Buck made his way through the sloppy streets and stepped lightly onto the jailhouse porch. He pushed the door open slowly, hoping to catch his prey unaware. He caught sight of the sleeping figure, his chair tipped against the wall, hat over his face.

Buck frowned – his plan to scare the bejeeus out of J.D. ruined. He decided to make the best of the situation and crept slowly up to Vin. He grinned to himself as he moved his foot to sweep the chair from beneath the reclining body.

"You stop now and I might find a reason not to shoot ‘cha."

"Dang it, Vin! You ain’t no fun." Buck moved away as Vin straightened his hat and leaned forward, the legs of the chair landing heavily on the wooden floor.

"Where’s the kid?"

"Good question, Buck. He ‘s supposed to ‘ave relieved me after supper."

"Prob’ly got hung up over at old man Weaver’s place – you know how that boy loses all track of time."

"Well, Weaver’s wife prob’ly wouldn’t let him leave out in the rain anyways."

"Damn. I’ll bet he’s eatin’ his weight in homemade biscuits and gravy, ham and potatoes, apple pie…" Buck let his voice drift with his thoughts.

"Yep. I reckon they might enjoy havin’ another face at the table."

"I bet he’s already talked their ears off. Them and every head of livestock within hearing range." Buck chuckled, but a wave of sadness washed over him as he thought of the horrible tragedy the Weavers were still suffering. Buck’s voice softened. "I figure Beth’ll have J.D. adopted ‘fore the night is over."

Vin stood up, stretching and yawning loudly. "Guess they’ll be sendin’ him back soon as they find out they’d have to make room for you too."

"Ha! It’d be a relief to let somebody else watch after that kid for a change." Buck tried to laugh off Vin’s comment, but he knew it was true. Didn’t know why he even tried to deny it anymore, except from habit maybe.

Buck watched as Vin grabbed his coat off the desk and he realized he was about to be left babysitting the lone prisoner snoozing in the far cell. Buck quickly maneuvered his way between Vin and the door.

"Well, I’ll see ya in the morning, pard." Buck grinned and tipped his hat as he slipped out into the damp air.

"Hey, I been here all day!" Vin followed him onto the porch.

"And you’ve done a fine job, Vin, a fine job." Buck winked as he backed down the steps and into the street. "I’m sure J.D.’ll come draggin’ in real soon. Maybe you should try and get some more shut eye, you’re lookin’ a little peaked."

"That’s what I was plannin’ on, just not sittin’ in that hard ass chair!"

"Sorry, Vin, I’d love to help you out, but, uh, I think Chris wanted to talk to me ‘bout somethin’- real important too." Buck hoped the fib sounded legitimate enough to get him out of Vin’s sight. He felt for the man, truly he did, but he had a prior engagement back at the hotel. And she was a hell of a lot prettier than Chris Larabee.

---

PART 4

Dirt rained down on him, filling his eyes and mouth as he yelled, but he couldn’t detect the sound of his own voice. He spat out the earth fighting its way into his throat and tried to scream louder, but still nothing. He could see Buck and Chris above him. Buck was standing at the top of the hole, his hat held against his chest, his eyes shut tight and J.D. was sure he was crying.

"Buck! I ain’t dead, please hear me!" His cries were little more than a whisper in his own ears and he clawed at the walls surrounding him. If they couldn’t hear him then he’d have to crawl out on his own. Dirt crumbled beneath his fingers as he watched Chris lift the shovel and deposit another mound on his upturned face. J.D. waved his arms in desperation as darkness enveloped him; dust and grit clogged his lungs, cutting off his air. He felt the increasing weight as more earth dropped on top of him and he realized he was suffocating, buried alive and dying alone in this pit with his friends only a few feet away.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He’d come out west with dreams of being a hero, but he’d found something better – a family. A family that showed him life was worth fighting for. He struggled violently, determined to make them see he wasn’t giving up; so maybe they wouldn’t give up on him.

J.D. woke himself up screaming.

The brightness of the morning sun had yet to send their warming rays into the hell he’d found himself trapped in and he shivered violently. Yep, he was still alive. He let out a distressed laugh and a cough erupted from deep within his chest. J.D. squeezed his eyes tight and leaned heavily on the wall of his prison, panting from the effort and begging himself not to do that again. Pain reverberated through his chest and J.D. was sure having his breastbone ripped open with a pick ax couldn’t hurt as much.

He might not be dead, but J.D. knew another day in this hole and he would be. He already realized he would soon be too weak to get himself out; hell, he might not even have the strength now. His head throbbed, his injured leg protested each minute movement and the simple act of trying to breathe without coughing exhausted him.

J.D. wished he could rest for a while longer, but he knew he had to get out now. Another hour even would be too late. He was hurt and sick and his friends might even think he was dead already. The morose thought brought back vivid flashbacks of his dream and he shivered again.

Now or never.