Guardian Angel by Winnie

Tanner's body stood next to JD's. Anyone who knew the tracker would know the man was filled with rage in spite of the outward calm he portrayed. "Did he say when?"

"Couple of days ago. He said there was a huge storm and the sheriff and his men came back alone."

"Does he know where they buried the body," Tanner asked. He watched quietly, his stomach clenching as JD and the other young man carried on a conversation with their hands.

Dunne shook his head as he turned back to the sharpshooter. "He says they use a tree about a mile outside of town and then just bury them in a clearing not far from it. Vin, he also says there was no trial."

"What? What the hell do you mean no trial?"

"If this was C...Chris," he stammered. "The sheriff and his men convinced the people of the town that he was a murderer and they shouldn't have to supply him with food and water while they waited for Judge Wilcox--"

"Wilcox?"

"That's what he said. The sheriff convinced them to hang Chris and not wait for the judge. He's not allowed to do that is he, Vin?"

"No, Kid, he's not," Tanner heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Wilmington returning. He quickly told the moustached man what they'd found out. He watched the rage form on the handsome face and knew it mirrored his own feelings.

"Josiah can't get the others to talk. Nathan thinks they're all scared about something."

"This fella says they're scared of the sheriff and his men," Dunne explained as the hand signals began again. "He says the sheriff just declared himself the law and hired his own deputies."

"So why doesn't the town do something about him?" Wilmington asked. He remained silent as JD and the young man exchanged silent messages.

"He says a few people tried, but it wasn't long before they were exposed as thieves or murderers. They were hung the same way as the man the other day," Dunne explained, not wanting to voice his suspicions that the doomed man was indeed Chris Larabee.

"It sounds like this sheriff needs to spend time in his own jail," Tanner mumbled and watched the young man nod vigorously before he bolted away from them.

"Do you think it was C...Chris?" Dunne asked.

"Don't know, JD, but I aim to find out," Tanner hissed as he headed for the front of the jail. He heard JD and Buck following closely behind him as he round the corner and came face to face with the people of Haven. He caught and held a few intense gazes, holding them until the other man backed down. Vin Tanner was a man of few words, but his eyes could deliver his message far better than a sharply spoken curse. The men dropped their eyes as soon as he turned towards them and he knew the sheriff of Haven had these people running scared.

"I'm gonna ask once more if'n you people 'ave seen Chris Larabee," his well owned sense caught the slight looks between a few people and he knew he'd hit on something. "Larabee's a peacekeeper in Four Corners. He's hired by Judge Travis and if anythin's happened ta him the judge is gonna come down 'ard on this little town. You people hanged a man without waitin' for the judge ta hear a trial and that's against the law. Now I'm gonna ask once more if any of you saw Chris Larabee."

Silence stretched before them, the only sound to reach the ears of the six peacekeepers was the shuffling of feet on the dusty street.

"Perhaps it would benefit all of you to know that you could go to jail for accomplices to murder," Standish said softly, and again heads turned to gaze at the person standing beside them. Whispered words left tightly clenched lips as the people of Haven tried to grasp just how much trouble they could get in. "It will indeed be considered murder since there was no benefit of judicial process..."

"He means you're as guilty as the sheriff for hanging a man without letting him have his say," Jackson explained.

"He's guilty..."

"Sheriff found the broach in his pocket..."

"We didn't want ta do it..."

"Sheriff took 'im ta the hangin' tree..."

"We just did as the sheriff told us..."

Sanchez lifted his hands and put a stop to the shouted words, but the shuffling feet continued. "What you people did is illegal no matter what you say. It boils down to nothing better than a lynch mob and if the man the sheriff hanged was Chris Larabee then you're all guilty of murdering an innocent man."

"We ain't murderers. It was Burke and his men. They railroaded us inta havin' that trial. We didn't know who he was. Honest, Mister, we were just doing what we thought we had to do. We all saw the sheriff take that broach from Larabee's pocket," the barber shouted.

"I thought you said you didn't know who the man was?" Wilmington asked, his voice icy, his eyes cold and deadly.

"We, ah, I, ah... We didn't know until after," the store owner's wife called. "He pleaded with us ta send a telegram." A hand landed on her arm, but she shook it off. "They wouldn't let me, Mister," she said as she walked towards Josiah Sanchez. "I begged Hiram to send one, but he's scared of the sheriff and his bunch."

"And you're not?" Sanchez asked.

"I won't lie. I'm scared ta death he'll run us outta town or make us disappear like some of the others, but maybe you fellas can stop 'im. It might be too late for your friend, but at least you'd know his death weren't fer nothin'," the woman called. "The hangin' tree's 'bout a mile west of 'ere. Ya can't miss it. If yer friend was 'anged 'is grave should be in a little copse of trees not far from it."

The six men nodded their heads and slowly mounted their horses. No one asked where they were going. Each man needed to check for a grave and the truth about the disappearance of Chris Larabee.

The people watched as the six men rode away from their town. Men and women silently prayed these men would be the salvation of their town and not the death of it.

"So what do we do now, Ray?" Mike asked as they finished searching the edge of the river.

The waters had receded since the storm that ravaged the land and they'd been able to search the area and found the cave where Chris found shelter from the elements. The sheriff swore as he looked at the rock face and saw a small thatch of material. He knew instinctively it belonged to the drawers Larabee wore the day of the hanging. He rubbed his fingers over the torn piece of material and swore under his breath

"We're gonna find that son of a bitch and make sure he stays dead this time," he snarled.

"How're we gonna find him. He's probably been washed down the river and who knows where the hell his body ended up!" Harvey exclaimed.

Burke lifted the scrap of material and shoved it in front of Harvey's terrified face. "See this, Harve. Take a damn good look at it. Larabee had this on when we arrested him. He had them on when we were ready ta 'ang 'im and you can be damn sure he had them on when he climbed outta that river and inta that cave. That son of a bitch climbed over that ledge and he's out there somewhere. We gotta find 'im and make sure he cain't talk."

"Where do we look?" Mike asked.

"We start checking the farms. Maybe someone seen 'im. There's a few that might 'elp 'im, but most'll stay away from 'im, but there are some that'll try ta help 'im. Mount up, boys, we got us a murderin' thief ta find," he laughed at his own joke as they walked to the horses.

Chris couldn't breath. His hands reached for his throat and clawed at the tender reddened area. Something continued to tighten, constricting the airflow, choking off the pathway to his lungs. He tried to call for help and rolled onto his side. Pain ran the length of his body, but he was heedless of the cause. He knew if he didn't get the rope around his neck loose he would die and pain would be meaningless anyway. He struggled upwards on the bed, the movement pulling at the tight sunburnt skin on his torso, face and legs. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and thought he cried out, but nothing got past his lips. He stood to his full height and gasped for air as he dropped heavily to the floor. Lights flashed before his eyes as he tried to breath. Chris Larabee was dying, there was no doubt of that in his mind as his struggles grew weaker.

Abigail woke with a start and it took a couple of minutes for her to grasp what it was that woke her. The heavy thud from her son's old bedroom had her on her feet and dashing for the room before she thought about consequences. The sight that met her eyes caused her heart to skip a beat. The man she was caring for was on the floor, writhing weakly as he tried to breath. His hands were scratching at his throat as if something was wrapped around it.

She hurried into the room and knelt beside him, gently prying his fingers from his throat as she spoke. "There's nothing there, Son. You just need to calm down and let yourself breath." She could tell he was still asleep, caught up in some nightmare where his air was cut off.

The heat from his body penetrated the long flannel nightgown she wore and she pulled his head into her lap. She pulled his hands away from his throat and held them in her own as she tried to get through to the sick man she held. "Chris, it's okay, I'm not gonna let those animals hurt you anymore, but I need you to calm down."

The blue tinge around his lips scared her and she knew he still wasn't breathing. In an act of desperation she reached for his right arm, clamping her hand down on the wound there.

Chris felt something pinch his arm and fire ignited from his hand to his shoulder. His eyes opened wide and he drew in a deep breath of air. He panicked and coughed and felt his upper torso wrapped in warm tender arms. His eyes watered as he fought against the hacking sounds emanating from his own throat.

Abigail watched as the green eyes opened and widened as she released her hold on his arm. Tears ran quickly from her aged eyes as she pulled the younger man close to her and held him as he sucked in heaving breaths of air. The coughing worried her, but not as much as the fear and confusion she'd seen in his eyes as she lifted him partially into her arms. She rocked him on the floor, talking to him, soothing him, waiting for the horrid sounds to stop. She knew he was sick, knew his time in the storm and sun had caused some kind of infection to form in his chest. She used the end of her nightgown to wipe the thick mucus from around his mouth, relieved to see the blue coloring fading before her eyes.

Chris felt the soreness in his throat and felt as if he was hacking up his lungs as the arms continued to hold him. "S...Sarah," he rasped, hoping the arms he knew and loved were the ones holding him now.

She saw the hope in his fever bright eyes and wondered who Sarah was. She could tell by the way his hand lifted to touch her cheek that he wasn't seeing her. He was seeing a woman named Sarah and from the soft way he touched her cheek she knew this was someone he loved.

Chris lifted his hand and gently touched the blurry face above his. He coughed again, dropping his hands to his chest. "S...sick, S...Sarah. T...tell B...Buck...go alone. S...sell horses h...himself. I...I'll s...tay w...with you and A...Adam. O...okay? Why cry...ing ...Sarah?"

Abigail saw the pain etched on the sunburnt face and knew he still wasn't with her. The weak body, the cracked lips and the raspy voice told her just how sick this man really was. She knew he needed to have an answer as a frown marred his features.

"It's nothing, Chris," she answered as she continued to hold his trembling form.

"Didn't m...mean to m...make y...you cry. I c...can l...listen to w...what you h...had to t....tell me now. B...Buck can s...sell....hor...ses h...himself. Please, S...Sarah, t...tell me why y....you're crying."

"I'm crying because I'm happy," Abigail answered.

"H...happy. Y...you and A...Adam m...make me h...happy....L...love you..."

"We love you too, Chris. Why don't we get you back in bed and I'll get you something to drink?"

"Am t...thirsty," Larabee rasped as his eyes slowly focused on the woman holding him. His forehead creased as he tried to remember where he was and who this silver haired angel was. He felt lousy and wondered how he'd gotten on the floor.

"Well, let's get you into bed," Abigail told him.

"Why c...cryin?" he rasped as he lifted his left arm and wiped the tears from her wrinkled cheeks.

"I'm just being silly, Chris. Blame it on an old lady's emotions."

"N...not old....b...beautiful," Larabee whispered softly.

"You keep that up, young man and I'll just have to keep you with me forever," she laughed. She felt the lean form tremble in her arms. "What's wrong, Son?"

"C...cold... can't seem to get warm," he mumbled tiredly.

"Well we'll get you back to bed and I'll make you some tea and maybe a little broth. How does that sound?"

"S...sounds g...good." Larabee tried to lift himself out of her arms, but didn't have the strength. A soft scratchy sigh left his mouth as he felt her slide out from under him and ease his throbbing head to the floor. He kept his eyes on the woman and tried to remember who she was. His instincts told him she was a friend and he knew she would do anything to help him. He lifted his hands to hers and using what little strength he had climbed to his feet.

"S...sorry," he mumbled as he saw her grimace. He tried to pull out of her grasp, but felt her arms tighten their hold on him.

"I'm okay, Chris, just my bones tellin' me to take it easy." She felt him pull away from her and pulled him closer, raising his lefty arm over her shoulder as she moved towards the bed. In his weakened condition it was easy for her to control their movements and she smiled at his effort to relieve her burden. "There'll be no more of that, Son. I may not be as young as you are, but right now I'm a hell of a lot stronger. Now quit fightin' me and move those legs to the bed," Abigail ordered.

"Y...yes, Ma'am," Larabee mumbled breathlessly as he finally sank onto the edge of the bed. He let his upper body drop to the pillow and felt her lift his legs.

Abigail smiled as she eased the light sheet and blanket over the battered form. She was glad she'd trusted her instincts when she first saw this man. There was something about the green eyes surrounded by dark circles and sunburn that touched her heartstrings. She vowed to hear his story once he healed up some. She watched his chest heave and knew he was fighting the pain and fever ravaging through his body. She stood up and headed for the outer rooms. It wasn't long before she had the fire going and water heating on top of it. She quickly through more of the chopped Osha roots into a pot and placed it next to the boiling water.

She knew without asking that the burn was bothering him and readied more of the Canaigre. Unsteady hands filled a cup with cold water. She took the plant back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Two green eyes shot open immediately and she smiled as she flicked back a lock of long blond hair.

"I've got to put some more of this on your burns, Chris."

"O...kay," he told her.

"Do you want some water first?"

"P...please," his head was lifted and a cup placed before his lips. He felt the soothing liquid enter his mouth and swallowed painfully. Slowly, but surely he drank the water until she took it away. "T...thanks," he mumbled.

"You're more than welcome, Son," she told him. "Now I'm gonna rub this stuff into your skin. You tell me when it gets to much for you and we'll take a break."

"O...kay." Larabee gritted his teeth as she smoothed the juice onto his skin. He held his breath through the touch of the hands on his chest, face and thighs. He bit back a cry as she turned him on his side and slathered the juice over the burns there. As she continued down his lean body a slight tremble wracked through him. He coughed and pulled his legs up to his body as he wrapped his arms around his chest. He remembered being sick as a child and the doctor telling his parents he might not make it. He would've been only too glad to escape the agony in death and now he felt the same way, but he wasn't gonna give in to it. He would fight to stay alive and see that justice was doled out where it belonged. At the moment he just couldn't remember who deserved his wrath. He felt her hands ease him to his back once more and knew she was talking to him, but he couldn't hear her over the throbbing drums in his skull.

Chris felt the water in his stomach rise like a tidal wave up his throat. He panicked and tried to sit up as he knew what was coming. A hand on his shoulder eased him to his side and the water disgorged from his body, mingled with hacking coughs until he lay back weak and struggling to breath once more.

Abigail rushed from the room, the terrible sound of Larabee's desperation ringing in her ears. She hurried to the stove and lifted the boiled roots from the pot. She strained the tea into a cup and laid it aside. She poured the rest of the liquid into a bowl and brought into the room. The heavy wheeze and harsh cough from the man on the bed told her he needed relief fast. The medicinal odors from the Osha root soon permeated the room as she hurried back to get the home remedy cough syrup. Before returning to the room she steeped a cup of Willow bark tea to wash the syrup down with.

When she re-entered the room she saw the green eyes watching her. His breathing seemed a little easier, but he still coughed periodically.

"I got two things for you to drink, Son," she said as she placed the two cups on the bedside table. "Just let me get a few more pillows to stack behind you. Maybe that'll help you breath better."

"O...kay," Larabee answered. He watched her leave, again wondering who this woman was and why she was so willing to help him. She returned with two plump pillows and helped him sit forward. Chris held himself erect while she placed the pillows behind his back. He breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back into the firm feather pillow.

"How's that," Abigail asked.

"B...better...thanks," he answered.

"Now let's get this into you so you can go back to sleep." She held the first cup to his lips and smiled as his nose wrinkled. "You need this, Chris," she told him.

"S...smells...bad," Larabee told her, closing his mouth. One look from the woman made him smile and open his mouth.

"My Will used to say the same thing, but like you he drank it." Abigail watched as he fought to swallow the bitter tasting syrup. There wasn't much of it, but what there was seemed to take forever to get down his throat.

"One more thing for you, Chris," Abigail told him as his eyes began to lose focus.

"W...what?" he rasped.

"Just a little tea. It'll help with the pain and fever and hopefully let you sleep," she soothed as she held the cup to the cracked lips. She smiled as he drank half the cup, but couldn't get him to drink anymore as he slipped into a deep sleep.

The six peacekeepers found the tree easily. Its gnarled roots and thick dead limbs a stark contrast to the area around it. The thick trunk was blackened as if it was hit by lightening at one point in time. The tree, like its victims, was dead and lifeless as they searched for the area for a fresh grave.

Vin led them to a copse of hardwood trees and soon found the telltale mounds of earth that indicated where a body was buried. He knew the others were checking as well, but prayed he wouldn't hear a shout of alarm. Fifteen minutes later they met back in the clearing.

"Anything?" Dunne asked.

"Don't look like no new graves in the area, Kid," Tanner replied.

"I came to the same conclusion during my perusal of the area, Mr. Tanner," Standish explained.

"Do you think Chris got away from them, Vin?" Wilmington asked.

"He musta done somethin', Buck. I ain't seen no body and the sheriff and his men went lookin' fer somethin'. We all know, Chris, he ain't gonna give in without a fight. I got a feelin' he's out there and we'd best find 'im before Burke and his men do," Tanner explained as he hurried to his horse.

"Not much daylight left, Vin," Sanchez observed.

"Got about an hour, Josiah. Maybe we should head back ta town and see if we can pick up the sheriff's tracks. Once we find out where he's goin' we 'ead out at first light."

"We need to go after the son of a bitch now," Wilmington snarled.

"Buck's right," Dunne agreed.

"I'd like nothin' more than ta go after 'em tonight, but the horses need ta rest and we need ta get more supplies," Tanner advised.

"Vin's right, Buck, we won't do Chris any good if the horses collapse and we can't get to him," Jackson told them.

"We all want to find him, Buck, but we have to make sure we have the ability to do so. We get some rest and supplies and then we find Brother Chris," Sanchez said as the six men mounted up.

Where the hell are you, Stud?, Wilmington wondered as he followed the other back to haven.

Burke swore in frustration as they left the Martin farm. They'd stopped by four homes so far, but came away empty handed. No one had seen the man he described, but if they did they'd hold him for the sheriff. He was hot and angry as they rode away. In the two days since they'd found the small piece of material over the cave, they'd searched the surrounding area and along the riverbank. They failed to turn up anything new and he wondered if maybe Mike and Harvey were right and Larabee was a dead man. He thought of the money and other items stashed away in his home in haven. More money than he'd ever had in his whole life and so easy to take. All he needed was to pick the person to rob and find a victim to charge with the crime. He hoped his choice of Chris Larabee wasn't going to be his undoing. We need to be sure, he thought as he spurred his horse towards the next farm.

Twilight would soon be upon them and he wanted to bed down as close to the Newman farm as possible. She'd be their first stop tomorrow. He smiled as he pictured the elderly crone. She'd made him feel two feet tall on her last visit to town and he wanted to scare her by showing up on her doorstep at dawn.

Abigail checked the pot of chicken broth she had on the stove. She'd killed one of the hens from her henhouse in order to make the tasty broth for the sick man. Throughout the day he'd wake up, take small sips of water and teas before losing the contents of his stomach in a violent steam. He'd lay back against the pillow, sweat beading on his forehead and glistening on his chest, coughing and gasping for air. She worried that he was rapidly losing the strength he needed to survive. She knew how important it was to keep fluids in the sick man, yet the violence of his vomiting sapped whatever energy he built up during sleep.

She hoped the salty broth would be easier on his stomach. As darkness spread a thick blanket outside her windows she lit the lantern on the table. She sat wearily and rubbed her tired bloodshot eyes. Her hands skimmed through her hair and she sighed tiredly. The long day promised to turn into an even longer night as a weak cry reached her ears. She used her hands to push herself up from the chair and walked to the bedroom.

The blond hair stuck to the sunburnt face, the head slowly moving from side to side and a cracking voice issued from the strained throat.

Larabee stood on the street watching as Vin Tanner looked into the back of his wagon. Chris's instincts kicked in and he knew something was wrong. His head came up and he saw the muzzle of a shotgun jutting from a window of the hotel. "No! Vin!" he screamed as a shot rang out. He watched as the shaggy head snapped back and blood flowed from a bullet wound in the center of his best friend's forehead.

Abigail watched as the blond became distressed, the head moving faster as the whatever nightmare he was having grew more intense. She moved into the room and sat beside him on the bed.

He hurried to stand over Tanner's body, only to find the face belonged to JD Dunne. The kid's mouth was frozen open in a silent scream of pain and anger. The face changed again and this time it was Jackson's face, his neck surrounded by a thick noose, his tongue hanging from his mouth. With a quicksilver movement the face became that of Ezra Standish, bloodied and beaten, cards spread over his face, eyes staring lifelessly back at him. It shifted again and became Josiah Sanchez, dead, but there were no visible wounds, just a large black crow pecking at his lower lip. "NO!" Chris screamed as the face changed a final time and became Buck Wilmington. The once handsome face burnt beyond recognition, yet Chris's fever mind knew immediately who he was seeing.

Abigail felt her heart break as the harsh cry turned into a soft sob. She knew this man would never show such weakness when he was healthy and strong and it tore at her to see him like this. She vowed she'd get to see Chris as he should be seen, strong and healthy. She let the tears fall as she realized she didn't even know his full name.

"Chris," she called softly, feeling the trembling slowly subside. She knew holding him was not good for his sunburned skin, but she knew he needed to feel someone touching him. To know he wasn't alone in the world. The cry she'd just heard from him made her feel as if that's how he felt. "Come on, Chris, I want you to open your eyes and look at me. That's it," she smiled as the eyes moved behind his lids.

Chris heard the voice pulling at him, but didn't want to face any more pain. His mind was fighting what his body seemed to think was a losing cause. His skin tingled and burned where hands touched him, yet he didn't want to lose that touch. He settled his body against her and let his eyes open. The face above him was blurry, but he knew who it was and he forced a smile to his face.

"A...Abby," he mumbled.

The small cracks on his lips opened and bled when he talked and she placed her finger over his lips. "Try not to talk, Son. Think you could manage a little broth and water?"

Larabee nodded and felt her ease him back to the pillows. His body craved the liquid, yet his soul missed the soothing touch of his guardian angel. For that's what she was. He had no idea anymore why he was hurt or what brought him to this haven, but the woman looking after him must've been sent from above. His fever baked mind kept conjuring up images as he lay in the bed. Men with guns, their faces hidden in shadow, a hang man's noose, a cameo broach, a locket, a fire. He shook his head to rid himself of the images of the brightly burning fire and the screams echoing in the night. A scratchy sound escaped his throat as the fiery vision faded.

"Chris. Are you alright?"

He looked at the woman, his eyes filled with unshed tears, as he pulled his body further up in the bed. "I'm f...fine," he gasped as he waited for the room to stop spinning.

Abigail sat beside him and waited for him to relax. "Are you ready to try this?" she asked when she thought he was past the worst of it.

"T...think so," he smiled.

She eased the cup of water to his lips and let him take a couple of sips. She removed the cup and sat it on the table. She watched as he fought the nausea, praying that this time it would stay down. "Are you ready to try a little broth?"

Chris nodded slightly, afraid to speak for fair of losing his fight with his rebellious stomach.

She eased him forward again and held the cup of lukewarm broth to his lips. He swallowed a couple of sips and she eased him back to the pillow once more. Again she let a few minutes pass before offering him more water. For the next hour she alternated the water and the broth until he finished half a cup of each. She watched as his tired eyes closed before she sat back in the chair she placed beside the bed. She reached for the basin of water and gently washed his face and taut chest. During the day she'd rubbed the juice of the inner pit of the plant into his skin. She knew it would be some time before the burn lost its sting, but it was all she could do for him now. She wished she had something to give him for pain, but all she had was the willow bark tea. It helped, but she knew it wasn't nearly enough.

She washed his body once more and applied the soothing juice before covering him in the soft sheet and blanket once more. She replaced the cooled basin of Osha water with a fresh one and checked her patient once more. Knowing she'd done everything she could, for now, she stood up and headed for her own bed. She left his door open in case he needed her during the night.

At dawn the following morning six riders left the small town of Haven. It took Vin less than half an hour to find the trail the Sheriff and his men took when they'd left three days before. No traffic came through the town during that time and the trail was easily discernible for the experienced tracker. Broken twigs and shoed prints were easily pointed out to the others as he knelt on the road. One of the horses had a distinctive groove in its right front shoe and Tanner would use that one to make sure they remained on the trail.

Burke and his men rode into the silent yard. The tiny house, barn and chicken coop were in good repair and the sheriff wondered where this woman got her energy. He slid from his horse and flipped his reins to Harvey.

"You two wait here," he ordered as he walked towards the porch.

"Sure ya don't want one of us ta come with ya? I mean she's a real tough ol' biddy," Mike asked.

"Yeah, Ray, member what she did in town," Harvey laughed as he remembered the elderly woman pushing Burke out of the way and climbing into her wagon.

"Shut up!" Burke snarled as he climbed the steps.

Abigail woke to the sound of horses entering her front yard. She'd lived alone for three years and awoke to any noise. She knew there were three horses as she eased the curtain back on the window to the left of the door. Her hand went to her mouth when she saw the three men on horseback. She hurried to make sure the blond was okay before reaching over the small fireplace for the shotgun. She hurried to the front door and waited for them to come up the step.

A knock sounded on the door and she took a deep breath. She lifted her shotgun in front of her and opened the door. "What the hell do you want, Burke?" she asked angrily, her dislike of the man shining through in her words.

"Take it easy ya ol' fool," Burke hissed. "Put the damn gun down we're not 'ere ta 'urt ya. We just want ta ask ya a couple of questions?"

"I don't have nothing to say to the likes of you, now get off've my property before I waste a bullet on your worthless hide," she heard laughter from Burke's companions, but didn't care. These men were animals and she knew she had what they were after.

"We'll leave when ya answer my questions. We're looking fer a murderin' thief! 'Ave ya seen a blond haired man in the last few days," Burke asked.

"There's been no one but you three in the last few weeks. Guess there's been no human company in ages," she hissed.

"Watch yer mouth, ya ol' crone or I'm gonna shut ya up fer good," Burke warned.

"Big strong sheriff's gonna take on an old woman who can't hardly take care of herself," she laughed as his face reddened. "I told you I haven't seen anyone and if I did I'd make sure he got away from you and your so called laws."

"Ya'd best shut up or I'll shut ya up," the sheriff snapped.

"Then get off my property before I put a new hole in you."

"I'm gonna take a look 'round first. Now get outta my way."

"Take another step if you want, but first tell me where you'd prefer I put the new hole?" She saw some of the confidence leave his face and she held her ground. She smiled as she moved the shotgun from limb to limb on his body.

"I'm gonna search the barn and the shed, then we're comin' back 'ere and we're gonna search the 'ouse. Ya'd best put that damn gun away 'fore we get done or we'll come in 'ere shootin'."

"You won't get far, Sheriff," she said the last word sarcastically, but it was lost on the man. "You'll be the first one to stop a bullet once you step through my door. Now get outta here." She slammed the door in his face and leaned heavily against it. The strength her words gave her left as soon as she closed the door and she nearly cried in relief. A sound from the bedroom caught her attention and she hurried towards it.

She entered the room to find Chris trying to push back the blankets. She hurried to his side and held his shoulders. "No, Chris, just lie still."

"H...hot! T...too damn hot. B...burning...fire," his head rolled from side to side as he cried weakly. "S...Sarah, help me...I'm b...burning up." He shoved against her hands and fought to get away from the fire burning within his own body and mind. Dancing figures swam before him, feverish heat causing the shadows to form into people he knew, yet couldn't identify.

"Chris, please, you need to calm down, Son. I got you and I'm gonna take care of you."

"T...too hot," his cracked voice grew weaker, but still he struggled against her hands. "P...please, I...I c...can't..." he grew quiet as a cool damp cloth made contact with his heated skin.

"I know you're hot, Chris. You've got a bad fever and you've got sickness in your body. I'm doing everything I can to make you feel better but Sheriff Burke and his men are outside."

Burke, the name got through his fever and delirium and he forced his eyes open. "B...Burke..."

"He's looking for you, Son and you're gonna have to be quiet so he won't know you're here."

"N...need a g...gun," he mumbled.

"You wouldn't be able to hold a gun right now, Chris. I've got my shotgun and I'll take care of them."

"T...they'll kill y...you. C...can't l...let them get y...you," he struggled against her hold, but lay back in frustration as she quickly proved how weak he was.

"I can handle myself, Chris. I've been taking care of myself all my life. My Will used to say I was as strong and mule headed as they come. I think he was right. Now how about I get you some breakfast before those boys come back."

"O...kay," Larabee smiled thinly and watched her back as she left him alone in the room. Burke, he thought as the whiskered face swam before his eyes. The cruel look on the man's face caused him to shiver in spite of the heat in his body. He watched as the woman came back into the room with two cups in her hands. I won't let them hurt you, he silently vowed.

"First we start with the Syrup," she smiled at the look of distaste on his face. "Now don't you go scowling like that. With the way your skin's all burnt it might end up staying that way. Now open up and we'll get this part over with as quick as we can. Then I've got a little fruit juice for you." She lifted his head and placed the cup to his lips.

Chris drank the small amount of obnoxious liquid and grimaced as it burned a path down his abused throat. He waited for a few minutes, breathing deeply to once more quell his roiling stomach.

"One more, Son." She held the second cup which contained juice strained from her own fruit preserves to his mouth.

Larabee smiled as the thick syrup hit his throat, wondering if he'd died and gone to heaven. The sweet liquid tasted exotic after the horrid taste of the cough syrup. It took a while, but he got the drink down and sighed heavily. Although his stomach still rebelled against the first drink he continued to fight to hold it inside.

Abigail watched as the green eyes closed and went back to the outer room. She went to the window and pulled the curtain back slightly. The front yard was empty, but something told her Burke and the others weren't very far away. She picked up the shotgun and wondered how long before she'd have to use it to defend the man in the room.

Vin continued tracking the three horses until they came to the river. He could see a jumble of prints in the still damp mud near the edge and knew the men had spent some time in the area. He moved along the edge and followed the footprints across a narrow ledge. He spotted a small cave and quickly moved towards. He could feel the other five men anxiously awaiting word from him. He knelt before the mouth of the cave and looked inside. It was bigger than he first suspected, big enough for a man to stretch out, but not quite high enough for him to stand in. He eased back up, and used his hands to rub the ache in his lower back. The days of hard riding and searching for their friend was wreaking havoc with the strained muscles and he knew he'd be in misery if he kept it up much longer.

He glanced around the area and note the smudge marks on the cliff face. He knew this area was covered by the overhanging ledge and was protected from the rain and these marks could've been there a long time. Vin Tanner knew without a doubt Chris Larabee had been here and scaled the rocky cliff face in order to save his own life. He knew they needed to find the gunslinger before it was too late. He turned and walked back to the small ledge and easily jumped the strip of water.

"Anything?" Wilmington asked.

"There's a cave over there. Big 'nough for a man ta hide out if'n he was lookin' for shelter from rain or..."

"Burke," the ladies' man finished.

"Yeah. Found a spot that looks like someone may have climbed o'er the ledge. If it was Chris then at least we know he's alive when he left 'ere."

"Vin, I found that track you showed me. It looks like they's headed south from here," Dunne hurried to show Tanner and the others what he'd found.

Vin knelt and checked the track and turned a quick grin on the young easterner. "Ya done good, Kid." He didn't need to look to know how much his words meant to JD Dunne. The kid was always trying to prove himself in spite of the confidence the others had in him. The Bostonian was proving to be a valuable asset to their tight knit group. "Alright, let's ride!" Tanner ordered as they mounted up and moved out.

Burke, Mike and Harvey moved away from the house and tied the horses in a patch of grass near a small strand of sturdy trees.

"What're we gonna do, Ray?" Harvey asked.

"We're gonna wait until the ol' biddy goes ta sleep. Shouldn't be too long with her bein' so ol' and all."

"Then what?" Mike asked.

Burke was beginning to think he'd joined up with two idiots. He shook his head in exasperation as he answered. "Then we go ta the house and we make damn sure Larabee's not in there."

"What if he is?" Mike asked.

"Then we hang the son of a bitch just like we planned."

"And if he's not there?" Harvey asked.

"Maybe we'll just have ta kill the ol' woman and make it look like a robbery."

"Yeah, she's lived long 'nough. It's time she quit bein' an old bitch," Mike laughed.

"Mike I want ya ta go around back. See if ya can get a look in the windows back there. Harvey, you take the east side. Just watch and listen. Ya see anythin' I need ta know I'll be over by the barn watchin' the front of the pace." Burke led the way back to the farm and took cover behind the barn. He watched the front of the house, but nothing move and he settled in to wait.

Abigail moved about the house getting things ready to treat her patient as best she could. She prepared the Osha roots and the Canaigre and poured cool water into the basin. She needed to try and cool the man's fever before it got worse. She wished she had ice, but it wasn't available to her right now. She picked up the basin and walked back into the room where he lay. His body was once more engulfed in a fine sheen of perspiration and she set the basin down on the table. She touched his forehead and watched as sick green eyes opened and tried to focus on her. A weak cough tore from his chest and she knew this was evidence of his worsening condition. He needed to drink more, but if she overdid it with the water and juice he vomited it before it had a chance to settle. The small amount of liquid he took in so far that day wasn't near enough.

"How do you feel, Son?" she asked softly.

Chris saw the sympathy in her eyes and forced a smile to his face. "I'm o...okay," he lied.

"Sure you are," she laughed. "I wish I had something more to give you to help with the pain, but all I have is the Willow bark tea. Do you think you can drink a little for me?"

He couldn't resist the hope in the softly spoken words and nodded slowly. He drank a couple of sips of the tepid liquid and turned away.

She watched him turn his face away and placed the cup back on the table. Without speaking she used the cloth to wash the sweat from his face and neck. She heard the soft sigh from his throat and smiled, knowing her touch was helping him.

Chris relaxed and let her tend to him. He didn't have the energy it would take to stop her even if he wanted to. His chest continued to cause him misery with each breath. He coughed to rid his body of the heavy feeling, but it wasn't working. The harder he coughed the more energy was sapped from his body and the weaker he felt. He knew she'd changed the water by the bed as fresh vapors assaulted his nostrils, seeping deep into his throat.

His thoughts returned to Burke's visit. He didn't know how long ago it was, but he knew the man would be back. Burke would not take the chance on him being alive and getting help.

"Chris," her voice sounded tired and he opened his eyes to look into her face. "I'm gonna need to clean the wound on your arm again," she told him.

Larabee nodded and eased onto his left side. He soon felt her working at the wound and felt something thick and sticky flow from it. The pain was excruciating and he tried to detach himself from it. He held his breath as she continued to drain the infected wound. He felt her pour a small amount of whiskey into it and gasped as it burned painfully. His stomach muscles clenched, his head throbbed, and his throat seemed to close over. "S...sic..." he didn't finish the word as a thick stream of vomit erupted from his throat.

Abigail knew what was coming and placed the towel in front of him to catch what he expelled. She waited for him to finish and turned ham onto his back once more. The lines of pain were deeply creased in his forehead as she washed his face and neck. She took the soiled towel away and at beside him, surprised to see his eyes open and watching her every move.

"S...sorry," he mumbled.

"You got nothing to be sorry for, Son. I've cleaned my share of sick beds and even been in a few myself. Now you just rest and let me take care of you. I'm gonna give you a little more water, okay?" He nodded and accepted the small amount of water.

He kept his eyes on her as she placed the glass back no the table. "Y...you n...need sleep."

She couldn't help but smile at his words. As sick as he was he could still see how tired she was. "I'm fine, Chris, I'm just gonna..."

"Go...sleep...I'm f...fine," he assured her.

"I will. Now you stop worrying about these old bones and get some rest."

"N...not till you do," he answered firmly.

"If this is a test of wills, Chris, you'll lose. I'm the stubborn mule remember?"

He smiled and let his eyes close. He didn't think he'd sleep, his body was filled with the reawakened fire of fever and he trembled in spite of the heat.

Abigail watched him closely and knew he wasn't sleeping. She re-wet the cloth and placed it across his forehead before leaving the room. As an afterthought she came back inside and closed the heavy curtains. She walked about her home doing the same at each window.

They rode most of the morning before coming to a small farm. Josiah rode up to the front of the house and slid from his horse. He'd been elected to go in alone so they wouldn't seem so intimidating to whoever lived there. He walked past the small garden of flowers and knocked on the plain wooden door. It wasn't long before a woman in a plain gingham dress and flour streaked through her dark hair opened the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I sure hope so, Ma'am. I'm looking for a friend of mine. He's about six feet, blond hair and green eyes."

"I already tol' the sheriff I ain't seen no one 'round here..."

"Sheriff Burke?" Sanchez asked.

"He's the only Sheriff in these parts, Mister. He came by here yesterday lookin' for yer friend. Only he said the man was a convicted murderer."

"My friend is no murderer, Ma'am," Sanchez assured her.

"The sheriff said they had a trial for him and he was found guilty," the woman frowned as she looked at the large man.

"There was no trial, Ma'am. Burke and his men railroaded the people into a guilty verdict without giving Chris a chance to speak."

"I wish I could help you, Mister, but I really haven't seen anyone in ages. If it's any help the sheriff and his men were headin' to the Martin place next."

"Where would that be?"

"Stay on the trail and you'll come across it. They might not be home though seeing this is the day they go into Haven for supplies."

"We'll check with them. Thank you Ma'am," Sanchez tipped his hat and turned away.

"I sure hope ya find yer friend, Mister," she called after the retreating form.

Mike move towards the second window and swore as the curtain was drawn closed. The first one he'd checked was the old ladies bedroom. He'd seen nothing out of the ordinary there and moved away. He tried to see into the second room but everything was in shadows. The curtains covering the window kept him from seeing anything but vague shapes. He couldn't tell if anyone was inside or not. He moved back towards the trees and hurried around the front of the house.

He noticed the damaged plants as he hurried towards Burke's hideout. He knew the plants could be medicinal in nature and he wondered if Larabee was indeed inside and the old woman was taking care of him. A cruel glint shone in his eyes as he made the corner of the barn and saw one of his partners.

"Anything?" Burke asked.

"Checked her bedroom, but couldn't see nothin'..."

"What about the other one?"

"She closed the curtains 'fore I could see inside."

"Now why'd she do that," Burke asked, his mouth curling up on one side.

"She's hiding somethin'."

"Or someone," the sheriff finished.

"Someone who's hurt," Mike smiled as he said the three words. "She's been cutting the Canaigre for something."

"Canaigre?"

"It's a plant that grows just about everywhere. Ma used it when one of us kids got sunburnt. I figure Larabee's been running around in nothin' but his drawers. He's got ta 'ave some burns on 'im."

"It's time we paid her and whoever she's hidin' a visit. Go get Harvey and we'll see who she's hidin'."

Abigail moved through the house, running on sheer willpower. She kept the loaded shotgun with her at all times, knowing Burke and his men were still out there. She continued to check on her patient, making sure he took small sips of water or the juice from her preserves. There were time when he was lucid and fighting to get out of bed while other times he seemed to be delirious and calling for the unknown woman again. When his deep raspy voice shouted for Sarah it cut through Abigail's soul. When he shouted for Adam she could only guess it was a child he was calling for. Each time he'd come out of the delirium he'd have tears in his eyes. The emotional pain in the green orbs was worse than anything physical and she wondered what happened to the two people he seemed to care so much for. She sat in the chair, the shotgun across her lap and drifted towards sleep.

They found the Martin place an hour later and once more Josiah did the talking. This time it was a man who answered the door. They were getting ready to head for the town and he snapped his answers curtly as he readied the wagon and called for his wife and kids. He explained that the Sheriff was there earlier in the day and that he was looking for a murdering bastard. Josiah didn't bother explaining to the man that Larabee was no murderer, but something told him his words would be a wasted effort. He joined his friends at the end of the lane and watched as the wagon and it's four occupants rode away.

"Did they see Chris?" Dunne asked worriedly.

"No, but our friendly sheriff was here last night."

"Then he still hasn't found Chris," Jackson observed.

"Nope. It seems like the sheriff and his men are having no luck either," Josiah told them. 'Thank god,' he silently thought.

"We'd best keep going. The trail continues south from here," Tanner said as the men once more rode away empty.

Chris opened his eyes and looked at the woman in the chair beside him. Her relaxed pose took years off her face and he saw how pretty she must've been when she was younger. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was and why he hurt so much. His throat was dry and felt as if it was full of sand. He felt as if his mouth was filled with cotton and he reached for the glass on the table. His arms felt leaden as he lifted the glass and pulled it towards his mouth. He swallowed a few sips and sighed. He slid the glass back to the table and came fully awake as he heard a squeak from the outer room. He reached for the shotgun in the woman's lap. He slid it from her fingers even as her eyes shot open and she grabbed for it.

"What's wrong?" Abigail asked as she looked at the blond.

"Someone's at the door," he mumbled as he pointed the gun at the door to his room.

"Dammit!" she swore as she took the gun from his hands and headed for the outer rooms. She ignore the weak sounds of protest issuing from the bedroom. She lifted the gun and pointed it at the front door of her house. "If that's you, Burke, you'd better think twice about coming inside! I'll fill you full of holes before the door finishes opening!" she hissed and was pleased to hear retreating footsteps. The relief was short lived as she heard a sound from the bedroom.

Chris forced his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He waited for the room top stop spinning and stood to his full height, his right arm gripped tightly in his left hand as he forced one foot ahead of the other. The sound of glass shattering on his right and he looked up as a man came flying through the window. He didn't take the time to see who it was as he launched an attack before the man regained his feet.

Larabee fought with everything he could, knowing there was no way he could win in his condition. Still he battered at the man's face with his damaged wrist until two dark hands clasped his own. The two rolled back and fourth on the floor, each struggling to get the upper hand.

Chris felt his anger and frustration give him renewed strength and he pulled his arms from the steel grip holding them. Again he sent fists into the man's face, ignoring the cries of pain, smiling as he realized the cries were issuing from his own damaged throat. He couldn't let himself feel the pain or weakness, but his mind registered both as he pummelled the form he had pinned to the floor.

Abigail hurried towards the room, but the sound of splintering glass from the second bedroom drew her attention, "Chris!" she cried as she hurried into the room. She saw the two men grappling no the floor and pointed her shotgun in their direction. She waited, praying for the chance she needed, but none came as the two forms rolled swiftly back and fourth.

"Drop it!" the sound came from her right and she turned to see one of Burke's deputies pointing his gun at her. Without thinking she lifted her shotgun and released a shell directly into his chest. She turned as the door flew open, but did not have time to lift her gun as Burke levelled his own directly at her. "Don't," he signaled for her to lower her weapon, a leering smile on his whiskered face.

Abigail knew she had no choice. The weapon in her hand was empty and of no use. Burke would put a bullet in her before she had a chance to get close enough to club him. She dropped the gun to the floor and listened as it clattered against the hard wood.

"Good choice, Mrs. Newman," Burke sneered. "Now ya'll hang fer killin' my deputy. Maybe we'll even string ya up next ta Larabee. Now git in the room," he ordered as the sounds of the scuffle continued. He was shocked to see Larabee battering Mike's body. He pulled Abigail Newman closer to him and fired a shot in the air. The sunburnt face turned towards him and he laughed, "let 'im up, Larabee or the ol' biddy dies right now!"

Chris kept his fist held high above Mike, his arm trembling with the effort it took not to bring it crashing into the hated man's face.

Mike felt the incredible force that was beating him cease and shoved the body off his own. He smiled as Larabee landed on his back beside the bed. "Son of a bitch don't know when ta quit," he snarled as he drew back his foot and kicked at the swollen wound in the gunslinger's right arm. He laughed at the sharp gasp of pain and grabbed the wounded arm, dragging the injured man to his feet.

Chris gasped and tried to stop the nausea rising in his stomach. He forced his head up and his eyes to open. He met Abigail's worried gaze and turned an icy glare on the man who caused him so much pain.

"L...let...her go!" he hissed as the pressure continued on his arm.

"I don't think so, Larabee, she killed one of my deputies and is gonna hang right after you." Burke laughed as he saw the horror in the green eyes. "Bring 'im outside, Mike, we gotta find us a nice big tree with a thick branch jest fer 'im!"

"We're not bringin' 'im back ta the hangin' tree?" Mike asked.

"That'll take too long. I wanna make sure he don't git the chance ta come up with an escape plan. Nope, we're gonna use this ol' lady to make sure he cooperates."

"I'll do what you want. Just let 'er go," Larabee muttered weakly. His knees trembled and his legs threatened to give out.

"You're gonna 'ang, Larabee," Mike hissed close to his ear. He dragged the sick man out of the house and shoved the naked form to the ground.

Burke laughed as he realized Larabee was totally nude and helpless in front of him. He shoved Abigail towards Mike and knelt beside the trembling body. "So, Larabee, ya got a thin' fer ol' women. Ya like 'em, Larabee. Man like you should be 'shamed of 'imself."

"S...sick, bas....tard," Chris cried as the sheriff poked against his groin with the pistol.

"Sounds like yer the one's sick, Larabee," he cackled as he shoved hard on the sick man's abdomen.

Chris felt his stomach churn as the sheriff continued with the abuse to his body. He fought to breath, but little air entered his lungs. His eyes opened to mere slits as the sheriff continued to talk to him.

"Could gut shoot ya with yer own gun, Larabee. I kind like this 'ere colt of yours. Kinda feels like better justice if'n I was ta shoot ya with yer own weapon. Watch ya bleed out all over the ol' woman's yard."

Larabee's eyes focused on the white handled Colt in the sheriff's hand. He knew he was a dead man anyway, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Taking a deep breath to calm his breathing and his stomach he moved with lightning speed that surprised not only himself, but the other three people as well. He heard Abigail cry out, but couldn't take the time to see what was happening with her and the man named Mike. He felt the gun being lowered towards him as Burke fought to get the upper hand. He struggled to keep from passing out as inch by inch the gun came down towards him. This was a fight he could never win, yet it was one he had too. The gun lowered further, almost to his throat now as the sheriff moved up over his body. A gasp escaped his throat, but he dismissed the pain raging through his sunburnt flesh.

"Die you son of a bitch!" Burke grinned as he continued to push down on the gun.

The sound of the first shot echoed through the hills and six men tried to gauge where the sound came from. The second one gave them the direction and they spurred their horses ahead. The thundering sound of hoof beats echoed in the still afternoon air. Sending tufts of dirt and sod behind each animal.

"No!" Abigail screamed as she watched the gun come down towards the blond's chest. She fought the man holding her and drove her elbow into his side.

Chris heard her scream and with a strength born of desperation and a sense of calm he shoved up with the last ounce of strength. His finger on the trigger, knowing Burke's finger was also there. The shot was deafening to his ears and at first he wasn't sure if he'd won or lost. A dead weight on his chest made it difficult to breath, but he didn't have the strength to push him off. He heard sounds to his left and turned his head to see Abigail Newman fighting against the man he knew as Mike. With renewed fury he pushed against the body above him. He cried out in frustration as the body remained over his own. He reached for the gun in the lifeless hand and pried it from the dead fingers. Calling on everything he had left he lifted the gun and pointed it at the two figures. His vision blurred as sweat and dust ran into them. He saw Mike's hand holding a gun and Chris Larabee knew this was one shot he had to take.

"Please, God!" he cried as he eased back on the trigger.

A third shot had them riding faster, six men leaning forward in their saddles, desperate to find the man they'd been searching for. By the time the fourth shot rang out they were riding into a yard. They took no note of the house, barn, or shed. Their eyes resting on the three figures lying on the ground and the woman standing over a two of the unmoving forms.

Abigail heard the shot and was shocked to see the man she was fighting gasp as blood issued from his mouth in a gargling rasp. She looked towards the man who'd saved her life in spite of the odds. She hurried to his side just as the sound of thundering hoof beats sounded from behind the barn. She grabbed the gun from Larabee's hand and turned to face the newcomers.

"Don't you touch him!" she shouted as fatigue and sweat made her eyes blur. Her first shot kicked up the dirt in front of a large horse and she made out the figure seated tall in the saddle. Something about the lean form in buckskin cried out for her to trust him, but she'd been through too much. She watched as he climbed down from his saddle. "I said you can't touch him!" she hissed firing once more. She swore as the hat flew from the newcomer's head. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of these men hurting the man she was trying to protect.

Tanner's eyes glanced from the woman to the dirt covered figures beside her. Blood covered the side of one man's head and dripped onto the still figure below him. "I ain't gonna hurt 'im, Ma'am."

"That's right, Ma'am, we're his friends," Dunne interrupted as he joined the tracker.

Abigail's eyes turned to a third figure as he approached. She could see the worry etched on his dark face as he knelt before her. "I'm a healer, Ma'am. I want to help him."

"H...healer?" she asked

"Yes, Ma'am. Chris is a good friend and we want to help him," Tanner's soft voice drawled as he drew closer to the woman and the unmoving men.

"You won't hurt him?" she asked, the gun held in front of her as she continued to protect the injured man.

"No, Ma'am, Nathan here will help him," Sanchez soothed as he knelt beside the trembling woman. He reached out and took the gun from her unsteady hands.

Abigail looked into the deep blue eyes and knew she could trust this man. There was something in the steady gaze that told her to trust him. With a heavy sigh she felt him pull her into an embrace. She sobbed against his shoulder and watched as the dark skinned man and the longhaired man pulled the body off Chris Larabee. She watched as dark hands reached down to touch the blond's neck. She lifted her head off the strong shoulder and wiped the tears from her face.

"Is he?"

"He's alive," Jackson said. He looked towards the woman and asked. "Can we get him into the house so I can tend him properly?"

"Y...yes. I got a bed he's been using since he showed up here," she took one last look at the two bodies but had no regrets. These two deserved what they got and she was glad they couldn't hurt the blond anymore.

"Josiah, can you carry Chris inside?" Jackson asked.

Sanchez moved forward and lifted the nude body into his arms. Wilmington stood beside the larger man and watched as Larabee's head was tucked into the ex-preacher's neck. The body seemed to be covered in bruises and scratches. Sunburn ran the length of the lean man except for the area around his buttocks and groin. Buck winced as he thought of the pain caused by minor sunburns. This was one of the worst he'd ever seen. Chris Larabee was in for a long painful recovery from the sunburn alone.

"Which way, Ma'am," Tanner asked.

"Follow me," she ordered as she led them into the house.

Standish and Dunne spotted the man lying in a pool of blood and the two men moved to check on him.

Sanchez, Jackson, Wilmington and Tanner followed the woman into the bedroom. Josiah hurried to the bed and gently placed his burden on the bed. He moved out of the way to give Jackson room to work.

"Have you been putting anything on the sunburn, Ma'am?" the former slave asked.

"I've been using the juice from the Canaigre plant. He's sick, Mr..."

"Jackson, Ma'am, Nathan Jackson," the healer said as he lifted Larabee's eyelids.

"He's pretty sick as well, Mr. Jackson. He can't seem to keep much of anything down and he's got a bad cough and the wound in his arm is infected and he's got bruises and..." she knew she was rambling on, but couldn't stop herself. "I've got more of the Osha roots on the stove," she met the blue eyes of the moustached man. "It tastes bad, but it's good for his cough."

"Is he taking any water?" Jackson asked worriedly. He knew the heat he felt from the body wasn't just from the sunburn, but the fever raging through him as well.

"A little. I've been giving him some of my fruit preserves as well. Made him some chicken broth, but not much stays where he puts it. He tries though..." she mumbled tiredly. She swayed on her feet and would have fallen but for the strong arms of Vin Tanner catching her.

"Ma'am, ya need ta rest," Tanner told her.

"I'm okay. Just let me sit for a spell."

"No, Ma'am, you let Vin help you to your room and lie down. You've done a lot for Chris and we're mighty grateful for everything you done, but now you need to look after yourself," Jackson explained.

She knew the soft spoken man was right and she let the tears fall from his eyes. "You'll wake me if he needs me?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tanner assured her as he lead her from the room.

Jackson continued to check his injured friend. He lifted his head and met the worried gazes of each man. "He's not doin' very well. He's got a high fever, the bullet wound on his arm is still slightly puffy and needs ta be drained again. The cuts and bruises are gonna make him sore, but they'll heal. The sunburn is pretty bad, but she's been doing well. What concerns me right now is getting liquids into him and making them stay there."

"He's gonna be okay though, right, Nathan?" Dunne asked.

"That depends on how much fight he's got left in him. Now there's some things I need."

"Anything, you need you'll get, Mr. Jackson," Standish assured the healer.

"Good. Okay, Josiah."

"Yes, brother."

"Can you see if there's any Aloe plants nearby? I know she's been using the Canaigre, but Aloe is easier."

"I'll get right on it. JD, why don't you come with me?" Sanchez lead the youngest member of the seven out of the room.

"Buck, I think she's got more of the Osha syrup on the stove. Pour a small amount into a cup and change the basin over there."

"Right away, Nate," Wilmington said, only to glad to have something to keep his mind off the shape his friend was in.

"Ezra, can you get my saddlebags?"

"Right away,. Mr. Jackson," Standish hurried from the room as Tanner returned.

"What do ya need me ta do, Nate?" the tracker asked.

"Vin, I need clean water. Some for washing the dirt off him and some for him to drink." Jackson watched the shaggy head bob once as the sharpshooter hurried from the room. He shook his head as he turned back to his patient. A few blisters had formed on his body, especially on his shoulders, which seemed to have taken the brunt of the hot sun. The shape his friend was in told him just how hard a journey he made before finding this woman. He knew she saved Larabee's life and he was grateful. Now the fight was turned over to his hands. Jackson looked down at the steady fingers attached to the strong hands and wondered why he was able to do the things he did. Somehow he knew his father was right when he'd said he had a healer's hands. Now he needed to believe that more than ever.

A weak cough and moan brought his attention back to the figure in the bed. He placed a hand under the hot neck and helped the blond sit forward. He listened to the tortured sounds coming from his friend's chest. He looked up as Wilmington came into the room carrying a cup and a new basin of the Osha liquid.

"Easy, Chris, I got ya," Jackson soothed as he held the lean form upright. "Buck give me that syrup." He saw the tracker and the gambler come through the door. "Vin, I need the water as well," he said as he accepted the syrup from the ladies' man. He knew the syrup would ease the cough, but remembered the awful taste. "Chris, I got somethin' I need ya to drink," the healer ordered.

Larabee felt hands touching him and wondered who the hell they were. He forced his heavy lids to open and looked around the room. His eyes fell on three men standing beside the bed. he turned and caught a glimpse of another man holding him. "N...No!" he rasped. The fever and illness raging through him, coupled with the injuries caused him to see nightmare images instead of the men he considered his friends, his family. Burke's face became Fowler's who in turn changed to Ella Gaines. "B...bastards k...killed them...get away from them!" he cried out and tried to move out of the arms holding him.

"Chris!" Jackson continued to try and get through to the blond, but his words had no effect.

"Chris," Tanner's soft Texas drawl joined the healer's voice as they tried to get through Larabee's delirium. "Come on, Cowboy, it's time ta stop fightin' and let Nathan help ya!"

"No! Get away from them you son of a bitch!" Larabee screamed, his voice harsh in the small room. They could hear the strain on his abused throat as he fought with the former slave. "G...God, B...Buck, they're burnin'. Help them, Buck! Please, God don't let them burn!" he fought with everything his weakened body had. His chest heaved as he struggled to breath.

"Chris, it's okay. I'm here," Wilmington tried, replacing the tracker on the opposite side of the bed. "You're safe."

"Buck! Help me, Buck! Help me get them out!" Larabee hissed through grated teeth. He fought against the hands holding him. The fire raged through the house as he fought to save his wife and son.

"They're out, Chris, they're safe!" Wilmington hated lying to his friend and he prayed he was doing the right thing.

"What's wrong?" they looked up as the woman came back into the room, fear in her eyes as she saw the fighting man on the bed.

"He's delirious!" Jackson explained.

"He doesn't seem to recognize us," Buck told her.

"Let me in there," she ordered and moved into the spot Wilmington vacated. She sat beside the trembling man and listened to his raspy voice as it cried out for the woman in his dreams. "Chris, its Abby. Come on now look at me," she lifted his face until it was even with hers and waited for the eyes to open and focus on hers.

"A...Abby..." he sighed and let her wrap her arms around him.

"That's right, Chris. Your friends are here," she explained.

Larabee swallowed painfully, his throat clenching against the pain. "F...friends."

"Hey, Stud."

Larabee turned and looked at the dark haired man at the end of the bed. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn't quite grasp who he was. Pain lanced through his skull and he clenched his eyes tightly to avoid the spinning room.

"We got ya, Chris."

Larabee looked towards the sound of the voice and his eyes made contact with a dark skinned man with soft brown eyes. Again he felt something familiar, but the memory remained elusive. His eyes moved around the room and fell on a younger man with long hair, again there was no name to match the face. The fourth man was well dressed and Chris thought he must be a dandy.

"W...who are t...they?" he asked as his eyes returned to the silver haired woman.

"They're your friends, Chris," she explained. His eyes were glazed and she knew he didn't understand what she was telling him.

"C...can't r...remember...head h...hurts. Gonna be sick, A...Abby," he felt someone place something in front of him and he cried out as dry heaves racked his body. He lost count of the voices talking to him. His body trembling as they eased something to his mouth and he swallowed automatically. The taste was heavy and he recognized what Abigail was giving him as the Osha syrup. Something replaced it and he swallowed the water gratefully. His head was eased back to the pillows and he looked around the room. His eyes grew heavy and he fought to keep them open. He turned to the woman sitting beside him on the bed and smiled. "T...thanks, Abby," he mumbled as sleep took him once more.

"You fellas wanna tell me who you are?" she asked tiredly.

"You know my name, Ma'am."

"Yes, Mr. Jackson, I do. Who are these other men and how do you know Chris?"

"We're from Four Corners, Ma'am. We were hired by Judge Travis to help keep the peace."

"Four Corners?" her eyes lit up and she looked at the five men in the room and the two that entered. "The Magnificent Seven. Are you telling me you boys are the Magnificent Seven I keep hearing about?"

"Some people call us that," Dunne told her.

"That's JD Dunne, Ma'am. The tall fella in the serape is Josiah Sanchez. The Fella beside him is Ezra Standish. Next to him is Buck Wilmington. The man standing beside ya is Vin Tanner."

"If you're friends of Chris then you're welcome in my home, but if you're lying to me then you'd best leave right now and let me tend to him," Abigail told him.

"We're friends, Ma'am. Josiah, did you find any Aloe?" Jackson asked, all business again.

"We've got plenty, Nathan. It grows in abundance here," Sanchez explained.

"Ezra, hand me my saddlebags," Jackson ordered. He took the bags from the gambler and looked into the face of the woman once more. "Thank you for getting him to drink, Ma'am, but you need to get some rest."

"What are you gonna do to him?" she asked.

"I'm going to put some Aloe on the burns. Drain the wound in his shoulder again and see if we can get him to drink more water."

"I've made some broth for him. You fellas help yourself to whatever you need. Make sure you come get me if he needs anything," Abigail told them. She suddenly realized she knew their names but she hadn't told them hers. "My name is Abigail Newman," she told them.

"Thank you for taking care of Chris, Mrs. Newman," Sanchez said as she stood away from the bed.

"He seemed like a good man when I first saw him. He was already feverish and sick that night," she said sadly. "I did everything I could to help him."

"You did a lot, Ma'am. You used the Canaigre and that's stopped him from blistering badly. The Osha you've been giving him should help his chest," as he talked he pulled the scalpel and bandages from his bag. "You get some rest, Ma'am. I got a feelin' we're gonna need your help with him when he wakes up."

"If you need me before that, come get me," she told them as she left the room. Her eyes wandered to the area where she'd shot and killed a man. The body was gone, and someone had cleaned up the blood. She let a soft sob pass her lips as she headed for her own bedroom. Now that the Sheriff and his men were no longer a threat and Chris Larabee's friends were here she felt the heavy weight of exhaustion on her shoulders. She sank to her bed and slowly cried herself to sleep.

Vin heard the soft sobs from the woman's bedroom and wished he could help her. He knew she was tired, he'd seen it in her expressive eyes. He listened as the sobs turned to soft breathing and he knew she was sleeping. He returned his attention to the man lying on the bed in the room he was standing in. He moved back towards the bed and sat opposite Nathan Jackson. Blue eyes met brown across the bed and the two men worked to make Larabee more comfortable.

Buck placed the basin of hot liquid next at the foot of the bed and watched Jackson cover Larabee's groin area with a towel. He watched the blond's face as a soft sigh escaped his throat. Somehow, even in his sleep, Chris felt his dignity returned to him with the simple gesture from the healer. He looked at Standish and realized the conman had seen the same reaction. The two men smiled as they watched Jackson and Tanner working on the fevered man.

Josiah had also seen the slight movement. He turned to the Bostonian and spoke softly. "How would you like to help me get some supper going, JD?"

"Sure, Josiah," the kid answered, wanting to get his mind off what was happening in the room.

Jackson finished spreading the Aloe over the angry burns and signaled the sharpshooter to turn Larabee on his left side. He smoothed the soothing lotion over the back and legs, thankful there were no new blisters forming. He turned his attention to the wound in the right arm and signalled for Buck and Ezra to join them.

"I'm gonna have ta drain that wound. Ezra, I'll need something to put under him. A towel or another sheet. Anything you can find. Buck, he's weak, but he may jump when I start working on him. I need you to hold his legs and make sure he doesn't move. Vin, you'll have to hold his shoulders and upper body..."

"Will this do, Mr. Jackson?" Standish asked as he returned with a clean towel.

"That'll be perfect, Ez. Help Vin keep Chris on his side while I finish this up. Josiah!" he called and smiled as the ex-preacher immediately poked his head in the door. "I need ya to steep me some Willow bark tea. He's burning up and we gotta get that fever down!"

"It's already steeping, Brother," Sanchez answered and disappeared once more.

"All right, let's get this done. Ez, you got your flask?" Jackson asked.

"Right here, Mr. Jackson." The gambler passed his silver flask and watched as the healer poured some of the whiskey over the scalpel. He smiled inwardly as he realized a short year ago he would have balked at the idea of his finest whiskey use in such a manner. Now he was only to glad he was of some help. He watched as Jackson pressed the scalpel against the swollen flesh and wrinkled his nose as blood and pus seeped from the wound. He felt the body beneath his hands buck and he held on tightly.

Jackson knew he was causing the semiconscious man more pain, but there was nothing else he could do. The wound, if left untended, would fester and cause more problems than it already had. He closed off his emotions until he finished cleaning the bloody pus from the wound. He picked up the gambler's flask and poured it directly into the wound.

"We got ya, Chris," Tanner spoke softly as the green eyes shot open and a weak cry came from his throat.

"S...stop, p...please...s...stop," the blond whispered as Tanner continued to talk to him.

"Almost done, Chris," Jackson said as he wrapped a clean bandage around the wound. He tied it at the back and helped turn Larabee onto his back once more. The fever bright eyes remained open, but were set at half mast. "Sorry, Chris, I know that hurt, but I needed to make sure it's clean. It needs stitches, but I wanna make sure it doesn't need to be drained again before I do that."

"Nathan, I've got the tea," Dunne said as he walked to the bed.

"Thanks, JD," Jackson took the tea from the younger man and turned back to the bed. "Chris, I got somethin' here for you to drink."

"W...where's Abby?" Larabee rasped, he still couldn't remember who these men were. He shivered as he lay on the bed with just the small towel covering his groin area.

"She was tired and went to get some rest," Jackson asked.

"Abby's o...okay?"

"She's fine, Chris. She's sleeping," Tanner said. "You need ta drink what Nate's got fer ya and go ta sleep."

"Need to see A...Abby. S...sheriff's gonna try to k...kill her f...for h...helping me. Need to s...send a t...telegram to F...four Corners." The fever continued to cloud his mind and his memories were jumbled. He had a feeling he should know these men, but something blocked their names.

"Chris, we're here, Pard," Wilmington tried. "We're your friends remember?"

"D...don't know y...you. C...can't seem to t...think straight. So hot," Larabee rasped.

"Drink this, Chris. You've got a fever and we need to get it down. You'll feel much better once you drink this," Jackson held the cup towards the blond.

"M...makes me s...sick."

"We'll just go slow. Come on, Chris." Jackson thought he was going to refuse once more, but the mouth opened slightly and Larabee sipped the Willow Bark tea. It took nearly half an hour to get the half cup of brew into the injured man, but they were glad when he took the last sip.

Chris let his eyes close and knew the familiar strangers in the room were watching him with worried eyes. He felt himself drifting and fought to keep the liquid in his stomach. He knew he was weak and wondered if he'd ever have his strength back. He coughed and tried to roll onto his side. Strong hands clasped his shoulders and eased him onto his left shoulder. "T...thanks," he mumbled. He knew instinctively it was the long haired man who helped him. There was something about him he trusted. He coughed and held his arms to his chest as someone washed the sweat from his brow.

Buck watched his friend as Jackson washed the perspiration from his brow. He knew the healer was doing all he could, but the blond's memory loss worried him. He stood away from the bed and left the room. He knew the horses needed to be taken care of and smiled as the gambler joined him.

Tanner saw the abrasion on his friend's neck and realized a rope could only have made it. He knew sometime during the last few days Larabee had felt a rope pulled tight around his throat. He clenched his fists in anger and frustration as he watched the healer tend the blond's injuries.

Abby woke to weak cries coming from the other bedroom. She jumped from her bed, startled to see a large man standing in her door.

"Ma'am, we could use your help," Sanchez said softly.

It took a few more seconds for her mind to catch up to the rest of her wide awake body. She looked down at the dress she'd worn earlier and realized she'd been so tired she didn't bother to undress. "Chris?" she asked as she hurried past him.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sanchez said as he followed her into the room.

Abigail moved to the bed where the sick man was trying to get away from the dark skinned man and the long haired man. She could hear his hoarse voice calling for Sarah again and knew his fever was sending him into the past once more. As she'd done before she slid onto the bed and lifted his head onto her lap. "Chris?" she whispered.

"S...Sarah, Buck, help her. H...help, A...Adam. C...can't s...save t...them...to h...hot. God...dammit...Fowler...you k...killed them. M...murderin' son of a bitch...K...kill you....b...bare hands."

She knew he was forcing the words past his tortured throat and rocked him gently in her arms. "Come on, Chris, its Abby."

"H...hot...b...burns. C...can't s...save them. M...my fault," he gasped as he struggled feebly.

"It's not your fault, Chris, it never was," Wilmington tried to get through to his friend. "Sarah and Adam wouldn't want you blaming yourself for what happened."

"Your friend is right, Chris. It wasn't your fault," Abigail soothed.

"NO! Oh, God, they can't get out! He's b...burning them alive. I h...hear them s...screaming," his hands came up to his ears as he tried to drown out their tortured cries.

Tanner slid in beside the woman and took the gunslinger's hands from his ears. He wasn't expecting Larabee's reaction and ended up on the floor as the blond conjured up more strength than they thought possible and shoved him away.

"Y...you," Larabee didn't see Vin Tanner anymore. All he saw was Cletus Fowler as he stood framed in fire. "Y...you murdered them!" He pulled away from the soft hands holding him and threw himself at the man he hated above all else. "K...kill you f...for what you've done!" his fingers wrapped around the sharpshooter's throat before the others had a chance to react. Strong hands clasped his blistered shoulders, but he fought with animalistic strength. Nothing else mattered to his fevered brain but vengeance against the man who'd taken so much from him. His fingers tightened and the drumming in his ears intensified. A voice cut through his fevered mind. Not so much the voice, but the word he used.

"I... it's me, Cow...boy," Tanner squeezed out, amazed at the strength in the hands cutting off his air. He felt the fingers loosen slightly and sucked in air.

Larabee frowned as the face below him blurred. "N...not, Cow...boy," he hissed.

"Let him go, Chris."

Larabee released his hold and looked into the face of the woman who helped him when he stumbled into her yard. "Abby, not a cow...boy," he said as he sank to the floor beside her.

"Nathan?" Wilmington cried as his friend collapsed.

Jackson felt the bruised neck as Tanner sat up beside them. "He's still with us. Vin, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the sharpshooter assured the healer.

"Ezra, Josiah, help me get him back on the bed," the former slave ordered of the two men closest to him. The two men helped lift the unconscious blond back into bed. Jackson covered him in the thin sheet and blanket and felt his friend's forehead. The heat was still there, but didn't seem as pronounced.

"I'll sit with him for a while, Mr. Jackson," Abigail said. "You boys look like you could use some rest."

"Thank you, Ma'am. Vin, let me take a look at your neck," the dark skinned man ordered.

Tanner was about to balk at the idea, but thought better of it. He tilted his head back while Jackson examined his neck for serious trouble. Jackson could see the clear imprint of a thumb on the tracker's neck, but his breathing sounded normal.

"All right, Vin, you just make sure you tell me if you have any problem breathing. Drink as much cool water as you can to keep the swelling down. I don't think he did any serious damage, but I want you to take it easy."

"I will, Nate," the Texan drawled.

"There's plenty of extra blankets and pillows in the chest at the foot of my bed. I'll wake you if he needs anything otherwise I'll wake one of you in four hours," Abigail told them.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Jackson smiled as he lead the six men from the room.

"Maybe one of us should stay with her," Wilmington said as they walked into the outer room.

"She's got him this far, Buck. I have a feeling that woman can be quite formidable when she wants too," Sanchez said, admiration apparent in his voice and eyes. "She'll come get us if she needs us."

"Josiah's right, Buck. It's late and we're all tired. Mrs. Newman will call us if she needs us," Jackson assured them. He stretched his back and felt the pull on his spine as he did so. He looked towards the second bedroom and walked towards the open door. It wasn't long before blankets were spread on the floor and the six peacekeepers lay down to rest.

Abigail watched as the tired green eyes opened and looked around. She waited for Larabee to finish his search and look at her. When his eyes finally met her own she smiled at him. "How do you feel?" she asked softly, not wanting to disturb the men in the other room.

"H...hot...thirsty," he gagged against the dryness in his throat and coughed harshly.

"I've got more of the Osha syrup for you," she explained as his eyes watered. She knew how much the coughing hurt him and eased him forward.

Chris drank the small amount of syrup and gratefully accepted the glass of water. He drank slowly, knowing if he went to fast he'd lose it as quickly as he drank it. Once he finished the water he smiled at the woman he owed his life to. "T...thanks," he mumbled.

"I should be thanking you, Son, you saved my life..."

"N...nearly cost you your life w...when I c...came h...here. S...should've k...known Burke w...would f...find me h...here and blame y...you."

"Burke would've come out here anyway. We never did see eye to eye. Him and his men broke more laws than they kept while they ran Haven. Now maybe that town can be the place Will and I were once proud of."

"From what I saw there wasn't much ta be proud of."

Abigail looked to the door and smiled at the longhaired man standing there. "You're probably right there, Mr. Tanner, but now Burke's out of the way we just might get some real law in Haven. Maybe that Judge Travis you told me about could find someone to become sheriff in Haven. I'm sure the people in town are ready for some real law."

"Burke and his men k...killed a lot of people, V...Vin," Larabee rasped.

"Chris? Ya know who I am?"

"Of course I do. Who else gets away with calling me Cowboy?" Larabee smiled weakly at his friend. "G...gonna shot you for t...that someday."

"I'll leave you boys to talk," Abigail said. "Chris?" She waited for him to look at her again. "Feel up to some broth?"

"Think so," Larabee told her.

"Mr. Tanner, can I get you some coffee?"

"Yes please, Ma'am," Tanner said as he slid into the chair the woman vacated. "had me worried there for a while, Cowboy," the sharpshooter grinned as Larabee tried to look fierce. "Sorry, Chris, it ain't workin'. You look like yer blushin' from head ta foot."

"Shut up, Vin," Larabee smiled in spite of the pull it caused to his healing skin. He saw the thumb shaped bruise on Tanner's throat and reached up to touch it. "S...sorry," he muttered tiredly.

"Ain't nothin' ta be sorry for. Ya weren't yerself when this happened. Hell ya didn't even know it was me."

"Thought you were Fowler. I w...wanted to strangle the life from you."

Tanner rubbed at his throat. "Good thing ya were so weak or I'd probably have a permanent Larabee choker around my--"

"Scrawny neck," Larabee finished. The two men smiled and felt the silence stretch out.

"Thought ya were dead, Chris. Young feller in town told us the sheriff hung ya?"

Larabee's eyes met the trackers as he spoke, "he was going to, Vin. The son of a bitch framed me for murder and convinced the people in Haven they shouldn't wait for Judge Wilcox. I don't know if he knew Wilcox died three or four years ago, but I think maybe he did and that's why he wouldn't wait for the judge. Wilcox was a hard man, but he was fair. He'd've sent the telegram to you guys and Judge Travis to verify my story. Burke couldn't afford to take that chance. He needed the murderer dead and I was the quickest method to do that," Larabee coughed again and turned onto his right side. He grimaced as his arm came in contact with the bed, but remained in that position.

"How're you feeling, Chris?" Jackson asked as he joined the two men in the room.

Larabee forced a weak imitation of his cocky grin to his face and spoke softly. "I'm fine, Nathan." He was rewarded by Jackson's smile and knew the healer appreciated his attempt at humor.

"Glad to hear it," Jackson smiled as Tanner moved out of the way so he could examine his patient. He placed a hand on the blond's forehead and smiled. "Temperature's coming down a bit. Any pain?"

"I'm f...fine," Larabee hissed as Jackson examined the broken blisters on his shoulders.

"Now, Son, you need to be honest with Mr. Jackson. He can't do his job if he doesn't know the truth," Abigail warned.

Larabee couldn't help but smile at the woman. "S...sorry," he mumbled.

"Well?" Jackson asked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Hell..."

"Chris!"

"Sorry, Abby," he apologized, glad his sunburned skin would hide the heated flush he felt rising to his cheeks. He scowled as Jackson and Tanner exchanged sly smiles. He knew he'd never hear the end of this.

"Now how's the pain?" Abigail asked.

"It's not good right now," he answered sheepishly.

"I've got some laudanum for you, Chris. It should help," Jackson explained as he readied a mild dose of the drug. He held it in front of the blond and watched as he grudgingly took it.

"Okay, Son, it's time for you to have some broth," she sat in the chair and went to feed him.

"I can do it myself," he rasped.

"Yeah, you probably could, but if you spilled it we'd have to change the sheets and I don't have any clean ones. Now you don't want these old hands to have to wash linen at this hour of the night do you?" Tanner and Jackson watched in amazement as the woman chose the perfect words to ensure Larabee's cooperation.

Chris drank the broth and eased back on the pillows. He felt a cloth wash over his face and mumbled thanks. He slowly drifted towards sleep as Jackson changed the Osha water. The cough was slowly easing, but the healer wanted to make sure he kept on top of everything. He felt the forehead again before turning to meet the tracker's worried eyes.

"The fever's coming down, Vin. It's not gone, but it's getting better. I'm gonna put the stitches in his arm tomorrow."

"I'm gonna sit with him for a while, Nathan. Mrs. Newman, ya look like ya could use some rest as well."

"You saying I look my age, Mr. Tanner?" she asked and laughed at the blush that rose to his cheeks.

"Ah, no, Ma'am, that ain't what I m...meant at all," the sharpshooter stammered.

"It's okay, Mr. Tanner. I know how I must look. I'm going to follow my own advice and sleep for the next ten hours or so. You boys help yourselves to anything you need."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Jackson watched the woman leave the room. He could see Wilmington, Standish, Sanchez and Dunne watching them and knew they'd been awake the whole time.

"Vin's taking the first shift. The rest of you get on back to bed or none of us'll be able to relieve him," Jackson ordered.

Buck was the last to turn away. His eyes met those of the tracker and he smiled. There was no one else he'd rather entrust with Chris Larabee's care than the man seated beside the back. Watch his back, Vin, he thought as he walked back to his makeshift bed.

Larabee opened his eyes and groaned as his skin tingled. He felt someone gently rubbing something into his skin and he watched the woman seated beside the bed. She didn't seem to know he was awake and he studied her face. There were few wrinkles present and again he saw the beauty in the calm face. He couldn't suppress the groan as her hands came in contact with the blistered area of his shoulders.

"Sorry, Son, I'm almost done."

"It's okay. Just wasn't ready for it." His voice was still raspy and she knew he was far from well. Despite the diminishing fever he was still shivering and she knew it would be a long time before the heat of the sunburn left his body.

"Would you like some water?" she asked.

"Y...yeah," he groaned as he tried to pull himself up in the bed.

"You really are a stubborn man," she said in exasperation.

"Is he giving you any trouble, Mrs. Newman?" Wilmington asked, a smile on his face as he crossed the distance from the door.

"Is he always too stubborn to ask for help."

"Stubborn. Mule headed..." he looked at the two people as they laughed. "What'd I miss?"

"I know why Chris and I get along so well. My Will used to call me stubborn and mule headed," Abigail laughed.

"You're a wonderful lady, Abby," Larabee told her.

"That may be, but you're still stubborn." She passed the glass to him and watched him slowly sip the water.

"Thanks," he said as he passed it back.

"You're welcome. Feel up to eating anything?"

"Broth?" he asked disinterestedly.

"What about some fruit. I've got a couple of jars of fruit in the cupboard. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great," Larabee answered as Jackson, Sanchez and Standish entered the room.

"Chris, I need to put stitches into that shoulder."

"Hell, Nathan..."

"I heard that," Abigail's voice came from the other room.

"Sorry," Larabee apologized and shook his head.

"Okay, Chris, I've got some laudanum here for you and some Willow Bark tea. You've nearly got this fever beaten, but I want to make sure it doesn't come back."

The gunslinger took the laudanum and sipped at the tea. He knew what was coming and tried to make the tea last as long as he could. The cup was removed as soon as he took the final sip.

"Alright, Chris, I need you on your left side. Buck, Josiah, I need you to hold him still for me. Ezra, stay close in case I need you."

"I shall remain in this position, Mr. Jackson."

"Ez?"

"Yes, Mr Larabee," Standish asked.

"Got your flask?"

"Yes, he does, but you're not getting any. Okay, Chris, I'm all set."

Wilmington and Sanchez held him on his left side and watched as Jackson put in stitch after stitch. They could feel the lean body shaking under their hands, but the man held his position.

Chris stayed on his side, breathing heavily, trying to suppress the cough he felt building in his chest. He knew he had to remain still as the needle bit into his tender flesh. He bit his cracked lip and tasted blood in his mouth. He could hear Sanchez, Wilmington and Standish talking to him, but couldn't understand their words. All he knew was the agony of the needle as again and again it sank into his shoulder.

"That's it, Chris. All done," Jackson said as he took the clean bandage from the conman. "Mrs. Newman is here with your breakfast. So, you feel up to eating it?"

Larabee trembled as they turned him onto his back. His stomach churned and he felt the water he drank earlier come up in his throat. His eyes opened wide as pain lanced through his chest. He sat forward as the basin was placed before him and he vomited into the clean bowl.

"N...not right now, Nate," he finally answered as he lay back in the bed. He drifted towards sleep as the laudanum finally took the edge off the pain.

"Let him sleep," Jackson ordered and motioned everyone out of the room.

For the next seventy-two hours Chris Larabee continued to sleep most of the time. He'd wake long enough to eat, drink, take whatever they forced on him and slowly drift back to sleep.

The six men and one woman tended his every need. They cooled him down when his fever returned. They fed him when he was too weak to do it himself. They talked to him and soothed his nightmares when they returned to haunt him.

On the morning of the fourth day since Jackson put the stitches in his arm Chris opened his eyes to bright morning sunlight shining through the window. He looked at the chair beside his bed, not surprised to see a pair of blue eyes looking at him.

"Mornin', Cowboy," Tanner greeted his friend, glad to see the green eyes were lucid for the first time in days.

"Vin? How'd you get here?" he asked confusedly.

"We got in six days ago, Chris. Ya've been pretty out of it most of the time. How do ya feel?"

"Tired. Weak as a new born pony. Vin, Pony?"

"Relax, he's back in Four Corners. Yosemite's probably spoilin' him."

Larabee's eyebrows narrowed as he asked, "how'd he get back there?"

"Kid by the name of Jamie Warren found him caught in some brush. He took him home ta his father and they came ta Four Corners for supplies. He showed me where he found Pony and his father told us about the town of Haven."

"I never want to see that town again," Larabee mused.

"I can understand that. The people there weren't real friendly. We did get some help from a fella who couldn't talk. JD used some kinda hand signals and we found out the sheriff arrested ya. Thought we was too late when he said they took ya out ta the hangin' tree."

"Thought I was gonna die there, Vin. I knew I had to get away or they'd kill me," Larabee coughed and held his hands to his chest. It still hurt, but not the same type of knifing pain it was before. His arm felt stiff, but also lacked the throbbing pain. He could see skin peeling off his arms and chest and rubbed his fingers against it.

"No scratching, Chris," Tanner warned.

"Damn chest is itching."

"I heard that, Son," Abigail smiled as she joined the two men in the room.

"Well it is," Larabee returned her smile. He owed his life to this woman and knew he'd never be able to repay that debt.

"That may be, but you're still not allowed to scratch at it. Relax for a few minutes and I'll put some more Aloe on it. That should help."

"Better do as she says, Cowboy. I think she's stronger than you are," Tanner grinned at his friend.

"You got that right, Mr. Tanner. I can whip him good if he misbehaves. Now you get on out with the others and eat breakfast before the others eat it all."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tanner smiled. "She makes the best flapjacks."

"Bring me a stack, Tanner," Larabee ordered sharply.

"You're not getting any flap jacks just yet, Chris. As soon as I'm done with this I'll get you some broth and a little peppermint tea."

"Rather have the..."

"Flapjacks. I hear ya, but the answer is still no."

"You're as bad as Nathan!"

"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."

"Shoot!"

"No gun, sorry," she shrugged her shoulders, smiled and pulled back the blanket. She spread the aloe over his rough skin and smiled at the young man who meant so much to her. She owed him her life and that was a debt she'd never be able to repay. For now she would have to be content with helping him get his strength back.

A week passed before Chris Larabee was strong enough to get out of bed. he was eating real food now and agreed with the other men that Abigail Newman was the best cook in country. They made her blush with their praise, and each man saw the beauty hidden behind her age. This was a woman who'd lived most of her life in the west, buried her husband and watched her sons leave to lead their own lives.

It was late in the evening and Chris was lying in the bed. Josiah, JD, and Buck had left for Four Corners earlier that day. They'd be stopping by Haven to let the townspeople know they'd be needing a new sheriff and offer to have Judge Travis contact them about getting real law into the town.

Chris heard the front door open and knew who it was. He slid his legs over the edge of the bed. Most of the dry skin was gone now, leaving in its place new pink skin. Nathan still insisted they rub Aloe into it in spite of Chris grousing that his skin was soft like a woman. This brought a smile to Abigail's face and he knew he was being mule headed again. He reached for the pair of blue jeans and pulled them on. They were a little big for him, but a belt kept them on his slender hips. He pulled on the soft flannel shirt, but left the buttons undone. Both items belonged to Will Newman, but Abigail insisted he have them. He slowly made his way out of the room, stepping lightly so as not to awaken the others. He knew Tanner was awake in spite of the darkness. He raised his hand to his mouth in an effort to tell the tracker to be quiet.

Chris opened the door and stepped onto the porch. He heard soft sobs from the swing and moved to sit beside the woman. He reached out and wrapped his left arm around her, drawing her close in the cool night air. He felt her hand reach out and clasp his right one softly.

"Thank you, Chris," she whispered.

"Anytime, Abby. Feel like telling me what's wrong?" He waited patiently, knowing she'd talk if that's what she felt like doing. He was a private man and respected when others felt the same way.

"We would've been married forty three years today. Will loved this house and he carried me over the threshold each and every year on this date. It may seem like a silly thing, but for me it was one of the things he did to show his love. He was a quiet man and rarely put his feelings into words. It was the little things he'd do that showed me just how much he cared for me," she sighed and felt his hand wipe the tears from her eyes. "We shared a cup of tea in this swing every night before he died. Even when the kids were young this was our special time. We'd come out here and just gaze at the stars. Sometimes we'd talk, but most times we just sat together. That tiny Rose bush came with us when we moved her. Will laughed and said it was a puny thing and would never survive, but it did and blooms every year. The most perfect red roses you ever want to see. I put them on Will's grave every year." Again she went quiet and he thought she was finished, but her next words were whispered in the same soft tone. "We talked about our dreams and the dreams we had for our kids. We saw those dreams come true, Chris, and now I miss him so much. I'm so tired of being alone out here. I want to join my Will."

Chris heard the wistful sigh in her voice and felt her body go rigid in his arms. There was no warning, but he knew Abigail Wilson had just been granted her wish. He felt her head roll gently on his shoulder and felt the tears flow from his eyes. He sat in the swing, holding the woman close, as a falling star streaked across the sky. "You found him, didn't you, Abby?" he asked softly.

The chill seeped into his body and still he held his guardian angel in the protection of his arms. He looked at the two cups of tea cooling on the porch rail and felt the tremors rack his body. He knew in his heart she was happy now and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "Goodbye, Abigail Newman, thank you for my life," he whispered.

"Chris?"

Larabee looked up to see the sharpshooter standing in the open door. "She's gone, Vin," he said simply.

"Who? What?"

"Abby's gone. She's dead," Larabee's voice trembled with sorrow as he held her tight against him.

"Hang on, Chris. I'll get Nathan."

"He can't help her, Vin. She's where she wanted to be now."

"Chris, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was her wish. This was their anniversary and she was ready to go. I'm gonna put her in her bed till we bury her." Larabee stood up and reached for the woman. He lifted her into his arms, feeling the tears flow from his eyes once more. He ignored the pain in his body as his strength ebbed, but this was one thing he could do for Abigail Newman and he was going to see it through. "I may not be Will, Abby, but I can carry you over the threshold one last time," he said as he walked on unsteady legs into the house, past the two men sitting on the floor and into her room. He placed her on the bed and kissed her forehead once more.

"Chris, are you alright?"

The blond turned to see his friends standing in the doorway. He knew the tears were still flowing from his eyes, but it didn't matter if they saw them. He was tired, weak and in pain, but he needed to take care of things for this woman. "I'm f...fine," he stammered and stepped towards the door. His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. He swallowed, painfully aware of the others watching him.

"We'll take care of her, Chris. You need to lie down for a while," Jackson warned. He could see how pale the man was going.

"No, Nathan. I need to do this. You have to understand. For her. I have to."

"You will, Chris, but first you'll rest. Vin and Ezra can take care of most of the arrangements. You rest until daylight and we'll make sure you're with us when she's laid to rest."

"I assure you, Chris, we'll find the perfect resting place for the wonderful lady," Standish assured him.

"Thanks, Ezra," Larabee said as the tracker pulled him to his feet. He couldn't find the energy to argue anymore. Every ounce of his strength was used in putting one foot in front of the other. He didn't feel them ease his body to the bed or the removal of his clothes. He shivered as the blankets were drawn up over his body. He was lifted forward and something warm was pressed to his lips. He drank the warm tea not tasting the laudanum Nathan laced it with. He felt detached from what happened, yet he knew from experience that he'd more than make up for it when he woke up. His eyes drifted shut and he slept.

Chris lay back against the pillows and kept his eyes closed. Abigail Newman's smiling face was all he could see. Her dry wit and easy charm made him feel warm inside. She'd helped him heal and would forever be a part of him. He opened his eyes and knew he was alone in the room. The sun shining through the window told him he'd slept longer than he planned. He remembered little about the night before except carrying Abby to her bed and saying goodbye.

He sat forward in the bed and slid his legs over the side. The pain was still there, but it was overshadowed by the sadness in his heart. He reached for the jeans and pulled them on. The flannel shirt soon followed and his trembling fingers buttoned it. He pulled on a pair of wool socks and found the soft moccasins Abigail had given him the day before. He looked at the intricate detail and traced the lines with his finger. These were a gift he'd always have to remind him of this precious woman. He heard footsteps and looked up to see Vin Tanner enter the room. He forced his emotions aside and pulled the moccasins on his feet.

"How are ya feein'?" the sharpshooter asked softly.

"I'm okay, Vin. Did you guys find a place for A...Abby?"

"There's a grave up on the hill. It's shaded by trees an' surrounded by the purtiest wildflowers you ever saw, Chris. There's a fence around it and it looks like she's been tendin' it since he was put there. There's a cross there says William Newman."

"He was her husband. We'll bury her next to him."

"Ezra and me already dug it."

Larabee swallowed deeply, holding his body rigid as he stood up. "Show me where it is, Vin."

Tanner watched his friend and in spite of the blank look on the gunslinger's face, knew he was keeping it all inside. He stood up and walked out of the room, knowing the lean blond would want to see her final resting place.

As the sun began its final journey down the sky four men stood beside a newly covered grave. The pale blond held two red roses in his hand as he watched Tanner drive the cross into the ground beside its twin. He read the words carved into the cross, words he'd placed there himself.

Abigail Newman
Beloved wife
Cherished mother
Guardian angel

Larabee swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to form his thoughts into words. "Lord, I know I don't have a right to ask, but I'm gonna ask anyway. Abigail Newman is in your hands now and I'd appreciate it if you took good care of her. She's probably with her Will now and I know they'll be happy together. I'm not much for words, but I want to thank you for giving me the chance to know her. She's a good woman, Lord, and deserves happiness. T...take care of her..." his voice trailed off as he knelt between the two graves. He placed a rose on each and silently said his final goodbye to the woman who saved his life. Tears formed in his eyes and he did nothing to stop them. He felt no shame at showing this side of himself. He had no idea how long he knelt there, but a hand on his shoulder told him it was time to go.

"Thank you, Abby," he whispered as he stood up and lead the others away from the graves.

They stayed at Abigail's farm for two more days. Jackson wanted them to wait a little longer and give the gunslinger more time to regain his strength, but Larabee refused.

Chris spent the two days searching through the piles of letters in a small box he'd found in her closet. He found two letters and knew they were from her sons. He sat up half the night forming his thoughts into words and putting them on paper. He explained to both men how their mother died peacefully and that he'd buried her beside their father. He told them she was his hero and how she'd saved his life. He called her his Guardian Angel and told them he'd forever be grateful for the kindness she'd shown a complete stranger. He sealed the identical letters in envelopes and addressed them to William Newman Jr. and Paul Newman. He would telegram them from Haven before leaving for Four Corners and tell them about her death, but the letters were his way of making it seem more personal.

"Are you ready ta go, Chris?"

Larabee looked up from the letters to see Vin Tanner standing in the door. "I'm fine, Vin.. Where're Ezra and Nathan?"

"Outside with the horses. Nathan says if'n yer not out in two minutes he's gonna make us stay 'ere fer another two or three days." The tracker smiled as his friend hurried out the door. He knew Larabee had good memories of this house, but it was also a reminder of another loss in his life. He followed the gunslinger out the door and closed it softly behind him. He stopped and shook his head as Abigail's soft voice seemed to float on the wind.

Take care of him, Mr. Tanner!

I will! he thought as he moved to follow the others. Chris was already mounted on the sheriff's horse and was looking towards the hill. Tanner knew he couldn't see the graves from here, but he had a feeling Larabee was saying goodbye once more.

"Take care of her, Will," he whispered and somehow knew the man was doing just that. He smiled at the thought of Will carrying Abby over a new threshold. He sighed heavily and knew someday he'd be doing the same thing with Sarah and Adam. Until then he was content to be part of the family formed by the six men he rode with. A silent tear slipped from his eyes and he smiled as he turned the unfamiliar horse away from the small farm. They'd make sure someone from town looked after the animals until Abby's sons made the final arrangements.

"You ready, Chris?" Jackson asked.

Larabee smiled and pushed his black hat down over his eyes. He'd been shocked when Standish came back from Haven the day before with his clothes, gun belt and hat. Standish had gone to telegram Josiah and the others they'd be leaving for home the next day. His colt was resting in its holster and he felt whole once more. A cocky grin spread over his face as he said, "Let's ride!"

The three men with him smiled and followed the man away from the farm. They knew he'd have good and bad memories of his time here, but the healing was on the way and The Magnificent Seven were whole once more.

THE END