---

Vin Tanner tacked his horse with sure, easy movements, growling at the animal to settle when he grew fractious, slapping away the mouth that kept trying to bite him, giving him a knee to the belly when he inflated his lungs to interfere with the tightening of the cinch. Twice the gelding managed to slip the bit from his mouth, and the second time Vin reached up and grabbed one black ear, twisting it sharply until he had Peso's attention and glaring into startled dark eyes.

"You listen ta me, mule," he snarled. "I ain't got the time 'r the patience fer this! I don't aim ta spend all evenin' wrasslin' with ya, 'n if'n you don't mend yer ways, I'll skin ya like a goddamn buff 'n jerk yer meat. You hear me?"

Peso's free ear worked back and forth as he considered the harsh words, and his fat pink tongue came out to slide back and forth over his lips. Finally convinced of his rider's dominance, he settled once more and whickered softly.

Tanner smiled slightly and released the ear, then scratched behind it. "Goddamn mule," he murmured with rough affection. "Y'ain't worth the peso I paid for ya."

He put the bit once more between the gelding's teeth, skillfully avoiding the habitual attempt to bite him, then checked all the cinches and straps one last time, assuring himself he would not be dumped on the freezing desert floor. He secured his bedroll and swung his saddlebags into place, then slid his rifle into its boot. And though he gave no sign of it, he listened intently to the opening and closing of the livery door, and to the muted sounds of footsteps falling against the hay.

"Damn," he sighed softly, "why cain't they jist leave me be?"

"Kinda cold for a ride, ain't it?" asked a warm, deep rumble of a voice.

Vin sighed again and rested his head momentarily against the saddle. He'd more than half expected one of the others to come after him, had only wondered which one it would be. He'd felt sure it wouldn't be Chris, was certain the gunfighter understood as few others could his need to get away for the night. But that left five others, and, damn 'em all, they'd sent the most persuasive.

"I've known colder," he answered at last, lifting his head and making one last search of his saddlebags to make sure he had everything he might need.

Josiah Sanchez leaned against a post and crossed his arms against his chest, watching through kind, concerned blue eyes as the young man before him made preparations to leave. He couldn't say he was surprised. He'd seen as clearly as anyone else how the crowds of people thronging the streets, boardwalks and businesses in town had rubbed against the solitary tracker until his nerves were frayed to the point of snapping, and more than once he'd watched Tanner all but run out of the saloon, hardware store or mercantile, unable to breathe and almost sick from the press of people and walls about him.

He'd hoped, however, that Vin would be able to overcome his dislike of crowds and close spaces enough to share this, the seven's first Christmas Eve together, in this town, with the men who had become his friends. His family.

"Yeah, I reckon you have," the preacher sighed sadly, seeing the tight set of Tanner's shoulders beneath his coat and the watchfulness of the blue eyes that were never still. "I reckon you've known a lot of cold nights and a lot of unpleasantness in your life. I was kinda hopin', though, that you'd see that don't necessarily have ta be the case no more. Got a warm place for ya here, Vin," he said gently. "Got friends who'll miss spendin' this night in your company. I was kinda hopin' you'd choose that over another cold night alone."

Vin's hands faltered as he fastened his saddlebag, and he bowed his head, dropping his arms to his sides. "Chris send ya?" he asked softly.

Josiah chuckled quietly and shook his head, amused by the tracker's suspicion that the gunfighter wasn't quite as unconcerned as he seemed. "Nope. Fact is, Brother Chris suggested we leave you alone. Said he'd hate for Nate ta have ta spend Christmas Eve patchin' up whichever one of us you shot." He arched two heavy graying brows. "You gonna shoot me, Vin?"

Tanner sighed heavily and turned slowly to face the big man. "Only if'n you gimme a reason to," he rasped softly. "Y'ain't gonna try draggin' me outta here, are ya?"

Josiah threw back his head and laughed aloud at the notion. "And get myself mauled by a Texas wildcat?" He laughed again and raised big hands in surrender. "No, thanks. Folks're expectin' me ta preach tonight, and I'd hate ta disappoint 'em."

Vin nodded tersely. "Then I reckon I won't shoot ya." He narrowed his eyes and hitched his thumbs into his gunbelt, scowling at Sanchez. "Why're you here, then?" he demanded in a low, gravelly voice, still deeply suspicious. "If'n y'ain't set on draggin' me out, I mean?"

Josiah exhaled slowly, his mirth fading, and shoved his hands into his pockets, staring sadly at the defensive young man before him. The blue eyes were cold and wary, his face set hard, his lean, taut frame radiating tension. Sanchez shook his head slowly, knowing no power on earth could keep Tanner in town when his hackles were so high.

"I'm sorry, son," he breathed sorrowfully. "I guess I didn't realize just how hard all this has been on you." He tilted his gray head slightly to one side, his expression thoughtful. "Ain't easy, is it?" he mused. "After so many years alone, suddenly to find yourself in the midst of people, to be surrounded by walls when all you've known is the freedom of wide open spaces... It's gotta be hard on you. I'm sorry I didn't see that before."

Josiah's understanding touched oddly on Vin's raw nerves, tore a soft gasp from him and sent his defenses crumbling. With a weary sigh, he sank to the hay-strewn floor and sat cross-legged upon it, bowing his head and resting his forearms on his thighs. His shoulders slumped, the tension gone from them, and his hands dangled loosely between his legs.

Josiah moved slowly forward and sat down nearby, careful not to crowd the young man too closely. With infinite patience, he remained silent, waiting for the tracker to talk.

Vin reached down and plucked a straw of hay from the floor, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and staring fixedly at it. As ever, the big man's presence acted as a balm upon his troubled soul, smoothing the edges of his nerves, settling the churning of his stomach.

"It's jist... there's so many of 'em," he said at last, his voice soft, his words halting. He stared at the piece of straw turning between his fingers, but could see only the crowds that had been pressing against him for days. "Ever'where I go, there's more of 'em, talkin' loud, rushin' about... Ain't never seen so many of 'em at once," he breathed. "'N they's all bumpin' aginst me... Been shoved inta the wall I don't know how many times, 'n damn near run over by more wagons than I kin count. No matter where I go, what I do, I cain't git away from 'em, cain't breathe..." He absently pressed his hand to his aching chest, where for days a painful pressure had been building. "Cain't breathe!" he said again.

Josiah frowned slightly, thinking. "It's to be expected, Vin," he said quietly. "Tomorrow's Christmas. Folks're rushin' about, tryin' ta get everything ready... It's a busy time. And it's a jolly time. Folks are a little louder than usual. They laugh more, holler out greetings, slap backs, grab arms, give hugs." He shrugged his broad shoulders easily. "Folks just feel happier, feel a lightness in their spirits they don't often have. And they just wanta share that with others."

"Bin grabbed 'n touched so many times, I cain't stand it," Vin whispered, cringing at the very thought. "Feller grabbed my shoulder today... I damn near shot him. Took him fer a bounty hunter sneakin' up on me... Folks oughtn't do that!" he protested hoarsely, raising wide, troubled eyes to Josiah. "Oughtn't jist reach out 'n grab ya fer no reason... C'd git 'em kilt, 'n I sure as hell don't wanta kill nobody on Christmas Eve!"

"People don't mean no harm, Vin," Josiah said gently. "Could be they just wanta share some'a what they feel with you. Y'know, you got a lotta folks here in town who like you. They respect you. They just wanta share somethin' of what this season means to them with you." He peered closely at the tracker. "You do understand what this season means ta folks, don'tcha, Vin?"

Tanner's head came up sharply at that and his eyes flashed. "'Course, I do!" he snarled. "I ain't stupid!"

"Whoa, easy," Josiah soothed, raising his hands. "I didn't mean nothin' by that, and I've never thought you were stupid. Maybe a little lackin' in some experiences, but certainly not stupid. And I'm truly sorry if I offended you."

Vin sighed sharply and ducked his head again, his anger fading. "It's all right. I know ya didn't mean nothin'. I jist... I'm sorry," he muttered miserably.

Josiah took a chance and scooted closer, then reached out and laid a big, gentle hand on one slumped shoulder. To his relief, Vin did not try to move away. "You've got nothin' ta be sorry for, brother," he said quietly, his deep voice low and soothing. He searched the down-turned face intently. "You say you know what Christmas means to others," he said softly. "Why don't you tell me what it means to you?"

Vin winced. "Cain't really say," he breathed. "Ain't had Christmas in so long... Reckon I done fergot it."

Josiah frowned deeply at the younger man. "Forgot it? How can you forget Christmas?"

Vin shrugged and raised his head, meeting Josiah's startled gaze. "Didn't see no point in rememberin' it when I didn't have it," he said matter-of-factly. "Ain't no sense thinkin' on presents y'ain't gonna git, food y'ain't gonna eat, folks y'ain't gonna see... Mebbe it meant somethin' differ'nt when I's a kid, but it ain't been nothin' since then 'cept one more cold day spent tryin' ta keep warm, tryin' ta find somethin' ta eat, tryin' not ta git caught by no bounty hunters."

Josiah felt a sharp stab of pain for the young man, hurt to think that Tanner, who had such true goodness in him, should have been deprived for so long of the season where goodness was so warmly celebrated.

"Now I done made ya feel bad," Vin sighed sadly, seeing the hurt in the older man's eyes. "I didn't want that, Josiah, honest. I know what Christmas must mean to ya, you bein' a preacher 'n all, 'n I know Buck 'n JD are fit ta bust with what Bucklin calls 'the Christmas spirit,' 'n I know Nathan takes Christmas real serious. Hell, I cain't blame him, either. I mean, I once heard a preacherman say that Jesus come ta set us all free, ta break all the chains that hold us, 'n I reckon Nathan understands what that means better'n the rest of us ever will."

"But it's not only chains like the ones that held Nathan that Jesus came to break," Josiah said quietly, his gaze holding Vin's. "It's all the chains. The chains of sin, of sorrow, of despair and hopelessness. And loneliness. And I figure you understand those kinds of chains all too well."

Vin frowned in confusion. "But I ain't lonely, Josiah. Hell, mebbe I'se lonely when I's a kid, after my ma 'n grandpa'd died, but..." He shrugged again. "After a while, I jist got used ta havin' nobody. Sorta fergot what it's like havin' folks around. So I reckon I weren't really lonely. 'N I sure as hell ain't lonely now." A slight, crooked grin lifted one corner of his mouth and lit his blue eyes. "Shit, I got six fellers around me I couldn't beat off with a stick, 'n there's Nettie, 'n you know how she kin be. 'N there's Mary, Inez, Casey, Miz Potter, the Judge... Shit, y'all're a regular crowd!" He shook his head slowly, still smiling. "Hard ta feel lonely when ya cain't sneeze without somebody runnin' over 'n stickin' their hand on yer forehead, askin' if'n yer all right."

Josiah gave a wry chuckle. "I guess we are a somewhat overpowerin' bunch at times, aren't we? But you know," he gazed evenly at Vin, "we don't mean no harm. You're one of us, and we just tend to worry about you. The same as we do anyone else we care about. Maybe sometimes we do crowd," he admitted, "but I think it's just because we forget that you've led a more solitary life than the rest of us, and that you crave solitude when the rest of us try so hard to avoid it."

Vin regarded the preacher soberly. "Reckon mebbe I do need it more'n some," he allowed. "But it's easier fer me ta sort through things in my own mind when there ain't nobody else around. Easier fer me ta hear things."

"Hear what things?"

Vin shrugged and stared past the preacher. "Jist... things. My thoughts, the Spirits..." Sudden color flooded his face, and he bowed his head again. "Reckon I shouldn'ta told you that," he muttered softly, "you bein' a preacher 'n all. Likely you're gonna think I'm a heathen, too."

Sanchez frowned deeply, a spark of anger kindling in his eyes. "Who thinks you're a heathen, Vin?"

Vin smiled slightly at that low, menacing tone. "Don't worry, ain't nobody who matters. It's jist, y'know, after all that business with Chanu, some folks around here think I'm more Indian than white." He shrugged. "But it don't matter none. I bin called a heathen before, don't rightly reckon it means nothin'. 'Less'n you think so, too," he added softly, worriedly.

Josiah smiled reassuringly. "Son, I long ago lost the right to judge anybody for their beliefs. And until I can define God for myself, then I really can't define who He is or what He should be to anyone else, can I? Besides, some of the finest men I've known have been so-called 'heathens,' while some of the vilest acts on this earth have been committed by so-called 'Christians.' And many of those acts have been committed in the name of God, which I can only think makes the Almighty hang His head in shame and sorrow." He winked and slapped Vin's thigh lightly. "So you go on listenin' ta your Spirits. Because as far as I can see, they're leadin' you down a righteous path."

Vin squinted up at the big man. "You think so?"

"Well," Josiah's heavy gray brows knit together, and he scratched his whiskered jaw, "if you don't believe me, I reckon you could ask Nathan; you didn't have ta shoot him down from that tree, y'know. Or ask Nettie. Hell, ask nearly anybody in this town! You got serious business of your own that needs tendin', but you've put it aside to help these good people find some kinda peace, build a place where they and their families can be safe. If that ain't a righteous path, brother, then I'll be damned if I know what one is."

Vin frowned thoughtfully, turning over the big man's words in his mind. He'd never really given a damn before about what anyone thought of him, but lately had been struggling with the realization that what these six men, what the folks of this town, thought did matter, and mattered a great deal. And it frightened him to think that he, who had so little experience with and understanding of people, might somehow disappoint those who'd come to mean so much to him.

"You know we're havin' services tonight at the church," Josiah said quietly, watching the tracker, able to see the struggle taking place behind the blue eyes. "Gonna have caroling, readings from Scripture, a children's pageant, and I'm gonna preach a bit." He smiled suddenly, his blue eyes twinkling. "And Brother Ezra has volunteered to read 'A Visit from St. Nick.'"

Vin looked up at that. "Volunteered?" he asked, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. "Y'mean since Inez is closin' the saloon early 'n he won't be able ta gamble, he ain't got nothin' else ta do."

"Well," Josiah's smile broadened, "you could put it that way, I suppose. But I prefer to think he was unexpectedly moved by the spirit of the season." He gazed fondly at Vin. "And you know there's always a place for you in my church," he said softly. "Even if it's a dark and quiet place in the back. You don't have to be alone, Vin, and you don't have to be cold. Our Lord came this night to draw people such as you, people who've been alone and cold for far too long, into the light and warmth of His presence."

"Ain't got no church clothes," Vin muttered, again hanging his head.

Josiah reached out and slipped a big, gentle hand under Tanner's chin, lifting his face until their eyes met. "He doesn't expect you ta dress up for Him, son," he said softly. "Remember, He came to us in a stable, born of poor folk who had little more than you. He spent His life in the company of beggars, prostitutes and outcasts, and scorned the wealth and finery of earthly princes. He simply wants you to come to Him as you are, with an open heart and a willing soul. All He wants, Vin, is for you to come out of the cold and the dark, and find a place for yourself in His light."

Vin stared into the deep, compelling blue eyes, and felt something in them -- what? faith? but in what? in him? -- tugging at his soul. Yet still uncertainty gripped him. These past few days, all he'd wanted was to get away, to escape the crush and the noise, to get away to the quiet so he could hear...

What?

A memory stirred within him. Warm hands holding his, hands bigger than his own, protecting, guiding, loving. He recalled the sharp cold of a Texas night nipping at his nose and cheeks, remembered blankets heaped about him as his grandpa drove the wagon over deeply rutted roads to the small church that awaited them. And though he could no longer see the church in his mind, he could feel its warmth, first from the stove that glowed in the corner, then from the heat of bodies that filled it, and could smell the candles and the rich, fragrant greenery that adorned the simple whitewashed walls. And there was the sound of music, of singing, of his grandpa's deep, rumbling voice like thunder rolling down from the hills, of his mother's light, sweet voice, rising to heaven in a prayer...

That was what he wanted to hear. Those voices, reminding him of who he was, what he believed, what he wanted to believe. Voices he couldn't hear so much of the time, because of all the other voices and noises about him, voices he had to go out into the dark and the cold and the silence to hear...

Didn't he?

"I'll think on it some," he said softly, rising slowly to his feet and gazing down at Josiah, the shadows of half- remembered things darkening his eyes. "Cain't make no promises, though."

Josiah sighed and nodded, knowing that to push any more would be to push Vin away entirely. "I won't ask you to, son," he said quietly. "You be careful out there, you hear?"

Vin smiled slightly at the concern -- and understanding -- in that deep voice, in those wise, sad eyes, and nodded. "I will."

Josiah watched as Vin turned and went to Peso, as he took the reins and led the big gelding out of the livery, and disappeared into the darkening streets. When the tracker had gone, Sanchez lifted his gaze heavenward, staring past the rafters to the One who, like Vin, could not be confined within walls.

"Lord, watch over that boy," he murmured softly, sadly. "He's spent so much of his life runnin', he don't rightly know how ta stop. Been alone so long he don't rightly know how ta seek out others. Been cold so long, he don't rightly remember what it's like ta be warm. But You came this night to show a cold and lonely, fearful world these very things. Show them now to Vin, Lord. Take him in Your arms and gather him to Your heart. Bring our young brother out of the cold, Lord. Bring our young brother home. Amen."

He rose to his feet and left the livery with heavy steps and heavy heart, making his way to the church to finish preparations for this evening's services.

---

Vin pulled the blanket more tightly about himself and clutched it closed with gloved hands, still cold despite it, his coat, the layers of clothes he wore beneath it and the blazing fire before him. Cold as he was, though, he could still breathe easier than he'd been able to in days, and the only voices he heard were those of the earth and the creatures of the night.

He exhaled slowly, releasing all his tension upon that breath, and lifted his eyes to the glittering heavens, fixing his gaze upon the stars he knew so well. Through so many nights in his life, those stars had been his only friends, steady and constant, the only companions never to die on him or turn on him. He'd learned to rely on them when his life had shown he could rely on no one else. Those stars were the only permanence he'd ever known.

Until he'd met up with six men who seemed to outshine even those stars, and whose steadiness and unwavering constancy even now amazed him.

Unbidden, thoughts of the six rose in his mind, lending him a warmth no fire ever could. He had not intended to think on his friends, had come out here to seek and listen to his Spirits. Tonight, though, the Spirits came to him in the guises of these men, and the trick appealed to Vin Tanner's wry and sometimes strange sense of humor.

He'd come out here to get away from those six, but, stubborn as they were, they'd found a way to follow.

He could see Buck Wilmington smiling broadly in appreciation of the joke, blue eyes gleaming mischievously, dark brows wagging up and down, his whole face alight with wicked pleasure. His tall, lanky frame exuded warmth and strength, and his long arms opened for one of the long, fierce hugs for which he was so famous. Now and again he even managed to catch Vin in one, and though the first time the tracker had fought like a wildcat caught in a trap, he was slowly learning to accept them, perhaps, in some part of himself, even to like them. Buck seemed able to shelter the whole world in those arms, against that broad chest, and Vin was gradually coming to understand just how precious such shelter could be.

Shelter of another kind could be found in Josiah Sanchez, with that great, ground-shaking voice, those knowing eyes, and the strength that could cripple a man or carry him. The preacher had known saints, but seemed to prefer the company of sinners, maybe because he knew what it was like to be bent and broken on the rocks of life, seemed to know what it was like to reach for the light and come up with only handfuls of more darkness. But like the battered, run-down church he'd made his own, Josiah offered sanctuary to every weary soul in need, and Vin had never known the doors of that great, scarred heart to close against anyone seeking refuge from the storm.

And should the storm prove particularly violent and hurtful, healing could always be found in the big hands of Nathan Jackson. For all his size and strength, the man was astonishingly gentle, and the soul that still bore the scars of cruel slavery was a bottomless well of compassion. The man had every reason to be bitter, to lash out at the world that had lashed him, but somehow he'd risen above what had been done to him and had chosen healing over hatred. So many times, Vin had felt those wondrous hands on him, soothing his fever, easing his hurts, and had rested easier simply knowing he lay in the shelter of the dark man's care.

Not all the six, however, took their strength from their size or the experience of age. JD Dunne was the smallest and youngest of them, but in courage and greatness of heart, Vin reckoned him the equal of any of the more physically imposing and older men. The boy was all raw nerve and sheer grit, sometimes far more heart than head, a David willing to take on any Goliath when someone he loved or something he knew to be right was at stake. He had a faith that couldn't be broken no matter how hard it was shaken, had a soul that refused to admit defeat, and a heart bigger than any mountain range Vin had ever seen. JD might age, but he'd never be old, and he was an endless marvel to Vin Tanner, who found it hard to remember ever having been that young.

Another marvel was Ezra Standish, the smooth-talking, fancy-dressing gambler whose molasses-thick Southern drawl concealed a wit as sharp and fast as a rattler's strike. He gazed at the world through jaded green eyes, always alert for any angle, searching for a weakness to exploit for his own ends. But lately, to his own horror and his friends' amusement, Ezra had discovered he had a heart, a conscience, and that he cared far more for his six companions and the town they protected than he could bear to admit. He, like Vin, was learning painful lessons in how to trust and be trusted, was slowly overcoming the habits of wariness and distance honed through a hard and hurtful life and struggling to let others inside walls so carefully constructed over the years. Standish could still take refuge behind fifty-dollar words and fancy suits, but more and more the real man beneath the glib grifter was beginning to slip through, and Vin found himself not only understanding, but actually liking Ezra, though just talking to him could make the tracker's head hurt something fierce.

Yet over them all towered a long black shadow, a figure of seething, deadly menace whose soul was as familiar to Vin as his own. From the moment their gazes had locked across a dusty street, Vin had known Chris Larabee as he'd never known anyone else, had recognized the lean, hard gunfighter as another part of himself. Until he'd met Chris, Vin had never understood friendship, had never wanted it, had never imagined it existed. All at once, though, it had come to him with all the force of a spring flood, as unstoppable as the turning of the earth and as necessary for his survival as the air he breathed. Chris was the hand that reached out and drew him from the familiar comfort of his shadows to the warmth and light of the fire, was the firm presence that held him steady when he would have spooked and run. In a life marked by abandonment and betrayal, Chris Larabee was the first man ever to stand at his side, to back him no matter the reason or the odds, to show him that not every burden had to be shouldered alone. For the first time since his childhood, when the winds howled and the storms raged, Vin Tanner had someone he could hold on to, someone who would anchor him and pull him to safety and stay with him until all was calm again.

All is calm, all is bright...

He tensed and cocked his head, listening as the cold wind carried the words to him from across the years. His mother's light voice, lifted in song during a Christmas service long ago, joined now by his grandpa's deeper one, the two of them flanking a small boy who felt their warmth like a living blanket about him. He closed his eyes and listened harder, trying to remember the words of the song, trying again to see the two people who'd once meant home to him.

But while their faces remained vague and their voices distant, six other faces and voices, and the faces and voices of an entire town with them, flooded his mind with such strength and clarity that he gasped and reeled from the impact. Buck beaming, Josiah knowing, Nathan comforting, JD shining, Ezra challenging, and Chris beckoning, green eyes inviting as he held out a hand once more toward a friend who clung to the shadows...

Without thinking, Vin raised his hand to Chris, instinctively seeking the strong forearm clasp that was theirs alone. But his fingers encountered only air and the vision vanished, leaving him awash in a sea of loss. And all at once the night was too dark and the world too silent, and he was colder than he'd ever been. He looked up at the stars, but they were distant, frigid, lacking the warmth and light he'd once thought they held. And the loneliness of this place was more than he could bear.

You don't have to be alone, Vin, and you don't have to be cold. Our Lord came this night to draw people such as you, people who've been alone and cold for far too long, into the light and warmth of His presence.

Josiah's words brought him to his feet without a second thought. He wiped a gloved hand across his eyes and nose, then began gathering up his gear, knowing this was not where he belonged. All that he'd tried to escape had simply come after him, sent by his Spirits to show him that his days of running were over.

You say you know what Christmas means to others. Why don't you tell me what it means to you?

"Home," he whispered unsteadily into the night. "I reckon it means it's time ta go home."

---

"...And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them at the inn."

Josiah's deep, resonant voice rolled out in rich waves over the crowded, silent church, flowing against ears and pouring into hearts, bringing the words of Luke's Gospel to life. Before him on the lectern, his worn and ragged Bible was open to the passage, but he had no need to consult it, for the words of this night were etched indelibly upon his mind and soul.

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid." His deep, shining blue gaze swept over his gathered congregation, and, as it lingered upon the five stalwart men who were his friends, he knew much of how those shepherds had felt. These men were his flock, and he would watch over them no matter how long and dark the night.

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people...."

At that moment, Josiah's eye was caught by the slow opening of the door in the back, and by the figure that crept silently in. His heart rose sharply within him and tears stung eyes as he recognized the slouch hat, the hide coat, the lean frame, as he saw his sixth sheep, his lost sheep, returning to the fold.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."

New strength filled his voice as he proclaimed the words from his heart. He spoke to everyone gathered before him, yet his eyes saw only one person, the young man hovering just at the edge of the shadows, torn between seeking refuge in the familiar darkness, or taking his place in the light. His gaze caught Vin's, held it, and, from then on, his words were meant only for the tracker.

"And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men...."

Vin swallowed hard as Josiah's words rolled over him in a warm, rich tide, as the great voice unlocked a flood of memories and brought tears sliding down his face. He let them fall, though, knowing it was safe to do so here. He could see his friends: Buck and Nathan towering above those about him, JD covertly holding Casey's hand, Ezra's red coat shining like a beacon, and Chris, even Chris was here, sitting in the back, Mary Travis on one side of him, an empty chair on the other. And as Vin watched, though the blond head never turned, though the man never gave any indication that he knew, a hand slid into the chair and patted it once in invitation, then returned to his lap.

And Vin Tanner removed his hat, wiped the tears from his face, and stepped silently out of the shadows, walking slowly but surely toward that chair, and toward all it represented.

He'd come home for Christmas.

THE END

He shifted in his chair as the makeshift choir gave joyous voice to familiar carols and let his mind wander. He was well aware of the stir his presence had caused, and smiled slightly at the memory of the countless stares and whispers that had greeted his appearance as he'd crossed the threshold. But he'd never let other people's expectations direct his actions before, and he wasn't about to start now. So let 'em stare.

Chris Larabee was here to celebrate Christmas.

He knew the townsfolk were shocked. Hell, he'd been surprised himself when he'd begun getting ready for church, and when he'd realized he was doing it without reluctance. He'd dressed carefully, donning good black trousers instead of his usual jeans, crisp white shirt and gray brocade vest, and, of all things, a string tie. He'd even knotted it himself, all the while remembering with a feeling of warmth rather than a stab of pain how Sarah used to do this for him.

But that was part of the reason he was here.

Somewhere during the past year, he'd started living again instead of simply surviving, had started feeling more than the soul-crushing pain that had defined his whole existence since Sarah and Adam's deaths. He'd wandered into this dusty, no-account town seeking only whiskey, food and a bed, and had found healing instead.

If that wasn't cause for a man to drag his carcass into church, what was?

And clearly he was not the only one to think so. As his gaze traveled about the crowded church, he caught sight of his fellow peacekeepers, and knew they were as aware of -- and as grateful for -- their own new lease on life as he was. Each of the seven had found something here he hadn't even known he'd been seeking, and they'd all been drawn here in recognition of that.

Well, almost all.

His smile died as his gaze dropped once more to the empty chair at his left, and a soft sigh escaped him. He'd known Vin was riding out, had watched for days as the solitary tracker had grown more and more panicked by the sheer number of people crowding into town and bustling about as they made their holiday preparations, and only hours ago had seen him pointing Peso toward the hills. And though he'd told himself he understood Tanner's reasons for leaving, the chair he'd saved for him pointed to another truth.

He wanted Vin with him, wanted to have at his side the man who'd put the pieces of his broken heart back together and who now held that heart in his keeping.

He sighed again and shifted once more in his seat, unable to keep his thoughts from fixing upon the scruffy, near-silent Texan who'd so quickly become the center of his existence. Even if he had ever pictured himself falling for a man, which he certainly never had, Vin Tanner had to be the last man for whom he'd consider falling. A former buffalo hunter, a former bounty hunter, rough, uneducated, illiterate, a sharpshooter who possessed an uncanny knack for pissing off others badly enough that they'd like to shoot him. Chris himself frequently wanted to shoot him.

When he didn't want to fuck the hell out of him.

He only barely suppressed another sigh at that thought. That was how he'd really hoped to spend Christmas Eve, holed up in his room with the tracker's lean, lithe body wrapped around his. Vin was the whole reason he could bear this day again, was the whole reason he could remember Sarah and Adam and past Christmases with them without wanting to die from the pain. Tanner had given him back his life, and, in return, he'd wanted to spend this night giving Tanner his love.

But the damn crowds had spooked him, and sent him running for the hills.

So now here he was, with Mary Travis on one side of him and an empty chair on the other. And though he couldn't fully appreciate this night's wondrous meaning with half his soul in hiding, still he was glad he'd come. He'd shared enough of this town's sorrows and troubles that he felt it only right to share its hope and gladness, too. Maybe he still didn't quite believe in the God this night celebrated, but he believed in the people who were celebrating, and, for now, that was good enough.

The choir finished singing, and the congregation rewarded it with a hearty round of applause, and, here and there, loud yells of praise from proud young men to their blushing sweethearts. Chris joined in the clapping and turned to Mary, who was beaming at Billy in the children's section. The young widow was lovely tonight, her golden hair gleaming with a soft burnished glow in the lamp- and candlelight, her delicate features for once completely free of the tension and worry that so often pinched them. Feisty editor had given way to doting mother, and Chris smiled fondly at the sight.

He and Mary had recognized that they didn't belong together, that neither held what the other was seeking, and with that understanding had come a new peace between them, and a depth of friendship he never would have expected. No longer having to try and force a relationship that simply wasn't there, they were more at ease in each other's company than ever before. They still fought, and likely always would, each being as headstrong as the other. Yet even in the fighting there was respect, and a certainty that both were only fighting for what they considered right.

And Chris was beginning to suspect that he wouldn't know what to do with a friend who didn't take some perverse delight in making him madder than hell.

Josiah stepped up to the lectern, and an expectant hush fell upon the congregation. Whispers ceased and shuffling stilled as the big preacher opened his Bible with wondrously reverent hands. Then the deep voice rumbled out from the cavernous chest, and Chris found himself leaning forward and listening closely to the words of Luke's Gospel.

"...And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them at the inn..."

Chris closed his eyes and bowed his head, transported back to the night Adam had been born. The joy and the wonder -- and the fear -- were with him again in all their depth and wealth as his hands curled of their own accord to take the remembered tiny weight that had been his son. Had it been like that for that couple in the stable, too? Had their fear been less than his, or had it been even greater, at the knowledge of what their child was?

Had Mary's face glowed with the same exhaustion and radiant serenity that had shown in Sarah's?

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid."

He thought about Vin then, abiding somewhere in his field, and ached at the thought of him sitting alone in the cold night. Tanner had spent so much, too much, of his life like that, a lonely shadow at the farthest edges of society, afraid to take part in what he did not always understand. Chris had hoped he could change that, that he could somehow make the younger man understand that he didn't have to hide anymore, that whenever he was worried or frightened he had a refuge waiting for him in Chris's arms. In Chris's heart.

Come on in, Tanner, he pleaded silently. Come out of the cold. Come home.

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people...."

Chris shivered as a chill burst of frigid air swept across his back, heralding a very late arrival to the service. Then he saw an expression of mingled surprise and joy chasing across Josiah's craggy face, heard a change in the timbre of the man's resonant voice, and knew with unshakable certainty his silent plea had been answered. The preacher's gaze was riveted to a spot in the shadows in the very back of the church, and, though they all heard them, Chris knew the man's words were now intended solely for the straggler.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, good will toward men...."

Chris's heart quickened in his breast, and new warmth kindled in his soul. He could feel the presence behind him, and had no need to look to know who stood there. Everything in him recognized Vin Tanner by the subtle change in the air around him, and he gave silent thanks for this most precious gift.

Still, he could well imagine how wary the tracker would be, how uncertain of the decision he'd made, and he had no desire to send the man running back out into the cold. The church was packed, and Tanner would feel the closeness of the bodies like a file against his raw nerves. So, wanting him to know he was welcome, yet wanting also to make clear the choice was his, Chris never turned his head, but simply slid his hand into the empty chair and patted it once in invitation, then returned his hand to his lap.

And all the while he held his breath.

Josiah's rich voice continued to fill the church, rising with all the beauty and majesty of the story he proclaimed. "And it came to pass, after the angels departed from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another: Let us go over to Bethlehem and let us see this word that is come to pass, which the Lord hath showed to us..."

The slow, soft footfalls were almost inaudible, yet Chris heard them as if they were thunder. Silent as a shadow, the tracker ghosted up the aisle and slid with a noiseless grace into the waiting chair. Chris turned his head to greet him, and, for a space that lasted no more than a moment yet held all of eternity in it, green eyes locked with blue, each man revealed to the other down to his soul through those portals. In Vin's eyes and on his face, Chris saw the evidence of tears and a peace so deep and true it damn near took away his breath. He didn't know what had brought the tracker home again, but he was more grateful than he could say that it had.

The two settled back and listened to the rest of the reading, their relaxed postures giving no sign of the intense awareness they had of each other's nearness. So in tune were they that they breathed as one, chests rising and falling in the same rhythm, hearts beating in perfect time. They never looked at each other, but had no need to. Blindfolded and in a dark room, each would have known that the other was there.

Josiah gave a short but powerful sermon, speaking in simple terms of the child who'd been born this very night to break all the chains that bound them, who'd come to set them free from the shackles of sin and sorrow. Vin smiled slightly as he listened, recognizing the words as the same ones Sanchez had spoken to him earlier.

But it's not only chains like the ones that held Nathan that Jesus came to break, Josiah had said in the livery. It's all the chains. The chains of sin, of sorrow, of despair and hopelessness. And loneliness. And I figure you understand those kinds of chains all too well.

His smile softened as he thought of the man sitting next to him. Maybe he did know those chains, and maybe they had once bound him. But they were gone now, broken by the man who'd both claimed him and set him free.

Lord, Lord, what had ever made him think he wanted to be away from this man?

When he'd said all he wanted to, Josiah gently closed his Bible and raised it to his lips, placing a reverent kiss to its worn cover. Even through his deep doubts about his fitness to preach this word, and with the weight of his own sins pressing heavily upon his soul, still he marveled at the awe such moments as these stirred in him. The same folks who looked to him to deliver them with his gun were now looking to him to deliver them with the Gospel. He prayed fervently that words of peace from a man of blood might somehow bear fruit.

With the service ended, a loud hubbub of talk soon filled the church, accompanied by the creak of pews and the scrape of chairs. Children laughed and capered in the frenzied anticipation of the impending visit from old St. Nick, and parents already harried by days of preparation were even more harried by the task of corralling their excited offspring. A swell of people surged forth to surround Josiah and congratulate him on his sermon, while here and there smaller knots formed as plans for visiting back and forth tomorrow were confirmed.

Chris stood firm and unmoving amid the constantly shifting streams of humanity, though, more than once, he had to suppress the urge to move closer to Vin, to place himself as a barrier between the tracker and the crowds that so unnerved him. What he did not do, however, others did, and a small, knowing smile tugged at his mouth as, slowly but surely, he was joined by Buck, Ezra, JD and Casey, Nathan, Mrs. Potter and Mary, all coming together without conscious thought to form a loose but protective circle about the man they knew would bolt without hesitation the moment the crowd pressed too close.

Nettie Wells, however, as was her way, showed not the slightest subtlety in her intent. She pushed through the crowd like a small steam clipper and planted herself firmly at Vin's side, latching on to his arm with the possessiveness of a she-grizzly and glaring away anyone who drew too close.

"It's about time you showed some sense and came out of the cold, Vin Tanner," she declared, staring sternly up into his face. "You put a powerful worry on me, young man, and I don't appreciate it one bit."

He winced and bowed his head, able to feel the flush creeping into his cheeks. He held his hat in his hands and worried its wide brim through his fingers, stung with guilt at his own foolishness.

"I'm sorry, Nettie," he rasped softly, his shoulders drooping. "I didn't mean ta worry ya. I jist... I jist needed ta git away. All these folks..." He raised his head and gazed down at her, his eyes wide and dark with remembered panic. "I jist couldn't take 'em all bein' so close no more. You know how it is."

Those eyes and that soft voice undid her, as they did every time. Her anger faded and she smiled warmly, placing her small, gnarled hand upon his larger, finely-boned one. "I know, son," she assured him, her eyes filled with all the affection he inspired in her. "I do. But just you remember, you got folks around ya now who worry about ya. Y'ain't alone no more, Vin Tanner, and there ain't no sense in you actin' like ya are."

A small, shy smile curved about his mouth, and it was all he could do not to look at Chris. "I know that now," he breathed. "Met me some Spirits up in the hills, 'n they told me that."

Nettie arched an iron-gray brow at that. She knew some of his history with various tribes, knew he still held to a number of their ways, and knew that, as a good Christian woman, she probably ought to disapprove of such "heathen" talk. But she also knew him, and doubted there were many regular church-going folk who could claim a soul as true as his.

"These Spirits the ones that sent ya home?" she asked cautiously. When he nodded, she did, too. "Good. At least they got some sense, then. Now, Casey and me have ta go. The Petersons are escortin' us home, and I can see old Hiram chompin' at the bit ta be gone." Again, that brow flicked upward and her eyes drilled into his. "You're comin' over tomorrow for Christmas dinner." It was a statement, not a question, and smiles broke out on various faces at the sight of the little old woman ordering the deadly marksman about.

But Vin warmed and smiled broadly at her tone, knowing he'd been claimed by her, as well, and finding only comfort in the thought. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away," he assured her.

She snorted and shook her head. "Ain't worried about wild horses, son. I'm worried about wild outlaws and some of the wild notions you get. And I'm tellin' you now, if you're not there before dark, I'm gonna have me a talk of my own with these Spirits' of yours, and we'll all come after you. And I'll be totin' my Spencer."

He laughed at that and squeezed her hand, his eyes bright with love. "I'll be there. My word as a Tanner."

Again she softened, and reached up to lay a hand against his whiskered cheek. "Well," she said with a loving smile, "a body can't ask for more than that." She searched his face with a mother's need to know he was well, then nodded, reassured. "You take care of yourself, y'hear? Stay warm." Never caring that he'd been looking after himself for most of his life, she wound his scarf about his neck, shaking her head at its ragged thinness, then tugged the edges of his coat together and buttoned it. "Y'ain't got enough meat on your bones ta keep out the cold, and we both know the frost is gonna be heavy tonight. I don't wanta be visitin' you up in Nathan's clinic because you don't know enough ta sleep under a roof instead of in that gol'darned wagon of yours." Unexpectedly, she turned to Chris and impaled him with her direct stare. "I'll expect you to see to it that he sleeps inside tonight, in a real bed, with real blankets. You do that for me?"

Larabee nearly choked, but managed to draw a breath and nod. "Yes, ma'am," he answered solemnly, if somewhat harshly, pointedly ignoring Tanner's smirk. "I'll do what I can."

"Hm," she grunted non-committally, her gaze still imprisoning his, "I'm sure you will."

---

They finally left the church, deciding to make one last pass around town before heading to the boardinghouse. The night had grown colder still, the cutting chill slicing right through layers of clothing and even flesh, piercing straight to the bone. The wind was light, but held a dagger's edge that scraped painfully against exposed cheeks and ears. Both men pulled their hats lower, their scarves higher, hunkered down inside their coats and shoved gloved hands deeply into pockets.

"And you were gonna stay out in this tonight," Chris grumbled, slanting a disbelieving glare at his companion.

Vin ducked his head and shrugged. "Wasn't thinkin' straight," he admitted, his breath pluming in the frozen air. "Jist couldn't take it no more. All them folks, pushin' up against me..." He shuddered at the remembered feel of being so hemmed in. "I needed ta think, 'n I jist couldn't do it here."

They moved down the deserted boardwalk, relishing the uncharacteristic quiet of the town and the rare luxury of simply being together without fear of interruption. JD had joined the Petersons in escorting Nettie and Casey home, and Nathan had returned to his clinic for a good night's sleep. He was riding out early tomorrow morning to visit Rain, and had issued a stern warning that none of them were to spoil his holiday by getting sick or injured. Josiah had remained at the church, Ezra had disappeared to a Christmas party that they suspected was actually a poker game, and Buck, being Buck, had gleefully announced that he was off to a party of his own with the lovely and lonesome Violet.

"Gonna let her shake my tree, see what presents fall out," he declared with a broad, bright smile and a leering jiggle of his glossy black brows.

So now they were alone, and deeply content to be so. Despite the aching cold, the peace of the night wrapped itself around them and smoothed away all tension and thoughts of troubles, itself a gift to men who knew so little of its like. High above, a vast multitude of stars winked and glittered in the clear sky like diamond dust against black silk, and the silver moon shone clear and bright, its light another gift.

"Did ya?" Chris asked at last, jiggling the door of the bank to make sure it was locked. "Think, I mean."

Vin cast a slow, warm smile at him and nodded. "Yeah."

Chris faced him and waited for more, then exhaled a sharp plume of air. "And?" he prompted. And folks thought he hated to talk!

Vin nodded again, his smile spreading. "Reckon I got it all sorted out."

Chris sighed again and shook his head resignedly, knowing this would be a word-by-word tugging match. "You gonna share this new-found wisdom?"

Vin chuckled softly, enjoying the man's impatience. Too many folks stepped too lightly around Larabee, figured they'd get shot if they riled him. But Tanner reckoned he needed to be riled, needed to be teased; got his blood pumpin' and knocked him off that high horse he liked to ride. And if he got shot, well, so be it. At least he wouldn't die at the end of a rope.

"Might," he drawled.

Chris scowled and stepped closer to him. "So help me, Tanner--"

"Cain't shoot me," Vin reminded him. "Nathan'd be right pissed."

"If I kill ya," Chris growled, "Nathan won't have ta be bothered."

Vin cocked his head to one side and frowned. "There is that," he said thoughtfully. "'Course, Josiah'd be pissed at havin' ta preach a funeral at Christmas. 'N I jist ain't sure I'd want Josiah pissed at me."

"But you don't mind havin' me pissed at ya," Larabee gritted.

Vin lifted his head enough that Chris could see his eyes beneath the brim of his hat and winked. "Reckon I know how ta settle ya down," he said with a lazy smile.

Chris swallowed hard as those words and that smile sent a sliver of heat shooting through him. "Awful damn sure of yourself, aren'tcha, Tanner?" he rasped, his throat -- and pants -- tightening.

Again, Vin's head tilted gently to one side and he gazed at Chris through smiling eyes. "Always been told I'm a cocky bastard."

Chris gave a low growl at that, and a fierce, wolfish smile curved about his full mouth. He stepped closer still, his body just brushing Vin's. His eyes were shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, but Tanner could almost feel the heat pouring from them. "Well," he breathed in a low, throaty voice, "I reckon I'll just have ta see about that."

Vin shivered as the promise in that voice ignited a slow burn deep in his belly. His breath caught in his throat and he licked his lips, acutely aware of Larabee's nearness. "Y... ya reckon?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, yeah." He reached out and lightly fingered the worn scarf at the younger man's throat. "Told Nettie I'd make sure you kept warm tonight," he murmured, his breath fanning hotly against Tanner's frozen cheek. "Make sure you sleep in a real bed." He dropped his hand, but did not step away. "I take such things real seriously," he breathed. "A man's gotta keep his word."

"Reckon he does," Vin drawled softly, gazing raptly at Larabee and feeling the man in every part of his being. "A man's word should be his bond."

Chris' smile grew as he heard the desire in that husky voice. "You must've gotten awful cold up in them hills. Could be you'll require a lotta warmin' up."

Vin licked his lips again as the heat in his belly sank further south. "Gettin' kinda warm now. Might be I need ta go somewhere's 'n shuck some'a these clothes."

Chris's eyes shone with enough heat to warm the whole town. "Well, then," he rasped, only barely suppressing the urge to grab Tanner and drag him down the street at a dead run, "let's see what we can do about that."

---

They managed somehow not to run up the stairs to the second floor, managed not to clutch and claw at each other as they forced themselves to climb at a respectable pace. But when Vin lingered a few moments too long outside the door to Chris's room, instinctively looking around for any sign of danger, he felt strong hands clamp down upon his coat and yelped as he was hauled roughly inside.

"Goddamn it!" he snarled as Larabee kicked the door shut. "Give a body some warnin' next ti--" His words were swallowed up by the hard mouth that descended abruptly upon his, and he was suddenly grateful for the hands that still gripped his coat as the ferocity of that kiss caused his knees to buckle. "Oh, Lord!" he moaned, sinking into that kiss.

"Nope," Chris growled into Vin's mouth. "He's already had his celebration. This party's for you and me."

"'Kay," Vin breathed, twining his arms about the man and holding tightly to him. Chris's taste and scent went straight through him, filling his head and fueling the hungry ache at his crotch. A hot wind swept through him and his soul took wing upon it, soaring aloft in wild exhilaration.

Chris buried his mouth in Vin's with a thick groan, clutching the tracker to him and losing himself in the familiar scent of the man. His tongue swept the warm cavern of Tanner's mouth, then sought its mate, and the two twined and danced in an intricate ritual. With every breath, he drew Vin more deeply into himself, until he could no longer tell where he ended and the Texan began, until any distinction between them simply disappeared.

"Oh, God, I'm glad you came back!" he breathed shakily, withdrawing gently from the kiss to gaze into his lover's eyes. Smiling slightly, his own eyes shimmering with light and love, he cupped a hand to Vin's cold, whiskered face and tenderly brushed a callused thumb against the hard ridge of his cheekbone. "Wanta tell me why ya did?"

Vin closed his eyes and nestled his face into that caress, even now amazed that the hand so skilled at killing could touch him with such love. "Reckon this's the biggest part of it," he rasped, a slight tremor in his voice. "I thought I needed ta get away, but y'all jist followed me out there. Wouldn't let me be. Then I saw you, standin' over me, not sayin' a word, jist lookin' down at me 'n reachin' fer me. But when I reached back, you disappeared..." He lifted his head and opened his eyes, the blue depths dark with enormous loss. "I never felt so alone in all my life," he whispered, the pain of it searing through him anew. "I mean, I been alone before... Hell, I been alone one way 'r another nearly as long as I c'n recall. But it ain't ever hurt like it did then, 'n I ain't ever wanted so much not ta be alone no more."

Chris swallowed hard, feeling Vin's pain as if it were his own, and gently brushed away the single tear that slid down the tracker's cheek. Suddenly he realized that they'd all gotten so used to Vin's solitary ways that they simply forgot he was as vulnerable to loneliness as any of them were.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I shouldn't have let you go. I didn't want to; I wanted you to stay with me. But I thought you needed--"

"I did," Vin said softly, smiling weakly. "I got so lost in all the folks crowdin' around me that I couldn't see what I had right before me. Wasn't 'til I got out there, where there weren't nobody else, that I could see what the Spirits was tryin' ta show me."

"And what did they show you?" Chris asked softly, slowly stroking Tanner's beautifully square jaw.

Vin laughed quietly and leaned forward, pressing a light, quick kiss to Chris's mouth. "That I needed ta git my ass back home where it belonged."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "I like these Spirits of yours!" He sobered then, and regarded Tanner steadily. "And are you? Home, I mean."

"You're here ain'tcha?" Vin breathed. "Home ain't this town, Chris. Home is you. That's what the Spirits was tellin' me when ya reached fer me. Jist like it'd been when I was little, when home was with my ma 'n grandpa."

"You see them, too?" he asked softly, envying Vin's ease with such things. He wasn't sure he believed in Tanner's "Spirits" any more than he believed in Josiah's God, but he couldn't help admiring the natural way both men accepted the presence of those unseen forces in their lives.

"Yeah," Vin answered with a soft smile. "I remembered when we'd go ta church on Christmas Eve. We'd all wrap up real tight 'n warm and ride in the wagon, 'n Grandpa'd tell me the Christmas story on the way. We'd get there in time ta eat before the service -- ever'body always brought somethin', even them who didn't have much, 'n it was always a real nice spread -- then the grown folk would sing whilst all us kids watched the preacher put the Baby Jesus in the manger. We was all dressed up like shepherds 'n angels -- us boys was the shepherds 'n the girls was angels -- and it was jist like bein' there when it really happened. Always made it mean more when the preacher read the story from the Bible."

"That sounds real nice," Chris said, smiling at the visions Vin's softly drawled words invoked. "Adam was a shepherd one year." He laughed and shook his head. "He thought that meant I was gonna get him a sheep. Told him I'd carve him one, but he wanted a real one. But Sarah drew the line at sheep."

"Reckon she was right," Vin said with a mischievous grin. "Be kinda hard ta take an ol' sheep farmer serious."

Larabee scowled and narrowed his eyes. "Hell, Tanner, you don't take me seriously now!"

"'At's where yer wrong, cowboy," Vin breathed, pressing himself close against Chris. "I take ya real serious. Else I wouldn'ta come back."

Chris shivered and licked his lips as Vin's warmth swept through him. "Thought you were gonna shuck some of them clothes?" he rasped.

Blue eyes wide and eternities deep snared the gunfighter's soul. "You gonna keep me warm like ya promised Nettie?" he whispered.

Chris swallowed hard and nodded, his blood turning to liquid fire. "I'm sure I can think of somethin'."

"Reckon ya can," Vin said with a wink. "Always said yer a real smart feller."

"Start strippin'!" Larabee ordered harshly, his eyes glittering as his pants constricted by at least a size. "If I know you, you're wearin' every shirt you got under that coat, and I don't wanta still be peelin' you when the sun comes up."

Vin sighed and shook his head, his expression sorrowful. "Some folks jist ain't got no patience at all," he lamented, stepping back and unbuttoning his coat. "Must be hell gittin' old 'n crotchety."

"You're quick losin' any chance of findin' out," Chris growled. "And I'm about ta be five hundred dollars richer."

"Hmph," Vin snorted, slipping out of his coat. "Knowin' you, you'd only spend it on more black clothes. Y'know, there are other colors out there."

"I wear other colors!" Larabee seethed through clenched teeth.

"Oh, yeah," Vin said, snapping his fingers. "Fergot about the gray shirt."

"You wanta sleep out in the cold after all?"

"You wanta tell Nettie why I died of pneumonia?"

"This is why they slapped that bounty on you, isn't it?" Chris asked in exasperation, setting his hands on his hips and glaring at Tanner. "Not for murder, but just for pissin' people off!"

"Well," Vin grinned slyly, "reckon I did get a few choice words in 'fore I lit out."

"I'll just bet you did," Chris chuckled. "C'mere, you."

Vin frowned warily, but went forward. "What?"

Chris stepped closer and kissed him, then began unbuttoning his shirt. "Nothin'. I just wanta unwrap my Christmas gift, is all."

Vin's frown deepened as confusion rose through him. "I ain't yer gift--"

"Yeah, ya are. Your Spirits brought ya to me on Christmas Eve, didn't they?" He smiled into bewildered blue eyes. "Reckon that makes you a Christmas present. 'Bout the best damn one I ever got, too."

The words, light and teasing as they were, reached deeply into Vin's soul and warmed it, chasing away the doubt and fear that lived there. He had so little experience with this, was still getting used to the feeling of being loved so completely, and even now the enormity of it could still overwhelm him.

He wondered if maybe that wasn't part of what had driven him into the hills tonight, too.

Chris saw the uncertainty, the vulnerability, that sprang suddenly into the tracker's eyes, and he immediately set aside all teasing, his eyes, voice and touch gentling at once. "Hey, pard," he called softly, "you all right?"

Vin swallowed and nodded. "Yeah," he breathed, bowing his head. "I jist..." He swallowed again, then raised his head with an effort and forced himself to give voice to his feelings. "I ain't ever had nobody like you before. I mean, there's been others, but..." He reached out and laid a hand over Larabee's heart. "Ain't anybody ever kep' me in here before," he whispered, staring into the green eyes that had become permanent fixtures in his dreams. "Ain't anybody ever said I's a gift."

Chris laid a hand over Vin's. "Well, I'm sayin' it," he insisted softly. "You are a gift, Vin, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for ya."

Vin heard the truth in Chris's words, saw it shining in his eyes, and wondered what he'd ever done to deserve the man standing before him. He knew all the wrongs he'd done, could pretty well name all the mistakes he'd made. What escaped him, though, was the one thing he'd done right enough to merit the love of a man like Chris Larabee.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me?" Chris asked lightly, reaching out to push the hair back from Vin's face. "Ain't you got anything ta say?'

A slow smile spread over Vin's face and lit his eyes. "I'm awful glad I came back," he breathed.

Chris chuckled softly and lightly ran the backs of his fingers over Vin's jaw. "I am, too." He bowed his head and pressed his lips softly to Tanner's. "More than you'll ever know."

Vin moaned and shivered as that mouth worked its magic upon him, as Chris showered a series of slow, breathtakingly gentle kisses against his lips, down to his chin and along his jaw. Then it swept through his hair and found his ear, tongue dancing lightly around the delicate shell, teeth nipping at the tender lobe, and he loosed another moan, his breath quickening, his heart hammering fiercely against his ribs.

"Oh, God... Chris..." he hissed, clutching at Larabee for support as his knees turned to water.

From Vin's ear, Chris kissed, licked and nibbled his way down his long, inviting throat, scraping his teeth over the pulse throbbing beneath warm flesh, then sucking at Tanner's Adam's apple. All the while, he worked to undress the tracker, pushing the brown leather suspenders off his shoulders and down his arms, tugging the shirt from the waistband of his pants and unbuttoning it with nimble fingers, then slipping it from his body.

And, as he'd expected, he encountered another shirt beneath it.

"Don't say nothin'," Vin growled, pulling back his head and glaring fiercely to forestall the familiar complaint. "I git cold, 'n that's that. If it's too much work fer ya, I c'n always go back ta my room."

"Did I say anything?" Chris asked, lifting a blond brow.

"No, but you was gonna. You always do."

Chris grinned slyly at the ferocious face of his lover. "But this is Christmas, pard," he said in a low, silken voice, carefully unbuttoning the second shirt. "And everybody knows that half the fun of Christmas is unwrappin' your presents."

"Well," Vin drawled, unable to suppress the shiver that rippled through him as those long, sure fingers worked their way down his chest, "I reckon that's all right, then."

"Thought you'd see it my way," Chris said with a smirk, peeling the shirt from the Texan and surprised to see an undershirt beneath. "Only two?"

Vin narrowed his eyes, then lifted his chin defiantly. "Could be I got another undershirt on under this'un. You got a problem with that?"

"Nope." Chris swooped forward and kissed him again. "I like ta see ya keepin' warm. Don't wantcha gettin' sick."

"Oh," Vin breathed as another shiver ran through him. "Reckon I'll be plenty warm if you keep this up."

"Don't worry, pard," Chris assured him with a wicked smile, "I plan ta keep lotsa things up."

Vin dropped his gaze to the bulge straining against Larabee's black pants and absently licked his lips. "Looks like yer makin' a good start of it," he rasped, acutely aware of his own aching hardness. "Gettin' a mite close in there, though." He reached out and trailed long fingers slowly down the gunman's crotch. "Mebbe we should make some room."

Chris gasped and shuddered as those fingers tormented him, as their light touch sent currents of fire and pain shooting through him. Vin stroked him slowly through his trousers, and he closed his eyes and panted harshly in time to that agonizing caress.

Vin smiled wickedly at the mingled torment and delight on Larabee's face. As he unbuttoned the fly and slipped his hand within, Chris shuddered again and cried out hoarsely, and Vin chuckled triumphantly. "Payback is hell, ain't it, cowboy?"

"Not... hell," Chris gasped as those skillful fingers freed his throbbing erection and slid over its length. "Never... hell... with you."

Vin leaned forward and softly kissed him. "Good," he breathed. "I reckon we've both seen enough hell. Time fer us ta see heaven."

Chris ran trembling fingers through Vin's long hair, then slid his hand to the back of the tracker's neck and pulled him close once more. "Got you with me," he whispered, his mouth hungrily seeking Vin's. "Reckon I'm already there."

They came together with a hungry intensity born not of lust but of love, mouths meeting, arms twining, bodies surging with the heat of raging passion. With the ease of long practice they quickly stripped each other of guns and clothing, hands stroking, kneading, groping as they worked, the frantic caresses only adding fuel to the fire. Moans, shuddering gasps and growls of pleasure tore from them as they explored each other with a wild abandon, each taking deep delight in bringing the other into the full frenzy of arousal.

With his mouth still laying savage claim to Vin's, Chris gripped his lover by the arms and pushed him down onto the bed, covering the lean body with his own. Vin wrapped slim but iron-hard legs around his and raked strong fingers down his back, thrusting and writhing furiously against him. The friction of that body against his was almost more than Chris could bear, sent hard, hot waves of pain and pleasure crashing through him, awakened in him a wildness that was Tanner's gift to him. No one had ever so completely shattered his control, stripping away every last vestige of restraint and leaving him wholly at the mercy of his own desires. Only in Vin's arms had he discovered this part of himself, and he intended now to unleash upon the Texan the ravenous beast he'd created.

"Got my present unwrapped," he growled, imprisoning Tanner's wrists against the mattress and staring through glittering eyes into his lover's darkly flushed face. He ground his crotch into Vin's, his hard, thick cock sawing against the tracker's and tearing a thick, anguished cry from him. "Think it's time ta play with it now."

"So quit yer yappin' 'n do it!" Vin snarled, arching frantically against him. "Goddamn gunfighter... don't say three words a day... 'til he gets on top of me-- SHIT!" he yelped, nearly bucking Larabee off when the man slid a hand between their bodies and grasped his cock.

"Now look who won't shut up," Chris gasped through clenched teeth, working Vin's cock from root to head, tearing a series of wordless whimpers and groans from him. "And you're s'posed ta be the silent type."

"Goddamn it, Larabee!" Vin spat, his voice a broken, breathless rasp. "You don't fuck me now, the nex' sound you hear'll be my gun shootin' yer sorry ass!"

"You ol' sweet-talker, you. And here I thought Buck was the smooth one." He released Vin and sat up, reaching across the tracker to the nightstand and retrieving the tin of oil waiting there. As he pried off the lid, he saw Tanner's hand close about his own cock, and smacked it away. "That's mine," he warned. "Don't want nobody but me playin' with my presents."

"Then hurry the hell up 'fore I die of neglect!"

"You're such a poor thing." He popped off the lid and dragged two fingers through the oil. "Got such a hard damn life."

"Gettin' harder all the time," Vin smirked, rubbing his aching, swollen staff against Larabee's. "'N it seems I ain't the only one."

Chris loosed a hissing breath as Vin's cock slid slowly up and down his own, driving slivers of white hot pain into his flesh. "Fuckin' tease!"

"Yer the one doin' all the teasin' 'n precious little fuckin'! I-- JESUS!" he cried hoarsely as oiled fingers reclaimed his cock.

"Told ya," Chris panted, pumping Vin in time to his own ragged breathing, "he ain't here. This party's for me and you."

Vin tried to voice a retort, but managed only a broken whimper. He thrust desperately into Chris's hand, his every nerve on fire, his whole body screaming in agony. Tears streamed from his eyes and ran into his sweat-sodden hair, and his hands clawed frantically at the bedding beneath him.

"Easy, pard, easy," Chris soothed, positioning himself beneath Vin and oiling his own waiting, weeping cock. "Gonna make it all better soon. Just like you've made everything better for me." He slid his fingers down Vin's cock to his full balls, cupping and kneading them and drawing forth another sobbing moan, then dragging a finger to the dark, puckered hole behind them. "You know that's what you've done, don't you?" he breathed hoarsely, rimming the hole with his finger. "Made everything better for me? Made it so I can remember without wantin' ta die? You're healin' me, Vin, and now I'm gonna do the same for you."

Tanner gasped and arched as that finger entered him and played agonizingly inside him. It found and brushed against his gland, and he nearly came on the spot.

"Not yet," Chris gritted, inserting another finger and clamping his other hand against Vin's hip to still him. "Gotta wait for it, pard--"

"Don't wanta... wait," Vin moaned, thrusting down upon those fingers. "Wantcha... now... please!"

Chris steeled himself against that plea, and against his own urgent need. "Can't rush it," he rasped. "Don't wanta hurt ya."

"I don't care--"

"I do." He slid in a third finger, stroking and massaging until he felt the tight muscle ring relax beneath the pressure. "Don't ever wanta hurt ya," he whispered, withdrawing his fingers and positioning his cock at that beckoning entrance. "Only wanta love ya."

"Oh, God!" Vin sobbed as Larabee finally slid into him, as that wondrous heat and hardness filled him. The familiar pain came, but quickly fled, leaving only the pleasure that was Chris in its wake. "Please!" he begged. "Love me now!"

And Chris did. With all the care he could muster, he slid slowly into Vin, shuddering and crying out harshly as the hot, tight channel closed about him. Tanner's body accepted him, welcomed him, and lured him ever deeper. Without hesitation, he surrendered to its summons and pushed all the way inside, imbedding himself in his lover. A sea of molten heat engulfed him, tearing another cry from him, and he pulled out slowly, holding himself suspended for an agonizing moment, then plunging into it anew.

Vin clamped his legs hard about Chris and lifted himself to drive Chris more deeply still into him. He wanted this, needed this, feared he would die without it. Chris filled him, consumed him, stirred in him wants and desires more intense than he'd ever known. With Chris inside him, he was complete.

They loved with a shattering ferocity, coming together in an intimate union that was far more than physical. Each time Chris thrust, Vin rose to meet him, their bodies moving as one, their souls forged together in the heat of their joining. Everything else around them faded into oblivion. They were all that existed in the world.

Chris claimed Vin's cock and pumped it as he drove into Vin's body, working the man inside and out. Vin arched and thrust in mindless ecstasy, feeling Chris in every part of his being. Together they soared aloft on the burning winds of passion, and as one they burst into glorious release.

Chris erupted into Vin as Vin jetted over him, the pungent scent of their sex hanging heavily between them. Sweat- and seed-slick bodies surged powerfully together, and their cries mingled as they gave themselves over to the soul-searing pleasure of the moment. Time itself seemed to stop, and for a measureless span they floated, suspended in a state of blessed oneness. Vin lived in Chris, and Chris in Vin, joined in body, mind and soul, two hearts melding into a whole.

But even with them, such a time could not last, and, inevitably, physical reality reasserted itself. Exhausted, drained and spent, Chris eased his softened, empty flesh out of Vin and collapsed bonelessly onto the bed, panting and trembling, his limbs turned to jelly. He closed his eyes and slid a rubbery arm toward his lover, still craving contact with him.

Deprived of the feel of Chris's heat inside him, Vin sought solace in his warmth against him and curved himself as closely as he could into the shelter of Larabee's embrace. Their bodies fit perfectly together, his back to Chris's chest, his head pillowed against the man's shoulder, their arms and legs entwined. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, a soft, slight smile upon his face.

Larabee pulled the covers up over them, wanting to stave off the growing chill. He knew they needed to clean up, but, for now, he simply wanted to savor this precious closeness.

"Glad ya came back," he breathed, resting a cheek against the tracker's long hair. "A man shouldn't spend Christmas Eve alone when he's got somewhere better ta be, and somebody there waitin' for him."

"Guess I jist wasn't thinkin'," Vin admitted. "Reckon I still ain't used ta knowin' I got all that."

"You better get used to it," Chris warned solemnly, "because this is how it's gonna be from now on. You try ta run out on me in the future, and I'll track you down and drag you back."

Vin turned onto his back and gazed up at Chris, frowning thoughtfully. "You see me there?" he asked softly. "In yer future, I mean."

Chris ran a gentle forefinger over Vin's face, tracing the line of his nose, his mouth, his chin and jaw. "You gotta be there, pard," he said soberly. "'Cause I don't have a future without you. I don't have anything without you."

Vin smiled at that. "'N I ain't got nothin' without you. Finally figgered that out up in them hills."

Chris laughed. "Well, I always said you're not the fastest on the draw, but give you time and you'll hit the target."

"Uppity damn bastard, ain'tcha?" Vin growled.

Chris winked. "So I been told."

"Hmph."

Larabee arched a golden brow. "You start sulkin' and you won't get your present."

Vin's scowl disappeared into an expression of wide-eyed disbelief. "I got a present?"

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" Chris asked. "Don't you usually get a present on Christmas?"

Vin shrugged lightly. "Not since I's a kid."

Chris blinked at that, nonplussed by the tracker's calm statement. It still jarred him to realize that the emptiness he'd known for three years had marked most of the younger man's life.

"'S all right, Chris," Vin said quickly, stung by the dismay that spread over his lover's face. "It ain't been so bad--"

"It's not all right," Chris interrupted harshly, pain darkening his eyes. "When I think about the life you've had, or haven't had... God, Vin, you deserve so much more--"

"And I got it now," Tanner said quietly. "Got more now than I ever dreamed of. Got more than I knew a body could have." He reached up and ran loving fingers through Chris's bright hair, smiling into those deep green eyes. "The past is the past 'n cain't be changed," he said softly. "Don't do no good frettin' over what's been. And the future," he shrugged, "it ain't no more'n smoke on the wind. It's right now that matters, 'cause it's here and it's real. Ain't no point in lookin' back or ahead when I got all I could ever want in the here 'n now."

Chris bowed his head and kissed him tenderly. "You're a goddamn marvel, you know that? And you're gonna make me a happy man in spite of myself."

"Hell, somebody's gotta do it," Vin grumbled. "'N it ain't like folks is exactly linin' up fer the job."

Chris narrowed his eyes and scowled darkly. "Now who's the uppity damn bastard?"

Vin winked. "Been learnin' from the best."

"Shit," Chris snorted, "you don't need ta learn that. You got natural talent."

Vin arched a brow. "You gonna spend all night insultin' me, or ya gonna gimme my present?"

Chris tried to glare, but the sparkle of anticipation in those blue eyes was too much to resist. Tanner rarely showed his youth, but, when he did, it took away Larabee's breath, and he knew he'd do anything in his power to make that expression linger.

"Yeah," he said with a soft smile. "Let's get cleaned up and dressed, then I'll give you your present."

Vin was out of the bed like a shot, and Larabee had to laugh at the sight of the deadliest man he'd ever known displaying such boyish excitement. He was suddenly reminded of Adam, of the way he'd raced to the tree on Christmas morning and all but dived into his presents. The memory was one he treasured, yet still it hurt him to think that while Adam's childhood had been cut short by death, Vin's had been cut short by life.

But he was gonna do his damnedest to make sure that life was kinder to his tracker in the future.

They cleaned up hurriedly, Vin flicking water on Chris in his excitement and laughing gleefully at the scowl darkening the gunman's face. And though he tried not to show it, that laugh, so clear and full, set Larabee's spirit soaring. For this little while, the darkness of Vin's past receded, the shadow of the bounty and the hangman's noose disappeared, and Chris saw him as the wild, free creature he'd been meant to be.

And he fell in love all over again.

"All right," he said at last, "you go sit down on the bed and try ta behave, and I'll get your presents."

Vin's eyes widened as surprise flickered over his face. "Presents?" he repeated softly. "Ya got me more'n one?"

"There some law says you only get one?"

"Well, no. But... but I..." He sighed and bowed his head, frowning down at the floor. "I only got you one," he murmured guiltily.

"Hey." Chris reached out and tapped Vin's cheek with a finger until he raised his head. Smiling gently into the disappointed blue eyes, he said softly, "This ain't a contest. If it comes from the heart, I don't care how many or how few I get. Hell, you didn't even have ta get me anything. I got you, and that's enough ta last me a lifetime."

Vin blinked in confusion. "Me? But I ain't--"

"Yeah, you are," Chris said firmly, gazing raptly at Tanner through green eyes dark with feeling. "Every day, you give me a little more of my life back, a little more of my heart back. When Sarah died, I swore I'd never love anyone like that again. Hell, never love anyone at all. But here you are, makin' the world's biggest liar outta me. That ain't just a gift, Vin. That's the greatest gift,and you give it to me every day."

Tanner had no answer for that, couldn't have spoken if he'd tried. But he had no need for words. Everything he felt shone plainly in his eyes.

"Now, go sit down, and I'll bring 'em to ya."

Vin nodded silently and turned away, going toward the bed. First, though, he stopped at his coat and rummaged through its folds, pulling out a long package wrapped in bright-colored paper. Holding it in his hand, he stared at it appraisingly for several moments, considering. Then, satisfied, he nodded once and went to the bed, sitting cross-legged upon it and waiting with his usual patience.

Chris went to the wardrobe and opened it, pulling out two packages. Smiling to himself in anticipation of Vin's reaction, he turned and crossed the room, joining his lover on the bed. He held out the gifts, one wrapped in red tinfoil, the other in plain brown paper and tied neatly with a string.

"Had ta send off for this one," he said, lifting the one in brown paper. "Just got it yesterday, and didn't have time to wrap it prettier. Sorry about that."

Vin stared at him in wonder. "You... you sent off fer somethin'?" he breathed in disbelief. "Fer me?"

"Had to," Chris said with a shrug. "I couldn't find it here, and I really wanted you ta have it." He held it out further. "Open it."

Vin thought a moment, then reached for the other. "This'un first," he said, surprising Chris. "Wanta save that one fer last. Ain't ever had a sent-for gift before, 'n I wanta make it last."

Chris swallowed hard and simply nodded, unable to speak. The tracker's ability to find extraordinary beauty in the simplest things always amazed him; tonight, it moved him.

Vin untied the green ribbon adorning the package and carefully opened the paper, not wanting to tear it. A soft laugh escaped him as he found green wrapping beneath it.

"I couldn't decide which I liked better," Chris explained with a wry grin.

Vin chuckled again and shook his head, then opened the green paper, finally revealing the box within. Opening the box, he gasped softly when he saw a hand-knitted neck scarf, soft and long and thick, and as blue as his eyes. He stared down at it for long moments, then pulled it out carefully and held it in one hand, lightly stroking it with the other and knowing with instinctive certainty where Chris had gotten it.

"Nettie made it," Larabee told him needlessly. "I couldn't stand seein' you in that old one of yours any longer. It was past its prime long ago, and I figured it was time you had a new one. So I asked her if she'd make it, and picked out the color. Wanted ta make sure you kept warm, and," he smirked, "I wanted you ta see I do know there are more colors in this world than black."

Vin raised the scarf to his face and nestled a cheek against it, smiling at its softness. Chris had picked it, and Nettie had made it. He'd wear the damn thing until it fell off him in tatters.

Chris watched him silence, his eyes and heart full. He hadn't expected such a reaction from Vin. It was just a scarf, something the man badly needed, a practical and ordinary, utilitarian item. Yet Tanner handled it as if it were the most precious gift he'd ever gotten.

"I, um," he cleared his throat and swallowed hard against the unexpected knot there, "I just wanted to make sure that you, y'know, that you stay warm," he said again, mesmerized by the loving movement of the tracker's long fingers over the soft wool.

Vin lifted his eyes to Chris's face, love and gratitude shimmering in their sapphire depths. "You picked the color yerself?" he asked softly, hoarsely.

Chris nodded and laced his fingers together in his lap. "I know how much you like bright colors." He smiled slightly. "I musta gone through Miz Potter's entire stock before I found what I wanted. But it had ta be just right. Because it was for you, and... and I..." He cleared his throat again and nodded once, startled by the sudden stinging of his eyes. "It just had ta be right," he repeated.

Vin smiled slightly, softly, his whole face alight with love. "It's from you," he rasped, his voice much huskier than usual. "You picked the color, Nettie made it. Couldn't be no righter than that." He unfolded the scarf and wrapped it around his neck, smiling more broadly still at the feel of its wondrous softness and warmth. "'S perfect!"

Chris smiled warmly, entranced by the happiness shining in the tracker's face. "Think it's you that's perfect, pard," he said softly. "Now," he held out the second gift, "open it."

Vin stared at the slender package for several moments, then reached out slowly and took it as carefully as if it were crystal. He still couldn't believe Chris had actually sent away for something. He knew folks did that, but he'd never imagined anyone would take the time or trouble to do it for him.

"Open it, Vin," Chris said again, his voice and eyes gentle. "It's not gonna bite ya."

Vin swallowed and nodded, licking his lips. He studied the knots in the strings, then began working them loose with long, nimble fingers. Across from him, Chris clenched his jaw impatiently, wondering why Tanner didn't just cut the damn things.

Goddamn Texan could drive a saint to murder!

At last, the strings fell to the bed, and Vin began unwrapping the stiff brown paper with that same care. As he pushed aside the last fold and saw what lay beneath, he went absolutely still, his eyes widening, a soft gasp escaping him.

A book. A truly beautiful book, with a hand-tooled leather cover and gold-edged pages. He stared at it for long, long moments in wonder and disbelief, unable even to think, much less speak. Chris had sent away for a book. For him.

Chris watched him in deepening anxiety, for once not able to read what he was thinking. Vin seemed absolutely stunned, and that worried Larabee. Had he judged wrong in this?

When he could, Vin tore his gaze from the book and lifted it slowly to the man across from him, his eyes deep and dark and still unreadable. "It... it's beautiful," he breathed, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "'Bout the most beautiful thing I ever seen. I ain't..." He swallowed. "I ain't ever had its like before."

Chris remained silent, knowing there was more to come, and content to wait for it. He thought he knew what Tanner would say, what he felt he needed to say, and he would give the man his chance.

Vin swallowed again, reached inside himself for his courage, then admitted the bitter truth he'd only shared with one other person. "But I cain't take it, Chris," he said in a soft, shaking voice, his eyes filling with pain. "I cain't... I cain't... read."

Larabee let out a slow, deep breath as the words he'd expected finally came. He saw the shame in Vin's eyes, heard it in his voice, and reached out, taking one of the tracker's strong hands in his own. "I know," he said quietly, his voice wondrously gentle. "I've known it all along. But I also know that Mary's helpin' you with that. That's why I got you this," he said, nodding toward the book. "I wanted you ta know how proud I am of you, first for admittin' it, then for gettin' help. I know it can't be easy; I'm not sure I could do it. But you did, and I admire the hell outta you for it."

Vin blinked, astonishment flooding him. "Ya... ya do?" he whispered unsteadily. "But..." He frowned deeply and cocked his head, not understanding this at all. "I figgered... you'd be disappointed... I mean, you're always readin'... Hell, even Nathan c'n read, 'n he was a slave... I's scared it'd make me somethin' less in yer eyes."

"Why?" Chris asked, arching a golden brow. "Because you haven't always had the same chances in life some of us have? Because you've had to be more concerned about just surviving than getting an education? That's the only difference between us, Vin. I'm not smarter than you, I'm just more educated. But you're takin' care of that now, and I got you this book because I wanted you to know that I know how much courage that takes, and how proud I am of you for doin' it." He nodded down at the book. "And one day, you'll be able to read that to me. I got all the faith in the world in you."

Tears filled Vin's eyes at that expression of faith in him, and at the love behind it. Chris believed in him, and that was a gift infinitely more precious than the beautiful book he held. Chris Larabee, who believed in so very little, believed in him.

"What... what is it?" he whispered, his voice shaking uncontrollably. A single tear slid down his cheek and he let it fall, knowing it was all right.

Chris smiled softly and reached out, gently wiping away that tear. "It's a book of poems by a man named William Shakespeare. You heard of him?"

Vin thought, then nodded. "Seems I seen a play of his once, 'bout some king in Scotland--"

"Macbeth," Chris said, nodding. "Yeah, he wrote a lot of plays. That's probably what he's most famous for. But he wrote beautiful poetry, too. And I thought..." He had to clear his throat again as it tightened suddenly. "I thought you might like to read another poet's work. Read somebody who shares your gift."

"Hell, Chris, I ain't got a gift--"

"Yeah, ya do," Larabee breathed. "God, Vin, when I read your poem in the paper... Maybe I shoulda told you then, but I just couldn't find the words. Still not sure I can. I just know it was the most beautiful damn thing I'd ever read." He smiled slightly. "I kept it, did you know that? And I take it out ever' now and then to read. I still can't get over it."

Vin stared at him in amazement. "You... you kept it? Why?"

"Because it was beautiful," Chris said again. "And because it was yours. Because it showed me a part of you I never knew was there. I mean, I've always known there was more ta you than you let on, but, hell, Tanner," he smiled warmly and shook his head, "I never woulda guessed you wrote poetry!"

"Don't write nothin'," Vin grumbled, not entirely sure Chris wasn't making fun of him. "Cain't write. Jist... sometimes... words come inta my head..." He shrugged and bowed his head, scowling slightly. "Ain't no big deal."

"Yeah, pard, it is." Chris reached out and slipped a hand under Tanner's chin, lifting his head until he could see the tracker's eyes. "I've been ta school, Vin. I can read and write. But I never get words in my head like that. Because they don't come from the head; they come from the soul. You've got somethin' in your soul most of us don't, and it's called poetry. And it's a big damn deal, because it makes you who you are. That's why I kept it, Vin. Because it's part of your soul, and I don't ever wanta lose even the smallest part of that."

Vin studied Larabee for long, long moments, searching the strong and beautiful face, the eyes that led him to the soul he knew better than his own, and saw no teasing, but only truth. And love. The realization shocked him to his core, and filled him with a warmth he would never have imagined he'd know in this life.

"Mary said... I should write 'em down," he said softly, hesitantly, then winced. "Once I learn ta write good, that is. Still cain't do much more'n my own name. And," a soft flush crept into his cheeks, "yers."

Chris sat up straight, his eyes widening. "You can write my name?"

Vin's blush deepened at the surprise in his lover's voice. "Yeah," he breathed more softly still. "Told Mary I... I wanted ta learn y'all's names, too, startin' with yers..." He swallowed hard and lifted his chin, gazing almost defiantly at Larabee. "Jist seems a man oughtta be able ta read 'n write the names of them that means somethin' to him!"

A slow smile curved about Chris's mouth, and his green eyes softened. "I'm honored, Vin. Means a lot, knowin' we're... I'm that important to ya."

"Aw, hell, Chris, yer part'a me," he said with ease. He shrugged. "There ain't no me without you. Thought you knew that."

Chris chuckled softly, more deeply touched than he would ever admit by the simple but heartfelt words. "Guess I can be a bit slow on the draw, too," he said wryly.

Vin smirked, his blue eyes filling with mischief. "Hell, cowboy, sometimes yer jist downright thick," he drawled. "Shit, you could give lessons in hard-headedness ta Peso!"

"Now, that hurts!" Larabee protested, glaring playfully. "That damn cougar-in-horsehide's got a rock where his brain should be, and you know it!"

Two brown brows lifted, and the tracker's smirk deepened. "Reckon I've heard the same about you a time 'r two. Hell," he snorted, "reckon I've said it a time 'r two!"

Green eyes narrowed to slits, though they still gleamed warmly. "Mouthy bastard, aren't ya, Tanner? There some reason you're so all-fired sure I won't shoot ya for it?"

Vin slowly licked his lips and winked. "Mebbe 'cause I know you'd hate ta have ta explain how come I died in yer bed."

"Could take ya out back and do it."

"Promised Nettie ya'd keep me warm, remember? Y'ain't goin' back on yer word ta Nettie, are ya?"

"Smug son of a bitch," Larabee growled.

Vin grinned and nodded. "Yep, reckon I am." He winked again. "Comes from knowin' ya so well."

Chris arched a brow and stared at him. "Oh, you think ya know me, do ya?"

Vin smiled softly, set down the book and rocked forward onto his hands and knees. Still smiling, he moved closer to Chris, brushed his lips lightly against the gunman's, and breathed, "Oh, yeah, cowboy. Know ya inside 'n out."

Chris shivered and closed his eyes as that mouth teased him. "Goddamn your sorry ass ta hell!" he whispered.

Vin laughed, then kissed Larabee again. "'N here all this time I thought ya liked my ass."

Chris groaned and reached for him, grabbing him and pulling him closer. "You know I am gonna kill you one day," he murmured, twining his arms about that lithe, lean body and capturing Tanner's mouth with his. "Just not tonight."

"Mmm," Vin breathed, savoring the taste of the man. "I'm real scared."

"You talk too damn much!" Chris snarled, twisting a hand into Tanner's long hair and burying his mouth in the tracker's.

Vin moaned and clutched at Larabee as that kiss swept through him with all the heat and force of a firestorm, scouring against his soul and burning away all that had ever bound it, freeing it to soar and dance with its mate. Chris was a part of him, as he'd said, and he now felt the man in every part of his flesh, blood and bone. Chris was in his every breath, was his every breath, was his whole reason for breathing. He'd lived for years without Chris, but only since joining his life to Larabee's had he understood what it meant to be truly alive.

Chris had had this once before, but had lost it, and had thought, had known, he'd never have it again. Had sworn all he'd ever known and would have of love had died in the same fire that had killed his wife and son. He'd buried his heart with them, and had never expected to have it resurrected and returned to him.

Until Vin Tanner had breathed life back into it and given it back to him, whole. Healed.

"God, Vin," he breathed when the kiss ended, as the tracker dropped his head onto Chris' shoulder, "I could use some of your poetry now, so I could tell you what you've done for me. What you've given me. 'Cause I gotta tell ya, pard, I just don't have any words for this."

"Don't need 'em," Vin said softly. "I can feel 'em here." He lightly tapped Chris's chest, over his heart. "And here." He then tapped his own chest. "Words would only make it less."

"I certainly don't wanta do that," Chris murmured, treasuring the feel of Vin's warmth and weight against him. "Don't ever wanta make this less. Not when it means so much." He rested a cheek against Tanner's hair. "Glad ya like your presents."

Vin raised his head and smiled, his eyes alight. "Oh, I do, Chris. More'n you'll ever know. Now," he dropped a quick kiss onto Larabee's mouth, then slid off his lap and reached for the long, brightly-wrapped package he'd retrieved from his coat earlier, "it's time ta open yers." He held it out to Chris. "Merry Christmas, cowboy."

Chris took the package, feeling a hard box of some type beneath the layers of paper. "What is it?"

Vin arched a brow. "B'lieve it's called a present," he quipped.

Larabee scowled. "Awful damn funny, ain'tcha?" He turned it over and over in his hands. "Nice job of wrappin'. You do it yourself?"

"Hell, yeah, I did it!" Vin snapped. "Now, open it 'fore we both die of old age!"

Chris snorted and shook his head. "And you say I got no patience. All right, all right!" he said quickly, seeing another outburst coming. "Jesus, keep him up past his bedtime, and he gets crankier than a stepped-on rattler." He began working at the red and green ribbons, enjoying the spectacle of Vin fidgeting nervously before him. "You all right there, pard?"

"Jist shut up 'n open it!"

"Yeah, that's the Christmas spirit," Chris teased, finally untying the ribbons and starting on the paper. "You always this much fun at holidays?"

Vin's scowl turned to a smirk. "Seem ta recall I was lotsa fun a while ago." He licked his lips. "Might be fun again, if you ever get done with that."

Chris abruptly ripped away the paper. "Since you put it that way..." His words trailed off as he beheld the box beneath the paper. Hand-crafted and beautifully fashioned, it had been sanded to a smooth, glowing finish and fitted with two small hinges at the back and a latch at the front. An eagle in flight with great wings spread wide had been burned into the top. He traced the image lovingly with a trembling finger, then slowly raised his eyes to Vin. "You do this?" he whispered.

Tanner nodded and swallowed hard at the awe in Chris's eyes. "Took me a while, but I wanted it ta be special." He nodded again. "Open it, 'n you'll see why."

Chris frowned, then opened the latch and lifted the lid. His eyes widened and a sharp gasp escaped him, then he reached inside and drew out what rested within, holding it reverently. "Jesus, Vin!" he whispered, sensing the magic of the gift.

This had not come, he knew, from any store, but from Tanner's own hands and heart. One part was an eagle-bone whistle, which he seemed to recall had sacred import to the various tribes among which Vin had lived. From the whistle dangled a beaded and braided length of twined horsehair, buckskin and a single black ribbon, with lighter strands of what looked to be hair glinting here and there. And bound into the braided cord were two feathers, one from a hawk, and one from an eagle.

"There's a story behind it," Vin said softly, watching through wide, dark eyes as Chris stared in awe at the gift. "The whistle's used ta call the Spirits, ta get their attention when ya wanta talk to 'em. Or," he smiled slightly, "you can use it ta call one Spirit in particular." Chris lifted soft green eyes to him, and he went on. "Saw a man once, long time ago down in San Antone. He had this hawk that he'd trained ta hunt fer him. He'd let the hawk go, then blow on this whistle when he wanted him back. 'N the hawk came to him ever' time. Seems no matter how far away he flew, that bird'd hear that whistle 'n always come back home." He swallowed and nodded. "That's what that whistle's fer," he breathed. "No matter how far from you I wander, you jist blow on that 'n I'll fly right back to ya ever' time."

"And these?" Chris asked hoarsely, lightly fingering the feathers. "They're you and me, aren't they?"

Again, Vin nodded. "'Member that dream I told ya 'bout? The one where I's the hawk 'n you's the eagle 'n we was flyin' together? Well, I had it again, when I's tryin' ta figger out what ta get ya fer Christmas. I's up at Eagle Butte, been there a couple'a days, tryin' ta clear my head and think. 'N I had the dream. Next day, I's lookin' around, 'n I found that hawk feather. Wasn't no bird around, jist the feather. Knew it was a gift, so I picked it up. A little ways on, I come across this eagle. He was hurt, one wing was crippled. Looked like somebody'd shot him." His eyes darkened, and sorrow softened his voice. "He was beautiful, Chris, but he wasn't never gonna fly again. I knew it, 'n he knew it. He'd starve ta death, or get caught by some other animal... I apologized fer the hurt done to him, then told him I'd set him free. Then I killed him. I didn't have no choice, Chris--"

"I know," Larabee soothed, reaching out to lay a strong had on Tanner's knee. "Like you said, he would have died anyway. You ended his suffering, and his shame, and released his spirit. Who knows? Maybe that's why you were there. Maybe that's what you were supposed ta do."

Vin nodded once. "That's what I thought. Then I remembered my dream, and that feller in San Antone... I made the proper offerin' ta the Eagle Spirit, 'n took that feather and the bone fer that whistle. Heard another eagle cry from up above me, 'n knew I'd done right. Spent the next day carvin' that whistle, then came back home 'n gathered all the other things I needed."

Chris straightened the braided length across his palm and studied it carefully. "This is us, too, isn't it?"

Vin smiled brightly at his understanding. "Yeah. Pieces of us joined together inta one. Got some hairs from Pony and Peso's tails -- don't worry, I asked 'em first," he added quickly as Chris frowned. "Told 'em what I needed 'n why, 'n they was real understandin'. Well," he amended after a beat, "Pony was. Took it real good. Peso..." He snorted and shook his head. "Damn mule ain't got no manners at all. I said please,' 'n he still damn near stomped my toes flat. Ain't like I hurt him, neither. He's jist bein' ornery!"

"Imagine that," Chris said wryly.

"Still, I got it, though. Gave Pony a bit of molasses candy 'n made Peso watch while he ate it. Taught him a lesson."

"Not likely," Chris scoffed, knowing Tanner's troublesome black all too well. "And don't be gettin' my horse started on those damn sweets like you've got yours. He's got a big enough taste for 'em as it is."

"Jist wanted ta show I's grateful fer his help," Vin grumbled. "A little treat now 'n again never hurts."

"All right, you got the horsehair," Chris said, stopping the argument before it started. "What else?"

Vin leaned forward and pointed to the black ribbon. "That's a piece from one'a yer shirts." He smiled at Larabee's look of surprise. "Found an old one at yer shack. Didn't think you'd miss it, so I took it 'n cut a strip from it. Then I cut one'a the fringes from my coat. I also collected pieces of yer hair 'n mine, found some beads in my wagon, 'n put 'em all together. Thought about you and me as I worked, remembered times together, things we said and done. Tied all them memories in there, too. So now, when ya blow that whistle, yer spirit'll carry the sound ta mine, and bring me flyin' back."

Chris didn't know what to say. Everything that Vin believed was woven into the gift, making it a talisman of their love and giving it a power he could feel. Larabee had no words to express what the gift meant to him, or touched in him.

But Vin saw in those deep green eyes what the man couldn't say, and felt a strong surge of relief. "I wasn't sure I should give ya such a thing on Christmas," he admitted softly. "I mean, this is all about Jesus, but some of the things I believe..." He winced and shook his head. "Reckon mebbe I am a heathen like some folks say, holdin' more Indian beliefs than Christian ones, but I remember the things my mama 'n grandpa taught me, and I don't see nothin' in what I believe that goes against them." He shrugged. "Reckon I've just added some things to 'em. If that makes me a heathen--"

"It doesn't," Chris said softly, fixing eyes shimmering with love on the tracker. "Hell, Vin, you're a better man than most so-called Christian folk' I've ever met, and I don't see a thing in the world wrong with you givin' me this on Christmas. In fact, I can't think of a better time. Never thought I'd need anything ta show me what we got together, ta show me what we are to each other, but I can't imagine getting a more beautiful gift. I just wish I had the words ta tell ya what it means to me--"

"Ssh." Vin leaned forward and laid a hand over Larabee's mouth to silence him, his gaze fixed on Chris's. "Don't need words 'tween us, cowboy. We never have. I know what you're feelin', 'cause I'm feelin' it, too. I feel everything you feel. 'S why I bound all them things up together. We're bound up just like that, you 'n me, 'n won't never be separate again. Long after we're dead and our bodies are gone ta dust, our spirits'll still be flyin' together. Jist like in my dream."

Chris pressed a tender kiss to Vin's fingers, then moved them away from his mouth. "I like the sound of that," he said softly. "Like the thought of you always bein' with me. Thank you."

"Yer welcome," Vin rasped. "Jist wanted you ta know how I feel about ya. Wanted ta make sure you understand."

"Oh, I do," Chris breathed. He placed the gift reverently back in its box, still awed by its beauty, and by its meaning. Then, closing the box carefully, he turned back to Vin and reached for him. "C'mere," he invited softly, pulling the younger man to him. "Got somethin' I want ta make you understand, too."

Vin went without hesitation, every instinct he possessed leading him straight to this man. As the strong arms closed about him, as that warm mouth claimed him, he knew he'd finally found the place he belonged.

Chris showered tender kisses and caresses over Vin's face and body, expressing with his mouth and hands what he never could with mere words, wanting the tracker to know and to feel what was in his heart. He'd been blessed to find love once with Sarah; to have found it again, with Vin, was nothing short of a miracle.

"Wanta thank ya," Vin whispered hoarsely as Chris's mouth made love to his throat, "fer savin' that place fer me at church. Didn't think you's expectin' me ta show."

"Wasn't," Chris admitted. He raised his head and gazed deeply into blue eyes gone dark with desire. "I was hopin', though. Even prayin'. You belong at my side, Vin, in my life. And I'll always have a place saved there for ya. All you have ta do is take it."

Vin ran gentle fingers through Chris's hair, lightly stroking the silken strands and marveling anew at the beauty this man had brought into his life. "In the livery, when he was tryin' ta talk me inta stayin'," he said softly, "Josiah asked what Christmas meant ta me." He shrugged lightly. "Didn't have an answer fer him then, 'cause I didn't know."

"But now?" Chris prompted.

Vin smiled slowly, his whole face alight. "Reckon it means this right here," he rasped, leaning into the strong arms that held him fast. "Means knowin' yer with me even when I can't see ya, means knowin' yer waitin' on me when I ain't there, means knowin' all I have ta do is listen and I'll hear ya callin' me home. And I do hear it, Chris. Heard it tonight, loud 'n clear as could be. That's why I come back."

"I'm so glad ya did," Chris whispered, pulling the younger man to him. "You just might make me start believin' in Christmas again."

THE END