Christmas Memories by Winnie

This is being written as a thank you to Nin for setting up my web page... I'm so grateful to her for taking this on and the wonderful job she's done. I asked her what she wanted and she asked for an Old west Chris fic...sick and feverish with Vin as comforter. Hopefully this will fit the bill. Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Antoinette.

He rode through the long cold night, his instincts telling him he was still moving towards his intended destination. The night sky darkened as the moon and vast array of stars were obliterated by encroaching storm clouds. He pulled the black duster tighter around his body and buried his chin in the collar as cold rain began to fall, soaking him to the skin in a matter of minutes.

I'll be there, Sarah, he thought as he trembled in the saddle. The rain mirrored how he felt as he made his way towards the empty home. A place that had once held the warmest of souls, but was now a cold dead world, empty and devoid of the promises they'd made to each other. Those promises were shattered along with his world when a madwoman paid to have his wife and son ripped from his heart.

He felt Pony stumble beneath him and knew the horse was tiring as he rubbed his hand against his aching chest.

"Not much further," he said as he patted the animal's rain slick neck. As if in answer the dark head jerked towards him before turning back to the trail and continuing the journey.

The rain continued to fall, with little consideration for the two lone travelers. Nothing moved except man and horse as they rode silently through the stormy night, intent on making their destination.

Chris's thoughts turned to the six men back in Four Corners. He knew Nathan's anger was well grounded and at any other time he would've listened to his advice, but it was Christmas Eve. The third since his world had crumbled around him. His right hand found its way to his throat and he rubbed at the raw feeling as the urge to cough continued to build. He knew once he started it would continue until his chest grew tight and his lungs seemed to shrink until little or no air entered.

"Not now," he shouted hoarsely as the attack began. He pulled Pony to a stop and dismounted, holding tightly to the animal's reins as he felt his strength give out. He dropped to his knees in the muddy soil and shivered as his body reacted to the chill seeping into his bones. He felt Pony's head nudge him and tried to speak, but nothing escaped his ravaged throat. He held tightly to the gelding's reins until the attack subsided, leaving him shivering and cold. He pulled himself up, using the animal and the reins until he was leaning against the wide body.

He opened his eyes and shook his head as he realized he didn't have the strength to climb back into the saddle. He looked around the dark landscape, surprised to see the familiar windmill in the distance. He was home, now all he had to do was force one foot in front of the other and drag his ailing body across the distance. Fighting the sucking mud he lifted one booted foot and then another, over and over he repeated this action until there was nothing left, nothing more to call on. As if from a distance he heard Pony, but he was far beyond the ability to answer as he gave in to his body's demand for release.

The clouds overhead parted to reveal a single star shining brightly down on the farm. It illuminated the unconscious man lying next to the door of the burnt out home. Pony stood next to him, nuzzling his owner in an effort to wake him. The horse quickly lost interest and turned its attention to the grass that surrounded the abandoned home.

Having finished a final patrol of the area to the north of town, Vin Tanner rode silently into Four Corners. The rain had long since doused the street fires and the clouds had given way to early morning dawn. He shivered as his clothing stuck to his skin, then tiredly dismounted and led Peso into the livery. He walked towards the stall he used and frowned as he noticed Pony was missing.

Thought Nathan wanted ya to stick around until ya felt better, he thought as he unsaddled the gelding and reached for the brush. He looked up as Tiny entered the stable and moved towards him.

"I'll take care of him, Vin. Why don'tcha go on over to the saloon and get somethin' to warm you up."

"Where's Chris?"

"Should be sleepin' in his room. Nathan told him if he wanted to be at the Christmas celebration he needed to rest," Tiny explained as he took the brush from the tracker.

"What's wrong, Vin?"

"Pony's not here?"

"He's not?" the liveryman said, confusion heavy in his voice. "He was here when I went to bed"

"How long ago was that?"

"Just after Ezra rode out on patrol."

"That was jest after supper. Right?"

"Yeah, I was feelin' kinda poorly and figured I'd turn in early."

Tanner turned towards the brightening sky and shook his head as he thought of his stubborn friend. He knew Chris had been depressed since getting sick, but also felt there was some underlying reason why he was fighting Nathan's advice. He remembered the fever blotches on Larabee's cheeks the day before and the hacking cough that seemed to tear from his lungs. The gunslinger had agreed to stay put, and they trusted him to keep his word.

"Where's Buck?" he asked, knowing the scoundrel would be the one to ask about Larabee.

"He's over at the saloon. So are the others, well except for Nathan."

"Where's Nathan?"

"He rode out to the Carter place at the same time Ezra left. Seems their youngest managed to fall outta the loft and busted his leg."

"Damn, hope the kid's able ta have Christmas," the tracker said, remembering his own childhood and the lack of family to celebrate with. He managed on his own for so many years, and had been looking forward to a celebration, with his new family.

"Me too. Hate seeing kids suffer, especially at this time of year."

"Yeah. I'm probably gonna be riding back out as soon as I talk with the others. Ya got a mount I can take. Peso's worn out."

"Sure, you can use Thunder," the liveryman answered.

Vin knew Thunder was not as mean spirited as most people thought he was and he nodded his thanks to the horse's owner. He hurried out of the livery and moved towards the saloon. He knew he needed to get out of the wet clothes, but it would have to wait until he spoke with the others. He pushed through the batwing doors and looked at the four men seated at their normal table. He was shocked to see the gambler sitting with them, but realized he probably hadn't been to bed yet.

"Would you like some breakfast and coffee, Senor?"

The tracker turned to the pretty Mexican woman and nodded gratefully.

"Yes, ma'am," he said and joined the other peacekeepers.

"Is everything alright, Vin?" Wilmington asked, noting the worry in the expressive blue eyes.

"Not sure. Anyone know where Chris is?"

"Should be in his room, sleeping. Nathan gave him one of his special teas and told him to rest," Sanchez explained.

"I think Mr. Larabee has the right idea and if you will all excuse me I'm going to retire to my own warm bed for the..."

"Day," Dunne teased.

"Well, I have been up all night, Mr. Dunne," Standish said, standing and stretching his tired body.

"Pony ain't in his stall," the tracker informed the others as Inez brought him a plate of bacon and biscuits and a cup of steaming black coffee. Vin took the cup and took a small sip, his eyes meeting Buck Wilmington's.

"Did you check his room?" the ladies' man asked.

"Not yet. Wanted ta see if'n he was here with you boys first."

"Dammit! Nathan wanted him resting. Vin you eat. I'll go check his room," Wilmington told him.

"Thanks, Buck," the tracker said. He sat at the table and picked at the food. He could feel Sanchez watching him and turned to meet the ex-preacher's gaze. He wasn't surprised to see Standish had retaken his seat and that JD was watching Buck's retreating form. They remained silent, waiting for the ladies' man to return, hoping that Chris Larabee was tucked tightly in bed, sleeping like he was supposed to be.

Chris struggled to open his eyes, and frowned as he realized he was lying on the cold hard ground. The rain that started the night before had changed to snow and he shivered uncontrollably. He briefly wondered why it was snowing, but shook it off, realizing he had a promise to keep. He fought against the weariness invading his body and tried to sit up, smiling as Pony nuzzled against his back.

"Hey, Boy," he rasped, amazed at how weak his voice sounded. He swallowed painfully and felt the heaviness in his chest. He reached for Pony's reins and pulled himself up, moaning as his legs threatened to give out and the world around him swirled in white snowflakes. He placed his head on Pony's neck and kept his eyes closed until the nausea passed.

Chris reached for the canteen and uncapped it with numbed fingers. He took a small sip and wished he had something a little warmer to drink. Recapping the canteen, he placed it back on the saddle and wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to warm them up. He felt the familiar tickle at the back of his throat and almost instantly the quiet, snow filled morning was filled with the torturous sound of his coughing. He dropped to his knees and landed hard as he struggled to breathe. Over and over the harsh sound left his throat, making him feel like he was breathing in fire, instead of the cold, crisp, morning air. He had no idea how long the attack lasted, but it left him feeling weak and drained. He spit thick mucus on the ground and again fought his way to his feet.

The landscape around him came into focus and he recognized the burnt out remains of his dream. Tears filled his eyes as he moved towards the remnants of the home he'd shared with his wife and son. They'd spent so many nights in front of the fireplace, sharing their dreams of the future. The love they had for each other would last forever and deep in his heart he knew they'd be together again someday. Until then he promised himself to spend each Christmas, reliving the happy memories they'd made during their short time together. He looked towards the stuffed saddlebags and knew it wasn't filled with normal supplies. The contents represented nine Larabee family Christmas's. The first six were memories of his life with Sarah and Adam, the final three were made to show how much he still loved and missed them.

The sick man reached for the item he'd placed in the second saddlebag. Something he'd need if he was to continue to keep his promise to the ones he loved. He picked up the hatchet and made his way towards the strand of trees growing along the creek. Chris knew he'd find the perfect tree somewhere along the banks, and he would cut it down and bring it back to the small fenced in graveyard. There he would put the tree between the two graves and place his carvings on the tiny branches.

Larabee rotated his shoulders in an effort to work out the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. His chest continued to feel heavy and he knew he was sicker than he'd thought. At any other time he'd make his way to shelter and relish the warmth of a fire, but this promise was one he could not break, would not break, no matter what. He pulled the black duster closer around his body and tucked his head down into the collar as he trudged through the gently falling snow. The creek was heavier than usual; the level higher because of the heavy rainfall, but nothing would deter Chris from finding the perfect Christmas tree to share with his family.

Vin looked up as Wilmington returned from his search of Larabee's room. He knew from the look on the older man's face, the news was not good and he pushed his half eaten meal away.

"He ain't there!" the irate ladies' man informed them.

"Nathan's gonna have his head!" Dunne exclaimed, remembering Jackson's stern warning that Larabee needed to rest if he expected to get well.

"Nathan ain't the only one, Kid!" the ladies' man hissed and he leaned on the back of a chair.

"Where would Mr. Larabee have gone on such a miserable day?" Standish asked, all thoughts of his warm bed vanished as soon as Wilmington told them the news.

"Maybe he went out to his place," the young Bostonian suggested.

"Mebbe," Tanner said, drinking the last of his coffee and standing up.

"Goin' somewhere, Vin?" Sanchez asked.

"Figured I'd take a ride out ta Chris's place," the tracker answered.

"I'm comin' with ya!" the scoundrel snapped, his tone telling them he wasn't going to back down.

"Alright. Me and Buck'll check Chris's place. Josiah..."

"Don't worry, Vin. I'm sure JD, Ezra and I can keep an eye on things around here. If you find Chris you might want to hog tie him and get him back here before Nathan gets wind of it."

"We'll do our damndest," Wilmington said and the two friends walked swiftly out of the saloon.

"I stopped at the livery and had Tiny saddle the horses for us," the scoundrel explained as they headed for the stable.

"Thanks, Buck," Tanner said, the worry he felt at Larabee's disappearance easy to read in the set of the young man's shoulders.

"Don't worry too much. Vin, we'll probably find ol' Chris snuggled up in his bed with a bottle of whiskey to warm him up."

Vin nodded his head slightly, knowing Wilmington was just as worried as he was. He remembered Nathan's warning that Chris could easily end up with pneumonia if he didn't take care of himself. They reached the livery and found that Tiny had both animals ready for them.

"I thought you could use some fresh supplies," the liveryman said, pointing to the full saddlebags and canteens.

"Thanks, Tiny, we owe ya," Tanner said.

"Don't owe me nothing, Vin. You boys have done so much for Four Corners since ya took over as peacekeepers. Ya have no idea how many horses were stolen from me before ya'all were hired by Judge Travis. It's about time I was able to give somethin' back. Hope ya find Chris," he said as the two men led the horses from the livery.

"Thanks, Tiny...we will!" Wilmington vowed as a tiny snowflake floated past his nose. He tugged his coat closer around his body and realized Tanner was going to feel the cold today, but there was nothing they could do about that.

Chris picked his way carefully through he thick mire as he spotted a small sapling that would be perfect for what he wanted to do. The rain and snow made things treacherous as he made his way towards the tree, and he stumbled a few times. Twice his feet landed in the cold water, but he would not give up his quest for the perfect tree to hang his memories on. He lost track of time as he grabbed at brush and trees to keep from falling and dropped to the ground beside the sapling as exhaustion and fever wracked his body. He pulled the damp duster around his body and blew into his hands to warm them up, but to no avail. He trembled and held his chest as another attack of harsh coughing tore from his chest. His throat felt like a swarm of bees were beating against the sides and he looked for his canteen, belatedly remembering he'd left it beside Pony. He looked at the small creek and sighed heavily. He forced himself to his feet and made his way to the creek's edge where he dipped his hand into the frigid water. He drank as much as he could, and sat back on his haunches as his stomach grumbled rebelliously. Over and over his stomach heaved until there was nothing left to expel.

The gunman had no idea how long he knelt on the ground, trying to get his ailing body under control. He coughing stopped, but the bees continued to attack his throat as he made his way back to the sapling. He lifted the small hatchet and began to hack at the trunk. The only sound besides the thwack of the hatchet hitting the sapling was the sound of the harsh breathing as the gunslinger tried to catch his breath.

The two worried peacekeepers rode steadily towards Larabee's little piece of heaven. The tiny cabin he'd built was slowly becoming home for the blond and Buck knew his long time friend was laying down roots. Something he didn't expect to see from the man again, yet all the signs were there.

"Do you think he's there, Vin?" the ladies' man asked as the light snow subsided and a cold wind blew across them.

"Don't know. Hope so," the tracker answered simply.

"If he is Nathan's gonna be downright ornery when he finds out. I mean he did tell Chris to stick around town until he was feeling better. Damn stubborn bull headed..."

"Best not let Chris hear ya sayin' that," the younger man said as they crested the hill and spotted the cabin.

"Damn, this ain't good!" Wilmington swore as they spotted the cabin. Pony was absent from the corral and there was no sign that Larabee was at home.

The sharpshooter didn't argue as he led the way towards the cabin. They dismounted and searched the grounds surrounding the cabin and corral.

"Anything, Vin?"

"There's no sign he's been here since before he got sick!" the tracker said as he returned from the creek.

"Dammit! Where can he have gone?" the ladies' man hissed.

"Thought fer sure he'd be here. Think, Buck, where would Chris disappear ta on Christmas Eve."

"I'm not sure, Vin. I mean it has to be something he felt he needed to do or he wouldn't have left town. We both know he respects Nathan as a healer. Hell, we all do."

The two men stood quietly for a few minutes, trying to figure out where the gunslinger could possibly have gone. Vin looked towards the darkening sky overhead and knew there was more bad weather in store for the area.

Where the hell are ya, Cowboy? he thought as he pulled his buckskin jacket closer around him.

"Damn!" the ladies' man swore as he turned to the tracker.

"What's wrong?"

"Think I know where Chris has gone..."

"Where?" the sharpshooter asked hopefully.

"Back to his old place."

Tanner frowned and looked towards the north where the clouds seemed heavier and seeded with rain or if the temperature continued to drop, more snow.

"Why would he go there?"

"Something he said to Sarah when they were first married. I remember thinking they were the happiest couple I'd ever seen. Felt like I should leave 'em alone, but they wouldn't hear of it. We'd just finished decorating the Christmas tree and Sarah and Chris were snuggled in front of the fire while I warmed up some cider. I didn't mean to listen in on 'em, but I guess I was a little jealous at the time," he explained and swiped at his eyes.

Vin didn't miss the moisture in the ladies' man's eyes, and he waited patiently for him to continue. It didn't take long and Tanner listened to the tale of the Larabee's first Christmas.

"I remember Chris making a promise to Sarah..."

"What promise?" Tanner coaxed when the man became distant and sullen.

"That he'd make sure they were always together at Christmas," Wilmington said wistfully. "You know he made that promise every year when he added another ornament to the tree. The la...last one he m...made was especially for Adam. A little wooden train with wheels that actually turned. A...Adam was so excited about it that Chris used to take it off the tree and let him play with it."

"Chris was working on something over the last few weeks. Figured it was for Billy, but I reckon it was a mite tiny fer that."

"He was probably making an ornament and if he was then he's gone back to the homestead."

"Guess we'd best go check on 'im," Tanner said, moving towards Thunder.

"Hell, if that's where he is I'm gonna...." he trailed off as he realized he would probably grab the blond in a hug as was his habit.

"Let's ride!" Tanner said as he mounted and waited for the ladies' man to do the same. The trail was slick from the freezing rain as the headed north towards the burnt out Larabee homestead.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief as the tree toppled softly to the ground. He tried to draw a deep breath but his ravaged throat seemed to close over and he fought the urge to cough. He dropped the hatchet and vigorously rubbed his hands in order to warm them. He looked up at the darkening skies as he stamped his feet to get the circulation flowing once more. He knew he needed to start a fire and dry out his shoes and socks before he started working on the tiny tree.

Get a move on, Larabee! he silently ordered and lifted the end of the sapling. He reached for the hatchet and slowly moved along the riverbank, swearing as he slipped more and more. The top layer of mud was quickly becoming icy and he knew he had to be careful or he'd be taking a dip in the creek.

The gunslinger had no idea how long it took him to make his way back to the farmyard. The empty corral tugged at his heart as he remembered the day Buck helped him take the string of horses to Mexico. He swallowed painfully as he looked at what he'd returned to. The home that was so filled with warmth and love when he left was now cold and lonely as the wind swept across the clearing. He strode towards the remainder of the front stoop and sank down on the step.

"God, Sarah, I miss you both so much," he cried and was forced to wrap his arms around his chest as the ache in his lungs grew worse and another spasm of coughs erupted from his fevered body. He tried to stand, but the cold and exertion caught up with him and he dropped to the ground, drawing his long legs up to his body in an effort to conserve whatever heat remained within him. Tears continued to flow from his eyes as consciousness left him.

They moved towards him, fear on their faces as they knelt beside the man they'd both loved in life. Their voices could not be heard by the still form, but their presence registered in his subconscious and he reached for the warmth they supplied him in life.

Be still, Love! Buck's coming for you and he'll make sure you're alright, the ethereal form of Sarah Larabee whispered into the growing cold.

"Sarah...sss....so...ccccc...cold," the gunslinger stammered, his eyes remained closed and his breathing harsh in the still air. His chattering teeth told the two spectral images just how cold their loved one was.

Please, God, don't let him die like this! Sarah begged as tears formed on her angelic face.

Please help Papa get better, the small boy pleaded as he glanced into the cloudy gray sky.

Sarah and Adam continued their vigil over the ill man, feeling his hold on life flowing from his body with the little heat he still held. As day slowly waned into night the two figures remained where they were, praying constantly for a miracle for the husband and father lying on the ground. Sarah lifted soft eyes heavenward as a bright light shone overhead. She felt the heat flowing from the lone orb in the sky and smiled as the blond moaned softly. She knew her prayer had been answered and although her husband had a battle ahead of him, help would get there in time.

Uncle Buck's gonna help him, right, Mama?

I hope so, Honey, Sarah Larabee whispered into the silent night. On this Holy Night she prayed that the man she'd loved like a brother would be there to save her husband. His time on earth was not over yet and if he lost his life too soon he would be in limbo for the years he was supposed to live. She prayed this would not happen as again her gaze returned to the bright light shining overhead.

He has to, Mama. He has to help Papa live.

Sarah pulled her son into her arms and held him against the chill winds, sheltering their loved one's body with their own until Buck Wilmington and his companion arrived.

Buck knew they were getting close as a light snow began to fall once again. The cold was fierce as the wind seemed to cut through the heavy clothing he wore. They'd been riding in silence for so long that he felt alone in the world. He knew this was one of the reasons Chris and Vin got along so well, the two men could communicate with just a flick of the head or a meeting of the eyes. It still amazed the ladies' man to see the two peacekeepers silently signaling each other without even realizing they were doing so.

Vin rode slightly ahead and to the left of his companion and was grateful for the silence between them. He knew Wilmington had a tendency to make small talk, but the man seemed to understand his own need for quiet. He knew from Buck's explanation they were nearing Larabee's old spread and the beating of his heart felt like a hammer against his chest. He knew the gunslinger was there, could feel something tugging at him to race towards the homestead, but to do so would be dangerous in the darkness. Normally he'd have insisted they stop for the night, but something nagged at him, something only he could feel, yet he knew the ladies' man felt the same way.

"Should be just over that rise, Vin!" Wilmington said as they picked up the pace without realizing they were doing so.

The horses seemed to sense the urgency of the two riders and crested the hill at a near gallop. When they reached the summit they reined the horses to a stop and looked down at the dark shadows outlined against the midnight black sky and powdery white snow covering the ground. Nothing moved and for a few seconds the two men thought they'd made a mistake and that Larabee was not there. A soft whinny from near the shell of the house told them they hadn't made a mistake after all. Without a word the two friends hurried towards the homestead, hoping to find the missing gunslinger.

We have to go now, Adam, Sarah whispered as she saw the two silhouettes atop the hill.

But, Mama, Papa n...needs... the small boy sniffed as tears came to his green eyes.

"Uncle Buck will look after him now, Honey. You and I need to get back. We'll see your Papa again, but it's not his time yet and he has so much to do here," Sarah answered, bending down and placing a gentle whisper of a kiss on the cold cheek.

I love you, Christopher Larabee! she whispered as her form shimmered in the cold night air.

I love you, Papa, Adam Larabee said, wrapping his small arms around the lean shoulders.

Take care of him, Buck! Sarah whispered into the wind.

Take care of him, Buck! Wilmington heard the words as if they'd been spoken inside his mind. He felt warmth spread through him as he realized Sarah Larabee was still looking out for her husband. There was no doubt in his mind that she'd been here and he briefly felt Adam's presence as they neared the homestead.

"I will, Sarah," he answered softly.

"What?" Tanner asked as they rode side by side.

"Oh...uh... nothing..." the scoundrel smiled in spite of his worry.

Vin spotted the still, snow covered form lying in front of the remnants of the barn and hurried towards it. He knew Buck was on his heels as he dismounted and knelt beside the gunslinger.

"Buck..."

"I'll get a fire started, Vin. You take care of, Chris!" Wilmington ordered as he flipped the reins over a piece of railing and went in search of dry wood.

Tanner nodded and turned his attention to Larabee just as a raspy moan left the slack lips. He brushed the light covering of snow off the dark clothing and spoke softly to the ill man.

"Easy, Chris, I got ya..."

"S...Sarah..." Larabee gasped as his blurred vision focused on the soft brown hair hanging down over the shoulders. He tried to sit up as the scratching in his throat signaled another attack was eminent. He felt strong arms reach for him and lift him forward as the first of a series of tortured sounds came from his throat.

Vin held the trembling man as the painful sounds continued. He knew Larabee was sick, and from the sounds of things he needed to get inside and warmed up. The ride back to Four Corners would be hard, especially in the darkness, yet he knew they had to get the gunslinger warmed up. He lifted his head and gazed around as Wilmington rejoined them.

"Everything's soaked," he said as he knelt beside them. He turned his attention to the wheezing form cradled in the tracker's arms.

"How is he?" he asked.

"Not good. We need ta get 'im outta the cold. Hey, Cowboy," he said as Larabee raised his head and stared at him for a few seconds.

"S...SSSarah..." he mumbled tiredly as he reached for the snow covered mantle on the Texan's head.

Vin and Buck looked at each other before turning worried frowns on the sick man.

"Hey, Chris, that's Vin holdin' you," the ladies' man explained to the fever bright green eyes.

"B...Buck...S...she's here...hhhheard her and...and Adam..." Larabee insisted, shivering as the cold continued to sap his strength. He felt the strong arms tighten their hold on him and knew instinctively who held him. He lifted his head from the lean chest and met the soft blue orbs set in the worried face.

"V...Vin..."

"How are ya feelin'?" the tracker asked as Buck set about finding them some shelter from the incoming storm.

"Ccc....cold," Larabee answered, his breath visible in the frigid air.

"I know ya are, Pard. Buck's looking for a place ta get a fire goin'," the tracker offered and smiled as the ladies' man returned with a bedroll.

"This should help, Chris," Wilmington said as he opened the blanket and draped it over the shivering man.

"Th...thanks," Larabee whispered, his eyelids growing heavy once more. His grip on Tanner's arm tightened as he felt the young man drawing away.

"Easy, Cowboy, just gonna make sure the blanket's covering ya," the sharpshooter soothed. He watched as the scoundrel again moved away in search of a place to shelter them from the worst of the wind and snow. The flakes were thicker now, as the wind blew from the north, carrying with it the frigid winds of the mountains to the north. He had no idea how long he sat holding the ill man, but Wilmington's voice came to him from the west. He turned his gaze in that direction just in time to see the older man run across the yard.

"There's a small cave cut in the hillside a short distance from here. I remembered it from when A...Adam was alive. It was his favorite hiding place."

"How big?"

"Big enough for the three of us," the ladies' man explained.

"Alright, Gimme a hand ta get Chris up," Tanner said. He pulled away from his friend and smiled as he felt Larabee's grip tighten once more. Then blond looked vulnerable as he lay shivering on the ground and his pale face worried the sharpshooter. He looked towards the ladies' man and nodded as he reached for the gunslinger's other arm.

"N...no... t...tired," the blond rasped, his head lolling to the side as they lifted him to his feet.

"I know you are, Pard. You just lean on ole Buck and Vin and we'll get you warmed up and let you sleep," Wilmington said.

Larabee moaned and opened his eyes as the queasiness returned with the pain in his chest. He fought the urge to be sick and waited for the dizziness to abate. He felt two sets of hands holding him, but fought against them as his gaze landed on the tiny sapling covered in snow. He frowned as his groggy mind latched onto the reason he'd come home in the first place.

"Come on, Chris," Wilmington insisted as he pulled Larabee away from the ruined farmhouse.

"N...nnnooo, ha....have tttto...fin...ish it!" the blond insisted through chattering teeth.

"Finish what?" the ladies' man asked.

"T...tree...pro...missed... Sarah....Adam... be to...gether... Christ...mas," the gunslinger wheezed, but couldn't get away from the hands holding him upright.

"Chris, you're sick, Cowboy..."

"I k...know I'm sssick, Vin...but...I nnneed t...to do this," the blond insisted, trying unsuccessfully to pull away from his friends.

"You need to get warmed up first!" the tracker warned.

"Pro...missed," Larabee stammered, his teeth chattering as they half carried him away from the house and the memories it held.

"Chris, me and Vin will help you with the tree tomorrow..."

"Buck..."

"No, Chris! Not now! Sarah and Adam would not want you to make yourself worse by staying out in this storm."

"I...I pro..."

"They'll understand," Wilmington insisted as he led the way to the cave. He knew Larabee didn't have the strength to fight him and Vin, yet the blond continued to try and pull away.

"Look, Larabee, yer freezin' and yer sick! Ya really think Sarah and Adam would want ya ta ignore yer health?" Tanner snapped as they continued towards the shelter.

"We're cold too, Chris, and the tree can wait until tomorrow!" Wilmington hissed, impatient with the sick man as they entered the cave. The fire he'd started before returning to get Vin and Buck cast a soft glow over the rock walls.

"Can ya hold 'im fer a minute, Buck?"

"I got 'im. Vin," The ladies' man said as he held on to the shivering gunman.

Tanner took the blanket from around the lean shoulders and spread it on the cold ground. He stood up and grabbed onto Larabee's waist and helped him to the blanket. They eased the gunslinger down, and the tracker saw the pain in the half-mast eyes.

"It'll be alright, Chris..."

"I promised, Vin. D...don't wa...want them a...lone at Christ...mas," the sick man said as a single tear dropped from each eye and tracked its way down his red cheeks.

"They won't be, Chris. Once we get ya warmed up and feelin' better we'll put up that tree."

"That's right, Stud. Me and Vin are gonna help you with it, but right now you need to get warmed up. Okay?"

"...okay..." the blond agreed softly, his eyelids closing and hiding the pain he still felt. "M...miss 'em s...so m...much."

"So do I, Pard, so do I," the ladies' man whispered as the sharpshooter stood up.

"I'm gonna take care of the horses and see if'n I can find some more dry wood," the tracker said.

"Alright, Vin, bring in whatever blankets we got!" The tracker nodded as he walked out of the cave into the stormy night.

Buck added more fuel to the fire and placed some of the wet firewood close enough to dry out. He turned back to the blond to see the green eyes open and staring at him.

"B...Buck?" Larabee groaned and held his arms to his chest as a hacking cough erupted from deep in his lungs.

Wilmington winced in sympathy and helped the ill man sit up. He let Larabee lean back against his chest in an effort to ease his breathing. He wished Nathan was there, but knew it was up to him and Vin to care for the gunslinger until they returned him to Jackson's clinic. He sat holding his friend, wishing there was something he could do to ease the trembling and chattering teeth.

"How's he doin'?" Tanner asked when he returned half an hour later to find the ladies' man holding the gunslinger upright. He dropped two more blankets, saddlebags, and a couple of canteens close to the fire as he watched the blond's face closely.

"Fell asleep about five minutes ago. I'm worried about his breathing, Vin. Tried to lie him down a couple of times but he couldn't seem to catch his breath."

"Ya okay with him fer a little longer?"

"Sure, why?"

"I'm gonna bring in Pony's saddle and maybe we can rig it up fer 'im ta lean on!"

"I can hold 'im," the ladies' man assured the younger man and watched as the buckskin clad man left the cave once more. Again his mind turned to the days he'd spent with Chris, Sarah, and Adam Larabee. Their love went beyond anything he'd ever witnessed and he wished they'd been given more time to nurture it. Tears came to his own eyes as he thought of the small boy and the day Adam found the cave and hid his treasures here. Buck looked into the dark corner to his right and wondered if there were any of those treasure still hidden there. He vowed to check once Larabee was settled for the night.

The ladies' man watched as the tracker made several trips outside before he was satisfied they had everything they needed for the night. The cave was not that big and the fire warmed the surrounding area. Buck watched as the sharpshooter placed a blanket over the saddle and the ground directly in front of it.

"Alright, Buck, we need ta get 'im outta them wet clothes."

"Did he have anything in his saddlebags we can use?"

"Yeah," the tracker said, pointing to the clothes he'd pulled from the saddlebags.

The two men hurriedly removed the wet clothing from the ill man, his lean body continued to shake with the cold. They placed his boots and socks next to the fire and quickly dressed him in the dry shirt, pants, and socks he carried with him. Larabee remained oblivious to their efforts as Wilmington lifted him and carried him across to the new bed. Again they covered him in a second blanket and listened to the raspy wheeze emanating from his lungs.

"Wish Nate was here," Tanner said softly.

"Me too, Vin. If the snow stops we'd better head on out first thing in the morning."

"Yeah," the tracker agreed as he set about making coffee and heating water.

"Tiny thought of everything," Wilmington smiled as he opened his bags and pulled out some jerky and biscuits. He tossed a couple to the younger man and they sat in silent vigil over their friend.

Vin stood in the entrance to the cave, his eyes gazing over the snow-covered landscape. The storm had stopped during the night, but the wind from the north still carried a biting edge with it. He turned back to the cave as the all to familiar sound drifted through the silence. Turning away from the dawning light he moved back into the relative warmth of the cave. He knelt beside his sick friend as Wilmington grabbed a cup of warm tea from the fire. He'd lost count of how many times he'd thanked God that Nathan insisted they always carry medical supplies with them. Chris's saddlebags contained a minimal amount of supplies, but it was enough to see them through the night, and part of the day.

Chris groaned as the harsh cough left him breathless. He didn't feel the strong arms supporting him or the worried looks the two men exchanged. He felt something warm placed against his lips and sipped the liquid gratefully. The taste was bitter, but it helped to warm him and the shivering slowly eased. He turned away before he'd drank half the offering as his stomach clenched tightly and nausea made him gag.

"How are you feeling?" Wilmington asked as a pair of tired, fever bright eyes opened and focused on him.

"...lousy...sick...cold..." Larabee wheezed, the effort to speak obviously painful.

"We're gonna get you into your clothes and head back to Four Corners..."

"N...no! B...Buck, can't..." the blond tried to pull away from the tracker as he interrupted Wilmington. "C...can't leave....Prom...ised."

"Chris, you're sick, Pard..."

"I k...know, Vin, b...but." His words were lost as again he held his chest and coughed as he tried to get his lungs to take in enough air. He felt Tanner's hand on his back and knew the tracker was worried about him.

"No buts..."

"Pro...missed Sarah and Adam... n...not alone at Christmas," the blond muttered weakly.

"Chris, they aren't alone," Wilmington said, amazed that the blond was still fighting them.

"A...lone... cold... pro...missed, Buck... Have to put the t...tree up so they know I'm with t...them." Larabee turned towards the tracker, his head pounding at the slightest movement.

"P...please, Vin...Won't t...take lo...long...miss 'em b...both," Larabee's eyes filled with unshed moisture as he pushed the blanket off and struggled to sit up.

"Chris..."

"I'll do i...it my...self..." the gunslinger wheezed as he fought to stand up. The dim interior of the cave spun rapidly as he tried to stay on his feet.

"He ain't gonna leave until he sees it done, Buck," the tracker said, latching onto his best friend's arm as the man staggered towards the opening.

Wilmington nodded and stood before the swaying figure. He placed both hands on his hips and waited until Larabee lifted his head and looked at him.

"If we're gonna do this you stubborn fool, then you do as me and Vin say!" he swore.

"Y...you'll help?"

"Ain't got no choice, but," Tanner said from beside the blond.

"What?"

"You're gonna be explainin' it ta Nathan," the tracker warned.

"Okay... let's g...go."

"Ain't done yet..."

"What?" the gunslinger stared at the longhaired man.

"When we get ya back ta town ya go straight ta Nathan's and ya do as he says..."

"Okay..."

"He's not finished yet, Chris," Wilmington said sternly.

"S...said I'd do it..."

"Yeah, but ya stay there and don't argue. Ya ain't gonna argue with stayin' in that damn bed until Nathan lets ya out. Understood?"

"N...Nathan keeps us..."

"Understood?" the ladies' man repeated.

"'Cause if'n it ain't, Larabee, me and Buck'll hogtie ya, throw ya over Pony and take ya back ta town right now!"

"You wouldn't," Larabee hissed, his voice lacking its usual strength.

"Oh, I wouldn't be to sure of that, Pard. You don't have the strength to fight your way out of a bag, let alone fight me and Vin. Now are you gonna agree to this or do we leave now?"

"...get you..." He didn't finish the sentence as he turned away and doubled over, coughing painfully as he held his arms against his chest once more. He missed the exchange between the two men who steadied him as his legs began to give way.

"Maybe we'd best git him on back ta..."

"N...no..." Larabee shook his head vehemently.

"Ya gonna do as we say?" Tanner asked.

"Don't seem like I h...have much ch...choice."

"Ya don't. Now stay here by the fire with Buck while I get things set up..."

"I can help..."

"Chris, ya can help by stayin' put. Jest tell me where ya want the tree," the tracker ordered softly.

"I'm gonna..."

"You're gonna lie down here and rest 'til Vin comes back. Now where do ya want the tree?"

Larabee knew he couldn't fight them anymore. His strength was all but gone now, and he let the two men ease him back down beside the fire. He swallowed, wincing as the pain in his throat awakened with the movement. He nodded and closed his eyes as Wilmington pulled the blanket back over him.

"Put it be...tween the two g...graves," the blond said. "Want t...them to sssee...it," his words were troubled as he gave into the demands of his overtaxed body. The cold continued to seep into his bones and he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

"I'll be right back," Tanner said as he moved out the door.

"Vin, the graves are just north of the windmill," Wilmington explained.

"I'll find 'em," the tracker assured the ladies' man.

Buck watched the younger man leave, then turned his attention back to the gunslinger. He shook his head as the green eyes opened and gazed up at him from under half opened lids.

"You should try to rest, Chris. It's a long ride back to town and we're leaving as soon as the tree is decorated."

"W...wish we could s...spend the wh...whole day with 'em," Larabee mumbled, his voice low and weak.

"Uhuh, no way, Pard. We need to get you somewhere warm..."

"Warm he...here," the blond said, his continued shivering belying his declaration.

"Might as well give it up, Chris. This time tomorrow you'll be tucked under the blankets and under Nathan's tender care."

"Nathan mad?"

"He didn't know you'd left. By the time Vin came back from patrol you'd already lit out. I'm sure he'll wait until you feel better before..."

"Not likely," Larabee said as his eyelids closed. "He's gonna chew me out."

"You deserve it after leaving town like you did."

"I...kn...know."

Wilmington watched as his friend drifted off to sleep. He listened to the raspy breathing and knew they should leave right away, but he also realized this was something Larabee needed to do for his own peace of mind. He placed more wood on the fire and checked the black duster lying on the opposite side. He was glad to find the duster and the boots had dried out during the long night. He steeped a new cup of Jackson's special tea and sat down to wait on the sharpshooter.

Nathan rode slowly into town, his body aching from a combination of cold and weariness. He'd spent the night at the Carter farm, making sure Joseph's parents understood the boy needed to stay in bed and give the leg time to heal. The break was easy to set and he'd left a bottle of laudanum with the adults to help with the pain. The healer smiled as he thought of the child and how well he'd behaved when faced with having the leg set.

Children bounce back from injuries and illness so quickly, he thought as he looked towards the window of Larabee's room. Wish the same could be said for adults.

He dismounted in front of the livery and smiled as Tiny came out and took over the care of the tired animal.

"Thanks, Tiny," he said gratefully. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the boarding house and his only patient in town. He stopped mid stride as JD Dunne hurried towards him.

"Merry Christmas, Nathan," the young easterner said as he moved into step beside the former slave.

"Merry Christmas, JD. What's going on?"

"Nothin'! Just wanted to let you know Inez has breakfast ready if you're hungry."

"She got coffee too?" Jackson asked as he continued towards the boarding house.

"She sure does. Good and strong. Come on and I'll get you one."

"I'll be there as soon as I check on Chris," Jackson told the overanxious youth.

"Nathan..."

"Okay, JD, what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Nathan. Can't one man offer to get another man a coffee without..."

"Okay, where's Chris?"

"Ah... he's... that is..."

"JD!"

"We're not sure, Nathan."

"What the hell do you mean you're not sure! I know I asked all of you to keep an eye on him for me!" the healer said, striding towards the saloon.

"We were. He was in his room when you left and we thought he was sleeping..."

"That man never sleeps. Least not when somethin's ailing 'im. Did anyone check his cabin?"

"Vin and Buck rode out that way yesterday. They ain't back yet."

"So he wasn't there," Jackson frowned as he pushed through the batwing doors, sighing as the warmer air hit his chilled body.

"What makes you say that?"

"If he was, Buck or Vin would've rode back here to tell you," Jackson said as he moved to the table at the back.

"Merry Christmas, Brother," Sanchez said as the weary healer sat next to him. "How is young Joseph?"

"He's gonna be fine. Just has to stay off his feet for a while. Unless ya can make him a pair of them crutches."

"I'll get working on it tomorrow," the ex-preacher assured him.

"Good." He looked up as a plate of breakfast was placed in front of him and a cup of hot coffee was put beside it. "Thanks, Inez," he said gratefully.

"You're welcome, Senor." Turning her attention to the older man she asked. "Any word on Senor Chris?"

"Nothing yet," Sanchez answered worriedly.

"Damn fool for leavin' when he's sick like that," Jackson hissed as he wrapped his fingers around the warm mug.

"Buck and Vin will bring him back, Nathan," Dunne said as he returned with a cup of coffee for himself and Josiah.

"When they do I'm gonna tie him to the bed and put a bell 'round him so we'll hear him if he tries to escape," the former slave said, his voice showing his concern for their missing friends. They grew silent, thinking about Larabee's illness and the storm that crept up on them the day before.

Inez watched the three peacekeepers and knew they were thinking about Larabee, Tanner, and Wilmington. She knew the gunslinger was ill, and realized he must've been sicker than she realized as Jackson's concern was evident on his handsome face.

Please bring them home safe, she prayed as she returned to cleaning the glasses before her.

By the time Vin carried the little sapling to the small fenced in graveyard, stood and braced it between the two graves, his hands were frozen and his teeth chattered. The wind was bitter and seemed to cut him to the core, but at least the snow had stopped and the sun was seeping over the horizon. He took a quick look around before heading back to the cave. The snow wasn't deep, and probably wouldn't last once the sun came up, but they couldn't wait for that. Larabee needed to be back in town, snuggled under thick, warm blankets. Hell, Tanner, you'd like that yourself, he thought with a grin as he entered the cave.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the dimly lit interior and he saw Wilmington in the corner lifting something from the ground. He turned his attention back to the fire and saw the gunslinger turned on his right side, facing the fire. Larabee's cheeks were flushed with fever and small beads of sweat were evident on his forehead. His breathing was labored and a soft moan escaped his ravaged throat as the tracker watched him. He frowned as a sharp gasp came from the man standing in the corner of the cave.

"Buck, what's wrong?"

Wilmington swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and turned red-rimmed eyes towards the sharpshooter. His gaze quickly swept over the sick man and back to the item he cradled in his arms.

"Buck?"

"Vin. I...it's... I mean... Chris... He made this the year Adam was born. K...kid loved it a...and al...ways had it w...with him."

"What is it?" the tracker asked, joining the older man. He saw the item held tightly in the trembling hands and waited for the ladies' man to explain.

"Adam was born on a night like the one we had last night. A storm raged outside and we couldn't get to the doctor. Sarah was wrapped in blankets beside the fire and Chris sat on a chair next to their bed. He held her so tenderly, Vin. I know you wouldn't think Chris could have such feelings to look at him, but he was the best damn father and husband anyone could ask for. Well, he held her when the pain got so bad and she gripped his fingers in her own," his voice trailed off as he chuckled. "She broke one of his fingers. He never let on, never did tell her, but she knew. Hell he couldn't keep a secret from her if he tried. Anyway, Adam was born a little after midnight and Sarah was sleeping, the infant cradled in her arms. I watched Chris that night, Vin. Watched his eyes and knew there'd never been a man so in love. He leaned over and kissed them both and walked over to a stack of wood beside the door. He never said a word, just picked up this piece of wood and a knife and walked back to the bed. He sat in that chair with the lamp beside him and started cuttin' into that wood." Wilmington lifted his head from the carving and tears shone in his bright blue eyes as he glanced beyond the tracker to his long time friend, before continuing with his story.

"Have you ever tried to make something with a knife and a piece of wood, Vin?"

"No, can't say I have," the tracker answered.

"Well I tried, made a helluva a mess of it and ended up throwing it in the fire where it belonged. But Chris..." his voice held a wistful quality as he walked to the fire.

"He could carve anything when he set his mind to it. He sat beside that bed all night, making cuts in that piece of wood until the sun came shining through that little window. I tell you it framed Sarah and Adam in a wonderful light and I can still hear ol' Chris's voice as he looked at his wife and son. My beautiful angels. That's what he called them and you know that's what they looked like... little did he know..." again his voice trailed off as he handed Tanner the intricately detailed carving.

Vin couldn't take his eyes off the carving. The details were amazingly accurate, and although he'd never seen Sarah or Adam Larabee, he knew instinctively the features were accurate. Sarah lay with her eyes closed, her right arm wrapped lovingly around a tiny infant. Larabee had indeed captured the love of a mother and her child and Vin was once more amazed at how little he knew about this diverse man.

"It's beautiful," he whispered.

"Yeah, it is. Chris gave it to Sarah that Christmas and when Adam turned two he found it on the tree and wouldn't put it down," the scoundrel laughed warmly at the memory. "That boy just jumped up and down saying daddy made me and mommy...it's me and mommy. Sarah and Chris didn't have the heart to take it from him and he took it with him everywhere." He frowned as he looked down at the fevered blond.

"What's wrong?" Tanner asked.

"The carving disappeared a week before me and Chris l...left for Mexico. I remember Chris and Sarah searching for it, but they wouldn't ask Adam if he knew where it was because they didn't want to upset him."

"So how did it get here?"

"Remember I told you Adam loved to play in this cave. I think he must have put it here before we left."

"Ya gonna give it to Chris?"

"Yeah, when we get him back to town. I think it'd be too hard on him today."

"W...what's t...too hard?" Larabee's voice was barely above a whisper as he struggled to sit up.

Wilmington took the small carving and wrapped it in his own blanket as Tanner knelt beside the blond.

"Hey, Cowboy, how're ya feelin'?" the tracker asked as he watched Larabee's eyes.

"Lo...lou...sy," he rasped between harsh coughs. His eyes watered as he struggled to catch his breath and pulled the blankets closer around his shivering body.

"Reckon ya do," Tanner said, his hands making small circles around the man's back.

"Did y...you...did you get it done, V...Vin?" the blond asked as he met the wondrous blue eyes of his best friend.

"Yep, now why don't ya lie still and let me and Buck finish it and we'll..."

"N...no!" the voice was weak, but firm as the sick man threw back the blankets and struggled to stand.

"Chris, you're sick," Wilmington said as he joined the two men.

"I k...know...but I have to do this Buck...Please, Vin, just help me out t...there and I'll do any...thing you w...want. I j...just need to do this," Larabee said as the two men held him down.

"Alright, Cowboy, but ya jest sit still and let me and Buck help ya."

"...okay..." the blond agreed, too weak and tired to mount even a verbal protest. He closed his eyes and lay back against the saddle as the two men dressed him. He felt them struggle to put on his boots and smiled weakly as he felt Tanner help him sit up. His arms were forced into the sleeves of his duster and he felt trembling hands work at the buttons. He opened his eyes as the two men helped him to his feet, grateful for their firm grips as he swayed dangerously.

"Alright, Chris, let's get this finished and get you back to town," Wilmington said.

"Buck, grab my saddlebag," Larabee wheezed, turning his head away from the two men as he coughed and sneezed.

"Got it right here, Pard," the ladies' man said sympathetically as he heard the pain in his friend's voice.

Vin picked up Larabee's flat brimmed hat and plonked it down on the blond head. He helped lever Larabee across the small cave and out into the chilly air. He knew it would take a longer time to get the gunslinger to the graveyard as they supported most of his weight between them. The ground was treacherous as they walked towards the graveyard, and Vin could feel the tremble in Larabee's body as it grew more intense with each footstep. He lifted his head and met the concerned blue eyes of the ladies' man over Larabee's bowed head.

Chris concentrated on moving one foot at a time, his gaze straight ahead as they neared the graveyard. The two crosses were as he'd left them the year before and he felt as if a tight band was wrapped around his heart. The two people he'd loved more than life itself were buried beneath the cold soil, their lives cut short by individuals as yet unknown. I'll find them and make them, pay, he silently swore as Wilmington reached out and opened the small gate. The tree stood between the two graves, a stack of rocks holding it in place. He glanced at the tracker, sending his gratitude in that simple contact. His throat burned raw as he struggled to speak past the soreness.

"Gimme the bag, Buck!"

Wilmington released his grip on the gunslinger, knowing Tanner's keen reflexes were ready if needed.

"Tell me what you want first, Chris," the ladies' man ordered as he opened the bag.

"S...star," Larabee stammered painfully.

Buck recognized the item as he pulled it from the bag. He'd been at the house when Larabee presented it to Sarah and she'd cried out in delight. The Star was carved from a piece of wood and the five points were perfectly shaped, and stained by Larabee's own hands.

"I d...didn't know you still had this. Thought it got burned..."

"Sarah insis...ted on k...keeping the ornaments in the barn until we got ar...ound to finishing the extra room," the ill man explained as he reached for the star. "I f...found them there w...when I c...came back a y...year la...ter. God, I miss them," he said as he placed the star in its rightful place. His words held the pain of a man who'd lost the most precious gift someone could be granted, and Wilmington and Tanner realized that was exactly what had happened to their friend.

Vin watched as Wilmington reached inside and pulled out a second item. A small horse, perfectly carved cradled in his large hands, before being lovingly handed to the gunslinger.

"I remember when you made this one. A...Adam loved it so much...said it was Buck's horsey," the ladies' man said with a grin.

"Y...yeah," the blond wheezed as he attached the wooden horse to a small branch. He smiled as Tanner reached for his arm and steadied him. "Thanks."

"Ah, Hell, Chris," Wilmington said as he pulled a small silver bell from the bag. He'd given it to Sarah after several failed attempts at making a home made Christmas decoration.

"It's part of this, B...Buck," Larabee said as he hung the bell and smiled as the small sound broke the silence of the morning.

"I'm honored, Pard," he said simply as he reached for the next item. Again he smiled as he pulled the tiny red wooden wagon from its resting place.

Chris took the miniature toy and held it in his numbed fingers for several minutes. He remembered how much time this one took and knew each cut had been made with care and love. He saw the tiny scar at the tip of his left index finger, a reminder of the slip he'd made when carving this one. He sucked in a deep breath as he felt the warmth of Sarah's breath on his fingers as she pretended to kiss it better for Adam's sake.

Vin had been watching Larabee closely and saw the tears forming in the sea green eyes.

"Chris?"

"I'm okay, Vin," Larabee assured him as he placed the wagon on the tree below the silver bell.

The next item nearly fell from the scoundrel's numb fingers as he saw the beautiful needlework done by the small hands of Sarah Connelly Larabee.

"Oh, God," he said, tears streaming from his eyes down his cold cheeks. In his hand was a delicate miniature pillow with the names Chris, Sarah, and Adam embroidered on one side, together, now and forever on the opposite. It held as many memories for him as it did for his friend and his fingers trembled as he passed it over and the blond gave it a place of honor on the sapling.

Chris surveyed the tree and knew there was only one more item of his family's life together. The other three he'd made after their deaths and were his memories alone. He watched as Buck pulled out the tiny bird. A symbol of the spirit he'd seen in his wife and son. A dove was a bird that represented love to him, something his mother had told him as a child, and Sarah had proved to him as an adult. He placed the dove at the top of the tree, next to the star and held his chest as he again coughed harshly. He felt two strong sets of hands on his arms and waited for the torture to end.

"Th...thanks," he said as he found the strength he needed to stand on his own two feet. "There should be three more in there, Buck," the blond wheezed, pain emanating from his chest as he felt his lungs constricting from lack of air.

Wilmington again relinquished the ailing man to the tracker as he reached into the bag. He pulled out three figures, and couldn't help but smile. The carvings were of three figures and he knew in his heart they represented Chris, Sarah, and Adam. He smiled as he handed them to the gunslinger, but Chris shook his head.

"You put them on, Buck. Next year those three will be j...joined by six others," the blond said as his strength gave out and he sagged against the sharpshooter. His eyes opened to half-mast and he watched as his long time friend placed the figures just below the dove.

"Love shone on the three of you, Chris," he whispered.

"T...thanks, Buck," Larabee whispered as a shadow flew across the clearing. He looked up and smiled as a dove, pure and pristine white was easily visible against the backdrop of a perfect blue sky.

"I love you, Sarah and Adam, and I..."

"Kept your promise, Chris," Wilmington said as Larabee succumbed to unconsciousness. He held tightly to the gunslinger as their shared memories of Christmas's past ran through his mind, bringing tears to his eyes.

"We need to get going, Buck," Tanner's soft Texan drawl broke through Wilmington's jaunt through the past and he nodded once.

"Yeah, alright, Vin, Let's get him back to the cave while we get the horses ready," the ladies' man suggested. The two men supported the blond between them as they walked back to the cave. Buck glanced one last time over his head as tears slipped from his eyes. The two graves didn't seem so lonely now that the tree sat between the two crosses. He knew in his heart that Sarah and Adam could feel the love Chris Larabee still held for them and he took a deep breath as he turned away from the past. The man in his arms needed him more than his memories and he would make certain he was always there for him.

"Vin," Wilmington said as they entered the cave.

"Yeah."

"You stay with Chris while I get the horses ready."

"Okay," Tanner said, knowing the ladies' man needed some time to himself. He added wood to the fire and sat down, waiting for the older man to lower Larabee's still unresponsive body to him. He lifted the black clad man so that he rested against his own lean chest and pulled a blanket over him. He nodded to Wilmington as the older man left and turned his attention to the flushed face. Larabee's labored breathing bothered him as it reminded him of his mother's illness. He flicked back the stray locks of blond hair and felt the heat rising from his sick friend.

"Ain't gonna let ya go, Chris. Yer 'bout the best friend a man could ask fer and I ain't ready ta give that up..." he grew silent as Wilmington returned for one of the saddles.

It didn't take the moustached man long to saddle the horses and return to the cave. Tanner still cradled the blond against his chest, his arm held protectively around the lean gunslinger.

"How's he doing?"

"Same's he was," Tanner answered worriedly. "Horses ready?"

"Yeah, we'll have ta ride Chris in front of us."

"Reckon." The tracker watched as the scoundrel doused the fire and returned to help get the gunslinger on his feet. A soft moan alerted them that Larabee was waking up.

"Hey, Chris, how're you feeling?" Wilmington asked.

"Chest h...hurts," the blond wheezed past a painfully swollen throat.

"I know it does. Won't be long and we'll have you back in town and Nathan'll be fussing over you," the ladies' man told him.

Larabee nodded, moaning as the movement caused fireworks to explode inside his skull. He was grateful to the two men holding him steady and let his eyes close as they began the journey out of the cave.

"T...tell Nathan... sorry... le...left," the gunslinger muttered.

Tanner didn't like the defeated quality to Larabee's voice and he turned to face the older man.

"Ya can tell him yerself when we get home! I know ya feel lousy, Chris, but ya'll be jest fine once we git ya ta Nathan."

"...okay..." the gunslinger agreed, groaning as another series of coughs left him weak and trembling.

"Vin, pass him up to me," Wilmington said as he mounted the big bay. He could see by Larabee's face the man was ready to protest and stopped him before he could voice his protests.

"Chris, there's no way you'll be able to stay on Pony and if you fall then it'll be even harder for us to get you home. Especially if you break something. Now the boys are waiting for us to get back so we can celebrate Christmas with them. Are you gonna let your stubborn pride make us miss out on all that?"

"I...I...," the blond knew they were right and let the tracker ease him up to the waiting arms of his long time friend. He soon felt a blanket draped over him and a set of strong arms wrapped around him. In spite of his resolve not to be a burden he settled back against the broad chest and let his eyes slide closed once more. He heard the flick of the reins and felt the forward motion of the horse, but the steady movement soon lulled him into a light sleep.

Buck knew they had a long ride ahead of them and they'd have to change horses from time to time, but there was little doubt that they'd make it back to Four Corners before the day was over. He glanced sideways at Tanner and knew the younger man felt the same way. Larabee was in desperate need of Jackson's care or they'd have remained holed up in the cave.

The saloon was crowded with townspeople waiting for the three peacekeepers to return. Plates of food sat in front of them, some picked at, others untouched as snow began to fall once more. Darkness had been on them for several hours and worry continued to show on each face. Four men sat at the back of the saloon, the meals in front of them virtually untouched as they listened to Inez and Gloria Potter singing Silent Night. Their voices rose above the mutterings and soon the entire saloon had joined them in the song.

The storm that had died out earlier had come upon them with a vengeance as they rode through the end of the day. Swirling snow made it a maelstrom of white images as the three men fought to make it home. Darkness had come upon them and Buck Wilmington wondered how the younger man was able to keep them on the trail. It was a gift they'd all seen him use before, but never when it meant so much. Larabee's life depended on getting him home and out of the cold. There was no one else the ladies' man trusted to do that job.

Get us home, Vin, he thought as he pulled his coat tighter around his body.

Chris lifted his head from the tracker's chest as a new sound met his ears. He remembered stopping several times during the long ride as the two men moved him from one horse to another. Although unclear how many times they made the exchange, he remembered the care they'd taken each time. They made him drink water, forcing it past his lips as he struggled to get it down the raw path of his throat. His eyes opened, but refused to focus as the dark world around him swirled in a kaleidoscope of bright lights. He swallowed painfully as the sound again reached his ears and a smile formed on his face as the warmth of the voices reached him. He struggled to sit further up in the saddle, but his depleted energy made it a fight he was bound to lose.

"Easy, Chris, jest lie back against me," the Texan ordered.

"I...I hear them, Vin. Voices... singing..."

"They sure are, Pard, we're almost home," Tanner whispered, his breath visible in the cold air.

"H...home...good...cc...cold."

"Reckon ya are, but we'll get ya warmed up real soon."

"How is he, V...Vin?" Wilmington asked, his teeth chattering.

"Cccold, B...Buck," Larabee wheezed, his voice making it painfully obvious how sick he was.

"We're nearly home, pard. We'll get you up to Nathan's and make sure he's got lots of blankets and something warm for you to drink," Wilmington explained as they made their way towards the livery and Jackson's clinic.

"Sounds like the whole town is at the saloon, Buck," the tracker observed as the voices seemed to grow louder.

"Think Nathan's there?"

"More'n likely. It's bound ta be a lot warmer there and that's what Chris needs right now."

"A...all n...need, Vin," the gunslinger stammered through chattering teeth.

"Reckon it is, Cowboy," the sharpshooter said as he turned Pony towards the saloon. He'd changed over to Larabee's horse during the last exchange and the big animal seemed to sense the need for speed. Now the dark horse sensed the end of their journey as he whinnied softly into the swirling snow.

Nathan listened to the townspeople singing the final chorus of Silent Night as he made his way to the window. The batwing doors had been boarded up to keep the snow and wind out and he tried to see past the blanket of whiteness outside the pane of glass. The town, while unprepared for the freak snowstorm, banded together to keep warm. Mary Travis usually took charge of things, but she'd decided to spend Christmas with her son and in-laws. She'd be gone for a month and Jackson knew she'd be bringing her son back with her. Gloria Potter and Inez had stepped in and enlisted the aid of the ladies of Four Corners to bring food and supplies to the saloon. The hotel had been their first choice, but several of the windows had been shattered by flying debris as the wind blew with a vengeance. So now twenty-seven people were huddled in the saloon, taking advantage of the added warmth of friendship and song. The back room had been set up to provide sleeping quarters for the children and the door stood open so the heat of the fire kept them comfortable.

"They'll be okay, Brother."

Jackson turned from the window when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder. He smiled at the man he considered his closest friend and took a deep breath.

"I hope so, Josiah."

"Nathan, remember what today is and have faith in the miracle of the season. Christ was born on a night like this and that was the greatest miracle of them all, but since then this day has seen many other miracles and I do believe we will see one ourselves before the day is over. Now, why don't you come join us? Inez just made some of her famous cider."

"You go ahead, Josiah. I'll be there in a minute."

"Alright, Nathan, but don't be too long. Inez's cider tends to disappear pretty fast."

Jackson turned back to the window as the townspeople began another carol. He took a deep breath and was about to join the others when something shifted in the white blanket outside the window. He leaned closer and wiped the condensation from the glass as the shapes began to solidify. Three horses took shape outside the saloon and he turned towards the door.

"It's them!" he shouted as he started pulling at the boards. He heard the frenzied movement behind him as the carol halted and people rushed to his aid. They heard movement on the opposite side and soon had one of the doors uncovered. The sight that met their eyes knocked the breaths from their lungs as two snow covered men supported a third into the room.

"Thank God," Gloria Potter's voice was heard to say, and a chorus of Amen's quickly followed.

"Nathan, C...Chris's pretty s...sick," Tanner mumbled tiredly as the doors were quickly boarded up once more.

"Let Josiah and Ezra take him. JD, Charlie, you boys get Buck and Vin over by the fire. Inez, can you get them something warm to drink?"

"Right away, Senor," the young woman called as she turned her attention to the pot of stew sitting at the back of the stove.

Tiny watched as Sanchez and Standish supported the gunslinger and Dunne and Charlie Morgan helped the two shivering peacekeepers to the fire.

"Connor, you and Mike gimme a hand ta get the horses to the livery!" Tiny moved to the window and forced it open, climbing out into the cold. He waited outside for the two men to join him and closed the window behind him.

Jackson took a look at the two men as Dunne helped Wilmington out of his frozen coat and boots. He could see Charlie doing the same to the trembling form of the tracker and knew they were in good hands. He quickly turned his attention to the gunslinger as Jack Peterson and Tom Wilson, who was caught in town with his family when the storm hit, brought a cot close to the fire. Martha Wilson quickly placed a blanket over it and grabbed a pillow off the pile in the corner.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Jackson said. "Okay, Josiah, Ezra, just sit him on the edge and let's get him outta those wet clothes."

"N...no. N...Na...Na..." he couldn't find the air to get the man's name out and felt the helplessness as Martha Wilson knelt before him.

"Now you listen to me, Chris Larabee. You're sick right now and ya ain't got the strength ta fight us. I know how modest ya are and we ladies will move away and let the men get ya settled, but once you're lying down you'll have no choice but to let us look after you! Okay?"

"...okay..." Larabee wheezed past his tortured throat. His eyes showed the woman how grateful he was and he tried to take a deep breath as the women moved away. He looked up at the former slave and felt regret stab through him, cutting deep into his soul at the worry he saw there. He forced his right arm up and placed his hand on Jackson's.

"I...I'm s...sorry, Na...than...Didn't me...mean to br...break my wo...word to y...you."

"Right now you need to relax, Chris, but as soon as you're up to it you and I are gonna have us a real long talk. Understand?"

Larabee smiled as he saw the softness in the eyes. He knew Jackson would give him hell, but the man would wait until he understood what was being said. He lifted his head and met five other sets of eyes and saw the promise in those as well.

"Let's get you out of these things," Jackson said as he eased the duster off the shivering shoulders. He looked at Ezra as the gambler looked at him fearfully. He shook his head, hoping the younger man understood now was not the time to talk.

"Josiah, you and Ezra get him undressed and under those blankets. I'm gonna see if Martha can make him one of her mustard plasters."

"D...damn," Larabee hissed as his arms were eased from the dark shirt he wore.

"I don't envy you, Mr. Larabee," the gambler told him.

"T...thanks, E...Ez...maybe y...you could l...let Nathan p...put it on y...you."

"Ah, I would volunteer for such an undertaking, but I'm afraid that would not help you feel better."

"Y...yeah...i...it...would..." the blond wheezed.

Standish smiled as he eased Larabee's boots from his feet. The socks were wet and cold as they joined the boots on the floor. The ex-preacher lifted Larabee up and the dark pants soon joined the other clothing beside the cot.

Chris moaned as the room spun around him. His lungs seemed to be fighting to draw air through his painfully constricted throat. He felt chilled to the bone as the two men eased him down on the bed. Immediately he found it harder to draw a breath and soon felt his body lifted upwards and two more pillows joined the others.

"Easy, Chris, just relax and breathe easy."

"Try...trying, N...Nathan...Chest hurts..."

"I know it does, Chris." The healer took his stethoscope from his bag and listened to Larabee's lungs. He knew the man was dangerously close to pneumonia... or worse he was showing the first signs of it. The heavy wheeze, the painful cough, the raspy whisper of the usually strong voice, all indicated a lengthy recovery period for the blond. He used his long fingers to gently probe the corded neck, frowning as he felt the swollen glands. His mind wandered back to Sanchez's words about this being a day of miracles and realized they'd need one now in order to keep their friend with them.

"Nathan, I've got some willow bark tea steeped," Gloria said as she placed the cup on the table beside Larabee's bed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," Jackson said as he felt the heat rising from the lean form on the bed. Larabee shivered under the blankets and the healer knew they needed to get the fever down before it sapped whatever strength the gunman had left.

"Chris, I need you to drink a little of this. It'll help with the fever."

"...okay..." the blond answered as the cup was placed to his lips. He sipped the bitter brew, feeling the heat slide past his ravaged throat and begin to warm him from the inside out. All too soon he felt his rebellious stomach churning and turned away from the offering.

"Chris..."

"S...sorry... Nathan... fff...feel s...sick," the blond explained.

"Okay, just close your eyes and rest. We'll try again in a little while."

"Nathan... tell everyone...sorry..."

"Sorry for what, Chris?" the healer asked, feeling the others standing beside him, watching their leader struggle to speak.

"Ruined Christmas for all o...of y...you..."

"Now, Brother, that's just not so. Christmas is a celebration of family and life and we have an abundance of those. Right now you need to lie still and let Nathan help you get well. We'll all celebrate as soon as he allows you to make a toast with us. But, Chris..."

"W...what?"

"I wouldn't expect that to be anytime soon. I have a feeling Nathan is gonna keep you under wraps for some time to come," Sanchez explained seriously.

"You've got that right, Josiah. Now, Buck, Vin, you two need to go lie down before you fall down. There's extra cots in the room with the kids..."

"Nathan..."

"No arguments, Buck! You and Vin got him this far! Now you need to let the rest of us make sure he gets well."

"But..."

"Vin, go, or I'll set the ladies to make sure you fall asleep... Understood?"

Tanner heard the threat and knew the healer meant what he said. He'd been the recipient of one of Nathan's drugged sleeps before and didn't want to find himself in that state again.

"You'll..."

"I'll wake you both if there's any change. Now get. Mrs. Potter, Martha, would you two make sure they go straight to bed and stay there."

"I think Martha and I can handle these two," the older woman said with a smile.

"Ya heard the man. Ta bed with the two of ya!" Martha Wilson ordered, her voice brooked no argument as she led the way to the other room.

Vin looked down at the blond as he passed and knew the older man was fighting to stay awake.

I'll be back, Cowboy, he sent through the silent connection, glad to see understanding in the sick man's fever bright eyes.

Thanks, Cowboy, the gunslinger sent back. He watched as the two men were led away and turned his attention back to the healer as the former slave touched his forehead.

"We need to get that fever down, Chris. JD, go get me some water. Make sure it's not too cold," the former slave ordered.

"Sure, Nathan," the kid agreed as he hurried to do the healer's bidding.

Nathan felt something cold at his back and looked over his shoulder to see Tiny and the others climb back through the window. He was relieved to see the men had returned and the storm could be kept outside where it belonged.

"Chris, think you could try a bit more tea now?"

"T...try..." Larabee said and again took small sips of the willow bark tea. He turned away and took a deep breath, wincing at the tightness in his chest.

"Ezra, can you see if the mustard plaster is ready?"

"Certainly, Mr. Jackson," the gambler said and moved towards the bar.

Jackson saw Larabee's eyes open and glare at him. He knew the blond had been forced to endure this type of treatment before, but it didn't make it any easier. The smell alone was bad enough, but the burning sensation on his skin was also uncomfortable.

"Chris, you need this to help you breathe easier..."

"H...hate that s...shit..."

"I heard that Chris!"

Larabee couldn't help but smile at the familiar voice of Martha Wilson. Somehow the woman always seemed to hear him when he used profanity. He met her warm gaze and knew she wasn't upset with him, but he apologized instantly.

"S...sorry, Martha."

"Thank you. Nathan, the mustard plaster is ready when you are."

"Ah, Shi...shoot," the blond grumbled painfully.

"Will you bring it here, Martha?" the healer asked.

"Indeed I will," the woman said. "Oh, Inez is also making him an home made cough remedy."

"D...damn," the blond wheezed as he closed his eyes once more.

Nathan continued to watch the slow rise and fall of the man's chest. The raspy wheeze continued to fill him with dread and he vowed to do everything in his power to make sure Chris Larabee recovered from this illness. He looked up as once more a strong hand landed on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Josiah," he whispered of the gesture.

"He's gonna be just fine, Nathan. It may take some time, but I'm sure he'll be arguing with you before you know it," the ex-preacher said.

I hope so, Josiah, he thought as Martha returned with the medication. The gambler following closely behind.

"Here you are, Nathan," the woman said, her eyes wandering to the ill gunslinger. "How is he?"

"About the same. Fever's sapping his strength and his lungs are full of congestion. It's a miracle he's able to breath at all," the healer said. He wanted to prepare the others for the distinct possibility that Chris Larabee, a man they'd known such a short time, might not make it through the night.

"Nathan, it is the season of miracles and the good Lord willin' we'll see Chris Larabee beat this one. You said he's a damn stubborn fighter..."

"Martha..."

The woman turned to her husband, a small smile on her face. "Well, he did, Tom, and Chris proved how stubborn he was when they brought him to our place after that man shot him. If Chris is meant to live then he will and I don't think it's his time yet. Now, Nathan, let's see what we can do about making our own miracle tonight!"

Jackson nodded and took the cloth she'd already prepared. He turned to the ex-preacher as Dunne returned with the water and linen.

"Alright, Josiah, pull back the blankets for me," the healer ordered, pushing back his own fears as he watched the shallow breaths the gunman was taking.

Sanchez pulled back the blankets and watched as Jackson quickly placed the cloth against Larabee's chest. The gunman's nose wrinkled as the foul smelling stuff hit his nostrils and he lifted his arms to push it away.

"Leave it alone, Chris," Jackson said as he grabbed Larabee's hands, amazed at how weak the blond's struggles were.

"B...burns...smells...b...bad..."

"I know it does, but you need it right now," the healer told him, as the sea green eyes opened and focused on him.

"See if he'll drink this, Senor Jackson," Inez said as she joined the growing group around Larabee's bed. "I made it from Osha roots."

"Thanks, Inez, Chris this should help your throat," the former slave said, placing the cup in front of the slack lips. He watched as Larabee sipped at the soothing syrup and turned a grateful smile on the Mexican woman.

Chris drank the liquid and reached for the cloth on his chest. He turned a patented glare on the gambler as his hands were caught and held.

"I'm afraid that glare lacks its usual strength, Mr. Larabee, but I shall remind you that you owe me one when you're back to yourself."

"W...won't n...need...remindin'," the blond whispered as he felt the draw of sleep once more. He felt the familiar signs of another attack and turned a pained look towards the healer.

"Sit him up a little more!" Jackson ordered as he listened to the strangled sounds emanating from the swollen throat. "Easy, Chris, just take slow breaths. Don't fight that cough! It'll help get some of that crud off your lungs!"

"H...hurts..." the blond mumbled as the first of the harsh sounds escaped his throat. He felt Josiah's strong arms holding him as he was lifted forward. Over and over he coughed, spitting the mucus from his mouth as Jackson held a basin in front of him. He moaned softly as the attack eased and he was again lowered to the pillows. He heard worried voices around him, but didn't have the strength to tell them he was okay. His chest hurt, but he found it easier to breathe. He smiled as two faces invaded his dreams, the ones he'd longed to see since they'd been taken from him.

"S...Sarah...Adam...d...don't g...go..."

Men and women alike heard his soft plea and glanced at each other. In his fevered dreams he was seeing his family, and they prayed he wouldn't give into his desire to be with them.

The storm ended just after one the following afternoon and people looked out at the snow-covered town they called home. Most of them made the slow trek to their homes while the six peacekeepers kept watch over the fevered man. The Wilson's stayed to help, while Gloria Potter took her children and returned to their house. Tiny checked the horses and made sure they had enough feed and water before taking to his own bed. Late that evening they transferred Chris out of the saloon. He was bundled in blankets and carried by his six friends up to Jackson's clinic where JD Dunne had already started the fire in the stove. The heat quickly spread throughout the clinic as the men hurried inside and placed the sleeping man on the bed.

Through the long days and nights that followed, the battle to save Chris Larabee's life continued. The fever intensified to the point where the blankets needed to be changed on the bed and the pillows. He was never left alone, and someone always held him when his eyes grew wide and signaled another attack was about to begin. They soothed him with soft words and gentle touches when he cried out for his family. During the worst of the fever induced illusions and nightmares nothing worked to calm the blond. JD sported a black eye, delivered by Larabee's right fist when he tried to hold the gunslinger on the bed. The six men were exhausted, but no man was willing to give up on the care of their friend. Martha Wilson continued to make the mustard plasters that were placed on Larabee's chest or back. Gloria and Inez delivered coffee and meals to the clinic for whoever was watching over the sick man. Yosemite organized the men of Four Corners and they took over peacekeeping duties while Larabee's friends tended to him.

Vin sat beside the bed, watching the blond who lay still under several layers of blankets. They'd finally convinced Jackson to get some much needed rest, but only after swearing they'd wake him if there was any change at all. The Texan watched as the eyelids fluttered and the eyes slowly turned towards him. He reached for the cup of warm liquid on the table beside him and held it to the blond's lips, watching as he painfully swallowed the offering.

Chris took as much of the liquid as he could, before turning away and trying to speak. "E...nough..."

"Alright. How're ya feelin'?"

"S...still cold...d...don't think I'll e...ver be warm a...gain."

"Sure ya will. Seems like yer fever's finally startin' ta come down," the tracker explained.

"H...how long...I b...been out?"

"Three days. We got back here on Christmas day... you've been out of it most of the time."

"Three d...days," Larabee moaned and tried to sit up.

"You'd best lie still. Nathan'll have yer hide if'n ya try ta get outta that bed..."

"Damn right he will," the two men looked up as the healer threw back the blankets and sat up. He rubbed at still tired eyes before walking the short distance to the sick man.

Vin stood up and moved away to allow the healer to sit beside the ill man's bed. He watched the healer place his hand on Larabee's forehead before reaching for his stethoscope.

"Chris, I need to sit you up a bit more, just let Vin help you," the former slave said as the tracker moved in to help the sick man sit further up in the bed.

Larabee felt as weak as a newborn kitten as the younger man helped him sit up. He took shallow breaths in an effort to stop the spurt of coughing he felt coming on, but was unable to prevent the full blown attack. He felt the tracker's hands massage his shoulders as he leaned forward. He heard Jackson talking to him, but his concentration was on the pain in his chest and throat as he worked to expel the mucus from his lungs. Over and over the painful sounds escaped him as the two men tried to sooth his pain. His energy spent he lay back against the pillow, moisture evident in his eyes as the bout finally subsided.

"Chris, I need you to drink..."

"W...what i...is it," Larabee moaned before the healer finished.

"A little Osha tea. It'll help your throat and ease that cough. Sit him up a little, Vin," Jackson ordered as he hurried to the stove and poured a small amount of the warm liquid into a cup. He returned to the bed and the pale blond.

"H...hate that s...shit," Larabee wheezed as the cup was held to his mouth. He grimaced as the taste hit him and tried to turn away.

"Chris, you need it..."

"I...I'm trying, N...Nathan...tired..."

"I know you are, there's just a little more. Finish this and we'll let you rest."

"...okay..." Larabee said and turned his head back to the healer. He finished the small amount of liquid and again his face turned up at the taste and the queasiness it caused in his stomach.

"Alright, Vin, ease him back down. I'm gonna get another..."

"No..."

"No what, Cowboy?" Tanner asked softly.

"N...no more of that s...shit or mus...tard...plas...ter," the blond told him.

"Chris, remember that talk we had?"

"T...talk?"

"About ya doin' everythin' Nathan says..."

"N...not fair, Vin. N...never thought you'd b...blackmail," Larabee hissed as his eyes closed.

"Not blackmail, Pard, just remindin' ya of yer promise."

"W...will keep pro...mise," the blond whispered through his ravaged throat, his eyes closing as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"He's sleeping, Vin, that's what he needs now. It's better than any medicines I can give him," Jackson told the worried tracker.

"Will he be okay, Nathan?"

"I think so. His fever's come down a lot and in spite of the heavy wheeze his breathing seems a little less labored. Now about this blackmail or promise..."

"He said if'n we helped him put up a little tree between Sarah and Adam's grave he'd do anything ya said in order ta get well."

"Ah, so I can keep him in this bed until I think he's ready to get out of it," the healer said with a smile.

"I wouldn't try ta keep him down too long, Nathan. Ya might end up with a coiled rattler ready ta strike," the Texan drawled softly.

"Yeah, I 'spect you're right about that, but at least he'll stay here 'til I'm sure he's strong enough to be on his own. Why don't you go on over to the saloon and get something to eat... maybe get Inez to make up one of those broths of hers for Chris?"

"Ya want me ta bring ya back somethin'?"

"One of those tortillas and a coffee." Jackson turned his attention back to his patient and again touched the forehead. Larabee was cooler, but the fever was still present, and the wheezing signaled the man was far from well. He eased the blankets up over the chest and sat back in his chair. He hated when these men were sick. Most of the time his friends thought it was because of their stubbornness and arguments about being in the clinic, but that was wrong. He hated it because they were his friends, the people who meant the most to him. His emotions always ran high when he treated patients, but even more so when these men relied on his hands to heal them. No matter how often he treated them and watched them walk away, he still felt inadequate. Turning away from the bed he picked up the cup and stood up, wincing as his muscles protested loudly.

"T...thanks, N...Nathan."

Jackson turned back to see the sea green eyes gazing at him from under half mast lids. He nodded and smiled as he realized these men were more than confident in his abilities.

"You're welcome, Chris, now close those eyes and get some sleep."

"...okay...but n...no broth..."

"That's about all you'll be able to handle for a few days."

"D...damn...ra...ther have..."

"No tortillas."

"S...shit..."

The healer watched as the eyes closed once more. "Goodnight, Chris."

"...night..." the blond's voice was weak as he turned slightly on his right side and drifted towards sleep.

He heard the worry in their voices and struggled through the thick fog surrounding him. He wanted to ease their minds, but the energy needed to open his eyes was beyond his ability for now. He felt a cool cloth placed on his forehead and moaned as it touched his heated skin.

"Just lie still, Chris, you're gonna be fine..."

"J...Jo...siah," the blond rasped.

"That's right, Son. How do you feel?"

"I...I'm...o..."

"No, you're not, Pard..."

Larabee finally forced his eyes open and turned slightly towards the voice beside him.

"Buck...what hap...happened..."

"Chris, you had a relapse, but I think you're gonna start getting better now," Jackson said, as Wilmington relinquished the chair beside Larabee's bed.

"S...sorry..."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Son. You just need to lie there and let Nathan help you get better," the ex-preacher warned.

"T...thanks...Josiah," Larabee said as he moved on the bed. His arms and legs felt weighed down as he shifted his body. He smiled gratefully as Jackson and Sanchez helped him sit up a little further.

Jackson touched the pale forehead, pleased to find it cooler than the last few time he checked. He used the stethoscope to listen to the sick man's lungs once more. Satisfied that things seemed to be turning around he sat back in the chair and smiled tiredly.

"Well, it seems like you've finally turned the corner..."

"How lo...long th...this time?"

"You've been out of it for two days..."

"Two days...tomor...row's..."

"New Years Eve and don't even think about making any trips except maybe to the commode. You're not to get out of that bed unless I tell you too. Understood?" the healer asked. His voice held a hint of promise that things would go a lot better for Chris Larabee if he stayed where he was.

"Damn..."

"Understood?" Jackson asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"I...I'll..."

"Understood?" the healer interrupted again.

"Nathan..."

"I think you'd better answer him, Stud!" Wilmington warned of the look on the former slave's face.

"Un...der...stood," the blond wheezed sheepishly, his strength just about gone once more.

"Good, Now that we understand each other, Chris, I've got some things for you to drink."

"D...don't want none o...of th...that sh...shit..."

"Now you listen here, Chris Larabee. For the next week you're gonna lie in that damn bed and eat and drink anything I tell you too including that shit! We're all tired and if you hold to the promise you made to Vin and Buck then just maybe the rest of us can get some sleep. Now, drink the tea Josiah's holding and I'll get you some of the broth Inez made for you. Understood?"

"S...shit...yeah...okay..." the blond stammered as he sipped the bitter brew Sanchez held before his mouth.

He finished what was in the cup and closed his eyes. He knew his friends were worried about him, but he didn't have the energy to ease their minds. He soon smelled something new placed before him and knew Jackson had returned with the broth.

"Alright, Chris, one more thing to drink and then you can sleep again," the healer explained and was relieved when Larabee drank the flavorful broth.

Chris felt the cup removed and a warm cloth washed over his face as he sank towards a healing sleep. He sighed heavily as the blankets were lifted over him and someone patted his arm. The last words he heard before he gave into the call of sleep came from Nathan Jackson and he smiled inwardly.

"You know it'd be a lot easier if I could find something to blackmail all of you with." The healer sat beside the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He rubbed tiredly at his blood shot eyes and looked at the cot across the room.

"Go on and get some rest, Nathan. You said yourself he's turned the corner," the ladies' man said.

Jackson nodded and stood up. He felt Wilmington and Sanchez watching him and realized just how tired he was. The last five days saw him get very little sleep as he tried to rid the gunslinger of the raging fever and the real possibility that he was developing pneumonia. Now that the crisis seemed to have passed his body was protesting his neglect and he sank down onto the cot. His eyes closed, but snapped open as he felt the blanket pulled up over him.

"Thanks, Buck," he mumbled as he dropped off to sleep.

"You're welcome, Nate," the scoundrel said as he turned back to the second bed. The blond was still pale, but his breathing didn't seem as harsh and the beads of perspiration were no longer evident on his forehead. He watched as the ex-preacher closed his eyes and knew the older man was saying a prayer. He closed his eyes and said his own prayer of thanks before returning to the seat across from Sanchez.

It was nearly twenty-four hours later when Larabee's eyes opened and focused on the man sitting beside the bed. Vin's eyes were closed and his head was tilted to the side, soft sounds emanating from the partially open mouth. Chris shifted on the bed, trying not to wake the sleeping man as he reached for the glass on the table. His throat was sore and dry and he needed something to ease the arid feeling in his mouth. His fingers fumbled with the slippery surface and he swore as a small amount of the liquid spilled onto his trembling fingers.

"Let me help ya."

Larabee accepted the help gratefully as the glass was placed in front of his mouth. He drank several sips and eased away from it as he met the tracker's worried gaze.

"I'm okay, Vin," he whispered.

"Ya sure as hell look better," the sharpshooter agreed.

"Thanks...I think," Larabee said, smiling thinly as he struggled to sit further up in the bed. He was grateful when the younger man helped him sit up. By the time he was leaning back against the pillows his breathing had a heavy wheeze to it once more.

"Shit, wish I didn't feel so damn weak."

"You'll probably feel like that fer a while yet. Nathan says yer gonna need ta build up yer strength..." he was interrupted by the door of the clinic opening and Jackson stepping through the door. The healer had a heavily laden tray in his arms and he placed it on the table before checking on his patient.

"How are you feeling, Chris?"

"Tired...weak."

"I'm afraid you'll feel like that for some time yet. You're gonna need to..."

"Build up my strength," Larabee finished.

"That's right, but you'll also need to take it easy. Your lungs are weak right now and you'll probably be short of breath..."

"Am now..."

"I can see that. Just lie back and concentrate on breathing. Take deep breaths if you can."

"...okay..."

"I've got something for you to eat..."

"Don't you mean drink?" Larabee asked as he looked disgustedly at the covered bowl on the tray.

"No, I mean eat. Inez made a stew that I think you'll be able to handle. Think you can feed yourself or do..."

"Nathan, you'd better not finish that question," the blond said, his eyes belying the threat in his words.

"Okay," the healer laughed. "Vin, put a couple of more pillows behind him and we'll see if we can get the stubborn cuss to eat without spilling it all over himself."

Chris accepted the help and was soon sitting up on the bed with a tray placed on his lap. He picked up his spoon with trembling hands and took the first sweet taste of the savory stew. He sighed contentedly as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the semi-solid meal.

"I'd say he's enjoyin' it. Wouldn't ya say so, Nate?"

"From the look on his face I'd have to agree with you," Jackson said as he watched the green eyes open again.

"It's good," Larabee said as he took another spoonful. By the time he'd finished half the bowl his energy level was nil and he was fighting to keep from having another coughing attack. He felt the tray removed as he lost the battle and was again held upright by his two friends. He didn't feel them ease him back on the bed, or a warm cloth being wiped over his face. His eyes closed as he sank into a deep sleep, one where he didn't have to fight to get air to enter his lungs.

"Nathan?" Tanner asked worriedly.

"He's okay, Vin, just sleeping. He'll probably have more of these before he's done, but I think he's over the worst of it. We need to let him sleep, eat, rest and keep him warm," the healer explained. "Now I've got to go out to the Carter place and check on Joseph. Think you boys can keep him in that bed while I'm gone?"

The tracker smiled as he stood up and reached for the pot of coffee on the back of the stove.

"We can handle the stubborn cuss," he said as he dumped three spoons of sugar into the strong coffee.

"Alright, you let the others know what he needs and I'll be back sometime tomorrow."

"Ya need some company?"

"To ride out to the Carter place? No, I think I can handle the boy," Jackson said as he gathered up the items he needed and left the clinic.

New Year's day dawned bright and clear for the people of Four Corners. The storm that ripped through the area during Christmas was in the past, the snow having melted with the heat of a newborn sun. The five peacekeepers still in town were in the clinic, whispering silently as they watched over the sleeping man. They were all relieved to see the blond recovering, and were surprised that he wasn't arguing about staying in bed.

Jackson returned from the Carter farm shortly after noon and hurried to the clinic. He smiled as he saw the five men hovering over Chris Larabee. In the short time they'd known each other the group of seven had become more than friends, and for that he gave thanks once more.

"How's he doing?" the healer asked as he dropped his coat over a chair and made his way to the bed.

"He'll be do...doing fine if y...you'd let him out of b...bed," Larabee wheezed through a throat ravaged by coughing and dryness.

"Ah, I knew it wouldn't last long," Jackson quipped.

"Sure it will, Nate," Wilmington interrupted. "Ol' Chris here is gonna stay in that bed until you say he can get up. Ain't that right, Pard?"

"T...tired of lying h...here..."

"Chris, we had a deal..."

"Damn, Vin," Larabee said, turning a weak glare on the tracker.

"Never thought you'd go back on your word, Stud," the ladies' man said, smiling as Larabee's glare was turned in his direction.

"Not g...going back on m...my w...word. Still here aren't I?"

"That you are, Son," Sanchez said.

"Mr. Larabee, it looks like your word is as honorable as it always was," Standish said.

Jackson listened to his patient's lungs and placed the stethoscope back in his bag.

"How's the Carter boy?" Dunne asked as Jackson felt Larabee's forehead.

"He's going to be fine. Kid's up and around..."

"Already?" Dunne asked incredulously.

"Yep, his father made him a pair of crutches and he's already moving around on them," the healer answered.

"Shit, Nathan, the kid's got a bro...broken leg and he's up and around. Why t...the he...hell do I h...have to stay in b...bed?"

"Well, Chris, the kid didn't go running off in the middle of the night when he was told to stay in bed and rest. The kid doesn't have problems speaking because his lungs are weak and full of crud. The kid isn't a stubborn..."

"Okay, I get t...the po...point," Larabee hissed as the others tried to hide their laughter.

"The kid didn't give his word..."

"Nathan!" Larabee folded his arms across his chest and glared at the former slave.

"Well, Chris, if you'd have listened in the first place..."

"I'm not go...going any...anywhere, Nathan," the blond said, his voice sounded low and defeated as his overtaxed body protested the effort it took to speak.

"Well, now, I'm gonna have to figure out a way to make this work on all of you," Jackson said as he watched the gunslinger settle under the blankets.

"Make what work, Nathan?" the young Bostonian asked.

"Whatever Buck and Vin used to make Chris so agreeable. It'd be a whole lot simpler if all I had to do was take care of you boys without having to chase you around to do it."

"It'd also be pretty boring, Nathan," the ladies' man said with a grin.

"Sometimes boring is a good thing, Buck," the healer said softly as Larabee's breathing eased off and he fell back to sleep.

"We'll try to remember that, Brother, maybe we could make it a New Year's resolution," Sanchez said.

"I'd rather you all made it a resolution not to get hurt," the former slave said seriously.

"I for one shall endeavor to keep that resolution," the gambler told them.

"I think we all will," Tanner agreed.

"Well, I'm betting Inez is cooking up one hell of a meal and I think she just might need someone to sample her..."

"Buck!" Dunne said, blushing as he thought he knew what the ladies' man was going to say.

"Sample her pies, JD. What the hell did you think I was going to say?" Wilmington asked, slapping the kid on the shoulder as he left the clinic. The others followed closely behind, leaving the healer and the tracker to watch over the still weak man.

"Vin, why don't you go on down and join the others for dinner?" the healer asked.

"Nah, it's okay, Nathan, you go on. I'll stay here and keep an eye on Chris."

"Why d...don't you b...both go eat? I'm not going any...where," the blond assured them.

"Thought you were sleeping, Cowboy," Tanner said as he met Larabee's gaze.

"Not quite...go on... the two of y...you. I'll stay w...where I am," the gunslinger said. He didn't miss the look that passed between his two friends and he knew they were unsure about leaving him alone.

"There's no reason the two of you should miss dinner."

"What if you need something?" Jackson asked.

"Leave my gun by the bed and if I need you that bad...ly I'll shoot the d...damn win...dow out," Larabee said with a grin.

"You sure 'bout this, Chris?" the sharpshooter asked.

"Y...yeah, I'll be fine. Just go on."

"Alright, we'll be back shortly," the healer assured him.

"Don't hurry. Take some time and enjoy yourselves. I...I'm ju...just gonna g...go back to sleep."

"Back soon, Chris."

"Thanks, Vin," the blond said as he watched the two men leave. He lay back against the pillows and listened to the sounds of the celebration seeping through the closed windows. He knew he'd done the right thing by sending Vin and Nathan off with the others, yet he couldn't help feeling a little let down that they'd gone, leaving alone on the first day of the new year. It reminded him too much of the dark days and months that followed the loss of his family. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to overtake him, but in spite of his exhaustion sleep was elusive to him.

Chris remembered the night Adam was born and the love he'd felt inside him. A love that surpassed the boundaries of life and death and still had a stranglehold on his heart, and he prayed it would stay that way. He turned slightly on his side and gazed out the window at the bright blue sky overhead. He felt himself drifting and had no idea how much time passed when he heard a commotion on the landing outside the clinic. He forced his arms to hold his body up as the door opened and six men barged in.

"Hey, Stud, did you really think we'd leave you up here all alone?" Wilmington asked.

"Yeah, Chris we figured you'd need something to eat. Inez made this real special for you," Dunne said.

Tanner eased his lean frame onto the chair next to the bed as Jackson set up the tray on Larabee's lap. The tracker smiled as the gunslinger looked around the room, knowing they'd made the right decision to bring the New Year's celebration to Larabee. The look on the blond's face as he met each man's gaze was one of rapture as he realized he wasn't alone.

"Mr. Larabee, I do believe the meal would be most enjoyable if eaten while still hot," the gambler told him as he lifted the fork and placed it in Larabee's hand.

"T...thanks, Boys," the gunmen said, his voice filled with gratitude as his six friends settled down with their own meals.

"Anytime, Cowboy," Tanner answered for the others.

Sanchez said a few words of thanks before the men ate, and Chris felt better than he'd felt in a long time.

Home and family, that's what life is about, Larabee thought as he dipped his fork in the mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.

The seven friends talked and joked through the rest of the day and long into the night. The recovering man drifted in and out of sleep, content in the knowledge that he wasn't alone, and never would be again.

Larabee spent most of the following week in bed. He kept his word and stayed in the bed until Jackson finally grew tired of the blond's seeming lack of fight. He knew the gunslinger was getting better, but he also missed the arguments that usually went with having one of his friends staying in the clinic.

Taking a deep breath he smiled at the still pale man. "Well, Chris, what do you say we get you out of that bed and back to your own room?"

"R...really," the blond wheezed, excitement evident in his voice.

"Yeah, figure it's time I got my own bed back. Now this doesn't mean you can go off on your own. I want you staying close to town for at least another week and if you do want to go out to your place, make sure someone's with you."

"But..."

"I know you're feeling better, Chris, but when we're dealing with your lungs we need to be careful. You're still weak and it's gonna be a while yet before you're completely healed. Now, if you're gonna argue I guess I can sleep on that damn cot for a few more nights."

"N...no. I'm not arguing," the blond said as he sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed.

"Didn't think so. Okay, Vin and Buck will be here in a minute to take you to your room. If you need anything at all you know where I am."

The blond swallowed painfully and nodded, knowing the one thing they could all count on was Nathan Jackson being there when they needed him. Sometimes the just forgot to let him know they knew and understood what it meant to have him as a friend and doctor.

By the time Chris was settled in his room, he again understood just what his illness had taken out of him. He trembled as he eased down on the bed and closed his eyes, drifting into a light sleep as he felt the blankets pulled up over him once more.

When next he opened his eyes the room was bathed in a light glow from the lamp on the table across the room. He could see Buck Wilmington staring at something in his hands and he frowned as he saw the evidence of moisture on the other man's face.

"Buck, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, surprised when the ladies' man tried to hide what he'd been holding onto so tightly.

"C...Chris," the scoundrel stammered in surprise. He hid the carving behind the lamp and hurried over to his friend.

"What's going on, Buck?" the gunslinger asked, his voice stronger as he looked at his friend.

"There's nothin' wrong, Chris, I was just..."

"What were you hiding?"

Wilmington looked down at the floor and then over at the table before finally letting his gaze come to rest on his long time friend.

"I... Chris... I found..." his voice trailed off and he tried to find enough saliva to speak.

"Found what?" the blond asked as he turned his gaze towards the table and stood up.

"Just hang on a minute, Chris. Sit down!" Wilmington ordered.

"What is it, Buck?"

"Sit down and I'll tell ya," the scoundrel waited until his friend was seated beside him once more. "You remember the night Adam was born?"

Larabee felt a lump forming in his throat as the vivid memories returned, bringing with it not only warmth but also the painful loss he now bore.

"You think I could ever forget that, Buck!" he said it as a statement, not a question.

"No more than I could, Pard. You remember the carving you did?"

"Sarah and Adam in the bed," the blond said, smiling as a new warmth spread through him. He didn't need the other man to tell him what he'd been hiding. Chris stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the small carving.

"I found it... in the cave."

"But... how? We looked everywhere for it," the blond said as he sank onto the chair and stared in awe at the treasure he'd thought lost so long ago.

"Near's I can figure out Adam must've hid it in that cave. You never did ask him where it was did you?"

"N...no. I didn't want him to feel bad if he lost it," the blond said as a tear dropped unbidden from his eye and landed on the two figures carved so long ago. The grief he'd kept inside him over the years burst like a dam and tears flowed freely from his eyes and down his face. His shoulders heaved as he held the carving close to his heart in an effort to feel their presence and suddenly realized they'd always be with him. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, his family was his heart and soul and he would never let that go. He felt Wilmington's hand on his shoulder and looked up into the blue moisture laden eyes.

"Thank you, Buck," he said simply, yet he knew his long time friend understood the meaning of those words. Their friendship had survived the trials that were put on it and now, because of five other men they were family once more. He looked at the carving in his hand and knew he'd make good on the promise to make six more carvings to join the three that hung on the tree between the two graves on his homestead. Vin rode out the day before and retrieved the memories of Christmas's past, and they were once more safely packed away. Chris vowed from this moment on he'd ask six men to join him on the trip to place a Christmas tree between the two crosses. A symbol that he'd never been alone and never would be.

Chris looked towards the door as five men entered and smiled as he realized how much they meant to him. Home, friends, family, he'd found them again and vowed not to lose them this time.

THE END