A Snowball's Chance by Walter Carmichael

I

As the sun set low in the horizon he tipped his hat down. This was not going to be easy. He'd sent Vin and Buck ahead to scout things out but neither one had returned. Something smelled rotten. He had sent word for the rest of the boys to come but that would take another day maybe two. Meanwhile there was no telling what could happen to his two friends. Feeling the tension continue to mount he nudged his horse onward. As he arrived in town everything seemed perfectly normal. Then again, wasn't that normally the way things were until visitors started asking questions? So many things just didn't add up. Why had Chris gotten a letter from a total stranger requesting help? Why had Vin and Buck not come back? What was it about this town that made his hair stand on end? After all it did seem quiet enough. Some might say too quiet, but Chris didn't think so. In fact he was beginning to feel that it was merely his imagination. Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, the saloon. That would have been where they had started. That or the local brothel though Vin didn't really seem the type. As for Buck, well that was another matter. Buck was always another matter. He tied his horse by the trough next to the saloon and walked inside carefully watching the shadows grow longer as night began to set in.

Perhaps he should have waited until morning, but then, he might already be too late. It had been two days since they had gone to scout ahead. Scanning his eyes around the saloon he saw no one he knew, and no one that stood out of place. This could get ugly fast he thought. Walking up to the bartender he ordered a shot of whiskey and sat down. Not asking questions tended to draw attention on occasion so he thought he would just play it real quiet. He was beginning to think that his method was simply not going to work when he heard a voice say, "You're in my chair, Larabee." He swiveled around quickly, realizing that someone unknown to him knew who he was. Before him stood a man no taller than 5'6" but wide as an ox. His face was red as though he had been out in the sun for too long and his voice was slurred so badly it was obvious that he had been smoking something fairly strong and mind-altering.

"I got no quarrel with you," Chris said, not wanting to let on that he had no idea who had addressed him.

"Well now that mebbee," came the response, "but I sure as hell got one with you." The last part was unintelligible but Chris had a good enough idea to guess what was being said. After all he had been in more than his share of saloons and fights.

"Where would you rather I sat?" He asked calmly noting that every other seat in the bar was full, and everyone in them was facing him and the man in the doorway.

"In Hell." The man screamed as he reached for his gun. Chris reacted and had his out in a flash. Unfortunately so did the bartender.

"You two, both of you, git out. If you have a problem settle it elsewhere. I got no room in the place for two corpses and no time to clean the floor up from your blood. Either simmer down, or fire your guns, don't make no difference to me but you're gonna do it outside." Chris looked over at the shotgun and realized that while he hadn't started trouble he was obviously on the wrong end of the bartender's attitude. He didn't lower his gun until the other man did though. Then he walked out. As he reached the door he heard the bartender mumble something about how strangers are always causing trouble. He might have thought more about it had the stranger who had come in for him not still been on his mind. He looked around for him but saw no one. Absolutely no one was on the streets. Now he was nervous. Generally speaking, it was not a good sign when the only thing you saw on the street was a solitary tumbleweed and a few horses. With his hand on his hip he took a seat in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. For now, Vin and Buck would have to wait. Chris could do them no good if he were dead. An hour passed and Chris sat watching the last bits of light disappear and darkness set in. Eventually he decided that he could no longer just sit and wait. He needed to get a room. He headed over to the boarding house to get settled in.

Ten minutes later he was in his room laying still with the lights off. In the distance he heard the sounds of several lively poker games and a few drunken men wobbling down the streets with their new female acquaintances. Everything seemed to have quieted down though Chris was still edgy. Who was this guy? What was his beef with Chris? Where in tarnation were his two friends? He'd overheard a deputy telling someone about how the jail was empty for the first time in weeks. He had wanted to ask the lawman about this but as if to prove the man's statement wrong, a bar-fight had started and Chris had decided it best to seek shelter upstairs in his room. After all, it wasn't his fight and he didn't need any more trouble than he felt like he had. As he curled up amidst the bedbugs listening to the moans next door he wondered why he had answered an anonymous letter. After all, Mary had been awfully suspicious due to what she suspected was a female's handwriting.

II

He awoke the next morning and felt a sharp pain in his forehead as he attempted to sit up. He collapsed realizing he had bumped against something. A trickle of red liquid began to flow down his forehead as he looked up. Through his blurred vision he saw something that caught him by surprise. "Aw shit!" he exclaimed as he rolled to the side and wiped the blood from his eye. He rolled onto the floor and carefully stood up. There in the headboard was a bowie knife with a note attached. "Next time, this will be your head." He ran his hands through his hair, put on his hat and as he turned something outside his window caught his eye. "Damn you Josiah," he thought as he saw the crow perched outside on the balcony. "Today ain't my time though." He opened the door and walked down the stairs to the main room where very little activity was occurring. After eating some breakfast he rubbed his chin and decided to set out for the sheriff's office.

"Can I help you stranger?"

"Maybe. I'm looking for two of my friends. They were supposed to meet me here so we could travel to Tombstone together."

"Prospectors?"

"Something like that." He said keeping a somber face. After giving him a brief description of Vin and Buck he watched the sheriff shake his head and give him an answer he hadn't wanted to see. "Thanks anyway" He turned and walked out into the street where the sun began to beat down on him. I'm getting nowhere.

"You!" The husky voice called from down street. There he was with the sun in his eyes Chris reached towards his gun. The other man didn't move. Chris felt a thud on the back of his head and he went down.

III

He awoke tied to a bed. It looked like his room but he couldn't be sure as most of them looked the same. He tried to sit up but realized that he was tied to the posts. Ah, hell! he thought. This has just been a shitty day.

"You just don't know when to leave town." A skinny man with a Remington 1871 rifle sneered.

"What is you want with me," he asked gritting his teeth.

"Not me, no sir!" He replied. "Nope if'n you're here on my account I'da just shoved the knife in yer gullet and been done with it."

"Well at least then I wouldn't be able to kill you with my bare hands when I get out." There really wasn't any way Chris could get loose and he knew it. Whoever had tied the ropes had done a good job. As he struggled to get loose he felt the pain in his wrists grow more intense. They were going to burn for a while once he got out of here. If I get out of here, a voice in his head said. Then he felt it, his whole arm began to throb. He'd dislocated his wrist. He bit his tongue to hold in the yelp but his faced contorted into a foul grimace anyway. He felt the coppery fluid begin to fill his mouth as it flowed from his tongue. The skinny man turned and walked over the far corner where the chamber pot was. As he wiggled his wrist out of the loop he reached for his knife. The clanging of the pot was loud enough that he was able to untie his other wrist without drawing attention. Sitting up quickly he pulled off his boots and slid off the bed. He walked over to the guard and punched him into the wall from behind. He hit the wall with a thud and slumped over. Grabbing a knife from the hunched over figure he cut his boots loose and threw them back on. Grabbing the rifle he slid over to the door and listened. He heard footsteps approaching and backed up. Cocking the rifle he waited. Slowly, the door opened

IV

"Damn Vin," said Buck, "what the hell you doin'? We been in this damn wagon for five days now and you ain't said a damn thing."

"I been thinkin'. The boys we ran into that nailed us. I've seen'em before. I just can't remember where."

"You mean you know'em?"

"No not exactly, I just know something about'em looked familiar. I can't recall why though."

"What? The gruff expression and the quick draw holsters?"

"No you ornery cuss. Something about their clothing?"

"Well you know they all wore pants." Vin reached out to throttle him but the chains around his arms held him back.

"You know you'd think you'd remember being in chains after three days."

"Aw hell Buck, just shut-up!" At that point the wagon came to a stop and after a moment three men stepped in. One carried a Winchester. The other two appeared to be unarmed. Releasing their chins from the wagon, they were drug from the wagon into the night air. "I'll be damned," Vin muttered.

"Shut your mouth!" grunted one of the men. They were put on horseback and led to what appeared to be a small house on the outskirts of town. Inside was dark and one of the men lit an oil lamp so they could see where they were going. They were thrown into a room and chained to the walls. At that point they were left alone. As they heard the footsteps fade away Vin looked at Buck and said, "I know where we are and who has us. The only question is why?"

"So, where are we, then?"

"Tombstone."

"Aw hell," said Buck.

V

"Josiah," yelled Nathan as he burst in to the church.

"Son, this a house of God, take off your hat and lower your voice."

"My apologies," he said looking upward. "We ain't got a lot of time though. I just got a wire from Chris. Vin and Buck gone and disappeared."

"He check the brothel, and the saloon?" A shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Damn Josiah, this serious." Chris ain't seen'em in three days. He wants us to come help him find'em."

"Allright, I'm coming," he said the grin leaving his face. A thought of concern ran through his head. They could take care of themselves but wasn't like them to up and disappear. "I'll go rescue the sinner, you find the boy." Another smile crossed both of their faces at that.

"On my way." Nathan turned and left.

A few moments later Josiah stood at the bar of Standish Tavern watching his friend play cards. "Whiskey," he told Inez. She smiled at him and handed him a glass.

"Not to fast now preacher. You can't fight all the demons at once."

"Maybe not he grinned but I'm about to go punish one." His eyes shot to Ezra and she laughed. He smiled and excused himself, walking over to the table.

"Ezra, haven't I told you that the road to salvation isn't through cards."

"Don't give me religion now preacher-man. Can't you see I am freeing these men of their earthly belongings so they can better understand your ramblings."

"I thank you for your spiritual endeavor," he replied smugly, "but your drunken nature implies that you are in fact actually trying to simply steal their money."

"Steal! Steal! You imply that I am not playing fairly then?"

"No, merely that you have yet to make an offering of your time to God's calling recently. And you, sir, are being called." Josiah stared at him with a sense of urgency that made what was left of the alcohol in Ezra's system lose its effect.

"Gentlemen, if you will excuse me. I believe that I must take my leave of you. Apparently the religion has gotten hold of me and I attend to its calling else I should be cast into Hell with this demon." He looked at Josiah and smirked. Tired of waiting, Josiah grabbed him by the ear, allowed him enough time to get his money and walked him out the door. As they exited the saloon he let go only to be attacked by Ezra's ego. "Damn you, Josiah. That's my establishment. I don't need you causing trouble in there. Especially not with me. What's gotten into you. What's so all important that you drag me away from the five richest and naive clients I've had in weeks."

"Loyalty to your friends." Josiah glared at him with a fire that tore into his soul. His mind briefly flashed back to the Indian village shortly after he had met them all. That had been almost two years ago and it still haunted him. Don't ever run out on me again, Chris had told him. Damn it why did that still bother him. He'd fought through hell with them many times since that day.

"So what's the problem?" He said calmly. Josiah's face relaxed a bit though he stayed solemn. "Apparently Vin and Buck have disappeared and Chris has no clue where they are. He's a few days ride from here though."

"Let's go then." They met J.D. and Nathan on the way to their horses. As they set out across the desert with the sun at their backs the only thing anyone looking could see were four dark shadows of riders galloping to the southeast with a dire urgency.

VI

As the short man stepped through he gave a chuckle. "So, you're loose. What a shame for Pete. Seems he's decided to fall asleep at the wrong time."

"Watch you step or you'll lose whatever's in that fat belly of yours mister."

"Planning to shoot me?" He face was a glow in sadistic glee. "There's only one problem with that theory Larabee,"

"What's that?" Chris's anger had overtaken his fear and her was getting more pissed by the second.

"Well, I never exactly trusted Pete enough not to shoot the hostage. We've had that problem before with him. Just a little to quick on the trigger." He shook his head briefly. "Anyway, point is, that Remington in your hand's ain't loaded." His voice was calm, almost gleeful like he expected a fight anyway. Like he wanted one, Chris thought. He probably would have gone to work on him if it weren't for the two guys behind him with Peacemakers already drawn.

"You're bluffing," Chris said.

"Go ahead," he replied. Pull the trigger and see what happens. He remained calm but the two behind him didn't. Chris took a step forward and aimed the gun at one of the men's heads. Still he remained calm. Pulling the trigger, he expected nothing. Instead, a shot fired and left Chris with one man down. Before the other man could fire Chris swung the rifle to the right and smashed it into the man's skull. Dropped the rifle he grabbed the pistol and aimed it at the little man. Still he had not moved and now he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

" What is your problem?"

"Not a thing, sir. In fact I feel perfectly safe."

"And why is that?"

"Because I know where your friends are."

"You What?!" That had taken Chris aback for a moment.

"That and you are under arrest for murdering two Deputy US Marshals and assaulting a third." He opened his coat revealing a Marshall's badge. "Now then I am afraid I shall have to extradite you to where you will be placed on trial. You and your friends."

VII

Something about this smelled wrong. "So where are they," he asked?

"Somewhere safe for the moment. However, I can't really guarantee they'll stay that was if'n ye don't come along quietly, pardner." He lay his hand on Chris's shoulder. "Otherwise they might end up safe underground. About six foot under." Chris had had about enough.

He brushed the man's hand off of his shoulder and grunted. "I'll come with you, but you best keep your hands to yourself, lest ye lose the use of your hand after I figure out what's going on."

"You'll know soon enough, Larabee. For now, You're gonna make your way down the steps and we're gonna saddle up your horses." He paused seemed to reflect for a moment then continue. "By the way, if I don't show up in a few more days, your friends will be dead. If you leave my company I would have to find you, not necessarily make my way back to their location. In other words, pardner, don't get any ideas about running off."

"Don't worry, I'll keep close enough to you," Chris grimaced. The man tied Chris's hands up and they walked downstairs. Something was grunted at the bartender about reparations and they went out into the sun. They proceeded to the livery where both horses were stabled. The stable-hand fixed Chris's rig up and he mounted his ride. After a few more moments his companion was up and leading his horse out of the stables. Chris followed rather unenthusiastically.

As they rode out of town Chris yelled to the kid he had seen working in the hotel that he would be back to pick up his belongin's. The marshal just laughed and said, "Go ahead and sell it, boy. Tell your boss to use it to make reparations that his savage did to his establishment. After all, he won't be back." Flashing a smile and his badge the kid quickly nodded and set off to the hotel to hear about the excitement he had obviously missed. As they rode out of town Chris heard a tune that matched an old spiritual he had once heard Nathan sing, but the words were different. He didn't remember what they were supposed to be, but Swing low, sweet hangman's noose, certainly didn't sound right. Whoever this guy is, he's sick, Chris thought to himself. Looking to his left he saw the sun was climbing in the sky. It must be around 9:00 by now and we're headed south. The marshal looked over to see something register on Chris face. What secretly worried him was that he had no clue what Chris was thinking. Out of nervousness, they switched directions and headed off slightly more to their left. Chris noticed the change from south to southeast patiently. At least he knew where he could get help if he were only going a couple days ride.

VIII

They reached the town almost 24 hours after Chris's scuffle and began to split up. It was Ezra that met with success first. As he walked into the saloon he heard some talk from a table about a man that had shot two deputy US Marshall's the day before. Ignoring this piece of information, knowing Chris would never be that foolish, he asked if he could join in, hoping to change the subject a bit. After a few moments he had all but given up on finding anything useful from them out when one of them said, "You know, I guess this marshal fella had been on that fellow's trail for a while. Seems he not only knew him but had a grudge against him. I heard him call that man out, Larabee!" He yelled with a mocking vengeance.

Ezra jumped though less out of shock from the noise than the others might have supposed. He played few more hands making sure to break even so as not to cause a stir. "Gentlemen," he said as he excused himself, "I must say that truly I am impressed at your skills as card players. You have imparted a great deal of knowledge to me about this game and I do thank you."

He left wondering which was more bull the fact that he hadn't cleaned out the drunkards or that he had actually complemented the imbeciles on their card playing talents. Never-the-less, he had walked away from the table with more than he had come with, something his mother had taught him. He grimaced at the thought of her. Don't ever run out on me again, Chris had said. I just hope I can find you this time, Mr. Larabee

JD walked into the general store to see the owner looking over a six-shooter that looked awfully familiar. "Excuse me, mister," he said, interrupting the man's train of thought. "I was wondering where you got that gun."

Looking warily at the boy the balding man replied, "What's it to you kid?" His voice was deep and had a definite Yankee drawl to it. J.D. noticed that his skin was pale and fingernails were still fairly clean and tidy. This was definitely a tinhorn. He laughed remembering how silly he must have looked when he had first come to Four Corners.

"A friend of mine owns a set like that. I was wondering where you got yours."

"Just bought'em from the hotel manager. Apparently he had a patron who couldn't pay for'em."

"Well now I reckon that's a problem seein' as how those guns weren't his to sell."

"Look kid, that ain't none of my business as to how he runs his shop." JD heard a click and looked down realizing that the man had gone for his own gun. "Now then, I suggest that you either buy something or leave my store. Elsewise I might just deal the itch in my finger decide what happens to you." Realizing he was in a sticky situation JD went back out into the street shaking his head. He ran into Josiah who had spoken to the hotel manager and gotten some information about why Chris was no longer staying at the hotel. He had also talked to the young boy who told them that the man who had taken him was headed south out of town. Nathan unfortunately had found nothing out from the sheriff other than a troublemakin' US Marshal had been causing a lot of problems in his town recently.

Eventually, Ezra emerged with a look of satisfaction and he too shared what he had learned. As for Chris's guns, well that was another matter. "Wait here," he had said and proceeded into the store. he walked around for a few moments and saw the display case full of guns. Walking over he began looking around. Almost immediately he spotted Chris's guns, but intentionally strayed away from them. The store owner came over fairly quickly and said "can I help you sir?"

"Yes my good man. I am looking for a weapon that would come in useful in facing down an opponent in a showdown."

The man gulped quietly, but uttered, "Are you planning on dueling soon?"

"Oh no, sir, In fact I do not have a duel scheduled yet but knowing these ruffians out west I do not take my safely lightly. Now then, as for the gun. As it could possibly be my lifesaver, or" he paused momentarily staring at the shopkeeper, "the death of me I wish to spare no expense." Suddenly the fear in the shopkeepers eyes disappeared and was replaced by that of a huge grin. This was going to be a remarkable sale. He showed Ezra several guns but run into excuses about having had problems with that model, or that he didn't care for the way it looked. "After all," Ezra would say, "if I'm going to die he should do it in style." Eventually they made it to Chris's gun. Ezra then became suddenly serious.

"Now this one sir," said the shopkeeper, "Is a fine work of craftsmanship. Note the pearl handles. As for the machinery, it works like a dandy. If I had to select a weapon for a fight, this would be it sir. It is after all, a Peacemaker."

"So how much for the set?" Ezra could smell a set-up coming. He wasn't about to fall into it though.

"Sixty-two dollars." That caught Ezra off guard. That wasn't a set-up this man was just pain out greedy.

"I hope you're plannin' on throwin' in the belt as well sir."

"Nope, belt's another 10.

"I tell you what. I'll take both guns, and the belt for 10 dollars. After all, they are used." The old man looked flabbergasted.

"You've got to be kidding"

"No, in fact, I believe that was the hotel bill left by my friend, as well as what you paid the manager. I'd hate to tell him that you gave him $10 for a $62 rig." He paused for a moment and then continued. "After all it's only really worth around $38, and you know it." He looked nervous but not enough to budge on the price. Ezra continued, "Then again, friend, I could just ask my cohort to come in. The last time these guns were taken from their owner, my friend killed the shopkeeper and a little old lady. I'd hate to have you suffer what they so narrowly missed." The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He had the man by the balls and he knew it.

"Who," the man said nervously "th-that kid?"

"No," Ezra replied calmly. Almost as if on cue, Josiah stepped in and began to survey the scene. "Ah, Josiah, I was just elucidating the shopkeeper on your penchant for making sure your friends are not cheated."

"You're darn right," he said not fully aware of what he was agreeing to. As Ezra's eyes shifted down to the guns, Josiah saw them and cracked his knuckles. The calmness began to drain out of his face like a bull that had seen a red flag.

"All right, all right," the man stammered. "Take the guns, just gimme the money and get out. I don't want no trouble." At this point he was almost sniveling.

Ezra handed him the money and yanked the guns out of his hand. He winked at Josiah who merely thanked the man very calmly and turned to leave. They walked out Ezra smiling the broader of the two. Although he had parted with money, the con had been good enough, and besides, these were Chris's guns. He had a right to them after all. He just needed to find him before it was too late. The others seemed somber too, but bolstered by the reacquisition of Chris's guns, the headed South on trail. None of them knew what lay ahead other than the barren desert and a town with an ominous name. Tombstone. Though none of them admitted it, all of them shuddered inside. Ezra a little more than most.

I'm not running out on you, he thought. So you dang well better hold out till I get there. J. D. on the other hand, had begun thinking about what he had heard about these outlaws known only as The Cowboys. Primarily they were based out of Tombstone and answered to Ike Clanton. The Clanton's and the McLowery's were a fearsome bunch. Not the least of which was a man known as Johnny Ringo. J.D. had never had the pleasure of running into these men before, but as the town sheriff he had heard an awful lot of stories. "Law just don't go 'round there." Some one had once told him. "It's like trying to bargain with Satan for your soul, only with Satan you got a better deal." Another man had offered as a description. He gulped. Damned if this wasn't the most uncomfortable he'd felt in a while.

IX

"Well alright," Buck said. "I'll wait a minute, but those two guards" He grimaced as he trailed off. They had been holed up here longer than either wanted to think about. The windows had been boarded so tight that no light from the outside filtered in. The passage of time was marked only by the food brought by a masked guard.

As the door opened light began to spill in and they saw the oil lamps from the hallway cast a menacing shadow over the figure that brought in their plates. He slid the food to them careful not to get too close. "Hey," Vin called, "I can't reach the food."

"Tough," growled the masked figure.

"It's tough to keep a prisoner alive if he don't eat," Vin continued.

"That's not my problem," he grunted.

"It will be if I die on your watch." The man looked around to find anything he could use to push the food closer. After a few moments of unsuccessful searching he walked over and pushed it forward. He quickly turned to leave. As he did so, food hit the back of his neck. It felt slimy.

"This is trash. It's already cold." The anger in the guard was boiling. He knew better but charged in anyway simply wanting to tear into the imprisoned cowboy. As he began to lay into Vin, who was, despite the manacles, putting up a good struggle, Buck seized his chance. Pulling the already loose chain from the rotting wall he felt the full weight of it hamper his arm. Not one to waste a change however, he picked up the chain and slung it around the man's neck. The fighting stopped as Vin squeezed the chain choking the man. He slumped onto the top of Vin and lay there. Buck pulled him off and noticed the Vin was bleeding and unconscious. Right across his forehead lay a gash that looked as though it had not been made by a fist. Buck looked down at the chain, and sure enough, where the wall piece was lined with blood around one edge.

"Everything all right in there, Jeb?" The voice was hoarse and it came from right outside the door.

"Aw Hell," Buck said and began to pry his other arm loose. Somehow he doubted that this scene was exactly what Vin had envisioned. Buck had no idea how many guards there were or even really where they were other than a small town in southern Arizona that so far had amounted to a hill of beans. Vin had said he knew someone that could help them. Buck sure as hell hoped he was right. "Hey Jeb," the voice intruded again, "you okay?" Buck's chain came flying off the wall and made a resounding thud on the floor that he was sure the guard outside had heard.

Damn! he thought to himself. The door burst open and a large man wielding a shotgun walked in. He was still hooded but buck could tell that anger was all over this man's face.

"You bastards." He cocked the shotgun.

"Easy friend," Buck stammered. "I had nothing to do with this. He was hoping that in the darkness the man would not notice that his hands were no longer chained to the wall.

"Shut-up you mongrel." He walked forward. The barrel remained pointed at buck the entire time. "I don't care which one of ye did it. Yer both gonna pay for hurting my brother." As he inched closer Buck tried to keep his arms still. He had to wait until the man was closer. If he gave away his maneuver too soon he would be a dead man. No matter what, he couldn't let that gun go off. Surely there were more guards than just these two idiots. The guard was right on top of Vin and his brother when he glanced away from Buck. Seizing the opportunity, Buck threw his body forward grappling the gun towards the floor and punching the guard hard in the face. His fist hurt and he was sure it would swell up given the pain. Had he looked down he would have seen blood breaking out across his knuckles. Unfortunately the guard did not go down. Instead he turned to buck and grinned. "Come on, that wasn't your best shot was it?" He wrenched the gun away and smashed it into Buck's head. He was stunned by the blow and felt his knees begin to buckle. Suddenly he saw the man's face turn purple and his legs clenched together. Buck fighting off the pain surged forward with several blows to the face and the gut. After a several landed the man went down. Knowing that something had changed the momentum of the fight he looked down. Vin smiled weakly from the floor. Buck began to chuckle as he collapsed from the pain.

Although he didn't pass out, he did lie there for a few moments. Eventually, his head still ringing he sat up and looked at Vin who was already turning the last lock in his manacles. He handed the key over to Buck and within minutes they were both free. Buck picked up the shotgun and Vin grabbed the pistol from the first guard. Quickly they began to look around for an escape route.

X

Chris and his escort arrived in Tombstone that very night, and headed straight toward the old house. "You and your friends will stand trial tomorrow." The marshal said. "After all, a group of murderers shouldn't be allowed to live longer than the people that were murdered by them." A sick sneer crossed the old man's face as he said it.

"So I'm already condemned am I?"

"Son, you're as good as executed once the judge gets hold of yuh."

"Who is the local judge?"

"In due time. In due time. For now I'd be content with saying your prayers and confessions cause where you're going there ain't likely to be a priest you hear'em." The man's smile was widening and Chris didn't like it. Not one bit. He'd had about enough of this old bastard. So he simply stopped talking. This must have obliged the marshal as well as he didn't say much else either. The approached the house and got past the guards at the gate. They headed to the front door and walked down the hallway past another two guards. Then they reached to door. The marshal opened it and walked him in. The moonlight shone in on the two bodies shackled to the wall. For a moment the marshal didn't realize anything was wrong. Then, he called two of the guards in, instructed them to shoot Chris on sight if he flinched and walked over to the prisoners. "Aw hell!" he exclaimed. "The bastards are gone."

Chris's smile was unmistakable as the man walked back towards him. He smacked him across the face and said, "Don't you mock me, mister. You're gonna be the one swinging by a rope." He stormed out screaming orders to the guards and cursing at them for allowing the prisoners to escape. Chris to himself. I may be in over my head, he thought, but at least I got help on the outside. After about twenty minutes he noticed that the tirade outside had stopped. This however did not truly relax him. He was after all still under guard by a man with a loaded shotgun. Determined not to let his nerves get to him, he sat back in the corner and waited.

XI

The crawled across the ground for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Vin signaled that it was safe to get up. As Buck stood up, he noticed they were on the edge of town. "You're a sight," he said laughing at Vin's appearance.

"I doubt you'll be bedding any ladies tonight either, Buck." Vin retorted. They laughed, letting the tension off and continued to the edge of town. "I know somebody that might be able to help us. He should be in there," Vin said pointing at a saloon labeled The Oriental.

"Hell," Buck said, "you realize they could be all over the place."

"If they ain't yet they will be soon. We need somewhere to hole up fast. I doubt we could be in any more trouble than we are. Come on." Reluctantly Buck followed. He knew Vin was right, but that didn't make him any less nervous. They had been ambushed before after all. That was what had gotten them to this hole in the wall town.

If I die at least it will be in an appropriately named town, he thought nervously. As they entered, no one looked up aside from the bartender. Buck stood back as Vin walked up to the bartender to ask a question. He was a man of average build Buck noted. His mustache showed slight signs of gray but mainly it was the bald spot on his head that gave away his age. Probably forty or so Buck thought. He noticed the bartender point off to the table in the far corner. Vin tipped his hat and the bartender and began walking in that direction. Buck followed, but at a distance. He stopped at the bar and ordered a whiskey. The bartender was quick to oblige. Buck watched Vin carefully praying he wasn't making a mistake.

Vin had stopped behind a fairly thin man and waited patiently for the hand to finish. "Hi Doc," he said as the winnings were removed from the center of the table by the very gentleman to which he spoke.

"Mr. Tanner," he said with a thick Southern drawl reminding Buck of Ezra. "How good it is to see you again." He enunciated every syllable Buck noticed.

"I was hoping we could talk to ya, if you have a moment."

"Certainly sir, I always have a moment for a man who knows my dear woman." Did Vin blush? Buck couldn't tell. He definitely had lowered his head. The gentleman stood up revealing himself to be a tall and gaunt man. He also looked as though he might be a bit under the weather Buck thought.

"How is Kate," Vin asked?

"She's just dandy," the man said and smiled wickedly. There was definitely something about this man that Buck did not like. He just looked like he attracted trouble. At this point though, he and Vin were pretty hard up for help. He guessed it was better than nothing. As he was immersed in his thoughts, he failed to notice them approaching.

"Buck," Vin said for the third time.

"Wha-, hunh?"

"Perhaps your friend has had a bit too much of the fine beverages this establishment has to offer."

"No, I'm fine," he said straightening up.

"Buck," Vin said, "This is Doc Holliday." Buck almost lost his composure when he heard the name. The man was already a legend in the west as a dangerous card shark and gunslinger. Rumor had it wherever this man was, a trail of blood followed.

"Howdy," he said cautiously.

"Apparently, my reputation precedes me, sir." It was a statement of fact, not a question. "I see, well perhaps, in helping you and Mr. Tanner here I can prove to you that I am not as bad as I have been said to be. I do, after all, owe you, Mr. Tanner, and I am one to pay on my debts."

I bet, thought Buck. The fact that your debtors end up dead simply means that you owe them nothing. He however did have the presence of mind to keep his mouth shut. It was quick mouths that started fights, and he knew from reputation, that Doc's reflexes were generally what ended them. He took another whiskey and drank it quickly. This was going to be one hell of a ride he thought.

"Come on boys." They left the saloon and Doc took them to the hotel where they could hole up. He booked the rooms for them and paid in advance. He gave the manager false names and the two shimmied up the walls into their rooms after Doc opened the windows and let them in. He then went and checked himself out of the hotel and took his things to a different establishment.

A few moments later there was a knock on Vin's door. He grabbed his gun putting his finger on the trigger and hiding it behind his back. Slowly, he walked over to the door. As he opened it, he let loose a sigh of relief. Lowering his gun and stepping back he was met with a fist to the face by Buck. "What the hell do you mean crossing our paths with that outlaw." Vin looked at him stunned. "You mean to tell me," Buck continued, "that you have had dealings with not only him, but his woman as well! He's a murderer for Christ's sake I thought you had more sense than to hang out with people like that."

Vin stared at him long and hard before responding. Finally he looked at him and said, "Why should I have better sense, you hang out with one all the time." The grin upon his face was unmistakable and Buck suddenly realized what he had said.

"You mean to tell me he's wrongly convicted too? Jesus, is anybody ever arrested that actually did the crime?!"

"I never said that," Vin replied. "Look he and I go back a bit. He ain't the nicest guy in the world and he sure as hell ain't safe to piss off, especially when he's drunk, but he's a friend. And quite honestly, he's our only hope of getting Chris out at the moment so unless you got a better idea, you might want to consider saving your fiery anger for the bastards that got us."

"You mean they have him too?"

"Probably by now, yeah. I was listening in one night on the wagon while you were asleep. Somehow I got the impression that while we were important, we were also barely ranked above bait."

I don't know where he is, but Doc can find out."

"So what about his woman?"

"What about her?"

"Well, how was she?"

"You gotta be kidding me?"

"Don't gimme that gentlemen don't talk routine, how was she?"

"Buck," he paused grinning again, "I hate to tell you but all I did was save her from being run off a cliff when she was on a runaway stagecoach. She and a few really scared tinhorns that couldn't have done anything if they had wanted too."

"And you got no payment for services rendered?" The look on Buck's face was one of shock.

"Sorry, no. I prefer to stay away from the receiving end of Doc's guns. Now then, if you will excuse me, I have some sleep I'd like to catch up on.

XII

For Chris, the night was just beginning. "Damn it Larabee," the boss man screamed! "You're gonna pay for what your friends did." He punched Chris in the gut so hard that Chris was forced to double over despite his desire to remain standing.

The man can pack a punch that's for damn sure, Chris thought as he gasped for air.

"That's alright though when we find'em and we will find'em, I'll take pleasure in guttin' the bastards. Nobody said they had to be present at the trial anyway."

"Especially," Chris gasped, "since you've apparently decided we're guilty."

"That's not for me to decide, you low life. Don't worry though I think the judge has the same opinion of you that I do." The Marshall's fist flew at Chris's face. Chris tried to jerk his hand up to grab it but he was restrained by the chains on his wrists. Instead he heard his cheekbone crack and his head slammed into the wall he was backed against. "Then again, no one ever said you needed to be conscious either. Course, I 'spect the judge will want you to be able to know what's going on when he passes sentence on you." He spit on Chris and walked out of the room.

One of the other men, a black man walked up to him and said, "I'll take pleasure in guttin' you boy." The smile on him was unmistakable. It was one of horny excitement. Chris noticed the bulge in the man's pants and just rolled his eyes.

Aw, hell he thought. This is one sick hombre. He tried to hold back the sweat but he could feel it forming on his forehead.

"That's right boy," the man continued, "Keep the meat moist. I'd hate for you to get all dried out and" He never finished the sentence for although Chris was chained to the wall, he had enough slack to knee the man square in between the legs. The man's eyes bulged as he gasped for air and struggled to maintain his footing. He fell to one knee and Chris aimed a knee at his head, but this time he missed. The fire in the man's eyes had, for just a brief moment, flashed with fear. Now however he seemed to regain his composure and he crawled away from the chained prisoner. "You'll pay for that, you murdering bastard."

Chris froze. What the hell was he talking about? He had killed a lot of people but none had been in cold blood. Then again, anyone who lost a relative to a lawman didn't necessarily think it was lawful killing. To them it was still murder. He didn't recall killing any blacks though. Not since the war. Surely this man wasn't holding a grudge since then? Hell Chris had fought for the North anyway. He watched as the man pulled out a knife and began sharpening it. The blade had to be at least a foot long. Jesus, Chris thought. A mouse peeped its head out of a wall and scampered towards the door to the hallway. From across the room, the knife flew, twirling soundlessly, and buried itself in the mouse's back. Chris looked with horror. Chris watched it twitch and writhe in pain. The man walked over and picked up the knife with the mouse still attached. By now the movements were almost nothing. After a few more seconds it was still. The man pulled it off his knife and placed the rodent in his mouth. The bones crunched as he chewed the corpse. After a few moments he spit it out at Chris's feet and chuckled. Slowly he walked back to the far corner of the room and sat back down to sharpen his knife. Chris looked down at his feet.

There lay what was left of a mangled, bloody, and chewed up corpse. Bones poked out in every direction and tufts of fur were missing across various sections of its form. Chris was becoming sick to his stomach. One of the mouse's eyes was looking blankly up at Chris. That was all he could take. His nerves were shocked so badly that he simply could not hold it in any longer and his stomach heaved, joining his own fluids with the mouse's. With that he tried to turn away and close his eyes.

XIII

"Well boys," Doc said the next day, "I say we get moving. This friend of yours probably doesn't have a great deal of time."

"Doc, you're not thinking of doing something heroic right this second are you," Vin said. "We need back-up. I was just at the telegraph office and Mary tells me the boys should be here in a day or two."

"Your friend may not have that kind of time, son. Then again, shouldn't we give the readers something to enjoy." He smirked at this and seemed to look off into the distance at nothing in particular.

"Readers," Buck said. "You mean dime novels? What we're talking about here is people's lives and you want to write a dime novel about it? You have to be kidding me!"

"I can't write one unless we survive, son. Now simmer down. My mind is on the task at hand. From Mr. Tanner's description the location of these boys is run down old shack a few miles from here." Buck's expression was one of disgust. This Doc Holliday was treating them like they had not crawled from there just the other day. He was an absolute jack ass. "Unfortunately," he continued, either unaware of uncaring of Buck's attitude, "That piece of land is owned by one of the Clantons. Ike, I believe. He and his Cowboys use it as a place to take care of problems." The emphasis on the last word of the sentence made Vin feel kinda uneasy. He had been a problem of this group just a few short hours ago and now Chris was likely in their custody. "Like I said, you friend may not have the time to wait. Those boys ain't known for their patience."

XIV

"Going in there guns blazing ain't exactly my idea of a great plan," Buck said. "I really would prefer not getting myself or Chris killed.

"I have no intention of getting you gentlemen," he paused looked at Vin and snorted and resumed, "killed." In fact I aim to have you quite alive. Of course you will have to trust me. He said that with a sardonic grin on his face as his eyes bore into the back of Buck's skull.

You have to be kidding me, Buck thought. This guy is likely to turn us over to these bastards and leave us to die. As these thoughts ran through his head he looked to Vin who was quietly staring back at Holliday with an expressionless face. After a moment, he spoke.

"So what exactly do you plan on doing, Doc? After all, you and I both know the cowboys hate you, most of them want you dead!"

"I am going to present them with a peace offering." He said smiling. Vin's eyes got big for a split second and then returned to normal.

"Doc, I know we ain't real close, but I came to you for help."

"And help you shall receive," came the calm response. "Did you think I was going to offer your heads to them on a platter? For shame!"

No, not on a platter, Buck thought miserably. He was liking this man less by the minute and trust was not even a consideration. He could almost understand why so many of these guys wanted him dead. After all, he was an arrogant S.O.B. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crashing tables downstairs and he drew his gun. It was too early in the day for normal bar room brawl after all. Drawing his gun he walked to door and peeped out. "Shit, they found us," he said.

Vin ran to the window and looked down on the street. "I don't see anybody outside. Maybe we can escape through the balcony." A bullet smashed through the glass barely missing him. The glass ripped into his face and he felt pain tear through his body.

"Maybe not," sneered Doc as he pulled Vin away from the window missing yet another bullet. "You alright," he asked, concern flashing briefly across his face. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but Vin saw it and he nodded. He had yet to notice the blood, but as he stood up his vision began to blur and turn red.

He wiped his face off in amazement and said, "Aw, hell. They're gonna pay for that."

"Whoa there," Doc said, "you aren't going anywhere. We need a plan."

"Well think quick, smarty pants," Buck said from the door, "'cause here they come." He looked back to see Doc flying into the closet and hiding in the shadows.

"Great, he's a coward," Buck said. "Damn it, mister, I'm gonna shoot you myself."

"Shut up, fool, I don't think they know I am here. I intend to play that to my advantage."

"Your advantage, I bet," Buck sneered. "Fuck you." He turned to point his gun into the closet when the door slammed open and two men with guns stood in the hallway with shotguns pointed in. Buck dove, firing a bullet into one of their arms. Vin let out a shot from the corner where he lay burying it in the chest of the other gunmen. Both seemed stunned and hurt, but neither was down for the count. Vin struggled to his feet again and the shotgun went off. It nailed him in the guts and he fell to the floor. He was bleeding profusely from his face and his chest now. Buck rolled under the bed and launched another two shots, I hate fanning he thought thinking about how J.D. would never let this one go if he found out about it. It was starting to look like a big if. Suddenly he heard two bursts from the closet and two thuds on the floor near the foot of the bed. He rolled back out, gun cocked and ready to fire. There was no need however, the two men were on the ground and bleeding from their skulls. Doc was on his way to the window, rifle drawn. Buck watched a bullet strike Doc's leg, but he didn't flinch as he let loose a shot from his Winchester that was shortly followed by a piercing scream. Another shot rang out from the rifle and Doc looked back. His look said "I told you so," but Buck ignored it and crawled over to Vin. His stomach was a mass of blood. "Get a doctor," he said.

"On my way," came the reply. "Keep your eyes and ears open. You can't do him any good dead." Buck barely heard him.

"Damn," he thought. He hadn't seen this much blood since the war. His friends had lost friends there. The world around him faded away.

XV

Buck stared around him as the walls faded away into fields of tall grass filled with the sounds of men yelling and canons firing. He saw his clothes had changed back into his Union Blues. Beside him lay Chris, dazed from a bullet wound that had grazed his scalp. Luckily, he seemed to be alive. Buck ripped off his jacket and tore at his shirt sleeve. As it came loose he wondered what the Officer's might think. Then again, if he wore his jacket, who would know? He wrapped it around Chris's head and bandaged it as best he could. "Come on pal," he said, slapping Chris's face lightly. "wake up. We gotta git movin'. Johnny Rebs gonna come over that hill in a second and we are gonna be shot where we sit." Chris didn't seem to hear him. His eyes were glazed over from the loss of blood. There was so much of it, Buck thought. Damn this Battle of Bull Run. He had been here once before and lost as well. He picked up Chris and began carrying him, as quickly as he could without jostling him, into a thicket of trees by the wayside. As they sat there, silently, Buck prayed, for the first time in years. He wanted to be safe, to live through the war, but most of all, for Chris, his tent mate to survive. They had kept each other sane after all. Soon Confederate soldiers came over the ridge and charged through what was left of the Union Army. We're finished, Buck thought, and he got ready to stand up and surrender. As he started to his feet however, a hand reached up to grab him. "I'm alright," Chris said, "just stay down." For the next several hours, everything was tense, then darkness fell and they were able to sneak away undetected. As they fled however, they crawled past many corpses of their friends, enemies, and strangers. Their blood had intermingled, and dried. Some were missing limbs, many with looks of fear and horror on their faces. Buck couldn't see their faces clearly, but from what his could make out his imagination probably only made it worse. The stench was almost unbearable. He had to prevent himself from retching several times. Finally after almost two minutes of crawling through the carnage he could hold it no longer and he lost it. What little was actually in his stomach came out, and he spent almost five minutes dry heaving air. Chris, injured as he was, forced Buck forward to keep them going. As they exited the battlefield Buck said, "Geezus, I expected us to be dead." Chris winked at him, pointed toward dim firelight a few miles off, and passed out. Buck had to carry him the rest of the way.

XVI

The posse arrived at the edge of town as the firing died down. Dismounting their horses they grabbed their guns uncertainly. Rushing into a firefight between unknown parties was dangerous. Especially when there was no need in gettin' involved. They cautiously approached the now quiet street, uncertain of what to do. Nothing moved on the street. Townspeople had scattered into buildings to avoid the bullets. The silence was rather uncomfortable and JD wiped the sweat from his brow trying desperately to keep the mosquitoes out of his eyes. They slowly made their way down the street, keeping their eyes open and their guns holstered. They had no intention of getting arrested for being in a gunfight they had arrived too late to be part of. It was Ezra who jumped first, seeing a lanky man run out of the building. He started for his gun and did a double take. No, he thought, It can't be. That bastard owes me $15. Josiah too was startled, but seeing no gun in the man's hand he let his own piece alone. Instead, he headed towards the door from which the man had emerged and signalled Nathan to trail the fleeing man. JD and Ezra he signalled to hold their ground outside the door. As he entered he saw a great number of people playing cards nervously and a bartender wiping a shotglass over and over. After a few seconds, he decided to ask a question. Sizing up a saloon gal, he walked up to her and said, "Ma'm, you think you could tell me where that man who ran outta here jest came from."

"No sugah," she winked, "but I can show you where you should have been if you come back later."

"Thanks, ma'am but not tonight. Did you see where he came from?" The look in his eye was unmistakable.

"Up the stairs," She snorted. Following her advice, he headed up. At the top of the stairs he was greeted by the stench of death. Covering his mouth and nose with his hand he walked forward, noticing a trickle of blood inching its way into the hall from an open door. Drawing his gun, he peeked around the corner. There, on the floor lay two dead bodies, an unconscious Vin, and a rather stationary Buck. Josiah darted into the room. As he reached Buck, he saw a flash of movement and was suddenly confronted by the open end of a Peacemaker. "You ain't gonna take us, Johnny Reb," came the guttural grunt from the hunched figure in front of him.

"Whoa son," Josiah said, "Wars over, I ain't no Reb." He saw the trigger finger twitch, and before he could think about it slammed his thumb in between the hammer and the pin of the gun. He heard the bones crack at the impact. He bit his lip to stifle the scream, tasting the blood run down the inside of his lip. Smacking Buck he grabbed the gun with his good hand and backed up. Before he could get far however, Buck already had another gun drawn pointed at his head. This time Josiah was too far away to do anything. The single action's lever slowly raised back. Josiah noticed the glaze in Buck's eyes and decided to try something risky. Swivelling his arm around he pointed the gun at Vin and said, "Drop it, Yank!" Josiah had said it before he realized the words were out of his mouth. He realized in horror that he most likely had just escalated the situation. Buck's hand began to move in response

XVII

The streets were still empty as Nathan followed the sprinting man down the street. He didn't try to hide much. Truth be told, he didn't need to as this man was apparently intent on wherever it was he was going. Nathan kept one arm near his gun, as he began to pant. Realizing the man in front was slowing down as well, he slowed, thanking God that the other man too was tiring. He heard what sounded like heavy congested coughing from the man ahead, who had suddenly stopped and was bending over coughing horribly. Nathan stopped, listening. Whoever this man was, he wasn't healthy. Looking down the street Nathan noticed several shops. The one that looked to be the most likely destination was the doctor's office. Acting without thinking, he walked up to the man. "Hey mister, you need a doctor? Somebody hurt?"

"What's it to you boy?" he snarled, coughing horribly.

"I was hopin' I could help," Nathan replied resisting the urge to attack the man verbally or physically.

"You a doctor?" It was a question sure enough, though the tone was one full of doubt.

"A doctor? No sir, but I am skilled in healin'. I helped a lot on the battlefields."

"Really," came the reply, but this time, the doubt was also mixed with a bit of urgency. "Alright, then boy, I need you to the hotel on the corner back there, Room 17. A man there needs help. I'll get the doctor. If he's dead when we get there, I'll come after you till the devil catches one of us." The grit on his face was definite at that point. Nathan was mad. He hated being demeaned, but if this man was tied in with the gunfight as he surely was, then someone needed medical attention. Nathan turned and hurried back down the street wondering if this was the right decision. His gut was telling him it wasn't. He was after all supposed to follow this Southerner. He knew the war had freed the blacks, but still he was harassed by this ignorant intolerance. He blocked it out of head and headed back to the hotel. He passed Ezra and JD as he went up the stairs. The both shot him stares and when he ignored them, they followed him up the stairs. Apparently he knew something they didn't and they weren't real thrilled about that prospect as they both hated this idea of being in the dark. The reached the door and slammed into Nathan before they realized he had frozen in the doorway blocking their entry. His body was stiff and unmoving, though he almost crumpled upon being hit by their combined weight. Looking in they saw the unthinkable. Vin lay in the corner bleeding profusely, Josiah had his gun pointed directly at Vin's head, and Buck was unmistakably aiming at Josiah's head.

"Brought your friends along, Johnny Reb?" Buck's voice was a cackle. It sounded desperate and full of fear. That made him extremely dangerous. Like a viper getting ready to strike. Nathan made to move in the room but Josiah's eyes made him freeze. He saw the fear there as well. Whatever was transpiring here could only get worse by any interference.

"Tell ya what, Yank," Josiah said, the evenness in his voice never once betraying the fear in his eyes, "I'll put my gun down as a show of faith. You do the same?"

"So your Reb friends can gun me down unarmed?"

"They'll leave." He shot them a momentary glance. "Downstairs," he whispered. There was a look of disbelief from all three faces at the door, but not arguing, they left. Josiah listened to the footsteps descend the stairs. Then he lowered the gun. Buck's gun was fully cocked. This was a hell of a risk. Please Lord, he thought, don't let me be wrong. His gun was on the floor and he stood back up. Buck hadn't moved. They stood for what seemed like an eternity. Then Buck began to release the hammer gently and let the gun relax in his hand.

"What do you want," he asked? He wasn't doing a good job of holding his fear back.

"Just to help Vin."

"Vin?" his voice faltered. He looked at the body on the ground. He blinked. That wasn't dirt, it was a wooden floor. Then he realized it wasn't even Chris, it was Vin. Suddenly everything came into focus for him. "Holy" he gasped and collapsed.

"I'm sorry Josiah." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Nathan," Josiah yelled! Within seconds, he was up the stairs and in the room. He quickly bent over Vin. "He's lost a lot of blood," came the diagnosis. "The bullet went clean through," he said. "That's hopeful. Come on, we need to get him cleaned up." They ripped his shirt off. It was soaked in blood and left a dripping trail across the floor as they threw it into the corner. Josiah ripped his shirt off and began to rip parts of it into strips. Nathan had JD place his hands over the wound to hold back the bleeding. They were just about to apply the bandages when Doc appeared with an older pudgy balding man carrying a small black bag.

"He still alive, boy?" came the cynical question.

"Yeah, but barely. Doc, the bullet went clean through. I was just about to wrap him up." The doctor bent over and assisted Nathan in bandaging their patient. The doctor made sure Vin was stable and left him in the care of the posse. He informed them he would be downstairs or a bit should they need him.

"Well, thanks for your help folks, but my friend and I can take it from here," Doc said eyeing Buck.

"You don't understand mister, Vin's our friend too," JD said not quite able to hold back his contempt.

"That true Buck?"

"Yeah," Buck said still looking a bit out of sorts.

"Can't take our word for it, Mr. Holliday," asked Ezra?"

Doc looked up at the man who had just spoken and replied, "Do I know you ,sir?"

"I should hope so, you owe me fifteen dollars."

"Really," came the response filled with irony. "Can you be a bit more specific?"

"Ezra Standish, at your service."

"Ah yes, the flashy Southerner from Austin."

"That's the place we met, sir. I am glad to know you recall."

"Yeah, I recall. I let you live when I caught you cheating. That was mainly 'cause my consumption was bothering me. I feel fine now though." Everyone in the room had frozen, suddenly realizing who they were dealing with. If this really were the deadly Doc Holliday then they were all lucky to be alive.

"Didn't sound like it a few minutes ago," Nathan said breaking the silence. "You were coughing up your lung."

"Well, that's generally the idea, Doc." He emphasized the last word with such vigor that no one missed the vileness of his tone or the irony of his wording. Looking back to the others he said, "Then I should assume that you are all here to rescue this Mr. Larabee."

"Where is Chris anyway," JD asked.

"The Cowboys have him," came the reply from Buck. The temperature in room dropped as everyone's hearts sank. This was gonna be a hell of ride from here on out. The Seven were down two, and in their place was the ornery cuss known as Doc Holliday.

I must be in Hell, thought Josiah.

XVIII

He felt a jab of pain in his side as he was awakened roughly. The room still reeked and sunlight was barely visible through the boards covering the windows. Aw hell, he thought, what do these bastards want now? he bit his tongue however before the thoughts could be verbalized. "Stand up you ornery fuck," came a voice from above him in a raspy drawl. He looked up to see an fairly short older balding man. He stench of liquor drifted off of him. His eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and fear.

What kind of a threat could he pose this man while he was still in chains? he thought. Chris started to stand and as he did so he braved the question, "Who are you?"

"Shut up," came the response as the old man's fist pummelled him in the stomach.

"Quit screwin' with the prisoner, Ike!" Came a voice from down the hall. "Get him out here. The judge is tired of waitin'." Suddenly it hit him. The face, the name, he realized who he was dealing with. At that moment his stomach dropped a few feet, partially cause Ike had hit him again, but because Chris had realized he was being held by the Clanton gang. The McLowery's probably weren't far off either. He had no quarrel with these people though. Hell, he'd never even met them. He did know by reputation though that any judge in their pocket was likely to be crooked. He began to walk down the corridor towards the door. As he reached it, the door opened and he was blinded by the bright light from outdoors. Stepping out, he tripped over a rock in the ground and began to fall down. He was grabbed roughly by several hands and pushed back onto his feet. He was led up a set of stairs and put in a chair, where he was bound. By now his eyes were adjusted and he noticed that the chair on which he sat was located on a gallows platform. Looking around he saw about twenty men. Ike Clanton and his family as well as the McLowery's and William Curly Bill Brocius were all there. "What's the judge for?" He asked. "Seems you folks already got me hung."

"Make sure things are done proper," came a voice from behind him. He started to turn his head, but heard the boots approaching and decided to wait. The figure that passed him was dressed in all black, He wore no hat, and his black hair was neatly combed. The figure walked all the way to the far end of the gallows, about five feet from where Chris sat. Looking down into the crowd, he said, "So boys, you ready for a hangin'?" The gleeful enthusiasm in his voice was hideously apparent.

"You think passing judgment is a sport?" Chris spat. It was a rhetorical question but the venom in his words were there.

"No," came the reply from the figure. "take the law very seriously. Punishments are handed out based on the severity of the crime. A life for a life." He paused for a brief moment. "It's too bad," he continued that we can only kill you once though. After all, you deserve to feel the pain of BOTH of your victims." Chris was puzzled. Which two cowboys had he killed? He didn't remember knowing any of them.

"Which of your boys am I accused of killing?"

"The asshole don't even know who he's killed?" It was Curly Bill Brocius. Chris had seen wanted posters of him in a few US Marshal's offices before.

"Well," said the man on the gallows, "I guess we shall have to enlighten him." At that, he turned around and Chris jumped. There was something familiar about this man though he couldn't place it. The black hair, the mustache, the sardonic grin. He was sure he had seen him somewhere before, but he couldn't place where. He shook his head trying to think of an answer. To some people it might seem a bit odd at this point to wonder where you have seen the face of the man about to pass judgment on you, but Chris was simply so nervous that it was all he could think about to keep his nerves in check. "For a man who so callously destroyed the lives of two women, you sure take things lightly. Perhaps the names Ella and Hilda." Everything else around Chris disappeared. He saw blood. If Ella was mixed up in all this there was surely gonna be hell to pay.

"I didn't kill that bitch!"

"To which of the ladies are you referring to?" Came the reply from the man atop the gallows.

"Actually," Chris said reigning in his anger, "I didn't kill either of them, but Ella was the one I referred to. I had no quarrel with Hilda."

"Well I got news for you, your favorite lady friend isn't dead, but she sure is distraught. She claims that in a fit of rage over her refusal to marry you, you killed Hilda as she sat by her side."

"What?!" The anger surfaced anew. This time it was totally unbridled. "It was her men that shot her while they were aiming at us!"

"So you admit to firing upon her?"

"Yeah," said Chris unashamedly.

"Well then, you cold hearted bastard, you're gonna hang. Shootin' at a woman 'cause she refused your marriage proposal just ain't right. 'Specially since I'm friends with her."

"I never asked her to marry me. That rattlesnake lied to you and she's playing you for a fool, wanting you to kill me."

"Oh, she don't want you dead. That's for your friends. All six o'em. Me being the gentlemanly sort, I'm takin the pleasure of stretchin' your neck all to myself. Let no one say that Johnny Ringo don't defend his friends." Chris paled. He recognized the name. He hadn't placed the face with it before, but he knew the name. He figured that must be why his face looked so familiar to him, and pushed it out of his mind to focus on the situation before him.

"With friends like her, it's no wonder you're rotten to the core. How many men have you murdered Ringo?"

"Enough I never got caught, and they were men, not helpless women."

"'sides truth be told, I'm really just aimin' to hang you for makin' my friend all ornery. She bothered me right when I was plannin' to take care of some important business. She got in my way. Well, needless to say, I didn't get done what I needed."

"Didn't catch your train?"

"I certainly did miss an opportunity, if that's what you mean," he said. His voice so full of irony that no one missed it. "Anyway, since I see no reason to hurt her, as she is long gone, I plan on takin' it out on you. I get vengeance on her, by killing you. Vengeance for her, by killin' your friends, and retribution for my missed opportunity by stringing you up by your neck." His voice had risen as he spoke and as he finished a cheer came from below. "See boy, here in Tombstone, we play for blood." His smirk lit up his face in a devilish contortion. "Hoy, mi amigo, usted muere."

"él que se sentó sobre el caballo pálido era muerte, y todo el infierno seguido con él ." The words were out of Chris's mouth before he knew what he was saying. Hell, he didn't even know Spanish. He tried desperately to keep his face calm.

"What the hell?" The voice came from down below, and sounded Mexican. "A sick horse?"

Ringo turned and looked into the crowd. "You're English is as bad as your Spanish asshole," Ringo spoke sounding perturbed. "He's misquoting Revelations. Behold, a pale horse. What he said was He that sat upon the pale horse was Death, and all Hell followed with him. If you are going to speak Spanish you really should learn to understand it." He paused long enough to turn around. "And you," he began gruffly, "If you're gonna quote scripture, at least do it right." He stepped toward Chris and punched him hard across the right cheek. "Wanna turn it so I can hit the other one?" he snarled. Chris was struggling hard.

He spit at Ringo and said, "I wouldn't give you or Ella any of me willingly. You can both go to hell." The crowd below laughed.

"Okay," he laughed, "but you first." Sliding the chair over the trapdoor, he took the noose and placed it roughly around Chris's neck. He walked back over to the railing and looking over nodded. The rope above Chris's neck began to pulled up. He fought it, but eventually he was on his feet straining to get his breath. "Now then," said Johnny, "any last words?"

XIX

They had been riding for about 30 minutes when Doc pulled to a halt. "It's gonna be right nasty from here on in, gentlemen. I would suggest that you keep your guns ready. We're about five minutes ride from their locale."

"You just get us there, Doc," said Buck. "We'll do the rest."

"And let you take all the glory? You, sir, are a fool to think I would turn down such a brilliant opportunity. I have my readers to consider." He smirked. Buck smiled back, JD gritted his teeth, Nathan snorted, and Josiah simply ignored him concentrating on the mission ahead. Buck had begun to like this man. Though a bit ornery, he had saved Buck's life just after making the same quote. Doc kicked his horse and led the others forward. While they all had pistols drawn, Doc had drawn out his Henry Rifle. His pistols however were within quick reach should he need them. After a few moments they reached the crest of the hill. Looking down the slope they saw a group of people seated facing what appeared to be a gallows. On the platform was a person seated and another standing. All of them spurred their horses into a gallop. They had to get there quick. Within a few seconds they watched the figure standing up walk up to the seated one and hit him. JD's hand flew to the trigger and he had to force himself to not fire. A few seconds later the seated Figure was being raised to a standing position. They still hadn't been noticed, as Doc raised the rifle, releasing the reins. Chris was hanging there.

"Any last words?"

"Yeah," Chris said, noticing the horses galloping forward. "Fuck you and your whore bitch friend Ella."

"Very well then,"

"Oh yeah, and one other thing."

"What now?" Ringo seemed to be losing patience.

"Here comes Hell!" Ringo spun around and turned white as a sheet. Before him he saw six horses. The lead one was white followed closely by five others. A second later he screamed, "Flip the lever." When nothing happened to Chris he began to recall that the lever was beside him. Meanwhile the Cowboys were standing up and turning around. Johnny pulled the lever just as a rifle cracked in the distance. Chris began to fall, but instead of springing from the rope, he hit the ground underneath the gallows. Thank god whoever shot him had good aim. He didn't recognize the horse. Hell, he'd been bluffing. It might have even been Ringo's men, but it had gotten Ringo's attention diverted long enough for Chris to wiggle his hands free finally. He rolled away from the hole and began to pull off his boots. It was unfortunately, the fastest way.

The posse were close enough to make out the faces now and began letting their lead fly. The Cowboys, not to be outdone followed suit. JD was hit in the left arm and almost lost his grip on the reins. The pain was terrible. Buck took down two men quickly. Josiah shot at Ike Clanton, but he dove out of the way and onto his horse. He was out of the fight before it really got going. Nathan was knocked off his horse by shot to his left shoulder and his right elbow. He crumpled to the ground. "Damn son," Curly Bill said, "I was trying to kill you. Stay down and get dead." He aimed at Nathan's head but Ezra nailed him in the hand knocking the gun away. Josiah slid off the horse, knocking Curly Bill to the ground. Ringo let some of his lead fly as well causing Josiah to fall down due a shot in the knees, and Buck to drop his gun as that hand was hit. Many of the Cowboys were in the process of fleeing, and Bill, as well as Ringo realized the fight was over. Ezra, seeing Chris under the gallows hopped off the horse and ran too him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." The response was gruff and scratchy as Chris rubbed his throat.

I didn't desert you, he thought to himself. I got here in time.

"I knew you'd make it." Chris said, almost reading his mind. Ezra flinched. Had he been that obvious.

"Come on," he said. They suddenly noticed the gunfire had stopped. As they crawled out they heard the clicking sound of the hammer of a gun. "You two ain't going anywhere," It was Johnny Ringo. "I intend to kill you, Larabee. One way or another." Chris looked around. Nathan and JD were on the ground, Josiah was wrestling with Curly Bill and Buck and Doc had ridden after the rest of the cowboys. There were two of them alright, but Chris was unarmed and it only took one bullet to kill each of them. Unfortunately this man was notoriously fast in his shooting.

A rifle shot fired from behind them, and Ringo dropped. He had been hit. Chris spun around to see where the shot had come from while Ezra drew his other gun. Leaning against the building was Vin. He was wincing in pain, and barely holding up the rifle, but he was standing there none the less. Chris looked over to where Josiah had been fighting. There he lay, Curly Bill was gone.

Chris walked over and checked Nathan and JD while Ezra went to get Josiah. JD and Nathan were both dazed but okay. As for Josiah, he was out cold. Doc and Buck came riding back a few moments later. Everyone had gotten up and was making their way to Vin who was still managing to stay on his feet. They too headed to Vin. "You're supposed to be in bed," Nathan ranted as they rode up.

"I'm not so sick, as I made out," he said, winking at Doc, who slid off his horse laughing.

"Now that's one I'll have to remember," he said. "Where's Ringo," he added in a more serious tone.

"On the gallows, I assume," said Vin. "That's where he was when I shot him." They all walked over to look, but aside from a bloody trail, he was gone. Buck and JD were itchin' to follow him, but Doc spoke against it.

"No, boys. They'll be back." And if we wait around they'll just have more with'em. We got what we came for. Let's tend the wounded and count our blessings."

"What about your readers, Doc?" asked Vin in an accusing voice. "You don't want to let them down do you?"

"No, I'll just leave it a cliffhanger. I have a poker game I want to get back to. You boys interrupted a winning streak of mine. Besides, I have a feeling I'll be seeing Mr. Ringo again. He'll have his day, and if I can manage it, I'll be around when it happens." He smiled as he mounted up and headed back to town.

"Mary will be glad to see you again," Vin said, as he lit the run down shack and gallows in flame. Then they too headed back towards town as the sun set low in the horizon.

THE END