“You’re gettin’ pretty good at this,” Chris said, his hand hovering just at but not quite touching the small of Vin’s back as they made their way slowly across the small parlor.

Vin nodded slightly, his gaze fixed on the door that was his goal. They’d made it down the stairs and halfway through the parlor, and so far he’d not had to stop for a rest. As victories went it was a small one, but at this point he’d take what he could get.

Nonetheless, by the time they stepped out onto the porch, he was ready to sit down. Breathing hard and trembling from exertion, he let Chris ease him down into the sturdy wooden rocker Mrs. Collins had moved out here for him and settled back into its firm support with an unsteady sigh. A faint smile touched his lips as Larabee bent over him and tucked a brightly colored Indian blanket securely about him.

“An’ yer gettin’ purty good at this,” he breathed.

Chris lifted his head and grinned. “Just gives me an excuse ta touch ya without folks talkin’,” he said with a wink.

“Yeah?” Vin’s smile widened and turned wicked as he gazed into those brilliant green eyes. “I seem t’ recall that when I’s a little feller, my ma used t’ check me fer a fever by kissin’ my forehead.”

Larabee heaved an exaggerated sigh and straightened slowly, setting his hands on his hips and staring sternly down at the tracker, one blond brow climbing high in disapproval. “Do I look like your ma?”

Vin studied him for long moments, frowning in deep concentration, then shrugged. “Cain’t say fer sure,” he answered at last. “Mebbe if you was t’ put on Ezra’s purple dress, I could tell better.”

Chris laughed aloud at that, then dropped gracefully into the chair at Vin’s right and sat back, crossing one long leg loosely over the other. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he chuckled.

Vin scowled and shook his head. “If ya still gotta ask that, then y’ ain’t been payin’ attention,” he chided. “Goddamn uppity cowboy, don’t ever listen t’ nobody but yerself–”

“Cranky without a nap, aren’tcha?” Chris broke in mildly, lips twitching and eyes gleaming. “Guess next time after I feed and bathe ya, I’ll have ta remember ta put ya back ta bed, too.”

Vin considered that a moment, then smiled slowly. “Sounds good t’ me,” he rasped softly.

“God help me,” Chris groaned.

Vin wagged his eyebrows and smirked. “Y’ know what they say,” he drawled, canting his head slightly to one side, “the Lord helps them that helps themselves. So,” he licked his lips and winked, “feel free ta help yerself any ol’ time.”

Chris laughed again, a rich, warm sound that washed through Tanner like sunlight. “You are somethin’ else, partner,” he breathed, “you know that?”

“Hell,” Vin sighed contentedly, “y’ ain’t so bad yerself.” He winked again. “Fer a goddamn uppity cowboy.” Chris laughed again, and Vin knew he would never in his life get enough of that sound.

“Well, I was beginnin’ ta wonder if you were gonna come down an’ grace us with your presence today,” boomed a jovial voice.

Vin dragged his gaze from Chris and looked out into the street, tipping his head in greeting to the big man striding toward them. “Mornin’, Bucklin,” he called.

“Mornin’?” Wilmington stepped up onto the boardwalk and stopped before them, hitching his thumbs into his gunbelt and staring down at Vin in good-natured disapproval. “Hell, son, it ain’t been mornin’ fer a couple of hours now!” He sighed heavily and shook his head slowly, a mournful look crossing his face. “Never thought I’d say this, Vin, but you’re gettin’ as lazy as Ezra.”

Chris chuckled quietly and Vin shot a glare up at Wilmington. “Ain’t you got some poor woman t’ torment?” he growled, warmed by the big man’s teasing.

But Buck only sighed again and dropped with a loose-limbed ease into the chair at Vin’s right and across from Chris. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his thick dark hair, shaking his head slowly. “Now, Vin,” he said with an exaggerated patience, “y’ know I got t’ ration myself. Why, hell, if I was ta go about spreadin’ my favors an’ my charm all over town without pullin’ back now an’ then, I tell ya, son, it’d just be too much for these poor women! Their hearts wouldn’t be able ta stand the strain!” He fixed a resigned gaze on Tanner. “The Wilmington gift is a powerful force, Vin,” he lamented. “It’s got ta be parceled out with care, used responsibly, else things could just get ugly.”

“And we do all know how Buck hates ugly,” Chris put in with a smirk.

“Hmph,” Vin snorted. “It’s a shame he don’t feel the same about horse shit, ’cause it’s pilin’ up awful deep around here an’ I ain’t got a shovel.”

Buck scowled deeply at him, blue eyes narrowing but never losing their gleam. “Yer just jealous an’ ya know it, Vin,” he retorted. “I can’t help it that you don’t have my gift. A man’s either born with it or he ain’t.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad I wasn’t,” Vin deadpanned. “I cain’t abide flies.”

Chris snickered loudly and Buck shot him a hurt look. “You takin’ his side against me now, pard?” he accused, laying a hand to his heart as if he’d been mortally wounded. “After all we been through together–”

“Most of which you caused,” Chris pointed out with a grin.

Buck exhaled sharply and pulled his hand away from his heart to wave it dismissively. “Details, details. But I seem ta recall one or two scrapes that had your name all over ’em, ol’ son. You know,” he arched a dark brow and fixed a pointed stare on Larabee, “you wasn’t always the innocent bystander.”

“No,” Chris allowed, “just when you were around–”

Vin sat back in his chair and watched the by-play between the two, grinning at the barbs, insults and accusations that flew back and forth and marveling at the depth of the friendship that lay beneath them. He knew that Chris and Buck hadn’t always traveled an easy path together, knew they’d endured more than their share of anger, bitterness and sorrow. But he also knew that, somehow, they’d emerged from those dark times stronger and closer than ever, and couldn’t help but feel a touch of envy for them.

Maybe if he hadn’t always been so unwilling to trust, then he might’ve had something like this in his life, too.

“Now, look,” Buck was insisting hotly, “that cow puncher was just lookin’ for a fight–”

“Because you stole his girl!” Chris countered. “Right in the middle of a church social!”

“Wait a minute.” Vin snapped to attention at that and leaned forward, shifting his startled gaze between Larabee and Wilmington. “You two was at … a church social?”

“Hey, now,” Buck protested, scowling at the tracker, “y’ don’t have t’ say it like that! Stranger things have happened.”

“Name one,” he challenged.

Buck opened his mouth, but no answer came from him. He closed it again, frowned and scratched his jaw, then looked at Chris.

“Oh, no,” the gunman said, raising his hands, “I ain’t takin’ this one. You’re the one that was goin’ after the preacher’s daughter.”

Vin frowned in confusion. “I thought ya said he was after the cow puncher’s gal.”

“Nope.” Chris smirked at Buck, who was busy looking elsewhere. “He left with the cow puncher’s girl. He went with the preacher’s daughter.”

Vin whistled softly. “Damn, Bucklin,” he breathed in true amazement.

Buck turned back to him with a broad grin. “What’d I tell ya, son? It’s a gift.”

“Yeah, and that gift had us spendin’ the night in jail after bustin’ up the saloon with that cow puncher and his pards,” Chris said dryly.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who asked him if he’d culled his horse from a herd of sheep,” Buck retorted with a raised brow.

Vin turned to stare at Chris in outright disbelief. “You insulted a cowboy’s horse?”

Chris shrugged easily and sat back, grinning unrepentantly. “It was a real ugly horse.”

Vin laughed softly and shook his head. “Lord, it’s a wonder you two’ve lived so long!”

Buck’s face pulled into a suspicious frown and he looked at Larabee. “He just call us old?”

“Could be.” Larabee sat back in his chair and aimed a pointed stare at Vin. “Seems he’s forgettin’ he’ll likely need one of us old men ta help drag his young ass back up those stairs when he’s ready for his nap.”

“It’s a sad thing when the young’uns forget their place,” Buck sighed mournfully. He shook his dark head sadly. “No respect fer their elders or the wisdom that comes with age.”

Vin nearly choked at that. “Wisdom?” he gasped. “Hell, Bucklin, I reckon you do have a few things comin’ to ya, but I ain’t sure that wisdom’s among ’em.”

Buck frowned more deeply still and leaned toward Vin, seeming to listen closely to him. After a moment, he shot a worried glance at Larabee. “He’s soundin’ a mite hoarse there, Chris. Think one of us should go fer Nate, have him look at Vin’s throat? Maybe give him a dose of somethin’?”

“Hell no!” he answered sharply, never doubting that they’d do it. And Nathan, damn him, would be glad to pour more medicine into him, just on principle alone. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me! Chris, tell him–”

“Can’t hear ya, pard,” Larabee answered with a smirk. “Ears must be failin’ in my old age.”

He sat back in the rocker with a huff and glared at the two grinning gunmen. “Funny bastards, ain’tcha?” he growled. “An’ I never said y’all was old. Well,” he amended as a blond brow shot up in silent reminder of all the times he had said exactly that, “not this time, anyways.”

Chris started to answer, but was interrupted by a voice calling from down the boardwalk.

“Mr. Larabee!”

Following Chris’s gaze with his own, Vin saw Tiny coming toward them. The stout hostler wasn’t moving with any undue urgency, and all three men relaxed. As he drew nearer, his gaze fell on Vin and he smiled broadly in genuine delight.

“It’s good ta see ya gettin’ out more!” he greeted as he stopped just behind Buck. “You’re startin’ ta look a whole lot better, too.” He nodded firmly. “Reckon it won’t be too long before you can come down t’ the livery and visit Peso. He misses ya somethin’ awful.”

He felt a twinge of worry at that and stared up at the hostler. No one had told him of any problems with his horse, but he wasn’t entirely sure they would. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, and they likely wouldn’t want him to fret. “He’s all right, ain’t he?” he asked softly.

“Oh, sure, he’s fine,” Tiny assured him quickly. “Even behavin’ himself– Well,” he added with a wry smile, “as much as he ever behaves. He just misses ya is all.” He winked. “Don’t quite put all his heart into it when he bites these days.”

He smiled wistfully. “Reckon I miss him some, too,” he murmured. “Jist … tell him I’ll be by as soon as I can.” He knew it sounded strange, relaying a message to a horse, and to that horse in particular, but he also knew that Tiny understood.

“I’ll sure tell him,” the hostler agreed. Then he turned to Chris. “Speakin’ of horses, I looked at Pony’s shoes like y’ asked me to. Sure enough, that one we put on the other day just ain’t fittin’ right. I don’t think it’s botherin’ him too bad just yet, but we prob’ly oughtta reset it now, before it does.”

Chris sighed and grimaced. “I think you’re right. He doesn’t seem to like the feel of it, that’s for sure. Was kinda pullin’ his stride up short on that foot like it might be gettin’ sore.” He thought for a few moments, then turned to Vin and eyed him questioningly. “I need ta go take a look at him. You gonna be okay down here for a while?”

Vin rolled his eyes at the inference that he couldn’t just sit here without getting into some trouble. “Go on,” he urged. “I won’t fall outta my chair, I promise.”

Still Chris hesitated, his eyes searching the tracker’s face intently as if for some sign that he wasn’t well. “I could be a while. If you get tired–”

“I’ll stay with him,” Buck volunteered easily, settling back in his chair. “If he gets tired, I’ll help him upstairs. If not,” he winked, “I can just pass the time givin’ him the benefit of more of my wisdom.”

“Oh, Lord!” Vin groaned in mock dismay. “Take me with ya, Chris, please!”

Larabee gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. “Sorry, pard, I can’t do that. Nathan’d have my hide for a rug if he knew I was lettin’ you get anywhere near Peso. Besides, it’ll do ya good ta sit with Buck and listen to him a while. Give you an idea of what I’ve put up with all these years.” He winked, then turned and walked away with Tiny.

And try as he might, Vin couldn’t stop his gaze from following Chris. Not with any lustful intent, or none of which he was aware, but simply because he wanted, needed, to hold on to the warmth and light the man brought to him for as long as he could.

“It’s good ta have him back,” Buck mused softly, drawing him out of his reverie.

He blinked and turned back to Wilmington, startled by the pensive look on the man’s face as he, too, followed Chris with his gaze. “Back?” he asked, confused by the soft words. “He wasn’t gone anywhere.”

Buck continued to watch Larabee’s departing figure, a look of sorrow playing across his expressive face. “Yeah, he was. At least the man that just left was. Disappeared when we buried Sarah an’ Adam, and somebody I didn’t know took his place. Somebody I didn’t much like. For three long years the man I knew was gone, an’ I thought I’d never see him again. Hurt like hell.” He turned his gaze back to Vin, deep blue eyes seeming to study every facet of the tracker’s face, then nodded once firmly as if a decision had been made. “But he’s back now, laughin’, jokin’, reachin’ fer the good memories instead of clingin’ to the bad. He’s healin’. He’s happy. An’ it’s because a’ you.”

Despite the kindness of the words, Vin stiffened in his chair and felt a wave of uneasiness roll through him. Buck hadn’t spoken to him of the change in his relationship with Chris since that half-remembered night in the clinic, and he’d been grateful for that silence. The man had told him then that it was all right, that he understood. But Buck had also thought he was dying, and could well have been telling him what he needed to hear so he might die in peace.

It would be so like him to do that.

Only everything was different now. It was easy not to have a problem with his oldest friend loving another man when he thought that man was dying. But he hadn’t died, wouldn’t die, and that had to cast everything in a different light. Rather than helping them through their final hours together, Buck was now faced with watching them build a life together. And what hadn’t mattered that night in the clinic had to matter a helluva lot now.

Vin wouldn’t have minded if Wilmington had held his silence until one of them really did die.

“Buck–”

“No, lemme say my piece, Vin,” the big man entreated softly, blue eyes unusually serious.

He swallowed hard and nodded faintly, hardly daring to move, hardly daring even to breathe, feeling trapped and frightfully vulnerable. Weak as he was, he had no way of getting away from Buck if he needed to, had no way to defend himself against whatever was coming. The man could stand up and denounce him before all the town right now, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

For the first time in a long damn time, Vin Tanner was afraid.

Buck seemed to see that and smiled sadly. “Scared ta death of me right now, ain’tcha, son?” he sighed. “But, hell, I reckon you feel you got cause ta be. Reckon you’ve seen too much not ta be.” He winced deeply and shook his head slowly. “Hell, I reckon you’ve seen enough hurt in yer life that ya just kinda come t’ expect it.”

He wasn’t sure he liked that shrewd assessment of him, of his life, wasn’t sure he liked the fact that this man seemed to read him so easily. Again feeling more vulnerable than he cared to be, he dropped his gaze to the hands clasped tightly together in his lap and gave a half-hearted shrug, unwilling to give any more away than he had to. “Seen my share,” he rasped.

“Seen more’n yer share, if Alvin Harper’s anything ta go by,” Buck guessed, sending Vin’s stomach into a slow, sick roll. “Chris ain’t said nothin’,” the big man quickly assured him, “and I know he never will, but I think I got a pretty good idea of what that bastard wanted with ya. What he wanted from ya.”

Vin simply sat in silence, not sure if Wilmington expected an answer from him, but sure as hell that he had none he cared to give.

“Need ya ta listen to me, Vin,” Buck urged, pitching his voice to a low and gentle tone. He leaned forward in his chair as if to make certain that his words carried no further than the tracker’s ears. “I don’t know if you remember what I told ya that night in the clinic, and, if ya do, I don’t know if you believe me. Gotta be easy sayin’ such things to a dyin’ man, right? Easy ta tell him what he wants ta hear.”

Vin flinched at that and closed his eyes as Buck’s words echoed his own thoughts. He’d forgotten just how sharp was the mind beneath that easy charm and good nature. He wouldn’t forget again.

If Buck noticed his discomfort he gave no sign of it, seemed determined to have his say. “But I need you ta know that what I said that night is true, Vin. I wouldn’t lie about such a thing, son, even if I thought it would ease yer dyin’. I know how you and Chris feel about each other, I know what y’all got together. Reckon mebbe I’ve known all along, even when I told myself I didn’t want to. An’, hell, mebbe it is wrong. I know an awful lotta folks say it is–”

“Do more’n jist say it,” he muttered in a low, hoarse voice, opening his eyes and watching Buck intently from beneath lowered lashes, trying to gauge his true feelings. “Got things they do about it. Bad things. Folks’ll tolerate a lotta things, but not two men lovin’ each other. An’ I’ve seen what God-fearin’ folks can do in the name of Christian decency.”

“Yeah,” Buck sighed, clasping his own hands together in his lap and bowing his head to stare at them, “I’ve seen it, too. Grew up seein’ it. An’ not just when it’s two men lovin’ each other.”

Vin raised his head then and looked at the man, touched by the note of pain in his voice. He remembered what Chris had told him about Buck’s mother after that whole Wickestown mess, about how she’d been forced to support her son and what that son had grown up seeing. It had explained a lot about Buck’s feelings toward women, his fierce desire to protect them, his true respect for them, his absolute refusal to hurt them. Like all the others in their band, Vin teased the man mercilessly about his notorious weakness for women. But, like all the others, he also knew no woman could have a more ardent admirer or a more devoted champion than Buck Wilmington.

Buck’s “weakness” was one more men would do well to have.

Wilmington lifted his head then and stared directly at Vin, blue eyes unflinching in their honesty. “I want you ta know,” he said quietly, “that if I have anything ta do with it, none of that will ever happen ta you and Chris.”

Vin gasped softly and stiffened, startled by the words. By the promise. “Buck–”

“Chris is my oldest friend,” Wilmington went on as if Vin had never spoken. “Closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother. I’d die for that man and I’d kill for him. Have already, more than once, and I’m not ashamed ta say it.” Buck paused a moment, drew a slow, deep breath and reached out carefully, setting a big hand lightly on his knee. He flinched beneath that touch and instinctively tried to move away, but Buck’s hand stayed where it was, refusing to be moved but never once losing its gentleness. “I saw what he became after Sarah and Adam died,” he murmured hoarsely, pain and sorrow spilling from every line of his body. “Watched the man I knew and loved like a part of myself wither up and die right along with ’em, watched him bury his heart and soul along with his wife and son. And I gotta tell ya, Vin,” he said in a soft, broken voice, “seein’ that damn near killed me.” Tears shone in his eyes and slid down his cheeks, but he made no move to brush them away. “Chris was trapped in hell,” he whispered, “and I couldn’t find any way ta pull him out!”

Unable to help himself, Vin unclasped his hands and laid one tentatively over Buck’s, amazed at how right it felt to do so. He’d long since gotten out of the habit of touching others; these men seemed determined to bring that back to him, too. “Ya done what ya could,” he said softly, knowing that with an instinctive certainty. “Stayed with him, took care of him, helped him. An’ he ain’t always an easy man ta help, I know that. But he couldn’ta had anybody with him better suited t’ the task.”

“He’s got you,” Buck breathed, no trace of malice or resentment in the words. He smiled slightly. “An’ you’ve done more for him in the short while you’ve known him than I have in years. ’Cause while I could give him a lotta things, Vin, only you can give him love.”

A hot blush seared through his cheeks and he bowed his head to hide it, deeply flustered to hear so private and intimate a thing spoken aloud by another. By another who had such power to hurt him, to hurt Chris, and who threw that power aside without a second thought.

“And I got no doubt in my mind that you do love him, or that he loves you,” Buck went on just as softly. “I can see it in the way he looks at ya, the way he treats ya, the way he’s been takin’ care of ya. The only other person he was ever this way with was Sarah. The only other person he was ever this happy with, this whole with, was Sarah.” He squeezed Vin’s knee lightly and waited, then smiled gently as the tracker lifted his head and again met his gaze. “He does love ya, Vin. Loves ya with ever’thing he’s got inside him. Don’t ya see, son? You brought back the part of him that can love. You freed him from hell, gave him back his life and gave him a reason ta start livin’ that life. And as far as I’m concerned, that makes what you two got more right than anything I’ve seen in a long damn time.”

Vin swallowed hard past the knot forming in his throat, unable for long moments to find his voice. The feelings Buck revealed to him, their enormity and depth, stunned him, touched him, awed him, made him realize yet again what a priceless treasure Chris, all of them, had in this man and his friendship.

How could he ever have thought he had anything to fear from Buck?

When at last he could speak, he tightened his fingers over Buck’s and leaned forward to stare directly into the man’s eyes. He drew a deep breath, unaccustomed to speaking of such things aloud, but knowing he owed this to the man who’d been so honest with him. “I know what he means to ya, Buck, an’ I swear to ya, I’m gonna take care of him like he deserves. All’s I want is fer him ta be happy, an’ I’m gonna do all I can ta make sure he is. Ya won’t ever have ta worry about him again. I promise.”

Buck chuckled softly and shook his head slightly. “Hell, son, I know that! You been takin’ care of him ever since y’all hooked up, givin’ him back those pieces of himself he was so sure he’d lost. But he’s been doin’ the very same fer you.” He squeezed Vin’s knee once more, then pulled his hand away and sat back in his chair, eyeing the tracker speculatively. “You’re good for him, Vin,” he said quietly, “I’ll be the first one t’ admit that. But it don’t just work one way.” He nodded slowly. “He’s given you as much as you’ve given him.”

Vin sat up straight and blinked, startled by Buck’s words. “Well … yeah,” he answered, figuring it had to be obvious. “He loves me–”

“But it’s what that love’s done for ya that I’m talkin’ about,” Buck said. “What it’s given ya.” He frowned thoughtfully, his gaze still intent on the tracker. “I don’t know much about yer life, Vin,” he said quietly, “but I got a pretty good idea that you’ve spent an awful lot of it, likely too much of it, alone. Prob’ly ain’t ever had just a whole lotta folks you could count on ta be there when ya needed ’em. Ain’t ever had a whole lotta reason ta trust folks, t’ believe in ’em. Ain’t used to ’em believin’ in you. Then Chris came along and all that changed, didn’t it?”

Again, he couldn’t speak, could only stare at Buck and nod faintly. Lord God, had it changed!

Buck smiled slightly and gave a nod of his own. “Thought so,” he breathed. “You spent a lotta time in the shadows, Vin, got ta thinkin’ that’s where you belonged, the only place you were safe. Then Chris come along and drew ya out inta the light, showed ya you had a place there, too, at his side. Held out his hand to ya an’ didn’t snatch it away the first time you reached for it. Didn’t turn away the first time ya needed him. Ain’t turned away yet, even though I’ve seen you push a time or two.”

Vin winced and dropped his gaze. “Reckon I jist … needed ta see … fer m’self,” he admitted softly.

“Yeah, I know,” Buck sighed, sorrow again creasing his face. “Hell, I reckon you’ve been let down so much, left alone so much, that you just kinda come t’ expect it. Only with Chris, ya know it ain’t gonna be like that ever again. And then you got ta thinkin’ that if he ain’t gonna leave, then mebbe others won’t either. So ya started believin’ in the rest of us a little more, trustin’ us a little more. Dependin’ on us a little more. Lettin’ us do for ya when ya can’t do for yourself.”

“Hell,” he rasped, again lifting his gaze to Buck’s and smiling ruefully at the man, “seems like these past few weeks that’s all I been doin’. Cain’t hardly do nothin’ fer myself. Need y’all fer jist about ever’ little thing–”

“And that’s all right,” Buck said softly, fervently, leaning forward again. “That’s what we’re here for, Vin, it’s what friends do fer each other. You’d do the same fer any of us. Hell, ya have often enough already!” He reached out once more and laid a gentle hand on Tanner’s knee. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with needin’ folks, Vin. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with needin’ us. Mebbe we won’t always be able ta help ya, but at least we won’t ever turn our backs on ya. And I reckon that’s gotta count fer somethin’, right?”

Vin stared down at the hand on his knee, felt both the strength and the gentleness in it, then lifted his eyes to Buck’s and read the concern, the understanding, in them. He drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, then again laid his hand over Buck’s, knowing without a trace of doubt that it was safe to do so.

“Yeah,” he finally answered, his voice soft but sure, “it does. An’ fer a helluva lot more’n you could ever know.”

He continued to mend, though at a much slower pace than he would’ve liked. Even after his wound ceased to trouble him, the effects of the terrible blood loss continued to plague him, keeping him in a constant state of weakness and fatigue. Even the short walks to the saloon, jail, newspaper office or mercantile exhausted him, and, to his humiliation, he frequently dropped off to sleep in the middle of conversations or card games with the boys. Between the chronic fatigue and the headaches that often accompanied it, his ability to concentrate for any length of time was so impaired that many times he had to cut short his reading lessons with Mary.

Though with Chris helping him now, he didn’t fret so over that.

But there were things he missed, such as taking his morning coffee on the steps of the church with Josiah and the talks they shared as they watched the sun rise. He loved listening to the man’s stories of distant places and different cultures, marveled at all he’d seen and done. Even more he marveled at the former preacher’s wisdom, even as he ached for some of his weaknesses.

But, Lord, who among them didn’t have his share and more of those?

Since his wounding, though, he slept too late to enjoy such times of quiet camaraderie. He hadn’t seen a sunrise since he’d been shot and he missed them dearly, missed watching a new day dawn with its promises of hope and renewal. By the time he woke, the day was already well under way, already used up and dirtied by people whose lives were going on while his seemed to be standing still. And where once he would’ve just mounted up and ridden out to find his own place and way to start fresh, he couldn’t do that now. Even had he been able to slip past the ever-watchful eyes of his friends and make it to the livery undetected, the simple act of getting a saddle on Peso likely would’ve had him passed out in the straw under the gelding’s dangerous hooves.

And he didn’t even want to think about what riding the fractious horse would do to him.

Except that he did think about it, couldn’t help thinking about it. Couldn’t help taking an almost daily inventory of all the things he wanted to do but couldn’t, all the small habits and chores and duties and pleasures stolen from him by Alvin Harper’s bullet. The sonuvabitch hadn’t killed him, but sometimes, sometimes Vin thought that by imprisoning him in a body too weak to be of any real use to him and proving much too slow to heal the bastard had done even worse.

Even from the grave, Alvin was still taking from him.

He tried to tell himself that this was only temporary, that the day would come when he would be back to his old self and could get back to his old life. Tried to find in himself the patience he’d always had, had been forced to learn, to sit out a bad spell and wait for better times. Except that now, here, in this town with these men, was the absolute best time he’d ever known in his life and he didn’t want to waste a moment. He knew – Lord, how he knew! – how easily such times and such men could be taken from him, how quickly the best could plummet right back into the worst, and he was haunted by the fear that if he didn’t take every moment with them that he could now, he’d never get the chance again.

In the past, he could be patient because he had nothing to lose. Now, suddenly, he had everything to lose, and patience was awful damn hard to come by when he was so painfully aware of just how quickly he could lose it.

Still he tried to be patient, tried to give his body the time Nathan said it needed to heal, tried to concentrate on what he could do and not dwell on what he couldn’t. It was hard, though, especially since the “couldn’ts” seemed to far outnumber the “coulds.” And it didn’t help that every time one of the “couldn’ts” shifted over to the “coulds,” another goddamn “couldn’t” popped up to take its place.

Nathan finally said he could have a beer. Only one a day, though, and only if he was eating. But he couldn’t have whiskey.

He could finally manage the stairs well enough to use the privy instead of that damned chamber pot. But not when it was dark; at least, not by himself. Chris had made him promise that he wouldn’t attempt the stairs at night by himself lest he miss his footing and fall.

It was humiliating.

And it was starting to get to him. He’d thought that when he started feeling better, the boys would stop watching him so closely; he’d been wrong. If anything, the more he was able to do, the more closely they watched him, as if worried he’d do too much. And he did from time to time, he knew that. A few times it even landed him back in bed, and at the business end of some hide-searing lectures from Chris and Nathan.

But, damn it, couldn’t they see that he’d never know what he could do unless he tried? He was stubborn, not stupid, and he really needed them to understand the difference.

So it was entirely possible that he was becoming a mite snappish with the boys. He knew it was wrong, knew none of this was their fault, knew they were only trying to show their concern for him. And that was fine. He appreciated it. Lord knew he’d never had its like before.

But he wanted it to stop. Needed it to stop. He wasn’t used to so much attention, was uncomfortable with it, didn’t know how to react to it. There were times he still needed help, and he was deeply grateful for it when he got it. But he also got it when he didn’t need it, and that was what irritated him so. His was a deeply independent nature, and he needed to do for himself what he could. And, sometimes, he needed to learn the hard way what he couldn’t do.

Needed the boys, concerned as they were, just to pull back some and let him breathe. Let him try his wings.

And maybe if he’d been better with words he could’ve found some way of explaining himself so that they’d understand that. But he wasn’t, so he couldn’t. What he did instead was snap. And snarl. And impatiently push away the hands that reached out to steady him when he stumbled or to ease him into a chair when he was tired.

And sometimes, Lord, sometimes he told himself he just wanted them all to go away, though he knew that wasn’t what he wanted at all. What he really wanted was to go away himself, to be able to go away, to be able to go down to the livery, saddle up Peso and ride like hell for the hills, where he could be stubborn and, yes, damn it, stupid without anybody around to hold him back. Wanted the boys to let him off his leash, wanted not just to try his wings, but to test them …

To fly …

“How’s that sound, Vin? Vin?”

He looked up sharply and blinked at the sound of his name, pulled from his reverie by the insistent young voice across the table from him. JD was leaning on the table and staring expectantly at him, and he realized he had no idea why. “What?”

In the chair beside him, Chris gave a slow, soft sigh and bowed his head, while JD just continued to stare at him, still waiting. And the irritation that was a constant pressure within him these days rose a notch higher at that realization. Seemed here lately they were always waiting for him, slowing down for him, shortening their strides, repeating themselves when he dozed off or his mind wandered …

And he hated it.

“I wasn’t listenin’,” he admitted curtly, dropping his gaze from JD’s face to the glass of beer before him. The single glass that was today’s ration. And that he’d better drink before Nathan discovered he’d lied about already having eaten.

“Oh. Well,” JD sat back in his chair and shrugged, “I was just sayin’–”

From beneath lowered lashes, Vin saw Buck, at his left and JD’s right, give the boy a small shake of his head and a frown, saw JD stare at him in confusion. Buck frowned again, tipped his head slightly in Vin’s direction, and JD’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension.

“Never mind,” the boy said, tossing a quick smile at him. “It’s probably a bad idea.”

The irritation rose higher, reached his throat and almost choked him. He clenched his jaw reflexively, his whole body tensing with it, and narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Y’ didn’t think so a minute ago,” he said softly, hearing the edge in his voice but unable to help it. JD turned his head to glance at Buck, as if for direction, but Vin leaned forward and rapped his knuckles sharply against the table. “Fergit Bucklin an’ talk ta me,” he rasped coldly. “Might need help with some things yet, but I c’n still make my own decisions.”

Chris shifted in his chair. “Vin–”

“He wanted t’ ask me somethin’,” he snapped, slanting a glare at Larabee. “Why’n’t y’all back off an’ let him?”

Chris frowned, but subsided. Buck looked as if he would protest, but Chris warned him off with a shake of his head and the big man sat back, though his face remained tight with worry.

JD was obviously uneasy with the sudden tension around the table, but he made just as obvious an effort to relax, smiling wryly at Vin. “It’s not really anything important,” he said with a shrug. “It was just an idea.” He paused a beat but, when Vin didn’t say anything to encourage or stop him, just plunged on ahead. “Well, I know you’ve gotta be tired of stayin’ in town all the time, and I thought it might do ya good ta get away for a while. So I was thinkin’,” his hazel eyes lit up and he smiled broadly, leaning forward once more, “maybe we could go fishin’, out to Miller’s Creek. It’s not too far, and there’s lots of shade so you shouldn’t get too hot. Maybe we could ask Miz Collins ta pack us a lunch …”

A tingle of anticipation shot through him and he sat up straight, his gaze intent on JD’s face. A ride out of town, even a short one, and an afternoon of fishing, with nobody around to fuss over him except JD, who didn’t really feel comfortable fussing over his older friends anyway …

“… and I could help ya when ya get too tired,” the boy went on eagerly. “I’ll take care of the fish, hell, I’ll take care of everything! You won’t have ta do a thing except sit there …”

The tingle died and the irritation returned, scouring his raw nerves. Hell, they didn’t even think he could handle a few fish! “You’re gonna do all the work, huh?” he asked in a low, hard voice. “I reckon that means yer gonna lift me inta the saddle, too?”

Buck and Chris both sat upright in their chairs as if bracing for trouble, but JD only laughed. “Oh, hell, Vin, you can’t ride a horse!” he answered, the ill-advised words raking like talons across the tracker’s already wounded pride. “You know what Nathan would do if he saw you on Peso? You’d end up back in the clinic and tied ta the bed! No, I figured we’d take a wagon. Borrow one from Tiny. I’ll drive. You can ride up on the seat with me, or even stretch out in the back and sleep if you wanta–”

And it was too much. Irritation exploded into anger and he shot to his feet with a sudden violence, knocking his chair to the floor behind him and startling JD. “Got it all figgered out, don’tcha?” he snarled, slamming a hand onto the table with such force that all three men jumped in surprise. “I ain’t gotta lift a finger. Hell,” he spat, glaring into JD’s wide, shocked eyes, “I bet ya’d bait m’ hook an’ hold the pole fer me, too, wouldn’t ya? All’s I gotta do is stretch out an’ go ta sleep like a baby while you do ever’thing else!”

“But … I thought you’d like–”

“Ya thought wrong, kid!” he growled. He could see JD’s hurt and confusion, could feel Chris and Buck’s stirring anger, but none of it mattered to him. He wasn’t helpless, and he wouldn’t be treated as if he were. “I don’t need ta stretch out in no goddamn wagon, an’ I don’t need nobody doin’ ever’thing but my breathin’ fer me. Yeah, I do need ta git outta town,” he sneered, “but not with any of y’all along ta hold my hand! Shit, y’all are what I need ta git away from!” He turned on his heel and stalked away from the table, anger and resentment churning hotly within him.

“Vin.”

Chris’s voice stopped him just as he reached the doors. He turned slowly around and saw Larabee standing straight and tall, green eyes intent upon him. The man looked more worried than angry, and that only sent his own anger into a higher boil.

They wouldn’t even fight with him anymore!

“If you’re gonna shoot me,” he snarled, “best go ahead an’ do it. ’Cause that’s the only way yer gonna stop me.” With that, he turned again and slammed through the batwing doors, desperate to escape the walls and the friends hemming him in.

He strode furiously down the boardwalk, scowling at anyone who came too close, ignoring all greetings, shoving past those who didn’t step aside quickly enough. His chest and throat were painfully tight, his heart was pounding and his head was throbbing. His jaws and his hands were tightly clenched, and he wanted nothing more than for someone, anyone, to give him a reason to start punching.

But no one did. Warned off either by his expression or savage snarls and by now well-acquainted with their peacekeepers’ volatile tempers, the townsfolk wisely kept their distance, even going so far as to pull each other out of his path. Spitting curses in English, Spanish and various Indian dialects, he continued to stalk down the boardwalk in a mounting fury, an explosion about to erupt.

Jesus, how could they? A wagon! As if being seen helped onto and then riding out of town on one of those things would somehow make him feel better! Shit, why didn’t they just toss that wheeled chair in the back for good measure? Make his humiliation complete!

Oh, hell, Vin, you can’t ride a horse!

There it was again. Can’t. Couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Don’t.

As if any of them had the right to tell him what he could or couldn’t do!

You’d end up back in the clinic and tied ta the bed!

Goddamn it, he’d like to see ’em try! He’d lose in the end, he knew that; hell, he always lost in the end these days. But he’d give ’em one hell of a fight before he did!

Without any real conscious thought, driven only by instinct and anger, he crossed the street in front of Virginia’s Hotel and continued down the walk, heading for the one place that had been firmly refused to him all these weeks.

The livery.

Peso.

To his relief, the doors were open when he got there, so he didn’t have to wrestle with them. Exhaling sharply and shaking his head tightly, blinking eyes that felt suspiciously wet, he strode into the huge stable and past Tiny, who rose abruptly from the bench where he’d been sitting to gawk at him, to Peso’s stall.

Peso’s empty stall.

The sight stopped him short and drew a hard, gusting breath from him, sent a tremor of fear and anger through him. He stared a moment longer in stunned disbelief, then whirled around and speared Tiny with a glare. “Where is he?” he demanded hoarsely, advancing furiously on the startled hostler. “Where the hell’s my horse?”

Tiny backed away slowly, clutching the bridle he’d been repairing to his chest with shaking hands, eyes huge in his bearded face. He darted a nervous glance at the stall, as if hoping the missing horse might have miraculously reappeared, then looked back to Vin, swallowed noisily and licked his lips. “He … he ain’t here,” he stammered rather needlessly.

“Goddamn it, I c’n see that!” he shouted, voice and body shaking uncontrollably as his rage burned beyond restraint. “Where the goddamn hell is my fuckin’ horse?”

By now, Tiny was near the gaping doors, a fact obviously not lost on him. With a last, pleading look at Vin, he blurted, “I don’t know. Chris took him off somewhere yesterday!” And before Vin could come any closer, he turned and bolted for the doors, disappearing through them.

He stared after Tiny in numb shock as the words pierced his brain. Chris took him off somewhere yesterday! Goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn that arrogant bastard!

With a harsh, hoarse, wordless cry, he spun around and kicked out viciously at the nearest object, sending a bucket flying into the door of his horse’s empty stall. He spotted the bridle Tiny had dropped in his flight and bent down to snatch it off the floor, then flung it into the wall with another cry.

Goddamn it, how could he do this? How dare he do this? What gave him the right to take away Peso, his horse, his only means of escape, his freedom? What gave the sonuvabitch the right to take that away, to take anything away?

Jesus fuckin’ Christ, hadn’t other men taken enough from him already? Was Larabee gonna add his name to that list now, too?

Chris took him off somewhere yesterday!

Goddamn it, what gave the man that right? He found another bucket, kicked it and sent it flying, then bent over to retrieve the small stool Tiny sometimes sat on while cleaning hooves and hurled it into a wall.

“Sonuvabitch!” he yelled.

All his rage, frustration and hurt poured from him in a bitter, burning tide, demanding and getting physical release. He swore foully, threw whatever he could lift, kicked and pounded stall doors, railing against this latest betrayal and all the others that had come before. The thin veneer of resigned acceptance he’d shown these past few weeks was ripped away, revealing the seething, almost insane fury that roiled at his core.

How dare Chris take from him, too? How dare the man help himself to what he had no right to? How dare the man do what so many others had done? What Alvin had done–

Oh, Christ, Alvin!

A savage cry, almost a shriek, ripped from him at thought of the man who had caused all this, who had started all this so many years ago, and he snatched a set of reins from the peg where Tiny had them hanging for repair. With another wild, wordless cry, he began whipping the reins fiercely against one of the stout posts supporting the roof as if Alvin Harper were lashed to it. He’d tried telling himself that he understood what Alvin had done and why, had told himself that he felt no hatred for the man, only understanding and pity, that, knowing him as he did, he could even forgive him.

But he’d lied. Badly. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, not what Alvin had done in the saloon, not what he’d done all those years ago. The sonuvabitch had twisted him in ways he was still discovering, had bent and damn near broken him, had shattered his ability to trust and crippled his ability to love. And had claimed it all as his right. No, he didn’t understand, would never understand.

And he’d never forgive.

God, God, what right had he had to do it back then? What right had he had to show up weeks ago and try to do it all over again? To stand before him and lay claim to him, shoot him–

Goddamn it, goddamn it, when was it ever enough?

Another curse ripped from him and he tried to lash the reins against the post once more, but lost his footing and went down hard on his knees in the straw. He tried to rise but couldn’t, his strength deserting him in a rush, the reins dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers. Still angry, still hurt, still frustrated, he threw back his head and loosed another hoarse, anguished cry, then slumped forward, exhausted, and buried his face in shaking hands.

Oh, God. Lord God …

“You done?”

The quiet voice startled him, brought his head up sharply and pulled him halfway to his feet before he fell to his knees again. Staring at the doorway, at the dark figure silhouetted against bright sunlight, he swore softly and scowled.

“You got a helluva lotta nerve comin’ in here!” he snarled venomously. “Tiny told me whatcha done!”

“And he told me you’re tryin’ ta take apart his livery.” Larabee took a few moments to pull the heavy door closed, as if determined to keep anyone from witnessing whatever happened next. Then he turned back to Vin and strode slowly forward, seemingly relaxed yet with that alertness for trouble that never left him. “There any particular reason why?”

“Maybe ’cause some low-down, cold-hearted sonuvabitch stole m’ horse!” he spat, staring up at Larabee. He wanted to stand, but knew he’d only fall again and refused to do that before this man. He’d lost too much already. He wouldn’t lose his pride, too. “You take him away so’s I couldn’t stage a prison break?”

But Chris only sighed and dropped gracefully into a squat before him, gazing evenly at him. “I didn’t steal him,” he said quietly. “He’s out at my place. He’s been gettin’ hard ta handle from bein’ cooped up so long, so I took him out there and turned him out to pasture. Figured he’d appreciate his freedom.”

“Nice ta know yer so concerned about m’ horse,” he said bitingly.

Chris winced and reached out to touch his face, but he pulled away with a soft hiss. Chris sighed and dropped his hand, sorrow flooding his face. “You know I woulda told ya,” he said softly.

“When?” he snarled.

Chris sighed yet again, and even through his anger Vin wondered what it was in him that brought that mournful sound out of the man. “Would you believe me if I said I was plannin’ to do it today?”

Vin searched his face intently and saw no sign of deception there. Then realized he never had. Alone of almost all the men he’d ever known, Chris had never lied to him, had never offered him false promises, had never offered him anything but the truth that came straight from his heart and soul.

The heart and soul he’d offered along with that truth.

“Yeah, I would,” he finally admitted, letting go of his anger at this man at least. “Hell,” he breathed, raking a shaking hand through his hair, “I reckon I’d b’lieve near anything ya told me. An’ don’t think I don’t know jist how pitiful that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound pitiful ta me,” Chris said gently, again reaching for his face. “Sounds kinda nice, in fact. Like maybe you trust me.”

This time he let those fingers reach him, let them touch him, brush away the tears he hadn’t realized he’d shed, and felt something inside him relax. Lord, didn’t he trust this man? “Sorry I accused you of stealin’ Peso,” he murmured, closing his eyes and turning his cheek into that loving hand. “Shoulda known better.”

“Yeah, you shoulda,” Chris agreed quietly. “But I don’t think you were thinkin’ real clear.” He tapped Vin’s cheek lightly with a forefinger and arched a brow when Tanner looked up at him. “Wanta tell me what this is really about?”

It was his turn to sigh and he did so heavily as he sat back on the straw-covered floor, crossing his legs before him. “Reckon it all jist … got t’ me,” he rasped softly, bowing his head and staring at the floor between his legs. “I’m tired of bein’ so weak all the time, I’m tired of always hearin’ about the things I cain’t do, I’m tired of bein’ watched like I ain’t got enough sense not ta kill myself–”

“Nobody thinks that–”

“No?” he challenged, lifting his gaze back to Larabee. “Then how come ever’ time I turn around, one of y’all is watchin’ me, ready ta stop me from doin’ somethin’?”

Chris shook his head and waved a hand. “We’re not–”

“Yeah,” he insisted softly, staring at the gunman, “y’ are. Mebbe y’all don’t always know it, but y’ are. Somewhere along the line I done sprouted six shadows. An’ it’s startin’ ta wear on me. I know y’all got other things ta do besides watch over me. An’ I’d kinda like it if y’all got back t’ doin’ ’em. I can take care of myself,” he said quietly, holding Chris’s gaze with his own. “I know I don’t always have to anymore, but there’s times I’d kinda like ta have the chance.”

Chris frowned slightly and reached out, running a long forefinger over Vin’s knee. “We just worry–”

“That I’m gonna fall or make m’self sick,” he interrupted with a grimace. “Yeah, I know, I hear it from Nathan almost ever’ day. Ever’ time he comes up with somethin’ else I ain’t s’posed ta do. But I got news fer y’all – I know what I can an’ cain’t do, an’ I ain’t in no hurry ta fall or git sick, neither. So mebbe y’all could jist,” he shrugged, “I don’t know, trust me a little more. I ain’t stupid.”

Chris lifted his head and scowled at that. “Nobody said you’re stupid–”

“Then stop treatin’ me like I cain’t be trusted not t’ kill myself,” he pleaded softly, laying a hand over Larabee’s. “Please! I know I still ain’t all that strong, but I ain’t ever gonna git any stronger if y’all don’t let me.”

Chris gazed at him for long moments, studying him, then nodded slightly. “All right,” he breathed, “we’ll try to back off some. But,” he added more firmly, “I want you to understand somethin’. Maybe we are hoverin’, but it’s only because we know how close we came to losin’ you, and it scared the hell out of us. Scares us still when we think about how weak you are. So much could still happen, Vin, and we’re just not ready to go through anything like that again.”

“I know,” he said, smiling slightly. “An’ I hope y’all never do. I cain’t stand the thought of y’all, of you, worryin’ over me like that again. I know what it did to ya …” He lifted his hand to Chris’s face, stroking lightly, remembering all the times he’d awakened in pain and fevered to see this man’s worried face above him and hear his voice begging him not to die. “I’m sorry I put y’ through that,” he whispered.

Chris reached up and captured Vin’s hand in his, then carried it to his lips and kissed his fingers tenderly. “It wasn’t your doin’,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Reckon that’s somebody else I’m pissed at. I keep tellin’ myself it don’t do no good, that he’s dead–”

“Vin, you have every right to be pissed at him for what he did,” Chris said in a low, even voice, his own familiar anger at Harper for once nowhere in evidence. “For what he did to you in the saloon, and for what he did all those years ago. Yeah, his part in it’s over, and, yeah, he’s dead. He’s paid his price. But you’re still payin’, and for somethin’ that was never yours to pay for. That bastard betrayed you again and again, and in the end he nearly killed you. I’d say you have real good reason to be pissed at him.”

“But it don’t change nothin’–”

“Who says it has to?” Chris asked sharply. “Why can’t you just be angry? God knows you’ve earned the right!” He arched a brow. “You think not bein’ angry’s gonna change anything?”

“Naw,” he sighed wearily. “I know cain’t nothin’ change any of it. I jist …” He exhaled sharply and again dragged a hand through his hair. “Hell, why do I have t’ think about him at all?” he demanded harshly, the hurt and anger again rising through him. “No matter what I do, the bastard haunts me! He’s always there! Why cain’t I jist fergit about him, about ever’thing he’s done–”

“Because it’s with you all the time,” Chris said gently. “Because every time you move, you can feel what he did. Because he left his mark on your body and on your soul.” He leaned close and cupped a hand around the back of Vin’s neck, squeezing lightly. “Because for better or worse he’s part of you,” he said softly. “Part of the boy you were back then, and part of the man you became. I don’t like it any more than you do, but there’s no denyin’ it. You won’t ever be able to forget him. All you can do is get angry, let all that out, and then somehow make your peace with it.”

He ducked his head and closed his eyes, grateful for the warmth and strength of the hand on his neck. “The nightmares are the worst,” he whispered. “I still see him, pointin’ that gun at me–”

“I know,” Chris murmured sadly. “But I’m here ta help you through ’em.”

He lifted his head and opened his eyes, staring into Larabee’s. Chris did help him through the nightmares, and through so much else besides. “I don’t really wanta git away from you, y’ know,” he breathed. “Not ever. Wouldn’t be no reason fer livin’ if I did.”

Chris smiled warmly and nodded. “I know. And it’s okay.” He winked. “Because I don’t ever plan ta let you get away.”

“Cain’t promise I’ll never git mad at ya, though.”

Chris laughed and shook his head. “Hell, pard, I wouldn’t expect you to! I oughtta tell you sometime about the tantrums Sarah could throw!”

He chuckled softly, remembering stories Buck had told about the feisty woman. “I reckon you jist bring out the best in folks,” he teased.

Chris arched a blond brow. “I ain’t the one that’s got Tiny hidin’ behind a water trough outside,” he retorted. “After your little display in here, I think he actually misses Peso!”

He scowled at that reminder. “I cain’t believe ya turned m’ horse loose!” he growled. “What the hell am I s’posed ta do if he runs away?”

Chris rose slowly to his feet, held down a hand for Vin to hold, and grinned. “Thank God and get yourself a real horse, maybe?”

Vin glared up at the man, but grabbed his hand anyway and let Larabee pull him to his feet. “I oughtta make you go git him an’ bring him back.”

“Oh, hell no,” Chris retorted, holding Vin until he was steady on his feet. “I’ve seen signs of wolves prowlin’ around.” He winked. “I’m countin’ on that mule of yours ta scare ’em back off into the hills.”

He opened his mouth to give a snide answer, but, instead, said seriously, “Reckon I owe JD an apology, huh?”

Chris sobered, too, and shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt. But, remember this.” He gently set both hands on the tracker’s shoulders and gazed steadily into his eyes. “We’re your friends. We understand. We’re not gonna stop worryin’ about ya, but we will try to do it from a distance. All you have t’ do is ask.”

He relaxed and smiled, amazed at how much easier, and how much better, everything seemed in Chris’s presence. “Reckon he’ll still wanta go fishin’?”

Chris lifted both brows. “You’ll still have to take a wagon,” he said, no give on this in his voice.

He smiled and nodded. “’S all right,” he allowed, his smile growing stronger. “’S a small price ta pay fer havin’ folks who care.”

They did go fishing the next day, just him and JD, though it damn near killed Nathan to agree to that. And Buck didn’t help at all by rattling off a long list of disasters that could befall the two with no “grown-ups” around to watch them. Chris finally shut the big man up by threatening to shoot him, and Nathan gave up and stalked off toward his clinic, likely getting it ready in case one of Buck’s disasters came to be. Josiah launched into a long philosophical discourse on the spiritual aspects of fishing, while Ezra turned up his elegant nose at his two friends’ poor choice of “recreational pursuits” and tried to tempt them into a relaxing and much more civilized game of chance.

He did not, however, hesitate to put in an order for fresh fish – already cleaned and filleted, naturally – when they turned him down.

Vin was stunned at how readily JD accepted his apology, at how sincerely he did seem to understand the reason behind the tracker’s anger. Then he remembered how the boy had suffered after Maddie Stokes had shot him, how he’d chafed under his six older friends’ over-protectiveness during his recovery, and realized that they all needed to start giving their “kid” a lot more credit.

That realization only deepened during the course of the day. Clearly JD had understood from the beginning exactly what Vin needed to get away from. He didn’t hover, never did anything more than Vin truly needed him to, never once asked him if he was all right. If he watched him, he did it without being obvious about it.

And he didn’t chatter.

Oh, he talked, and certainly he asked questions, but Vin knew it was simply in the boy’s nature to want to learn as much about the world around him as he could and answered his questions readily. But JD also seemed attuned to Vin’s need for quiet and to the natural stillness of their surroundings, seemed to appreciate the comfortable silences that fell between them as much as he did their easy conversation. He was relaxed, capable, confident.

And Vin suddenly realized that maybe they all needed to give JD more room to test his wings, as well.

They stayed out until late afternoon, by which time Vin was exhausted. And also ridiculously happy. Yesterday’s rage was gone as if it had never existed, his simmering frustration calmed. He was under no illusion that it would never return, knew better than that, but for now he was at peace, and he figured that was all he could ask.

He dozed while JD cleaned up their small camp and packed the wagon, feeling neither shame nor guilt for his weariness. This was a good exhaustion, incurred honestly during a day in which he’d done more than he had in nearly a month. And, surprising them both, he volunteered to ride in the back, where he could rest. With a rueful smile, he admitted it likely wouldn’t do either of them any good if he rode on the seat and toppled off. He’d probably only end up back in the clinic, and JD would almost certainly have his hide scoured by five very pissed-off men.

So he stretched out in the back, resigned to taking the teasing he knew would come his way for returning on his back. But again JD surprised him. Just outside town, the boy woke him, gave him time to collect himself and get his bearings, then helped him up onto the seat and drove the rest of the way in. They arrived in town laughing and making plans for their next trip out, arguing amiably over who caught the most and biggest fish and exaggerating the sizes of the ones that got away.

And poking mischievous fun at the five men trying to look so nonchalant as they formed a conspicuous knot on the porch in front of the saloon.

Still, knowing better than to tempt fate, or the protective instincts of their friends, they pulled up in front of the saloon and patiently endured the expected scrutiny.

Buck, as ever, was the first to speak. “Well,” he drawled, stepping forward and sweeping his gaze slowly over them both, “they ain’t wet, so they didn’t fall in. Don’t see no new scratches or bruises an’ their clothes ain’t torn, so I reckon they didn’t fall afoul of bandits or bears.” He stepped closer still and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t see no holes, so I guess they managed t’ keep their hooks outta each other an’ in the fish.” He stopped abruptly at that and frowned thoughtfully up at them. “Uh, you boys did manage t’ catch some fish, right?”

JD leaned around Vin to fix a smug look on the big man. “Seein’ as how we didn’t have you there scarin’ ’em off,” he retorted, “I’d say we caught a pretty fair number. Wouldn’t you, Vin?”

“I’d say so,” he answered slowly. “’Course,” he frowned slightly and scratched his chin, “likely we only got the he-fishes, since we didn’t have ol’ Bucklin’s animal magnetism t’ draw the she-fishes t’ the surface.”

Snorts and chuckles broke out amongst the group while Buck pulled a playful scowl. “I see the trip didn’t do nothin’ fer yer manners, Vin,” he scolded. “Yer still the same smart-mouthed, no-account, long-haired pain in the ass ya were when ya left!”

“Could be,” he allowed with a grin. “But,” he winked, “I’m the smart-mouthed, no-account, long-haired pain in the ass that brung yer dinner, so’s ya’d best stop yer belly-achin’ an’ help us git this wagon unpacked ’fore them fish go bad.”

“Ah, gentlemen,” Ezra stepped forward then, an anticipatory gleam in his eye, “did you perchance remember my request? Mrs. Calder at the Gem Hotel makes a delectable white wine sauce for fresh trout, and I confess I have been thinkin’ about it all day.”

“Yeah, well, y’ see, it’s like this,” Vin answered hesitantly as JD reached over into the back of the wagon for a small basket, “we tried t’ do like ya asked, bring ya cleaned an’ boneless fish. ’Cept,” he paused while JD leaned around him to hand the basket to Standish, “all the ones we caught came with scales an’ bones.” He smiled brightly. “Sorry, Ez, looks like yer in fer some menial labor.”

“But … but …” Horror crossed the gambler’s face as he took the basket from JD and stared into it, “Mrs. Calder will only cook fish to order if they are brought to her already prepared–”

“Yeah,” Vin sighed sympathetically, “it’s rough, ain’t it? The things folks won’t do fer each other.”

Ezra scowled up at him. “Did you two clean any of your catch?”

“Nope,” he answered easily. As puzzled looks broke out over his friends’ faces, he figured it was time to drive his point home just a bit as he and JD had discussed. “It’s like this.” He swept a calm gaze over four expectant faces. As if sensing what was coming, Larabee smiled slightly, knowingly, and stepped back, his faintly amused gaze never leaving Vin. “I knew y’all’d have a fit if ya thought I’d used a knife. Since my hands still ain’t always real steady, I coulda cut m’self, lost blood I ain’t got t’ lose. Right?” Four gazes slid furtively away from his as four heads nodded hesitantly, almost guiltily; clearly that possibility had been discussed. “An’ it jist didn’t seem right ta make JD clean fish we’d both caught. So,” he arched a brow and smiled faintly, “since I know y’all ain’t done nothin’ since we left but look at yer watches an’ fret, I reckon it’s time y’all got some real work done. So’s I don’t hurt m’self an’ JD don’t catch an unfair share of the work, y’all git t’ clean the fish.” He lifted his chin, almost daring them to protest. “Seems only fair since y’all are gonna be eatin’ what we worked so hard t’ catch.”

He watched their eyes widen and the wry smiles break out as his friends realized they’d been caught, too. Then he shifted his gaze to Chris and lifted a brow questioningly. He and Larabee might already have had this conversation, but he needed to make certain that the man understood just how serious about this he was. His smile widening, Chris winked and nodded, silently signalling both his appreciation of the trap so neatly set and acceptance of the terms so tacitly laid out. Vin gave an answering nod and grinned broadly in deep satisfaction as a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

A few of those “couldn’ts” had just been dropped from the list.

Mrs. Collins was delighted to add fresh fish, already cleaned and boned, to the evening menu. Ezra even added his portion to the offering, grumbling that it was likely too late to put in his order at the Gem. It was a poor ruse, though, for the pleasure he took in their company as they all sat at supper together was obvious. And it was something they all shared. Barbs flew sharp and fast across the table, jokes drew laughs and groans, tales both tall and true abounded. Each member of the seven came in for his fair share of teasing, and each man gave as good as he got.

And Vin drew it all in like the very breath of life.

Now and then – he supposed it was due to his steadily encroaching weariness – he felt strangely detached from them, as if he were watching them from just outside himself. At those moments he most clearly felt, and thought he even saw, the power that ran through them, the magic that joined them, and wondered if anyone else did as well. He tried to put some white name to it, but couldn’t. His soul recognized it only as puha, the medicine gift bestowed by the Spirits. Judge Travis might have hired them, but it was the Spirits who had put them together, he knew that. And the Spirits had shaped them into a circle, strong only when they were together, when the power could flow through them without beginning and without end. Apart, they were too weak to hold that power, too broken; it simply spilled out uselessly through the breaks. He wondered if they knew that, if they could see what ran so brightly through them. Wondered if he should tell them, if he should warn them against breaking the circle and wasting the Spirit gift …

“Vin?”

Chris’s soft voice at his left pulled him abruptly back into himself and he sat upright with a startled gasp, blinking owlishly at the gunman. “Huh?” he croaked, certain Chris was going to tell him that he’d seen it, too.

But Larabee just smiled gently and reached out to set a strong hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Only after the gunman steadied him did he realize that he’d been swaying.

“Think you should go on up ta bed,” Chris suggested softly, still smiling. “You’re about to go face-first into your plate.”

“No,” he protested hoarsely, “I wasn’t sleepin’. I’s–” What? Floating? Probably not a good thing to admit. And, now that he thought about it, he did feel a mite tired … Hell, who was he kidding? Right now his body felt so heavy he knew he wouldn’t be doing anymore floating tonight. “Reckon mebbe I could use some sleep.” Even to his own ears, his words sounded thick and slurred. “’S been a long day.”

“Yeah, it has,” Chris agreed, squeezing his shoulder again. “I’ll help you upstairs. Or,” he added, as if suddenly remembering his silent agreement from earlier, “can you make it on your own?”

Even though he’d asked for such consideration, the question was still so unexpected that he could only stare at Chris for long moments, trying to put together an answer. Which probably should’ve been an answer in itself. He knew how hard it had to have been for Chris to ask that, to bind himself to Vin’s judgment when that judgment was so clearly impaired by exhaustion. He also knew that if he said he could make it, Chris would sit here and let him try, even if the man had to hold himself physically in his chair.

And that gave him his answer. He’d told Chris he wasn’t stupid; he figured now was the time to prove it.

“Reckon I c’d use some help,” he sighed, strangely relieved by his own admission. Hadn’t he thrown a wall-eyed fit yesterday to demand his independence? “Ain’t feelin’ real steady jist now.”

Chris’s relief was obvious, poured from him in an almost visible wave. But, to his credit, he did or said nothing to trumpet his victory, merely tossed his napkin onto the table and pushed back his chair, rising fluidly to his feet. Still without a word, he closed a supporting but not commanding hand about Vin’s arm, lending him strength and steadiness as he rose rather shakily to his own feet.

Five other men stopped eating and looked up at him, but not one got to his feet or asked if he were all right. He could see the question, the concern, in their eyes, knew what it took for them not to ask or rush to his assistance, and smiled his gratitude for their restraint.

“See y’all in the mornin’,” he rasped, still smiling. “JD,” his tired gaze sought out their youngest and he nodded appreciatively, “thanks fer t’day, kid. I needed it.”

JD grinned broadly at him. “You’re welcome, Vin. Any time you wanta go again, just let me know.” He pulled a comical face, then gave an exaggerated nod toward the other men at the table and winked. “Give us a chance ta get away from the old men and have some fun.”

“Old men?” Buck spluttered in mock outrage, leaning across the table and glaring at JD. “Now, look here, you snot-nosed pup–”

“Oh, now there is a delightful image to ponder over the supper table!” Ezra moaned in elegant distaste. “Really, Mr. Wilmington, I have seen better manners exhibited in a stable–”

“A stable is a mean but honest place, Ezra,” Josiah intoned solemnly, drawing a groan from Nathan at his side. “Don’t forget that it was the chosen birthplace for our Lord–”

“Maybe we should go before the shooting starts,” Chris murmured as a spirited but nonsensical argument broke out between all quarters.

Vin only laughed softly, tiredly, and nodded, letting Chris guide him from the table. Just before he turned away, though, he caught another glimpse of the power running through them and nodded faintly.

On second thought, he didn’t have to tell them a thing. They already knew.

“Stay a few minutes,” he asked, taking Chris’s arm to stop him from rising from the bed. “Jist ’til I go t’ sleep.”

Larabee nodded and stretched out his long frame on the bed, lying on his left side and propping his head on that hand. “You worried about the nightmares?” he asked softly with a faint, anxious frown.

He smiled wearily and shook his head, gazing raptly up into the face above him. “Naw,” he breathed. “I jist ain’t ready t’ let y’ go yet. ’S been a good day. Wanta make it last a little longer.” He lifted a heavy hand and brushed shaking fingers lightly over Larabee’s chiseled features. “Cain’t ever git enough of lookin’ at you,” he sighed. “Wanta spend the rest’a my life doin’ it.”

Chris leaned down and kissed him tenderly. “Sounds good ta me,” he whispered. “I kinda like lookin’ at you, too.” He pulled away, set his head back on his hand and stroked his other slowly down Vin’s face. “But right now I’d kinda like ta watch you sleep. You look worn out.”

“Reckon I am,” he admitted. His eyes drifted closed but he forced them open again, not yet ready to sleep. “Y’ know all this was meant t’ be, don’tcha? The seven of us. You an’ me. Spirits put us all t’gether fer a reason.”

Chris smiled slightly and slid his fingers back up Vin’s face, massaging the tracker’s forehead with a slow, gentle thumb. “Remind me ta thank your Spirits sometime,” he said in a low, silky voice.

Between that voice and that thumb, Vin felt his eyes closing again and couldn’t stop them. There was so much more he wanted to say to Chris, needed to say to him, but the pull of sleep was too insistent and his need for it too strong. So he simply stopped fighting and let himself sink under the dark, warm waters.

And fell asleep to the feel of Chris’s lips pressing feather-light kisses to his closed eyes.

He was wrenched awake by a heavy-handed knocking on his door and jerked upright in bed, alarm hurling his heart into his throat, his sleep-fogged mind too sluggish to function clearly. But as he fumbled instinctively for the gunbelt draped over the bedpost, he finally recognized the familiar, and loud, voice accompanying the knocking.

“Rise an’ shine, Vin!” Buck boomed, beating on the door again. “Day’s half gone, son! Time t’ get yer scrawny ass outta bed!”

He blinked heavily and dragged a hand through his hair, willing his fast breathing and the frantic pounding of his heart to slow. He could hear other voices urging Buck to keep his down and wondered just what in the hell was going on outside his room.

Lord, no wonder Miz Collins tried to keep respectable folks off this floor!

He exhaled slowly and scrubbed his hands over his face, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor. Buck was pounding again, and he briefly wondered if he should bother getting up to open the door or just let the man batter it down.

Hell …

“C’mon, Vin, I know you’re in there!” Buck called, obviously in high spirits. And that worried him a bit. Buck in a good mood could be a dangerous thing. “Might as well open up, son,” he crowed. “We ain’t goin’ away ’til ya do!”

We? Intrigued despite himself, he rose slowly to his feet, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. This was something else he hated, this slow clearing of his head when he was accustomed to waking up all at once. Not good for a wanted man …

And certainly not good for a man with Buck Wilmington just waiting to spring something on him.

“Hold on a minute,” he called hoarsely, grabbing his trousers off the end of the bed where Chris had put them last night. He pulled them on carefully – by now hearing Nathan’s warning against falling even when the healer was nowhere around – and tugged his wide leather suspenders up over his undershirt, then moved to the door. Unlocking it, he opened it a bit, glared through it at the grinning Wilmington and demanded, “Jist what the hell are you up to?”

“Well, good mornin’ ta you, too, sunshine!” Buck greeted brightly, pushing open the door and striding through it. “And here I always thought Ezra was the grouchy one in the mornin’.” He suddenly seemed to see Vin then, dressed only in britches and undershirt, and whistled softly. “Damn, boy,” he said with a wince and a shake of his head, “when are you gonna get some meat on them bones? Come a strong wind an’ you’ll blow clean away!”

He just continued to stare blearily at the big man. “I ain’t had my coffee yet, Bucklin,” he warned in a low, gravelly voice. “Might wanta keep that in mind.”

“Don’t worry, we got somethin’ better than coffee for ya,” Buck said distractedly, looking around the small room as if trying to decide something. “Gonna be a tight fit, but I reckon it’ll work. All right, boys,” he turned to holler through the door, “bring it in!”

His irritation gave way to complete confusion at the man’s shout. “Buck, jist what in the hell–”

“Might wanta move back some, Vin,” Buck suggested, turning back to the tracker. He set big hands on Tanner’s shoulders and propelled him carefully around to the foot of the bed. “Wouldn’t want ya ta get stepped on here. You get so much as a bruise outta this an’ Nathan’ll use us for knife practice.”

He batted away the man’s hands impatiently and opened his mouth to demand an explanation. But muttered curses and some heavy “thumps” out in the hallway snagged his attention and he found himself leaning around Buck to stare past him at the open door in a mixture of anticipation and dread.

“Buck, what– Holy hell!” he gasped sharply as the reason for Buck’s visit – and high spirits – was revealed. Chris backed in first, moving awkwardly and grunting as he struggled to hold up his end of … “A bathtub?” he breathed in stunned disbelief.

Buck, still standing beside him, clapped a big hand to his shoulder and beamed down at him, grinning from ear to ear. “We figured you were gettin’ tired of washin’ out of a basin,” he explained warmly. “Took us a while ta wear down Nathan, but, hell, he ain’t happy ’less he’s got somethin’ ta fret over anyway.”

He just continued to stare in amazement as Chris and Josiah manipulated the tub carefully through the doorway, then set it down with another loud “thump” on the floor between the bed and the window. Both men straightened slowly, each stretching his back, then turned to fix expectant gazes on Vin.

He shook his head slowly, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, overcome by delight at having been granted so simple but so dearly missed a thing. He took a small step forward, then stopped and lifted his eyes to Buck, searching the man’s face intently before shifting his gaze to Chris and Josiah. “Y’all done this … fer me?” he asked softly.

Chris smiled at him and nodded. “Figured it was time we let out the reins some,” he explained. “And this is a compromise.” He shrugged. “Nathan thought the bathhouse was too drafty, didn’t like the idea of you bein’ out in the air with a wet head. Scared you’ll take a chill. So we sorta … persuaded him,” he shot Josiah a glare when the man coughed loudly, “that this would work.”

He shook his head slowly, still not quite believing it. “How’d y’all do this?”

“Easy,” Buck answered. “Ol’ Pete at the bathhouse loaned us a tub, said you was welcome to it. We got a wagon from Tiny, loaded the tub an’ buckets on it, drove it around t’ the back door here, then just carried this beauty up the stairs.”

“You mean we carried it while you stood here and damn near beat down the door,” Josiah corrected heavily.

Buck gave him a wounded look. “Well, hell, preacherman, somebody’s gotta supervise!”

“Then why don’t you go back down and start ‘supervisin’’ some of those water buckets on up here,” Chris suggested pointedly.

Buck sighed sharply and threw up his hands. “All right, all right.” He shook his head and stalked away from Vin and past the tub. “Ain’t ever seen such a bunch of growlin’ grizzlies in my life,” he muttered as he left the room. “Hell, don’t anybody take any pleasure in a fine mornin’ anymore?”

Vin moved closer to the tub, deeply touched by his friends’ effort to bring it up to him. “Cain’t thank y’all enough,” he breathed, smiling at Chris and Josiah. “Y’ didn’t have t’ do this–”

“But we wanted to,” Josiah assured him quietly. “We haven’t always understood how hard all this has been on you.” He shrugged and smiled. “This is our way of saying we’ll try to do better.”

“It’s a helluva start!” he chuckled.

“Yeah, well, before you get carried away,” Chris put in, “there is a condition.”

Vin’s smile faded at that and he stared at Chris, bracing himself. “Oh?”

Chris glanced at Josiah, who only shrugged, then turned back to Vin. “Nathan’s still worried about you slippin’ and fallin’.” He arched a brow. “I had ta promise him I’d stay in here with you.”

He went very still and carefully schooled his expression to let nothing show. “You’re … gonna stay in here … an’ watch me take a bath?” he asked softly, slowly.

Chris’s face was just as impassive, though the tiniest of flames danced in his green eyes. “I could sit out in the hallway,” he said neutrally, “but I’d have to leave the door open.”

“Ain’t like you’ve never been in the bathhouse with one or more of us before, Vin,” Josiah added matter-of-factly. “Shouldn’t be any different now.”

Vin turned a searching look upon him. Chris had told him that Josiah knew about their feelings for each other, had known even before Chris admitted it. Yet, as with himself and Chris, whatever the man truly thought about all this was kept carefully out of his face and voice.

At least they had allies in the deception they’d be forced to live.

He nodded slowly, as if thinking it over, though his decision was already made. Hadn’t really taken any deciding at all. “Reckon we all gotta bend some here an’ there,” he allowed carefully. “An’ I ain’t in no position ta be picky.” He smiled slightly at Chris. “Reckon it won’t kill me if ya stay.”

The gunman gave only a small smile in return, though the light in his eyes grew stronger. “Reckon it won’t at that.”

“How’s about a little help here?” bellowed a voice from the hallway. “I could do it all myself, but this water’ll be cold by the time I do.” He entered the room carrying two full buckets with astonishing ease. “An’ Lord knows we wouldn’t want Vin ta shrivel up any more than he already has,” he added with a wink.

He glared at Wilmington, but couldn’t stop the glare from melting into a smile as he watched the man empty the buckets of steaming water into the tub. Josiah and Chris each nodded at him, then turned and left the room. Buck followed them back out, and Vin gave a slow, deep sigh.

Lord, Lord, what had he ever done to deserve friends like these?

“Damn!” he groaned in sheer bliss as he slid down as far into the tub as he could. The water was wonderfully hot, just at the edge of being tolerable, and he thought he’d never felt anything better in his life. “I owe you boys big fer this!”

Chris laughed. “I’ll remember that!” He’d brought up some coffee from the kitchen and now cradled a cup in his hands as he sat in the chair before the window, looking every bit as relaxed as Vin felt.

And, Lord, did he feel relaxed! He rested his head against the back edge and closed his eyes, simply enjoying the heat of the water as it slowly relieved tension, stiffness and aches he hadn’t even known he’d had. He’d all but forgotten just how good a hot soak could feel, knew he’d have to thank Nathan for finally allowing him this.

Strange how much such a little thing could matter …

“Not thinkin’ of goin’ ta sleep in there, are ya?” Chris asked lightly.

“Might,” he sighed contentedly, never opening his eyes. “Might jist stay in here forever.”

“Y’ don’t think you’d get a little cold after a while?”

He cracked open one eye and turned his head to scowl at Larabee. “Ain’t much fer enjoyin’ the moment, are ya, cowboy?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Chris breathed, a slow grin forming as he allowed his gaze to travel slowly over the tracker’s naked, submerged body. “I’m enjoyin’ this moment an awful lot.”

That low, soft voice sent a shiver through Vin that had nothing to do with a chill. He swallowed hard and opened both eyes wide to meet Chris’s gleaming gaze. “Anybody ever tell ya it ain’t polite t’ stare?” he rasped.

Chris’s grin widened into a playful leer. “Well, I did promise Nathan I’d keep an eye on ya.”

“Oh.” He sat up slowly and set an elbow on the edge of the tub, cupping his chin in his hand and frowning slightly at the gunman. “That all yer gonna keep on me?”

Larabee’s eyes widened and darkened, then he set his coffee cup on the small table and slid easily out of the chair to kneel beside the tub. Reaching out, he brushed a damp, curling tendril of hair back from Vin’s face with a gentle forefinger, then traced that finger lightly over the tracker’s brows and down his nose. “You got another idea?” he asked softly.

He exhaled unsteadily as that feather-light finger skimmed over his face, as Larabee seduced him with no more than a touch. “Always got ideas when yer around,” he rasped, closing his eyes as that finger traced the outline of his mouth. “You jist natur’ly inspire me.”

“Oh, well,” Chris breathed, leaning closer and canting his head slightly, “I’ve always believed in … inspiration.” He slid his hand around to the back of Vin’s head and pressed his lips to the tracker’s in a slow, deep kiss.

He moaned and shivered as that warm, wet mouth claimed his, as Larabee’s kiss seared twin paths to his heart and his groin. The familiar heat pooled in his belly, the familiar hunger kindled in his soul, love and lust combining to create the need that this man alone could fulfill.

He leaned forward and started to twine his arms around Chris’s neck, but stopped himself at the last minute and pulled reluctantly out of the kiss. “Might wanta shuck some a’ them clothes,” he suggested hoarsely, breathing heavily. “Be kinda hard t’ explain how they got wet.”

Chris chuckled softly and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Could say you started to fall and I had t’ catch you–”

“An’ have Nathan put me back t’ bathin’ outta that damn basin again?” he protested sharply. “I don’t think so!”

“Not even with me bathin’ you?” Chris asked as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it over onto the bed, well out of the way of any water.

Vin grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Tub’s more fun, cowboy,” he pointed out. “More room fer two.”

Chris had started to peel off his undershirt, but stopped midway through the effort to gaze at Vin, two blond brows lifting in anticipation. “You got somethin’ in mind?”

“We-ell,” he drawled softly, tipping his head slightly to one side and frowning thoughtfully, “I got this spot on m’ back, always been hard fer me t’ reach.” He fixed a wide and innocent gaze on Larabee. “Was thinkin’ I might need some help scrubbin’ it. Y’know,” he shrugged lightly, then reached out to brush a long forefinger over one of Chris’s hands, “ain’t no sense bathin’ unless yer gonna make a thorough job of it.”

Chris tensed and sucked in a sharp breath, then tore off his undershirt in a single, impatient motion. It, too, went sailing onto the bed, then he rose abruptly to his feet and began working hurriedly at the buttons of his pants. “Always have admired your thoroughness,” he rasped, shoving trousers and underpants down around the tops of his boots, then toeing off the boots and stepping carefully out of the wadded mess.

“Jist see that you don’t fall!” Vin warned with a laugh. “I don’t wanta have t’ explain ta Nathan why you was naked when you cracked yer head open on the tub.”

“Nice ta know you’re so worried about my well-being!” Chris scolded playfully, kicking aside the tangled boots and clothing, then peeling off his socks. He finally straightened to his full height and set his hands on his hips, scowling down at the tracker. “You ever think about anybody but yourself?”

Vin didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. At the moment, though, he wasn’t thinking about himself at all, wasn’t thinking about anything except the man standing naked before him. Couldn’t breathe for the stunning beauty of the sight. Sunlight from the window haloed around Larabee’s head and turned his blond hair to burnished gold, and more golden hair gleamed brightly against the ivory of his smooth flesh. Green eyes alight with love and dark with desire glittered down at him, and a faint, knowing smile curved about the full, firm lips. He licked his own lips and let his eyes travel slowly over the broad shoulders and down the powerful chest to the taut, flat belly, then swallowed hard and let his gaze come to rest on the thick cock that rose hungrily from its nest of dark gold curls. A soft, unsteady gasp escaped him and he shuddered hard as a sudden wave of heat swept through him.

Lord, the man was a fever in his blood!

“Vin?” Chris sank easily into a crouch once more and snagged the tracker’s unblinking gaze with his own, frowning slightly. “Vin?” he called again softly, a note of worry creeping into his voice. “You with me here, pard?”

He blinked and nodded slowly, dazedly, then shook his head to clear it. “Yeah,” he rasped breathlessly, “I jist …” He smiled slightly and reached out, brushing unsteady fingers over the man’s face. “Yer the finest thing I ever seen, cowboy,” he said softly. “Jist ain’t sure I’m ever gonna get used t’ the fact that yer mine.”

Chris took Vin’s hand in his own and pressed it to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. “Better get used to it,” he breathed. “’Cause you’re stuck with me from now on.”

He freed his hand from Chris’s grasp and slid it around to the back of his golden head, pulling the man to him. “Reckon I can live with that,” he whispered, claiming Larabee’s lips in a hungry kiss.

They clung together for long moments, mouths tasting, teasing, exploring, tongues meeting and twining in a slow, erotic dance. Vin turned and rose to his knees in the tub to pull Chris more closely to him, insatiably hungry for the feel of the man against him. Long arms wound about him and he twined his about Chris, pressing his fingers into the man’s back and delighting in the play of hard muscles beneath supple flesh.

Then Chris pulled away, smiling slightly and cupping a strong hand tenderly to his face. “Think we’d best get you bathed before the water loses its heat,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough with feeling. “Last thing we need is for you ta catch a chill.”

“You could always warm me up,” he suggested hoarsely, not yet ready to let go of this man. Never ready for that.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chris said on a low chuckle, green eyes dark and deep in his flushed face as he stroked Tanner’s throat with a thumb, “I plan on doin’ a lot of that. But as long and as loud as you’ve hollered for this bath,” he winked, “I’d surely hate for it ta go ta waste.”

“If y’all wasn’t such a hard-headed bunch, I wouldn’ta had t’ holler,” he insisted with a playful pout. “’Sides,” he tipped his head to one side and dragged a finger slowly down Larabee’s chest, “seems ta me that yer gettin’ as much enjoyment from this bath as I am.” He slanted a sly grin at the man. “Reckon I won’t have t’ holler near as loud nor as long next time.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Tanner,” Chris breathed.

“Yeah, I know.” He pulled away from Chris with an effort and lowered himself back down into the warm water, then turned his back to Larabee and slid down to the end of the tub. Drawing up his knees against his chest, he folded his arms atop them and turned his head to stare expectantly over his shoulder up at the gunman. “An’ right now I’m a dangerous man who needs his back scrubbed,” he purred. “You know anybody who might be interested in helpin’?”

“You better hope t’ God that door’s locked,” Chris growled as he stepped into the tub. “I don’t think this was what Nathan had in mind when he told me to keep an eye on you!” He loosed a soft hiss as he sat down behind Vin. “Think this water’s hot enough, pard?”

“Cain’t help it,” he said with a shrug. “I like a hot bath.” He turned slightly and tossed a wink at Chris over his shoulder. “But if ya like somethin’ cooler, someday I’ll introduce you t’ the pleasure of a good, hot sweat lodge followed by a quick dip in a cold stream.”

Chris stared at him in something close to horror. “Damn, Tanner,” he breathed, “there’s just somethin’ wrong with you!”

Vin snorted sharply and turned away, shaking his head in mock disgust. “’S a damn shame when a man like you starts goin’ soft,” he lamented.

“Soft, am I?” he breathed, leaning forward just as Tanner scooted back into him. “Guess we’ll have ta see about that.” He reached up and pushed aside the wet mass of Vin’s hair, then bowed his head and pressed his mouth to the back of the man’s neck.

Vin gasped sharply and shivered as Larabee showered a series of slow, tender kisses up and down his neck, as lips, teeth and tongue lit countless fires in his flesh and set his every nerve to throbbing. While that mouth licked, kissed and nibbled at the nape of his neck, Chris’s hands slid around to his chest, seeking and finding his nipples. Lightning seared through him as callused thumbs scraped across the over-sensitized buds, bringing them at once to pebble hardness and wringing another sharp breath from him.

“Lord, Chris!” he gasped, his blood throbbing hot and heavy through his veins.

“Ssh,” he whispered against the base of the tracker’s neck, “I’m concentratin’ here.”

“Yeah, well,” he rasped thickly, “mebbe you ought t’ start concentratin’ on that bar of soap.” He swallowed hard and pushed Larabee’s hands away from him with an effort. “Much more a’ this, an’ we’re gonna need some clean water.”

“What’s the matter, Tanner?” Chris teased, setting his chin on the tracker’s shoulder and skimming one hand lightly along a submerged thigh. “You about ta fire prematurely there?”

He scowled and grabbed the gunman’s wrist, stilling its movements. “Hell, y’ say I’m dangerous!” he growled. “If yer so all-fired set on rubbin’ on me,” he lifted Chris’s hand from the water and shoved a bar of soap into it, “why’n’tcha try usin’ this?”

Chris sighed heavily and closed his fingers around the soap, then lifted his chin from Tanner’s shoulder. “Thought you wanted me t’ start enjoyin’ the moment,” he groused. Nonetheless, he fished the wash cloth out of the water with his other hand and began soaping it up. “I could just let you do this yourself.”

He turned his head and lifted one brow at the gunman. “See what I mean?” he sighed. “Uppity.”

“But you love me for it,” Larabee cracked with a wink and a grin.

“Uppity and smug,” he sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Lord, what was I thinkin’?”

Larabee’s grin widened and his blond brows danced. “Maybe you were thinkin’ you had some hard ta reach places that needed scrubbin’?” he suggested.

And Vin couldn’t help grinning in return, delighted, as always, by this playful, teasing side of Chris that was so rarely allowed to surface. He loved seeing this side of the man, loved hearing his low, easy laugh and watching his face soften and relax, the lines scored into it by life and loss fading as if they’d never been. He knew it was a mark of the ease Chris felt with him, of the love he felt for him, that he so freely let this side of himself show in his presence, and he was determined to protect this precious and treasured gift with everything that was in him.

Would protect Chris with everything that was in him.

“You offerin’?” he finally asked.

Chris gave a lazy shrug, broad shoulders rolling loosely. “I got a few minutes of free time,” he allowed, still grinning. “And I did tell Nathan I’d make sure you didn’t strain anything.”

“Well,” he breathed, “I sure wouldn’t wanta make a liar of ya t’ Nathan.”

Larabee snorted softly, then leaned forward and pressed the cloth to Tanner’s back, rubbing slow, soapy circles against the tracker’s flesh. “Hell, you’re as easily had as Buck,” he chided. “Lean forward.”

Vin did as instructed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall forward, exhaling deeply in undisguised pleasure as Larabee bathed him. Over his shoulders and down his back the man dragged the soapy cloth, long fingers digging into his muscles and massaging under the pretense of washing. While one hand scrubbed his back, the other pushed his long hair aside and again the gunman’s mouth found its way to the nape of his neck, wringing another deep sigh from him.

And the man wondered why he’d been so desperate for a bath …

Chris slid the cloth slowly up and down Vin’s arms and under them, nibbling at each of the tracker’s earlobes as he did. Then, pulling Vin back against him, he began bathing the tracker’s chest, stroking the cloth in circles over his pectorals and dragging it against his nipples.

“Oh, Lord!” he gasped, arching against that slowly torturing hand as sparks jumped along his every nerve. He thrust his head back into Larabee’s shoulder and drove long fingers into the hard thighs bracketing him, panting in time to the movements of Larabee’s hand across his chest. “You sure you promised Nate you wasn’t gonna let me strain nothin’?”

“Now that I think about it,” Chris breathed in a low, husky voice against his ear, “I seem t’ recall that I just promised him I’d take care of ya.”

Vin licked his lips and shivered as Larabee’s hand drifted down his belly toward his hardening cock. “I do like the way you keep a promise!” he rasped breathlessly.

“Man’s word is his bond,” Chris murmured, turning and bowing his head to nuzzle hungrily at Tanner’s jaw even as his hand, now without the wash cloth, closed about the tracker’s cock.

“Jesus!” Vin hissed sharply. Larabee’s long fingers grasped his thick shaft and stroked slowly from base to tip, squeezing and pulling and drawing a sobbing moan from him. Another hiss escaped him as the man’s other hand strayed back to a nipple and played there, pinching and rolling it between thumb and forefinger. “Lord, cowboy!” he gasped, thrusting helplessly into the hand working his cock. “You tryin’ t’ kill me?”

“Like you said,” Larabee answered roughly, his own erection pressing into the tracker’s ass, “it’s a helluva way t’ go!”

Vin felt that insistent hardness against him and wanted still more of it. Closing his eyes, he lifted his hands from Larabee’s thighs to the sides of the tub and gripped them tightly, then lifted himself up and folded his legs beneath him, getting to his knees and sliding further back into the gunman’s crotch. Chris’s thick, rigid cock slipped between his ass cheeks and he shuddered at the heat and promise of it. Each time he thrust into Chris’s hand he slid along that long, hard pole, driving them both ever closer to the precipice. Stripped of reason and control, reduced to mere sensation and instinct, he panted harshly, heavily and clung to the sides of the tub, clenching his muscles around Chris’s cock and thrusting helplessly into the man’s hand.

Heat seared through him in molten waves, threatening to consume his very soul. Chris shifted slightly behind him and he dropped his head back against the gunman’s shoulder with a low, guttural sound of sheer pleasure. One hand continued to fondle each of his nipples in turn while the one at his cock steadily intensified its actions, working him with a ruthless mastery, and still the man’s hard, hot shaft sawed against his balls. Chris was thrusting against him, thrusting with him, and all at once they found their rhythm, bodies working in perfect unison.

They came that same way, exploding into orgasm within heartbeats of each other. With twin cries they shot their seed, finding release, relief and completion together.

“Oh, Lord!” he gasped, sinking bonelessly into Larabee, all strength gone from him. But Chris’s arms wound about him and held him securely, the man’s powerful body cradled his easily, and he knew he was safer here, now, like this, than he’d ever been before.

At his absolute weakest, he was safer with this man than he could ever be at his strongest without him.

“Ssh, it’s all right,” Chris murmured hoarsely against his temple, “I gotcha.” He tightened trembling arms about Vin. “I gotcha, and I ain’t ever gonna letcha go.”

Those words again. Lord, how had he ever lived so long without hearing those words, without feeling their power, their promise, inside him?

“Wish I could tell ya what it means when I hear y’ say that,” he rasped breathlessly, his trembling only now beginning to subside. He wrapped his arms over Chris’s and covered the man’s hands with his own. “I’d hear ’em in the clinic when I’s hurtin’ so bad I thought I could die from the pain alone. An’ sometimes, I swear,” he laced his fingers through Larabee’s and squeezed tightly, “sometimes them words was all that kep’ me hangin’ on. I knew you was holdin’ me, even through the pain I could feel it, an’ I jist couldn’t bear the thought of dyin’. Not if it meant you’d have t’ let me go.”

“I’m never gonna let you go, Vin,” Chris said again, the low ferocity of his voice turning the words into a vow. “Not as long as there’s a breath left in me. I need you too much, need what you give me too much. I know what it’s like not ta have this in my life.” He sighed and laid his cheek against Vin’s hair. “And I don’t ever intend ta go back ta that again.”

He smiled softly and closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of peace and strength this man gave him. “Then I reckon we’re stuck with each other,” he breathed, “’cause I sure as hell don’t ever wanta go back, either.” A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Done got too used t’ havin’ you around. Got t’ where I kinda like it.”

Chris laughed quietly and kissed the top of his head. “That makes two of us then,” he chuckled. “And bathtime’s sure as hell a lot more fun!”

“Told ya so,” he gloated.

“Now who’s smug?” Chris raised a hand to his hair and tugged gently. “How ’bout we get this rat’s nest washed before you take a chill?”

Vin opened his eyes and turned his head to scowl at the man. “Anybody ever told ya yer manners need work, Larabee?”

Chris gave a toothy grin. “Seems I’ve heard it a few times before.” He winked. “And usually from somebody whose manners are worse than mine. Now, sit up so we can get this done while there’s some heat left in the water.”

“Awful damn bossy, ain’tcha?” he growled. Nonetheless, he sat up. “Hell, I reckon some folks jist cain’t resist barkin’ orders.”

Untangling himself from Tanner, Chris got to his knees and leaned out of the tub, reaching for one of the buckets of water nearby. “Yeah, and I guess some folks just can’t resist mouthin’ off,” he retorted. He lifted the bucket and swung it over the tub. “Close your eyes and tip your head back. Please,” he added as Vin opened his mouth to argue.

Vin permitted himself a satisfied smile, then did as ordered. A stream of warm water sluiced over his head, shoulders and chest, wetting his hair and rinsing the soap from his body. Then the flow stopped, and Chris’s quiet voice directed, “Keep your eyes closed.” He heard Larabee set the bucket back on the floor, then felt the man move closer to him, still on his knees. Moments later, long fingers sank into his hair, scrubbing and pulling gently as they worked the soap through it. He groaned deep in his throat and let his head fall back into those hands as they sent rivulets of pure pleasure through him.

“Lord,” he sighed in ecstasy. “Think y’ done found yerself a permanent job here, cowboy!”

Larabee chuckled softly, the low, warm sound only adding to Vin’s delight. “Shameless, ain’tcha?”

He sighed again in perfect happiness. “I ever claim t’ be otherwise?”

Chris leaned forward and gently kissed his ear. “Nope, I don’t guess you have.” He worked a few moments longer, dragging his fingers through Vin’s hair and against his scalp, eliciting shivers and moans from the tracker. Then, at last, he pulled his hands free. “Time ta rinse.”

“Damn,” Vin breathed in disappointment.

“See?” Chris reached for another bucket. “Shameless.” And he carefully poured the water over Tanner’s head and through his hair. “But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll do this again.”

“Lord, I hope so!” he said fervently, lifting his hands to squeeze the soap from his hair. “I think you done found yer callin’!”

When all the soap was gone, Chris set the bucket on the floor, then rose to his feet and stepped out of the tub. Reaching across to the foot of the bed, he snagged one of the towels laid there, snapped it open and wrapped it quickly around his waist, then retrieved another for Vin.

“All right,” he said, turning around and extending a hand down to the tracker, “time ta get out. And,” a note of sternness crept into his voice, “you take my hand and let me help you. And be careful. We managed t’ spill a helluva lotta water here and I don’t want you slippin’ in it.”

Vin knew that tone, knew better than to argue, and dutifully clasped his hand around Chris’s. As much as he’d chafed under the others’ concern, he understood the reasons for it, knew how serious the danger of falling was. So he held on to Chris, rose slowly to his feet and stepped carefully out of the tub onto the wet floor, smiling triumphantly when the man wrapped the towel around him.

“See? Still in one piece,” he joked.

But there was no joking, no teasing, in the green eyes staring so steadily, so seriously, back at him. “I know you think I make too much of all this,” Chris said quietly, slipping his arms around Vin’s waist and pulling him close. “But I can’t help it. I don’t ever wanta take the chance of losin’ you again. And if that means I get a little over-protective sometimes, well, that’s just the way it is.” He finally managed a slight smile. “I’ve gotten used t’ you mouthin’ off, and I wanta make sure you’re around ta keep doin’ it for a good long while,” he said softly. “So you’re just gonna have t’ get used ta me takin’ care of you, all right?”

“Reckon I c’n do that,” he breathed, twining his arms around Chris’s neck and gazing into his eyes, amazed even now by the depth of the love shining in them. “Hell,” he smiled slightly, softly, and tipped his mouth toward Larabee’s, “I think mebbe it’s time we got used t’ takin’ care of each other.”

I think mebbe it’s time we got used t’ takin’ care of each other.

His words from that morning almost a month ago came back to him now, bringing the same smile to his lips and warmth to his heart that they had then. They didn’t sound like much on the surface, he knew that, but to two men who’d never again thought to have such in their lives, they were everything. A promise; a pledge. A prayer breathed by two souls only now remembering how to hope.

And there just weren’t words profound enough for that.

He settled back against his saddle and sipped from the coffee gone cold in his cup, listening as Chris moved around the perimeter of their little camp to make one last check of their surroundings before they settled in for the night. There had been a time, and not so very long ago either, when he would’ve insisted on making that check, would’ve done it no matter who else or how many others had, unable to trust his safety, his life, to anyone but himself. But that was different now, had been changed like so much else by Alvin Harper’s bullet. What had begun as a brutal act of betrayal had instead turned into one lesson in trust after another, and with so much more than just his life.

I want you ta know that if I have anything ta do with it, none of that will ever happen ta you and Chris.

He remembered Buck’s words from that morning out on the porch, remembered even more clearly the understanding and acceptance he’d heard in the man’s voice and seen in his eyes. And seen in the others’ eyes as well. They all knew, he had no doubt about that; even JD, who saw and understood more than the rest of them liked to think. They knew about Alvin, knew why the bastard had come for him, what he’d wanted from him. More than that, they had to know about him and Chris. Too many lines had been crossed in the past two months, too many barriers shattered, for such a sharp bunch to have missed what had to be obvious. And while only Buck had said anything about it to him, he knew with a certainty that still amazed him that his and Chris’s “secret” was as safe in their keeping as his life had been.

Strange the lessons a single bullet could teach.

He set his cup aside and sat up slowly, folding his legs Indian-style and tilting his head slightly to one side as he gazed thoughtfully into the fire. The boys knew everything, he was certain of it. And for a while he’d feared the consequences of that knowledge. He’d braced himself for their reaction, for their rejection, had told himself that things could never be the same between the seven of them. Knowing about him and Alvin should’ve made it easy for the boys to turn their backs on him; they sure as hell wouldn’t have been the first. And knowing about him and Chris surely should’ve made it easy!

But, hell, so much for easy …

He chuckled softly, wryly, and shook his head slowly. Hell, weren’t any of ’em just real good at “easy.” They were all a bunch of hard-headed fools who seemed to take pleasure in looking for the rockiest road to hell they could find. Likely it was gonna get ’em all killed one day.

But, Lord, he couldn’t think of a finer way to go, or a finer bunch to go with.

He shook his head again, a ridiculously happy grin stretching across his face. He definitely needed to wander by the cemetery one day and thank Alvin for what he’d done. Make the sonuvabitch turn over in his grave.

“You’re lookin’ awful pleased with yourself,” Chris said as he returned to the fire and saw the broad, boyish smile gracing Tanner’s face. The grin, so rare in its complete unguardedness, sent a flush of warmth through him, but the wicked gleam in the tracker’s fire-lit blue eyes tempered that warmth with a vague wariness. “Tell me you’re not up to somethin’.”

Vin lifted his head and fixed a wide, innocent gaze on the man standing just across the fire from him. “What makes ya think I’m up t’ anything?”

Larabee snorted sharply and arched a brow. “You’re awake, ain’tcha?”

The smile twisted into a scowl and Vin loosed a sound of disgust. “Yer a suspicious sonuvabitch, y’ know that?”

Chris stepped around the fire to the blankets spread next to Vin’s and sank down upon them, stretching out on his side and propping his head on one hand, staring steadily at the tracker. “It’s the company I keep,” he answered dryly.

Vin sighed mournfully and reached out to drag a callused forefinger slowly down Larabee’s face. “Thought y’ liked my comp’ny,” he said in his low, throaty rasp.

Chris exhaled unsteadily and shivered as the tracker’s husky voice and teasing finger ignited a familiar heat in his blood. Oh yeah, he’d been right about that gleam …

A slow, predatory smile curved about Vin’s mouth as he heard Chris’s gasp and saw the man’s long body tense. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, sliding his hand around to the back of Larabee’s neck and leaning toward him. “Ain’t ya got nothin’ t’ say?”

Chris opened his mouth, but any words he might have spoken were silenced by the press of Vin’s lips against his. Surrendering to the lure of that kiss, he groaned and wound his arms about the tracker’s body, pulling Tanner to him and burying his mouth in the younger man’s.

Vin went easily, eagerly, into Chris’s arms, bearing Larabee back against his blankets and sliding atop him, thrilling to the feel of those strong arms about him and the press of that hard body against him. Chris’s tongue played at his lips and he drew it into his mouth, sucking hungrily at it. Lord, he’d never tire of the taste of this man!

Mouths and bodies melded into a heated whole, hands raked, caressed and kneaded, flesh ached and blood throbbed with the intensity of rising passion. Soft growls and muted whispers joined the popping of the fire as lust fueled by love again overtook the two.

They undressed each other slowly, taking time to explore and savor every bit of flesh revealed to seeking mouths and hands, separating reluctantly when sheer practicality demanded it but immediately returning to each other. Mouths met in deep, demanding kisses, hands locked and fingers laced through each other, and naked bodies slick with sweat and bathed in dancing firelight twined and writhed in a slow, sensual rhythm. Hips arched and rocked, hard and hurting cocks thrust and parried with a mounting urgency. But they held themselves in check as long as they could, wanting to extend this time and this feeling for as long as possible, each wholly lost in the other and never wanting to be found.

But not even their formidable wills could indefinitely hold back the tide now rolling so forcibly through them. Swept and overcome by Vin’s scent, taste and feel, Chris tore his mouth from the tracker’s with a wordless snarl and seized upon the younger man’s shoulder, driving his teeth sharply into sweaty, supple flesh. Vin tensed and howled and thrust once more against Chris, his seed jetting between their bodies. Chris erupted heartbeats later with that same ferocity, arching his hips frantically as thick ropes of cum coated his and Vin’s bellies.

They collapsed against each other with heavy, shuddering gasps, neither able to move, neither wanting to. Their trembling fingers were still laced together, Vin’s face was nestled into Chris’s warm throat and Chris’s legs were wound about his. Drained, sated, completed, they simply lay together, each deeply conscious of the feel of the other against him. Of the feel of the other within him.

When he could move again, Chris freed one hand from Vin’s, then lifted it and buried it in the tracker’s hair, combing his fingers through the long, tangled strands. Tanner’s breath was warm and soft against his throat, the man’s body a solid weight atop him, and he marveled again at the meaning and rightness such small sensations gave to his world.

“So,” Vin rasped softly, sleepily, “reckon this means y’ like my comp’ny after all.”

Chris chuckled and tipped his head to rest against Vin’s. “Reckon so,” he answered, mimicking the Texan’s drawl.

Vin lifted his head and scowled down at Larabee. “Still an uppity sonuvabitch, ain’tcha?” he groused. “Reckon there’s jist no help fer some folks.”

Chris arched a brow and grinned. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stop bein’ uppity when you stop bein’ mouthy.”

Vin matched that grin with one of his own. “An’ here I thought y’ liked my mouth.”

Chris laughed again and pulled Vin back down against him, wrapping his arms tightly about the tracker’s body. “You got me there,” he admitted on a low, throaty chuckle.

Vin sighed happily at that sound, at the warmth it sent through him. “Oughtta laugh more often, cowboy,” he breathed. “’S a real nice sound.”

“Think I’ll be doin’ more of it,” Chris said, slowly stroking Tanner’s naked back. “Got more reason to laugh with you around.”

Vin thought about that for a moment, then snorted softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shivered and burrowed further still into Larabee’s embrace as the night chill crept through him.

Chris felt that shiver and frowned worriedly. “Think we should get you dressed, partner. Don’t want you takin’ a chill.”

“Rather stay where I’m at,” Vin murmured, closing his eyes. “Kinda like it here.”

“Yeah, I know.” Chris turned his head and planted a kiss into the shaggy mop of hair. “But I did promise Nathan I’d take care of you.”

Vin grinned sleepily. “Doin’ a real good job so far.”

Chris heaved a martyred sigh. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are ya?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I did, now would I?”

Chris exhaled sharply and scowled. “Anybody ever tell you what an irritatin’ sonuvabitch you can be?”

“You’d be th’ expert there,” Vin retorted, then shivered again.

“All right, that’s it,” Chris growled. “Get up. We need ta get you cleaned up and dressed before you take sick. And,” he added sharply before Vin could argue, “wouldn’t Nathan just love it if that happened? How long d’you think it’d be before he let you go out again?”

Vin wanted to argue, but knew he couldn’t. With an exasperated huff, he slid off Larabee and sat up, folding his long legs and scowling down at the gunman. “I ever tell ya how much I hate it when you’re right?”

“Then you must be miserable all the time,” Chris answered with a smirk as he pulled himself upright.

Vin’s scowl deepened and he shook his head. “Hell, y’ call me irritatin’!” he said in disgust.

“Like you said,” Chris winked, “I’m the expert.” He swooped forward and gave Vin a short, hard kiss, then drew back, winked again and turned away, reaching for his nearby saddlebags.

Vin could only stare rather dazedly after him, his scowl giving way to a slow, crooked, almost drunken grin. Irritatin’ as hell …

And the finest thing he’d ever known.

He sat cross-legged on a large boulder in the middle of a rocky outcropping overlooking the stream, huddled inside his coat against the early morning chill and watching the sun rise. A small, contented smile graced his face and light filled his eyes as he gazed up at the streaks of pale rose painting the sky. This day was coming to him untouched by anyone else, unused and unmuddied, his to make into whatever he would. He felt the peace of it settling deep into his soul, filling him with a stillness to match that of the world around him.

Lord, he’d missed this.

He still hadn’t gotten fully back into his habit of waking early, still missed more sunrises than he met. But he had managed to catch a few, most viewed through the window of his room, a spare handful greeted on the roof of the boardinghouse once he’d regained enough strength to make the climb.

And enough stealth to evade Chris.

His smile grew mischievous as he remembered the first time he’d slipped away, as he recalled the sense of purpose and excitement that had filled him. He’d waited for the usual time when Chris left his bed and returned to his own, a practice adopted for appearances’ sake, then had gone out himself for his customary trip to the privy.

At least that’s what he would’ve claimed had he been caught.

But he hadn’t been, and the trip to the privy had turned into a climb to the roof for a too-long delayed rendezvous with dawn. The climb had been hard, had taxed him far more than he’d anticipated, but had been worth every moment and twinge of discomfort for the joy of watching the first fingers of color streaking the sky and the first waves of light spilling down over the mountains. Another part of his life had fallen back into place at that moment, another piece of his soul had been healed.

And he’d discovered exactly how pissed Nathan Jackson could get when the healer, along with a narrow-eyed, tight-lipped Chris Larabee, had found him asleep up there. But it had been worth that, too.

He hadn’t tried again for a while; like he kept telling the boys, he was stubborn, not stupid, and he really wasn’t trying to drive Chris and Nathan into an early grave. Didn’t have any desire to put himself in one, either. But that first time had only whetted his appetite, not sated it, and he’d known all along there’d be another. And when that time came, it didn’t escape his notice that the somewhat rickety ladder built into the rear of the boardinghouse had been replaced by a new and much sturdier one.

Seemed like the boys understood after all.

And, oddly enough, with that and a few other signs of their understanding, he’d stopped trying so hard to test his limits, and their patience. Wasn’t any need to fight the reins when no one was pulling back on them. The more room they gave him, the less he demanded; the further afield they were willing to let him go, the closer in he stayed. Solitary sunrises and the distant hills still beckoned to him, likely always would; there was just that part of him that needed to find out what existed out where the sky met the earth. Now, though, his whole heart wouldn’t be in that chase. Some part of it, the bigger part, would always remain behind, anchoring him to the place he’d found this side of the horizon, and that part would always lead him …

Home.

The word came to him unbidden and he blinked in startlement at its clarity, then rolled it around a few moments in his mind, on his tongue, and finally smiled and nodded. Home, yeah, that was it. Been so long since he’d had one that he’d all but forgotten the very notion. Yet here it was, deep and true and with a grip on him so strong and warm he couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t felt it before.

Or … maybe he had.

For so long now, even before Chris had come to him, he’d told himself – rather pathetically, he’d thought for a while – that home was just wherever Chris was. From the beginning he’d let so much of himself get caught up in the gunman that he’d known he’d never really be free again. And, painful as that notion had been back before he’d known that Chris felt the same, he’d always been far too much of a realist to dispute what he knew in every part of him to be true. Even back when he’d denied wanting him, Chris’d had him. But good.

But … it hadn’t been just Chris. Somewhere along the way he’d let himself get caught up in the others as well, given parts of himself to them that he hadn’t even known he had to give. Early morning talks about everything and nothing with Josiah, evenings spent playing cards with and needling Ezra, fishing trips and tracking lessons with JD, afternoons spent in friendly knife-throwing competitions or easy conversation with Nathan, hours spent laughing with Buck simply because it was impossible not to laugh when the man was determined that they would … There just wasn’t anything beyond the horizon that could begin to compare with what he’d found this side of it.

And, Lord, wasn’t that a revelation?

He snorted softly and shook his head, laughing at himself. Helluva tracker he was, missing a trail as clear as this! Stamped plain as day before him … inside him …

Would’ve taken a helluva lot more than Alvin Harper’s bullet to pull him away from this.

In the trees at the edge of the outcropping, Chris leaned against a gnarled trunk, arms crossed loosely against his chest, and watched Vin with a faint, soft smile. He’d been awake when the tracker had slipped out of his arms but had let him go, sensing what the younger man wanted, needed, and glad to let him have his time. He understood Vin’s need for silence and solitude to sort out and make straight whatever was running through his mind, even shared it to some extent.

And, hell, to be perfectly honest, he just liked to watch Vin think.

His smile widened into a grin as he recognized and freely admitted his own ulterior motive. He liked watching Vin, period. The man was a constant source of wonderment to him, changeable as the weather, constant as the earth. Young in years but old in life and knowing, poet and predator, a man who could stare dispassionately down the barrel of a rifle and coldly mark another for killing or gaze at him with a lover’s eyes and with the smallest of smiles shatter all knowledge of cold and death forever.

Hell, he could watch Vin through a thousand sunrises and never get tired of the sight.

What he couldn’t do, though, was watch for long from a distance.

Unfolding his arms, he pushed away from the tree and started forward, making no effort to silence his steps. Wouldn’t do any good, he knew; Tanner had likely heard him when he’d risen from his blankets. His boldness was rewarded when Vin turned his head and gave him a brilliant smile of welcome that put the sun’s own dazzling display to pitiful shame. Tanner was hatless, his long hair stirring on the faint breeze and gleaming richly in the morning light, his face relaxed, unguarded, alight. Chris stared helplessly and unconsciously quickened his pace when Vin held out a beckoning hand to him, drawn body and soul to the man who was the rising and setting of his sun.

Vin said nothing as Chris crossed the outcropping, then scrambled easily up onto the boulder, knew no words were needed between them. Even when the man settled close beside him, slipped a strong arm around him and pulled him securely into the shelter of his warm, hard body, he said nothing, merely gave a slow, contented sigh and turned his face up for a kiss.

Every bit as silent and content, Chris met Vin’s mouth with his own, claiming the tracker’s lips with a sweet, soft tenderness. No passion, not yet, but love, a desire not to possess or master but simply to know and share this deep tide of feeling that flowed so freely between their hearts. He tightened his arm about Vin, cupped his other hand to the tracker’s face and just let himself drift upon the tide, holding and kissing and breathing the man ever more deeply into himself.

At last, at long last, the kiss ended, Vin softly licking Chris’s lips before he let them go, then exhaling unsteadily and dropping his head onto Chris’s shoulder, still smiling happily. “Mornin’, cowboy,” he rasped softly, laying an arm over the one wrapped about him.

“Mornin’, yourself,” Chris breathed, his other hand still lightly stroking Vin’s face. He tipped his head to rest against Vin’s and they simply sat there for a long, unmeasured time, bodies touching at every point they could manage, hearts and souls twined even more intimately.

Two men made one in so many ways they’d long ago stopped counting.

The sun rose steadily higher, and together they watched the shadows of night flee from its spreading light, both aware that what they watched mirrored the dwindling of their own shadows as well. Neither was fool enough to think he’d ever be completely rid of the darkness; each had done and seen and lost too much for that. But the pasts and shadows that had once threatened to engulf them had been pushed back, their chokeholds upon them loosened, and both now felt light and life in places they’d once thought forever dark and dead.

They’d both made it through the night.

Vin turned his face into Chris’s caressing hand and pressed a kiss into his palm, then kissed each of his fingers in turn, remembering the many times the feel of that hand upon him had been all that had held him to this life. And not just as he’d lain in the clinic after Alvin had shot him, but so many other times as well, times his wounds had been less visible but no less deep and crippling. Times he’d desperately needed a hand to hold, to hold him, but hadn’t known how to ask … and hadn’t had to. When he’d been too scared or weak to reach out, it hadn’t mattered, because Chris had always reached for him, the man’s grip a promise more profound than any words could have made.

I gotcha, and I ain’t ever gonna letcha go.

“You all right?” Chris asked softly, feeling a twinge of worry as Vin seemed to huddle more closely against him. He tightened his own arm in response, holding the tracker as tightly as he could and cradling his hand to his face.

“Yeah,” Vin whispered, reveling in that hold. “Jist thinkin’ about all the times you coulda let me go an’ didn’t.”

“Never gonna let you go,” Chris said softly, the words a solemn vow. “Wouldn’t be any use in holdin’ on myself if I did.”

“Alvin used t’ say he loved me,” Vin sighed. He lifted his head and looked at Chris, blue eyes dark and deep. “You was doin’ it long before y’ ever said the words.”

Chris smiled slightly and slid his thumb slowly over Tanner’s mouth. “Gonna do it and say it from now on,” he breathed. “And mean it with everything that’s in me.”

Vin gave a small, crooked smile, lifting a hand to brush the golden hair off Larabee’s forehead. “Ain’t ever known nobody like you, Chris,” he rasped. He slid his hand to the one still cupping his face and laced his fingers through the gunman’s, his smile growing stronger when Chris’s fingers curled around his. He pulled their joined hands down to rest over his heart, his eyes never leaving Larabee’s. “Ain’t ever gonna let you go neither.”

Chris smiled and nodded, touched to his soul by the wealth and depth of feeling in that soft, hoarse voice and in the eyes gazing into his. “Sounds like a plan, partner,” he whispered, the words as binding as the vows he’d taken with Sarah. “Guess we’re stuck with each other then.”

“Reckon so,” Vin agreed, his smile spreading as the words, and the truth behind him, sank deep into his soul.

“Ain’t always gonna be easy, though,” Chris warned. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but,” he winked and grinned, “I’ve been told I can be kind of hard ta live with.”

Vin snorted sharply at that, his smile twisting into a scowl. “Hard?” he repeated, voice dripping with disdain. “Hell, cowboy, y’ make my goddamn hair hurt–”

“Shut up,” Chris growled, snatching his hand from Vin’s and grabbing his shoulders to yank the younger man to him. “Ain’t but one way t’ silence a goddamn mouthy tracker …”

Hard hands gripped him, hard lips claimed his, and Vin shivered and surrendered without a struggle to the gunman’s will. “Hell,” he whispered into Chris’s mouth as he twined his arms about the man’s body, “so much fer easy …”

THE END