Chapter 1

"Vin, just come! Get GoStar to locate J.D., and come wherever they say. MOVE! Call Buck! I need you to follow me. Get the cops and the paramedics coming after us. Shoot, I think I'm headed right... OH HELL, VIN... JUST HUMOR ME." Rapid instructions to a partner known for rapid response. The driver could only assume he was heading in the right direction. The connection broke with no sign-off. Vin had gone to work.

He pushed end. Then he punched in another speed-dial code on his cell phone, swerving into the right lane and chasing cars in every direction as he did so. The speedometer of his antique black Jaguar passed 80. As soon as he cleared town, he would hit 120 or more, whatever this thing would still do. He dabbed with the back of his phone hand at the small but stubborn trickle of blood that oozed down his forehead and into his eye. "Come on, J.D..Pick up."

Contact. "EXACTLY WHERE ARE YOU." This was precisely why he had bought a state-of-the-art cell phone for each of them, just so he could find his partners in moments of pure terror. The rule was NEVER, EVER turn the damn things off. Their bunch could run, but they couldn't hide.

"Well hello to you, too! I'm on I-10, about 15-20 minutes south of the city. Why? Where do you think I am? I only left an hour or so ago. It was after four. I told you we were going out of town for her birthday..."

He felt instant relief mixed with the terror. Even off duty, the boy hadn't turned it off, and the Jag was heading in the same direction, the right direction. "SHUT UP AND LISTEN. YOU IN YOUR BIG TAN SEDAN?"

"What else would I be driving? She's pregnant. Doesn't like the Hummer. You better not have any spoiler planned."

"IS THERE AN OPEN FIELD OR EMPTY LOT ANYWHERE AROUND YOU?"

The old man had certainly gotten his attention. "Well, an old amusement park at Exit 26... some old animal attraction..."

"SHUT UP. GET OFF THE HIGHWAY... GO THERE."

"Why would I..."

"SHUT UP AND DO IT. DO IT RIGHT NOW. KEEP HER CALM."

"KEEP HER CALM? WHAT IS THIS?"

"Who is that, J.D.?" Such a strange conversation. He was getting so upset, really nervous. It wasn't good when they were both nervous.

"SHUT UP AND DO IT!

"OKAY, OKAY... JUST... A... MINUTE... TWO MORE EXITS TO GO..."

"LISTEN TO ME!..."

"Which one of those idiots are you talking to? I bet it's Chris. Wait... Why are we turning off at this exit?"

"Hush, Casey, I can't hear. What's wrong... !"

"IT'S A BOMB!"

"A WHAT?"

"Wrong!? Who is that? Just hang up... You're off duty."

"BE QUIET!"

"BOMB IN YOUR CAR! GET TO THE PARKING LOT... STOP, BUT DO NOT OPEN THE DOORS."

"WHAT?"

"Tell me who that is..." His mounting nervousness was making her twice as nervous by the minute.

"SHUT UP, CASEY!"

"DON'T OPEN THE DOORS... I'LL TELL YOU WHAT TO DO WHEN I GET THERE." All there was to do was listen, yell into the phone, and drive like a madman... and hope he didn't hear an explosion or see flames. The speedometer was topped out... maybe he'd have time...

J.D. Dunne, the youngest partner of the MAG7 Agency, drew a deep breath and glanced at his young, very pregnant wife, trying to make himself sound calm again. "Chris says there's a bomb in the car." He left it there, concentrating on the call, "OKAY, EXIT... COMING UP ABOUT A MILE AHEAD." Dead silence for about a minute. "WE'RE HERE... PULLING IN. I'M STOPPING NOW. DO I TURN THIS THING OFF?"

"WHY ARE WE STOPPING HERE? DID YOU SAY BOMB?"

He turned to her, forcing himself not to panic, "Chris is just behind us. Be calm, it's gonna be all right, but get ready to run."

The phone's receiver squawked loudly in his hand. Without raising the thing to his ear, he clearly heard, "NO! NO! DON'T TOUCH THE DOORS! IF SHE OPENS A DOOR... 30 SECONDS... GOES OFF... STILL... AT THE EXIT NOW." He threw the phone across the car, fighting for control as the Jag careened up the thankfully vacant ramp.

She had heard it to, all the way across the leather seat. "If there's a bomb in here, I'm not waiting around because Chris Larabee wants to give orders..." She was a feisty young woman... a great match for J. D.

"CASEY, HE SAYS NOT TO TOUCH THE DOORS."

It was too late. She was already in mid-flight, and her brain failed to register the command. The door flew open at her push.

"RUN! DON'T STOP... RUN!"

"J.D.! NO!" The Jag pulled up well away from the gleaming Cadillac, skidding to a bone-jarring stop as the two young people ran toward him. He had jumped from the XKE calling the young man's name even as his own tires smoked and the Jag's door slammed outward.

J.D. rounded the bumper, grabbed and pushed her from behind to encourage her flight from the car. At seven months, she couldn't move fast under any circumstances. "GO!". He dove after her, shoving her forward in desperation. He followed behind her, even as his boss jumped from his own car and headed toward them. He shoved her one last time, hard, into the approaching man's arms. Chris shoved her again, pushing her beyond and behind himself, over a small rise, into a deep depression created by huge, missing chunks of asphalt. He turned for his partner.

The roar was deafening as pieces of the car surrounded them. The fireball reached skyward as metal, leather, and plastics hurled outward, joined by spewing fire as a second explosion issued from the rupturing gas tank. She screamed as she flew a short distance before landing in the broken asphalt and dirt depression. As she lost consciousness, she saw her husband, first airborne, then still as he and his boss each slammed into the hard, broken surface.

---

Chapter 2

The leader of the MAG7 Agency opened his eyes reluctantly. Fuzzy figures surrounded him, floating in and out of sight and understanding. The tiny bits of information the voices provided refused to remain in his mind for long. Tired of even this small effort, he gave up and decided, not for the first time, that it would be best to just do what someone asked him to do. His eyes closed and he went back to sleep.

When finally woke for good, after several more tries, while his eyes were still shut, he inventoried the damage... only two tubes. The one in his left wrist was taped snuggly to a worrisome board. The other invaded his nose providing cool air to unhappy lungs. Monitors whirled and beeped. No casts... that was good. The only other things he could identify were a sizeable lump covered with a bandage on his forehead; a mountain of wet, gooey gauze wrapped around his raw, scorched, upper right arm; and enough elastic bandages to cover his right leg from ankle to middle thigh. When he moved to check everything out, he realized he was definitely either drunk or dizzy, but he didn't remember which. He had one hell of a headache, and he was sore, remarkably sore, extremely sore everywhere. All in all, not too bad, considering. Considering what? He hadn't remembered that either, until now. Considering that he'd met a bomb up close and personal.

From his inventory, he quickly estimated maybe another night or two's stay here in the hospital. The beeps and whistles of the monitors confirmed that he was in one again. He also remembered that there were two people in this place who wouldn't let him out too soon, probably not until he could tell them who, what, when, where, why and how. Well, they'd have to let him out of here before he could answer who or why, but he'd have his work cut out trying to convince them to turn him loose.

Another set of irritating, alternating beeps and whistles made him remember that he shouldn't be the only one here. He had to think hard before he remembered that the other one caught up in this was J.D. He looked across the room. Surely enough, there he lay. There were a good many tubes leading in and out of his partner's small compact body. During all the time Chris had alternated in wake and sleep, he had never once seen the man open his eyes. What would he tell Casey?

Where was Casey? Somehow Casey was part of this, too. He suddenly remembered her landing in rough asphalt, remembered fire and flying debris. "Oh, God. If she's gone, or lost the baby..."

"Catherine!" The younger man across the room came awake with a scream. Instantly alert, Chris swung from his own bed, detaching the monitors; losing the tubes; ignoring the leg, the arm, and the head; coming to stand beside his friend.

The blast should have killed him, but he was a tough little knot. If he had been a few yards closer to the exploding car, he would be dead. The kid just never gave up. Vin called him their pitbull, but Chris thought of him more as a rat terrier, tenacious and willful, but smaller and with less tendency toward meanness. From where he lay, he looked like a man who'd been half dunked in creamy oatmeal, then left in the sun to dry. Broken leg, broken arm, broken ribs, torn cheek on one side, lacerated and flash burned back and chest from the shrapnel and fire of the car, plus all of the usual assorted cuts and bruises that went with the territory of working for MAG7.

"Shoot, and people say I'm lucky." The leader said it to himself.

"Catherine!" Young husband before patient, he called her name before he cried out at the newly discovered pain. Her name before marriage had been Catherine Corrine Connell. The boys at MAG7 had shortened it, mostly to annoy J.D. But the two newlyweds had actually liked it. Who would have guessed.

"She's fine, J.D. Easy." He reached to the side of the bed railing and pushed firmly on the call button.

"Catherine!" Husband before partner, he screamed her name again, trying to sit up. In his condition, the attempt was worthless. He lay back exhausted. Where's..."

"Easy. I think she's close by. Don't really know."

"She okay? Baby?" He obviously heard words, but unless he got reassurance past his ears and into his mind, and soon, he'd just hurt himself more.

All he could do was lie and hope it was true. "She seems to be fine, J.D. I think Nathan said they were fine. She got a little banged up, but nothing serious. It's you we've been worried about."

The RN walked in purposefully, slightly alarmed to see him up already on the leg that had taken so many of the stray metal fragments and a really terrible fall. His green eyes were too shiny, the pupils strangely dilated... the concussion hadn't faded yet. "What are you doing up..."

"He's awake."

"Then move over." A large syringe came out of her pocket, already loaded and in her hand. The cap came off between her teeth. She quickly double checked it. "I'm giving him more sedative and pain killer." She pushed the contents of the syringe into the IV solution into the veins of the younger man. He was quickly asleep again.

"You get yourself back in bed... it's too soon for you to be up. I'm just going to have to restart that IV... you do know that don't you."

"Nope... not going to happen. How long's he gonna be out?"

"Didn't give him much; enough for about four hours. But I'm not promising you he won't get more. You don't need to push him... he almost died out there."

"Anything else beside what shows?"

"We thought he might have a brain injury more serious than the concussion he does have, but the CAT didn't pick up anything."

"I always told you he has a hard head." He grinned a little, please with the joke. "Seriously, we've got to find out if he knows anything about what happened."

"No. You don't have to find out this minute, or in four hours, or maybe in several days. I want you to rest, too. Get back in bed."

He was instantly ready to fight. "Shoot... I'm not tired."

"You've got your own concussion, that leg took a beating, and you're cut and bruised all over. You can't tell me you're not in pain. Get back in bed."

"My head hurts like hell, my arm hurts some, but I'm not sleepy."

"I don't care, just DO IT. You know that concussion is dangerous."

"Didn't even break the skin!"

"Oh, yeah? Seems like I remember it taking about twenty-five stitches to close that unbroken skin."

"Hey, Nathan. I just thought it was a big goose egg."

She walked around him, pushing him gently but determinedly toward his hospital bed. He dug in his heels, at least the one on the left, staring straight into her hazel eyes, ready again to do battle.

As she circled behind him, her hand suddenly produced another syringe, the cap flew off, and his backside was her most vulnerable target. "I would have put it in an IV tube, but you had to pull it out. Which means I just have to put it back in again. Now, you better get back in bed... and I'd suggest you do it quickly before you wind up sleeping on the floor."

"That's not fair!" Shoot, she never did fight fair. He pushed himself onto the bed. His well-recognized temper was beginning to boil over. "I not letting you root around in my wrist to start another IV either!"

"Since when do you expect anything about life to be fair?" So, he was going to be double teamed again by Terry, the RN, and her doctor/co-conspirator, Nathan Jackson. "Don't make me get heavy handed with you." The doc was big enough and strong enough to enforce his rules, and he wasn't scared of a Larabee temper tantrum at all. He had handled those many times before.

"If he wakes up before I do, find some way to bring me to."

She was at him again. "Go to sleep. If I got the doses right, you'll both wake up together... uh... at the same time."

"I've told Terry not to let J.D. wake up for a good long while. You just forget about it for now. You get yourself some rest. I mean it. I don't want him disturbed at all. You gonna do what I say?"

"No." He meant it... but as he meant it, he yawned.

The doctor smiled; laughed a soft, deep chuckle; and shook his head.. "Just like I expected. Muleheaded. Pure muleheaded. But you see, you will do what I say for at least a little while... I told her to double the sedative this time."

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!"

"Nope. But it sure is better than listening to you bellyache!" He was more serious as he left, "Glad you're back... now at least try to get some rest."

---

Chapter 3

After sixteen more hours, the younger man was finally allowed to wake and discover the full extent of his casts and bandages. After several sips of water and a not too vigorous turn of his head, he tried to sort it all out, "What happened?"

The older partner, awake for more than four hours this time, had long since given up in boredom and impatience, and moved from the bed to an odd little reclining chair. If he had had two strong legs, he would have paced, or if his head didn't hurt so much, he would have pestered the other one until he roused. He was more than ready to help the younger man think things through. "Bomb went off."

"I know the dang bomb went off..."

"Not much left of the car, I'm afraid. Sorry about your hat."

"Casey okay? Baby okay? You okay? Who's got my hat?"

"Who knows, probably somewhere in the ashes? I saved your skin, and it isn't the first time."

"You are telling me the truth aren't you." He was suddenly very serious. "She is okay isn't she, and the baby?"

"Everyone's fine... especially since you finally decided to wake up. Must have been a pretty bad concussion.

"It is a bad concussion, with a hair line skull fracture, and he needs to rest. You go back to your own bed and do the same."

"Where'd you come from? Watch her, J.D... she makes sneak attacks. I'm not going back yet." He knew she was a bossy thing when she was at this hospital. Hell, she was a bossy thing anywhere, but other places, at other times, the beautiful blonde who, for now was bent on making his life hell, was his wife, and he was allowed to fight back.

"Do I have to stick you again?"

"I'll go back in a minute." Well, he didn't have to go meekly, did he?

"No! Now!" She shepherded him back to his bed, but she had no illusions that he or his partner would actually sleep this time, not unless there were drugs involved.

"I'm just fine! I'm not hurt that bad. J.D.'s the one that's hurt. You know all that crap... those dang shots... won't do more than keep me down for a few miserable minutes." He was fully awake, even with the doubled dose, while the young man next to him was groggily stirring at best.

"Oh, you look like you're just fine!"

J.D., though confined to bed, was sufficiently agitated by now to keep sleep at bay for a good while. She didn't want to give either of them more medicine than necessary, especially with the concussions.

"I want to see her, Terry."

"She's asleep, without drugs, and she needs to be. We want to monitor her and the baby for a few more days, just to be sure. When she wakes up, and if she feels like moving around, I'll bring her to see you."

"Can't I go see her? Now? Please?"

"J.D., just how would you propose to do that? I'm not going to help you... and neither is he."

The boy studied his own situation again. "Oh."

"Yes... Oh. She'll be here soon enough. You've got to get some rest, too."

"Better do what she says."

"You're one to talk! Who'd want to put a bomb in my car to begin with?" End of reasoning... they were off and running.

"Same one who put one in mine."

"Who would want to kill me? Me and Casey? I haven't been working on anything that ugly lately. Any ideas?"

"Don't know yet... shoot, I've been in the bed next to you since Friday afternoon. I've been in and out, but they still won't tell me anything."

"We don't know anything. Neither of you has been awake enough to even tell us what happened. We wouldn't let any of the rest of them up here so far. We needed you both quiet. Vin and the paramedics brought you in. Glad he got there when he did."

"For once he did what I told him to do."

"How'd you find out about the bomb? What kind? How'd you know it was in my car?"

"Remind me to have our logo taken off those parking slots. After mine blew up, I thought you might be next. Parking place is next to mine, same make, model, color. Thought whoever-the-hell it was might have wanted to hedge their bet. "

"Remind me to buy blue or neon purple next time... shoot, I'll take pea green if it doesn't match yours! So, yours blew up first?"

"Nobody told me your sedan blew up. I thought they said you were driving the Jag, but it's on the parking lot outside... a few pits and dings. When did your car blow up?"

"Just before I took the Jag. Like I said, I haven't been awake enough to remember details." He reached up and touched the bandage at his hairline, "Seems I remember part of the windshield passing by a little too close."

"Good gracious. I thought you just got hurt with J.D. You got blown up twice in one day? GET IN BED, NOW."

"Look, no fooling... I'm not sleepy at all... and I've got to think for the next few days. Damn shots just make me restless and dull my senses. Too much of that stuff and I'll be sick as a dog. No more needles or sneak attacks, okay."

"We will see..."

His partner was amazed. "Two cars gone and one damaged, all in one day... man, the insurance company's gonna love us!"

"Let Ezra worry about it. He's the money man."

"Where was the car when your bomb went off."

"In the parking garage across the street. Blast took out five or six cars. Luckily for us, they were all on other spaces beside ours. That thing had a real special signature. Enough plastique to tear that car into widgets, and the rig was something like I've never seen before. Way yours went up, I expect it was pretty much the same design."

"I just can't believe it... yours, too!" She never ceased to be amazed at the trouble he could get into, and survive.

"Yeah. But at least I wasn't on the road when I found out it was gonna go."

"How'd you know mine was going up?"

"When I opened the door to the sedan, I saw someone running away. Being cautious like I am," The younger partner rolled his eyes. "I closed the door and sort of did a walk around. Saw a funny little wire connected to the front door on the driver's side. The one rigged to my car started counting down real fast and real loud when I opened the door the second time to trace that wire. Had a feeling yours might, too."

"How'd you get away from it?"

"Ran like hell... what do you think I did. You know old man Burlson? He kindly parked that old mammoth of his in Vin's space again. I counted later... nine spaces from my car to that one. That was as far as I got before it got quiet, just before that thing went off. I just tried to duck behind that old car. Car wasn't as big as I thought it was, wound up leaving my head in the open... that's how the windshield found me. It sure did hold a lot of fluids.

"Why did you think the bastard would want us both?"

"Just a feeling."

"Oh. One of those. How'd you find me?"

"Got Vin to get GoStar to pinpoint your location."

"Didn't use your psychic powers, huh?" It hurt to laugh, but it was a standing joke... one they all used to totally irritate their leader.

"Hell, J.D... there wasn't any psychic anything. Unless you left that phone of yours somewhere, it was in your pocket. Unless for some stupid reason you were lying to me, the two of you were heading toward Tucson. That tracker service of ours confirmed it. That's where you said you two were going. What is it about that town and you and Casey?"

"Don't know... just like it a lot, especially around Old Tucson. We like it almost as much as you like that area up around the four state boundary line. Don't give me a hard time about it. You're always going to some of those old cowtowns up there yourself, and you never tell me why."

The boss didn't tell him, or any of the partners, why. Every time he tried to tell someone why he did some of the unusual things he did, all he got were looks that said he was nuts.

"Enough, Chris. Neither one of you need to keep this up. He's got too much damage to overcome. You're not helping him heal any at all. And you got blown up TWICE. J.D., you have to rest." She handed her husband a glass of water, and spooned some down the other man's throat. "Now, J.D., I'm putting a stop to this conversation. IV or arm""

"Dang... the IV."

"Okay, then... good night."

They were quiet just long enough to let the youngster get good and groggy.

"Don't fight me on this, please. No wonder you've got a headache. Do you know how lucky you are!"

"My head doesn't feel like I'm so lucky, but I'll make you a bargain."

"What type of bargain?"

"That one sleeps; I don't fight staying put; you won't give me any more shots. I'll stay in bed, as long as you keep me supplied with notepads and pens."

"Work? Now? I guess your muleheaded enough to do it anyway. You'll let me know if your headache gets worse. And, you will turn in at nine, without a fight. Promise?"

"I HAVEN'T GONE TO BED AT NINE SINCE I WAS THREE."

"That and the concussion explain the temper. And I'll guarantee the curfew if I have to. All right. You're obviously feeling a great deal friskier than you should be, but I'll settle for rest." She turned toward the door.

"Hey, you going so soon?"

She looked back at him, still slightly annoyed, but there was softness in her eyes and a small smile on her lips. "I don't have to go for a little while. I've got Nathan's theatre in about 20 minutes. Why?" She reached for his glass, putting in a small bit of ice and a larger amount of water.

He gratefully took the offered drink. "It would be nice to get to look at you for a few minutes without you yelling at me."

"You know I only yell when you won't listen to reason. I don't mean to be the one who's all business... I try to leave that to you." She leaned close and kissed him, pushing a still-plastered lock away from the bandage on his forehead. She was pleased to see his expression change. The coolness and tenderness of her touch as she gently played with his scattered hair lightened his mood considerably. "Are you too sore for me to rub your neck and shoulders?"

It was a miracle how something so simple could ease him so much. "You know... if you'd stay here and just do that all day, I'd probably go to sleep without any drugs, and I wouldn't have to fight you at all."

She brought a chair close to his bed and sat holding his hand as long as she could. "Don't be such a pain. You want something to eat? Or drink?"

"Let's not think about food just yet. Little early. Maybe some juice or just the water will do."

"I'll get them to send the juice when I go. Drink all the water you want... I'll pull that tray close enough for you to reach it yourself. Drink the juice, though. You need something in your stomach, but I can understand about the food. Can I trust you to keep your word about staying in bed?"

"Just don't hold me to it for too long. How's Adam?"

"He'll be here after school."

"After school? What time is it? Shoot, what day is it?"

"It's Wednesday afternoon, around one-thirty." She stood to leave.

"Shoot!" He gave her a cocky smile, waggling his eyebrows..."My, how time flies when you're blown to bits. Do I get another kiss before you go?"

"Not until tonight, when you decide to turn in..."

"Well then, I just may have to turn in early after all."

She turned again to glance at her other patient, "I've given him a pretty strong sedative. Even if he comes to again, you remember that all of this can wait. I promise you it can. Don't keep him up going over details. You hear me."

"Yes, ma'am... I hear you. Say, is Casey really awake?"

"Comes and goes, but she was awake a little while ago."

"Is there a phone in there?"

"Yes."

"Can he call her?"

"When he wakes up, I'll dial the number myself."

"He'll take you up on it... it's the best offer he's gonna get, and I ought to know."

---

Chapter 4

He kept his word. But even as he stayed on the narrow bed, propped on all the extra pillows he could cajole from the candy strippers he could sweet talk, he pushed himself relentlessly, making notes and lists until he thought his brain would burst. "Who, what, when, where, why, and how."

He gave up when he had finished consolidating his scribblings into one final list. He noticed the writing was shaky at the beginning, but getting shakier by the end. He stopped because everything was getting too blurry to see. He studied the clock she had left on the small bedside table, and finally decided it was sometime after four.

The list he had labored over for more than three hours contained, at the end, only two partial pages of ragged, scratchy, oversized writing:

Who -- Don't know. Any mistakes? Don't think so. Person? One person? Hired person? Target: J. D.? Casey? Me? Agency? What -- A damn big bomb, Two damn big bombs. What has Buck found out? Any chance of more? Hide Casey? Hide J.D. / J.D. and Casey? Hide Terry and Adam? Hide everybody? Where? When -- Friday... three days ago? Where -- Garage, vacant parking lot. Where are they? Who knows? Hide everybody? Where? Why - DAMN GOOD QUESTION! Vendetta? New? Old? Crazy? Do I even have a clue? How - Demolitions expert. Talented amateur. Hired hit? Where is BUCK! Where is Vin? Extras? Track car pieces - Buck Find witnesses? - Vin Money? - Where's Ezra?

Ezra walked, or snuck, in about three... just as he was getting really settled. "Well I see you are finally awake. Does this mean you are ready, and permitted, to do a little work?"

"It's what I've been trying to do. Trying to make a list... make this brain of mine get back into motion."

"Well, I do have semi-good news."

"I could use some good news."

"We still have auto insurance."

"Why wouldn't we... wasn't our fault."

"Doesn't seem to be any actuarial tables connected to car bombs... especially in multiples of two. As for liability, well... six cars totaled kind of messes up the curve a bit."

"Then how did you manage to keep us covered."

"I insured us with that company we helped get out from under the gang making up fraudulent claims. I reminded them we saved them several million, and we managed to avoid all publicity connecting them to the payoffs. By the time I reminded them of what information was available for publication, our rates even stayed the same."

"Not bad. So we're still insured."

"At least until we cost them a million... which I hope is far in the future."

"Well... I guess if you're giving semi-good news, I better give you my part."

"Which is?"

"Burlson and everybody else whose car got scratched will probably sue us... insurance or not. Since Burlson's car probably saved my skin, we might just want to make nice and pay to have that one fixed. You said semi-good news... let's have the other shoe."

"Medical... it doubled..."

"Doubled... for all of us?"

"Tripled for you."

"Tripled for me? But not for J.D.? Why?"

"He's a young man... where they classify you as..."

"I'm not even forty yet!"

"You are serious aren't you. Forty? On which calendar?"

"I'm gonna have to hurt you one of these days, Ezra. Did Buck or Vin come up with anything yet?"

"Not yet. Working on it... and they threatened me with serious physical consequences if I stayed gone more than an hour... and your wife threatens us all with annihilation if we bother you with news of the case. I best be returning to the nest."

"I don't care what she says... you boys keep me posted."

"Well, I'll do my part... as will Mr. Wilmington and Mr. Tanner... but if you expect Mr. Tanner to make a personal appearance, you are most definitely still delusional."

"Don't I know... okay... get out. Let me think. I've still got work to do."

"As do we all, my friend... as do we all."

Alone again, he let his head fall back against the piled up pillows, the pad and pen falling to the side. He had admitted it hurt a little... well, by now it hurt like hell, but he wasn't going to tell her unless it got a whole lot worse. He closed his eyes, and in a few minutes, he was drifting in semi-sleep.

The room was dark. "Help you?" He muttered it to the woman in his room. She was just there... a woman he didn't know, but someone he definitely felt he had seen before. She stood just inside the open door; dressed in a fancy, flowing dress. She had long, raven-black hair. What she wore was not an evening dress. It was long, but different somehow. If he had been asked, he would have said she was all just darkness and light. The look on her face seemed to change. At his first glance, she smiled a smile of tenderness and happiness. The next moment, the face held a look that bordered on hate. He saw her, but she did not approach, did not speak. On the third look, she was gone, and he was suddenly cold and more than afraid. His head was a great deal worse.

---

"Hi, Dad." The clock read seven-forty-five. He started awake, feeling groggy, as if the dream's visit had left fragments of uneasiness at the edge of his mind. She wasn't there. "Mom said I could come today, stay a little while if you're up to it."

"Sure, I'm alright." He tried to sound chipper. "How's school today? Thought baseball practice would go until after dark tonight. This is still Wednesday, right?"

"Yeah, it's Wednesday, and today's the day for practice. Coach said I could skip it this once. You really okay? You look like shit."

"Should I say thanks? Watch your language... You hear me use stuff like that way too much. It's fine around me, I don't think anything about it... but remember, lots of people find all that stuff offensive."

"Buck helped me learn a lot, ya know." At his father's sideways glance, he chuckled, "Okay. Okay. I hear you!"

"Good." He leaned his head back against the pillows. He couldn't ignore it much longer.

"You didn't answer me."

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?" The boy hoped he was, but knew he wasn't. He didn't want to hurt him, but it wasn't often they really talked... just the two of them.

"My head hurts like hell. You know how it goes. Banged up pretty bad, but I'll be alright. You wouldn't consider helping me take off these bandages on my leg would you? Getting where all my toes feel is a tingle."

"No luck, Dad. Mom said you were lucky, but J. D. was luckier. Now I see what she means."

"Yeah, he missed the fun of the first one; but that second one was a doozy. He'll be out for days before they let him really wake up."

"You get a piece of both?"

"Yeah. Literally." He reached up to touch the bandage on his forehead.

"Did Mom tell me right... They took out BOTH the sedans?"

"Yeah."

They were both silent... a few minutes of thinking about what if."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" There was another heartbeat of silence. "Well... what?!" He knew what was coming. The boy had asked the same question every time since he was about five. It was time the father answered his only son seriously.

"Just exactly why do you and your bunch do what you do?"

"Why do I do it?" Another moment of silence... time to let his son know how important the business was to him. "Because I'm good at it. No, I'm damn good at it. And, son, I love doing what I do. Uses my brain and my body, and it's never the same job twice."

"The others?"

"They're good at it too, but you'll have to ask them why. They might tell you, but I doubt they really know. We've all got different talents that bring us to the work. It took me a long time to admit that I just really like pulling people out of jams when nothing else has worked or answering mean little puzzles. Pays not bad, either. Don't let my being in here scare you. I'll be okay."

"Shoot... you being in here? I'm used to that, Dad. That's probably the first thing I ever remember... seeing you lying in a hospital bed with Mom trying to hold you down, or tie you down, or shoot you up with enough drugs to keep you down. Doesn't ever seem to work. First time was the worst. I think I was four, and I thought you were going to die."

"You weren't far from wrong. They thought I might. It's the only reason they let you in. Them letting you in might have actually saved my life. I got mad enough to fight when they made you leave." He shielded his eyes from the lamp on the bedside table. That was a little easier.

"You ever solve that one? You never talk about it."

"Just have to let it go. No sense wasting time thinking about it any more after you get moving again. We got him... at least Vin and Buck got him. We were the three original partners, you know. Ezra and J.D. came along later. Man was just a crazy. Didn't have anything to do with any of us. He just saw me on line with your Mom at a movie theatre. Worst part was that he shot me in the back with a Luger. I shouldn't have been alive after that, but he was a lousy shot. Why he went and shot me in the back, I never did figure out, especially when he kept saying that I had the Devil's own face. But I was thankful. Your Mom kinda likes my face, I think. But, I don't recommend taking a bullet that way... takes a long time to get everything inside to heal."

"You're mighty unruffled talking about it all. How do you learn to be that still inside? To just take it? Or do you learn it? Have you always been that way? Didn't you hurt?"

"Wasn't so unruffled at the time, and I hurt a lot! Never have learned to be still, inside or out. But, you look at pain and injury a little differently when it's not the only time you've gotten shot, or been beat up, or nearly drowned."

"But you go back and do it again. Isn't that sort of stupid?"

"Well, would be if you got shot or beat or drowned every single time you go out. That's why you train... so it doesn't happen real often. But you just never know. The boys and I try to keep our work on the civilized side, but if some son-of-a-bit... gun takes us on, we're ready to sort of handle the situation."

"I bet Mom's had a real good time. How long did it take you to get over that one?"

"Took around six months for body and soul to heal, and you better know we had a time of it. I wanted to be working. Nobody, not at the office, the hospital, or home, would let me do anything. You were well past being a baby. I was around you, but I couldn't play ball with you or do anything else. I was letting you down, but I was so jumpy, your playing with anything that made noise would set me off. I was afraid the agency would go under. Never any problem there, really. It was just something else to lay in that bed and worry about. While I was down, Vin and Buck actually pulled in lots of business. All I did was gripe and complain. I was treating your Mom so bad I got afraid I was gonna cause her to leave, but..."

"She knew you were just being a hard-headed jackass."

"Hey! Shoot. I was hurting. Did she tell you I was a jackass?"

"No." He grinned at his father, but the light went out of the boy's smile a tad too soon.

"Everything alright with you?" Good fathers noticed such changes... he was sorry that he wasn't always a good father, but he did try very hard.

"Yeah... well, I'm okay."

"I'm not dead yet, you can tell me if something's bothering you."

"Look, don't kid like that. I'm used to you being in here, but it still scares me, okay. It's just Ms. Pepperjohn."

"Ms. Pepperjohn? Oh... yeah... a teacher? One of your teachers? Right?"

"Homeroom teacher."

"Good. Those bombs didn't get to every brain cell I've got. What about her?"

"She knows who I am."

"What?" He sat forward, alarmed. "How'd she find out?"

"That woman who works in the office... Sandy?... well, she got word that my father was in the hospital, and came to bring me a note to call Mom. She walked in the room and asked Ms. Pepperjohn for Adam Larabee... not Adam Horton. Nobody's ever called me by your name before."

"I thought we had that all worked out. How'd the woman know?"

"I don't know. She switched to Adam Horton real fast, but I saw Ms. Pepperjohn's face change... somehow she recognized the name, and she made some kind of change, right there. This afternoon, she started giving me hell."

"Don't look for too much trouble, least not yet. Is there anything you could have done to give her cause? You're not a saint."

"No, Dad. There's not one darn thing. I thought about it hard all afternoon."

"What did she say? She do anything?"

"Called you a couple of real choice names, real low, under her breathe. She hit me a couple of swats with that paddle of hers... said I was causing trouble. She's nothing but a mean little hellcat, anyway, and it didn't hurt."

"Well, Larabee men have always been known for causing trouble." It mattered very much to the father, but he didn't want his son to realize the extent of his alarm. "I don't doubt you could take anything she dished out... I doubt you should have had to take it. But stuff happens. Told your Mom yet?"

"No."

"You'll need to do it tonight. You don't, I'll tell her in the morning myself. No secrets among us. It's important."

"I know. "

"You want me to talk to Pepperjohn for you?"

"I don't think you're in any shape..."

"I won't be here forever! I'll talk with her when I get out, or your Mom can talk to her tomorrow... no difference..."

"No."

"No?"

"Dad, I can talk to her or the principal myself. I need to take care of it, unless she starts playing real rough. That happens, I'll let you and Mom both have a go at her. You just always want to know."

"Suit yourself. You can always tell either or both of us what you need."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" His head was getting worse by the minute. Still, there was never much time for the two of them to really talk. The older he got, the older his son got, the harder the questions and the more important that he make the time to answer.

"Why don't you let me use your name? I am legit aren't I?"

"We've been over this. Your mother is my wife and has been for more than your almost seventeen years. I can't imagine ever having anyone else to love me like that. It's a real special thing that only comes along once, and then, only if you're lucky. You're our son. Our only son, our only child, at least for now." He smiled a smart-alecky smile and reached over to ruffle his son's hair. "You're a pure blooded, hardheaded, Larabee stud, out of spirited and quality Horton stock, and I'm proud that you're my son." Adam blushed crimson to the top of his ears. "I've told you before why we enrolled you without my name... used your Mom's maiden name instead."

"Why? It's been so long. I thought you planned to change it back."

"You know what business I'm in. You know I make serious enemies at times. Like now, somebody trying to blow me and J.D. apart. I don't know who, and I don't know why... at least not yet. Since I asked her to marry me, I've been more than a little paranoid about something happening. When she finally said yes, I made her a promise. I wouldn't knowingly do anything that would bring one of my clients or their trouble into our home. She keeps accounts and works under her maiden name. When you came along, paranoid didn't begin to touch it for me. I got her to agree it would be just as easy to use her maiden name as your last name. We used Adam Horton, rather than Adam Larabee, and on the easy-to-find birth certificate you father is named Chris Horton. When it got time to put you in school, we kept it that way, and we put you in a place that's secure. Almost every kid in your school has security concerns, or at least their parents do. Only other ones who know who you are are the partners, Josiah, and Nathan, and the principal. I'm not even sure Casey knows, but J.D.'s not good at keeping secrets from her. We even talked with your grandfather and got one of his friends to sort of bury your real birth certificate. We have the original in a safe place when you need it. There's a forged one at the courthouse and in state records. You'll always have a choice."

"You took a lot of chances protecting me."

"Not too many. Not enough to suit me, but I couldn't think of anything else to do beside send you to a cabin in the wilds of Mongolia. I couldn't keep you a secret from the boys, though. I had to have somebody other than your Mom to know... how else was I gonna be able to brag about you?" He was trying to lighten the conversation.

"But it ignores the fact that you're my father."

"You'd be the only one who could ever do that, and it matter. Your Mom and I agreed that you would always know, and when you got older, you could decide for yourself what last name to use."

"I'd change now if you'd let me. No offense with her name, but you are my father. I'm not ashamed or scared of it. Can I do it now?"

"Not yet... wait until you've seen what goes on with older eyes than you've got right now. I'm afraid you've got an idea that what I do is glamorous. Truth is, it's hard work, lots of times really boring, other times an adrenaline rush. It's worry. It's lots of leg work and more brain work. But the danger is there, and it's real. You've visited me in the hospital enough to know. You forget that part of the business, you aren't in business long."

"What movie were you in line to see?"

"What? Oh. Let's see... Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom, I think."

"Must have been your choice."

"What can I say, it was Spielberg. It was action! My birthday, my choice. "

"Spooky choice."

"As it turned out... damn spooky. Didn't get to see it for years." He was glad the boy was here, and he was able to talk with him, but he thought his head was going to fall off. He let it fall back against the pillows.

"Dad?"

"WHAT!" He regretted it instantly, both for raising his head from the pillow and for raising his voice at his son. "Sorry... Can't get my head to stop for even a minute... Mom says it's a concussion. I've been barking at her all day, too. No excuses though. What was it you wanted to ask?"

"When you start working on this... can I... would you let me... can I work with you on this case?"

"Your mother would kill me."

"But I want to work on it. Maybe just help at the office... you know, ask people questions... look up stuff... hell, I'll sweep the office, too."

"You that desperate to be connected to me?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then... No."

"Awh, Dad. Come on."

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen... sixteen and a half."

"You counting halves doesn't make you seem older. Dangerous age. You think you know lots of things, when you only see glimpses. Dangerous age."

"I won't be doing anything dangerous."

"Neither were J.D. and Casey. Just going off for her birthday. Neither was I... just in line to see a movie. Friday, I was just trying to come home for the weekend. You just never know."

"Hell, Dad. You just never know anything at any time. If you're gonna go, you're gonna go... and I don't necessarily think how you go makes a difference... it's just what's convenient and close by when your number's up... car, bus, plane, train... bomb."

"Keep talking like that, they'll be calling you nuts, too."

"I'll risk it. Can I try? I want to know what it's like."

"First, you're gonna explain your philosophy to your Mother. If she says yes, I'll let you come in on weekends. J.D.'s going to be out awhile. You can run errands for him when he gets to the point he knows he's tied down. He's almost as mean as me when you try to sit on him. You can take care of some research too. First time grades slip or you use it to skip baseball practice, or to pick up a girl, I'll pitch you out of there. Understand? It's not a game. And your name will never be Adam Horton or Adam Larabee while you're there."

"Yes, sir. I know it's not a game... just one more thing?"

"As long as it's just one. Okay?"

"When are you going back up to the boundary again?"

"Don't have a clue. Why? I was there about a month ago... wasn't planning another trip real soon."

"When you go... can I go too?"

"You interested? Kind of sudden isn't it?"

"Yeah. We've been studying about the area in state history class. I'd like to see it, find out what you like so much about it."

"Sure. You want to go, I'll take you. If your Mom wants to go, we'll make a weekend of it. If she doesn't, why don't we get Josiah to go along? That would make a good plan. But you do know there's no town there... just a bunch of loner types and a historical marker."

"Then how did you learn so much about it?"

"Been talking to an old man up there. Name's Bill Bonney, if that's his real one, which I doubt. He knows a lot... sort of serves as the local library and looney bin, too. Collects lots of stuff. Says he's inherited things collected by generations of his family. He don't try to remember yesterday, but you get him started about a hundred or more years ago... he's got a steel trap for a brain. Remind me to pick him up some taffy... and some jawbreakers ... the ones with the hot centers."

"You think he ought to have those?"

"He's older, but he isn't dead anymore than me. At 80, he's still got all his own teeth, and he likes taffy and jawbreakers. I take him candy, he let's me have a few sips of his home remedy. More than a fair trade. Remind me. Right now, I haven't got too much of a brain myself."

"What are you still doing here? I told you to stay a few minutes. It's nearly eight-thirty. Chris, you're supposed to be getting ready for sleep." She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at both of the delinquents.

"And I've got a report due tomorrow! Night, Dad."

"Mighty convenient report, sport." He needed to teach the boy how to make a more dignified retreat. "You remember to talk with your Mother about that question you had. You'll have to help me remember about the trip. How are you getting home?"

"Buck said to call him and he'd give me a ride. Hope your head stops hurting and you rest well... I'll come by tomorrow."

The boy had escaped. The father wished he were so lucky. He let his head fall back on the pillows again.

"The comment was rest well. Since you haven't rested at all this afternoon, I have a little present for you."

He spied the needle. "That's not fair. We had a bargain. I stayed put all afternoon!"

"I kept my end of the bargain, I didn't put you out... but it's time for sleep, so this is the final phase of our bargain."

"Awwwwww"

---

Chapter 5

The shot had done nothing to help. He knew he had had too much. It wasn't putting him under, wasn't making him easy. Instead, he was awake, confused, and his attempts at sleep left him laden with feelings and thoughts he could not avoid.

Tired and uneasy, he rose and limped to the window near the foot of the bed. A glance told him that J.D. still slept, his breathing easy. A slight chill reached him as he approached the panes of glass.

From somewhere, he thought he heard music. A soft, wistful sound, with a woman's voice as clear as crystal..."all that's left of two hearts on fire ..." He had awakened to the sound of the song, now he stared in disbelief at the woman across the room. She was alone, but slightly closer to the bed than before. She was silent, staring at him, with a quizzical look on her face, studying him with a look that seemed suddenly to fill with intense sadness. As he saw her, a name hovered just out of reach, trying to escape his lips.

Then his head exploded in a wave of agonizing pain. He didn't remember falling to the floor, rolling into a ball, or screaming for help.

---

"Lie still." Nathan was taking his pulse, checking his eyes.

He was back on the bed, weak and tired, but no more terrible pain. "I'm alright."

"No, you're not. You pushed yourself way to hard yesterday. Terry said you didn't rest all afternoon, just wrote on those pads of yours. It's the first day you were really awake. What were you doing up tonight? Were you working again? That sedative should have held you well until morning."

"They never work right. You and Terry should know they don't work for me. By the time I've had this much, it's just hell. Can't eat, can't sleep, can't wake up. I feel nervous and on edge. You give me much more of it, and I'm gonna be sick to my stomach on top of the rest. I know you're trying to give my head time to quit hurting by putting me out, but just STOP. I'll sleep when I'm tired." Just as suddenly as it had erupted, his temper cooled. "Any more than that's a waste of my time anyway. I don't want anymore. What time is it?"

"One-thirty."

"Morning?"

"Yeah."

"Thursday morning? Or did I lose another day somewhere?"

"Don't worry about that. Yeah, it's Thursday morning."

"Did you find someone in my room?"

"Someone was here?"

"Thought I saw a woman standing in the room. I don't know."

"Didn't see anyone around. Do you know when you got up?"

"Think it was a little before midnight, not sure, wasn't seeing too clear. . Saw her just a few minutes after I got out of bed. Anybody on this floor have a radio or CD player?"

"Shouldn't have... not at night, not loud enough for a patient to hear it. Why?"

"Thought I heard music. Guess I was hallucinating pretty good."

"Well, you may have been hallucinating, music and woman, but your head was trying to tell you something. You need to sleep and stay in bed until that headache stops. Listen to your head and forget about the music, and the woman."

"Look, I don't need to sleep."

"I don't think I've ever seen you this stubborn." Dressed in a soft sweater and jeans, Terry was back, standing in the door, looking tired and concerned.

"Don't be mad... I tried to sleep. Just couldn't. Sorry they called you."

"Why couldn't you sleep? You were awake all afternoon... you had a long visit with Adam... you should have been able to sleep, but you have to let yourself give in to it."

"But I don't sleep... not when you make me take those shots. Every time you two try it... once I get past the first dose or two, everything starts going down hill. I don't know why... but it makes me feel strange. It's the exact same thing every time I get put in here."

"Maybe I just don't realize that you've got a problem with the medication itself. You did have a concussion... we confirmed that. Maybe the concussion's not there anymore, but we can't tell it cause the drugs are getting to you first."

"You think? Damn, Nathan, then quit giving that stuff to me. Let me go!"

"You can't go until we know that's what it is."

"And just how long will it take to discover that?"

"Look, you stay here until tomorrow. The medicine should clear your system sometime around noon... with your metabolism, maybe sooner. That's probably your only salvation. It doesn't stay around that long. Tomorrow, if you're okay, we'll let you go to the house."

"That's more like it."

"He said to the house, not to the office."

"I heard him."

"Did you understand? If you didn't, say so now and I'll make arrangements for Sid to go home with you."

"I heard him. I don't need a baby sitter."

"I'm glad... Nathan, why don't you go home. I'm going to sleep in the recliner the rest of tonight. Adam knows where I am, and Buck's keeping an eye on him."

"Then I'll say goodnight. Chris, listen. For just one day, until I can tell what's going on with your head, please just stay down. I'm going to have them draw some blood in the morning to see if that sedative has caused any problems, and I'll probably do one more CAT just to be sure nothing has changed. I'm hoping we'll find that you were more likely having some kind of allergic reaction or might even be in withdrawal. If you burned up the medicine like you normally do, that would be a possibility. If that's the case, I think if you stay really still, you'll maybe get past this without another attack like you had tonight."

---

Chapter 6

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt any more?" It was late afternoon Thursday. Nathan was trying as hard as he could to think of a reason to keep him there. He had stalled as long as he could by x-raying and then slowly removing the ace bandages from his leg.

"Boy, that feels better. I'm okay, Nathan. You can turn me loose." He did feel better. He had done what they asked and rested for the greater part of the night and morning.

"Okay isn't good enough. Does your head still hurt. You ever eat anything?"

"My head's not bad. I've been drinking juice, had one of those awful things they call a shake, drank something they called soup. I'll get something better when I get home."

"Keep it soft for a couple of days. I'm not sure about your stomach. Answer my question. Does your head still hurt?"

"Shoot, Nathan. It hurts a little, but it's more like a good old fashioned headache. Nothing like what's been going on the last few days. What did the CAT show? How about the blood work?"

"CAT was fine. Blood work early this morning still showed minute traces of the sedative, but the one we took a while ago was clear."

"Then I can go home." He smiled, determined to do as he wanted, stood up and started for the closet. "Where are my clothes?"

"I wish you'd stay over one more day... I don't like it when--"

"I'm going, Nathan. Sign the orders and turn me loose."

"You can't drive... not yet. Is your vision still blurry?"

"No. Stop hunting for excuses to keep me here. Terry got time to drive me home?"

"No."

"Buck, Vin, any of the boys around?"

"No. Buck was here yesterday. You know Vin, not gonna come here if we don't tie him up first."

"And you're not going home!" She walked in wanting a full scale war this time.

"Come on, Terry. I'll be better off out of here."

"Nathan told me about the nightmare. You could still be having problems with the medicine, or with the concussion... I want you to make sure you're okay."

There was a sharply defined look of agitation in his face, and he was adamant about his plan. "Look, I want out. I'm going to go home. I'm sorry if it upsets you, but I don't want to be here anymore. I'm getting out. I'll be home when you get there, and, if it's absolutely necessary, we'll finish this conversation then. JUST HUMOR ME."

She starred at him. Just humor me, a final plea, a plea from this man to just leave him alone. He used those exact words, generally without recognition, whenever he had feelings he could not explain... or problems he could not solve... like the nightmares. The last time he used it was just before he went to the boundary a month before.

"Hi, Dad. Hey, they turning you loose? Mom said..."

"How'd you get here?"

"Buck, gave me a..."

"He still here?"

"Yeah... supposed to let him know if I need as ride home."

"Well, I need a ride. We're going home."

"Chris..."

"Terry... no more. I'm going home."

Nathan didn't like it, but it was time to let the man control his own life. "It'll take about thirty minutes for us to get your paperwork in order. You get dressed, and stop by the front desk on your way out."

"Thanks, Nathan. Really, thanks for everything. I just need to go."

"So it seems. Mulehead."

"Adam, you call Buck and tell him I'm coming."

"I'm coming with you too... okay?"

"Suite yourself."

Hospital paperwork and regulations. He hated them even more than being stuck in the place... especially having to be wheeled out. Even when he arrived at the front desk, his release was delayed. "Mr. Larabee," the syrupy sweet clerk produced a rafter of forms, "if you'll just sign these, we'll let you be on your way. Please remember to stay in the wheelchair until your ride comes."

Adam was glad he was going home... and very glad to be visiting the desk, especially since a very pretty young, redhead was on duty, and not very busy. He was practicing his conquest skills. As they talked, a beautiful dark headed woman stopped the redhead to ask for information.

Standing near the entrance, Buck noticed his partner's mood of the moment, and came to distract him. "Well, stud, going home? How'd you manage it? Nathan's not getting soft is he?"

"No. The two of them are trying to keep me down just as long as they possibly can. Come on, can we ever get out of here."

"Yeah, if that watch dog don't stop your progress." He pointed surreptitiously toward one of the aides from the man's previous floor. She was standing behind the desk, watching him, writing something on a piece of paper.

"If she's planning to stop me, she better start getting more help than she's got."

She approached him. "Mr. Larabee. Ms. Horton asked that I give you these." She handed him a small white envelope.

"What are they?"

"I don't know. She said you're to take them with you. Some kind of souped up sedative from what I can tell. She said it might help you rest."

"Rest... hell!"

"Okay. Enough. Ma'am, he's just a ornery cuss right now. I'll put the pills in my pocket. Chris, is there anything I need to get?"

"Just me. Left the little bit I had for Terry to bring later. Let's go." He started to stand up. Something caught his attention, from the far corner of the desk. He dropped back into the wheelchair, turning to the other side. "Buck!," he hissed. He was pale, and strangely nervous.

"What is it? You having problems? Maybe you should go back..."

"Get Adam out of there! Take him upstairs. Find Terry. Take care of J.D. and Casey. Get them all someplace safe."

"What's got into you."

"Do you see that woman at the other end of the counter?"

"There are maybe 20 women around there... which one?"

"Small; long, black-wavy hair; dressed in a black and white print dress."

"Yeah, I see her. What about her?"

"Do you know her?"

"Can't say as I do. Wouldn't mind though."

Adam had noticed what appeared to be an argument brewing between his father and Buck. He quickly said goodbye to the redhead and headed over to see if he could maybe keep the argument from getting loud and boisterous. As he arrived, he heard his father's words, "Well, I know her."

"How do you know her?"

"I don't know. But I know her."

One of those. "You don't know how you know her? Nathan said to watch out in case that concussion sets in again."

"It's not any concussion. I've seen her. I just don't know her name. She's been in my room twice."

"You think she might be involved..."

"I don't know. She's just attached to a feeling I've been having."

"Lord, Almighty, Chris... you feel you know her. You having one of your psychic flashes again."

"It's not a psychic flash, and it's no joke, Buck. I've felt things lots of times, but this time's different. This time I saw her. Keep Adam away from her, and get all of them safe and away from me. I'll need Vin, too. I'll wait down here until you get them settled. Adam, you're not going with me, go stay with your mother."

"You said yes!" Buck even jumped. The boy was having his very first Larabee fit right in front of his father.

"Now I say NO!"

"Calm down, both of you."

He saw the fire in his son's eyes, and knew his rejection had been a mistake. "Look... that woman over there is one I know. I don't know how. I just know she's dangerous."

"She isn't dangerous!"

"How would you know she isn't dangerous?"

"She's Ms. Pepperjohn's sister."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah... she subs sometimes."

"That tears it. Old man, your head is on just about as backwards as it can be today. You just come on upstairs so I don't have to watch two places at once. We just need to sit down and have a little discussion... try to sort this out."

"No. I go upstairs, you'll tell em I've gone nuts, and I won't get loose anytime soon. I shouldn't be in danger in the middle of the reception area. Just get me as far away from any of my family as soon as you possibly can."

"Is it far enough to get you home?"

"I'm not going home, Buck. Adam's the only one going upstairs besides you."

"Yes. But when I come down, you are going home."

"No. I'm going to the office. Nobody's in the cave are they? I'll stay there tonight, if you'll keep watch for a little while. I need to do some thinking, check some old information, and I need to do that more than I need to do any sleeping. Just humor me."

Buck's eyes opened wide. All of the partners recognized the phrase, even if the old man didn't. "That important?"

"Yes. I know her Buck. Somehow I know her, and she scares me to death."

---

Chapter 7

The cave was a place of refuge, well planned from the start to fit within the old warehouse that held the agency. It occupied the top floor, and unless a partner made the arrangements, no one would ever know it was there. The first elevator brought people to the main agency office, on the floor below, or to the other professional offices that rented space on the five lower floors. When in use, only the partners, the staffer on duty and the extremely well paid full-time housekeeper had access to the shelter from a small elevator that was hidden as a mechanical closet in the back of the sixth floor below. Clients who faced danger were often spirited into the suite of rooms during early morning hours, scheduled to remain there while the men solved their problems for them.

In the common area, guests could fight over two treadmills, a few current books, a television that wasn't hooked to cable but did have a vcr with a small selection of tapes, and one telephone locked and guarded by the housekeeper. There were no connected computers, so no e-mail or Internet worries. The staffer's computer, bolted to the desk, was triple password protected just to get anyone past start-up. If they succeeded in breaking through all that, they only found a few old, uninspiring computer games. By then, generally even computer enthusiasts were ready to give up. Nobody had a phone in the apartments. The partners had found they could trust their clients to, at least once, attempt to phone their (a) home, (b) paramour, (c) mother, or (d) bookie... not necessarily in that order. If they attempted a call from the one available phone, anyone who attempted to trace the call would have found that the phone belonged to a run-down truck stop in Tortilla Flat.

This was an inner sanctum with seven smallish apartments. Each was furnished with two double beds, a tiny kitchenette, an equally small bath, a tinier closet, a very good work table, and several extremely comfortable chairs. Few people slept well in these rooms, but they worked or worried a great deal. Each room had only one door, and that was narrow in all rooms except one. Seven inner rooms... one for each partner, and two more for safe keeping, literally.

He chose the one nearest the common area. There was no luggage, so he went to the closet, where an assortment of leisure clothing hung. He chose pajamas, folding the top into one of the drawers in the closet's corner. He stripped quickly and threw his now shabby suit on the floor inside, wondering if the remaining smoke and propellant smells would get into everything else. He stretched his body determinedly, spending extra minutes on his injured leg and arm, starting a routine to rebuild the muscles. In the cramped bathroom, he found individually wrapped toiletries and opened what he needed. The long, hot shower was a marvel of luxury after the detestable sponge baths of the past days.

"You not going to eat?" Buck was seated at the table in his room when he came out drying his hair.

"No. Not now."

"We've got stuff in the central kitchen... soup, those little pudding things, can microwave some of that rice or pasta stuff--"

"You can stop just about now..."

"You still green?"

"You ever see me come out of that place when I wasn't green? Do we have any soda?"

"Soda? Don't you want a beer?"

"No."

"Well, come on... I'll raid the refrigerator for you. Regular, decaffeinated; sugar, no sugar; ice, no ice?"

"Regular, sugar, lots of ice. Make it a cola if we've got it. And bring a real glass."

He followed his friend, the one who had watched his back for more than two decades, but he stopped at a large leather couch in the center of the room. The other man finished a quick inspection tour of the galley and returned with what he'd been asked to bring. Tucked under his arm was a box of whole wheat crackers, a wedge of cheese, and a cheese knife, just in case.

"Good idea. Open em up, and we'll share."

"Saving my skin?"

"Yeah. Mine, too. Figure Terry's made you promise to see that I eat, sleep, and do every other little natural thing while I'm here."

"Damn right."

"You get Adam squirreled away with her and the others."

"I got him upstairs. That's all I can say good about the experience. You made that boy mad as a rattlesnake. And Chris, about sleep--"

"Oh, hell!"

"You know you've got to get some. It's late. We don't have anything pressing yet to keep you up..."

"No, just a bomb... excuse me, two bombs; an injured partner with a pregnant wife who got bombed with us; just a woman I know, but don't know, who's been in my room, and just happened to walk up to that desk while Adam was there. Just a woman who scares me to death. Plus who and why?"

"Plus what?"

"No... plus who and why."

"Vin won't show at the hospital, but he got Ezra to go and make sure everybody stayed bedded down. We need to get started on the case, but tomorrow morning's not too far off. If you were to get eight good hours..."

"Not going to happen."

"...or six or even five, you won't have to apologize to your wife, and neither will I. Why don't you at least lay down and try. You need anything else?

"No."

"Gonna give it maybe a little try?"

"Oh, hell!"

"Now, that's being a real good boy."

He returned to the bedroom, finishing the cola as he moved. He didn't expect to be able to sleep, but he was surprised at how good the mattress felt. He was actually tired. He stretched out on the bed, glad to feel it's firmness beneath soft exterior coverings. The things he missed were the pillows he'd hustled at the hospital. He got up again, walked next door, stole the pillows there, returned to his room, swiped the extra one from the closet, and piled them all around. They were the only answer for having to sleep in a lonely bed without Terry.

He began to drift off. The air was cool and clean. The only sounds were the muted television from where Buck sat guard and the circulating air from the ductwork in the ceiling. He slept deeply, restfully for the first time since the explosion. Buck checked on him a few hours later and smiled when he heard the easy breathing.

Music entered his mind. "...all that's left of two hearts on fire..." He could have enjoyed it... would have enjoyed it... but someone was there. She stood next to the bed, close enough to touch him, the quizzical expression back on her face. Her lips traced a few words, and this time, his mind knew he heard, even as he knew his ears hadn't. "I've looked for you." She was gone, didn't walk away, just disappeared. "Wait... who are you?" His head felt torn apart.

Buck was watching something Chris would have normally derided as high class smut. It was as close as the big man still came to being a carouser. His occasional night on duty at the cave was his only opportunity to go wild. There was no plot, no intellectual dialogue, so it didn't matter if he turned the sound to near zero. He thought he heard a sound from the room where Chris slept. The man must have been completely worn out... he had slept for nearly three hours.

"Buck... you got that stuff Terry sent?" He was standing in the doorway, leaning heavily against the door jam. He looked ragged. He came into the room rubbing bloodshot eyes. He looked even greener than before.

"Lord, Stud, I've seen you look better after one of our old two-day benders! What are you doing up? Thought you were going to get some good sleep for a change."

"Me, too. But she won't leave me alone."

"She? The headache's a woman now? Or is this something I don't want to know about?"

"That damn ghost!" He sat on the couch, elbows on knees, head in his hands, pushing hard against his eye sockets to try to stop the pain.

Buck's look of disbelief would have been comical, except he really was beginning to think the other man was going pure loco. "I don't think anyone's been here... at least not tonight. And I didn't think you believed in those things either."

"Hard not to when they wake you up to say hello. Look, get the pills. My head's gone off again."

"Sit down, I'll get them and some water."

The directions said Take two with water after a meal. He chewed up three, followed by a cracker to chase away the taste and nothing else.

"You know it's the concussion. It's got to be. You've been crazy for years with these feelings of yours, but you've never seen spooks have you?"

"No... sure don't remember having one pop up beside my bed."

"Damn, Chris. You're seeing and hearing em now? What did she say?"

"Said I've looked for you. I swear Buck. She was there. And I heard her, even though the sound didn't come from her. And I heard music again."

"Don't tell me anything else. This is just too damn spooky."

"Well, let's just forget about it. I'm going to try to sleep again."

"If I was seeing and hearing something like that, I wouldn't sleep until it was absolutely necessary."

"I haven't slept too well without drugs for most of a week, and not too well with them either. Tonight, my body tells me it's getting pretty well necessary. You stay awake and see if she comes back. I'd rather not meet her again any time soon. She's getting too damn close." He walked back to the room, lay down again, and waited for the souped up sedative to help him pass out. "Hey, Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"Vin coming tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Supposed to spell me about eight or nine."

"Good. I've got some tracking I want him to take up. And call Josiah."

"Good Lord, Almighty. What do you need your preacher for?"

"He and Terry are the only two who don't call me nuts about this. May think it, but at least they don't say it. Josiah's always studying strange stuff. I think this might just be strange enough to interest him."

---

Chapter 8

"I did miss you in the congregation last weekend." It was the crack of dawn and the broad-smiling preacher had been there for about twenty minutes. He had brought supplies and cooked his parishioner a decent breakfast in the small kitchenette before he would let any conversation begin. Of his group of friends, the preacher was the only one who would stop everything and show up before sunrise to talk about spooks. No question, he knew this member of his flock would probably be as wide awake as he. The others would come and go throughout the day. They would come... knowing that the hunt was on, and Larabee was leading the hunt.

"Probably didn't miss me that much. Even people at the church think I'm mostly a basket case." He brought a fresh cup of creamed and sweetened coffee to the cleric, setting it on the worktable, next to the fresh cup of black he had poured for himself.

"When you rope them into a long-winded theoretical discussion on reincarnation... that congregation is NOT pleased, especially when you don't say two words any other time. Not too many of them think you're even capable of being a deep thinker."

"Keep em guessing. And I never said I believed it... I was just thinking about reincarnation and psychic power."

Was it true? He didn't know. He sure wasn't a movie-style psychic. He didn't see demons, or see visions of the future in blood-drenched color. What he had didn't come that often, didn't always come when needed. No, he just sometimes felt like he intimately knew people he'd just met, and sometimes the feelings came on a little too sudden... these feelings he had learned to trust. They provided very small pieces of information about people, or about a case he was on. Often the feelings told him who he should protect or told him to run. He didn't know why he had them, where they came from, but he listened. He'd learned to use the feelings, and to keep his mouth shut about their presence. This was the type of feeling that had saved J.D. and Casey.

"Why do you think I'm suddenly tuned into something different like this? Is it even possible?"

"Possible. Possible. We certainly don't have the answers to the universe. There are lots of people out there who believe we're destined to return. Some think we keep coming back if we've been bad. Other's think we come back until we've done certain things right."

"What do you believe?"

"That the Good Lord love's a soul that's unafraid of the search. Or else your skull's been pounded once too often, or you really have gone nuts. You've told me about your feelings before... what's so different about this time?"

"I saw her."

"Her? Your apparition is a woman?"

"Yeah. Beautiful woman. I heard her too."

"You saw her? She spoke to you? What did she say?"

"I've been looking for you. And there was music somewhere."

"Music?"

"Song I don't remember at all. I've never heard it, at least not before the first time I saw her."

"I didn't think these feelings came with audio or video feeds. How many times have you seen her?"

"Three so far. She keeps getting closer, and every time she comes and goes, my head explodes."

"Music have words? How's it go?"

"Just part of a line, really... all that's left of two hearts on fire..."

"Love song! A ghost sending you a love song! You told Terry about this particular vision? Bet she'd chase her off for you."

"LOVE SONG?! Hell! All Terry knows is what Nathan blabbed... that I was having nightmares. Keep your trap shut, Josiah."

"It is a love song."

"And how do you know that?"

"I have it."

"You have it?"

"I have it. It's on the CD in my jeep... Selection number 7... real sad love song... makes me want to cry."

"I've never heard it."

"Yeah you have, but you probably don't remember. Only place I know you to sleep for a real long while is when we drive back from the boundary. Old jeep of mine must feel like a baby's cradle to you. When we came back from there a couple of weeks ago, you fell asleep about ten minutes this side of Mexican Water. I started the CD to keep from talking to you. That's lyrics from one of my favorite cuts. I tend to put the CD on repeat for that one."

"What's the name of the song?"

"A Ghost in This House. Damn appropriate if you ask me. Speaking of appropriate, if you don't mind me butting into your business, what did you do to that boy of yours?"

"Do to him?"

"He's downstairs in the main office, at this time of the morning, talking to Ezra, and he's some kind of mad. From what I can gather, all the insults he was hurling were aimed at you."

"I told him yes, then I told him no, to the same question in the space of about thirty minutes. He didn't like the no. I didn't know he was here."

"You've got an army out there. Vin, Nathan, Terry. Buck's sleeping in a room two doors down. Ezra's minding the store and trying to calm your boy down."

"Who's at the hospital?"

"J.D., of course."

"Nobody guarding him?"

"Nobody saw a need, not after we figured out that the woman you saw wasn't a threat."

"How is J.D.? Casey?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Heard?"

"He's a father!"

"I'll be damned... when?"

"Late last night. She went into labor real sudden. Scared Nathan and Terry pretty good. J.D. had a true to life Larabee fit! He made them wheel him, in his bed, to the birthing suite so he could be there!"

"Is everything, everybody okay?"

"Baby's premature... but not much... They've got him in an incubator just to make sure. Casey wound up with a C-section, so she's not real easy yet... but she's smiling a lot anyway."

"A boy. J.D. with a son. That's just great. What's the name?"

"John Christopher Dunne."

"What?"

"John Christopher Dunne. Hell of a name if you ask me. J.D. said you and Terry are gonna stand as godparents."

"Yeah. We said we would. I'd have never thought he'd use my name, though."

"J.D.'s name... John, plus your name... Christopher. Gonna call him Chris."

"I'll be." He thought about that for a few minutes. A namesake. The smile on his face was the most tender Josiah had seen on him since Adam's birth. "Who's he look like?"

"Unfortunately, he looks like J.D. Maybe the boy'll outgrow it. " His grin was highly infectious. But he could also be serious, "Speaking of sons. You gonna set things straight with that one of yours? What did you say no to that got him that mad? Didn't think he was one to malign his father's name in such a despicable manner."

"He's not one that's apt to, at least I hope not. He does have his father's temper on occasion, though. Shoot, Josiah, I told him he could come here with me last night... then I told him he had to stay at the hospital and go into hiding with his mother."

"That the way you put it. Stay with his mother?"

"Yeah, I was a little distracted at the moment. Distracted, hell... I was scared out of my mind."

"Scared?"

"Had a feeling."

"Another one?"

"Woman who came up behind Adam at the hospital. Something inside me just said to get Adam away from her... to protect us all."

"Did you recognize the woman?"

"Yeah. It was the apparition."

"What?"

"It was the ghost, in the flesh."

"I reserve the right to reconsider whether you're just crazy. What makes you think they're the same?"

"Well... looked the same. Small, long black hair, black and white clothing."

"What about the face?"

"I don't know. Seemed the same."

"Now we're gonna get somewhere. Adam says she, the woman at the hospital, is a substitute teacher from the high school."

"Yeah... that's what he said."

"Then get Ezra up here and get him to do a sketch of the woman that was close to Adam. Then, you get him to do a sketch of your ghost. Don't look at Adam's before you finish yours. Then let's have a look and see if they're really the same."

"Now that's a good plan. Get Buck to make arrangements, and if you'll give me a few minutes, I think I'd better talk with my son."

---

Chapter 9

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just got scared."

Adam had responded reluctantly to his father's call. He was listening with a distant respect. That was the most generous thing the father could call the boy's attitude.

"You don't ever get scared."

"What would make you say a stupid thing like that!"

"Hell, you don't ever seem scared. You don't ever seem like you're anything but in total control."

"That's a bunch of crap. You ever seen me when I'm working?"

"No, but I could have last night if you'd have let me come."

"I wasn't working last night. I was trying to hide. When I'm working, when any of us are working, we get angry, nervous, down right terrified lots of times. We're just men, Adam."

"Why'd you make me stay at the hospital? I told you she wasn't dangerous."

"You said it, but my brain didn't. I generally trust my brain."

"And what was that Just humor me you told Buck. He shut up the minute you said it, and he started to move to get you what you wanted. All of a sudden, he looked real worried."

"I guess I say that more often than I realize."

"I never hear you say that."

"If you're around me at work, you probably will hear it at times. Otherwise, it's your Mother that hears it. There are a few things I try not to say in front of you... and I wish you'd try to keep some things to yourself, too. I don't want people thinking I'm raising a hellion."

"What's Just humor me mean when you say it?"

"Probably means I'm nuts."

"What?"

"Look. About ten or so years ago, before you were old enough to remember, all of us were trying to catch a stalker. We knew we were close to him, had several location leads, so we broke up to keep watch. I found him, but the way I found him was that he hit me over the head with the butt of a gun. It was my first, full-blown concussion. After I got out of the hospital, I started having these feelings of mine. I don't know why, but I know they're real. Never know why they come, but when they do, I pay attention, and all the others have come to pay attention to them. They all think I'm probably nuts sometimes, but it's just like a week ago... I didn't feel there was a bomb in my car... I heard the tick and saw the wire... solid evidence. But I felt there was a bomb in J.D.'s car. That's why I went after him... that and no other reason on earth."

"Damn, Dad! What does it say?"

"Generally doesn't say anything. Just a feeling... no noise... real quiet... just comes. Friday, it was screaming in my head like a banshee; yesterday it was about the same. No sound... just panic. I just needed you away from that woman, needed you away from me, with your Mother, 'cause the boys could guard you, and you could both guard each other."

"But why would you get the impression that Ms. Pepperjohn's sister was dangerous?"

"That's something I want Vin to figure out, and if you want, I'd like for you to help him."

"Sure! What do I do?

"How should I know. Vin's the best tracker; do what he tells you to do. Get the work done. Look, I'm sorry I sort of treated you like you were still a little kid. Didn't mean to do it yesterday, and I sure won't do it if you work here." He turned toward the door and simply yelled... "Vin, get in here."

The tracker entered, pushing back the hat that always adorned his long brown hair. He propped against the door jam, "Somebody yell my name? What's up?"

"You ready to track that woman?"

"You bet... just waiting to know who I'm tracking."

"Adam knows her."

"Should track pretty easy then."

"He's gonna get with Ezra to get a composite done. He knows at least one of her kin... another teacher. You be upset if he starts his professional training by working with you?"

"He's just a kid!"

"He's my kid."

"A kid with a mouth, you ask me. Well, I suppose if I can birddog you, I can birddog him. Just exactly for how long?"

"We'll see."

"What do I do, Mr. Tanner."

"Stop calling me Mr. Tanner for a start. It's been Vin all your life; it's Vin now. Come on. I'll start you out with Ezra, then it's on to the dang paper work, teach you how to surf the Net some. You're gonna learn pretty quick that what I hate, you get to do. It was good enough for J.D., it's good enough for you."

"I know how to surf... just not where to surf."

"You know how to tell what's good information from what's a piece of scuttlebutt? What's worth hunting down?"

"Well, no."

"It'll take practice, but we'll fix that. Get on downstairs to my office, I'll be along directly." The two hard and fast friends watched him go.

"Thanks. I sort of stepped on his pride yesterday."

"Batting a thousand, pard. You stepped on mine a minute ago. You're forgiven 'cause he's your boy, and you've been a little puny... but don't go trying to impress him by pulling rank on me like that again."

"Won't promise... but I'll try."

"Fair enough. You back?"

"Getting there."

"Bout time you got out of that place. Gives me the dang willies."

---

Chapter 10

"How dare you let him do this!" Vin had left, she had stormed in behind him, followed by Nathan and his bag. The man felt like he was either holding court or waiting for the executioner. He didn't know which he liked least.

They held their discussion while Nathan poked and prodded. "He's old enough to start if he's interested. He wants to try, and I'm not going to tell him no. It's still stiff, Nathan... I've started working to limber it up, but that don't mean it's ready to bend backwards. Vin won't let him get hurt. I won't let him get hurt either--"

"And how will you stop it! You can't. You can't tell me you can keep him safe when you can't keep yourself from being hurt."

"Look, he's gonna work with Vin on computer stuff... not on the street."

"Chris, lay down over here. I need to check that leg some more."

"And when he wants to learn about the street, what then?"

"Then, if he's old enough and proves he can do good work, I might consider taking him on a case... Doc, you touch me with that needle and I'm gonna... Look, before he even thinks about taking it up full-time, he'll have to do a lot of training, and the group will have to vote. Vin's not to happy with it as it stands."

In anger, she punched him, not very hard, but squarely on the burned area of his right arm. "But you'll just be a proud papa and push it through, and you'll just get him killed."

"OUCH!"

"My nurses don't go around swatting on the patients. Could you both, please, just calm down? Let me see that arm, Chris."

"I didn't think we hit each other in this family, either!" But, he reached out and pulled her to him, knowing too well her deep-seated fear. "We can't keep him tied down. He's growing up fast. I hope this is just a phase... that he's just curious. But I refuse to be ashamed of what I do, and, at least for now, he seems interested. He's got a great mind... you know... he's strong, and he can figure things out. Could be this is where he's meant to be."

"He can write, he likes music, he can do anything he puts his mind to. Why does it have to be this he's interested in?"

"I'm afraid it's because I've let him down."

She looked at him, seeing a sadness just behind his eyes. "You haven't ever let him down."

"I denied him... denied him my name. He's hurting because of it. While I was in the hospital, he wanted me to let him change his name."

"He finally asked you?"

"While I was in the hospital. I told him he'd have to wait until he knew more about what I do, what we all do for a living. Now, he's determined to know. I'm afraid he's seen me get hurt and get back up too much to convince him that the work can be really dangerous."

"So you think that's what's driving this?"

"I expect it is. He wants his birthright, and I can't... I won't... deny him again."

"It's just you and your ego! That's all this is!"

"No ego... I don't matter in this."

She knew he was telling the truth. "Then exactly what is it?"

"Pride, and trust in our son. I have to let him try." She rested her head on his shoulder, but he knew it wasn't the end of the discussion.

"Mom, Dad. We can hear you in the galley! You're not fighting because of me are you?" At least they were hugging each other. Nathan didn't seem bothered.

"No... no... we're just discussing some things."

"Tone it down. It's embarrassing."

"We'll discuss causes for embarrassment later. You get with Ezra?"

"Yeah. Mine's done. We've been waiting for you. Let's see what your woman looks like?"

"Your WOMAN?" Her head snapped back from his shoulder.

"Yeah, Mom... Dad's dreams are about a WOMAN!"

"Remind me to kill Buck! Now, Terry, you're going to be rational about this, aren't you?"

"Who is she? How do you know her? DO I KNOW HER?"

"I don't know! That's what we're trying to find out."

"I saw her!" He was going to have to teach the kid about being a blabbermouth; he was digging a deep pit for his father..

"You did. Well, tell me about her... all about her." She led her son across to the work table in Chris's room, ready to listen to the whole story."

"We don't even know they're the same woman!" Chris hated himself. Like son, like father.

"TWO WOMEN?"

"I didn't know about the second one... Dad just said he had a feeling the last one was dangerous."

She was instantly quiet. "Just humor you?"

"For a little while?"

"For a very short while, Mr. Larabee... and you better remember every detail."

"I've got to get with Ezra about the sketch." It was a fair retreat, but not a great one.

First one in, last one out. That was generally just like Josiah, but he wouldn't be the last this time. When Ezra finished with the computer enhanced composites, they all gathered around a conference table downstairs in the main office. At a glance, the two faces looked very similar. But looked at straight on, the similarities faded to nothing.

Adam's woman, Ms. Pettijohn's sister, had a more angular face. There was a difference in demeanor. The sister had a slightly sour look and a ramrod-stiff bearing. Chris's ghost had a brazen smile and held her head cocked to one side, with eyes that could bore into a man's soul. Looking at them, Chris decided he liked the ghost a great deal better. Looking at the live one, he felt his blood turn to ice.

"Okay, Vin, Adam, you two find out all you can about the live one. Josiah, you willing to head to the boundary with me tomorrow?"

"You can't go tomorrow."

"Nathan... I am going. Only thing you can do to change the situation is to come with us."

"Muleheaded!"

"Dad, you said you were going to take Mom and me."

"I was... but I've changed my mind."

"Do a lot of that don't you?"

"When it's a good thing to do. Terry..."

"I know... work. I don't think you're strong enough for the trip yet, but if Josiah's along, he'll drive, and you shouldn't get too tired."

"I'll play my CD for him. Put him to sleep last time."

"You said I could come."

"Kid's asked to work for me one day, and he wants the day off."

"He'll make up for it, Vin. I promise. You can go. Buck, you got time to go along?"

"Always ready to ride."

"What time should my jeep be ready to roll?"

"Say four in the morning?"

"Four?"

"Get up, be ready, or get left behind and work for Vin. Suite yourself. The jeep is moving out whether you're in it or not."

---

Chapter 11

The boy slept in one corner of the rear seat. Buck snored softly in the other. Chris never slept on the way to any place of interest, and the preacher was an habitual early riser, and he was driving. The two in the front talked as quietly as they could above the wind that whistled past the jeep's speeding tires.

"You got any idea what would have stirred all this up?"

"Been thinking about it. Took the liberty of calling Sybil Bird."

"Birdbrain?"

"People say worse about you."

"Don't remind me. Well, what pearls of psychic wisdom did she dispense this time."

"Asked if you got hit on the head any time around when these started. Told her about the stalker case."

"But nothing happened then."

"Don't you remember what happened?"

"What?"

"You couldn't work for a little awhile. You were driving all the saints crazy. I was coming up here; Terry asked me to bring you along with me that trip... was the first time we came to the boundary together, more important it was the first time you met Bill."

"I never knew Terry put you up to it, but, yeah. That's right. I'd been coming up to this area for years before that trip. What of it?"

"We were in his library and you got your first feeling. Remember?"

"No."

"Whole house is a big book cellar, but you were in that cramped little room, up on the second floor, and you told me that picture you were holding made you happy, scared, angry, and terribly sad all at the same time. I could tell that was true, but you didn't have any clue why."

"I don't remember a picture."

"Think. Picture was of a pretty, dark headed woman with her arm around a little boy that was sitting in her lap. They were smiling at someone, but you could tell it wasn't at the photographer. A beautiful picture... a very, very old picture. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah. Seems I do remember, but what's it got to do with anything?"

"When we got in the truck to come home, you had one hell of a headache, out of the blue. Lasted all the way back to Phoenix. Thought you might leave me there for a second or two."

"Just a headache, Josiah... a damn miserable headache, but a headache."

"You ever had one like that one before then? Bird says that headache could have been someone's first attempt at contact. You've been having your feelings ever since then."

"Ah, hell, Josiah."

"Didn't say it was true. Just telling you what Bird had to say. Says the blow from that stalker could have made you a little sensitive. Says the impact of the bomb may have really opened up channels."

"If we're gonna talk this nonsense for the next four hours, I'm taking a nap."

"Fine by me... But tell me something. What got you interested in the boundary area in the first place?"

"My family comes from around there. Just a hobby of mine."

"The Larabee line?"

"Yeah? And..."

"How much you found out?"

"Not much. Mostly just family tree. Seems the line may go back about six or seven generations from Adam before it gets to the big line. Earliest I've heard of was my great, great, great... see that's three... yeah, my number three great-grandfather."

"What do you know about him."

"His name was Chris, John Christopher Larabee."

"Just like you! Well, I'll be snookered. But you're not a third, or fourth, are you?"

He grinned a wicked little grin. "No. Seems about that time the name went sort of left handed. Larabee line came through a man named Franklin John Larabee, Sr., my fourth great-grandfather, and seems to have gone on through an older son named Mitch. John Christopher Larabee supposedly died without leaving a legitimate heir. You know what that sort of makes my second great-grandfather."

"You mean our family branch comes from a bastard?"

"Well, I'll be, Stud! Mine does too! And they came from around here somewhere, too."

"How long you two been listening? It isn't that unusual, you know. That would be at least seven generations back for you, Adam, counting me. Doesn't mean anything now. Whoever your fourth great-grandfather was, he must have been some sort of a mean son-of-a-bit... uh... gun."

"Why?"

"Bill says he was a gunslinger."

"Mighty interesting. Never heard of him. Most have not have been a real successful desperado. What else do you know about him?" Buck was getting interested.

"Meeting Bill was the opening of the doors to the family tree. Since Josiah introduced him to me, I've been back over the years to look at what he's found. Mostly just a few newspaper articles, few photographs, couple of letters is all... oldest article is from a little dried up place called Four Corners. First time the original Chris was mentioned, the writer says something about him making the streets run red with blood."

"Can we see it?"

"Adam, we'll see what there is to see. Town don't exist any more, hasn't for a long, long time. Bill's been searching the area for leads all these years. I guess I'm his one living prospect. I told him back then not to expect any money out of me... said he don't want any. Looks like the hunt's what he's after."

"Bill don't need the money."

"Don't look like he's got so much lying around, Josiah."

"He uses the name Bonney for a hoot, but he ain't kin to Billy the Kid. His bunch traces to one of the original Cowboys. Guy sometimes rode with Ike Clanton's bunch. Bill says he was either smart enough or fast enough to get out alive, but not lucky enough to last much longer. I guess he's the only person living who knows what his family name really is."

"Thought they were all hunted down and killed."

"Couple of the Cowboys disappeared, and took a nice cache of money with them. He's not a millionaire, but he's comfortable."

"But, Stud, what made you want to come back at this little point in time?"

"Just a feeling..."

"Aw, hell, Chris. You got more feelings than a giant squishy squid."

"Not that kind. Got a call from Bill about two weeks ago, before I met that last little problem. He said he had found some things I might be interested in seeing. Said not to rush, he was checking out some of the stuff, but when I got ready he'd be there. Well, I just sort of felt like it was time to come."

"So you left Vin to find a live woman who scared you out of your wits to come look up somebody who's been dead more than a hundred years. Seems like a real sensible plan to me."

"She's got him spooked, Buck." The preacher raised his eyebrows and spoke in mock-confidence to the man. He kept one eye on the generally repentant sinner in the seat next to him. That one often had to seek forgiveness for lost of temper with his friends.

"Who's got him spooked?"

"The ghost."

"I suggest you drop that topic, and now!" They could see that the tips of his ears were beginning to redden, but he wouldn't blow for awhile.

"You know it's the truth. The woman at the hospital is after you for some reason that's got a fact connected to it... we may not know the fact, but it's her fact. The ghost... she's got a fact out there too... and you've got a feeling the two facts are connected. Now tell us, that's what this is about isn't it... tell the truth."

"Ah, hell!"

"Hey, Dad, this is way cool."

---

Chapter 12

"Family name... that's it! Vin Tanner, you old dog, you have NOT lost your touch." Adam hadn't been right. Vin would be sure to include wasted time due to poor communication and the verification of details in the boy's punishment... ah... work assignments. He had said they were sisters. They were in fact sisters-in-law, maybe twice former sisters-in-law... now four, no five, marriages apart. They were a truly looney bunch. Their lives were fairly easy to follow, if you knew how.

Ms. Pepperjohn was Patsy Landry-Coffey-Boyd-Pepperjohn, born thirty-four years ago in Eagle Bend, New Mexico. The woman at the hospital, age twenty-nine, was Cynthia Hicks- Boyd-Landry- Coffey. The women's friendship had lasted longer than all of their marriages put together. Ms. Pepperjohn had avoided doing time; Ms. Coffey had been a one-time loser, back when her last name was Landry. Nobody had checked a substitute's background that close. Dang, she would have probably sued them if they had.

Cynthia's marriage to Patsy's brother Earl had been high on octane, short on brains. Earl had only two true talents... he was a car stealing fool, and he knew how to make a very efficient bomb. He could hot-wire any car, truck, or van, day or night, and from all accounts his work with explosives was a piece of art. He seemed to enjoy the unusual twist that caught his victims off guard and unprepared, and nobody had been able to connect him directly to the thefts or the bombs until Chris got in the middle of it.

Vin remembered his name well, once he got to the connection. Earl messed up when he picked on Colonel Fred Montrose, the Dealingest Van Dealer in the Four State Area. Earl had stolen six from the Colonel's four lots, three brand new, three premium repeat sellers. Earl just got cocky... he tried for a third one from the same lot in one month.

Chris Larabee had been waiting, counting on Earl's ego to spring the trap. Earl liked to shop on Friday nights. Their fight became something to remember when Landry, under the bright white lights on the van lot, jabbed the sharp end of a tire tool into Chris's thigh, but Chris stood up, pulled the object free, and returned the favor. Then he had pulled it free again and gently bashed the perp over the head. Courtesy of an early CB call from a faithful viewer, the station truck being close to the lot, the amount of bright red blood on them both, and on the light-bathed pavement, plus the lack of major action stories, they were all on the late-night news. It didn't hurt business any that Chris won the fight, if you could count seventy stitches as a win. Later he lost a little of the law suit... it took a hundred and twenty stitches to patch up Earl, who sued Chris for the injuries he sustained. The jury, made up of two military types and four older women who all thought Chris looked like their own good boys, awarded Earl fifty dollars just to acknowledge that Chris did threw the first punch, but they made Earl pay his own court costs. All said, Earl lost money on the deal. Chris's vindication was sweet. The charges on seven counts of grand theft auto stuck, but the charge for having bomb making components got thrown out on a technicality. Earl was sent to serve the better part of twenty-five years in the state prison right there in Phoenix..

"Must be a record." Vin was proud of himself. It had taken him less than twenty-four hours from sketch to identification. He'd even had one little nap, and he hadn't left the building. "Now let's see what that old bomb-making, van-stealer's been up to since we last saw him." He pulled out his cell phone and pushed code one. "Hey, Chris! Got her! Guess who the woman at the desk was married to!"

"Great! You got her?"

"Yeah, I got her... well, I got her, now I'll go get her."

"You ain't got her... you ain't got her... You and Ezra get after it. GO!"

"They got the ghost's twin?"

"Shut up, Josiah."

"If I got to shut up, I got to have my music. Think I've got one you'll like."

"Suite yourself."

I'm a whisper of smoke... all that's left of two hearts on fire... that once burned out of control... you took my body and soul... I'm just a ghost ...

"Shut that dam... darn thing off!"

"It's your love song... thought you'd enjoy it."

"It isn't my love song. It doesn't mean anything to me. I wish you'd all just stop trying to get a laugh out of this."

"Easy, cowboy."

"Buck, I've told you I've hated being called that all my life."

"And why's that, Stud?"

"I don't know. Word just puts my teeth on edge. I just have a ... bad feeling every time somebody calls me that!"

"So... these feelings of yours... they go that far back, now do they?"

"Would everyone please just shut up and stay out of my business!"

"Thought we were all here on your business, Chris. You want our help or not?"

---

Chapter 13

"Howdy, Josiah, Chris... glad to see you made it. Larabee, you plumb look like a full-timer from Hell." Bill met them on the big gravel driveway that circled in front of the two-and-a-half story house in the area of deserted countryside that sat at the boundary point of four states... Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, and Utah. It was the only place in the country where four states met exactly at the corner. Bill's property sat as close as any to the exact boundaries, with the federal historic marker just down the road. People referred to it as Four Corners, but the town that had born the name had disappeared long ago.

"Feel about the same. You any different?"

"Naw. Who're the newcomers?"

"Young one's my son, Adam. Oldster is my partner Buck."

"How many partners you got anyway? You trust em? That one looks plum ornery to me. Hey, I mean to tell you I found you something GOOD this time!"

"Well, lead us to it... but first, before I try to climb those stairs on my bad leg... you got any of your remedy?"

"I got remedy if you got candy, little boy." Bill could make him grin like a fool.

"Pay the man, Adam."

"Can I have a taste, Dad?"

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen... and a half?"

"Sixteen AND a half... no, don't think you're ready yet."

"Don't worry, Kid... just stick with me. Old Buck's got his ways."

"Let's put it this way, Buck, I smell Bill's remedy on my son's breath, I'll..."

"We gonna fight or we gonna look at the GOOD stuff." Bill led the way inside. When they all had their libations in hand, he escorted them to a open room at the back of the first floor. There, on a huge round oak table, sat a box that had once held a lady's wide-brimmed hat. It had obviously come from somewhere under the earth, but had survived in tact... black ribbon tie still attached. "I ain't traced this stuff yet, but I've started thinking about things that might match from the room upstairs. But, just you look here... this you're gonna love."

He raised the lid of the box and displayed the treasure trove. Papers, folded articles, small envelopes, little boxes, every type of thing to temp the imagination. Where to begin.

"You sure all this stuff's related to me?"

"Best I can tell... but we'll get to some serious comparisons while you're here."

"Where'd you find this stuff."

"My family's owned this ranch since the 1890's, around in there. Was real run-down when we got it. It was owned by something called the Culpepper Mining Company, but the owners had left it vacant for years. It went for back taxes. There was an old bunkhouse out across the front yard, singed real bad from a fire. There was a hidden cellar under it. When I finally got someone to help me pull down the last of the old wood framing, I found that cellar. Couple of weeks ago I found this box buried way down inside it. This house was singed too, on the other side. That's the side away from that little room upstairs. Nothing in that room was touched... least according to my family's legends... but they've been know to brush up the legends just a bit... but look here... it's a deed to the property and the deed to the Mining Company. It's been in this box all the time."

"You ever heard of it?"

"Nope. But this isn't the real kicker. Come on Larabee, let's go upstairs."

The two moved together to the central hall stairs and up the elegant stairway to the second floor. At the top, to the left, they came upon the closet Chris remembered. As they entered, it appeared as if nothing had moved in the ten years since he had first entered. Bill pushed aside a book and reached out to take the old picture Josiah had remembered from it's place on the mirror of an old dressing table that was stored in the room. He handed it to Chris, who took it reverently... remembering the strange affect it had had on him before.

"Here, bring these too." Bill handed him an envelope, containing several other pictures that had been tucked into a table drawer. "Bring em... let's go back downstairs... come back up here later if you want."

---

"This is the one we found a long time ago. Woman, child... looking at somebody..." Josiah leaned closer to look at the faces. "You sure you don't know either of them?"

"Nope. No notes anywhere on the place to tell us who they are."

"I found this up in the room. It's a newspaper clipping from way back... in a paper from some place called Eagle Bend. It's so faint now, I can't much make it out. Give it to Adam... young eyes might see better than mine."

"You wanted to know more about what this place was like back then... maybe this will show you something. Treat it real gentle. Paper that old will fall apart real easy." Adam swiftly claimed the square of paper from his father's hand. Nothing could be made out from the side facing him. "There's nothing here."

"Don't give up too quick, boy. Like your dad with that old article about the first Chris, anything you hunt for is worth more than a quick look. Why don't you take it over there by the window, and see if you can maybe find something to help us."

"Chris... Get over here!"

"What is it, Buck?"

"I'll be damned ... I think it's YOU!"

"What!" The group gathered around the man... peering intently at a small gold locket that lay open in his hand."

"Where's that from?"

"It was in the box... wrapped in this..." Buck held out a small white box, lined with a piece of velvet."

"It can't be me."

"Damn, Chris. If it ain't you, you've got a twin."

"Not a twin," Josiah answered quietly, "a number three great-grandfather. You're looking at the first John Christopher Larabee."

"Except for the old duds, you'd never believe it was anybody but you. I knew this stuff was gonna be GOOD."

"Any more with him in it? Find the photographs... get them all out." Chris began to concentrate on the items still enclosed in the box.

"It's turned inside!"

"What?"

"This paper's got print inside... it's been turned inside all this time. See... come look, Dad... see... help me get it open!"

"All right... easy... do it slow or it'll tear, or even disintegrate."

The tattered old newsprint gave its contents grudgingly, but after some patience and perseverance, what was left of the headline from the Eagle Bend News became clear. It read MURDER: Chris Larabee's Wife and Son Slain.

Without looking at anything else, Chris Larabee understood. "They were his wife and son."

"Who?"

"Woman and child in the first picture."

"And just how do you know that?"

"I just know."

"Read the rest of it."

"Buck, you boys read it... I'm going for a walk."

"Come on! You can't dodge this bullet, Stud."

"Look, Buck, don't call me that... at least not now." He walked away, leaving them behind... wanting to be alone. In his distraction, his steps carried him up the stairs again to the little room on the second floor. He pushed open the door and turned on the dim light in the ceiling. Why was this place so familiar? Sure, he had been here. But why did it have such a strong pull... and a not pleasant pull. He touched items on the dresser, rummaging through the unopened drawers. His hand was seemingly drawn to an old straight razor with a plain metal handle. It seemed he could feel the glide of the blade across his face.

As he looked, his attention was drawn to the drawer he and Bill had opened before. Stuck in the opening was the corner of yet another photograph. He worked it free carefully, and drew it out into the light.

He stood there again... him... but not himself. The man that wasn't himself was dressed in a smartly tailored tuxedo... the same one that even now hung to the side of the room. It was dusty, but it had been well preserved, carefully wrapped... long tail coat, stiff white shirt... in the photo fitted to perfection. But the woman who stood by his side in the picture was not his wife. She had never been the first Chris's wife. What she was was the ghost. "How do I know this... why do I know this? Who are you?"

While he spoke to himself and the picture, he got a different answer. "You came back to me, Chris."

"Who are you?" He thought he yelled it as he spun toward her, but if he did, it must have been all in his head, just like she was. Or was she? Why was she connecting to him?

"Forgive me?"

Without another word, he knew her name. His lips shaped the name as his mind spoke it to himself. "Ella?"

"You DO remember me."

"But I'm not that man. I can't be remembering you!"

"Waited so long for you... so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" What did she have to be sorry for?

"Your family: Sarah, Adam; my husband, Joseph... killed them, hurt you... my baby..."

"Your baby? I wasn't ever your baby... what are you talking about?"

Tears seemed to run down her shadowy cheeks. She stepped closer. "Won't you ever come back to me?... I was yours... you were mine."

"I wasn't ever yours. My wife's name is Terry... not Sarah. My son is Adam, okay, but he's not your baby... he's Terry's baby.""

She sobbed... a heart that must have been broken forever. "I did it all for you."..

"Just stop! You didn't do anything for me... especially anything like that!" The sudden anger and utter madness he felt consumed every part of his being. There was suddenly no thought for the headache at all... just a blind, visceral hate. One single word kept echoing through his mind, BITCH!

She vanished.

He came downstairs, confused and caught up in anger. "It's like I've been fighting this for over a hundred years! It just doesn't make sense.."

"Have a nip of my remedy. What happened up there?"

"She happened... that lousy bitch is back! Now she's here."

"Whoa. What's made you so definite all of a sudden about her lack of character?"

"Buck, she killed them."

"Who?"

"My wife and son. Sarah and Adam."

"Wait just a minute, Stud. Your wife ain't ever been Sarah, and nobody's killed anybody, least of all not today. Adam's right over there. You doing all right?"

"She killed her husband, too."

"Who was her husband? You sure you're all right?"

"Joseph Petry."

---

Chapter 14

"I don't have a clue what's driving all this, I don't have any idea why this is happening to me, or why it's happening now, but I've had enough for today. Look, let's just go get a bite to eat and get us a place to spend the night. We'll come back tomorrow for some more. That okay with you, Bill?"

"Sure, I'm always here. I'll leave everything right where it's at so we don't have to start over. Best place to eat's at the Wagon Wheel down the highway, but you know about that. You can put up at the Days End."

"You coming?"

"Nope. Just gonna grab a snack and a jawbreaker, call it a night myself. See you fellas bright and early, now."

They walked out the door, into the dwindling daylight.

"Hey, Dad! Do you think you just might be John Christopher Larabee?"

"No. I'm one John Christopher Larabee, but I'm not the John Christopher Larabee you're talking about. I may be pushing forty--"

"Pushing or pulling?" Buck snickered.

"Buck, shut up. I may be pushing forty, but I hope I don't begin to look like I'm more than a hundred-twenty."

"But maybe you are him, reincarnated, brought back to meet your long-lost love."

"Shoot." He suddenly laughed. "Long-lost love? That bitch? In a pig's eye. Son, you've just been going to too many of those crazy movies lately, and listening to Josiah too much. I don't think you ought to be going to any more of those scary ones right now."

"But there's a new one coming..."

"Yeah... what was that you were talking about? Cherry Falls? Well, I think you ought to stay away from stuff like that. Who was that guy you said was gonna be in it?"

"Names Beans, or something like that. I know I've seen him before, liked him, too, but I can't remember what show."

"Well, I don't think you need to be going to any of those. And like I say, quit listening to Josiah, and Bird, and all this fool nonsense about reincarnation. Once through this living stuff is hard enough."

"It's not about ghosts or reincarnation, Dad. It's about young, nubile, women." The grin he gave them might have come from Buck, or Chris, at an earlier age. "I thought you and Buck just might go with me. Josiah, you can come too, if you're not afraid the congregation will see you. You know, get me in... its NC-17."

"And exactly what will your Mom be doing while we're all off seeing this fine, educational film?" His father's smile was lightly mocking, the grin infectious.

"Well, thought we'd take J.D. with us. By the time it comes out, he should be ready. We'll leave Mom with Casey watching the baby. She's a sucker for babies. Is that a plan or is it a plan?"

"Not a bad plan... just might work. Boys night out! We'll have to see. Just how old are these nubile young women?"

"Supposed to be real young. Supposed to be high school. Probably about twenty-six." The grin mirrored it's father.

"A little young for my tastes at any rate. Well, you'll have to definitely be along... you wouldn't want Buck and me to get the reputation for being dirty old perverts. No, come to think of it... Buck's already got that reputation."

"Now you just wait a minute, Stud--"

"Hey, Dad. " He was almost seventeen, and he was in great spirits... he felt he belonged with this bunch... now and for years to come. He was simply reaching for the door of Josiah's jeep when the first shot rang out.

Chris slammed him into the gravel and behind a tire. "Buck, you see anything?" The rifle spoke again, and then again.

"Came from across the road, Chris. Think from up on that rise You stay here, I'll check it."

The preacher didn't hesitate. He was clergy, yes, but he was also a former officer with the Arizona Criminal Investigations unit. He pulled a shotgun from the rear of the jeep. "I've got Buck's back. Chris, you stay with Adam. Chris? Adam? Buck, get back here!"

---

Chapter 15

"Damn, Dad. Does it always hurt like this?" In the middle of this group of men, the ones he thought of as friends and as close to heroes as he would ever come, he'd be damned if he was going to let himself carry on like a baby. After all, this was what his dad called only a scratch.

"Sometimes lots worse. Your lucky. Won't even need stitching." Buck knew it hurt, but he also knew the boy was trying to be a man, so he kept it matter of fact.

Even Josiah recognized the boy's need. "Son, you're going to be just fine. Now, your Dad's got one in his shoulder... that'll take a little digging. Probably put him out a while so they can get at it."

Adam winced at the thought. "Won't that make you sick again?"

His father was slightly woozie from a shot the attending had already given him to ward off infection. "It's not bad... not even that deep. Look, Adam's right... don't let him put me out... just numb it real good. If he puts me out with the wrong stuff, I will be sick. Soon as he's through, let's try to get something to eat again... I'm starving."

"I want to see Chris Larabee and Adam Horton and I want to see them NOW!" She was coming in the door of the little clinic at Teec Nos Pos, Arizona. The town was tiny; the clinic tinier still. But the medic on hand seemed to know his business. Chris, Adam, Buck and Josiah were all crowded in a tiny cubicle, drape drawn, at the end of a stubby corridor. Four strong, capable men. They were men who could seemingly take on the world. They could look at the blood, anticipate the pain, and still discuss plans for dinner... and they every one froze when they heard her voice.

"Doctor, you can just leave them to me. I am a fully licensed emergency room technician and a registered nurse practitioner. I'm their caregiver, and I'll see to what they need. If you want to confirm my credentials, just call Nathan Jackson, head surgeon at Phoenix Memorial Care Hospital. If either of them give me any trouble, you'll be the first to know."

"Who called her? Did somebody die here? Josiah!" Chris literally cursed. He knew it had truly hit the fan this time.

"Geez, Josiah! You called Mom? She'll make me go home!"

"Afraid I pushed the panic button. You looked pretty bad, Adam was bleeding too. Couldn't tell how serious. Thought she ought to know." For such a big man, one friend, and especially that friend's wife, could turn him into a coward amazingly fast.

"How did she get here? Buck, did you do that!?"

"Well, I just called Vin. Vin decided to bring her in the helicopter. He's waiting in the parking lot."

"The big chicken... around hospitals and, now, around her, too. Oh, hell. Is it too late to get us out of here?" Her husband flinched as she snatched open the drapes.

"You are not taking him anywhere. He's coming home with me!"

"No, Dad! Come on, Mom."

"Hey, let's just not have an all out fight right here, right now. Everybody just calm down. Look, Terry, he's fine. I'm fine. It's all a false alarm. These two just panicked."

She studied the bandage on her son's arm. Clean, no blood, neatly done. She took a deep breath of obvious relief. She inspected the cubicle and found it well stocked with what she wanted next. She chose a bottle of strong antiseptic, unwrapped a sterile probe from the table nearby, and walked behind her husband. After she poured a liberal amount of the liquid into the wound, she jabbed the probe none too sympathetically into the opening on his shoulder. She continued to berated him as she dug, "Oh, you look like you're just fine."

"Ouch!" He didn't say anything else as she reached for long metal tweezers, digging inside the wound again until she trapped the bullet and janked it free. "Hell, Terry." He fiercely grasped the side of the table, fingers digging into the padding, as blood gushed from the hole.

"Ugh! That's disgusting, Dad."

"All part of it. God, Terry, what are you doing to me back there?"

She had begun to stitch the wound closed, not bothering with anything to numb the pain. "Macho bull! Don't you make this sound like it's nothing. You know you could both have been killed. You can do exactly what you want to... you can come home or you can just stay here... I don't care what you do... but I'm taking Adam somewhere where he will be safe!" She jabbed him again. The hypodermic was filled with a solution meant to finally help ease the pain.

"Safe? You want safe? Just where in the hell is that going to be? What could have been safer than here? All we were doing was looking at old newspapers and deeds. We had just walked out the door, going to a little twelve-table diner in the middle of nowhere to get a little dinner, get us a little rest. Who knew we were even here? And if it wasn't safe here, what makes you think it's safe in Phoenix? I think they're probably heading back to Phoenix, wait for us there. I think you best get your head on straight and stay here with us."

"You've always got an answer!"

The pain killer finally kicked in, blending wickedly with the mixed antibiotics they had given him before. He was quickly getting very drunk and very sleepy. "And I could... use... your help... Make sure... finish... this shoulder right. Getting just ... little... sleepy... you... take care of..." He slumped over onto the table, breathing softly.

"He's always got an answer."

"Well, he don't ever like to be in a fight where he doesn't know at least one way out." Buck just watched him sleep. He thought it had been a most undignified retreat, but a good one nevertheless.

He never did get his dinner. Chris made up for it over a lumberjack breakfast they fixed in Bill's kitchen. It was there he was alert enough and wary enough to broach his plan... the new one... the one that just might keep her there.

"Look, we need more hands in this. We're all going through that stuff, but nobody's keeping it straight... keeping up with all the details. You could do that."

"Nathan let me off to come see about you. He's got rounds this afternoon."

"Rounds? You saying there's not one person in that whole damn hospital who can fill in for you for a day or two? Now who's being a jackass... uh... workaholic? Come on, stay here. If you stay, Vin and Buck can go investigate the sniper's nest while we stay on the stuff at Bill's. Look, I was fooling around about you staying last night, but I'm not now. We need to find out all that's here. If the two women aren't connected, I need to get rid of one of them, and something tells me I'm getting real close to understanding the ghost."

"What do you understand?"

"She thinks I'm my third great-grandfather, the man named Chris". He showed her the photograph of the man who wasn't himself."

"My God... That's you!"

"Not me... my third great grandfather."

"That's the woman in your sketch! Who is she?"

"I don't know who she was. Now, she's just a ghost. I think there was something between them. She's trying to make him love her again. Seems there's something she needs to tell him. Hell, maybe it's that, maybe it's not. I've just got an idea about how to get to the bottom of this one, and it's all got to do with that picture. If you'll stay put, I might just be able to stay long enough to finally understand without you and Adam being in Phoenix alone."

"And what about Adam? He got shot once staying here with you."

"Mom, it's important. If Dad's the reincarnation of my number four great grandfather, this might be our chance to prove it."

"Reincarnated? Have you been filling his head with this?"

"No! I don't think I'm anybody reincarnated, but there's a connection somewhere. Why it's coming to me, I don't know. I just want to get through with it and get it out of my head."

"You're just having a grand ole time with this."

"No. I'm just trying to lose one grand old headache... and I mean the ghost. She goes, my headaches and half my problems go with her.

"Okay, then, where do we start."

"At Bill's."

---

Chapter 16

"Petry?" Bill grabbed the deed from the box and put it in Chris's hand. "The owner of this ranch was Culpepper Mining Company, but the mining company was owned by Joseph Petry. You say the woman in the picture with you... with your great, great, great grandfather... murdered three-G's wife, Sarah; son, Adam; and her own husband... Joseph Petry? Why?"

"I don't know! I don't know!" He rose and left the room, this time heading for the land outside. He walked quietly, trying to think it all through... to think like Chris Larabee of 1880-something, trying to get back to being Chris Larabee of the year 2000. The only way to do it was to face her. "Shoot." He found himself drawn to the old bunkhouse. Just the charred flooring now, nothing else was left standing. It seemed nothing of her life was left standing anymore, nothing except the house... except that little room. He turned around, entered the house, and with determination climbed the stairs to the second floor and that damn little secret-hiding room.

Nothing. Nothing at all. Two hours and not one sound. "Okay, where are you?" Chris stood in the center of the small room, dressed in the old tuxedo. He was amazed at the perfection of the fit. It didn't really surprise him. He had known exactly how it would feel before the fabric ever touched his skin. He fingered the metal straight razor, knowing somehow that she had held it too.

"You're scaring her away. You're too nervous, you're thinking too much."

"Josiah... she said she killed my... his... wife and son and her own husband, too. Doesn't seem a woman like that would be scared of anything, now does it? She wants him... not me... maybe the clothes will pull her to me. Somebody back then kept them."

"Well, if she wants him, you're him all over again in that. Sit down, get quiet... let her come to you. What were you doing when she came last time?"

"Just standing here... holding that picture I found."

"Here it is," the preacher handed it to him. "Every other time, from what you tell me, you've been asleep or real quiet when she showed up. In other words, you need to get quiet... real quiet... right now... then she can get through. Why don't you just sit down there on that chair, just quit thinking about anything, maybe just doze off... see what happens."

"You staying?"

"No. Don't think this is anything that's got room for more than two."

He sat down. His mind didn't want to cooperate, going over and over the headlines, the photographs, the words. He made himself stop, concentrating instead on the two photographs he now held... the one of a woman and her son, the other of a man and the woman who wasn't his wife. He never heard the door open, never knew when someone entered the room behind him.

"I'm sorry... so sorry." Her voice was low and full of sorrow. She was so close to him, he felt her emotions like they were his own..

"Hey, cut it out... your being around hurts me."

She receeded, silently beginning to disappear.

"NO... no... please... don't go... just don't get so close, and don't get so upset. I think that's what it is... look, I won't go anywhere. Tell me what this is about. Who are you? Ella who?"

"Ella Gaines Petry Larabee. Don't you know me, Chris?"

"I don't know you, but obviously my third-great grandfather knew you pretty well." He held up the photographs.

"Then you're not my Chris?"

"No. He's been gone a long, long time. You weren't married to him were you?"

"We should have been married. When we were here, he promised to stay... that we'd be married. But he left me... drove me away. Shouldn't have told him the truth, shouldn't have hired those men, but he found this room. I came back, and I've waited here for you... for my Chris. I thought he had come back. I thought it was finally our time."

"Why's it so important for you to be back at the same time as him?"

"Have to tell him... tell him I'm sorry... tell him about something. I need him to forgive me... then I can rest."

"You say you killed three people. Why would you do something like that?"

"I loved him. He was mine, once. He should have been mine. Joseph was nothing to me... it was the land. I needed the land to bring him back to me."

"Loved? You really loved the first Chris?"

"Yes. He was my first love, and he was my last love too. But he left me. He should have been mine!" Suddenly she was angry, terribly angry... the intensity of her anger threatened to send him back to the floor in agony.

"God, stop it! Back off. You can't change that now... but maybe there's something you can do."

"What?" The emotions cooled.

"Tell me what you would have told him."

"How will that help?"

"Somehow, I think it makes a difference. Maybe he is here... maybe he just can't or probably won't talk with you... maybe just remembering it hurts too much. I don't know anything about this, but if he's listening through me, maybe there's still a chance for you to get through to him. Why don't you tell me what there was between you and what happened."

"We were both so young... lovers in Kansas City. He was such a strong, handsome man... wild, reckless... fighting, always fighting for me. But he left me. He didn't say why, one day he just went. I never did get over him... he was supposed to be mine! Well, he married... damn him... he married that woman Sarah, and she gave him a son. He thought he loved her, but he loved me... he had to love me... he was always meant to be mine. She couldn't have him... I wasn't going to let her... So I hired a man to make sure she didn't keep him... she died in a fire and that boy died with her. I thought he would come back to me then. But he didn't. He just moved on. It took me years to find him, even with him being within a couple of days ride from that little ranch of his.

I found him. It was time for us. It would have been so perfect. He and a bunch of his friends... there were seven of them in all... came here, thinking they were helping me scare off some claim jumpers. Well, they didn't know, but those men worked for me. I just wanted him here so I could prove to him how fine our life could be if he came back to me. It was going so well... I had him... back in my arms, back in my bed, better than Kansas City had ever been. Then that friend of his, that Vin, went and found out I owned the mine and the farm, and that the men worked for me. I could see I had to get rid of all of them if I was going to keep him. But, that man made Chris suspicious... he found my room... this room that held all the treasures that reminded me of our life together and how fine things were going to be. Once he found it... and his wife's locket... I thought he would go insane. And then he found out I was going to kill his friends. Do you know he tried to shoot me? Me? But he couldn't do it... he knew he was bound to me forever.

I had to run. After he left, after that Vin quit coming around, I finally came back. I wrote Chris once, just so he knew I forgave him and that I still wanted him. I even signed it with my married name. He didn't come looking again. Later, I found out I was pregnant... his baby, my baby."

Chris's breath caught in his throat. "So, the baby doesn't refer to Chris... it refers to a child?"

"Our child. Chris's child and mine... our son."

"What happened to your child?"

"I lost him... I lost him... I was alone. Everything was gone. The mine, the horses, I couldn't go on. I had to find a way to care for the boy, but I still needed to look for Chris. Chris should have been mine!"

"What did you do?"

"I gave him to someone near here who would raise him for me... keep him until I could find Chris and put things right. But when I couldn't find Chris, and when I came back, the man had gone. I couldn't find out where he had gone, where he had taken my son."

"What was your son's name?"

"I named him after Chris's father... Chris had told me all about him, about how hard things had gotten between them. I named him Franklin John Larabee."

"That was my second-great-grandfather... same name as the old patriarch."

"Second-great grandfather? Then I'm your great-great-grandmother?" A smile replaced the sorrow she had carried so long. "So something of our love did survive. That is what I've looked for all these years. If I couldn't have Chris, I wanted to find our son."

"Maybe that's the connection. He won't have anything to do with you... you hurt him way too much. I can feel the hate and the torment just thinking about you brings his soul. I've been looking into the past... somewhere I've just made a connection that reaches between the two of you again... the love must have been there, it must have been real and strong. He was just beginning to feel the love for you all over again, but you killed it. You killed the love just as sure as you killed Sarah and Adam, and your husband. I understand him now. Somehow I know exactly what he felt. He must truly have gone nearly insane, finding out that the one woman he had loved, and had begun to love again, had killed the woman he loved most of all. And that you killed his son. He didn't come looking for you again because, if he found you, he would have had to kill you. Killing his wife and killing his son, then plotting to kill his friends too, those were things that Chris Larabee could never forgive. But too much that he loved had died. He just couldn't be the one to end your life. He knew that if he killed you, the thing he would truly kill would be the last bit of his very own sanity and all of his soul. What happened to you?"

"You've seen where I am. I couldn't go on any more. There was nothing left... not Chris, not anything, and my son was gone. I went to the bunkhouse on a beautiful summer morning... a morning like the day Chris left. I went down into the cellar and hid my box, the box with all the important papers in it. I piled things on top of the trap, hoping the memories would survive. I set the fire in the far end of the room, and then I watched it burn. I watched it burn for as long as I could... just to see what it was like. I shouldn't have done that to her or to her child. It was a horrible way to die. What I minded the most was the smoke... but I was prepared to... finish it. I've waited all this time to tell him I'm sorry. What can I do?"

"You can rest, now. It's over. Your son survived, and at least five generations since him have survived. I think there will always be Larabee men... even if you had to borrow the name for us to establish our birthright. And you know what? I think in some way, the John Christopher Larabee that you knew, that you loved and hurt so much, he'll maybe one day forgive you too. You gave him back a son. I don't think he knew that until you touched his soul through me. For that, I'll have to be the one to forgive you."

There was silence in the room. He looked at the photograph. When he looked back, she was gone... but there was something there. Something more.

"Well done, son."

He spun. The man who looked back at him might have been himself. Had he been there in life, he would have been dressed in total black. "You're here, too?"

"Seems like there's lot's of souls around this old place lately that could connect to me and my time."

"So you saw her?"

"Yeah, I saw her. You're right, I don't think I'll ever be able to reach out to her... not in all eternity. But I'm glad you were able to do it for me."

"What happened to you?"

"Now if I were to tell you all that, you'd give up the search. It's been nice to have you come around here now and then. I'm just glad to know there was a son and a namesake. Wish I had known him. Me, I had a good life. Took a good while to get it right. Not anything real fancy, just a life. Those friends of mine, the ones she talked about trying to kill? If she had done it because of me, I would have died along with them. It was us being together that made the difference... in my life, in their lives too. Shoot... people sometimes got to calling us Los Magnificos. Hard to believe that could happen to a bunch of fools like us. Good men... damn good friends. A bunch fit to die for. It was that bunch that kept me sane. They're the one's who gave me a life after Sarah and then gave it back to me again after Ella."

"Why have you been here? Did your life end here too?"

"No... it's her. She's kept me here. Most crazy woman I ever knew. She's kept me coming back here all these years. But it didn't do her one bit of good, I made sure of that."

"Maybe you should have talked with her sooner. If you had talked with her, maybe she wouldn't have had such a hold on you. More than a hundred years is a damn long time to get stuck in one little room."

"I wasn't here all the time. It don't work like that. Just seems everytime I got to doing something else, something kept bringing me back here. You were just the last one. You tied such a damn strong string from me to her that I couldn't break it too much any more. I thought you'd never just finish this. In my day, I'd have kicked your butt."

"Can you make threats like that from where you are? Were you really a gunslinger? Were you a cowboy."

"Way I was then, that's the way I am now. Made it here in spite of the fighting, drinking, carousing. Lived a better life there at the end, but I wasn't no saint. And boy, don't start that gunslinger stuff again... and one more thing, don't you EVER, EVER call me a cowboy!"

"That comes from you?"

"What?."

"All my life I've hated being called a cowboy, and I didn't have any idea why."

"Hated it because of my father. I guess strong hates, and strong sorrows, live on just like old loves do."

"Well, I've got to ask it one more time. What about the gunslinger thing... my boy will want to know."

"Your boy... that one downstairs? Good boy, fine son."

"He is. Gonna be strong... I think he'll be a lot like you. What do I tell him."

"Tell him sometimes the reputation just comes, whether you earn it or not. Once you've got it, most times it stays... whether you deserve it or not. For the rest, he'll just have to find out himself, make his own decisions, live his own life."

"What about you. Are you free now?"

"Expect so. Only the good Lord knows."

"You visit with him a lot?"

"Josiah always told me I needed to keep in touch with my real Boss."

"Josiah? You knew Josiah?"

"Son, that bunch of yours... those downstairs... they're not my friends. They're your friends, but there's a strong connection between your time and mine. You hold on to em, all of em... bring those other two along... they're part of it too. The number seven was always a real strong Larabee number. And another thing... you keep hold of your Sarah."

"Sarah? I don't know anything about Sarah? My wife's Terry."

"Maybe yours... but not mine. Sarah... never was another one for me like her."

"You mean... Terry is Sarah... reincarnated?"

"Don't think so. But even if she ain't... you've sure found yourself a real close match."

"If I come back here, will we be able to visit again?"

"Who knows? If I'm here, we'll visit. But I never was one for sticking in one place too long. Always seemed to be moving west. But son, one thing."

"Yeah?"

"I sense you've got other trouble... trouble with a woman because of a man?"

"Yeah. There's another trouble all right. Nearly got my boy killed yesterday. We haven't been able to figure it all out so far."

"You watch out for that one. It's a trouble that's almost as old as time. Nearly as old as me. You and your boys best take care when you're dealing with a trouble that don't know how to die. Seems about as bad a trouble as was between me and the Norris Brothers... I used to think dying would be worth it if those boys and their kin would just leave me alone. It's like Buck always used to say... you can run, but you can't hide."

"Know what?"

"What?"

"My friend Buck still says that today."

"Not surprised at that one. Not surprised at all. Still like women?"

"Yeah."

"Just goes to show... the world don't never, ever really change. Well... going now. Thanks... and, son... wear your holster high and watch your back."

He was gone. The room seemed so empty. Just a room filled with old photographs and old mementoes... but the voices were silenced. Chris hoped the trouble, at least this one, was silenced forever.

"Chris?" He looked around to find Terry coming out of the shadows.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough. Did I really see what I thought I saw, or did I fall asleep and have one hell of a dream."

"Let's put it this way. When it comes to Chris and Ella, I think we'd best just humor them. If they're not real, I don't want to be the one to tell them."

"Me either. There's one thing for certain, though?"

"What's that?"

"I know where you got some of your very best assets... like your darling green eyes, your thick blond hair, and that extremely nice tush I just love to squeeze."

"Woman, you're talking about a man, a ghost, who's nearly a hundred-fifty years old."

"Oh, no, I'm not." She ran her fingers through his wonderful hair, then kissed him on lips that were always inviting, and then she reached around and grabbed him enthusiastically on two of his fourth-great-grandfather's best legacies. "Are you okay? And Chris, do you think you can keep this tux?"

She had to wait for the answer. He was more interested in returning her kisses for quite a few minutes. "Oh, I'm just fine. Yeah... I don't think Chris would mind about the tux... and I won't mind, so long as Ella doesn't come along with it. There's sure one good thing about old Chris."

"What's that?"

"He seems to be a nice, friendly, contented soul these days, and he doesn't give me a headache."

---

Chapter 17

"She's gone? You really talked with her?" Josiah couldn't wait for the next meeting with Bird. "You think you'll ever have a chance to talk with her again?

"Don't know. She seemed content, at least when she left." They were packing their things into the jeep.

"What did you find out?"

"I'm not her Chris."

"So, what's news about that?" Buck couldn't believe his relatively sane friend was hooked into this.

"She's my third-great-grandmother."

"What!" Josiah and Buck literally squeaked.

"Boy, did I tell you or did I tell you that this trip was gonna be good! You owe me lots of candy, boy... lots of candy... and no dang store bought jaw breakers this time... I want five full pounds of real, mountain made, hand pulled, salt water taffy... made in the Great Smoky Mountains... nowhere else."

"Bill... how am I supposed to find that in the middle of the Arizona desert?"

"Shoot, Dad... internet. I'll see he gets it for you, Bill."

"Shouldn't that be Mr. Bonney?"

"No... the boy and I've got a real good understanding going. He calls me Bill, I tell him my last name... one of these days."

"Well, Bill... we've got more than enough this trip to keep us talking for quite a while. We won't be gone too long, but we've got work to do. Give me a call if anything really good shows up again."

"You got it... and remember... wear your holster high and watch your back."

"What?"

"Just something my uncle used to say."

"Bill... who was your uncle?"

"Now if I were to tell you all that, you'd give up the search. It's been nice to have you come around here now and then."

Chris gave up. One spooky story answered was enough for now. "Come on Terry... let's get out of here."

"I'm flying back with Vin. Nathan's waiting for me."

"Ah, right, Vin. My friend, a word, please?"

"Sure, Chris." They stepped off to the side, leaving Terry waiting impatiently at the helicopter.

"You and Ezra ever get a hold of that woman?"

"Well... no. She wasn't where I thought she'd be."

"How do you know?"

"Well, I called her house, and all I got was an answering machine. Far as I know, she didn't know anybody was on to her... she just wasn't there.

"No... Dang, Vin, she's hunting me. You can bet she's got caller id. Don't you think she knows where I work? If you called her from the office, she probably traced the number back to MAG7. Then, she was watching you, watching Terry. You two probably talked over the phone about where I'd gone... and then she was here. Just cause I left town didn't mean you could let up! Look... you get back there and you FIND her. And until I get there, you better keep an eye on my wife. Anything happens to her..."

"But, she'll be at the hospital!" It was a terrible thing to see a hunter turn into the rabbit.

"And you'll be beside her in every hallway, outside every operating room, follow her everywhere she goes... right?"

"Dang, Chris. How am I supposed to find that woman if I'm babysitting Terry?"

"Let Ezra find the woman. You tell him where to look. He doesn't get out near enough. As for you... you owe me."

"What do I owe you?"

"If it hadn't been for you, that woman wouldn't have wound up here to shoot Adam and me. If she hadn't shot us, or had us shot, Buck wouldn't have called you, and Josiah wouldn't have called and scared Terry half to death. If they hadn't done that, you wouldn't have brought Terry up here and given her the opportunity to personally stitch up my shoulder. Her temper, but MY shoulder... That hurt like hell... no deadening... no dinner... you get my drift. The least you can do is protect her for me for one afternoon, even if it means you've got to smell hospital to do it."

"Dang, Chris. You know hospital smells make me puke."

"Well, guess what... you aren't the first. Suck it up, Tanner... and you better do it. Now, she's got work to do... you two best git."

As he watched them fly away, Josiah came to his side, "Come on, Chris... we best do the same thing. You back seat or shotgun?"

"Shotgun! Can't sleep in the back."

"You gonna sleep... thought you'd fill us in about that little room upstairs and your new friends."

"Dang, Josiah... all it seems like I've done is talk for days. I want a good, long nap."

"You gonna nap, then I need my music."

"Play it then."

"You don't mind?"

"Hasn't got anything to do with me. Least not anymore."

---

Chapter 18

One day later, Chris Larabee, the one firmly rooted in the year 2000, stood in the middle of his office, glaring at Ezra. He was angry... well, maybe not angry, just highly irritated, and his shoulder had reached the stage where it itched... all the time. Of course the nicely healing wound was just out of reach of a very soothing scratch. They had tried... it wasn't their fault she wasn't around. But how did two trained agents like Vin and Ezra manage to lose Cynthia for three whole days.

"Ezra, look, I just want this over. Why would they be after me now? Earl went to prison ten years ago. Why now?"

"He went to prison ten years ago, but he died four months ago."

"What?!"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you Vin found out Earl Landry died four months ago?"

"Ezra, I'm gonna have to hurt you one of these days. And Vin didn't say anything either."

"Seems he got pancreatic cancer. Didn't last long."

"Wouldn't wish that on a dog."

"Neither would Cynthia Coffee or Patsy Pepperjohn, and they all probably decided you were to blame."

"I might can hurt people in a lot of ways, but since when am I responsible for cancer?"

"You put him in the state pen. They probably figure if he wasn't there, he wouldn't have gotten it."

"That doesn't make sense Ezra."

"My intellectual friend, you are attempting to put solid logic into two crazy women's minds. A fully functioning woman's mind often goes slightly sideways, even on a good day. A woman who's crazy to begin with... not even I would like to try to make sense of one of them, much less two."

"What makes you think they're crazy? They just loved Earl. No accounting for taste, but that alone doesn't make them loco."

"But they built those last two bombs."

"What?!"

"Didn't I tell you? Buck finally got permission to work on the cars yesterday. He found what was left of two lipstick cases in what was left of your car, and another one in J.D.'s. He says unless you boys have taken up some sissy ways that he doesn't know about, somebody used them to help build the bombs. And before you ask me how or for what... I don't have even an abysmally small clue. I recommend strongly that you ask Buck."

"Ezra... I'm definitely gonna have to hurt you. How would they know how to build a bomb?"

"Well, Patsy's seemed to have a knack for that sort of endeavor since she and Earl were kids. It appears they used to play with that kind of stuff... blew up stumps on their pa's dirt farm or some such, just for fun."

"Jesus! What about Cynthia? She just being helpful?"

"No... that just might be what made those two women such good friends... got close while they were reminiscing about the good old days of high explosives. And to make things worse, Cynthia was connected to a real loon named Boyd for a time. His talent with explosives made Earl look like a beginner. People out in the area where he was were glad he's not around anymore, but somebody said they hoped she stayed gone just about as much. Said all kinds of strange things happened when Ms. Cynthia got really ticked at something."

"Any chance she's gone back to Boyd?"

"People wouldn't mind if she had, but it seems our Mr. Boyd wasn't nearly as talented as people thought. He managed to blow himself up a few years back."

"Ezra..."

"I'll get to it... it'll all come out eventually... just give me time."

"Do you have any idea where Patsy's gone to? Is she still around?"

"No."

"Well, where the hell is SHE?"

"She was at school the day before you went up to see that hermit. Wasn't there the two days you were gone, hasn't been there since."

"And are they both, just by any stretch, real sharp shooters?"

"Now that you mention it... Vin says they're NRA Rifle and Pistol Champions. Both of them."

"Anybody think about making a just a little connection there? Maybe letting me in on this?"

"Terry said to let it alone. Said you'd been shot once."

"SINCE WHEN does my wife give orders here. She gives orders at that hospital, but not here... not when she's trying to just protect me from something, and her protecting me just might get us ALL killed. Let me be gone for two little days, this place goes slam to hell. And another thing, nobody's said one word about J.D., Casey, or the baby. Is everything okay about them?"

"Casey and the baby went home... both fine as can be. J.D.'s scheduled to go home real soon."

"Has anybody figured out why they went for J.D. to begin with?"

"No... just doesn't seem to be any connection there."

"Well, has anybody thought about security around him?"

"No. Only one they've been shooting at lately is you, and of course, Adam."

"Adam? You think they were shooting at Adam on purpose... not just hit him while they were trying for me?"

"He wasn't near you, according to Buck and Josiah... was a good distance away. If they're marksmen, markswomen... oh, hell... sharpshooters, they shouldn't have made that big a mistake."

"Where's Buck? Where's Vin?"

"Buck is upstairs in the cave. Vin's at the hospital... he's been grumpy as a mountain lion since you made him stay at the hospital the last few days."

"Now I'm not feeling so guilty that I did. You get Buck down here. I'll get in touch with Vin. While you're at it, see if Josiah will come. Get them all Ezra, now!"

"You care to explain..."

"NOW!"

"Vin, just stay there! I'll call back when the others are set. Just don't let her out of your sight... get her and move her in with J.D. so you can watch them both... Don't argue with me, Vin.. No I'm not sure of anything... JUST HUMOR ME!" The connection broke with no sign off. Vin had gone back to work.

"Leaving him there, huh? You must be purely ticked at him to leave him in a dang hospital this long!"

"Shut up, Buck. Look, Adam's in trouble." He was pacing the room.

"What?"

"Adam's in trouble. He's at school. There's nobody around him. Why didn't you or Josiah say something about how far away from me he was standing when the bullet hit. I was just talking with him, I wasn't paying attention. If he gets hurt..."

"What's stirred this up? Both those women have headed out for parts unknown by now."

"I don't think so."

"What?"

"I think they're after Adam, then me... I don't think J.D.'s the target anymore."

"Why?"

"She didn't know about Adam. There was no connection."

"Would you stop and at least try to make sense."

"Pepperjohn didn't know I had a son. She just picked the youngest one that had any meaning for me... that was J.D., the youngest partner. But that secretary said Adam's name out loud in Pepperjohn's classroom when Terry called him. She found out about Terry at the same time. Up until then, they didn't even know I had a wife, much less a son. That's when she found out there were better targets."

"Damn, Chris. Terry..."

"She's safe for now... Vin's got her and J.D., too for now. I need you to go get Adam... bring him here. I'll get Josiah to pick him up here, then take them to the hospital where he can help guard the bunch. Ezra can take over for Vin. I'll get Casey and the baby to the hospital, just in case they really are set on getting to J.D. Then you, and Vin, and I will team up, cause the three of us are going hunting."

"Are you sure about all this?"

"Buck... JUST..."

"Right. Well, then, let's ride."

---

Chapter 19

Nothing. Three days they hunted; three days they waited. Three days he ran them all crazy with just humor me. The phrase was't remotely funny anymore. None of the targets would stand being guarded, held hostage to Chris's unreasonable fears. None of the other protectors were willing to hold them hostage either.

On the afternoon of day three, Terry led her own rebellion. "Casey and the baby need to be home. J.D. can't leave because of you. Adam's missing school, and Nathan's making strong rumblings about the security of my job. It's all because of you and a thought that ran through your head, and I'm not willing to put up with this anymore. Ever since you came back you've been acting crazy... not nuts... just plain crazy. You just need to take time off, get over what's gone on... Being shot, seeing Adam shot, having those strange dreams you've been having... you'll be fine, but you need to rest. Those women are gone... that's all there is to it."

She knew he hated to let it go... especially when that left the fear unanswered. "Look, my dear, sweet, darling, hardhead... Why don't you just come home for a few days. Nathan or no Nathan, I'll take some time off too, and we'll just get a little R&R together.."

"Yeah, Dad. When I get out of school Friday, why don't we all go see a movie. We talked about that up at Four Corners. It'd be fun."

"Okay... okay. It's bad enough when the boys think I'm nuts, but when you two think it... I guess it's time to give it up and let things drift a little bit more back to normal. Friday night, surf and turf, a movie, maybe even some ice cream."

"Rocky road, Dad?" There was more to it than a joke, and his father knew it.

"Always is, just more than usual right now, but we'll get through." He made himself snap out of it. "Okay, I'll go back to the office, finish up a few things, but come five o'clock, I'm home."

He only had one afternoon to get this done. They weren't gone... he could feel it. There were no leads to where the women were, except Patsy's landlord said she had him holding her mail for the next month. She had said she and her sister-in-law were going on an extensive vacation to Brazil. "Brazil! Like hell."

"Pard, I think your dang feelings have either lied to you or left you high and dry. Whatever happened up in that little room... those spooked decided you were just too much trouble. I think you're still spooked, but now you're head's creating its own bunch of goblins."

"Maybe you're right, Buck. Maybe I have finally just gone crazy. I've been able to trust this for so long, I sort of miss not having it."

"If Vin can't find hide nor hair of them, there's just not hide nor hair to be found. You always said yourself he could find ice in the Sahara.

"Look, give it today. Give it today... we've got to find them. It's my family, Buck. It's Adam and it's Terry. I promised Terry I'd give this up, but I've got until five today before I have to do it for real. Get Vin... give it one more hunt."

"Just humor you?"

"Just help me... just help me make sure they're safe."

---

"I don't know what I thought we could do in five hours that you haven't done in days. I'm sorry, Vin, I think you boys are right. I think I've just finally gone completely crazy."

"Look, Chris, you just head home. You've just pushed yourself over one too many hills since those bombs went off. And don't give Terry a hard time. I don't think this is so much that she wants to stop your working, she just needs you. I've watched her since that little party up in Four Corners. She don't ever get used to just about losing you, but seeing that boy shot dang near destroyed her. She doesn't let you see it. When it's bad, the only thing she lets you see is the anger. She's afraid anything more will get you distracted. Shoot, she likes to act just as tough as you do, but she can sort of let the guard down around me. Knows I won't fault her for nothing, least of all for being a hard working woman and a mother. Buck and I will keep looking. If we find anything, anything at all, we'll come to get you. For now, you just go be with Terry and Adam. That's your most important job right now."

"Vin, you will won't you? You will let me hear?"

"Don't be a bad boy, now... Keep your word... go home."

---

Chapter 20

He needed the break. Through the next two whole nights, he would allow himself to have absolutely no plans. Not one thing he had to do... not unless they wanted it. While Terry fixed the stir fry, he fired up the computer... his computer... not one thing in it connected him to Terry or Adam. He hadn't just surfed in a long time

With the house so quiet, even from the kitchen she heard the beep, heard the chimes that signaled start up, then heard the modem dialing. She came and stood in the open doorway to his office. When he realized she was there, he looked up and smiled his sheepish little bad boy grin. She just shook her head, "Are you working again, already? You promised at least two days." She walked across to look over his shoulder at the screen.

"No, not working... just surfing a little. Checking out..."

"People files, I bet... Patsy and Cynthia?"

"No... no... just looking..." He suddenly let a more wicked little smile light up his face, and he grabbed her and pulled her around and onto his lap, turning her back to the screen.

"Just looking at what?"

"Porn sites." He fibbed and grinned and tilted his head up to her. He loved the mock-shock that showed on her face as she turned in time to watch his personalized sports page disappear from the screen. When she turned back and kissed him, he realized exactly how much he needed this... his home, and especially her.

"Don't you get any ideas..."

"I've already got the ideas... just looking for a little flame starter..."

"I've got your flame starter..." she raised her pencil thin skirt and straddled his lap with her long legs seeming to surrounding him. She tilted his head back and drew her fingers gently through his hair. Kissing him deeply and fully, a long kiss filled with all the love she held for him, she let her tongue explore his mouth. After so many years together, she still knew that the love was fully returned. She let her hands trace circles from his chest to his hard muscular stomach, feeling his ardor begin to stir.

"Um... ummmm... ummmmm... umph... somethings burning..."

"Is it you yet?"

"Um... I think I just might be" He kissed her again, holding her to him, resting his head against her, hating to spoil the moment, "ummmmmm ... but I think it might be Chinese, too.."

"OH, YOU!" She ran, hoping to catch the dinner before it ruined.

"Damn... oh, well... guess we'll just have to put this flame on hold for now..," but when he thought about her, he fervently hoped it wouldn't be for long. He stood and walked to his side office door, opening it to the patio at the rear of the rambling ranch style home. He left the door open to catch the coolness... he wouldn't be long. He stood in the deepening twilight and looked out toward the stables, watching the three horses graze.

"Okay, that settles it... tomorrow... a long ride, picnic, maybe another long ride." He smiled at the turn of phrase in the thought. With Adam back at school, tomorrow was going to be just as good as tonight. A nice little cigar would have made the planning perfect, but over a year before he had promised to be good about smoking even those, and he didn't want anything to spoil the mood. He went back inside, remembering to close the office door.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey yourself. Thought you had practice tonight."

"No... Coach had some report to do for the principal, so we got tonight off. Hey... want to go upstairs and play some pool?"

"Sure. Mom's got stir fry coming... at least I think it survived the fire we started. Let's eat... then we'll all play a few rounds... but not too late. Your Mom and I have got something to do later." The whole time he talked, Chris smiled a smile that Adam knew meant he was up to something. What, exactly, he didn't normally try to find out... his dad always just brushed it off. Tonight, he looked his son straight in the eye and raised his expressive eyebrows, the grin was devil-may-care and then some. For a minute Adam missed it... then he turned bright red... the tips of his ears went crimson. "Awh, Dad... too much information! Geez!"

His father just laughed as he put his arm around his son's shoulder and guided him into the kitchen. "Man's got to learn sometime. How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"If you don't know yet what real good love is all about, it's about time. Just about time." He slipped behind Terry, putting his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. "How long have we got?"

"Not long enough." She realized that her son was in the room, and blushed just as brightly as he had before. "YOU! You're just in a real rare mood tonight, aren't you?"

"Not so rare... we just haven't had time to play in a long, long time. All peck on the cheek and run... sorry to say. Have we got at least thirty minutes before dinner's ready?"

"Yeah... it was the brown rice that burned, so it'll take about forty-five minutes to get done."

"Well, Adam wants to play pool after dinner, so I thought I'd help him finish the stable before we eat... not too much to do, shouldn't take long."

"Fine. Don't get sidetracked by that basketball hoop. I don't want to start this again."

He reached into the refrigerator and extracted one bottle of beer, then the two men headed outside, taking the short cut through the dining room doors. They passed the hoop at the end of the patio. "Game of twenty-one... come on, Dad... just one?"

"You want me to give her a reason to really get mad at me tonight? Tonight? I just don't think I'm willing to do that right now... not even for my favorite son. I'm studying on being a really good boy, all night long. One and a half barn stalls each, then clean up for dinner, eat quick, then a game of pool... one game, just one... then you go to bed."

"But just one game..."

"No. No..no..no... no... N-O! I'm not going anywhere... it'll wait. And remember, you're going to bed early."

"I haven't gone to bed early since I was three!"

"I suggest you give it a try once in a while. Barn... move."

The job was easy, or at least the conversation made it disappear that quickly. The boy kept the place in good enough shape anyway. They were reasonable about how spotless it should be for the night, but left the horses well provided for.

"Twenty-five minutes. Not bad." Chris stood on the patio, looking toward the barn. It was past dark now, and the blinking of the fireflies added another touch of peace to his revelry. The last of the beer taste just find, even if it had gotten a little warm.

"Dad, can I have a beer?"

"No."

"Just one."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"In about what... two months? Well... even seventeen isn't eighteen... and eighteen isn't close to twenty-one. You've always been able to control yourself about stuff like this, and I'm not going to be the one to tell you that breaking the law is okay. Tell you what... I'll buy you what I hope will be your very first beer on your twenty-first birthday... I'll join you for one. It's a promise."

"If we both have beer, who'll drive?

"Planning that far ahead? Who do you think... your Mom will drive. She hates beer anyway, and after I've had even one... I won't be driving. Get the point?"

"Yeah. Can I at least have your name?"

So serious. So quiet. It caught the man with such surprise and emotional force, it took a moment to recover and answer. "Any minute you want it. You've always had it anyway."

The moment was gone. "Dad? What's that light over there?"

"Noticed it a few minutes ago myself. Don't know... probably Bennett looking for a stray."

"Reckon he'll ever learn how to repair a fence?"

"Not if he don't know after all these years. Well, glad it's him, not me, out there tonight. I'm in a real lazy mood. Let's eat... we've got a date with pool... and then I've got a date with your Mom."

"Don't remind me... Geez, Dad!"

His father laughed again, then the two of them walked through the patio doors to see how dinner was coming.

---

Chapter 21

Oh, he had been a very good boy all night long. The date must have set a few records for endurance for the old man and his old lady. This day had been just exactly as he had planned it. A long, leisurely brunch... she even fed him the homemade pancakes he had made with a tiny drizzle of real maple syrup and two pats of honest to goodness butter. He loved it, and she told him that he certainly deserved it. He fixed the picnic lunch while she began to saddle the horses. They left before noon, making a quick retreat through the dining room. They didn't come back until very late, coming into the kitchen through her office, amidst laughter and silliness that belonged to them alone.

"I thought we were going out to dinner and a movie?"

"We are. Keep your britches on. Give us a little time to freshen up and we're set." He dropped his wife's hand, but not before he pulled her close for one last lingering kiss.

"Call me then, I'll be in the game room... but hurry, I'm hungry."

"I'll be done when I am done, gentlemen. You just get ready and wait. I don't get to have a day like this too often, and I intend to look more than just presentable tonight."

Their son departed for upstairs, glad to escape their presence and all the mush. "I can't believe he's getting embarrassed about this."

"Well, he'll just have to get over it. Won't take long... he's good Larabee stock."

"Chris, you want first shower? I'm ready for a nice warm bubble bath, so I'll take the tub for myself... unless you want to join me."

"I'll just use the guest bath... give you a little bit of privacy. If I watch you too much in that bubble bath, we might just have to pretend we're down in the brook again. Then we'll never get that boy his dinner."

"Promises... promises. Well, there's always later, unless you're going to work really early tomorrow."

"You reckon those other bosses will get upset if I declare myself another little holiday... not go back in until Monday?"

His reward was the pure joy he saw in her eyes. "Really?! Four whole days? In a row?"

"Yeah... I didn't realize how long I've gone without a break... and I need a break... and you. You think Nathan will pitch a fit?"

"Yes... but let him. I need you too."

He turned her around and pushed her toward the master bath, giving her a firm, loving swat on her shapely bottom. "You better get started. I'm gonna just go outside for a few minutes... I'll be ready before you are... no rush."

"How gallant... then I'll see you when I see you."

He trailed her through the house, then ambled off through his office, and out into the night air. He left the door open. It was such a pleasant evening. He laughed... Bennett was out there again searching for lost beeves. He felt more like himself than he had since the bombs went off. "Shoot... Shouldn't have thought about that." He sat in one of the chairs and watched the fireflies and listened to the crickets, frogs, and other night creatures that joined in the serenade.

"If I had known what was coming, I wouldn't have stayed the night in Mexico. I'd have found a way to get them. I would have changed the game."

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

"No man ought to lose his own like that. It takes a man's soul."

"Chris?" He heard absolutely nothing. Then...

"I'd have gotten them out of that house. Shouldn't happen, especially to the Larabees, ever again."

"Chris?" But there was nothing. Except a fear that suddenly gripped his gut. He ran into his office and locked the door. He retrieved two handguns and ammunition clips from the locked cabinet, then crossed into the bedroom, and then into the bath. "Would you do something for me?"

"Of course I would... what..." She turned with a smile until she saw his face and a gun in his hands.

"No... do something for me... right now... no questions... just because I ask you to?"

She realized how pale he was. The fear was something she could almost touch. She saw the need to be believed and trusted in his eyes. "What? What is it?"

"I want you to just get dressed... jeans, sweatshirt... fast... get Adam and get ready to leave here. "

"But..."

"Please. There's no time. No questions. Just get ready. I'm going to make a cell call, then we have to go. Don't touch any of the other phones. Just get dressed."

"I don't understand. What's wrong."

"No time... later... please, Terry, please... trust me. Be ready, you and Adam, in five. " He went to the foot of the stairs that led to the game room, "Adam! Come down here."

"In just a minute, Dad."

"ADAM!... NOW! MOVE!"

The boy's footsteps echoed on the stairs. "No need to get mad... What did I do?"

"I'm not mad... just go to your Mom's room and wait there. I've got to make one phone call and then we're leaving."

"Thought Mom was taking a bath..."

"Adam... Later... Just MOVE! Just MOVE, son... Go."

He stepped into the great room again, and punched a speed number, "Vin, come! Get Buck! MOVE! Bring the sheriff and the paramedics. My house... I don't know... everything's too quiet... lights that shouldn't be out there. I don't know... DAMN IT, VIN... I DON'T KNOW. GET BUCK. COME. HELL, VIN, JUST HUMOR ME." The voice signed off without a word. Vin had gone to work. He returned to where his family waited.

"Chris... what is this? Are you okay?"

"Just do it, Terry... come on, just do this."

"All right... calm down. What do you want us to do?"

"Front door... not patio... out the front."

He pulled them behind him, frantic in his need to get them away. He reached for the handle of the door.

"NO! NO!"

He suddenly snatched his hand away from the door knob as if it were flaming hot. His head seemed to explode, knocking him to his knees as tears streamed down his face. He was violently ill. "No! Stop it! Calm down... just calm down. I can't do anything with you like this."

"I'm not calm, but I'm not hysterical either. What's wrong with you?!" Terry reached out to bring him to his feet.

The pain receded, and he was able to think. "Have either of you opened any exterior door beside the kitchen one since we all came home?"

"Well... I opened the front door to go get the mail."

"And I parked the car in the garage when I got home from school... does the utility room door to the garage count?"

"Yes, they all count... I opened the doors between the great room and the patio, and the door between my office and the patio. "

"I opened my office door when we came in."

"And when I went to clean the stalls tonight, I went through the dining room."

"Damn."

"What is this?"

"Don't anybody touch any of the doors."

"Chris?"

"I'm not crazy... at least I hope I'm not... but I think this house is wired.."

"Wired? You mean a bomb? How... we've been here all day."

"No... Adam was at school. You and I were out riding most of the time."

"But we opened all the doors moving around. Wouldn't something have happened then?"

"Not if they're wired like my car was wired. That thing didn't go off the first time, but the second time I opened that door... it only took a few seconds to tear that thing to shreds. And if all these are connected to the same detonator, or a connected series of detonators... this whole place will go. Don't anybody for any reason touch any door in this house, and I don't think I should raise any windows either, or use the phones."

"How do we get out?"

"I'm thinking. I wish I had my tool kit from the car, but we can't risk touching the garage door."

"Here. You can just take these right now." Terry seemed angry and confused. She yanked off her wedding rings and held them in front of her husband.

"You're deciding, at this moment, to leave me? I know what I've promised you, and this is a hell of a mess, but I didn't think..."

"No! Why would I leave you? Use the diamond."

"What?"

"Won't a diamond like mine cut glass?"

"Yes?"

"Cut the panel in the front door. Cut out the design... we can fit through that. Do you think that's safe? Will it work?"

He stopped, deep in thought. "Should work. They wouldn't wire the glass, just something that would trip the detonator... hinge, frame. It won't cut all the way through, but it should etch it deep enough. Terry Larabee, I love you!"

As he began to cut the glass, he began to give them instructions. "Adam, while I'm working on this, you turn off all the lights except one in the kitchen. Go into my office and watch the barn... don't let anyone see you... just see if you notice anybody moving around. Call out if you do. When we go through the opening, I want you both to stay low and head to that patch of woods over to the right. Get in a dense clump of something and stay there, but watch for any movement... you might have to move fast."

"What about you, Dad? Aren't you going too?"

"Not for a while. I need to check things out... see where they are."

"Where who are?" She wanted to understand... but it didn't make sense.

"Cynthia and Patsy."

"You think they're here? Why?"

"Two lights out past the barn... shouldn't be there. Yesterday was Bennett, but not tonight. Bennett never hunts for cattle this late... he'd just leave them until tomorrow. Everything got real quiet all of a sudden... crickets, frogs, the whole planet seems to have just turned off the switch. Otherwise, it's just a feeling. Will you just humor me, one last time? ADAM! Anything?"

The boy was back..."Dad, there's one light moving out past the far side of the barn... coming toward the house by your office. I looked out the breakfast room window when I was turning on the light in there... there was a light out front out beyond the garage, too."

"Okay... we've got to move. Now, I think this is close enough to being through. When I hit it... you two run... I mean run like hell... don't look back, and don't stop for anything. Hide. Are you ready?"

"I don't care about the house. Why don't you go with us?"

"I don't matter in this. If I go with you, we're just one sitting bunch of ducks with two shooters coming straight for us all. Maybe if I'm here... and they'll know I'm here... they'll see us. When they see me stay, maybe they'll just come for me. I'm the one they want."

"Chris... I don't care..."

"Terry! Stop it. Don't argue... just do it! We haven't got time for anything else. You run... you take care of Adam. Nothing else matters to me but the two of you. Buck and Vin are coming. It'll be okay. And Adam..."

"Dad?" His son's eyes shone with fear, but there was a sense of purpose too.

"You've got a job. I'm putting this in your hands." He took one of the guns from his waistband and handed it to his son. "You've practiced with it before... you remember how it works?"

"Yes."

"If you have to... can you use it... even on a woman?"

"Yes." But his voice was low and his throat was parchment dry.

"You get your Mom safe. You stay with her. If it comes to it... you two are the ones who live... but especially your Mom... I think that's what you'd want too... do you understand?" He pulled his son to him, holding him close. "You know I love you? That I'm proud of you?"

"Yes, sir, I know. And, Dad, it's what I'd choose, too. We'll be okay."

"I can't stand this." Tears quietly began to slip down her cheeks.

He held her to him and kissed her. He reached down and took her hand in his. He looked at her seriously, as if his life depended on what she did next. "These belong here, don't they?" He slipped the rings back where he had placed them for keeps all those years ago. He smiled as she nodded, and kissed her one more time. "Okay... ready?" He slammed the butt of his pistol into the glass circle and led the way out of peril and into a new kind of danger.

He saw them move low and fast in the direction he had sent them. Then, crouching low himself, he moved toward the garage side of the house. But it didn't go as planned. He heard something crack... a dry branch cracking under someone's foot... behind him... back beyond the other corner of the house. Back toward his family. He whirled, intent on covering their escape, only to see a shadow move in their wake. He began to run.

Shots echoed from everywhere at once. Something sharp slammed into his back... then something else struck his chest... then another. He was on the ground without realizing he was there. Very far away he heard another gun speak twice, somewhere else a woman's piercing scream. Then there was just bedlam. "Wrong plan, Chris. Wrong plan." He whispered their names. "Terry? Adam?" He was very tired, so he closed his eyes and let the worries and regrets slip away.

---

"Come on Chris... stay with me. They're safe... you just stay with me."

"Nathan?" Pain. Lights... bright annoying lights. He didn't want to stay with this. It was easier to just let it all go. No more pain... hospital... too tired to do that again.

"Oh, Chris. Don't let go. They're coming now. I need you. I love you... Please stay."

Pain. Why was there something wet falling on his face. Tired... so tired.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..." Josiah's deep voice, nearby. Peaceful. Pain... too much pain. Tired.

"Stay with me Chris. You hear me..." Buck at his side.

"Can't sleep just yet, pard... hold on." Vin too.

Two voices. Safe. Tired.

"Both of 'em gone?"

"Yeah... just wouldn't go peaceful. Sheriff and his boys got 'em. They're checking the house now. I told 'em to stay away from the doors. " Buck and Vin. Working. So tired... so tired. Let is go.

"Mr. Larabee... it is most important that you remain a part of this team!" Ezra too? Tired.

"You gonna just give up."

"Tired, Chris. So damned tired."

"Easy to be tired. Harder to hold on and do it right."

"Won't make any difference. I don't count in this. They count."

"Stupid plan, cowboy. Any easier for them if you give up?"

"Chris... listen to me... Chris... don't leave... we need you." Her voice cracked. Not so tough this time.

"Dad? Dad? You promised... remember... my first beer... twenty-first birthday. You promised. If you give up, now... I won't wait... I won't wait a week... Damn it, Dad... you hear me... You've got to hold on!"

"You telling me you'd give up on two like that? On all the ones you've got?"

"Tired, Chris. I'm tired."

"Hell. So what? You've been tired before, Cowboy... you'll be tired again. But those... they're all worth the fight. Worth all the effort, all the pain, and all the trouble. Well, ain't they?"

"Expect they are. And don't call me a cowboy."

"Then, just shut up and finish it."

"Terry... we've got him stable as we can... we've got to move."

"Chris, Nathan's got you... the ambulance is ready. Don't you let go... you hear me... hang on... DON'T YOU LET GO." She kissed him.

"Worth the effort again?"

"Yeah. Anything they want."

"Dad, Dad... come on Dad... don't give up now."

He struggled to open his eyes for just a small little look. So many people standing close by, waiting for him. He knew the hard work would come later, but he looked one time at the ones he knew waited for him to get it started. Then he focused on the two that mattered the most.

"I'm fine... just fine." Tired... but not too tired. Work to do.

"Oh, you look like you're just fine!"

"Help me... finish this?"

"Yes... I'll be right here."

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, looking up into the glistening eyes of his son, "Lots more work. Judge... Names... All same names... Tomorrow. Okay? Twenty-one..," he whispered. "all... got a date. Go to ... this much trouble... better be... your first."

THE END