This story is in response to a challenge from Lanna. The idea was to have Chris in need of Nathan's care, but Nathan's also been injured and needs help. Thanks Antoinette for being a great beta as usual.

---

Chris Larabee, tall, lean, blond gunslinger and now peacekeeper in Four Corners, leaned wearily against the stairs to Nathan Jackson's clinic. He waited for Jackson to finish examining the child he brought in earlier that morning. His mind traveled back to the accident that led him to be here...

The boy stumbled into the road just outside Four Corners a little before dawn and Chris didn't see him. Unable to stop Pony the gelding struck him and knocked the boy to the ground. The gunslinger dismounted and hurried to the boy, unaware he was being watched. He bent down and checked the unmoving child, worried when the boy didn't respond to him. He did a cursory exam and thanked God when he found nothing broken. Forcing the guilt to the back of his mind he lifted the frail body in his arms and hurried back to his horse. He gently lifted the child onto the animal and climbed up behind him.

Chris Larabee knew what it was like to lose a child and he vowed the parents of this boy would not suffer that fate. If anyone was close enough to see the blond's face they would have seen the pain in the green eyes. They would have seen the fear written across the face that could stare down the most hardened outlaw. If Vin Tanner or Buck Wilmington or any other member of the seven saw him they would have recognized the pain for what it was, guilt! The same guilt Larabee wore every day of his life when he thought no one noticed. The guilt of not being there to save his own family.

He rode fast towards town and stopped in front of Jackson's clinic. He dismounted, pulled the boy into his arms and hurried up the stairs to the room the healer used over the livery. He shoved open the door and heard the sleepy, mumbled voice of his friend.

"What the hell's goin on?" Jackson asked, his mind still half asleep. His eyes opened wide as he saw the black clad gunslinger standing in the doorway, with the pale glow of dawn framing the lean form. His eyes dropped to the small child in Larabee's arms and he hurried towards him. "Chris, what happened?" he asked as he led the way to the bed. He lit the lamp and placed it back on the small table.

"I...I hit him with Pony. I...I didn't see him, Nathan. He came out of nowhere."

"We'll talk about that later, Chris, let me take care of the boy first," Jackson knew from the blond's stance the man was feeling guilty about what happened. He also knew the man would not be consolable until he knew the boy wasn't badly hurt. "Why don't you wait outside? I'll come get you as soon as I know how he is."

"Nate, I..."

"I don't know yet, Chris. Just give me a little time and I'll let you know." He watched the blond head bob once and walk dejectedly across the floor and out the door. The slump of the shoulders was an indication of just how bad his friend was feeling. Jackson shook himself and turned to the pale boy on the bed.

Once outside Chris sank heavily to the top step and leaned against the railing. He looked out over the town as the first rays of the sun flirted with the early morning dawn. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cheroot, flicked a match and lit the end. He sucked in the smoke and let it out slowly. The boy reminded him of his own son, the brown hair, the small frame, bringing his memories close to the front of his mind once more.

He finished the cheroot and thought about the five missing peacekeepers. They were due home sometime the next day. The men were returning from testifying against a gang that attacked a small town north of Four Corners. The outlaws killed the town banker, his wife, two small children, and the blacksmith before being stopped by the sheriff and the five peacekeepers from Four Corners.

"Chris?"

Larabee looked towards the clinic and stood up. He had no idea how much time passed since he brought the boy in, but it felt like he'd been on the landing forever. He stood up and asked. "How's he doing, Nathan?"

"He's pretty banged up, Chris..."

"Dammit, I should've been paying more attention..."

"Now wait a minute, Chris. I said he's pretty banged up. I didn't say it was your fault. There's no way his injuries were caused by you hitting him."

"How can you say that?"

"Because I've seen the marks left on a body when it's been struck by a horse. How fast were you and Pony going?"

"Not fast. I just finished patrolling the area and I was enjoying the night air. The boy came out of the trees and I didn't see him until Pony struck him."

"The boy didn't get in front of Pony's hooves or anything, did he?"

"No, I guess it was more like he ran into Pony..."

"I thought so. Look, the boy has more bruises on his body than I've seen in a long time."

"Damn..."

"But the bruises weren't caused by you or Pony," Jackson interrupted. "From what I can see the boy's been beaten and more than once. He's got bruises on him in the shape of a man's hand." He watched Larabee's green eyes glow with excessive anger, but continued his explanation. "He's got no broken bones so that's one piece of luck, but Chris, he's hurt and he's been badly abused."

"Is he awake?"

"Not yet. He's got a lump on his head and no you didn't cause it. It looks to be a few days old. I think he's just exhausted and his body's not ready to wake up. Maybe he's not ready to face what happened to him. But, Chris..."

"What's wrong, Nathan?" Larabee asked when the healer stopped mid sentence.

"If he was runnin' when you found him then whoever he was runnin' from is still after him. Did you see or hear anyone?"

Larabee shook his head and walked towards the clinic. "I never saw anyone, but the boy, Nathan. I thought I'd killed him."

Jackson's worried brown gaze met the green eyes on equal terms as he spoke softly. "Whoever did this is probably gonna come lookin' for the boy, Chris."

"They won't get him, Nathan!" Larabee spat angry that anyone could do this to a child.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Chris. You do realize we have no real right to stop them from takin' him. All they gotta do is say the child is disobedient and that they were trying to keep him in line."

"Keep him in line! How the hell can you call beating a child keeping him in line?"

"I don't call it that, Chris, but some people believe in the old saying spare the rod and spoil the child. The people who did this to the boy took that way too far. We need to get the judge to write up an order that protects this child and make sure he doesn't go back to the hell he's been in."

"Alright, we'll wire the judge. Maybe he'll have some ideas on what we can do."

"That's the best bet, Chris. For now we need to keep him safe and take care of him."

"I'll sit with him."

"You were on patrol last night and you didn't sleep, did you?"

"I'm okay, Nathan."

"I know you are, but you're not gonna do that boy any good if you pass out on him." Jackson knew Larabee was thinking about his own son and knew there was no way he'd be able to get the gunslinger to leave. He sighed and thought of the small cot. "You might as well take advantage of my cot. I'll go send the telegram and get us both some breakfast."

"Alright," Larabee agreed and walked into the clinic. He sank onto the chair by the bed and sighed heavily. The boy was huddled on his right side with the blankets pulled up to his shoulder. Chris watched him closely, noting the pale features and the bruises that marred the tiny face. Dark brown curls framed an innocence that could only be seen in a child. Even with the signs of abuse Chris could see the boy was indeed a handsome one. He swore under his breath as hatred towards the person responsible for such brutality grew to encompass the heart of a man who'd known and loved a child of his own. He reached out and flicked back the small curls, and was surprised to see a pair of dark brown eyes open. He watched as the boy's face took on a terrified look and made sure he didn't make any move that would scare the child. He spoke softly, trying to keep the kid from panicking further.

"It's alright, Son, nobody's gonna hurt you."

The brown eyes grew round with terror as he looked around the dull interior of the clinic. He pulled the blankets closer and tried to move away from the stranger beside the bed.

"It's really okay. There's just me and you here and I promise no one's gonna lay a hand on you." Chris watched some of the terror leave the face as he continued to talk softly. The gunslinger smiled as he asked. "Can you tell me your name?"

The child stared wild eyed around the room until he realized they really were alone. His terrified gaze finally came to a halt on the smiling man seated beside his bed. He heard the softly spoken words and something inside him knew he could trust this man. He trembled as he looked deep into the soft green eyes.

"You can trust me, Son, I won't hurt you. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

"W...won't 'urt me?" the weak, terrified voice asked hopefully.

Larabee slowly reached for the child's hand and took it in his own. He smiled as the eyes continued to meet his. "No, Son, no one will hurt you. What's your name?"

"Tommy Wilson."

"Well, Tommy, can you tell me how you got hurt?"

"I...I...he t...told me I w...wasn't s'posed to tell n...no...one," Tommy's eyes shifted across the room, searching the darkened corners of the clinic.

"Who told you?" Larabee asked softly, gently pulling the kid into his arms.

"P...Pa. He s...said I d'served it, said I'se a bad b...boy."

"Where's your Ma?" Larabee held the child close as the small, too thin body was wracked with sobs.

"Pa took me 'way from Ma. He s...said she's makin' me s...soft. I'se scared, Mister."

"You don't have to be scared anymore, Tommy. My name's Chris and I'll make sure no one hurts you like this anymore. Where do you live?"

"Don't live nowhere. We move aroun' lots cause Pa says he can't let the law catch 'im."

"Your Pa's a wanted man?" Larabee asked and felt the tiny head nod against his shoulder.

"He's a ou'law. He s...says he's gonna teach me how ta be one. I don't wanna be one'a them. I wanna go 'ome."

Chris held the child against his chest as tremor after tremor wracked the small body. "You'll go home, Tommy. I'll find a way to get you back to your ma. Can you tell me her name?"

"Her name's S...Sarah an' she lives in a big city. Pa came an' he took me from 'er."

"Somehow or another I'll make sure you get back with your ma, Tommy." Chris bit back a gasp as he heard the name Sarah, that this child's mother bore the same name as his wife was almost too much. He knew his own Sarah would never have hurt anyone and he wondered how much suffering the child's mother was going through. He felt the boy in his arms relax and knew he was asleep. He gently placed him on the bed and let the tears flow from his eyes. A child was a precious gift God gave to two people to care for and nurture. How anyone could do this to their flesh and blood went against everything the gunslinger believed in.

"No one will ever hurt you again, Tommy, I'll see to that."

Nathan Jackson heard the gunslinger's vow and knew this was a man who didn't make them lightly. He stepped into the room and placed a heavily laden tray on the small table. "I thought I told you to get some rest?"

"He was awake, Nathan. He told me his father did this to him, said he was too soft. How the hell can a six year old be too soft?"

"Some people are just plain mean, Chris."

"He's worse than mean, Nathan, he's an evil son of a bitch and when I get my hands on him..."

"When we get our hands on him, Chris. You're not going after him alone! Do you know who he is?"

"The boy's name is Tommy Wilson. He didn't tell me his father's name yet, just said he was wanted by the law."

"That's good. That the father is wanted by the law. It'll make it easier to keep the child away from him. What about his mother."

Larabee relayed the information the boy gave him and the two men moved to the table. Nathan watched as the gunslinger picked at his food. He knew his friend's own son was around the same age as the boy on the bed and he wondered what was going through his mind.

Chris kept glancing towards the bed and the pale form lying in it. His heart constricted in his chest as memories of his last few hours with Sarah and Adam came to his mind. He loved his wife and son more than life itself and he knew that was why this child was hitting him so hard. The bruised features showed the terror Tommy Wilson suffered at the hands of his father. If I get my hands on you I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget, he thought. He pushed back the barely touched plate and reached for the coffee. He sipped slowly until the cup was empty, then stood and stretched.

"Get some sleep, Chris."

Larabee nodded and moved towards the cot. He sank into its depths and spread his lean form over the length of it. He turned on his side and watched the bed against the opposite wall. Slowly his eyes slid shut and he felt himself surrender to sleep, but not a deep sleep. Over the years he learned to let his body and mind relax, yet be ready for trouble before his mind knew it was there.

---

Burt Wilson was an angry man. He blamed his men that the child escaped him once again. His hands were clenched at his sides, evidence that he was ready to kill anyone who got in his way. He paced back and forth in front of the fire, waiting for his men to return with the boy. He had little doubt they would be successful, he just didn't know how long it would take. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and angrily threw it across the clearing when he realized it was empty.

Wilson was a large man with beefy hands and well muscled arms. His face bore the markings of a hard life, scars ran the length of his right cheek, and his misshapen nose was evidence that it was broken more than once. The unmistakable marks of a rope encircled his neck and his eyes held a deadly cold glare that didn't bode well for his son once he was found. He threw more logs on the fire and wondered where the hell his three companions were. A sound to his right made him go down on his knee and draw his gun. He relaxed his six foot four frame as Gary Marshall stepped into view. "Did you find that little shit?"

"No. I never saw anything. That little weasel can run like a cornered lion. Ain't no way we'll find 'im in the dark."

"It ain't dark, Gary. How far could he have..."

Two men rushed into the clearing and hurried towards Wilson and Marshall. Both men were breathless and stood before their angry boss.

"Did you find him?" Wilson asked.

"We saw him," Robert Brady answered as he picked up the canteen.

"Then where the hell is he?" Wilson's hand knocked the canteen out of the smaller man's hand.

"He got picked up by some man on the road into Four Corners," the second man whose name was Blake Jordan answered nervously.

"Four Corners?" Marshall stated. "Isn't that the place where those hired guns are keepin' the peace?"

"Yeah, that's the place. I didn't plan on visiting the town, but I think it's time to change my mind. Pack up boys, it's time we showed those peacekeepers that its not polite to kidnap my son." He stood and watched as the three men put out the fire and packed everything on their horses.

---

Chris knew someone was watching him and he peeled his eyes open to half mast. He looked across the room at the boy. The child's face was filled with misery that Chris knew should not be seen on a boy his age. He fought back the anger and finished opening his eyes. He smiled at the boy and sat up.

"How are you feeling, Tommy?" he asked.

"S...scared," the small voice trembled as he watched the man across the room stand up.

"You don't need to be scared of me, Tommy. I'm gonna make sure no one hurts you like this again."

"You c...can't stop him, Mister. He's g...gonna come l...lookin' for me and he's g...gonna kill you."

"No he won't, Kid. He's never gonna get his hands on you again. As soon as you tell me where your Mom lives I'll telegraph her and make arrangements to take you back to her." He was rewarded by a smile from the pale, battered form. "Are you hungry?"

"Y...yes, t...thirsty too."

"Let's see what we can do about getting rid of your thirst first." Chris smiled and moved to the table. He poured a small glass of water and returned to the child. He helped him sit up and held the cup while Tommy slowly sipped the refreshing liquid. The gunslinger eased him back on the bed and smiled once more.

"I'm just gonna go out on the landing and see if I can get someone to bring you some lunch. Alright?" Larabee saw the fear come over the brown eyes and continued, "I'll stay right in the door so you can see me, okay?"

"O...okay," Tommy mumbled as he pulled the blanket over himself once more.

Chris walked to the door and opened it. His eyes fell on the healer. The dark skinned man sat in a chair overlooking the peaceful town. Chris had the feeling that Nathan Jackson was protecting them from whoever was searching for Tommy Wilson. He smiled and called. "Nathan?"

Jackson swivelled around and looked at the gunslinger. "Is he..."

"He's awake and he's hungry," Chris informed the healer.

"That's great. Let me just take a look at him while you go get something for you both."

"I don't want to leave him yet, Nate," Larabee informed his friend.

Jackson eyed the lean form and knew Chris Larabee would probably stick by the child until he was healed, and back with his mother. He nodded slightly and knew the other man was following him into the clinic. He noted the fear come quickly over the child's face and spoke softly. "Hi, Tommy, my name's Nathan and I'm a..."

"He's a healer, Tommy," Larabee explained as he stepped up to the bed. "He's just gonna check you over and then he'll go get us both some lunch. Okay?"

"Okay."

Jackson was amazed at the difference in the boy's face once he saw Chris beside him. These two were already bonded and Jackson hoped neither one would be hurt. He knew Chris would find it hard to let go of the boy who so quickly had a hold over him. The boy would have just as difficult a time saying goodbye to a man he suddenly felt safe with. "Alright, Tommy, how do you feel?"

"My Pa say's I ain't 'loud to complain."

"Your Pa's not gonna know, Tommy. Tell Nathan how you feel so he can help you."

"My head and my belly 'urts," the boy explained.

"That's because you've got a lot of bruises on you. Once they start to go away you'll feel a lot better," Jackson told the boy. He finished checking the child's injuries and smiled brightly. "I think you're gonna be fine, Tommy. You just lie there and I'll go get you some lunch. We have a lady here named Inez and she makes a really good chicken broth. Do you like vegetables." At the timid nod, the healer continued. "I'll see if she can put some in there just for you." Jackson stood up and signalled for Chris to follow him.

"I'll be right by the door, Tommy," Larabee assured the child.

Once out on the landing Jackson spoke softly. "He's doing really well, Chris. He's got a slight fever, but I don't think its anything serious. You just make sure he drinks lots of water and he'll do fine. I'll be right back with lunch for both of you."

"Thanks, Nathan," Larabee said as he returned to the clinic. He sat by the child's bed and once more thought of his brief years with Adam and Sarah. This child will not die because of a madman, he thought as he picked up the tiny hand once more. He smiled as he felt the hand squeeze his tightly.

---

The four men rode steadily towards Four Corners. Wilson explained to each of them what they were to do. The first thing they needed to know was how many of the seven peacekeepers were in town. The second was to find out if there was a doctor and if so where he was located. The third thing was to kill anyone who tried to interfere with his plans for his son.

The town came into view as dusk took over the surrounding area. Wilson's eyes wandered back and forth as they slowly rode into the town. He saw two women walking beside each other and enter a building with a hotel sign on it. He watched as two men opened a swinging door and stepped into what could only be the saloon. A man and woman and two kids were just climbing into a wagon as they pulled their horses to a stop in front of the livery. A man came from inside and asked if he could help them. Wilson tossed him a few coins and ordered, "Make sure they are well fed and looked after properly."

"Yes, Sir," Yosemite said as he slipped the coins into his pocket and took the reins. He watched as the four strangers walked towards the saloon. There was something about them he didn't like. He threw the reins over the hitching post and hurried to the stairs leading to Jackson's clinic.

Chris looked up as the man entered. He knew by the look on the liveryman's face that something was troubling him.

"What's wrong, Yosemite?" he asked.

"Four men just rode in, Mr. Larabee. I ain't never seen 'em before. There's somethin' about 'em. Especially the one who paid me to look after the horses. Real nasty lookin' son of a bitch."

"Do you know where Nathan is?" Larabee asked.

"Last time I saw 'im he's headed for the telegraph office."

"Where'd they go?"

"They were headed towards the saloon."

"Alright, Yosemite, you go see if you can find Nathan. Tell him to come back here right away."

"You think they're trouble?"

"They could be. Right now I don't want to take any chances. See if you can get everyone to stay inside their homes until we find out who these guys are."

Yosemite nodded and hurried from the clinic.

Chris looked at the kid in the bed and a shiver of apprehension ran down his spine. Somehow he knew the newcomers were here about this child. He placed the hand back on the bed and waited until he was sure the boy was sleeping. He walked out on the landing and over to the stairs. His eyes raked up and down the street, relieved to see people going into their homes and clearing the area. He knew Yosemite must've already passed the word as the street quickly emptied. He stood watching for Nathan's return.

---

Jackson smiled at Inez as he finished ordering fresh coffee for himself and Larabee. He knew the gunslinger would not drink whiskey while the child was in the clinic. The saloon was empty of patrons, yet Jackson knew it would get busy before long. He turned towards the door as they were pushed inwards, surprised when he didn't recognize the newcomers.

Four men walked through and silently stepped up to the bar. The leader was a tall man with a scarred face. The second man was a touch shorter with a balding head and a baby face. The third and fourth men had the same sandy blond hair, but that's where the similarities ended. Where one would be considered handsome the other would have been considered homely.

Wilson stepped to the bar and slapped down a ten dollar gold coin. "Whiskey, the best ya got!" he snapped. He looked to his right and noticed the dark skinned man looking at him. "What's your problem?" he asked angrily.

"A lady deserves a little courtesy," Jackson told him.

"She ain't a lady she's a bar keep," Marshall leered over the counter at the pretty woman. "Is she available?"

"You ignorant..."

"Who the hell are you callin' ignorant, Darkie?" Brady asked.

Jackson looked at the and his three companions. He would've loved to smash his fist into the newcomer's face, but knew his three buddies would make quick work of him. He wished the others were back as he knew instinctively these men were trouble. Before he could say anything Inez was back with the whiskey and shook her head imperceptibly at him. The healer understood she didn't want him to do anything that would cause the four men to do retaliate. He returned the small gesture and picked up the coffee. He walked towards the door wondering how he was going to let Chris know what was happening without leaving Inez alone in the saloon.

"Where're ya headed?" Brady asked. "Ain't ya got no guts?"

"Now, Senor, please don't start any trouble."

Brady turned back to the pretty Mexican woman and smiled at her. "The only thing I want to start is with you, Senorita. Have you got a room around here?" he asked and jumped up on the bar. He dropped down beside the dark haired woman and reached his hand out towards her. He gasped as he felt something slice into his arm. He lifted his hand to strike her, but was stopped by the heated voice of Burt Wilson.

"Leave her alone, Brady. I'm sorry, Ma'am, it's just been a while since he's seen a woman, especially one as lovely as you."

Inez held the tiny knife in front of her, "Get out of this saloon or I'll stick you again."

"You heard the lady. Take the whiskey and clear outta the salon and Four Corners," Jackson warned.

Wilson turned from the bar and gazed at the man standing by the doors. The gun in his hand didn't waver as he pointed the weapon at them. "Can you use that thing?" he sneered.

"I can and I will," Jackson warned, his voice deadly calm as he looked towards the woman behind the bar. "Get out of here, Inez!"

"But, Nathan..."

"Go get help," Jackson snapped as Wilson, Marshall and Jordan separated.

Inez made a move towards the end of the bar, but was stopped by the angry bulk of Brady. He knocked the knife out of her hand, but was stopped in his tracks as a bullet slammed into his chest. Inez screamed as another shot rang out and Nathan Jackson fell heavily to the floor.

---

The gunslinger heard the gunshots and knew they'd come from the saloon. He heard a scream from behind him and turned to see the small child standing there. He looked from the boy to the saloon and back again, wondering who needed him more. The child screamed hysterically and Chris hurried to pull him into his arms. He ran down the stairs, all the while murmuring to Tommy that everything would be okay. He ran along the street until he came to Gloria Potter's store. He pounded on the door until the woman opened it a crack.

Gloria recognized the man standing there and opened the door further. "What's going on, Mr. Larabee?" she asked as she reached for the trembling child.

"There's trouble in the saloon, Mrs. Potter. Can you take care of Tommy until I come back?"

"Sure."

"Y...you p...promised he w...wouldn't h...hurt me..."

"I keep my promises, Tommy. I'm gonna go make sure everything's okay and then I'll be back. Mrs. Potter is a nice lady and she'll make sure you're okay. Ask her if she has any of her special cookies." He rubbed the boy's head and nodded to Gloria Potter before hurrying towards the saloon.

---

Inez hurried around the bar and knelt beside the downed healer. Blood flowed from a wound low on his right side. She ripped open his shirt and bit back a gasp at the angry bullet wound. She tore a piece off her skirt and pressed it against the bloody hole. She heard the men at the bar and sneered as one of them asked if there was a doctor in town. She turned an icy glance towards them as she answered.

"We do have a doctor, but you just shot him!" She felt Jackson try to sit up and pressed him down firmly. "Just be still, Senor," she ordered.

"C...Chris."

"He's not here yet," Inez told him.

"Ya gotta warn him," Jackson muttered painfully as his eyes slid shut.

"I will, Nathan," Inez said as she picked up Jackson's gun and pointed it at the three remaining men. "Get out of here," she hissed.

---

Chris heard Inez's voice and stood to the side of the double doors. He drew his gun and held it in front of him, praying the newcomers would do as Inez ordered. He breathed deeply as he heard footsteps coming towards the door.

Wilson smiled at the Mexican woman and nodded to his two remaining men. "Let's go find my boy," he laughed.

Larabee knew who they were and knew right away who the man was talking about. He swore he'd take them down and make sure it would be safe for the boy to return to his mother. He held his breath as two men stepped through the door. He pointed his gun and waited for their reaction. He knew there were two more inside and wondered how badly Nathan Jackson was injured. "Drop the guns, Boys," he warned as the two men turned towards him. "Drop 'em?" he warned again as he cocked his weapon.

Marshall smiled thinly as he looked at the dark clad man standing to the right of the door. He knew by the stance this was a man to be reckoned with, a man who knew how to use a gun and wouldn't think twice about shooting him. He slowly lowered his weapon

Chris watched as the two men lowered their weapons. He knew the taller man was the more dangerous of the two and he kept his body taut as he watched them both. "I said drop 'em!" he snapped as Marshall's hand came up. Chris's finger depressed the trigger and the big man dropped lifelessly to the dust covered boardwalk. Larabee's hand turned to the second man before the man had a chance to realize what was happening. "Tell your friends to get out here!" he ordered.

"T...there's no one else," Jordan lied.

"Don't fuck with me!" Larabee snapped. "There's two more and I want them out here now!"

"I...I can't."

Wilson heard the two men talking and made his move. He slammed the doors of the saloon open and grabbed the smaller man, using him as a shield.

Chris watched as a large form came through the door and fired instinctively. He registered a cry of alarm from the smaller man just before the body was thrown at him. Chris fell to the ground, his gun slipping from his grasp. He shoved the body off just as the big man reached out and grasped him around the throat.

Wilson glared at the blond as he pulled him to his feet. "Whoever you are you'd best tell me where I can find my boy!"

Larabee struggled to get the hands off his throat. He tried to slip his fingers under the vice like grip. His vision began to blur and he knew he was in trouble. A picture of the small boy Gloria Potter was looking after gave him strength, and he brought both hands over his head. He slammed them together on the larger man's ears, hoping to cause the grip to weaken. His own ears were ringing as he tried the same move again. This time the outlaw released him and clasped his ears.

Larabee dropped to his knees and tried to breathe. The reprieve didn't last long, but this time he was ready for it. He launched his foot out and connected with a knee. He heard a cry, but there was no time to take satisfaction from it. He stood on shaky legs and once more moved towards the man. They traded blows for a few minutes until Larabee finally connected with a solid uppercut to Wilson's chin. The man stood for a few minutes and then silently slumped to the ground.

Chris sank to his knees and rubbed at his raw throat. He looked at the three men, one dead and two unconscious. His head came up as he realized there was still another man. He picked up the three guns and placed them in his waistband. He spotted his own discarded weapon and picked it up, holding it in front of his bruised body. He glanced down at the unconscious men and then hurried through the batwing doors. His eyes fell on Inez as she lifted the weapon towards him. He saw her relief as she recognized him.

"Where's the other one?"

"Behind the bar. Nathan shot him and I think he's dead."

Chris hurried to the bar and checked on the man. He knew immediately the man was dead, evidenced by the open, unseeing eyes. Larabee turned back to his friend and the woman. "How is he?"

"He's got a bullet in him, Senor, but he's alive."

"Are you alright with him for a minute? I need to take care of the garbage out front before he wakes up," Larabee asked.

"Si, Senor, I can take care of him," she assured the gunslinger.

Chris looked down at his unconscious friend before turning towards the door. His eyes widened as the large outlaw busted through them, his gun drawn. Chris pulled his own and lifted it. Two shots sounded as one and both men fell to the floor of the saloon. The only sound, the frightened cry of the woman holding the injured healer. The only movement, the smoke that billowed from the discharged weapons, discarded on the floor beside their rightful owners.

Inez stared at the blond gunslinger, a sickening dread in the pit of her stomach as she watched blood pool from a wound in his upper chest. She moved away from the injured healer and checked on the gunslinger. She ripped another piece from her skirt and pulled open the black shirt. The tiny wound produced more blood than she thought possible and she leaned heavily on it. She heard a small gasp as two glazed, green eyes opened and staring up at her.

"I...Inez, you a...alright?" he asked through the agonizing pain flaring in his chest.

"I'm fine, Senor. It's you and Senor Jackson who need help. You just stay there while I go get some of the men to help me get you both to the clinic."

"H...how bad is N...Nathan?" Larabee asked worriedly.

Inez glanced quickly towards the unconscious man and then back to the blond. "He's got a bullet in his side. I've stopped the bleeding, but he's still lost a lot blood. I'll be right back, Senor."

"O...okay," Larabee rasped as the pain overwhelmed him. He lifted his left hand and placed it over the wound in his chest. He knew it was bad, knew by the way each breath burned as it entered his throat. He closed his eyes, but couldn't surrender to the call of darkness until he knew the boy's father was dead. He turned onto his side and dragged himself hand over hand until he laid next to the big man. He reached up and touched the neck with his bloodied left hand. Chris let his head drop to the hard floor as he realized the man who'd beaten Tommy Wilson was dead, and would never hurt the child again. A deep sadness slammed into his chest as he realized he wouldn't be around to share in the joy when the boy was reunited with his mother.

Inez ran from the saloon, screaming for help in the darkening streets. All around her people began to open their doors a crack, unsure whether it was safe to come out or not. She spotted Yosemite coming out of the livery and hurried towards him. "I need help. Senor Jackson and Senor Larabee have been shot. Get some of the men to help me get them to the clinic."

"How bad are they?" Yosemite asked as he reached her.

"They are both very bad. They're in the saloon with those other men. I think the others are dead, but I don't know. there's so much blood on them. We need to help them. Are the others back yet?" Inez knew she was rambling, but couldn't stop herself. "I'm going to get Mrs. Potter. Mary's still visiting her son and his grandparents.."

"It's okay, Miss Inez. You go get Mrs. Potter. I'll take care of getting Mr. Larabee and Mr. Jackson to the clinic. We'll make sure those outlaws are thrown in jail until we can take care of them."

Inez nodded and hurried to Potter's store. She was greeted by the older woman, who held a small sobbing child in her arms. She knew the background story on the boy having heard the rumors around the small town during the day. "I'm going to need your help," she told the storeowner.

"What's happened, Inez?" Gloria asked worriedly.

"Four men came into the saloon. They shot Senor Jackson and Senor Larabee..."

"Oh my, Lord! Are they hurt bad?" At Inez's nod she looked at the frightened boy. "Its okay, Tommy. Mr. Larabee will be okay." She knew from the short time she spent with the boy that the dark clad gunslinger had made an impression on the child. She knew of the deaths of Larabee's own wife and child and realized why the bond took hold so quickly. The man and the boy each suffered a great loss in different ways and saw a kindred spirit in each other. "Inez, is someone going to bring them to the clinic?"

"Si. Yosemite is rounding up some men to take care of them and put the outlaws in jail."

"That's good. Now you go to the clinic and get things ready there. I wish Vin and the others were back."

"Me too, Mrs. Potter. Hopefully they'll arrive early tomorrow morning," Inez said as she hurried towards the clinic.

---

Dawn was just brightening the morning sky when the five peacekeepers moved out of the clearing. Something woke them earlier than normal and each man knew when to heed their instincts. Vin and Buck hurried to ready the horses, neither man taking the time to eat or drink coffee. Josiah and JD prepared a simple breakfast, which went mostly untouched. Even the stoic gambler seemed to have a sense of impending doom. So it was that half an hour after waking up to total darkness the peacekeepers mounted up and galloped towards their home. Neither man realized that the others were saying a silent prayer they'd find their two friends seated in their normal spots outside the saloon.

---

Yosemite and the other men of the town quickly moved Larabee and Jackson into the clinic. Once finished they removed the dead bodies from the saloon and moved the one live outlaw into the jail. The man wasn't injured, but was knocked out when Wilson shoved him into Chris Larabee.

Inez cared for the injured healer while Gloria looked after the gunslinger. Neither woman knew anything about removing bullets, especially ones as serious and potentially life threatening as those inflicted on the two men. Both peacekeepers were sporting the signs of a fever and muttering under their breath. Neither man woke up while they were stripped of their clothing and placed on the beds. The two women knew they needed to cool them down and hope that the other peacekeepers returned before it was too late.

Tommy Wilson was being cared for by the Miller family. Gloria hated leaving the child, yet she knew there was little choice. She needed to help save the lives of two of the men responsible for returning Four Corners to a town they could all be proud of. She dipped the cloth into the water and once more wiped the sweat from the blond head. The morning sun shone through the windows and she knew today would be another scorcher. She gasped as Larabee's body began to thrash on the bed.

"Goddamn you, you d...don't hurt a c...child! I'm sorry, A...Adam, I t...tried to s...stop him!"

Gloria held his shoulders and sobbed as she realized the injured man had substituted his own dead son for the abused child he rescued early the day before. She spoke soothingly as she struggled to keep the man on the bed. His weak cries tore at her heart. She had children of her own and would make sure no one harmed them. She watched as fever bright eyes opened and knew the man was not seeing her.

"Adam! No! G...get a....away from him. S...sorry, T...Tommy....Oh, God..." Larabee's pain filled mind struggled to focus, to dispatch the pain of seeing the battered bodies of two small boys. Somehow he knew one was real and one wasn't, but it didn't matter, a child was hurt and he needed to save him. "I...I'll kill y...you if you h...hurt him again!" he vowed and tried to fight off the hands that held him to the bed.

"Mr. Larabee...Chris, it's okay. Tommy's with Martha. He's fine. Now you just lie there and we'll get you well so you can see him!" Gloria Potter feared for the life of the two men. Nathan Jackson was the town healer, most thought he was better than any doctor. A man with a healing touch, but now he was in the opposite bed, a bullet buried deep in his side. There was no way he could help the man she was looking after. This time the healer would need someone with a healing touch of his own. Again she bathed the face and chest, fear clutching at her heart as she listened to the gunslinger's labored breathing.

Inez was busy with the quiet healer. He hadn't moved since they'd brought him to the clinic. She could feel the fever emanating from his body. The angry wound in his side seemed to be swollen and she wondered what kind of damage the bullet caused internally. When the man on the other bed began to cry out, Jackson's eyes opened for the first time. She forced him back on the bed as he labored to sit up. She knew by the unfocused brown eyes he wasn't completely awake, yet somehow he heard the pain filled voice of a friend.

Nathan recognized the cry and knew Chris Larabee was in trouble. He tried to sit up, but found he was too weak to fight the hands that held him down. He turned to see Inez seated beside him. The memories of the encounter with the four men slammed back into his mind, at the same instant the wound in his side rekindled with newfound agony. He gasped and lay back against the pillows. He waited for the blackness to dissolve and slowly turned to the young woman. "C...Chris?"

Inez turned and met Gloria Potter's gaze. A slight shake of the head warned her that things were not good for the blond. She turned back to Nathan Jackson and forced a small smile to her face. "He's o...okay," she stammered fearfully.

"H...how bad?" Jackson asked forcefully.

"He's been shot in the chest," she answered, knowing to lie would only increase the healer's torment.

"B...bullet out?"

"No."

Nathan tried once more to sit up, his right hand held tightly against his wounded side.

"Where do you think you're going, Senor?" Inez asked.

"H...help...Chris," Jackson answered as if that was a given.

"You can't do anything for him. In case you've forgotten you've got a bullet in you as well. Yosemite left a few hours ago to see if he could find Senor Tanner and the others. You have to lie there and wait for their arrival."

"Need to get the bullet out," Jackson ordered.

"I know, Senor, but for now just lie still. Would you like some water?"

"P...please," Jackson drank a few drops and then closed his eyes. "C...Chris drink anything?"

"Not yet," Inez answered.

"Try...g...get h...him drink..." Jackson's voice faded on the last word.

The two women looked at each other, worry and fear mirrored on both faces. Sighing they turned back to the wounded men and prayed the others would arrive soon.

---

Vin pulled Peso to a stop and knew the others did the same. "Rider comin'," he said by way of explanation. "Seems ta be in a hurry." He put his hand on his mare's leg and pulled it from the scabbard. He dropped it back in place as he recognized Yosemite riding towards them.

"Vin, you guys gotta come quick. There's been a shooting in town."

"Shooting? Who?" Wilmington asked fearing the answer, knowing in his heart one of two men were injured. His eyes flared in anger as he heard Yosemite's answer.

"Chris and Nathan," the liveryman answered.

"What? How bad?" Dunne asked.

"Bad. Nathan's got one in the side. Chris took one to the chest. The bullets are still in 'em. Mrs. Potter and Miss Inez are lookin' after 'em, but they don't know how ta take the bullets out."

"How the hell'd they get shot?" Wilmington snarled.

"There'll be enough time for those answers later, Buck, I think we need to go tend to our brothers," Sanchez told him.

"Josiah's right, Buck. Let's ride!" Tanner ordered. Six riders turned and raced towards Four Corners, intent on making it there in time to help the injured men.

---

Inez moved to the door and out onto the landing as she heard the sound of horses. She breathed a sigh of relief as she recognized the six riders. She hurried back inside and looked towards the disheveled woman trying to sooth a trembling Chris Larabee. "It's Senor Tanner and the others," she told her as she made the sign of the cross on her body.

"Thank God," Gloria said as she looked down at the wounded man, placing a hand on the fevered brow. "Helps here, Mr. Larabee."

"H...help? Help T...Tommy. Promised I'd h...help h...him. A...always l...lie. N...never any h...help to a...anyone. A...always...fail," the gunslinger's weak voice whispered.

"You didn't fail, Chris. Tommy's going to be fine and when you're up to it you can help him find his mother." She looked toward the door as five men hurried through. She watched the faces as each man looked from one bed to the other, unsure of which one needed them more.

Vin knew both men were in trouble and he fought against the pain rising in his chest. Chris Larabee was his best friend, a man he'd let into his soul. A man he shared an unseen and unexplained connection with. Someone he thought of as a brother. He stared at the other man. A man he knew possessed a power beyond the realm of most men. Nathan Jackson was a man with a healing touch and now it looked like he was in need of that touch as much as Chris Larabee was. Setting aside his emotions he let his experience take over and he moved into the clinic.

"Josiah, Ezra, check Nathan and see if ya can tell 'ow deep the bullet is. Inez, Mrs. Potter, round up as much ice as ya can. Whiskey too. JD, put Nathan's instrument in that pot of hot water. Buck, help me with Chris." No one questioned Vin Tanner's orders, automatically thinking of him as Chris Larabee's second in command.

Sanchez knelt beside the bed holding the injured healer. He watched as the gambler moved to the other side of the bed. They pulled the blanket down and removed the blood stained bandage. Josiah kept his emotions in check as he noted the slightly swollen entry wound. Blood still seeped from the tiny hole, but Josiah knew any movement would start the bleeding all over again. He touched the tiny hole and carefully prodded it. "Vin, I can get the bullet out. It's deep, but I don't think it hit anything but muscle. He's gonna be hurtin' for quite some time, but I think he's gonna be just fine. Ezra, I'm gonna need you to hold him down."

"Alright, Josiah. JD, use the tongs and get the instruments out fer Josiah. Buck, can ya pass Josiah Nathan's bottle of Laudanum? Josiah, give it ta him if he starts ta wake up." Tanner ordered as he knelt beside the bed holding the fevered body of Chris Larabee. He could hear the others moving around but he only had eyes for the pale blond. He pulled back the thin blanket and lifted the heavy bandage from Larabee's chest. Damn! he silently swore as he noticed the heavy bruising around the man's neck. He prayed it was the cause of Larabee's haggard breathing, because it was something he could deal with by packing ice around it. His main fear was that the breathing problems were coming from a damaged lung. If that was the case his search for the bullet in his friend's chest would probably cause his death. Vin looked up as Wilmington returned.

"How does it look, Vin?" the ladies' man asked in hushed tones.

"It's not good, Buck. The bullets lodged in his chest. I got no idea how deep and his breathing has me worried. There's no blood bubblin' up in his throat or leakin' from his mouth so I don't think it hit his lung."

"Why does his breathing sound so bad?" Tanner pointed to Larabee's throat and Wilmington caught his first sight of the heavy bruising in the shape of a man's fingers. "Son of a bitch. What're we gonna do?"

"I saw Nathan helping a man whose throat was hurtin' 'im by packin' it in ice. He put the ice in a towel and wrapped it around his neck, said it helped with the swellin'. That's 'bout all we can do. I'm prayin' that's what's causin' the harsh breathin', Buck, 'cause there ain't nothin' I can do if it's his lung."

"What do you need me to do?" Wilmington asked as he watched Gloria and Inez return with the ice and whiskey.

"We gotta get the bullet out of 'im. It ain't gonna be easy. I've watched Nathan and I've even helped him when it's a hard one, but I've never done it by myself, least-wise not a serious one like this."

Wilmington heard the worry in the tracker's voice and knew the younger man feared he would kill his best friend. He reached over the injured man and touched the trembling shoulder. "Vin, you know how much Chris Larabee means to me?" Tanner nodded briefly. "Well, I'm trustin' those instincts of yours to pull him through. You're the only chance he's got."

"Buck..."

"Vin, what chance does he have if we don't get the bullet out. If you leave it to me then he's not gonna make it. I know I'm not steady enough to go in there and find the bullet and then take it out. Nathan once told me he thought you had a healing touch. I believed him then and I believe in you now. What do you want me to do?"

Tanner swallowed through the lump in his throat. The thought that Buck Wilmington was trusting him with the life of his best friend drove back his own fears. He sighed heavily and looked towards JD Dunne. He briefly wondered where the two women disappeared to, but didn't have time to voice the question. "JD, bring me the rest of Nathan's instruments," he ordered, saying a silent prayer of thanks that the town gifted the healer with a second set the month before. "How's he doing Josiah?"

Sanchez ignored the question and concentrated on his hands. He heard Standish tell the others that Josiah was going for the bullet. The ex-preacher bit his bottom lip as he sank the probe deeper into the swollen flesh. They'd managed to get Jackson to drink a small amount of Laudanum, but still the healer fought the invasion into his body. "Hold him still, Ezra!" Sanchez ordered, his voice a little harsher than he wanted. He continued with the probe, mentally reminding himself to apologize to the conman when this was all over. His hands were slippery with the healer's blood and he gripped the probe more tightly. "I've got it," he said and grabbed for a second instrument. He sank this one into the wound and quickly extracted the smashed piece of metal. He turned and looked at the face of his friend, glad to see the man was unconscious, but still breathing.

"We need to clean it up and get the bleeding stopped, Ezra," he snapped. "JD, pass me a bottle of whiskey."

Dunne did as he was asked, not once did it enter his mind to be angry at being ordered around. He picked up one of the four bottles of whiskey and passed it to Josiah Sanchez. He turned and looked for Nathan's medical bag, knowing they'd need to stitch the wound.

Buck nodded at Tanner that he was ready. He grasped Larabee's shoulders and held him still.

Vin took a deep breath as he lifted the instrument. He pressed against the tiny opening and watched as Larabee's upper body struggled away from the added torment. "JD, I need ya over 'ere!" he snapped as he pulled the probe back.

The young easterner hurried across the room and knelt beside Buck Wilmington. "What should I do?" he asked.

"Bring me the Laudanum," Tanner ordered. JD hurried to get the medicine and passed it to the sharpshooter. "I got something for ya ta drink, Cowboy," the tracker said, unsure whether Larabee could hear him or not. He watched as Wilmington lifted the head and he poured a small amount of the liquid into the still lips. He was surprised to see Larabee's throat work as he swallowed the vile tasting liquid. He heard Jackson's cry and knew Sanchez was cleaning the wound. He turned his head and met the eyes of the gambler and wasn't surprised to see the tears in the sad green eyes. He nodded and slowly turned back to Chris Larabee. "Alright, boys, lets do this."

"What do you want me to do?" JD asked.

"Hold his waist, Kid!" the ladies' man hissed and was pleased to see the young man get a solid grip on the blond's waist.

Tanner tuned out everything but the job before him. His friend's life rested in his hands and he prayed he wouldn't fail. He looked at his hands, knowing they would soon be covered in Larabee's blood and wondered if he did indeed have a healing touch. He placed the probe at the opening of the wound and steeled himself against the cries he knew he was about to illicit from the injured man. Squaring his shoulders he pressed against the opening. Tears tracked down his face at the pain he was causing, but with grim determination his hand sank the probe deeper. Time stood still for him as he fought to save the life of his friend. He felt the probe come up against the bullet and he knew this would be the hard part. Through it all he knew Buck and JD were there, talking quietly to the gunslinger, soothing him in hopes to keep him with them. Still he ignored everything around him as he pulled the bullet free and the body sank back to the bed. His heart skipped a beat as he listened for the haggard breathing that was a constant since they entered the room. "Chris!" he gasped as he realized there was no sound from the injured man. He heard his cry of alarm echoed by Buck and JD.

"Don't you quit now, Larabee! I got the fuckin' bullet out and that was the hardest part. Now all ya gotta do is let yerself heal. Ya hear me, Chris? Yer not dead until I tell ya yer dead and that ain't gonna be fer a long time yet." he shouted, as he pulled the blond into his arms. Tears glistened on his face as he rocked the lean form in his arms. His eyes met those of the ladies' man and he knew he was feeling the same way. "Ya can't go, Chris."

"N...not g...goin...a...anywhere."

Wilmington, Dunne, and Tanner smiled in relief as the tracker eased the heaving body back on the bed. "Yer damn right 'bout that, C...Cowboy," Tanner's voice broke on the last word. He knew in his heart they'd come close to losing this man they all thought of as indestructible.

Josiah smiled as he turned his attention back to the healer. He continued to stitch the wound together and poured a liberal amount of whiskey over the wound. An almost inaudible gasp escaped from the injured man as the whiskey cleaned the wound. "All done, Brother," Sanchez assured his friend as a pair of brown eyes opened and tried to focus on him.

"J...Josiah?"

The ex-preacher smiled as the eyes finally focused. "That's right, Nathan. How are you feeling?"

"I...I'm fine..."

A hearty laugh escaped from Sanchez at the two words spoken by the healer. He heard the relieved laughter of the others in the room and knew they'd all caught the healer's reply to his question. "You lie about as well as the rest of us, Nathan," Josiah's booming voice resounded through the clinic.

"W...wha's f...funny?" the dark skinned man asked as his eyes drifted closed.

"I'll tell you later, Brother," Sanchez said as he finished bandaging the wound.

Vin stared into the glazed green eyes and knew there was still more pain too come. "Chris I'm gonna have ta clean and stitch that up."

"I...I know," Larabee's voice wheezed through his throat. "W...water."

Buck quickly poured a glass from the jug on the table and placed it in front of his friend's mouth. "Go slow, Pard," he ordered.

The gunslinger tried to swallow the liquid, but his throat wouldn't cooperate. The water barely made it down into his stomach as he turned his head away. "T...throat h...hurts," he rasped and his eyes opened wide. "Tommy, is he alright?"

"Who's Tommy?" the ladies' man asked as Vin retrieved a bottle of whiskey and prepared to clean the vicious looking wound.

"Tommy's f...father's the one w...who shot me. He b...beat the b...boy. Mrs. P...Potter's looking a...after him. P...please, B...Buck, make s...sure he's okay. P...promised him I'd g...get him b...back to h...his m...mother," Larabee wheezed.

"I'll check on him as soon as we finish with you and Nathan."

"N...Nathan...gonna be o...okay?"

"He's gonna be fine," Tanner assured him. "The two of ya are gonna be cell mates 'ere in his clinic for some time ta come though. I've gotta finish this now, Chris." He saw the nod of approval and slowly poured the whiskey over the wound. For the second time in less than half an hour a scream of pain erupted in the clinic. Tanner watched as Larabee's eyes closed and he once more lay still, but this time the raspy breathing assured him his friend remained with them. He stitched the wound, bandaged it, and looked down at his blood stained hands. A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders as he realized this blood would never flow through his friend's body, but there was enough still inside him to insure the man would live to see and fight another day. He stood up, walked to the table, and washed his hands in one of the basins. He looked into the second basin and realized Sanchez must've already cleaned his hands. He looked to the healer and knew Josiah Sanchez, whether he realized it or not, also had a healing touch.

Tanner turned his attention to the deeply bruised neck. He picked up a clean towel and placed ice inside it. He returned to the bed and the still form and gently placed the ice pack around his friend's neck. He sat back in the chair, and rubbed his neck in an effort to ease his aching muscles.

The five healthy men looked up as the door opened and Mrs. Potter and Inez entered the clinic. Both women carried trays laden with food and drinks. On Inez's tray was a pot of steaming coffee. The two women placed the trays on the table and turned towards the men.

"How are they?" Gloria Potter asked worriedly.

"Vin and Josiah got the bullets out," Dunne's excited voice answered.

"They should both be fine if we can keep them resting," Sanchez assured them.

"Well, Gentlemen, that's very good news," Mrs. Potter smiled at the tired looking men. She knew they probably didn't even realize how much time passed since they began the fight to save their two friends. "It's been a long day for all of us. Inez and I made dinner for you. Make sure you all eat. No arguments," she ordered.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Tanner said gratefully. He knew by the rumbling in his stomach that he was hungry. He also knew they'd need to keep their strength in order to look after the two injured peacekeepers. "Can you tell us what happened?" he asked as he accepted a plate of chicken and potatoes from Inez.

"I'll tell you what I know," Mrs. Potter said. She told the tale Nathan Jackson relayed to her on the morning Chris Larabee found Tommy Wilson. Inez filled in the parts Gloria missed, including what she'd witnessed in the saloon. By the time they finished the tale the five peacekeepers knew every detail of the past two days.

By the time night fell over the town the men were seated around the clinic. Josiah knew they needed to work in shifts as he suggested. "We're gonna need to be ready for anything. Chris and Nathan are both showing sign of fevers and we're gonna need to be rested to look after them. Vin, Buck, Ezra, why don't you three go get some sleep. JD and I can look after them for tonight. You can spell us in the morning."

"I'm staying," Buck and Vin said in unison.

Josiah shook his head, already expecting this answer. "Alright, you two have the first shift," he said as he stood up and stretched. He left the clinic, Ezra and JD on his heels.

Buck and Vin looked at each other and settled down to watch over the injured men.

---

For two days both men suffered in the throes of a fever, their friends and other members of the town doing everything they could to cool the two men down.

On the morning of the third day a pair of eyes opened and glanced around the clinic. He coughed and groaned and was grateful when a cup of cool water was placed in front of his lips. He drank greedily and looked into the blue eyes sitting beside him. "T...thanks, Buck."

"You're welcome. How are you feeling?"

"F...fine, I think. How's..."

"He's not doin' well," Wilmington's voice was filled with pain as he turned towards the second bed.

"What's wrong?"

Wilmington knew he revealed too much and placed his hands on the shoulders of the man on the bed. "Lie still. You've just come out of a fever."

"B...Buck, what's wrong with him?"

"He's got some swelling in his throat, Nathan. It's making it hard for him to swallow anything."

"What hap...pened to him?"

"From the looks of the bruises I think Wilson choked him."

"That's why he's hav...ing trouble. A...are you put...ting ice 'round his neck?"

"Vin started doing that as soon as he got the bullet out, but it don't seem to be helping."

"H...help me o...over to him, B...Buck," Jackson tried to sit up, but found two hands firmly pushing him back down.

"No! Now look, Nathan, you're hurt and if you go getting up you'll just start bleeding again. We've got Chris covered. Josiah's looking after him right now." Buck tried to lighten the healer's mood and forced a tiny smile to his face. "Besides I've got something for you to drink. Now open up."

"What is it?"

"You're about to find out why we call this stuff horse piss or skunk juice."

"Dammit, Buck."

"Open up, Nathan," Wilmington helped the healer drink the willow bark tea and watched as tired brown eyes closed in sleep. Buck moved away from bed and stood over Josiah Sanchez. "How's he doing, Josiah?"

"I got him to drink a little water, but it's just not enough, Buck. We need to get the swelling in his throat down in order to get him drinking properly. All we can do right now is keep bathing him and pray."

The two men looked at the pale man on the bed. Tiny beads of perspiration formed on the fevered brow, rolling slowly down his face to drop onto the sweat soaked pillow. Fever spots stood out on the cheeks, evidence that the fever was gaining an even stronger hold on the gunslinger.

Buck Wilmington watched as a tiny droplet fell from a strand of blond hair and felt as if he was watching his friend's life pour out of his body with each new bead that formed.

---

Jackson opened his eyes and once more glanced around the clinic. It was strange for him to be seeing his own place from this angle. He'd been hurt before, but never like this. Never to the point where the pain prevented him from helping one of his friends. He turned his head slightly and glimpsed a buckskin jacket. He knew Vin was worried about the gunslinger, knew the others were doing all they could to keep him alive. He was also sure the sharpshooter would shoulder the responsibility if Chris Larabee succumbed to the injuries and died. The young man would blame himself for not being able to save him. Nathan eased himself up in the bed and bit back a startled cry as he couldn't find the strength to make it all the way up.

"Easy, Nate!" Tanner was beside him in an instant, holding the tiny bottle of Laudanum. He poured some into a spoon and held it to the healer's mouth.

Jackson swallowed the liquid and waited for it to bank the fire burning in his side. His eyes opened once more and lit on the tracker. "Water," he mumbled.

Vin reached for the glass and helped his friend drink.

Jackson finished half the glass and let his head rest against the pillows. "Any change?"

"No. He's still got a fever."

"Dammit! Are you gettin' him to drink anything at all?"

"Small amounts of water and willow bark tea. He's still fightin', Nate, but I...I'm not sure he's got much more fight left in 'im."

"I think we've all thought that, Vin, but Chris has always surprised us before and I'm not giving up on him now. Help me over there so I can take a look at him."

"I don't think so, Nate, ya've got yer own injuries ta think 'bout. Chris wouldn't want you doin' anythin' ta make it worse. Now jest lie there and sleep," Tanner grinned in spite of his worry for the blond gunslinger and the healer.

A sound from across the clinic caught his attention and the tracker turned away. "Stay put, Nate!" he snapped as he heard the healer moving on the bed. He hurried to his friend's side and knelt beside him. "Chris?" he said as he touched the pale forehead. He smiled as he realized there seemed to be less heat coming from the body. He watched as the blond's lips moved slightly. He barely heard the word water and immediately reached for a glass. He lifted the blond head and was relieved as Larabee opened his mouth and sipped tiny amounts. He watched the throat move and knew the swelling must've gone down some as there was none of the usual gagging actions. He watched as dazed, pain-filled green eyes opened and fought to focus.

"That's it, Cowboy, get those eyes workin'"

"V...Vin, w...what happened?"

"You went and got yerself shot. Seems like ya had a bit of a fight too."

Larabee's eyes opened wide and he fought to sit up. Memories came back in a rush and he turned his head towards the opposite side of the clinic. His gaze was met by the healer's and a small smile crept to his lips. "Y...you okay, Nathan?" he rasped.

"I'm fine, Chris. It's you that's had us all worried. How're you feeling?"

"F...fine. Throat and chest hurt..."

"Chris, drink this," Tanner ordered.

Larabee did as he was told and turned an icy glare on his friend as the Laudanum hit his stomach. "D...dammit, Vin!" he hissed as his friend's face lit up in a grin.

"Water, Chris?" Tanner didn't miss a beat as he held a cup to the gunslinger's mouth. Once more he felt relief as the injured man drank from the cup. He looked towards the entrance of the clinic as the door opened and Ezra Standish stepped through carrying a tray of food. He watched as the poker face slipped at the sight of the gunslinger looking at him.

The gambler quickly recovered and his face once more showed little emotion as he spoke. "It's splendid to see you awake again, Mr. Larabee."

"T...thanks, Ez," Larabee muttered tiredly. His eyes closed and opened once more to look into the soulful blue eyes of the tracker. "V...Vin, Tommy okay?" Tanner's eyes lowered almost imperceptibly, yet as weak as he was Chris saw the change. "Vin?"

"The kid's not talkin' ta anyone, Chris."

Larabee tried to sit up, but found his strength to be almost nonexistent. "Dammit!" he cursed his own weakness. "K...kid was b...beaten by h...his f...father, Vin. I p...promised I'd help him get h...home."

"You will, Chris," Tanner assured him as he watched his friend fight to stay awake. "Right now its time fer ya ta get some more sleep. Close yer eyes. If ya feel up ta it when ya wake up we'll bring Tommy ta see ya."

"T...tell 'im s...sorry," the gunslinger mumbled as he surrendered to sleep.

"Mr. Jackson, I think it would be prudent for you to follow Mr. Larabee's example and catch a little sleep as well," Standish suggested.

"N...not tired," Jackson lied.

"Nate, ya'd best 'member them words when one of us says 'em ta ya the next time we're laid up and in yer care," Tanner grinned. He wasn't surprised when the healer's eyes closed and his breathing evened out. He turned back to the blond and slowly removed the towel from around his neck. He smiled as the con man took it from his hands and replaced it with a new one. "Thanks, Ez," he said as he placed the new offering around the gunslinger's neck. He knew the swelling was going down, but wasn't completely gone. For now he'd continue the ice treatments in an effort to make sure there wouldn't be any setbacks. Once he finished placing the towel he stood up and stretched the kinks from his stiff back. "I'm gonna go let others know 'bout Chris wakin' up. Think ya can handle the two of 'em fer a bit, Ez?"

"I assure you I can indeed handle our injured comrades," he smiled as Vin left him alone with the two men. Since becoming part of this unique group he knew what it felt like to have a family. He sighed as he sat at the table and ate his lunch, leaving Tanner's on the tray awaiting his return.

---

Chris opened his eyes and listened to the conversation across the room. He knew they were talking about Tommy and how they'd go about finding his mother when the child wouldn't speak to anyone. He turned his head slightly and looked at the other bed. Nathan Jackson was propped up on pillows, a tray sat on his lap and he seemed to be eating. Josiah Sanchez and Buck Wilmington were talking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the gunslinger. Chris opened his mouth to speak, but little sound escaped his parched throat. He smiled as the ladies' man instinctively turned and hurried over to him.

"It's about time you decided to join us, Stud," Wilmington said, a mischievous smile on his face. He touched the pale brow and laughed as the gunslinger pulled away from his touch. "Just checkin' to make sure your fever hasn't come back," he told his friend.

"I...I'm fine, B...Buck, just t...thirsty."

"Well now that's good news, Chris. I've got some of Nathan's horse piss here and a little bit of broth for you as well." He sat on the edge of the bed and eased his friend up, smiling as the ex-preacher automatically came over and slipped a couple of extra pillows under the injured man. Buck eased the lean form back on the pillows and waited until the blond's breathing eased and the lines of pain diminished somewhat. "Sorry, Pard, I know that wasn't easy."

"G...got that r...right," Larabee gasped as he opened his eyes once more. A cup was placed in front of his face and he reached for it. "I can do it, B...Buck," he hissed.

"I don't doubt it for a minute, Chris, but if you spill it on your bandages we're gonna have to change them again. Do you want that?"

Larabee thought for a few minutes and slowly shook his head. Right now the pain in his chest wasn't too bad, but if his friends messed with it he knew the agony would return. He nodded as Wilmington placed the cup before his lips and slowly sipped from it. "T...thanks," Larabee mumbled as he finished the second cup, this one containing a small amount of tepid broth. A third cup appeared and the blond drank the cool water gratefully. "Buck, how's Tommy?"

"He's okay, Chris. He just refuses to talk to anyone. We can't find out his ma's name and until we do we can't contact her."

"Bring him up here. He'll talk to me," Larabee ordered, but felt his grip on consciousness waning. "Damn, s...so t...tired."

"Go to sleep, Pard. I'll bring Tommy up when you're feeling better."

"Okay," Larabee agreed and was soon sleeping again.

Buck flicked a lock of blond hair off Larabee's forehead and eased one of the pillows out from under him. He turned towards the bed holding the second patient and received a nod of approval from the healer and the ex-preacher. He sighed as he realized both Larabee and Jackson were on the mend, although neither man would be up to moving around for a while yet. He met the ex-preacher's eyes and saw the look of relief mirrored in them. He sat back in his chair and watched as the second injured man joined Larabee in sleep.

---

"I know what I can and can't do, Josiah, now let me up?"

"No! Now quit your complaining and lie there."

"I'm tired of being in bed. I got things to do!"

"Why the hell can't you behave yourself like him," Sanchez asked as he pointed to the second injured man.

"He was hurt worse than I was. You said yourself the wound is healing fine. Hell, it doesn't even hurt anymore," the hiss that left him belied the words and he swore as he heard a weak chuckle from across the room. "Shut up, Chris," Jackson cried indignantly.

"N...now you k...know how it f...feels to be a prisoner in y...your clinic, Nate," Larabee smiled as he turned towards the two men. He improved steadily since he woke the day before and drank the liquids Wilmington fed him. Now he was waiting for Vin Tanner to return with Tommy Wilson. His stomach churned as he remembered the screams from the child when he heard Yosemite telling Larabee the four new men in town. Somehow the kid knew who they were and now it was up to the gunslinger to make sure the boy knew he wasn't alone and wouldn't be hurt anymore. He would find out who the boy's mother was, and where she lived today. Then they'd make sure telegrams were sent as soon as possible. His vow to see the boy reunited with his mother was first and foremost on his mind. One way or the other he'd make sure Tommy Wilson wouldn't be hurt again.

Chris listened as Nathan continued his tirade about wanting out of bed. He knew he'd be doing the same thing as soon as he gained a little more strength. His head swivelled towards the door as it opened and Vin entered. A small boy gripped the sharpshooter's hand and Chris watched the boy's blank face. The small head was bent low as if he was afraid to meet anyone's eyes. Some of the bruises were fading rapidly, but the deeper pain was still on the boys face. He bit back the sorrow filling his heart, knowing it wouldn't help the child before him.

"Hi, Tommy," he greeted and watched as the child's head snapped up. The eyes were filled with fear and something else. Something that tore at Larabee's heart. A deep sadness that should not be seen in a child's eyes, especially one so young as Tommy Wilson.

The small boy pulled his hand from the sharpshooter's and sprinted across the small space. He jumped on the bed before anyone realized what was happening and everyone saw the gunslinger's face blanch as the child landed on the bed beside him.

Larabee bit back a sharp expletive as the small boy's arm wrapped around his chest, his head dropping heavily on the wound. He held up his good hand and warned the others not to do anything, that he was alright. Tanner, Sanchez, and Jackson could see the pain on Larabee's face, but knew there was nothing they could do for now.

"H...hey, Tommy," Larabee forced the tremor from his voice and asked softly. "How are you doing?"

The child's head came up and the small round eyes met Larabee's. "I'm okay. I...I thought y...you were dead, C...Chris," he cried, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

"Didn't I promise you I'd get you back to your Ma?" the head bobbed once and then landed on the bandaged chest. "Well, all we need to know now is where your Ma lives," Larabee told him.

"She lives in a big place called Boston. Our 'ouse is one of the biggest on the street. My Uncle Joe owns it, but he let's us stay there. We got our own rooms," Tommy answered excitedly.

"Do you like it there, Tommy?" Larabee asked, ignoring the growing discomfort in his chest. He knew the wound was bleeding, but didn't want the others to know until they had the information to help the child.

Tommy's head came up again as he answered. "I love it there. Uncle Joe takes me ridin' and swimmin' and there's all kinds of thin's to do. He's real nice to me and my Ma. He don't make ma cry like P...Pa did. Is Pa gonna come take me away agin?"

"No, Tommy, your Pa can't hurt you anymore. We'll send a wire to Boston and let your Ma know you're here. I bet she catches the next stage out here to get you."

"Really?" Tommy asked.

"Really, Son, she'll be here before you know it." Larabee said, biting back a moan as a small fire erupted in his chest.

"Tommy?" The boy lifted his head and looked towards the man who called his name. "Tommy, Chris needs ta get some rest now. Why don't we get ya back ta Mrs. Potter? Aren't ya s'posed ta help her make cookies?"

"But I wanna stay wit' Chris," the boy sniffed as he clung tightly to the injured man.

"It's okay, Tommy, you go with Vin. Mrs. Potter makes the best cookies and I'd love for you to bring me one when you're done," his words brought a smile to the child's face and he knew he'd said the one thing that would get the child to leave him. Somehow Tommy Wilson had adopted him as his protector and Chris wasn't gonna let anything hurt that image.

"Are ya sure ya want me ta go?" Tommy asked.

"It's okay just as long as you come back," Larabee told the boy.

"I will and I'll bring ya some cookies," the child said as he eased off the bed. Vin took him by the hand and led him from the clinic.

Chris waited until the boy was out of sight before giving in to the agony in his chest. His left hand came up and held tightly to the bandages. He felt rather than saw Buck sit beside him on the bed. He didn't open his eyes as nausea threatened to empty his stomach. Through a thick layer of fog that engulfed his mind he heard Wilmington order Jackson to stay put. He felt the pull of darkness as the moustached man pulled back the bandage and swore at the fresh blood seeping from the wound.

"Ah, Hell, Chris," he hissed as Tanner came through the door.

"Nathan, stay where ya are. Buck and me got 'im covered."

"I can help, Vin!"

"Nate, yer always tellin' us ya've got enough ta do wit' one of us 'urt. Well what makes ya think this is any different. Me and buck got 'nough ta do lookin' after Chris wit'out havin' ta worry 'bout what yer doin' ta yer own wound." He saw his words have the desired effect and turned back to the blond. "Buck, how bad is it?"

"I don't think there's any stitches broke but it's bleeding again, Vin, and he's in a lot of pain."

"Alright, let me take a look while ya get 'im some of that Laudanum." The two men switched places and Tanner talked to the injured man. "Hang on, Cowboy, Buck's getting ya some Laudanum."

"S...shit, Vin, seems like my c...chest's on fire 'gain," Larabee hissed through gritted teeth.

"I bet it does, Cowboy," Tanner sympathized as he examined the wound. "It's not too bad. I'm just gonna clean it up a bit and put a clean bandage on it."

"Here you go, Pard," Wilmington held the spoon to Larabee's mouth and watched as the medication disappeared.

"T...thanks," the gunslinger mumbled, but missed Wilmington's answer as he waited for Tanner to finish his ministrations. He felt the sharpshooter's gentle touch and waited for the bandage to be replaced.

"All done, Chris."

He heard the pain in the other man's voice and knew where it was coming from. He opened his eyes and reached out and grasped the sharpshooter's arm. "Vin?" He waited for the blue eyes to rise and meet his. "This was not your fault!"

"I should've 'eld 'im back," Tanner muttered.

"He's a kid, Vin. A little boy and he was excited. You didn't know he would come running to me like he did. You boys have been telling me how quiet and withdrawn he's been. There's no way you could've known he'd pull away from you like that. Dammit, Vin Tanner, you saved my life and I'm forever in your debt. You hear me? You got that bullet outta me and made sure the swelling in my throat went down..."

"W...wasn't just me..." Tanner interrupted. "Buck and the..."

"No way, Vin," Wilmington stopped the tracker. "I don't know that I'd'a been steady enough to get the bullet and I wouldn't have known to pack that ice around Chris's throat. Least not until Nathan was awake enough to tell us. Lord knows that might've been too late."

"Listen to him, Vin. Buck knows what he's talking about," Larabee said as he tried to turn on his side. A small groan escaped as he shifted on the bed, and smiled gratefully as his two friends helped him turn. He felt the blankets lifted over him as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Vin looked at Buck and then glanced towards the second bed. Jackson was seated forward propped up by pillows. He'd watched the men as they cared for Larabee and knew they were doing a fine job. He realized Vin and Josiah were responsible for saving his and the gunslinger's life. He knew the others helped, but from the sound of things it was the ex-preacher and the sharpshooter who deserved a lot of the credit. He sank into his own pillows and fell asleep knowing the five healthy peacekeepers would be there should anything need to be done for him or Chris.

---

The following day found Nathan Jackson sitting in a chair beside Chris Larabee. His own wound was much better and only caused him minor pain. He lifted the bandage and checked Larabee's wound. He knew instantly how close they'd come to losing the gunslinger. The wound was in close proximity to the lung and he knew Tanner must've had nerves of steel to dig for the bullet.

"Well?" Larabee asked, angry that he wasn't being allowed out of the bed when the healer was.

"The wound's doing well, Chris, but if you go moving about it's just gonna open up again."

"Yours isn't," Larabee glared at the other men in the room.

"Mine wasn't as serious as yours Chris. Besides I didn't have a kid jump on me and make it bleed again. Plus Wilson choked you and you were having problems breathing. Vin, Buck, keep him in bed for at least another two days."

"Dammit, Nathan, I'm tired of lying here!"

"Well you're just gonna have to put up with it for a little longer, Chris. Now just be quiet and rest. I'm gonna do the same," Jackson said as he slowly stood up and crossed the room. He was pleased with the way the blond was healing, but he knew from experience once Larabee was out of bed it would be damn near impossible to get him back in it. As he sank onto his own bed he met the gazes of the two men standing between the beds. "You two make sure he don't get up." Jackson relaxed against the soft pillows and felt a blanket pulled up over him. He mumbled thanks as he closed his eyes and slept.

Tanner and Wilmington smiled and nodded as their only response. The ladies' man finished covering the healer with a blanket and smiled at the barely audible response. They'd managed to keep Nathan in bed longer than they thought possible and they knew they'd have an even greater fight with the blond. Now that Jackson was up, Chris Larabee could see no reason why he should have to stay down. They explained how his injuries were compounded with other problems, but the injured man would not be so easily acquiesced. He wanted up and he struggled to do so. The two men moved to either side of the bed and watched as their friend sank back into the pillows in defeat.

"Are you ready to rest now, Pard?" Wilmington asked.

"Shut up, Buck!" Larabee snapped. His hands clenched at his sides as he realized the men were right. Although his mind wanted up, his body was not quite ready.

"There's a little boy outside who wants ta see ya, Chris," Tanner informed his friend. "Do ya feel up ta seein' 'im?"

"Hell, yes, Vin. Why didn't you say so before? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Since he saw ya yesterday he's been talkin' up a storm."

"Did you send the wire?" Larabee asked.

"JD took care of it yesterday. We're just waiting for an answer," Wilmington explained.

The gunslinger nodded and watched as the sharpshooter moved to the door. He smiled as the small boy entered the room. Chris saw a plate in the child's hand and knew what it was. He sat up in the bed and felt Wilmington place a couple of extra pillows behind him. "Are those for me?" the blond asked.

"I made' em 'special for ya, Chris. Mrs. Potter's a real good cook. Not as g...good as Ma, but she makes great cookies," he said as he sat on the edge of the bed. He lifted a cookie and passed it to the injured man.

Larabee smiled as he took the cookie from the small hand. A sudden memory of doing the same thing with Adam caused a small shudder to run through his body.

The motion didn't go undetected as the scoundrel watched the man and the boy. He knew as soon as he saw the look pass over the blond's face that he was thinking of his own son. A shadow swept over his face and he quickly forced it back as he moved towards the bed. "Hey, Tommy, did you bring any for me and Vin?"

"Sure," the boy said as he passed one to the other men.

Larabee was grateful for Buck's timely interruption. He didn't want the child to see how much his touch affected him. He breathed deeply and took a bite of the sugar cookie just as the kid returned to the bed. "Aren't you gonna have one, Tommy?" he asked.

"I had three at Mrs. Potter's. She said I shouldn't 'ave anymore 'cause it might ruin my supper," he said, his eyes downcast.

"Hey, Tommy, Mrs. Potter's right," Chris told him. He lowered his voice and met the boy's eyes. "Just between you and me she's a softie. After you finish eating tell her how great everything was and she'll give you more of those cookies."

"She will?" the boy's eyes lit up conspiratorially.

"She will. Just make sure you eat everything on your plate, okay?"

"Okay, Chris. What about you? Are you gonna eat everything on your plate?"

"Yeah, Chris, I hear Mrs. Potter's making ya up some broth. Are ya gonna give us any lip about eating yer own dinner?"

Larabee glared at the sharpshooter as he finished the last of his cookie.

Wilmington watched as his friend spoke with the boy. He remembered a similar conversation that took place the week before he and Chris left on the last trip before Sarah and Adam were killed. The smell of Sarah's cookies would always be a vivid memory for Buck Wilmington. He fought back the memories, not wanting to remind Chris of the days that would never be again. He slipped out of the clinic and let his grief manifest itself as tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. Chris Larabee might've only been a father for a few years, but in those years he'd proven beyond a doubt he was a natural. He wiped the tears from his face and turned back to the clinic. He entered just in time to hear Tommy telling Chris that he'd eat all his supper if Chris ate all of his. He smiled at Larabee, knowing the gunslinger was trapped and he'd do anything the child asked.

---

Chris Larabee sat on the landing overlooking the street. Nathan Jackson was seated in a chair opposite him. Both men were under orders not to move from the spot they'd been deposited in. They were both watching the children playing below. Tommy Wilson's battered features were quickly returning to normal, a slight bruise the only sign of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father.

Chris and Josiah explained to the child that his father was dead and would not be coming back and the boy's heart seemed to have lightened tremendously. He didn't show any signs of remorse and for this Chris was glad. A child deserved to live without fear and now Tommy Wilson had that chance. The child was content and settled in with Gloria Potter. The woman was treating him as one of her own and the child was regaining a zest for life only seen in small children who knew there was nothing for them to fear.

In the week since the shooting happened the child grew closer and closer to Chris Larabee and the gunslinger realized his own feelings ran deep for the boy. He gazed at the wire JD passed him earlier in the day. It was from Sarah Wilson and Chris knew his time with the child was growing short. The woman was leaving immediately to come for her child. Chris could tell by the wording that she loved Tommy and was relieved the child was safe. She would be arriving in Four Corners in two weeks. He sighed as his shoulders slumped, knowing how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to another boy. In this case the child was going home to a happy family and not lost to life forever.

"You look tired, Chris," Jackson observed, as he sat straighter in his chair. He knew what the wire said and he knew how hard this was on the blond.

"Tired, Nathan, yeah, I am."

The healer's eyebrows shot up as he heard the dejected admission. He knew Larabee's tiredness had little if anything to do with his body. This tiredness was more from the mind. The gunslinger had grown close to the boy and now he would have to say goodbye to him once his mother arrived. "When are you gonna tell him?" the former slave asked.

"This evening when he comes to the clinic." The boy was becoming a frequent visitor to the clinic, spending as much time as he could with Chris. The blond enjoyed every minute of it and wouldn't trade it for anything. He smiled as Tommy hurried up the stairs towards him.

"Hi, Chris. Hi Nathan," he said breathlessly. "Did you see how far I threw the ball?"

"I did, Tommy. I don't think I've ever seen anyone throw one that far. You really gave Buck a workout. I think he's still running." Larabee ruffled the boy's hair.

"Ah, Chris, I hate that."

"Hate what?" the gunslinger asked.

"Hate when ya mess my hair."

"Why's that," Larabee asked curiously.

"'Cause when ya do it Mrs. Potter says she's gotta fix it. I hate it when she combs it."

Larabee leaned closer to the child and whispered. "To tell you the truth, Tommy, I hate having my hair brushed too."

"Brushin' hair is for the girls," Tommy grinned at his friends.

"Tommy?"

"It sounds like Mrs. Potter's looking for you," Jackson said.

"Ah, Chris, she says I need to take a bath," the boys speech improved over the few days since he began speaking again. "I don't have to, do I? I mean baths are for girls. Men don't take baths and we men gotta stick together. Right, Chris?"

"We men do have to stick together, Tommy, but in this case Mrs. Potter's right. If she says you need a bath then you'd better do as she says."

"Ah, Chris, baths ain't good for boys," the child said as he dropped his eyes.

"Tommy, do you like Mrs. Potter?"

"Course I do."

"Do you think she'd do anything that was bad for you?"

"Nah, Chris, she wouldn't hurt no one. She's a real nice lady."

"Tommy?"

Larabee heard footsteps on the stairs and knew the woman was on her way up. "You be good for her, Tommy, and I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay, Chris," the boy agreed as he walked towards the woman.

"There you are, Tommy. Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"Yes. Ma'am," Tommy answered, a smile forming on his face. "I was just hiding."

"Hiding from me? Why?"

"Cause I didn't want no bath."

"But he's going to now. Aren't you, Tommy?"

"Yes, Chris," he wrapped his arms around Larabee's neck and whispered softly. "I like baths, Chris, but don't tell nobody, okay?"

"I won't Tommy. Now you go with Mrs. Potter." He smiled as the child followed the woman down the stairs.

"You're good with him, Chris," Jackson said softly.

"He's a good boy, Nathan."

"Yes he is, and you're a good man for taking him under your wing."

"I've only done what any of you would do."

"The difference is Tommy wouldn't talk to anyone but you."

Larabee leaned his head back against the chair. His body was tired as well now. He levered himself up from the chair and gritted his teeth against the twinge of pain from the wound in his chest.

"Chris, maybe you should wait until one of the others come to help you?"

"I'm just going in to lie down, Nathan. It's not that far."

"Chris, this is your first day out of bed."

"I'll be careful, Nathan," Larabee grinned as he walked slowly into the clinic. Once inside the door he let it slide closed and leaned heavily into it. His mind wondered back to a similar scene with Adam. One where the boy didn't want to take a bath and Sarah was searching for him. Chris talked to Adam in much the same way he just talked to Tommy. The similarities between the boys went beyond just the age. The two seemed to share the same joy for games and, he laughed as he thought, baths.

He staggered towards the bed and lowered himself onto it. He eased out of his boots and lay back. He slowly drifted towards sleep, a vision of two little boys vying for attention in his dreams. A sleepy smile covered his face as he realized he was seeing scenes that meant more to him than life itself.

When Vin looked in fifteen minutes later he knew his friend was asleep. He silently walked across the floor and eased his legs up on the bed, covering the sleeping man with a blanket.

---

It was three weeks later that seven men, two women, and one slightly nervous little boy watched as the private stage came slowly down the center of town. Tommy's uncle hired the coach as soon as he heard the boy was found. Sarah Wilson would be traveling with an escort also hired by the boy's wealthy uncle. They'd wired Four Corners and informed them they would be arriving as soon as arrangements were made.

Tommy clung to the black clad leg with both arms. He was excited about seeing his mother again, but he didn't want to say goodbye to these people, especially Chris Larabee. A soft sob escaped from him and he felt the peacekeeper lower himself to his knees.

"It's okay, Tommy."

"I'll miss you, Chris," the boy let the tears fall as he wrapped his arms around the dark clad form and clung to the gunslinger's neck.

"I'll miss you too, Tommy, but remember what we talked about?"

The boy released his hold and swiped at the tears streaming from his eyes. "You said I had to be strong. That my Ma needs me," he sobbed.

"That's right. Your Ma's been real worried about you, Son. She's been looking for you everywhere since you disappeared. She loves you very much."

"I know," the small voice whispered as he watched the stage come to a stop. "My Ma never hurt me. Only my P...pa did."

"Well your Pa won't hurt you anymore, Tommy. When you go home you won't have to worry about anyone hurting you anymore. You'll be able to go to school and play with lots of other children."

"Will I have to take baths?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I guess that's the only bad thing," the child grinned and turned towards the stage.

Larabee heard the soft gasp and felt the excitement emanating from the boy he'd grown to care for.

"Ma!" the boy's voice cried out as he ran towards the woman who stepped from the stage.

There was no doubt in his mind who the woman was. Her hair was the same color as Tommy's and hung in curls down her back. She was approximately five and a half feet tall and very slim. Chris watched as she picked up the child, fighting back the jealousy he felt building in his mind. He knew it was wrong, knew the boy was where he belonged, yet he felt he was losing a child all over again. He turned away and started towards the saloon, ignoring the six men standing with him. This hurt more than he ever imagined. In the month since the boy ran into his path they'd forged a bond far beyond any he ever thought possible. A small voice stopped him in his tracks and he turned back to find the child hurrying towards him, dragging the pretty woman with him.

"Chris, this is my Ma. She wants to meet you."

Larabee smiled and tipped his hat. "Ma'am," he said softly.

"I want to thank you, Mr. Larabee. You don't know how much Tommy means to me!"

"Actually, Ma'am, I do," he told her. "He's a good boy and you should be proud of him."

"I am. Tommy, why don't you go say goodbye to the others," she suggested and waited for the boy to move out of earshot. She held the steady gaze of the gunslinger and spoke softly. "I was so scared when his f...father took him away, Mr. Larabee," she explained as tears formed in her dark eyes. "Do you have any children of your own?" She saw the troubled look come into the sad green eyes and knew she'd hit on something he wanted to keep to himself. "You don't have to answer that. I can tell you did and I can tell you lost them. I won't ask you how or why. I'll just assure you that Tommy is well loved and he'll be safe and happy with me. I won't let anything happen to him. He's my life, Mr. Larabee. Do you understand that?"

"I do, Ma'am. More than you'll ever know. You just make sure you tell him you love him and thank God for every minute you get to spend with him," Larabee said, turning away so she wouldn't see the pain those words caused him.

"Are you going to say goodbye to him?"

Larabee nodded and walked to the group of people saying goodbye to the boy. He waited for the others to finish and knelt once more in front of him. In the background he could see Yosemite helping the driver change the horses. He knew the family needed to leave immediately if they expected to make the connection with the train that would take them back to Boston. This was goodbye, one he knew would be hard on him, but at least he knew the child was alive and would be well loved and cared for.

"Tommy!"

The boy sniffed, fighting back the tears forming in his eyes. He wanted to be strong and show Chris he was a man. His small body shook with his effort and finally, with a great hiccupping gasp he wrapped his arms around the lean gunslinger and let the tears fall.

"I...I'm g...gonna miss you so m...much, C...Chris," he sobbed,

Larabee held him close and ran his hand through the thick head of hair. He could smell the soap Gloria Potter used on him when she bathed him earlier and he pressed his lips to the boy's forehead. "I'm gonna miss you too, Tommy, but someday we'll see each other again. Until then your Ma needs you to take care of her. Are you man enough for the job?"

"I...I am!" the boy exclaimed, his arms once more encircling the gunslinger's lean form.

"I knew you were, Son. I never doubted it for a minute."

Sarah Wilson wiped the moisture from her eyes, knowing in her heart the man holding her son would make a perfect father if given the chance. She looked towards the coach as the driver climbed back onto the seat. She wished she had more time to spend with the man who meant so much to her son, but they needed to make the train. She had a job starting at the end of the month and it was a chance she wanted to take. A new life for her and Tommy, one in which she could support them both with ease. Her brother was more than generous, but she needed to prove to herself that she could care for her son.

"Tommy, we have to go," Sarah whispered.

Larabee stood away from the boy, fighting the urge to lift him into his arms and keep the child with him. He knew Tommy needed his mother and he wouldn't stand in the way. "You're the man in your family now, Son, so you've got a big job ahead of you. Now let's get rid of them tears and show your Ma just how big a man she's got."

Tommy's head came up and his hands swiped at the tears. His tiny chest pushed out and a proud look came over the small face. The soft eyes looked up at the tall man standing in front of him and he spoke in a little boy's voice. "I'll take care of my Ma, Chris, if you'll take care of Vin and the rest of your family. They need you to lead them. I love you, Chris, I wish you were my Pa." The child turned and ran towards the stage before Larabee could find his voice.

Men and women alike heard the admiration in the boy's voice and fought back their own emotions. They watched as the black clad man turned away from the coach.

As the coach headed out of town Chris turned on his heels and headed for the saloon. He knew the others were following him and right now he was glad of their company. The boy's declaration was one he hadn't expected, yet, although it hurt, it also told the gunslinger he'd done his best with the child. The last week of fishing and riding were perfect and Chris felt what it was like to be a father again. In his heart and mind Sarah and Adam were clear once more and he knew that their memories would never fade again. He smiled as he realized beyond a doubt that Tommy Wilson was his own healing touch. The child's words were just what he needed to hear.

He entered the saloon and moved to the back table. He sat down and watched as the others entered one after the other. Each man taking a seat around him. He met their eyes before coming to rest on the ladies' man.

"Are you alright, Chris?"

"I am now, Buck," he said and knew it was true. He really was alright and as long as he held his family close in his heart, both the ones that were far away from him and the ones that were near, he would never be alone again.

THE END