Larabee let his horse slow to a walk as he scanned the faces of the filthy patrons along the street just like he'd done a hundred times before. Hell, his mount could probably take him straight to the rickety stall and the stale hay that kept him occupied when Chris sought out the noncommittal solace of one of the town's resident working girls. Except now, his eyes only searched for J.D. Dunne. Hopefully the kid would still be standing upright and under his own power.

A commotion in the direction of the saloon drew a muffled groan from Ezra. Chris looked in time to catch a glimpse of a familiar brown suit coat and a brace of pistols being ripped from its owner as the group dragged their hapless victim into the shadow of the alley. One of the outlaws yelled and dropped to one knee.

Apparently J.D. still had some fight left.

Chris let out a frustrated sigh. Damn kid. All balls, no brains sometimes. He dismounted and strode toward the fight. He fought the urge to run as he heard J.D. groan and the sound of fists on flesh rang in his ears. He couldn't let on how eager he was to pull J.D. out of harm's way.

"Why don't you boys pick on somebody your own size?" Chris kept his voice steady, even added a hint of amusement in his tone to hopefully keep them guessing.

The outlaws released their hold and J.D. dropped unmercifully into the dust with an unsettling thud. One man stepped in front of the others, his chest puffed out like a banty rooster, J.D.'s guns casually hanging from his shoulder as he sized up Larabee and the men who stood behind him.

"You want to die for a pequeños pescados?" The man laughed and glanced over his shoulder at his friends as he took a step closer.

Larabee didn't flinch, instead he leaned into the outlaw's face, his eyes never wavering, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Do you?"

The sound of readying guns behind him enforced his words and Chris almost smiled as fear clouded the Mexican's dark eyes. The outlaw's friends moved deeper into the alley, clearly unwilling to be a part of their leader's impending fight. The man must have known he no longer had a following and laughed nervously as he backed away and let J.D.'s gunbelt drop at his feet. "Regalo, a gift, señor."

Chris stood his ground, the steady rise and fall of his chest his only movement as the Mexican quickly disappeared around the corner of the weathered building. He could feel the unfriendly stares behind him and said a silent thank you to the men he knew were watching his back

J.D. moaned loudly, rolling himself to his knees and clutching his side with one arm as he attempted to stand. Chris's stomach twisted in empathy as the kid failed miserably, ending up doubled over with his head almost touching the ground.

"Josiah, Ezra, get J.D. and let's get out of here." Larabee spoke with urgency, knowing the immediate danger might have passed, but in this town there was no such thing as safety.

J.D. cried out weakly as his friends lifted his limp form and balanced him upright between them. Chris stepped forward and picked up J.D.'s guns, then gently lifted the boy's chin so he could get a look at his face. "How bad you hurt?"

"I'm fine." J.D. whispered weakly as he pulled his arm from Ezra's grasp and wiped at the blood and dust caked on his cheek. A look of stubborn pride crossed his face as he straightened his stance, but his will couldn't compete with battered limbs. His knees buckled and embarrassment burned on his cheeks as his body slumped against Josiah's side.

"Son, I do hope you can ride better than you can walk, because I do not plan to carry you much farther than your horse." Ezra shook his head in mock disgust as he flung J.D.'s arm around his neck and helped Josiah carry him out of the alley.

Only a hint of sympathy and understanding, not to mention the gathering they'd picked up after the altercation, kept him from grabbing J.D. by the collar and shaking him like an errant puppy. The boy's recklessness nearly cost him more than the bruises he'd carry in a few hours. And it might have cost them all a chance to find Buck's attackers and settle the score. Something Larabee knew he still needed to finish as much as J.D. did.

Chris turned to leave, whispering clearly in Vin's ear. "Ask around, somebody's bound to know somethin'."

Vin nodded as he slapped his mare's leg against his palm. "I think I can make 'em start jawin'."

"We'll meet you on the bluff. Watch your back."

*******

The four men settled under the shade of a tree overlooking the entrance to Purgatory, their tension easing when no one appeared to be following. One good thing about that town, nobody poked their nose in your business for more than a few minutes. Well, at least never any longer than it took to rob a person blind and then move on.

Josiah kept watch over the bluff and Chris eased himself onto the ground, his mind trying to figure out a plan for getting Foxx and heading out for Four Corners with his men still intact. He watched as Ezra soaked a handkerchief with water from his canteen and wiped at J.D.'s bloodied face. J.D. flinched, but his gaze remained locked with Larabee. The young man sniffed and swallowed hard, licking his lips as if trying to make the right words form. All the hurt and disappointment and the one question Chris knew the kid was gathering courage to ask were reflected in his dark eyes.

"He was alive when we left." Chris didn't want to force J.D. to ask about Buck, wanted to ease his mind enough to let him know that there was something still left to fight for.

Tears threatened to spill down the young man's cheeks, but a faint sparkle of hope ignited in J.D.'s haunted eyes.

"And I'm certain Mr. Wilmington will remain so." Ezra looked up at Chris briefly before turning back to J.D. and forcing a smile that probably would have looked genuine to anyone who didn't know him. Larabee figured Standish didn't have any intention of letting J.D. give up either. And right now, Chris knew that Buck still being among the living was probably the only thing holding the young man together.

The kid stood up, reaching for the guns still slung over Chris's saddle and began to buckle them around his hips.

"Are you sure…" Ezra lay a steadying hand on J.D.'s back as the boy swayed unsteadily on his feet.

J.D. nodded, grim determination set in his youthful features. "I'll be ready."

J.D. sat down gingerly, supporting his sore ribs with one arm as he dropped onto a smooth outcropping of rock and began checking first one gun then the other. Larabee knew damn well what kept him moving; what made a man ignore pain and fatigue and common sense even. He knew because he'd been driven by the same forces. Now he believed he was witnessing J.D. turning toward the same unsatisfying demons that had been such a powerful lure to him. Chris glanced at Josiah and Ezra, then moved to stand behind J.D.

"Looking for revenge ain't no way to spend your life, son." Chris hoped J.D. realized the truth of his words instead of the hypocrisy he felt in saying them.

J.D. snapped the barrel of his pistol in place and shoved it back into its holster without looking up. "You're one to be talkin'."

"Figure I got more of a right to preach about it than anybody."

"I reckon I got that right now too." Anger radiated from the young gunslinger's back and Chris felt his heart sink at the cold hatred he witnessed rising to the surface.

"I know that."

"And I don't need no lectures about what I should or shouldn't feel. I expected you'd be wantin' justice as much as me."

"There's a big differ'nce between justice and vengeance, J.D. And right now you're too blind with hate to see it."

J.D. rose quickly, wincing as he whirled around to face Larabee. "Right now I don't see a dime's wortha difference."

"You ain't the only one's got a stake in finding 'em. I wanna see those men pay for what they did as much as you do." Chris spat the words in J.D.'s face, but the kid didn't flinch from his stare.

"Ain't stoppin' you, long as you don't try and stop me. I ain't no kid and I ain't no coward." J.D.'s young face looked drawn and tired as he tried to keep control of his swirling emotions. "I've killed men before, ain't no big deal."

Repressed rage bubbled uncontrollably to the surface and Chris felt as if a bolt of lighting had struck dead center of his skull. He knew J.D.'s tone held no conviction, yet he still couldn't help his own reaction to the words. Chris lashed out like a coiled rattler, grabbing the lapels of J.D.'s coat and shoving the kid hard against the tree that shaded them.

"Mr. Larabee." Ezra's concerned voice and J.D.'s uncontrolled grunt of pain seeped through the pounding in his head, but he ignored everything except keeping J.D.'s attention.

"I hope to hell you didn't mean that. That you never mean that."

J.D. remained silent. His eyes defiant and fearless, successfully masking the terror his pounding heart could not. Chris felt a twinge of guilt as the boy's heart vibrated hard against his fist.

"Takin' a life ain't like taking shots at tin cans. It don't matter what a man did or how much they deserve to die - don't ever let yourself enjoy it." Chris let go, shoving J.D. with enough force that the kid had to struggle to keep his balance.

"You talk awful big for somebody who never seemed to mind gunnin' another man down." Chris could see in J.D.'s narrowed eyes that he expected to be hit for speaking the truth.

Larabee almost obliged him, flexing his fist as it itched to teach this wet-behind-the-ears kid some respect. Instead he softened his words to a whisper, hoping they would seep through the young man's hardening shell.

"Killing takes a part of the killer with it, son. Justified or not, don't make no difference. Listen to yourself. You think Buck would want you talkin' that way?"

"You think Buck would let somebody beat me half to death and let it go? You think he wouldn't be doin' exactly the same thing?" J.D. stepped forward, stretching his body as far as it would go in order to look Chris straight in the face.

"No. He'd be more worried 'bout you than about curin' the bitterness eatin' at his soul. He'd have stayed right by your side and to hell with everythin' else."

The words obviously cut deep. J.D. backed down and turned his head away, but he wasn't quick enough to hide the shame and grief filling his eyes. Chris immediately questioned the wisdom of speaking such truth, but he could think of no other way. Maybe this would at least cut through the shell of bravado J.D. masked his compassion behind; make the kid think, make him feel something besides hatred.

"I guess that's where me and him's different." J.D.'s words were quiet, somber and so defeated that Chris ached with him.

Larabee shook his head. "You two are more alike than anything I've ever seen. Even more 'n me 'n him used to be." Before I became somebody else, before I pushed him and everything else I loved aside to make room for the hate that devoured every inch of whatever heart I had left. "Don't let hate get a foothold, J.D., it might not ever let go."

Chris resisted the urge to simply cold cock the stubborn fool and keep him safely oblivious until after Foxx and his men were securely in their custody. As much as he wished it could be that simple, J.D. needed to figure this out for himself. He had done all he could do for the boy and now he'd have to trust him to make his own decisions and just hope to hell they would be ones he could live with.

A steady thud of hooves drew Chris's attention and he quickly looked at Josiah, assuring himself his friend hadn't been distracted by the confrontation. The big man smiled, indicating the rider had been seen and recognized.

"Any trouble?" Chris asked as the tracker pulled his mount up and dropped off its back in one smooth motion.

"Nah. Followed their trail almost to the river, figure that's where they set up camp. Barkeep said one of 'em got gut shot in town this mornin' tryin' to rob somebody. Said they wouldn't go too far and none of 'em won't go home 'til their brother got better or died."

"Without somebody that knows what they're doing, I suspect he won't last past noon." Josiah's baritone voice echoed Chris' thoughts and he knew they had to move now.

"They pick up any more men?" Chris said softly as he looked at his own small band of exhausted friends.

"Maybe, two or three, he didn't rightly know for sure."

Chris nodded, then his eyes fell to J.D. The kid not only physically looked like hell, but he had the added weight of guilt mixed with blind rage sitting squarely on his shoulders too. Unless the young man could keep his emotions in check he might just be more of a liability than any of Foxx's men. And from the concerned looks plastered on each of his friends' faces, he knew they realized it too. Which meant they'd all be distracted.

Suddenly the odds didn't seem so even anymore. Then again, it wasn't like they had any choice. Chris really didn't need to tell them of the urgency now stemming from the fact that their intentions were probably being whispered in that rundown saloon as soon as Tanner had left. Especially if any man in town dared hope they might form an alliance with Ethan Foxx by warning him of an enemy's arrival.

"We bring 'em in alive if we can, and nobody goes runnin' off on their own." Chris locked stares with J.D. before he finished his statement. "We stick together and what I say goes, no arguments." He made sure they all heard his words, but he wanted J.D. to realize they were specifically for him. From the defiant expression clouding J.D.'s face, he knew he'd succeeded on that point.

Chris broke his gaze from the kid and turned it toward the three men to his right. "We ride in five minutes."

"Dare I inquire as to your plan, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra nonchalantly brushed the dust from his trousers, but his gaze remained focused on Chris.

"I'll let you know as soon as I do."

*******

J.D. kept his horse at a slow walk as he silently trailed after his friends. Exhaustion, pain and the harsh reality of what lay ahead drained the fire from his soul. He realized giving in to such frailties might get him or his friends killed, but he'd find the needed strength when the time came. He'd use his worry for Buck to feed his courage and the memory of Buck's pain to spur his rage.

He watched as Vin rode point, mentioning the easy trail Foxx didn't bother to hide. The sheer cockiness of their attitude began to ignite the glowing embers of hate that hadn't completely left J.D.'s heart. Why should they care who followed? They could murder and maim their way across the territory and nobody would have the guts to stop them. Of course it could have been they'd been too concerned for the wounded man to cover their tracks, but J.D. quickly dismissed that or any other idea that smothered his building fury.

His mind swam with confusion that mixed with the misery of his aching joints and the bitterness roiling in his gut to form a nauseating brew. Things were supposed to get easier as you got older. Decisions more straightforward; right and wrong clearly defined until no questions remained. He'd had so many expectations, so many questions he thought age and wisdom would answer, but Life seemed to only loop and spin into more uncertainty.

He thought that once he could make his own choices he'd be able to prove to himself and anyone who'd never thought he'd have the courage to leave the only home he'd ever known, that J.D. Dunne could now be called a man. A man of honor and courage and enough fortitude to tackle his doubts head-on and live to tell about it.

Although, right now the doubts were winning.

J.D. shifted in the saddle trying to relieve the sharp pain clutching at his ribs with each lumbering step his gelding took. Even surrounded by his friends, the knowledge that Buck wasn't among them made J.D. feel helplessly alone. He missed Buck's contagious laughter and reassuring grin that made even the most tense of situations seem all right. Hell, J.D. even missed the older man's teasing and hovering that J.D. tried to pretend he didn't want or most certainly didn't need. He'd give anything to have his big brother riding herd over him now; Buck's wise and gentle words soothing the doubt that crashed into his temples like a tumultuous sea.

J.D. felt the sting of tears well in his eyes and quickly brushed them away. God, please be alive, Buck.

Vin signaled the men to stop. J.D. sat up straight in the saddle and tried to focus his attention on Chris rather than the intoxicating rush of adrenaline that always flowed through his veins when faced with this kind of confrontation. He pulled in a deep breath to calm himself and collect the thoughts that bounced inside his over-active mind. After all, this is what he'd wanted since Buck had come home on a stretcher. Call it revenge or call it justice, it didn't much matter now. Either concept would suit his purpose just fine, as long as Ethan Foxx and his gang lay rotting in the afternoon sun when the smoke cleared.

PART 4

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