn't listening anymore. He walked away from Buck, towards their horses. Buck sighed, heaved himself up to his feet, and followed.

"What we can't do," Chris said coldly, "is waste any time."

*****

The town of Miller's Creek was comparable in size to Four Corners with the added benefit of not suffering from a prevalent lawless element. In addition to the usual assortment of businesses, it boasted a prosperous mill, whose wheelhouse stood proudly at the end of the main street and harnessed the power of the river.

Buck noted that the river was flowing a lot higher under the wooden slats of the bridge than it had been when he'd left town a few days ago. The late afternoon sunlight reflected off the water in sparkles. He wasn't sure why he would notice such details unless it was to avoid thinking about the path of destruction on which his friend was now walking.

Chris slowed his horse only marginally upon entering the town and reined up sharply when he nearly plowed over a woman crossing the street. She looked up, alarmed as much by the near miss as by his demeanor.

"The newspaper. Where is it?" he asked harshly. His horse, reacting to the tension of its rider, danced back and forth a few steps.

Whatever the woman thought of this uncouth barbarian she could recognize a dangerous man when she saw one.

"Down past the hardware store, on the left, by the corner." She gestured with one hand, stepping back. Chris nodded curtly at her and was off again.

Buck came up just behind and offered the woman a sad smile, tipping his hat with thanks. He leaned over towards her, hoping he didn't scare her as much as Chris obviously had.

"Ma'am, I would greatly appreciate it if you could get your sheriff to meet us there. I sure hate to impose on you, and I would be forever in your debt."

The woman blinked a few times and then nodded. This man was obviously better mannered than his companion.

"I'll get him for you."

Buck smiled again and straightened in his saddle. "Much obliged, ma'am."

Chris found the newspaper office easily enough and swung his leg over his horse to put his heels down before the animal had stopped its forward motion. He leapt up the steps and threw open the door so hard the panes of glass rattled with protest. A bell clanged loudly above his head, announcing his presence to anyone who might have missed his entrance.

There were only two people in the room. A timid looking, bespectacled man with ink on his fingers and a smudge on his cheek was operating the printing press. Ella stood just beside him. They both turned around, startled by the violence of Chris's arrival.

"Ella Gaines," seethed Chris. He clenched his jaw.

Ella managed to look pleased and cautious at the same time. "Chris!" she said brightly, but Chris saw a malicious gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "You came."

"You murdering BITCH!" he spat and surged forward.

Ella tried to sidestep around the press but was hampered by her assistant, who scrambled to get out of Chris's way. Chris grabbed her by her arm with one hand and yanked her towards him. With his other hand he reached for her neck and clutched a handful of her hair in a fist. When he pulled on her head, hard enough to make her cry out, the assistant offered a feeble protest from behind the safety of the printing press.

"Hey, now, you can't just walk in here and..."

"Stow it!" bellowed Chris, letting go of Ella's arm to draw his weapon and fire it into the press. A frightened squeak accompanied the rattle of metal.

"Horace!" called Ella. "Get Tony."

Chris didn't wait for Horace to respond to this order. He pulled on Ella's hair, forcing her to stumble out into the street. The townsfolk gave them a wide berth, with a few low mumblings and some wary looks. But as with the woman who offered directions, they realized that Chris was a force to be reckoned with and that's why they paid a man with a badge.

"What have you done with them?" growled Chris, shaking her roughly.

She let out another involuntary cry with the abuse to her head.

"What have you done with them?" he roared. Ella stared up at him with wildly defiant eyes and smiled as a response.

Running footsteps sounded behind them, coming from the back of the building. A shot rang out, the bullet flying wide, but Ella cringed in his grip. Chris swung around with his gun held straight and fired, not even waiting to acknowledge his target. He brought his gun back down and pressed the barrel into Ella's cheek.

"Looks like Tony won't be much help to you," he hissed.

Ella's eyes were wide as she looked down at the gun now resting on her cheekbone.

"I asked you a question," Chris spoke softly, but his intent was no less threatening.

Buck had arrived on the scene in time to see Chris drop Ella's protector. Even given that the other man had fired first, Buck had never seen Chris shoot with such indifference to life before. He'd only wounded the man, but that was more to do with luck than skill. Buck drew his own weapon and eased off his horse slowly. He cautiously approached the wounded man, retrieving the fallen gun, before looking around to see if Ella had any other defenders. And he prayed the sheriff would arrive soon, hopefully before a killing took place right there in front of everyone.

Chris drew the hammer back on his gun, the click seeming extraordinarily loud against the backdrop of Ella's ragged breathing. She no longer struggled in his grasp but held absolutely still, with only her eyes moving as they examined the gun and then stared up at Chris.

Chris had never hated someone with such intensity before in his life. He'd never wanted to kill someone with such rage. More than that, he'd never wanted to be the cause of someone's suffering the way he wanted her to suffer. To ache, as he had. To despair. To hate oneself and distrust one's feelings. Just as she had done to him.

She had not only taken those he loved from him, cruelly, inexplicably, but she'd done so out of a twisted kind of love for him. She was someone he had cared about, had made love with; she'd made him smile and laugh and enjoy life. Now all his memories of her were tarnished with the knowledge that she'd used his feelings for her as an excuse to murder innocent people. She made him doubt his own feelings, his own ability to take joy in anything, and had brought him to a point where anger and hatred were more familiar to him than happiness. To a point where he held a woman by her hair in the street and threatened to put a bullet in her brain in front of a multitude of witnesses, including Buck. Chris knew his friendship with Buck had been severely tested in recent years; he doubted it would survive him killing a woman in cold blood, no matter what her crime.

"If you kill me," Ella said in a hoarse whisper, "then you'll never know what happened to them."

Chris shook her again, pushing the gun against her cheek hard enough to bruise.

"I'll know because it'll be the last thing you tell me!"

Ella's mouth twisted into a cruel smile of satisfaction. "You won't kill me," she challenged. "You couldn't do it then and you can't do it now. Not when there might be a chance you can save them. You shoot me and you may as well be shooting her in the head."

Chris's trigger finger trembled as his muscles contracted. He had nearly killed her before, he remembered. When the truth of her involvement in the fire was revealed he'd been bombarded with memories of his family, their deaths, their graves. Without even realizing what he was doing, he'd suddenly had his hands around her throat. If gunfire hadn't snapped him out of his rage he might not have stopped.

He still felt that murderous impulse of fury, but he could still remember his wife's smiling face and his son's laugh. The knowledge that Ella had taken this from him was suddenly muted by the realization that he could hear Adam's laughter and his voice. He thought he'd forgotten but there it was, clear as a bell. The feeling of that small body in his arms, his son's head resting in sleep against his shoulder... Chris remembered the gentle touch of Sarah's hand in his and felt a sense of peace hit him instead of anger. On the heels of this was a memory of taking Billy Travis fishing and the excited sound of that boy's voice when Chris made an appearance in his home.

Chris's hand clenched Ella's hair involuntarily as he remembered Mary. Mary with her beautiful hair and her clear blue eyes...

Chris drew up straight and released Ella with a sudden jerk that toppled her over backwards. He kept his gun cocked and trained on her as she scrambled to her feet, backing slowly away from his reach.

Chris knew for a certainty that he could not kill her, even if she turned and ran. He was not so far gone into bitterness that he couldn't still feel love or be happy at the sound of a child's laugh. He was not so twisted that he would kill a woman rather than bring her to justice. Ella wasn't right in the head; as with Hank Connelly, Chris didn't understand it but he recognized it.

"Where are they, Ella?" he asked again, and his voice was almost calm.

"What the devil's going on here?" boomed a deep voice from behind them.

'Oh thank God!' thought Buck. 'Thank Him and Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus too!' It was the sheriff. Buck stepped forward, keeping half an eye on Ella's wounded compatriot.

"Sheriff, this woman is wanted for the murder of a woman and her child," he told the newcomer.

"Oh yeah." The sheriff didn't sound impressed. He quickly took stock of the situation. "I s'pose the woman and child were related to that fella in the black?"

"Wife and son," Buck said quietly.

"Oh yeah," the sheriff said. He regarded the standoff passively. Buck wondered how Ella was regarded in this town. Her popularity could make things very tricky. "What do you say to that, Miz Campbell?"

"This man is trying to kill me," Ella called out, never taking her eyes from Chris's face.

"Oh yeah," the sheriff said. He looked around again. "Miz Campbell, I think if he wanted you dead then that's what you'd be right now." Then the sheriff turned to Buck and asked quietly, "You got any proof she killed that fella's kin?"

Buck nodded swiftly. "Yeah, we got proof enough. But..."

Before he could continue Chris's voice interrupted. "Sheriff, this woman knows something about the disappearance of two people. I'd appreciate your help in getting that information outta her before I fire my gun in her direction."

"Oh yeah," said the sheriff.

"Sheriff," interjected Ella swiftly, "I would ask that you take me into protective custody. I fear for my life."

Buck swore under his breath. It was obvious to him that Ella's moment of fear had passed. She held all the cards now.

"You do, do you." The sheriff was unimpressed. "Well, are you gonna cooperate?"

She shot him a glare. "Of course I'll cooperate! Just get Mr. Larabee to put down his weapon first."

"Oh yeah," said the sheriff. He raised his eyebrows. "Larabee? Chris Larabee? Ain't you the law over Four Corners way?"

"Yeah, that's him," Buck assured.

"Well, shoot, don't that beat all!" The sheriff chuckled.

Chris turned to send an exasperated look at Buck.

"Right!" Buck rubbed his hands together. "Now that the introductions are over, what say we get these folks off the street, and Ella into the jail?"

"Oh yeah," said the sheriff. "Good idea."

*****

If ever a woman was to try Buck's considerable patience with, not to mention fondness for, the fairer sex that woman was Ella Gaines. Her demeanor since being locked in the town's only jail cell, fortunately empty at the time, had ranged from anger to indifferent to coy. Not fear, Buck noted. That moment had been used up while in the street and at Chris's mercy.

Buck wasn't sure if the presence of the sheriff was enough to prevent Chris from regretting his earlier compassion. Hell, Buck felt like drawing his gun and shooting Ella, so Chris must be fairly close to committing murder. And that was before Ella began speaking of the future, the one without Mary Travis; the one Chris would spend with Ella.

The sheriff, awed as he was by Chris's reputation, had more or less remained passive during the interrogation. He'd slouched in his chair as though a mere spectator of the justice he was supposed to be upholding. But as Ella prattled on about her plans - their plans - the sheriff sat up straighter and shot a look at Buck that was both alarmed and perplexed.

Chris didn't react as Buck would have expected. Had his old friend stepped up to rattle the bars of the cell with rage and shouted angry words of denial at the woman's plans, Buck would not have been surprised. Instead, Chris regarded Ella stonily, from a distance, and told her flatly in a low tone, "You're crazy if you think I ever want to spend another second in your company except to -- see -- you -- hang."

Just as Chris seemed oblivious to Ella's flirtation, so she seemed unaware of his hostility. She smiled at Chris with a dreamy look. After a moment of silence Chris turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door solidly behind him.

The sheriff cleared his throat, obviously uncertain how to proceed. Buck pushed himself up from his perch on the sheriff's desk. He closed the door quietly behind him, startled to find Chris standing just outside staring up at the night sky, hands on his hips.

"She doesn't know anything," Chris said. "Her men didn't come back but she doesn't know why." He shook his head with disgust. "What a waste of time."

"Sheriff said that storm caused a heap of grief, Chris," Buck offered. "Could be Ella's men never got near Mary and Vin before they were forced off trail for shelter."

"Then where are they?" Chris asked harshly, turning to look at Buck's pained face. He leaned forward on the rail of the boardwalk, head bowed. He lowered his tone. "Then why haven't they arrived?"

"I don't know," Buck confessed, unwilling to offer any theories as most of the scenarios that presented themselves would be of little comfort. "But we're not going to find them in the dark."

Chris acknowledged this with a tired slump in his shoulders.

"First light," he said curtly.

"First light," Buck agreed in a whisper, watching Chris walk away.

*****

When Vin regained consciousness it was to a cold cloth wiping at his brow and Mary's face, drawn with fatigue and concern, staring down at him in the lantern light.

"Mary," he croaked out, or tried to. The word came out raspy, his throat dry from dehydration and disuse.

Mary handed him his canteen full of water. "Go slow," she cautioned. She reached an arm behind his shoulders to help him sit up and he realized he was lying on a cot of some sort, Mary sitting right beside him.

The water soothed his parched mouth and throat as he sipped at it. When he'd drunk just enough to satisfy his need he lowered the canteen to his lap. At the moment it felt greatly heavy.

"How long?" he asked Mary, words coming stronger now. "How long was I out?"

"Over a day," was Mary's reply. "You gave me quite a scare, Vin Tanner. You ran a high fever and I had nothing to treat it with but a rag soaked in cold water and lots of prayer."

"Sorry t'be a bother," Vin apologized.

"You could never be a bother," declared Mary. The words warmed him.

"Where are we?" Vin looked around the four walls of the room, on which light danced from a fireplace at one end. Aside from the cot on which he lay, he could see only a small table that held the lantern, and a door. The room didn't look large enough to hold anything else. Vin had a vague memory of the small cabin sitting on the other side of the river, but most of what he recollected of his dash across the bridge was only a blur.

There had been the wall of water rushing toward him, the feeling of the ropes and footboards of the bridge pulling free, Mary screaming his name, the report of a rifle and a searing pain along his leg, that last, desperate jump, stumbling, falling, someone...Mary...urging him along just a few more steps, and then the blackness.

Mary was answering his question. "It seems to be an abandoned homestead. There's this cabin, and outside there's a large fire pit, a shelter for a couple of horses, and even a small vegetable garden that looks like it was tended through the summer. We're very lucky it was here. The water is still moving fast in the river and you're in no shape to go anywhere yet with that leg."

His leg did hurt. "Was I shot?"

"Just grazed, thank goodness. I don't want to think about how I would have gone about tending a bullet wound here."

"You would have managed." Vin was certain Mary could accomplish near anything she put her mind to.

"I'm just glad I didn't have to try. Now, do you think you could try drinking a cup of broth?"

"Yes'm." The water he'd drank a moment ago was resting in an awfully empty stomach.

"I'll be right back." Mary excused herself to go outdoors.

Vin moved the canteen from his lap to the table and leaned his right shoulder against the rough wall at his side. His energy was depleted and there was a dull ache in his thigh, but he was alive, and Mary uninjured, so his minor discomforts were inconsequential.

He did flip down the light blanket that covered the lower half of his body to examine his leg. Though shirtless, and understandably so when Mary had been trying to cool him down to subdue his fever, he was still clad in his trousers. The right leg of the garment had been slit up to his thigh, which was wrapped in a neat bandage. Vin tried moving his leg experimentally, which resulted in tendrils of pain radiating slowly away from the site of the wound. Mary was right; he'd be okay, but he wasn't going anywhere fast.

Mary returned and handed him a battered tin cup full of a steaming liquid. She sat down with him on the cot again, facing him. There was, of course, no where else to sit in the tiny shack and Vin didn't expect her to remain standing while she tended to him, but now with his strength and senses returning he was very aware of the warmth of her leg where it rested against his own, even through their layers of clothing and the thin blanket between them.

"It's not much, but it should provide some nourishment," Mary said of the broth as he drank from the cup. "There were a few vegetables still left in that garden out there, but that was all I had to put in it. There was nothing else for flavouring."

"It's jus' fine," Vin told her when he'd drank his fill. He handed her his empty cup and she placed it on the table.

"Thank you, Mary. Thank you for the broth an' for takin' care of me."

Mary waved away his appreciation. "It's nothing."

"No, it ain't nothin'," said Vin firmly. He continued in earnest, "Once again I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, fair lady."

"Vin..." Mary was at a loss for words in the face of his heartfelt gratitude.

The lantern light cast a glow to Mary's pale hair, which fell unbound to her shoulders. Vin thought she looked like nothing so much as a beautiful angel, and maybe she was, sent down from heaven to provoke his mind with words, and to win his heart.

A passage from that book of poetry he'd read from the night on the trail surfaced in his memory. He lifted a hand to capture a few of Mary's wayward tresses in his fingers while he recited the words in a soft voice.

"She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies. And all that's best of dark an' bright. Meet in her aspect, an' her eyes."

Those eyes of Mary's were wide and gazing at him in wonder. Her lips had parted to draw in a delicate gasp of air.

"Chris Larabee is a fool," proclaimed Vin in a husky tone, "to not have made you his when he had the chance. You deserve to be treated so much better than he's been treatin' you. A man should cherish a woman like you."

"Chris Larabee has made it abundantly clear that he is not interested in that sort of relationship with me," Mary said quietly. "And he has no hold over me. I do what I want."

Vin's hand came to rest where it was just barely touching Mary's cheek. He stroked his thumb with a feather light touch against her skin. "What do you want, Mary?"

She turned her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes. A heartbeat later her lashes fluttered open again. She met his searching gaze and whispered, "I want to be closer with you."

Vin audibly drew breath and thought the pounding of his heart in his chest could be heard out loud too. He dropped his hand from Mary's face so he could wrap both his arms around her and pull her to him. One hand crept up her back to tangle in her hair then rest at the top of her neck, his palm cradling her head. He tilted her head back and her face up to his.

A soft cry tore loose from Mary's throat as Vin's mouth claimed hers, kissing her slowly and tenderly. His kisses were rhythmic, but not demanding, though Mary could sense a restrained passion in him.

He was right, she thought, she was deserving of a man who would cherish her. Vin was certainly the sort of man who would do so. Chris was the type who would constantly be challenging her. Chris would kiss her with a wild abandon, not with Vin's gentlemanly constraint. Vin was kind and considerate and, oh yes, undoubtedly attractive. Mary thought there was no sin in noticing the physical attributes of the opposite sex, and when she had been bathing Vin in his fevered state she couldn't help but notice him. Yes, Chris Larabee was a fool and Mary wanted this. She raised her hands to place her palms on Vin's solidly muscled, naked chest and leaned closer into him.

Vin flinched at her touch, but not from any pain. He felt a swift thrill of desire course through him, but he kept his kisses patient and gentle. Mary's wasn't the sort of woman with whom things should move quickly. He wanted to savour every moment with her.

That she wanted his attentions, had in fact told him so in her own voice, with her own words, astonished him and exhilarated him. With Mary's lips warm and sweet under his, and her hands caressing the planes of his chest and the curve of his shoulders, he still couldn't help but consider whether this was a betrayal to Chris. But no, Mary had been very firm in her declaration that anything that had been between her and Chris was no more.

Any lingering doubts Vin had, he managed to lock away in a part of his head where he could forget about them. When death came knocking on a man's door and he manages to slip out the back way just in time, well, a man needed to embrace life after an experience like that. Being with Mary like this made him feel more than alive; it gave joy to his being.

Vin brushed his lips against hers once more, then once more again. Slowly, he drew away from her, his eyes opening gradually, his expression showing a bit of trepidation at what her reaction to his kisses would be.

A warm smile graced Mary's countenance and Vin felt a shudder of relief pass through him. He smiled at her in turn and Mary wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head to his shoulder. Vin angled his head down to rub his cheek against her silken hair.

Mary released a soft, satisfied sigh. "If this is the effect you have on me when you're in your sickbed, I can't imagine what you'd do to me when you're feeling all right."

A rich chuckle rose from Vin's chest. "Truth be told, Mary, I'm near done worn out now."

"You need rest." Mary started to pull away from him but Vin restrained her with a gentle hold.

"No, stay with me?" he entreated in a whisper. He didn't even know where Mary had bedded down the past night, but he knew this night he wanted her to sleep in his arms.

"I will," Mary breathed, snuggling in closer to him once more. Vin lay back on the narrow bed, bearing Mary down with him. She shifted around so they would both fit, laying her head on his chest and winding an arm about his middle. Her skirts flowed over his legs like a second covering, though they needed no blanket with the warmth of their bodies so tightly pressed together.

If Vin's wounded thigh ached at all, he didn't feel it.

*****

First light came with a swiftness that Buck could have done without. He felt like he'd managed only a few moments of sleep and those had been far from restful. He wasn't sure if Chris had slept at all. They crossed over the wooden bridge by the mill in silence and then hesitated facing the trail.

"No sign of them along that way." Buck gestured towards the path which they'd taken to get from Four Corners in such haste. It was the same route he and JD had used as well; the fastest, but not the easiest.

"Vin probably took her via Burkette's Oasis," Chris commented. "There's a hotel there."

Buck nodded. "Makes sense he'd do that."

Without further discussion they decided that was the best place to start their search and turned their horses. It was a bright enough day, with a bit of a breeze teasing the leaves in the trees along the river's edge. Buck could hardly believe that a storm had ravaged through here just two days ago. But the evidence of that storm was obvious all along the trail.

One of the main tributaries beyond the river had flooded. Even though the water had receded, the debris from the washout was left behind. Not far from where the two streams collided some rope and wooden slats lay jumbled on the bank.

Buck stopped his horse to look carefully at the rubble. The remains of a bridge, he decided. 'Hope no one was on it.' Almost before the thought was complete he caught sight of the body.

"Chris!"

Chris turned back from where he'd ridden ahead of Buck. He could see Buck had dismounted and was examining something down in the mud of the riverbank. Chris's stomach lurched when his eyes distinguished a leg from the dark mass. He approached cautiously.

"It's not Vin," Buck said swiftly, noting how pale Chris had become. "Could be one of Ella's missing men, you think?"

Chris eyed the dead man with dispassion. "Possibly," he guessed. "Let's keep moving."

By mid-morning they'd found two other bodies, both definitely showing signs of having died by violence rather than nature. They had gotten to the point where the bridge must have been, seeing evidence of the moorings on the other bank.

Chris looked up and down the river seeking some sign that Vin and Mary had come this way, something beyond another dead body.

"We're pretty far off the main trail here, Chris," Buck mused. "Maybe we should head up the slope to get back to the road."

"No," Chris said shortly. "Those men weren't shot by someone from the road."

"Chris, this placed washed out. Vin wouldn't take Mary down into a river about to flood; he'd know better."

"Vin'd do what needed doing to get her away from those men," Chris said. "And being shot at is certainly a reason to leave the main road."

Chris eyed the remains of the bridge, dangling from posts that now listed sharply downstream.

"Let's try the other side," he suggested to Buck, already moving into the water.

The crossing wasn't easy and Buck inwardly cursed that Chris hadn't even attempted to find a gentler route. But the horses were strong and the current not nearly as hostile as it had been, so they eventually made it safely to the far bank.

"Check down there," Chris instructed, "and I'll circle 'round that way."

Buck tipped his hat in acknowledgement and patted his horse's neck. "Fine day for a swim, eh boy?"

*****

Vin woke to find Mary gone and daylight streaming in through the open door of the cabin. He sat up slowly, stretching and reaching for the canteen placed on the bedside table. Drinking down the warm yet still refreshing water, Vin assessed his state of being.

He felt much more like his regular self, having gotten a comfortable night's sleep. His contented slumber had more to do with who had been sleeping at his side than the recuperation of his health. Vin smiled at the thought; it was almost as though he could still feel Mary's soft, sweet body nestled in beside him. He felt like whistling a tune, or even dancing a jig, which was absurd for a man who had just suffered a fever and a gunshot wound.

Nevertheless, Vin swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood slowly, testing his strength. When it appeared he wouldn't immediately keel back over he limped to the doorway, beside which he spied his shirt hooked over a peg in the wall.

He could walk with an awkward gait, but not rest too much weight on his bad leg without it paining him. Overall, he felt much stronger, and seemed to have gotten rid of the occasional dizziness that had plagued him the night before. 'Course that lightheadedness might just have been a result of kissing Mary. Vin shrugged on his shirt, but didn't bother with the effort of buttoning it up. During the past days Mary had seen his bare chest often enough. He didn't think she'd take much more notice of it now.

Vin squinted in the sunlight as he stepped from the cabin. As his eyes adjusted he saw that Mary was tending a pot hung over the fire pit. Vin hesitated a moment before announcing his presence. He was a bit apprehensive over how she would greet him this morning. Last night when she'd come so willingly into his embrace she'd been exhausted by mental stress and bodily fatigue. Maybe she had just reacted to him the way she did out of a need for comfort and a respite from her worry. Today she'd realize her folly, Vin thought with a resigned sadness. She'd tell him in her gracious and gentle way what had passed between them last night, while special to her, would not be repeated.

Grabbing his shirttails Vin began hastily tucking the garment into his trousers. He should not be assuming such familiarity with Mary.

At that moment she looked up. Saw him. Smiled. Her face lit with a brightness to rival the sun.

Vin's hands stopped their movements. His heart lurched in his chest, knocking away his self-doubt.

"Good morning," said Mary cheerily, straightening from where she was bent over the fire. Brushing her hands on her skirt she made her way over to his side from where she smiled up at him and asked, "How did you sleep?"

A lazy smile curved Vin's lips. "I slept mighty fine," he drawled out softly.

"So did I," Mary agreed, with a touch of coyness.

Then she blushed.

Vin was amazed when he saw the colour rise prettily on her cheeks. This was Mary Travis. This was a woman whom he first really took note of when she was standing up to a group of lowlifes in the middle of the street, shotgun in her arms, single-handedly attempting to save Nathan from a lynching. Now she was blushing as a result of his attentions. He could hardly credit it.

"I've got some potatoes cooking for breakfast," Mary was saying. "Let me help you over to the fire."

"I reckon I can make it on my own," Vin told her. "Leg's feelin' a lot better this mornin'."

"But I don't mind." Mary slipped an arm around his waist and placed her other hand on his chest to steady him as they walked.

"Then I don't either." Vin grinned as he draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer than was strictly necessary for assistance with walking.

After Mary had Vin settled on a large upturned log beside the fire she served him up some food on a cracked and chipped plate, obviously left behind by the occupants of the homestead. She then took a matching seat, a cup of water in her hands.

"Now if we only had some coffee, this would be perfect," Vin said, despite the fact that he was eating breakfast with his hands.

Mary agreed. "But whoever used to live here didn't leave anything like that behind. I guess they took some time to pack up before they left."

"Wonder what made 'em go?" mused Vin as he took a better look around.

Mary was doing the same. Her eyes moved from the small cabin, to the animal shelter, to the well and vegetable garden, off to the line of trees in front of the cabin and then to the mountains just visible beyond.

"I bet they were sorry to leave," Mary pronounced softly. "It sure is beautiful."

"Sure is," Vin assented, his gaze resting firmly on Mary and not on the scenery beyond.

Mary turned back to him with a benign smile. "I think we might be here for at least another day. I took a look at the river earlier and it's still running very fast. I don't think we can cross it, not with your injured leg and without horses."

While a part of Vin didn't want to leave the secluded mountain home - ever - he knew Mary's friend in Miller's Creek might be worried now that Mary's arrival was more than a day overdue. The woman might even have wired Four Corners if she was overly concerned, causing worry about them back home too. Best to try and be on their way as soon as possible, Vin decided.

"Think I'll go have a look myself," Vin said, rising to his feet. Mary was at his side in an instant. As she put her arm around him her fingers touched a certain spot at his side and he flinched away from her slightly.

"Did I hurt you?" Mary asked, alarmed.

"No." Vin shook his head but when she grasped him in the same place he pulled away again. This time Mary saw him try to suppress a laugh.

"Vin Tanner!" Mary cried in delight. "You're ticklish!"

"No Mary, I ain't," insisted Vin.

"Liar!" Mary called him as her mischievous fingers found that certain spot at his waist again.

Vin hopped away from the onslaught as well as an injured man could. "Watch it," he warned, "this here's a game two can play."

Mary danced away from his reach. Or so she thought. Vin suddenly made a leap forward on his good leg and snared Mary in his grasp.

She screamed and then her cry dissolved into giggles as Vin hauled her against him, with her back to his chest. His arms encircled her, locking her own arms to her sides. As his fingers began teasing at her waistline Mary bent forward to try and break free of Vin's hold. He was bent over with her, his chin resting on her shoulder as they succumbed to helpless laughter.

Then unexpectedly, directly in front of them, was a dusty pair of boots topped by black-clad legs. All merriment ceased as they slowly looked up to meet Chris Larabee's cold eyes.

"Chris!" Mary gasped, taking a step toward him when Vin released her from his arms.

It might have been carved from granite, so hard was Chris's face. Mary moved only two paces before Chris's expression froze her in her tracks.

"You're alive," he ground out, with no inflection to his words. That said, he spun on his heel and stalked off back around the cabin, black duster flying in his wake.

Mary hurriedly took a few steps after him, but then stopped and turned back around to Vin. The tracker had a look of uneasiness about him.

"You go on," Vin told her, gesturing with his chin in the direction Chris had gone. "I'll be right behind you."

Nodding, Mary set off in pursuit of Chris once more. Vin hobbled along behind her, buttoning his shirt up as he went.

Mary caught up with Chris as he was pulling the reins of his horse from where they were wrapped around a tree in front of the cabin.

"Chris!" she called to him and when he ignored her she grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Mary as Chris wrenched his arm from her touch. "How did you know where to find us?"

Vin rounded the corner of the cabin in time to hear Chris's reply.

"I followed a trail of bodies I thought might end with yours."

In her confusion and mounting anger at Chris's demeanor, Mary didn't notice how Chris's face tightened with anguish at that statement. Mary tried to sort through the facts for him.

"We were attacked by bandits, or maybe they were bounty hunters after Vin," she said quickly. "There was a storm and a flash flood and the bridge washed out and Vin was hurt and we ended up here. But how did you know to come looking for us?"

"Because I've just been to Miller's Creek," Chris bit out, "where I paid a visit to Ella Gaines."

Ella Gaines! Vin sucked in his breath at the name; it echoed in Mary's head.

Ella Gaines in Miller's Creek! Mary's mind drew a rapid conclusion to what that revelation meant. No wonder Chris hadn't wanted her to go to Miller's Creek. No wonder when he couldn't dissuade her from making the journey he had tried to get her to wait until he could accompany her. Apparently whatever had set Chris to brooding after his last encounter with Ella had been set to rights and she was back in his life again.

"That explains so much," Mary said, her voice now quiet, but her body fairly quivering with ire...or betrayal.

Chris eyed Mary, and Vin saw a flicker of - could it be pain? - cross his face before he turned his head away, mouth compressed in a hard line.

Vin put a comforting hand to Mary's arm but he continued to watch Chris as he said, "I don't think you understand, Mary."

"I think I understand perfectly." Mary yanked her arm from Vin's light hold and after shooting a final glare in Chris's direction, whirled around and marched back off toward the rear of the house.

Concern lit Vin's eyes as he watched her go, but he turned his attention back to Chris in time to see the other man's gaze flash from Mary's retreating form back to the fast moving waters of the river.

"Where's Ella now?" Vin asked.

"Behind bars," replied Chris, not meeting the other man's eyes.

Vin hid a sigh of relief. He'd been afraid Chris was going to tell him he'd killed Ella. As much as the woman deserved to pay for her crimes, Vin didn't think Chris would find solace in effecting her death sentence himself.

"What was she doin' in Miller's Creek?" Vin asked.

"Running the newspaper," said Chris with a clipped tone.

Vin's eyes widened with realization. "So those weren't bounty hunters after us."

"Nope."

"You never told Mary 'bout Ella," Vin stated as fact. "Maybe you'd better, help her to understand."

"Why don't you tell her." Chris finally leveled a cool gaze at Vin. "You seem to have gotten rather close."

"Chris..." Vin began, but he was interrupted.

"Not now!" Chris spat out. He snatched the reins from the tree and vaulted atop his horse, urging the animal forward to splash across the river.

Vin watched him go, his gut churning with upset for Chris, for Mary, hell, even for himself, when a sound to his right caught his attention.

He turned to see Buck coming out from beyond the tree line. The other man's eyes lit up as he noticed Vin.

"Well there ya are!" Buck grinned widely. "We've been mighty worried about ya. Is Mary okay?"

"Not now, Buck," Vin shook his head and set off after Mary.

Buck watched him go, confused. Then he sank down to the ground, his back resting against a sturdy tree.

"Man," he muttered. "I gotta get me some real sleep soon."

*****

Vin found Mary at the rear of the cabin, standing with her arms wrapped around herself, staring off into nothing. It was clear she was upset, but for the wrong reasons.

She was hurting, because she thought Chris was romantically involved with another woman. Hurting, because she was in love with Chris, Vin knew. He couldn't deny the obvious. No matter if the truth hurt him too.

"Mary," he said softly, touching her arm lightly when she seemed oblivious to his presence.

"If you've come to apologize for Chris, don't bother. I deserve better than that from him," Mary declared curtly.

"There's a lot here you don't know 'bout. Come sit down and let me tell you what you need to know," Vin appealed to her.

Mary didn't reply but nor did she protest when Vin pulled gently on her arm to lead her over to the fire. This time, she didn't offer any assistance with walking to Vin.

When they were seated Mary studied the fire, and Vin studied Mary. She was going to be shocked by his revelation, as it was definitely something she was not expecting. But Vin didn't know any way other to tell her except to speak plainly.

"When we were all out at Ella Gaines' ranch that time a while back, Chris found out somethin' 'bout Ella. He found out Ella was the one responsible for the murder of his wife and son."

Mary's eyes flew to his. "What do you mean?"

"There's somethin' 'bout Ella that's not right. She don't think proper. She thought if she got rid of Chris's family, he'd be hers again, so she had his family killed," Vin explained grimly.

Mary brought a hand to her chest, as though trying to stop her heart from racing. Her eyes squeezed closed. "Dear God!" she breathed.

Vin sat with her in silent vigil until Mary turned back to him and spoke again.

"Where is Ella now? Is she...?" Mary struggled with the words. "Did Chris...?"

"Ella's in jail," Vin told her.

Mary exhaled sharply. "What was she doing in Miller's Creek?"

Vin hesitated, knowing his response would be alarming. But, if anyone was strong enough to take the news, it was Mary.

"She was runnin' the newspaper."

A look of confusion crossed Mary's features. "That can't be right. The newspaper in Miller's Creek is run by a Mrs. Campbell. That's who I was going to...oh!"

Mary's eyes widened in horror. Vin just nodded.

"Oh Chris," Mary whispered softly.

Vin watched Mary's reaction to the news that Ella had staged an elaborate ploy to lure her to Miller's Creek. He wasn't surprised to see that rather than being troubled that her life had been on the line, she was upset by what the situation would mean to Chris. Ella had once again tried to rid herself of a rival for Chris Larabee's affections. On top of everything else she'd done, that had to lie heavy on Chris's mind. And his heart.

"Mary, I know things ain't been right between you and Chris, and I know I told you that maybe you shouldn't be together if you weren't happy. But I was wrong. An' I reckon Chris needs you right now."

"What about you?" Mary asked him sadly.

"I reckon I got no right to hold onto a heart that don't belong to me. An' I think we both know where your heart is." Vin gave her a reassuring smile. "That's all right by me."

Mary shook her head, but whether in protest or to clear her thoughts, Vin didn't know. She didn't offer any explanation but asked, "Where is Chris?"

"He'll be back soon," Vin told her, hoping it was true. "Buck's here. I think I'd better go have a word with him. I was kinda rude to him back a moment ago."

Mary nodded.

"You gonna be okay?" Vin questioned.

Mary nodded again. "Go."

Vin smiled again as he turned away, leaving Mary to her thoughts at the fire. He didn't let his smile falter until he had rounded the cabin out of her sight. Then the sorrowfulness stole across his face.

*****

The sun was low in the sky by the time Chris made it back to where the footbridge had once been. He stopped his horse and regarded the turbulent water stoically. The two horses he'd brought with him from Miller's Creek immediately began nibbling at the sparse vegetation near the river's edge. Chris watched as a leaf, sucked in from somewhere upstream, twirled and spun in the angry current; submerging now and again to continue its path.

Chris felt he had about as much control of his life as that leaf did its journey downstream. None at all.

It wasn't even so much the cruel hands of fate or divine intervention that complicated things. It was other people. He had no power over people like Ella, whose insanity had brought violence to his home. He held no sway over Mary Travis, whose determination seemed destined to put her in harm's way. He could not predict the actions of Vin Tanner, whose rugged capability hid a gentle heart.

Basically, Chris felt like he was just along for the ride. Being carried through events as helpless as that damned leaf. He was damned tired.

He couldn't really blame Mary for seeking comfort in another man's arms, not after he'd been such an ass. She deserved to be cared for by someone who wasn't so afraid of feeling...that way. If it had been any other man she'd turned to, he wondered if it would hurt as much. But it wasn't just any man, it was Vin, and that only added another knife to the wound.

He could still see them in his mind's eye. He'd heard them before coming around the corner and their laughter, so incongruous with the horrific possibilities he'd pondered since coming across that first body, had stopped him in his tracks. He'd seen that Vin was wounded; the blood and ripped trouser leg were ample evidence. Clearly though, the man was far from death, his arms wrapped around Mary not for protection but for affection.

They were so alive that Chris ached.

He'd nearly laughed. In an instant all his worry, the horrible anxiety that Ella's men had hurt them, that they'd been shot or stabbed or...burned, it all seemed too absurd. Because nothing evil had befallen them. They were tickling each other and laughing. Chris had walked through hell, dragging poor Buck behind him every step of the way, and they were not only alive but loving one another.

What cruel god was laughing at him in jest now?

Chris was tired of anger and hate. He couldn't feel anything but numb at this new development. After all he'd just been through, after all Ella had done... Well, Ella had managed to do just about everything to him but kill him. So maybe he'd have the last laugh after all.

What was it he'd told Billy? Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just keep living.

"C'mon," he told his horse. Picking up the slack on the other two, he pushed on into the river to cross to the homestead.

*****

The scene that greeted Chris was much more somber than the one he'd found that morning. The three of them were outside, around the fire pit, but sitting apart, managing to maintain a distance while sticking together.

Chris dismounted and led the three horses over to where Buck's was calmly grazing. He was acutely aware of three pairs of eyes following his movements. Finally, Buck hopped up to wander over.

"Hey Chris," he said, keeping his voice quiet yet allowing it to carry back to the other two. "What happened with Ella?"

Chris didn't acknowledge Vin or Mary but focused on Buck. "She's gone," he said simply.

Vin drew a sharp breath and looked around into the growing evening shadows as though he expected the woman to creep out of the darkness.

"Gone?" Buck's brow wrinkled with concern. "Gone where?"

Chris shrugged with a disinterest that alarmed Buck. "I haven't the faintest idea. She managed to con her way outta that cell and after that it's anyone's guess really. She was last seen with folks on a wagon heading north but who knows how long she'll stay with them."

"And you're okay with that?" Buck couldn't believe how eerily calm Chris was.

"No, I'm not okay with it!" snapped Chris with a flash of characteristic impatience. "I'd like nothing more than to be sure that bitch is never able to hurt anyone again! But there's not a damn thing I can do about it now so we may as well go home."

"You're not...?"

Chris whirled with surprise, not having noticed Mary's approach. Her steps faltered and she remained halfway between them and the fire.

"You're not going after her?" asked Mary uneasily.

Chris's eyes bored into her with such intensity Mary thought he must see clean through to her soul. Then his gaze flickered to somewhere behind her, where Vin was coming unsteadily to his feet.

"I'll go with you, if you like, Chris," Vin offered softly. "She won't get away from us this time."

Chris regarded him soberly for a moment and then looked back at Mary.

"No," he said quietly. "I got better things to do than hunt her down."

Vin nodded shortly and eased himself back down. He exchanged a look with Buck who had been watching Chris with some concern. Then Buck smiled at Vin, and winked, so Vin relaxed somewhat.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the foursome while Chris ate some supper. Flames from the firelight seemed to have captured everyone's thoughts. Buck was in a near doze from the warmth and quiet when Vin nudged him.

"Bucklin, give me a hand here; I'm not so steady on my feet."

Buck immediately rose to assist Vin in hobbling around to the front of the homestead where they paused. Buck looked back from where they'd come and then frowned.

"What exactly are we doing over here, pard?"

Vin inclined his head and leaned against the wall. "Providin' some space."

Buck sat down at the corner of the cabin with a small groan. "You got something you wanna tell ol' Buck?" he asked with a grin.

Vin ducked his head, hoping the darkness hid his blush. "You wanna tell me what happened with Chris and Ella?" he threw back at his friend.

Buck immediately sobered as he recalled the scene in Miller's Creek where Chris held Ella by her hair. "I thought he was going to kill her. I thought he would..." His voice trailed off. He cleared his throat and looked up at Vin. "But you know, it was the damnedest thing, like all this time he'd built her up to be this...this monster of an enemy. Somethin' to whip his revenge on, you know? And then there, in the street, she was suddenly just a twisted woman, not right in the head. Not even worthy of his bullet."

"That sounds mighty hard to believe," Vin said slowly. "After all she done."

Buck chuckled softly. "Not that I don't think he'd like to see her hang." He sighed. "Well, not this time, I guess."

"I was thinkin' of maybe heading out early in the mornin'," Vin said, looking beyond Buck towards the river. "There's still some banditos need roundin' up."

"You okay for that sorta activity there?" Buck tapped lightly on Vin's injured leg.

Vin shrugged.

"Want backup?"

"Nah, I won't try to take 'em down or nothin'. Jus' figure out where they're at, is all."

'Providing space,' thought Buck sadly. 'And how much space are you going to give them, Vin?' But aloud all he said was, "You watch your back now."

*****

Chris watched as Buck and Vin wandered over to the cabin and disappeared around the corner. Then he returned his attention to the tin mug he held in both hands and listened to the fire. A rustling of skirts alerted him to Mary's movement and then suddenly she was beside him on the log.

"Vin told me about Ella," Mary finally said. Even though he'd known this, Chris felt himself grow tense. "I'm sorry." Mary's apology hung in the air as she hesitated, a little uncertain exactly why she was sorry.

Chris tossed the remaining contents of the mug away and placed it on the ground by his feet.

"Yeah, well..."

"I mean, I'm sorry she's responsible for such grief but also I'm sorry for causing you to worry," Mary clarified.

"It wasn't your fault," Chris said gruffly.

"That's wise counsel," she told him ruefully. Cautiously, she reached out to take his hand in both of hers, disturbed that she couldn't read his expression in the low light. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I feel I owe you an explanation about what you saw earlier. With Vin," she added unnecessarily.

Chris glanced sharply in the direction Vin and Buck had gone, hoping one or the other, or preferably both, would return.

"It wasn't how it looked. Well, I guess it was, but it isn't..." She broke off. "I'm really making a mess of this. For a woman who makes her living with words I'm having a hard time finding them to explain." She covered her face with one hand, leaving the other with fingers entwined in Chris's.

"Mary." He squeezed her hand gently. "You don't owe me any explanation."

Mary sighed, the sound seeming to convey a sense of sadness that confused Chris. "Maybe I don't," she said. "But I still wanted you to understand that despite our momentary lapse in propriety Vin and I are only friends."

"Huh." Chris couldn't help the small sound of surprise. "Does Vin know that?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes," Mary said with a confident nod.

Chris wasn't sure how to respond to this so he stayed quiet for a few minutes, wondering what had transpired to change the situation from the laughing and teasing affection he'd witnessed earlier.

'You showed up, Larabee. That's what happened.'

"Why do you think Ella picked me?" asked Mary suddenly.

Chris stole a glance at her; she was watching the fire.

"I thought Vin explained that Ella..."

"Oh, he explained," interrupted Mary. "I'm just curious as to how she identified me as a target."

Chris didn't voice his opinion on that, but Mary felt his fingers tighten ever so slightly on hers.

"What did she see, I wonder?" mused Mary. "How could she know something I've never been sure of?"

"She's crazy?" offered Chris with an attempt at a grin. His grin never fully formed and turned more into a grimace.

"Am I crazy to think you care?" asked Mary softly. "Or am I just right?"

"Mary," whispered Chris in a choked voice. He closed his eyes. "I can't...I can't..."

Mary moved closer then, crouching down by his knees so she was looking up at his face.

"You can," she assured him. She stroked his cheek with her free hand. She shook her head slowly and smiled. "You do."

His eyes came open then, glistening a little in the firelight, and in them she saw a portion of the anguish he'd lived in the past few days.

"If anything ever happened to you 'cause of me..." His voice trailed off. "I just don't think I could go through that again."

"Well, then she's won," Mary said sharply. "Hasn't she? Even without having you for herself she's ensured that no other will have you."

"No other will die 'cause of me," Chris returned coldly. "No other will suffer 'cause of me."

"No one," agreed Mary. "Except you."

Chris shook his head, bowing it down. Stalemate then and suddenly Mary felt herself grow cold with anger against the woman who so scarred this man that he feared his own feelings. She would not let Ella Gaines win this battle!

"Chris, if we are to have only a short time together in this life then so be it. But at least let us be happy. We should cherish each moment given, take nothing for granted. And we should not walk in fear, never in fear." Her voice was almost fierce with its intensity. "Otherwise we may as well be standing still. We may as well just shoot ourselves right now and save Ella, or anyone else, the trouble of tracking us down!"

Mary reached out to lift his chin, needing to see his eyes once again.

"Do you love me, Chris?"

"So much," he whispered.

"Ella nearly had me killed for that feeling whether you acted on it or not," she pointed out. When he turned his head away, she tugged on his chin to pull him back. "That's the only thing to regret, Chris Larabee. Not your action, but your inaction."

He lifted his hand to bring hers down from his face. His expression was sad but she thought she could see a small smile.

"You won't be made a victim," he said softly, reminding her of her own words.

Mary lifted her chin with a familiar defiance. "Absolutely not!" Now she was sure she saw a smile but wanted more than anything to make it reach his eyes. "And I have seven gallant men who will protect me from all harm."

His mouth twitched with his grin.

"Seven, huh."

"Yes, and they are a fearsome lot."

"I'll bet," he drawled. "I'll just bet they are."

"In fact," Mary twisted around as though looking for someone in the shadows beyond the ring of light cast by the fire, "I think a couple of them are around here somewhere so you'd better be careful or they might..."

Whatever else Mary was going to say was lost as Chris stood abruptly, carrying her up with him. The movement, both in its fluidity and economy of motion, might have taken her breath away, had it not already been stolen by the kiss as he pressed his mouth to hers.

Chris wrapped his arms around her, one along her lower back and the other caressing her shoulder. His embrace was gentle yet firm, and she could feel a repressed strength in his muscles. She instinctively put her own arms around him and melted into his chest, marvelling at how easily their bodies fit together, just so. She was thankful for the strength of his arms suddenly, for their support to hold her up as she was no longer able to do so herself.

He pulled back slightly, still supporting her, still leaning close enough so that their noses brushed. He brought his arms up to rest along her shoulder blades, sinking his fingers into her hair. His lips moved against her cheeks while his thumbs rubbed her ear lobes.

'I must look a fright,' thought Mary suddenly, amused that her state of dishevelment should come to her attention now.

Almost as though he'd read her mind Chris whispered, "So beautiful, so beautiful." The words were spoken so softly that had she not felt his breath on her cheek she might have wondered if he'd said them aloud. Maybe he hadn't and she'd read his mind as well.

She didn't have time to ponder this as Chris tightened the embrace, once more bringing his lips to hers.

Mary was a little breathless by the time he pulled away again. She gasped slightly at the intensity. This turned into a small yelp when Chris shifted his weight and leaned down to scoop her up into his arms. He sat back down on the log, changing positions so that her weight was on his lap, with one arm holding her back. This left his other arm free to bring up his fingers to make delicate, feather like touches to her face, her neck, and down the long strands of her hair.

He buried his face in her hair then, nuzzling at her ear just where it met her neck. Mary became aware that he was rocking slightly, his lips moving as he spoke in a mantra. She could barely make out the words.

"You're alive...alive...alive. You're alive. You're alive..."

She realized then that despite their positions he was seeking comfort from her. So she pulled him close to her, stoked his hair and rubbed his back. She murmured nonsensical words to soothe him, just as she would her son when he was unhappy or frightened from a nightmare.

Then after a long moment she slid off his lap to sit on the log and brought her legs over to plant her feet firmly on the ground. She linked her arm through his and brought her other hand to rest on his chest. Leaning her head on his shoulder she sighed, this time with such obvious contentment that Chris chuckled a little. She looked up at his face, her expression a question. He chuckled again and disengaged his arm to wrap it around her waist, drawing her closer. She could feel his heart beating and took comfort in it.

"You, Mrs. Travis, are a remarkable lady," he told her.

"And you, Mr. Larabee, are a very special man."

Chris felt a tug of obligation to talk to Vin as the other two returned to the warmth of the fire later. But the younger man wouldn't meet his gaze and avoided any contact. Truth was, Chris wasn't sure what he'd say, which made it easy to put off the conversation until the morning.

But when they awoke in the chilly dawn, Vin was already gone.

*****

After a week of scouting, Vin rode back into Four Corners. He felt dusty, grimy from the trail, and he wanted to wash up and put on a fresh set of clothes. Then he wanted to ease his parched throat with a bottle of whisky, preferably one to be shared among friends.

A visit to the bathhouse saw to his first two needs, then Vin headed on over to the saloon. Though still early in the evening, the place was lively as usual. Vin stood just inside the entrance and peered through a curtain of smoke and shifting bodies moving from tables to bar and back again.

He spotted his friends at their customary table. Vin grinned. It looked like Ezra once again had Josiah, Nathan and JD engaged in a poker game. Buck seemed to be offering JD unsolicited advice. Chris sat back in his chair, appearing relaxed as though he was enjoying the camaraderie.

Vin hesitated on his way to the table. He hadn't spoken with Chris before he'd lit out early that morning from the cabin. He sincerely hoped that Chris and Mary had made right what was between them, but he was suddenly unsure of what his welcome back on the scene would be.

He looked with longing at the table of men who were laughing and having a good time in each other's company, but then turned in his path to go directly to the bar, his steps now firm on a mostly healed leg. If he and Chris were to have words he didn't want to have them right there in front of the others.

Vin's whiskey had just been placed on the bar when the black-clad man drew up alongside him.

"Evenin' Chris." Vin acknowledged his presence, turning to him with a nod.

"You're back," Chris stated blandly. Vin couldn't tell if his tone held animosity or not.

"Yup. Picked up the trail of the bandits east of Miller's and followed it to the mountains. Didn't catch up with 'em, but I reckon they're gone from these parts." As he spoke his eyes held Chris's, studying him.

The other man's steely gaze was intent upon Vin's. Chris gave a curt nod at the explanation and said, "Shouldn't you be someplace else?"

Vin's heart sank. It was just as he had feared. After what had passed between him and Mary, Chris didn't even want him drinking under the same roof as he was.

"I'll go," he said morosely, tossing back what remained of his drink and setting the glass on the counter. "I'll pack up my things and be gone in the mornin'."

Chris's brow creased in puzzlement. "No. I mean, it's Tuesday night. Don't you have a regular appointment with Mary on Tuesday nights?"

His reading lesson! Chris was talking about his reading lesson! Vin hid a shudder of relief that passed through him as warmth trickled back into his limbs.

"Right. I do have an appointment. Guess I shouldn't keep Mary waitin'?"

"Nope," Chris replied.

"Right." Vin turned away from the bar and took a step toward the door.

"And when you're done," Chris said, stopping Vin in his tracks. Maybe Chris hadn't forgiven him. Maybe he just wanted him to go to the lesson for Mary's sake. Vin stood still, not turning back toward Chris.

"When you're done," Chris continued, "you come on back here and we'll share a bottle and you can tell me all about tracking those bandits."

Vin turned around then to meet Chris's smile and gave his friend one of his own. His friend. Thank God.

*****

Though the autumn night had a chill to it, Mary stood outside on the boardwalk in front of the newspaper office, shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She must have been watching the street, waiting for him.

"Mary," Vin said in greeting as he came close enough to see her in the soft light spilling out from the window behind her. He touched his fingers to the brim of his hat in his customary gesture.

She offered him a cautious smile. "I wasn't sure if you'd come tonight."

"I didn't reckon I was gonna," Vin said truthfully.

"Well I’m pleased you did." Mary's smile broadened to reach her eyes.

"Things good now between you an' Chris?" Vin asked. He needed to know. He'd left to give them time to sort things out between them, and he wanted them to be happy. He cared for both of them that much.

"Yes," Mary replied and Vin saw the joy that lit her eyes momentarily. But then that emotion was blinked away by concern. "Vin," she began, shaking her head, "I'm so sorry - "

"Shh," Vin said softly, cutting her off. "None o' that, Mary."

Mary opened her mouth as though to say more, but the firm set of Vin's expression quieted her and she turned her head away to stare out into the darkness.

The silence between them lasted only a moment until Vin could form his thoughts into words.

"I know of a plant called an evenin' primrose. You ever seen one?" he queried.

If Mary was startled by the turn in conversation she didn't show it. She merely turned her gaze back to Vin and shook her head.

"Evenin' primrose is a different sort a plant on account of it's got flowers that only come out at night," explained Vin. "Right at dusk, jus' before it's gonna get dark, the flowers open on up. They only live for one night, but watchin' them unfold, witnessin' their beauty, it's like magic. An' to see them that one night is enough."

Vin's voice lowered, the soft tones raining gently over Mary. "That one night is enough, Mary."

She knew he wasn't talking about the flowers any longer.

"I’m glad," Mary said, meeting Vin's warm and frank blue eyes. She touched his arm lightly before drawing her hand away.

Vin gave her a small smile and a barely perceptible nod. "So have you got any new books for my lesson?" he asked in a lighter tone.

"I do! I have one by a new author named Mark Twain. I think you'll like it," Mary replied as Vin ushered her inside the door to the newspaper office.

Down the street, a figure melted out of the shadows. Chris Larabee smiled, and went back into the saloon to finish his drink.

The End!

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