a blast from hell 2

By Winnie

Part 2

"JD, take care of the horses while I check on our wayward tracker," Sanchez said as he dismounted and passed the reins to the younger man. He hurried to the little shack nestled in amongst the brush, worried that there was no smoke coming from the chimney. He opened the door and called softly. "Vin, it's Josiah. I'm coming in," he warned, not wanting to startle the tracker. He let his eyes adjust to the darkened interior and immediately knew something was wrong. "Vin?" he asked as he hurried to the bed. The tracker writhed on the blanket in the throes of some nightmare only he could see. "Come on, Vin, wake up," Sanchez ordered. He touched the forehead, not surprised to find it slightly warm.

The words lacked any strength but the heartfelt cry stabbed at Sanchez's heart. Vin Tanner considered Chris Larabee his best friend and sometimes he wondered if these two should have been born brothers. "Vin, it wasn't your fault. Come on now, open your eyes and look at me."

The soft lilting voice broke through the nightmare images and Vin opened his eyes. "J...Josiah?"

"Yeah, it's me, Vin. Now you just lie there until I get some light in here," Sanchez ordered as he walked to the table and lit the tiny oil lamp. Soft white light shed shadows on the single room as Sanchez moved back to the bed. The stark white face of the younger man was made even whiter by the tiny, flickering flame. "You look like hell, Brother."

"He was a little upset the last time I saw him. Seems like some hard headed Texan went on patrol when he should've been waiting his turn to see Dr. Metcalf."

"That may well be, Vin, but you still shouldn't have come out here on your own."

"Been on my own most of my life, Josiah. Should've stayed that way too. Leastwise Chris wouldn't be crippled then," Tanner snapped as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Heard you and Nate talkin' in the clinic," Tanner swallowed painfully and put his hand to his throbbing shoulder.

"I know what he said, Josiah. I heard him tellin' ya that he wasn't sure cause of the swellin' and the pressure on the spine. If'n it would do any good I'd chop off my own legs and give 'em to him. Should've been me anyway," Tanner snarled as he once more struck at his thigh.

Sanchez knelt in front of the younger man, placing his strong, callused hand over the smaller hand of the tracker. "Vin, look deep inside yourself and you'll see that it wasn't your fault. Chris doesn't blame you and neither does anyone else. You have more heart and soul then any man I know, Vin Tanner, and I see the truth of your words in your eyes. Beating yourself up over something that's beyond your control won't help Chris."

"You're right it shouldn't have. But as long as there are men like Gord Archer and his followers things like this will happen. Good men get hurt and sometimes they die, but as long as there are more good men to pick up the fight men like Archer will never win. You're one of those good men, Vin, you've got a heart of gold and a love of mankind seldom seen. You've made your own way in life and where a lot of men would have given up you fought to stay true to your mother's wishes. She'd be proud of you, Vin Tanner, just as I am," Sanchez looked into the blue eyes, so filled with sadness and pain. A thin stream of tears ran down both sides of the younger man's face and Sanchez knew his own face probably bore the same marks.

Rich smiled as he mounted his horse for the ride back to Archer's camp. Four of the seven peacekeepers were injured, Larabee being the worst off. He'd listened to the talk in the saloon the night before and knew there were only three of Larabee's gang healthy enough to put up any sort of fight. Archer's gang still had eight men including himself and he knew they could make quick work of the town of Four Corners. Smiling, he dug his heels into his horse and headed out of town just as the sun raised her golden head.

Buck rubbed his aching shoulder as he watched Standish continue to bathe the gunslinger's face and chest. Larabee's cries dug deep into his soul as he listened to him cry out for his murdered family. He'd been through this same scene many times before but it never got any easier. The love Chris Larabee had for his wife and son lived on in his heart and continued to manifest itself when the gunslinger was ill or injured. Wilmington had long ago lost track of how many nights he'd spent trying to pull the gunfighter from the nightmares that sometimes overwhelmed his friend. A low moan pulled him from his thoughts and he smiled as his friend fought to open his eyes. "Hey, Stud, 'bout time you woke up," he said.

"Yeah, me and Ezra got stuck with watchin' out for ya," Wilmington grinned mischievously, hiding the worry he felt over his friend's health.

"Vin back yet?" Larabee asked tiredly. Although he still wasn't comfortable, lying half on his side and half on his stomach made it easier for him to see his friends.

"Not yet," the ladies man answered, keeping his own fears for the missing tracker at bay.

"Doctor Metcalf left orders for us to make sure we helped you partake of some water, Mr. Larabee," Standish informed the gunslinger. "He said water not whiskey, I'm afraid," he said before the blond could form the words.

"Damn," Larabee swore but gratefully accepted the offering. "How's the arm, Buck?"

"That's right, ain't nothin' inside there to hurt anyway," the ladies man laughed.

"The things I put up with in the name of friendship," the gambler placed the cool cloth on Larabee's forehead as he stood up to stretch.

"Ignore him, Ez, the rest of us do," Larabee laughed but was cut short as his back protested the movement. "Shit!"

"Easy, Pard," Wilmington placed his hand on the gunslinger's shoulder in an effort to keep him still. "You don't want old Doc Metcalf having to put them stitches back in."

"Oh, hell," the ladies man swore as he noticed the whiskered man and the healer standing in the door of the clinic. "Ya know I didn't mean it like it sounded, Doc."

"I think it's time I took another look at your shoulder," Metcalf pointed to the empty chair beside Nathan. "Why don't you take off your shirt and have a seat before these shaky old hands of mine get worse."

"You have my deepest sympathies, Mr. Wilmington," Standish couldn't suppress the tiny laugh that escaped his mouth, the smile broadened as he saw the same smile on Chris Larabee's pale face.

"The chair, Buck, or I might just have to get someone to hold you down," Metcalf said, making a show of his trembling hands, laughing as he saw the look of uncertainty come over the moustached man's face.

"There seems to be a lot of that going around today," Standish commented as he took the cloth from Larabee's head, wet it, and placed it back on the heated forehead.

"Thanks, Ez," the blond muttered. He closed his eyes and listened to Buck whine about the torture Metcalf was inflicting on his arm. His thoughts once more drifted to the missing tracker. Fever, exhaustion, and pain drew him under and he was once more wrapped in the changing nightmares that plagued his mind. Vin being shot mixed in with Sarah and Adam and the fire until the hungry flames surrounding them consumed all three. "Sarah! Adam! Vin!" he screamed as he fought his way towards the flames only to feel strong hands hold him back.

"Easy, Cowboy," Tanner drawled as he sat next to the gunslinger. He'd heard the cries from below and hurried up the stairs, surprising the others in his desperate attempt to help his friend. "Lie still, Chris, everything's alright now."

"V...Vin," Larabee gasped as the familiar voice eased him from the nightmare he'd resided in.

"J...Josiah's a smart man. Y...you listen to him. Knows w...what he's t...talking about," Larabee gasped as he let his eyes slip shut.

The red blotches on the pale face were evidence that the gunslinger's fever was too high and Vin turned worried eyes on Metcalf. "Doc, he's burnin' up."

"He's got one hell of a fever, Vin, we're doin' everything we can short of immersing him in a tub of ice water. With the injury to his back I don't want to do that unless it's absolutely necessary. Now, young man I need to take a look at your shoulder. Take a seat over here."

"Sure it is," Jackson laughed as he lay back on the bed. "Told you they were a stubborn lot, Doc."

"And you're not, Nathan. I'm sure I told you to stay in bed and I'd have breakfast brought up for you."

"I used the cane, didn't I?" Jackson had the good grace to turn away before he joined in the laughter from his friends.

"Oh, Nathan, we'll never let you forget this. It's so nice to see you on the receiving end for a change," Wilmington held his injured arm as he laughed.

Jackson turned to see a pair of green eyes staring at him, "Chris, would you shoot him for me?"

"Better get it over with, Tanner," Larabee nodded as the younger man stood up and walked to the chair.

"Well, Brothers, it's good to see everyone awake. How are you feeling, Chris?" the ex-preacher asked as he took the seat recently held by the tracker.

"Fine, Josiah," he answered. Thanks for bringing him back, he mouthed his gratitude to the older men.

Sanchez smiled as he patted the blond's shoulder. "Get some rest, My Brother, you need to let yourself heal."

"That's good advice, Chris. Actually that's good advice for Nathan, Buck, Vin and you as well, Ezra. Josiah, JD, see to it that those two," he indicated the ladies man and the gambler, "go to their rooms and rest. No arguments. Each one of you was shot and each one of you needs to rest. Now get those two out of here."

An hour later three men slept soundly in the clinic. Chris in the bed, Nathan on the cot, and Vin Tanner on a bedroll in the corner.

Metcalf kept vigilance on the three sleeping men. Forcing water down Larabee's throat whenever he was awake enough to swallow it. He worried about the gunslinger's injury as he hadn't moved his legs since the night before. Sighing he stretched his back and set to work bringing down the fever.

Gord Archer looked up as a horse galloped into the makeshift camp. Two days had come and gone since he sent the man to Four Corners to gather information on the Larabee gang. He waited for the man to stop on front of him, "What the hell took ya so long?" he snarled.

"Ya wanted to know how bad we'd hurt em. Well I had to wait around until I found out," Rich explained as he ground tied his horse.

Brad Weston hurried towards the two men intent on hearing the news Rich had garnered on his trip.

Rich smiled at the leader of the gang as he delivered the news from Four Corners. "Tanner and Wilmington were both shot in the arm. Standish took a blow to the head but he's up and around. Jackson took a bullet in the leg. Dunne and Sanchez are both fine," he said as he walked to the fire and poured a cup of coffee.

The smile on Rich's face grew as he turned back to Archer. "Talk is Larabee was injured when he was thrown against a rock."

"Happened when Tanner got hit and dropped the dynamite. Larabee was right behind him and took the force of the explosion."

"How bad," Archer asked, an evil gleam in his eyes as the firelight glanced off them.

"Rumor has it he hurt his back and ain't movin' his legs too much. Some even said he was paralysed."

"They got the doc from Eagle Bend over there now. He's takin' care of Larabee and the others."

"Tanner, Standish, and Wilmington aren't bad off. Saw Standish in the saloon. The other two are stayin' with Larabee and Jackson even though they don't need too. Larabee's down, but no one knows for how long."

"Larabee's down, the others aren't in great shape," Archer rubbed his chin as he talked. "All right, Boys, we hit the town tomorrow. We rob the bank and kill any of Larabee's men we see."

"I'll get to him while you fella's keep the others occupied at the bank. My brother's dead and I hold that son of a bitch responsible," he said as he took a slug of whiskey from the bottle Weston passed him.

The heat felt intense and he wondered where it was coming from. He knew he was lying down and that he should try to escape the inferno around him but to move meant pain and that was not something he wanted to deal with anymore. He groaned as something cool touched his brow and he felt drawn to it. Slowly opening his eyes he looked at the woman seated in the chair. She didn't seem to notice he was awake and he took the time to study her.

The first thing he noticed was the dark circles under her eyes and the strands of hair poking out from the tight bun at the back of her head. He knew she was worried about him and hated the thought of her losing sleep over him.

Mary jumped at the soft voice in the quiet room. She looked at the pain filled green eyes and forced a smile to her face. "How are you feeling, Chris?" she asked as she wet the cloth and bathed the pale face.

She picked up the glass of water and helped him drink his fill, dissatisfied when he stopped after only a couple of sips. "A little more?" she asked hopefully.

"Nathan and Dr. Metcalf went to get some breakfast. Josiah, Vin, and Ezra went to check for signs of the Archer gang. Buck and JD are in the sheriff's office."

"They're all fine, Chris. A little sore but you know Vin and Buck won't slow down until they find the gang who caused all this. Now you stop worrying about everyone else and concentrate on getting better," she scolded.

"T...think so," he answered as she held the glass to his lips. He drank a little more and eased down in the bed.

"Back's fine," he grinned sheepishly, knowing he was deliberately lying and that she knew it. "Been trying to move my legs but they don't seem to be responding much."

"Okay," he said and concentrated on making his legs obey his brain's commands. He gasped as they moved a fraction of an inch, a small grin on his face as he realized he'd made his body obey even if it was barely noticeable.

Mary smiled at the look of triumph on the blonds face. "You did it, Chris," she laughed.

"Nothing funny, Buck," Larabee told the ladies man. "I was just trying to move my damn legs."

"And he did it," Mary smiled at the pale blond, feeling herself drawn into the depth of the green eyes.

"Hey, Stud, that's great. You'll be giving Nathan a hard time in no time at all."

"No you won't," Mary looked appalled at the idea. "Chris, you listen to what Nathan and Dr. Metcalf tell you. Buck, if you so much as raise one hand to help him out of bed before the doctor and Nathan say it's okay I--"

"Whoa, Mary, I'm not plannin' on helping the hardhead do something that's gonna make things worse for him and get me in trouble at the same time. Sorry, Stud, there's too many of 'em to fight."

"There's not much else you can do right now, Pard. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky and Archer and his bunch have already hightailed it to Mexico or some place far away from here," Wilmington told him.

"Buck, that's the biggest load of cr... ah garbage I ever heard. You know as well as I do Archer won't leave until he's finished and I don't think he's finished yet."

Mary smiled inwardly at the thought of him not swearing because she was present. "Maybe not, Chris, but you're in no shape to do anything about it," she told him.

The gunslinger tried to ease himself up on the bed but a soft hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Chris, don't try to get up. Dr. Metcalf doesn't want you moving around to much."

"I can't stay like this," he told her as he tried to turn over. "Help me sit up, Buck."

"Forget it, Chris, not 'til Nathan or the doc says it's okay. If it was just them I'd do it, but I don't want to get Mary angry at me," Wilmington smiled at the man on the bed.

Mary reached for the glass of water and once more helped Chris sip from it. "Why don't you try to get some sleep, Chris?" she asked.

"That's because you need the rest, Chris," Jackson said as he entered the room, relying heavily on the cane to help him along.

"I'm f..." he smiled as he noticed three sets of eyes on him. "I'm feeling kind of tired," he quipped. He laughed along with them as he sat on the edge of the cot. He looked at the gunslinger as he heard an audible groan. "Back bothering ya, Chris?"

"Buck, give him some Laudanum so he can rest," Jackson ordered. He watched as the ladies man served up a dose of the medication to the gunslinger before he sank onto the cot. "That'll help, Chris."

"Hmm," Larabee agreed as he waited for the pain to ease. He kept his eyes closed as once more Mary placed a cool cloth on his forehead.

"Did you perchance discover anything useful, Mr. Tanner?" Standish asked as he watched the tracker search the area where they'd first encountered the Archer gang.

Tanner knelt by the side of the trail, checking to see how many men were with Gord Archer. The tracks were easy to read and Vin knew they were dealing with at least twelve men. They'd found two bodies but he knew they'd hit more than that. He'd found bloodstains on the grounds and rocks around the area. Guess some of em were winged too, he thought as he stood up and rubbed his aching shoulder.

"Archer and his gang hightailed it southwest. Looks to be twelve horses but only ten of 'em were carrying anything. By the amount of blood in different places I'd say we winged a few of em."

"It's fine, Josiah. We've got to find them and make sure they don't hurt anyone else."

"I agree, Mr. Tanner, we must see that these miscreants are brought to justice," Standish hissed as he rubbed his own reminder of the shootout.

"Then let's ride," Sanchez ordered and they headed south with Vin leading the way.

"How's he doing, Doc?" Wilmington asked as the doctor finished changing the bandages on Larabee's back.

"Well, Buck, I think we've managed to get rid of the infection. Now it's just a matter of letting the wound heal," Metcalf explained as he gently placed the blanket over the injured man.

"From everything I've seen so far he should make a full recovery. He's gonna have to let the swelling go down and then we'll start working on his legs to get the strength back into them. He's not gonna be able to just get up and do things like he normally does."

"Oh, Doc, I hate to say it, but that'll be easier said than done," Wilmington laughed.

"If he wants to get back on his own two feet and stay there. he'll do everything he's told to."

"Chris, drink this," Metcalf ordered and forced the injured man to drink water and then a little broth. "How're you feeling?"

"No problem. Buck, when I lift him you pull the pillows out. Okay, Chris, are you ready?" At the nod he gently lifted Larabee's shoulders and hip until he was totally on his side. He eased him back to the bed as soon as Wilmington removed the pillows. "Easy, Son, I know that hurts but it should ease off shortly."

"O...kay," the blond answered as he clenched his hands tightly. "Damn!" he gasped as it finally subsided.

Metcalf patted his shoulder and urged him to take in more water. He was pleased his patient was still taking in liquids and hoped it would continue. The fever that raged through him seemed to have decreased and he watched as the injured man succumbed to sleep once more.

"I don't care," Archer snapped over his shoulder as he hurried towards the town of Four Corners. "I told you I want to be there by this afternoon and if that means running these nags into the ground then so what. We'll just take us what we need from the damn lawmen in the town. They won't be needin' em by the time we're through with 'em," he laughed as he pictured seven bodies swaying in the breeze.

Tanner touched the ashes and looked around the small area. "We didn't miss 'em by more'n a couple of hours, Josiah," he shook his head as he followed the footprints to the area the gang had left their horses. "Looks like we're dealing with eight men."

"Hang on a minute, Ez," Tanner ordered as he searched the area of broken grass and overturned rocks. "Jesus!" he exclaimed as he hurriedly mounted Peso.

"Damn, we left JD back there with three injured men and a town to defend," Sanchez said as he spurred his mount forward.

"I suggest we make tracks for town post haste," Standish suggested as the three men drove their horses northwards in hopes of making town before disaster befell it.

"Yeah, Buck, everything's fine. I'm just gonna grab some lunch. How're Chris and Nate doing?"

"Let's just say Nathan wants out. He's sputterin' about having to take it easy on his leg."

"You know, Buck, I hate seeing him hurt, but it's nice to know he's as bad as the rest of us when he is."

"Not bad. I just have to watch what I say when Doc Metcalf's around. That man don't cotton to bein' called old," he hissed as he rubbed his injured shoulder.

Wilmington's eyes shot up as he looked at JD, "Now that's an offer I can't turn down. Lead the way, Kid," he laughed.

Mary continued to sit with Chris, gently washing the injured man's face while waiting for the expressive green eyes to open. The doctor was pleased with the way the gunslinger's fever continued to dissipate. She'd listened to Metcalf and Jackson as they discussed what lay ahead for the gunslinger. The recovery from the injury would be bad enough but he'd also have to deal with someone exercising his legs while the wound was still healing. I'll help you, Chris, she thought as she looked at the handsome face

Jackson leaned heavily on the cane as he made his way to the bed. He reached down and touched the gunslinger's forehead nodding his head in confirmation. "He is a little cooler. You look a mite tired, Mrs. Travis. Why don't you go home and get some rest? I can handle Chris until Dr. Metcalf gets back."

Mary looked from the healer to the man on the bed. She knew he was right, she felt exhausted as she lifted her hands and rubbed her tired eyes. "Call me if he needs anything," she said.

"I will," Nathan assured her as she stood up to leave. "He's strong, Mrs. Travis, and he'll beat this."

Jackson wasn't surprised to see two green orbs looking up at him from beneath hooded lids. He smiled at the gunslinger as he held the glass of water out to him. He helped the pale man lift his head enough to drink. "How're you feelin', Chris?"

"Feel like getting out of this damn bed," Larabee answered as he struggled to get up, smiling as he pulled his legs slowly upwards.

"That's not such a good idea right now, Chris," Jackson smiled as he placed a hand on Larabee's right shoulder, forcing him back on the bed.

"Ah, hell, Nathan, that's just plain mean," he gasped as he turned a little on his side.

"Let that be a lesson to you. You won't be gettin' outta that bed 'til Doc Metcalf says it's okay."

"Well now, Chris, first off we need to let the wound in your back heal up some and that means you have to lie still."

Jackson smiled as he took the wet cloth from the basin again. He placed it across the gunslinger's forehead, patting his shoulder gently. "Go on back to sleep, Chris."

"I hope the hell they haven't run into trouble," Larabee muttered as he felt sleep beckoning to him again.

Archer pulled to a stop on the outskirts of Four Corners, an evil grin on his face at the thought of taking on the injured lawmen. "The day of reckoning is at hand, Larabee," he laughed as the seven surviving members of the gang pulled up next to him. "You all know what to do?"

"We rob the bank and take care of anyone who gets in our way," Rich smiled at the thought of the bloodbath they were about to cause.

"That's right. Now you fellas make sure ya kill them and we'll hang their dead bodies from that tree over there," Archer pointed to a large tree to their right, the branches heavily laden with leaves and reaching up to the bright afternoon sky. "Larabee's mine," he warned. "You fellas make damn sure ya get the job done and meet me outside Jackson's clinic. You did say it was over the livery?"

"That's right," Rich answered as they lifted the bandanas to their faces and rode towards the unsuspecting town.

Buck and JD sat outside the jailhouse watching the town as the people went about their business. Buck tipped his hat as a young woman smiled his way.

"Looks like we got company!" Dunne said as he pointed to the horses thundering into town.

"Jesus, it's Archer and his gang. Everyone off the street," he shouted as the riders came towards them, guns drawn and shooting skywards. "JD, get down! Nathan, it's Archer!" he yelled as the healer came out of the saloon.

Jackson saw the riders and dove behind the water trough, grimacing as pain flared in his leg, his gun coming up and pointing at the men coming towards them. "I count seven!" he shouted to Wilmington as he fired at the group of men.

"They're headed for the bank!" Dunne yelled as the horsemen made their way past them.

"Nathan, cover me!" Wilmington shouted as he ran from the front of the jail towards the bank, stopping behind a rain barrel as bullets struck the dirt around him.

Wish the hell Vin, Josiah, and Ezra were back, Dunne thought as the windows and drapes were closed. He watched the men climb down from their horses and move towards the bank, grinning as he realized the aged banker had already closed and locked the doors.

"Help me up, Doc!" Larabee ordered as he struggled to turn on his side. He could see his gun sitting on the table next to his bed and he needed to move to help his friends.

"Chris, you can't do that. If you try to get up now you'll just cause more damage," Metcalf explained.

"I can't lie here while JD, Nathan, and Buck, are being used for target practice!"

"What good'll it do them for you to go out there? They'll be too worried about you to concentrate on what they're doing."

"Then just get me out on the landing. I can lie on the floor and shoot from there!" Larabee hissed as he slipped his legs over the edge of the bed, swearing sharply as the jarring movement sent pain flaring up his back.

"You're a stubborn mule, Larabee," Metcalf snapped as he helped the gunslinger sit up and lean against the wall to catch his breath. Sweat once more beaded on the pale face as Larabee clenched his eyes and fists in order to ride out the pain.

Chris tried to move but his body wouldn't obey his commands. He ignored the pain in his back as he stretched for his white handled colt.

"Touch it and the doc's dead, Larabee!" Archer laughed at the mixture of torment, pain, and anger on the blond's face. "Now sit down until my men finish making a healthy withdrawal from your bank."

"I don't think so, Larabee. I'm gonna need him to help me get my hostage downstairs and on a horse," Archer laughed hysterically as he saw the doc's anger flare.

"That's the idea, Doc. See I got plans to watch seven lawmen swing from ropes on that big tree just south of town. Now get him on his feet and we'll just go watch the proceedings from the landing."

"No, dammit, you just leave him where he is and I'll go with you!" Metcalf snarled.

"Sorry, Doc, but Larabee's gotta pay right along with his friends. Now get 'im on his feet."

"Do it, Doc!" the injured man hissed as he reached up for the doc to grab his arm and help him stand.

"It sounds like our comrades are greatly in need of our assistance," Standish shouted as he followed the galloping horses towards the tiny town they called home.

Wilmington fired and smiled when he heard a gasp of pain from the man he aimed for. "JD, can you see where they are?" he shouted as a bullet clipped the corner of the barrel he was hiding behind. Water splashed over him and he wiped it away from his eyes.

"They're trying to get into the bank, Buck! Nathan's headed around back to see if we can get them in a crossfire!"

"Yeah, he's limping but he's still moving pretty good," Dunne said as he fired at a man running towards the horse trough in front of the bank.

"Nice shot, Kid!" Wilmington shouted as he watched the man fall short of his destination. "Shit, JD, more riders comin'!" he shouted as he fired at the men seeking refuge around the bank.

"Archer's men are at the bank!" JD shouted to the newcomers as they dismounted and ran for cover, hitting the horses so they'd gallop out of danger.

Josiah slumped behind a wagon and sent a bullet into one of the outlaws. "How many?" he yelled.

"There were seven, but with the guy you just took down it leaves four. Me and JD got one each."

"Sounds like Vin and Nathan are in position!" the ex-preacher shouted as he laid down covering fire for the two men.

"Come on, Larabee, move a little faster or I'll just kill ya both right here," Archer hissed as they made it to the landing.

Larabee doubled over in agony as the outlaw pressed his gun into the center of his back. He cried out as he sank to his knees.

"You sorry Son of a Bitch!" Metcalf shouted as he felt the man he held trembling violently.

"I k...know," the blond whispered, his teeth clenched against the agony in his lower back.

"Now move over to the stairs so's we can see what my men are doin to yers," Archer laughed. "Won't be too long before I get the pleasure of seein' ya all hang."

"N...not gonna h...happen, Archer!" Larabee smiled as he watched his friends round up three men and walk them at gunpoint towards the jail.

"Looks like your m...men are going to j...hail, A...Archer!" the blond muttered painfully.

"No way in hell that's gonna happen, Larabee," Archer warned as he placed a hand on the blond's shoulder. "Doc, you get down them stairs and get over to the jail. Ya tell those men they'd best get out here so I can talk to 'em. Tell 'em I'd better see the six of 'em or I'll kill Larabee here and now!" Archer warned as he gripped the gunslinger's shoulder tightly.

"Look, just let him go and I'll help you get them out of jail," Metcalf pleaded.

"I don't think so, Doc. Larabee's my ace in the hole. His men'll do anything ta make sure he's safe. Now get goin' before I put a bullet in his leg. Make sure ya tell them they'd better be unarmed or he gets it!"

"F...fine," the blond mumbled as Archer pulled him back so he could use him as a shield.

"That's good 'cause yer gonna need ta stand on yer own two feet when my men get here. If'n yer real good I might even be convinced ta leave yer friends alone fer now," the outlaw laughed as he felt the blond's tense form against his own. "What do ya thing, Larabee? Ya willin' ta give up yer life fer yer friends?"

Metcalf rushed into the jail just as Dunne was locking the door to the cell. He saw the other five men and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What?" Sanchez snapped as he hurried to the door, the others quickly on his heels.

"Yeah. He said to tell you that all six of you'd better come out there or he'd kill Chris," Metcalf told them.

"Vin, you and Doc are about the same size. How would you feel about changing clothes?"

Standish grinned at the younger man. "I do believe we are about to pull the wool over Archer's eyes."

"Vin's gonna give the Doc his clothing and the doc will come out into the street with us," Wilmington explained.

"Giving me a chance to get on the roof across the street and hopefully take Archer out," Tanner told them. He turned to the whiskered man. "What do ya say, Doc, care to take on my job?"

"I'm gonna string him to the nearest tree!" Wilmington snarled as the tracker removed his coat.

"Doc, you're gonna have to stay behind us. I don't know if Archer's seen Vin close up so we don't want him to get a good look at you," Sanchez explained as the older man pulled on the buckskin jacket.

"Just keep him busy till I get in position," Tanner ordered as he picked up his mare's leg and headed out the back door.

Chris Larabee fought the agony searing through his back as Archer held his gun against the wound there. He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a groan, biting his lip and tasting blood, the pain minor compared to the constant throbbing of his back.

"Are ya in pain, Larabee? Not that it matters 'cause once we're outta here ya won't be feeling a thing. Well, well, well, looks like yer friends are comin' out and they ain't packin'. Now why don't ya call to them and get their attention for me."

"I'd rather they heard it from you," Archer snarled as he pressed his gun into the blood soaked bandage on the injured man's back. He laughed as a cry of pain ripped from the blond's throat. "That's perfect, Larabee. You should see how mad your friends are, even that one who wears the buckskin jacket," he laughed. "Now you boys listen up. I got yer leader up here and he's not lookin' to good! Probably cause he's bleedin all over the landin' up here. Now if ya do as I say he just might live ta see another day!" he shouted as he pulled the blond up straight and placed his gun to his head.

Larabee felt detached from the scene as the gun was placed to his head. He kept his mind on what he needed to do as the outlaw cocked the pistol. Breathing deeply he set himself to do what he needed to in order to prevent this man's escape.

Vin climbed onto the roof ignoring the sharp pain emanating from his injured shoulder. Hang on, Chris, he thought as he crawled to the edge and gazed across the street at the landing outside Nathan Jackson's clinic. The sight of his friend standing in front of Archer made his blood run cold.

He could see the way Larabee held himself he was in pain, but something about the blond's stance warned Vin he was about to do something dangerous. He could almost see the cold hatred in Larabee's green eyes. Not yet, Chris, just let me have a clear shot at the son of a bitch, he thought as he placed his mare's leg to his shoulder and waited for a clear shot of the outlaw.

"I don't think that's gonna happen," Archer shouted as he kept Larabee in front of him. He felt the taut muscles of his hostage's body and knew the man was getting ready to try something. "Don't even think about it, Larabee. I'll gun ya down before ya get a chance to make yer move."

His back was on fire and he felt the blood running from the wound. He had no idea how he stayed on his own two feet but he knew he needed to make his move quickly. The gun at his head wavered and in a desperate move he lunged forward, dropping to his knees and crying out as pain became his whole world.

"Son of a bitch," Tanner hissed as he sighted down on the outlaw and fired. He saw the man's head snap back and knew his shot was true. He turned away from the scene and hurriedly climbed down from the roof.

Jackson saw the outlaw's head snap back at the same time a gunshot sounded from the roof. In spite of the throbbing wound in his leg he hurried towards the stairs to the landing.

"Slow down, Nathan!" Metcalf shouted. "You won't do him any good if you open up your own wound!"

Jackson hobbled up the stairs and knelt beside the gunslinger. He could tell his friend was in agony and he knew he needed help fast. "He's bleeding bad, Doc," he said as the others crowded around them. "Chris?"

"He's dead, Chris," Sanchez assured him. The hole dead center of the man's forehead left no doubt about the voracity of his words.

"E...everyone o...okay?" he asked, moaning as Metcalf and Jackson worked over his back.

"Y...you okay, V..." Larabee started, but cried out as the doctor touched the tender area on his back.

"I'm fine, Chris," Tanner said as he reached for his friend's hand. He felt the grip tighten on his fingers and knew Larabee was in a lot of pain.

"We need to get him inside where I can work on him properly. Josiah, JD, Ezra, get me something to carry him on. I want to keep him as straight as possible."

"Chris, stay put," Metcalf ordered. "I don't want you moving around at all. I need to stop the bleeding and replace the stitches in your back. Now you just lie still and do as you're told!"

"Alright, Chris, we're gonna get you on this board and I want you to just lie still and let us do the work."

"D...don't seem to have much c...choice...can't s...seem to move my l...legs anymore," the gunslinger hissed.

"I don't know yet, Vin," Metcalf muttered as they placed the injured man on the board and carried him into the clinic. "Leave him on the board and put him on the table over there," Metcalf ordered as Ezra, JD and Josiah carried the injured man into the clinic.

Larabee groaned as they lowered the board. The pain in his back was worse than when the injury first occurred and he cried out as they removed his shirt.

Sanchez hurried to the small table by the bed and picked up the bottle. He passed it to Jackson and helped him feed the gunslinger a liberal dose before recapping it.

"That should help some, Chris," Jackson told him as he noted the new swelling and bruising around the re-opened gash.

"T...thanks," Larabee muttered, flinching as the doctor continued cleaning the wound.

"Hmm," Larabee hissed as he tried to control the trembling in his upper body. The pain began to ease and he wondered briefly why he couldn't move his legs as he surrendered to sleep.

"Give me a few more minutes, Vin," Metcalf ordered as he replaced the broken stitches. It took another half hour to finish the stitches and bandage the wound. Metcalf stretched the kinks out of his back and turned to the men crowded in the small room. "Let's get him back on the bed," he ordered.

Metcalf shook his head as Josiah, Ezra, and JD once more lifted the Board and carried their leader to the bed. "I'm afraid it comes down to the swelling again. We have to wait and see."

"But he'll be able to walk again, right, Doc?" JD asked as the doctor and Jackson eased the unconscious man unto the bed.

"I don't know," Metcalf told them. "He was just starting to walk again so I'm hoping the same thing will happen when the swelling goes down again. He's gonna need to be still and not try anything stupid."

"Chris? Do something stupid?" Wilmington said sarcastically, bringing a hint of a smile to the worried faces in the clinic.

"That may be, but it's gonna have to be done if he wants any chance of walking again. Now, I want to take a look at your leg, Nathan."

"I'll give you a hand," Wilmington said, knowing there'd be a lot of cleanup in the streets.

"Dammit if you people aren't the most stubborn bunch of jackasses I ever met. Now just shut up and sit down both of you. I got more to worry about than whether or not your wounds are infected."

"Looks like you'd better do as he says, Brothers," Sanchez laughed as he followed Dunne and Standish from the room.

Metcalf cleaned the wounds on the three men and told each of them to take it easy, something he knew would not happen. "Nathan, I want you to stay off that leg," he ordered.

"Don't argue with me, Nathan. You get over there and lie down or so help me I'll tie you to the bed. Okay, you two what's so funny?" Metcalf asked of the two laughing men.

"It's nice to see Nathan threatened with that for a change," Wilmington grinned as the healer sat on the edge of the bed.

A low moan from the blond gunslinger wiped the smiles from the faces of the men in the room. Chris Larabee was bathed in perspiration and his face was contorted in pain.

"How're you feeling, Chris," Metcalf asked softly as a pair of confused green eyes opened and stared at him.

"O...okay," Larabee answered. He looked around the room, taking in the pale faces of his friends as they stared openly at him. He tried to move but a strong hand on his shoulder effectively prevented any further movement on his part.

"Doc, I can't move my legs," the gunslinger groaned as he tried to move once more.

"That's probably because of the renewed swelling, Chris. Give it some time to go down and hopefully you'll be moving around again."

Larabee slowly nodded, his eyes meeting the blue eyes of the tracker. He could read the guilt written on the younger man's face and knew he was blaming himself once more. "Vin, t...thank y...you," he muttered.

"Fer what, Chris?" Tanner asked. Nearly getting ya killed and maybe costin' ya the use of yer legs, he thought.

"For saving my life out there. Archer was going to kill us all," Larabee grimaced as he watched his friend's features. "Vin, it wasn't your fault," he hissed as he let his eyes slide closed.

Yes it was, Cowboy, he thought angrily. Whatever happens, Chris, I'll be there fer ya, he silently vowed.

Chris heard voices and wondered why they were talking as if he wasn't in the room. He opened his eyes as pain jolted him completely awake. "Dammit!" he hissed.

"It's been nearly two days. I've got some water here for ya," Jackson explained.

Larabee smiled gratefully as Jackson lifted his head and helped him drink from the glass, not an easy feat with the gunslinger still lying on his stomach. Chris stared at the ladies man standing just behind Jackson. "T...the town okay?" he asked.

"Everyone's fine. Vin and Ez are out on patrol. JD and Josiah are at the jail. The judge should be here in a couple of days to put those men on trial."

"He's sleeping. The man's plum wore out. He seems to think we're all a bunch of stubborn jackasses," Jackson laughed.

"You've said the same thing yourself many times, Nate," Larabee quipped. "Nathan?"

Jackson heard the serious tone in the gunslinger's voice and knew what he was going to ask. "You need to give it time, Chris, there's still a lot of swelling," he told him.

"That's about it for now, Chris. Give it a few days and we'll give you something more."

The two men lapsed into silence as they waited for Wilmington to return from the saloon. Larabee's thoughts turned to the look on the sharpshooter's face when he'd last been awake. He knew the younger man was still carrying a load of guilt and he vowed to make sure that guilt was erased before it went any further. He knew the only way to wipe away that guilt was to make sure he got back on his own two feet. He opened his eyes as the door to the clinic opened and the ladies man entered carrying a tray covered with a linen napkin.

"Broth's never good, Buck, don't matter who makes it," Larabee hissed as he tried to turn on his side.

"Hang on, Chris," Jackson warned. "Buck, I'm gonna ease him onto his side. You put those pillows under him so he can lean onto them."

"Sure thing, Nate," Wilmington placed the tray on the small table and did as Jackson told him. By the time they had the gunslinger on his side, the man's face paled considerably and his fists were clenched at his side. "Easy does it, Stud," the ladies man rubbed the blond's exposed shoulder in an effort to help him through the new pain wracking his body.

"Here, Chris," Jackson held a spoonful of laudanum in front of the gunslinger's mouth and waited for him to take it. It was a testimony to how much pain Larabee was in when he took it without protest. "Just give it a couple of minutes and it should help."

With very little energy left the blond simply nodded. The pain eased off and Chris opened his eyes, grateful to see the two men still with him.

"Yeah," Larabee answered. With Wilmington and Jackson's help Chris finished off the broth and the juice Inez sent with it. With a mumbled thanks to the two men he let himself fall asleep once more.

"Buck, I wish I could tell you but I just don't know. He's still got some healin' to do before we even know if he can move his legs."

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it, Buck. Look, he was able to walk once the swelling went down the last time so there's hope that the same thing will happen this time. It's just a matter of waiting for it to happen."

Wilmington smiled at the tired healer. "No, Nathan, I don't think we are. Why don't you go on over an lie down for a while? I'll stay with him 'til the Doc comes back."

Jackson rubbed his eyes and nodded. "Just make sure he don't try to get off that bed."

Vin sat watching the sleeping man. It was a week since Archer and his gang came to Four Corners seeking revenge and leaving Larabee once more unable to move his legs. Aside from doing his patrol and staying with the injured gunslinger he'd been checking on Larabee's shack and making sure Pony was exercised daily. He closed his eyes and replayed the last incident with Archer and the shot he'd taken to save the blond's life.

Tanner opened his eyes and stared into the green eyes of his friend. "How're you feeling, Chris?" he asked.

"Better," Larabee answered and smiled at the unbelieving look in the younger man's eyes. "Really, Vin, it's not nearly as bad as it was. Maybe the swelling is finally going down just like Nathan and the Doc have been saying."

The sharpshooter stared out into the street, watching as the people of Four Corners walked around as if everything was right with the world and that walking was a natural part of their existence. Taking for granted the gift God had seen fit to bestow upon them. The gift of walking from one point to another without fear of losing that ability. "I's jest thinkin'" Tanner answered.

The words were barely audible, but for Chris Larabee they told the story of just how much his injuries were hurting the younger man. "Thinking about what?"

Tanner moved away from the window and faced the older man once more. "About how we take things fer granted," he answered.

"That's right you did," Larabee snarled angrily, ignoring the look of pain on the younger man's pale face. "You dropped the dynamite. It's all your fault 'cause you let them put a bullet in you. Oh, and while we're at it you might as well take the blame for Archer and his gang being there! Damn, that means you're guilty of them coming into town! Hell, for that matter you might as well take the blame for every God damned thing that's gone wrong in my life, and JD's and Josiah's and everyone else's!" the gunslinger's anger at the younger man's unfounded guilt made him push himself up on the bed. The resulting agonizing pain in his back made him gasp as he lay back on the bed and tried to curl into a tight ball.

"Moved what?" Larabee asked and belatedly realized what the younger man meant. He lifted his head and look down at his legs, surprised to see the were slightly bent. "I...I moved them!" he whispered.

"Yes, Cowboy, you did. I'm gonna go get Nathan and the Doc," Tanner grinned and moved to the door.

"This is something else for you to be guilty about," the gunslinger told him. "And I won't argue with you shouldering it." Tanner's face showed he didn't understand Larabee's meaning. "You're guilty of making me angry enough to move my legs, Pard," he said gratefully.

A slight nod and a hint of a real smile were the only hints of how much he appreciated Larabee's words.

Chris watched the younger man leave and concentrated on moving his legs once more. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he watched his legs. He wanted to turn onto his back and climb out of the bed before the others returned but knew that wasn't going to happen. He concentrated all his efforts on moving his legs and didn't hear the seven men hurry into the room.

Larabee looked at the newcomers, a thin smile on his still pale face. "I moved my legs, Doc," he said.

Jackson moved to the opposite side of the bed and helped ease the gunslinger onto his stomach once more.

The doctor and the healer examined the wound to Larabee's back, smiling at the decreased swelling and the lack of redness that were a constant presence since the injury first occurred.

The gunslinger concentrated on doing just that. The loud cheer that went up from the men in the room told him he'd succeeded.

"Very good, Chris," Metcalf grinned, he noted the exhaustion on his patient's face and knew the effort had taken a great deal out of the injured man. "Now just relax and try to sleep for awhile," he ordered.

"I'll sleep l...later," Larabee grumbled but found his eyelids closing in spite of his efforts to keep them open. "A...am kinda tired. T...thanks, V...Vin," he mumbled as he slipped into a healing sleep.

"He should be fine," Metcalf answered. "We're gonna need to work out a series of exercises for him to help him get his strength back. He's not gonna get up and start walking as if nothing happened. His back still needs to heal but I do believe he'll get full use of his legs back."

The smiles on the faces of the six peacekeepers showed how much the doctor's words meant to them. It would take some time but the men knew Chris Larabee would be back in the role of leader and each man was grateful they'd be whole once more.

It took several months and a lot of frustration on the part of each man before Larabee was able to make his way through the town without his friends hovering around him. He'd been grateful for their assistance as he'd learned to use his legs again and to conserve his energy. At first the effort of moving one step didn't seem worth the pain and the effort it took. As each day passed he found one of his friends there to encourage him to take one step and then another, until there came a time when he could walk to the door of the clinic unaided. That first small victory was the catalyst that led to larger steps until this day finally arrived. He walked slowly towards the saloon, feeling eyes on him as he finished the journey. His legs were aching but he'd done what he set out to do. He pushed open the saloon doors and smiled at the young man sitting in the table at the back. The guilt was finally erased from the sharpshooter's face as Larabee made his way to the table and sank into his usual chair.

The two men didn't need to say anymore. They'd both read the undercurrent in the statements and knew things were finally as they should be. They'd faced an adversary who'd nearly cost them their lives and once more celebrated victory. They were soon joined by the five other peacekeepers and Chris and Vin relaxed as the others used words to say what they could say with simple eye contact or a slight nod of the head. The seven were a unique group but the two men known as the leader and the sharpshooter had their own uniqueness that gave them an edge.

Chris smiled contentedly as he flexed his legs. Home, he thought as he looked from one man to the next. Home.

Tanner saw the look of contentment on Larabee's face and the last of the guilt left his mind. The life they'd chosen was a hard one and he knew they'd face more tests, but their friendship could withstand anything thrown their way. His eyes met Larabee's and he knew the man could read him like an open book. He smiled and relaxed in his chair, content to be among friends. Home, he thought as he looked from one man to the next until his gaze once more returned to the gunslinger. Home.