Thanks to Kay for asking me to write a story for the zine...it just didn't want to quit. Thanks as always to Marti and Antoinette for the wonderful beta job. You guys have been great. Feedback is welcome, flames are quickly extinguished.

---

Prologue:

Buck smiled as he saw the beautiful redhead walking toward him. They'd been seeing each other for a month now and tonight would be something special. Angela Tate was twenty-two, fully developed in all the right places, with green eyes flecked with gold. Tonight they were meeting Chris Larabee for dinner and Buck was going to ask her to marry him. His stomach was in knots as she closed the short distance and he picked her up in his arms.

"Oh, Buck, I missed you so much."

"Angela, it's only been four hours," he said as he breathed against her neck.

"I know, Buck, but every minute I have to spend away from you is agonizing. I want to be with you all the time."

"Me too, Darlin'. So are you ready to meet Chris?"

"I don't know, Buck, I'd rather just spend time with you...alone...if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I do, Darlin', but I really want you to meet Chris. He's my best friend..."

"I thought I was your best friend?"

"You are...my best lady friend...there's a big difference. Come on we'll have dinner with Chris and then we'll make our way out to Lover's Landing," Wilmington suggested seductively. They'd been there several times, but hadn't made love and Buck knew he wouldn't make that kind of advance on her until she made the first move.

"All right, but after dinner you're all mine," Angela told him as she allowed him to kiss her passionately.

"Angela, I'm already yours," Wilmington said, as they linked arms and strode towards the Midfield Hotel and Restaurant.

Midfield was a fair sized town for the Midwest and the restaurant and hotel were well known across the territory as being one of the best west of Boston. The jail was situated at the south end of the town, the livery across from the jail, and a fair sized mercantile was situated in the center of the north side of the street. There was a small church that was always packed to capacity for Sunday service and it also served as a place for town meetings. There was a telegraph and post office in the building next to the hotel and a boarding house was set to the right of the telegraph office.

Buck smiled as he pushed open the door to the restaurant and spotted his friend seated at a table near the window. The sun glinted off the blond head and he could tell Chris had taken a bath and cleaned himself up for this meeting. The gentle ladies' man was proud of the woman holding his arm and he wanted Larabee to like her. A slight tug on his arm stopped his forward momentum and he turned to look at his beautiful companion.

"What's wrong, Angela?"

"Are you sure you want me to meet him, Buck, he looks kind of scary?"

"That's just Chris, Honey. He's kind of rough around the edges being from Indiana and all, but don't let that fool you. He's a good friend and he knows how much I care for you. You'll like him and he'll like you, but don't you go falling in love with him or I just might get ugly."

"Oh, Buck, how could I fall in love with anyone when they disappear as soon as I see you?" Angela asked coyly.

"Now that's music to my ears. So, do you think you can face him?"

"As long as you hold me tight," the woman said and gripped his arm before they walked towards the man seated at the table.

Chris had noticed them as soon as they entered the restaurant, but did not let on that he'd seen them. Angela Tate was even more beautiful than Buck had described and Chris thought she was someone he might have taken a chance on if his friend had not already laid claim to her. He saw the duo stop and the redhead turn towards Wilmington and briefly wondered what she was saying. Something about her movements spoke of a seduction and Chris wondered if she was as innocent as Wilmington believed her to be. He stood up as the two people began moving towards his table once more.

"Chris, I'd like you to meet Angela Tate, the most beautiful enchantress in the territory."

"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," Larabee said as he tipped his hat and held the chair for her.

"Oh my, thank you. Buck told me you were well mannered, but I think he was wrong. I think, Mr. Larabee, that you are a charmer."

"Hey, you ol' war dog, that's my girl you're sparking there."

"I'm not sparking her, Buck, but only because she's your date. Would you like a glass of wine, Miss. Tate?"

"Yes, please, Mr. Larabee."

"Call me Chris..."

"Only if you call me Angela."

"Done," Chris said and sat down. He motioned for the waiter to come over and ordered a glass of red wine for the young woman and whiskey for himself and Buck. The waiter brought menus before leaving to get the drinks.

"Chris, Buck tells me you want to breed stallions," Angela said, blushing as she realized what she'd said.

"Well, yes, I guess you could say that. Horses are beautiful animals and if treated properly they can be a man's best friend," Larabee told her.

"Me and Chris are thinking about starting a place just north of here. Figure we'd start off with a couple of purebreds and work our way from there."

"Oh, that sounds so exciting. What about a house?" Angela asked as the waiter returned with their drinks.

"We've already started building one, but it's going to be small to start with," Wilmington explained. "We're going to need a big barn to stable the horses and then we'll need to finish the corral before we concentrate on the house, but it'll be big enough for our needs."

"Sure will," Larabee agreed. He had a feeling Wilmington was leading up to something and sat back to let the other man talk.

"Angela," Wilmington said, reaching for the white-gloved hand.

"Yes, Buck."

"Will you," the mustached man sank to one knee and took her hands in his as he looked into her green alluring eyes, "marry me?"

"Oh, Buck, I...I..."

"Please, Darlin', there's no one I'd rather spend my life with and I promise to do everything in my power to make you happy and give you the world on a gold platter if that's what it'll take," Wilmington told her.

"Oh, Buck, I don't know what to say..."

"I think you'd best say yes before Buck stops breathing for good," Larabee said, a slight smile gracing his handsome features.

"Yes, Buck, oh yes," she said and laughed as he stood up, whooped loudly, threw his hat in the air, and finally picked her up in his strong arms. "She said yes!"

The small crowd in the restaurant had been quietly watching the three people by the window and smiled as the man made his announcement. The promise of happiness hung in the air, but there was also a harbinger of regret lurking nearby.

---

Four Corners

"Buck, watch out!" Dunne shouted as Wilmington walked haphazardly across the street. The young sheriff breathed a sigh of relief as the passing wagon veered away before hitting the unwavering figure. He hurried after the older man and grabbed his arm before moving in front of him. "What the hell's the matter with you, Buck?"

"Huh, what?"

"You could have been killed. What's wrong with you?"

Wilmington saw the wagon making its way towards the end of town and knew he'd been in a world of his own. He looked down at the paper held tightly in his hand and took another step towards the saloon where Larabee and Tanner were sure to be found. Without a word to Dunne he continued on with a determined gait.

"Buck, what's going on?"

"Nothin', Kid, just gotta see Chris."

"Why? What was in that telegram? Is it about Ella Gaines?"

"Ella Gaines? No...not about her."

"You sure...you're awful pale, Buck, maybe you should go see Nathan."

"Don't need Nathan, Kid," Wilmington said as he reached the saloon and pushed through the batwing doors. He scanned the dim interior until he spotted the two men at the back of the saloon. Both sat with their backs to the wall in an effort to watch everything that was going on. This position had saved them all more than once and he knew it was the easiest way to defend each other. Without a word Buck made his way to the back and slumped into the chair across from Chris Larabee.

"Buck, you look like you've seen a ghost," Larabee said softly.

"Maybe not seen one, Chris, but I heard from one."

"You're not making sense, Buck," Larabee said as Dunne sat next to Tanner.

"Here," Wilmington said and handed his long time friend the telegram.

Chris read the words quickly and took a breath of air before meeting the other man's eyes once more. "Angela?"

"Yeah, I need to see her, Chris. I need to know why she left."

"When are you going?" Larabee asked.

"Was thinking I'd leave tomorrow."

"Want some company?"

"Hell yeah, you know I do! It's just, well, you know what I was like after she left."

Larabee rubbed his chin as if remembering all too well his encounter with a straight razor. Chris regretted using the same form of terror on Buck the day he'd found out the rogue was talking about his own private affairs.

"Yeah, I remember, but it seems to me payback's a bitch. So, are you sure you want to see her again?"

"I have to, Chris. I need to know why she left like she did."

"All right, Buck, we leave in the morning."

"Need any of us to come along?" Dunne asked.

"No, Kid, I think me and Chris can handle this. You boys will need to make up for our absence," Wilmington said.

"Are you gonna send a reply?" Larabee asked, feeling the buckskin clad body tense up beside him.

"Yeah, figure I'd better...just in case she's got company," Wilmington said and accepted the drink Larabee slid across to him.

"Ya gonna tell us about her, Buck?" Dunne asked.

"No, I'm not, Kid. Right now I'm going for a ride. See you boys later."

"All right, Buck, just be careful," Larabee warned and watched the other man leave.

"Who was she, Chris?" Dunne asked.

"That's something you need to ask Buck, JD, but I'd leave him alone right now. Vin, think you boys can handle this place on your own?"

"Hell, Chris, the way it's been lately we could all go and leave the town ta watch the grass grow. Ain't much happenin'."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Larabee said and leaned his chair back once more. The town had been unnaturally quiet of late and the peacekeepers were taking advantage of it. He could feel JD watching him and sensed that the younger man was not ready to give up, but there would be no answers forthcoming from him.

"JD, seen Casey lately?" Tanner asked.

"Yeah, we went fishing out at the creek and..."

"She throw ya in ag'in?" the Texan asked with a grin.

"Ain't never thrown me in, Vin. She got lucky that one time when I wasn't expecting it, but I'm ready for her now."

"Don't bet on it, Kid, ladies have a way of surprising you when you least expect it," Larabee said from under his hat.

"I know how to handle Casey," Dunne stated with a little too much certainty.

"Oh, Kid, are ya in fer a rude awakenin'," Tanner told him.

"What's that mean."

"Ain't gonna tell ya. Casey'll letcha know when ya make a mistake!" the Texan advised as he poured a shot of whiskey into his glass. He knew the younger man had serious feelings for Casey Wells, and they all loved to tease him when they had the chance.

"Casey's really something, Vin. I thought all girls were afraid to put worms on a hook, but she does it and don't get all squeaky about doin' it."

"Good thing, Kid, otherwise ya might never catch anythin'," Tanner teased and smiled at the sheriff.

"I catch lots of fish!"

"Sure ya do, but who puts the worms on the hook, JD?"

"I put my own dang worm on the hooks, Vin!"

"I's jest teasin' ya, JD. Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' squeamish."

"With bein' what?"

"Squeamish..."

"Vin, you've been hangin around with Ezra too much," Larabee said.

He'd heard the conversation but his mind was on the past. Angela Tate was a real beauty and she'd stolen Buck Wilmington's heart. Could they get past the missing years and find happiness again, or was she the conniving bitch he thought she was. He remembered the last time he'd talked to Buck about her and how they'd nearly killed each other in the ensuing fight. Now it seemed she was back and she was setting her eyes on the ladies' man. No matter what Buck said, Chris Larabee would have followed him in order to protect him from his own weakness, and he was glad that Buck wanted him to come along. Standing, he quickly nodded to his two friends before making his way towards the doors. There were arrangements to be made and he'd make sure everything was ready for their departure once the sun came up.

---

Chris watched his friend closely as Buck saddled his big bay and tightened the cinch. It was evident that Wilmington hadn't slept well and Chris knew he would probably have sleepless nights until he confronted Angela Tate and his feelings for her. He knew what love was, had experienced it with Sarah and knew no matter what others said; the feelings could not be squashed. Buck had loved Angela Tate with everything he had and everything he was. Wilmington's reputation as a ladies' man stemmed from Tate's betrayal and his need to keep the women in his life at arm's length. Oh he'd sleep with them and respect them, but he never let anyone close again.

"Buck, are you sure you want to do this?" Larabee asked.

"No...no, Chris, I'm not, but I have to. I have to ask her why, you know. That's all I want to know is why she left like that."

"I understand, Buck, I just don't want to see you hurt again."

"Hurt! Chris, nothing ever hurt like that. I need to ask her why and then I'm going to come back here and buy the biggest bottle of red eye and forget Angela Tate ever existed or else I'm going to take her in my arms and show her what a stupid mistake she made."

"Tough decision," Larabee said with a cocky grin as he tried to lighten the rogue's somber mood.

"Yeah, but either way I'm glad you'll be there to watch my back or..."

"Kick your ass if I think you need it."

"Knew I could count on you, Chris. Are ya ready?"

"Yep, are you?"

"No, but that's not gonna stop me. Let's ride."

Chris followed the other man and knew the trip they were undertaking would bring closure to a part of their lives that neither talked much about. Buck had gone through hell after Angela left him and Chris thought he'd lost him more than once, but one day Wilmington had woken up and turned away from the anger and depression. They'd started the horse breeding ranch soon afterwards, but not in Midfield as they'd planned. Things had changed not long after they left Midfield and Chris met a young Irish woman and fallen head over heels in love. History seemed to repeat itself, but in a harsher way than what happened to Wilmington. Larabee had lost not just his wife, but his son as well in a fire set by Ella Gaines. The woman was still out there, somewhere and sometimes Chris felt as if the wanderlust would grab him and again he would seek her out and strangle her with his own hands.

Chris spotted Vin Tanner as the Texan returned from his patrol of the area to the south and knew the younger man would work with the others to keep things quiet and orderly in Four Corners. It would take him and Buck five days to reach their destination and Chris knew they would talk of old times when the nights grew chilly and darkness overtook the land.

---

"He's coming," Angela said, smiling at the woman seated at the table.

"Are you sure," Rosemary Clark asked.

"Oh, yes, I have his telegram and he's on his way here now. Oh, Rosie, it'll be so good to see him again. Do you think he still loves me?"

"What's not to love, Angela. You're still as beautiful as you ever were. Any man in his right mind would fall in love with you."

"Thank you, Rosie, I hope you're right."

"Is that other man coming with him?"

"I'm afraid so, but I don't think he'll be a problem. Buck and I fell in love back then and even Chris Larabee knew that. He may not have totally approved of me, but he would have done anything to make his friend happy."

"Are you sure you still love this man?"

"I hope so, Rosie. When I think of Buck my stomach feels like it's full of butterflies. He's everything a woman could want and I want him!" Angela said as she paced in front of the big window overlooking the front yard of her home.

"I know you want him, Angela, but there's a difference between wanting and loving someone. I mean I wanted Joseph, but do I love him? No...no I don't, but he belongs to me."

"And Buck Wilmington belongs to me, Rosie. Mark my words, Buck and I will be married as soon as he gets here."

"What makes you so sure he's not already married?"

"He would have said something in the wire, but he didn't. He just said he's on his way."

"Are you going to tell him you've been married?"

"I'll have to tell him about Robert, but there's no point in bringing Joseph and Brian into it. That's all in the past and he doesn't need to know about them or how they died," Angela turned towards her friend and smiled at the look on the woman's face. Rosemary Clark knew about her past, knew about her husbands and most of all knew how they died, yet she could not turn her in, because Rosemary had supplied the poison that put them into the ground.

"What about Larabee?"

"If he gets in the way I'll simply turn him over to you, Rosie. Think you can handle him?"

"Do you even have to ask, Angela? I've handled your 'problems' for years without a problem, haven't I?'

"Oh, yes, and I must say you're very neat about your work. The undertaker was very impressed with your generosity. Now, why don't we get the guest rooms ready before you go home?" The two women laughed as they made their way up the staircase, but the laughter was cold and held little mirth.

---

The first day on the trail passed with both men riding along in silence. Buck continued to relive the past as the beauty who'd captured his heart took control of his feelings once more. He knew a lot of time had passed since he'd seen Angela Tate, but something told him her beauty was as ageless as the sun hanging high in the sky. He'd often thought of her over the years and wondered what could have made her leave without so much as a goodbye. Their wedding day had dawned with such promise, the hangover dissipating before it had a chance to take hold. He'd danced across the floor and yelled at Larabee to wake up and smell the roses and Chris had told him to shut up or he'd make him eat the roses, thorns and all. He heard Pony come up beside him and turned to his friend.

"Buck, it's getting late. There's a creek up ahead."

"You wanna make camp?"

"Might as well. We've made a few miles today."

"All right, Pard, show me the way," Wilmington said and rode alongside his friend. It didn't take long to reach the creek and the two men quickly set up camp for the night. Buck quickly set out the bedrolls while Chris warmed a pan of bacon and beans. The coffee was strong and hot as he poured it into two cups and added a dollop of whiskey to each one.

"Thanks," Wilmington said as he sat on his bedroll and sipped the hardy liquid. "Nice touch, you always did make the best trail coffee."

"Figured it'd help us both sleep. No one's following us and I don't think any animals will bother us if we keep the fire going. Not much point in losing sleep for now," Larabee said as he dished up the food on two tin plates and passed one to his companion.

"Thanks...this brings back memories."

"Yes, it does," Larabee agreed leaning against a large boulder behind him.

"Remember the nights we used to ride down to Purgatorio after...after Angela disappeared?"

"I remember. We rode hard..."

"Not just the horses," Wilmington said with a grin.

"Never was one to go slow, Buck. I think a lot of them Mexican mamas hid their young women when they heard your war cry."

"Wasn't a war cry, Chris, was a love cry and them mamas were probably right to hide the innocent ones, but there were a lot of ladies who were happy to see us."

"Yes, there were. Remember the blond who came charging into our room that first night in town?"

"Booby?"

"That's what you kept calling her, but I think her real name was Bobbie."

"Don't matter what her name was, she was damn fine to look at."

"Sure was," Larabee said with a cocky grin.

"Hey, what happened after I passed out anyway? Was she disappointed?"

"Far from it," the blond said and toasted the other man with his coffee mug.

"You didn't? Why you sly fox. Booby was my date..."

"She was, but since you weren't up to it she just kind of..." Larabee couldn't help chuckling as Wilmington tried to look indignant. "It's okay, Buck, she didn't go away unappreciated. Woman was a bit of an exhibitionist."

"Sonofabitch! All this time I thought you were my friend!"

"I am, just did what any friend would do. More coffee?"

"No, but I'll take some of that whiskey you're so damn tight with!"

"Better watch it, Buck, seems I'm the only saloon in the area," Larabee said pouring the strong libation in both mugs. He took the empty plates and cleaned them off before settling back on his bedroll. The moon was shining brightly overhead as he added more wood to the fire and pulled the thin blanket up over his body. He looked across the fire and noticed that Wilmington seemed to be sleeping, the empty coffee mug hanging from his fingers. Settling back he closed his eyes and thought about the strange friendship he had with the other man.

---

Three days later the two friends drew to a stop several miles south of Midfield. They could have rode on through the encroaching darkness, but neither man wanted to take a chance on the horses taking a wrong step and landing in a gopher hole. Buck was growing increasingly impatient, but he knew there was no choice. The horses needed rest and so did their riders whether they admitted it or not.

The water hole was just that...a hole with very little water, but enough so both men could fill their canteens, but not enough to bathe in. Chris took care of the horses, ground tying them close to the water's edge and making sure there was plenty of grass for them to feed on. He watched as Buck worked at getting the camp set up and knew his friend was thinking about the woman waiting for him at the end of this trip.

"Chris, beans or," the ladies' man grinned as he spoke. "Beans?"

"How about...hard choice their Pard, but I think I'll take the beans," Larabee answered in the same easy-going voice his friend used.

"Any more of your special brand of coffee?" Wilmington asked.

"Yep, had it refilled in that little burg we passed through earlier."

"Little burg? There were only four buildings in the place. Ain't nothing changed about that place since the last time we rode through there."

"Nope, 'cept maybe the whole place should be condemned," Larabee told him. "Nothing wrong with the Red Eye though."

"Know whatcha mean," Wilmington said handing Larabee a plate and accepting a cup of 'coffee'. The two men settled down for the night and enjoyed the simple meal. By the time they cleaned up and added more wood to the fire, fatigue had taken over and a small groan escaped Buck's throat.

"Good thing Vin and JD are not here."

"Why?" the ladies' man asked.

"What would those two say about you moaning and groaning after a days' riding?"

"Ah, hell, can hear 'em both now...'gettin' old Bucklin'."

"Be lucky if they don't bring you one of those shawls Nettie Wells makes."

"You tell them and I'll just have to pull a Larabee on you."

"A what?" Chris asked as he watched the twinkling stars high overhead.

"A Larabee! You know one of those I'll just have to shoot ya!"

"Very funny, Pard. Go to sleep!" Larabee lit a cheroot and inhaled the smoke, exhaling slowly as he relaxed against the saddlebag he used as a pillow. He knew tomorrow was a day Buck was looking forward to, but something about Angela Tate had never set well with him. The woman seemed superficial, but there was nothing he could do except be there and look out for his friend.

"Chris, what do you think she's like now?"

"Who?" Larabee asked softly, knowing full well 'who' Wilmington was talking about.

"Angela. Do you think she's changed?"

"We all change, Buck, and it's been a lot of years since we saw her."

"I bet she's still beautiful. I bet her hair is still that same shade of fiery red and her eyes the color of the turbulent sea."

"You sound like a man in love, Buck," Larabee said.

"I am...I was. I don't know, Chris. I just know I need to see her again and maybe I'll have the answers I need."

"What will you do if you still love her, Buck?"

"I don't know...marry her I guess. Maybe. Won't know until I see her again, Chris."

"Just don't jump in with both feet, Buck. If you get there and feel like you're in love then step back and give yourself time to make sure it's real and not leftover feelings from long ago. I just don't want to see you make a mistake."

"I know, Chris, and that's why I'm glad you agreed to come with me. Remember the first time I cold-cocked you?"

"How could I forget? Stopped me from making the worst mistake of my life. That woman had something against Sarah."

"Yeah, she did and she was using you as payback. The bitch had you pretty done in when I got there. Thought I was too late when you waved the gun around," Wilmington said softly.

"You saved me from making a big mistake, Buck, and for that I'm grateful. My jaw wasn't at the time, but at least it healed pretty quickly."

"Thought for a few minutes I'd broken your jaw."

"Me too," Larabee said as they grew quiet once more. The sounds of the night included a far off coyote and several other wild animals. The smell of the burning wood and the soft breathing of both men were the only thing out of the ordinary in the area.

"Chris, do you remember the day Angela disappeared?"

"How could I forget? I nearly lost you that day, Buck."

"Came damn close, Chris. If you hadn't stopped me I'd probably have been buried that day. I just wasn't thinking...never do when I'm around Angela."

"I'll keep you honest, Buck."

"You always do. You know I'm as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night," the ladies' man admitted.

"Ah, hell, Buck, we're not gonna get much sleep tonight are we?"

"Probably not. Maybe we should just ride on."

"Not a smart idea, Buck. Too many places where a horse could break a leg."

"Yeah, I know...ain't keeping you awake am I?"

"Not yet," Larabee said as he took a long drag on the cheroot before throwing the last of it into the fire. He turned on his side and looked at the man lying across from him. Wilmington was staring into the flames as if lost in the past and Chris knew there was a lot going through his friend's mind. "Buck, don't think about it too much. What happened is in the past and if this is your chance at happiness then I'll be damn proud to stand by your side."

"Thanks, Chris, I just hope I'm not making a damn fool of myself."

"Well, won't be the first time, Pard," Larabee grinned in an effort to lighten the mood before lying back on his bedroll.

"Good night, Chris," Wilmington said.

"Night, Buck," the blond answered and pulled his blanket closer around his lean body.

---

Angela Tate sat on the porch swing and watched as two riders came towards her ranch house. The sun was going down and cast long shadows over the house and the well-kept grounds. She was pretty sure who the men were, but remained seated as she waited for them to come into her yard. Smiling as the duo drew to a stop in front of her, Angela raced down the two steps and threw herself into Wilmington's arms before he'd planted both feet on the ground.

"Oh, Buck, God I've missed you so much," the woman cried as she continued to hold tightly to the mustached man.

"I missed you too, Angela," Wilmington said a flurry of emotions colliding with each other as his body reacted to her nearness.

"I can't believe you're actually here, Buck. I didn't think you'd come."

"You asked me to, Angela. You remember Chris Larabee," Wilmington said, disentangling himself from the woman.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," she smiled brightly as she turned to the blond haired man standing between the two horses. "Hello, Chris, it's good to see you again."

"You too, Angela. Buck, I'll take care of the horses."

"Thanks, Chris," the ladies' man said as he held the woman in his arms.

"The barn is at the back of the house. Tell Manual I said to take good care of them." Angela watched the lean, black clad gunfighter for several seconds before turning her full attention to the man standing before her. "You haven't changed, Buck."

"I wouldn't say that Angela, but the years have been good to you. You're still the most beautiful lady to grace the west...east...north and south."

"Oh, Buck, you're still my silver tongued scoundrel. I can't tell you how many times I've cried myself to sleep because of you."

"Then why did you leave, Angela?" Wilmington asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of you being killed."

"Me? Who'd want to kill me back then?"

"My jilted ex fiancé."

"Whoa! Your what?" the ladies' man asked. "Thought you and me were getting married?"

"Oh, Buck, how can I explain?"

"Well, you can tell me who the hell this ex fiancé is...was when I get hold of him!"

"Robert's dead, Buck, and I'm finally free of the debt I owed him, that's why I sent for you." She reached up and pulled his head down into a kiss that deepened and sent a flash of hot desire tingling through Wilmington's body.

"A...Angela, God you still set me on fire," he said of her wanton behavior.

"I want y...you, Buck...so bad."

"I want you too, Angela, but not here...not now."

"Your body tells me different," Angela said as she slipped her tongue past his lips. She smiled as another groan escaped from her would-be lover.

"Believe me I want nothing more than to take you right here and now, but we can't...I can't. I need to know why, Angela, I deserve an explanation."

Angela pulled away, hiding the anger and disappointment as she stared out over the landscape. This was her home and it would be Wilmington's as well, no matter what else happened she would have this man her body craved. There were drugs she could purchase off the local Chinese apothecary that would see Wilmington in her bed. For now she would rely on his lust for her, because it was strongly evident in the way he'd kissed her, bruising her lips and brushing his tongue across her mouth.

"Who was he, Angela?"

"Someone I knew back home in St. Louis." Her answer was spoken softly and she knew it sounded pained, and she smiled inwardly at her own duplicity. She turned back to the mustached man and swallowed several times before meeting his eyes and letting him see the tears. "His name was Robert Stratton and he came over here from England, looking for a wife he said, but it wasn't a wife he wanted, Buck."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to take me back to England and make me some kind of harlot, Buck. He already had a wife, but that didn't seem to matter to him. He told me the night before we were to sail that his wife was living at their house in town and that the country estate would be mine, but I couldn't do that, Buck. I couldn't be a concubine." She broke down crying, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs as he pulled her close. He didn't see the wicked gleam in her eyes as she continued with the tale of woe she'd concocted to make this man believe in her once more.

"What about your family? Surely they didn't agree with those arrangements?"

"They didn't agree with them, but Robert was blackmailing my father. Daddy had no choice but to go along with it."

"So how did you end up here?" Wilmington asked.

"Robert found me the night before you and I were to be wed. He forced me to go back to St. Louis with him and told me we would be wed or my father would pay the price with his business, reputation, and finally his life. Robert and I were married, but no one else knew he was already married in England. The night we were to set sail, Robert was involved in a disagreement over a poker game and one of the other gamblers killed him. My father arranged for me to obtain my things from the boat before it sailed and we were also given the strongbox that held the money from Robert's business dealings."

"Why didn't you contact me after Robert died? I would've understood," Wilmington assured her.

"I tried, Buck, but you and Chris had already left Midfield and I had no idea where to look for you."

"Damn, Chris and I settled near Eagle Bend..."

"Did you ever start that horse ranch of yours?"

"Yeah, we did, but..."

"What happened?" Angela asked, as the man grew quiet.

"It just didn't work out," Wilmington finally answered as the visions of the horrendous fire finally dissolved. "So what made you come back to Midfield?"

"It just seemed the right thing to do at the time. This place had some wonderful memories and it was the last place I saw you. I came back here hoping to find you and Chris well established as horse breeders, but they said you left long before I returned."

"How long have you been back here?"

"I came back six years ago and I sent out telegrams to surrounding towns asking after you, but they always came back unanswered until a few weeks ago."

"What happened a few weeks ago?"

"Some cattle drovers came through Midfield and they had an old newspaper clipping from a town called Four Corners."

"That's where I live now."

"I know. The paper said the town was celebrating the fourth of July thanks to seven peacekeepers. I couldn't believe it was you when I saw the picture. I felt like I'd finally come home and that's why I sent the telegram. I love you, Buck, I have since the first day I laid eyes on you and...and..."

Buck watched the tears as they slipped from her eyes and slid down her cheeks. His fingers touched against her right cheek and he felt her press into his touch.

"Oh, Buck, I'm so...so sorry."

"So am I, Angela..."

"Is it too late for us, Buck?"

"I don't know..."

"Please, Buck, give us a chance...give me a chance to show you how much I love you. I promise you won't be sorry..."

---

Chris had helped Manual with both horses and was impressed with the man's skills. After brushing Pony down he'd turned both animals over to the Mexican and walked back towards the front of the house. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but something about the woman's voice sent chills down his spine. Her explanation of why she ended up back in Midfield seemed lame and he knew he would send inquiries to St. Louis and find out what had happened to Robert Stratton. He heard Buck's voice, and recognized the hope in his softly spoken words as Angela Tate, or whatever her name was now, pleaded for him to give her a chance.

---

"Just say you'll stay with me and let me show you...give us a chance at the happiness we deserve."

"I'll stay for a while...see what tomorrow brings," Wilmington said and again found his lips on hers as if to release her now would be the worst thing he'd ever done in his life.

"God, Buck, I love you so much..."

---

Chris shivered as he heard her words and remembered the chill he'd felt when he first met Angela. The woman seemed like a cold fish to him, but it was not for him to dictate how Buck Wilmington lived his life. He thought about Ella Gaines and the heated words he'd had with Vin Tanner and knew that his role was now that of the Texan. He'd have to wait and watch, but no matter what he'd make damn sure Wilmington would not be hurt. Taking a deep breath, Chris walked quickly around the corner and tried not to look sheepish as he caught the two locked in a passionate embrace.

"Excuse me...didn't mean to interrupt..."

"Ah, hell, Chris," Wilmington said as he pulled away from the woman.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to monopolize Buck, but it's been so long and I can't seem to tear myself away from him."

"I can see that," Larabee said softly and dusted off his jeans.

"Oh my, where are my manners? You must be starving and I can imagine how thirsty you must be. Come into the house and I'll see if Carmon has dinner ready. She's a wonderful chef and was preparing roast beef with stew and some kind of specialty herb mixture she uses."

"Well, Chris, we seem to have a choice tonight. What'll it be, beans or beef?" Wilmington asked with a grin.

"Let me see...think I'll take the beef if that's all right with you and Angela," Larabee said and smiled at the slight coloring of his long time friend's cheeks.

"I would be honored, Chris," Angela said and stepped into the house. The long hallway was wide enough for the trio to walk side by side and Angela linked her arms though each of her guest's arms as they walked towards the back of the house.

Chris cringed inwardly at her touch, and glanced towards Wilmington who seemed enthralled by the attention she lavished on him. Chris knew Buck was a good judge of character and normally he would not interfere, but the gentle rogue seemed to be under her spell as they made it to the dining room. He watched as Angela gestured for Buck to sit on her right and for him to sit on the left. Buck, his usual manners coming to the front pulled back her chair and waited for her to sit down before taking his own seat.

"You really have a wonderful home here, Angela."

"Thank you, Buck, it suits me," the redhead said and smiled sweetly at the man she wanted.

"Yes, it certainly does," Wilmington said of the lavishly decorated dining room with the flowered wallpaper and highly polished furnishings. He looked up as a rotund woman entered the room and looked towards the woman of the house.

"Si, Carmon, you may serve dinner now." Angela smiled as the older woman nodded and hurried from the room. "Carmon is unable to speak, but she understands simple commands and gestures. She was born that way and chose to learn the skills of a chef. Her meals are simple, but oh, you can not imagine how they taste until you've had the pleasure of partaking of her culinary arts."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Wilmington said and smiled as she reached across the table and placed her hand on his. She turned her attention to the second man and smiled sweetly as she spoke.

"Chris, I had heard somewhere that you were married. How is your wife? Did she mind you coming here with Buck?"

"My wife's dead, Angela," Larabee stated and tried to hide the sorrow the words conjured up.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring up such bad memories."

Chris had the sense that she wasn't sorry at all and that her eyes seemed to glow with the news, but she quickly hid her emotions and reached for the bottle of wine. She offered it to him and he shook his head as she turned back to Wilmington. He knew Buck was feeling bad about her bringing up Sarah and Adam and Chris tried to assure his friend that he was okay.

"Ah, here's dinner," Angela said as Carmon pushed a trolley into the room.

Chris ate the meal in near silence as Angela and Buck talked about the past and her plans for the future. He knew Buck would have a hard time making his decision, but the gunfighter also understood the ladies' man was truly in love with the woman seated at the head of the table. Feeling as if he was intruding on the intimate meal, Chris finished his dessert and accepted a cup of coffee before standing up.

"I think I'll take this outside," Larabee said and turned towards the woman. "Thank you for dinner, Angela."

"You're welcome, Chris. When you're ready to turn in Carmon will show you to your room."

"I can sleep in the bunkhouse..."

"Nonsense. I won't hear of it. You're as much a guest here as Buck is and I won't hear of you sleeping with the hired hands when there's a perfectly good bed in the guestroom. I'll have Carmon turn down the blankets and make sure the room is ready when you are."

"Thank you," Larabee said and quickly retreated from the room.

"He's still as close mouthed about himself as he always was," Angela observed softly.

"He's been through more hell than any man deserves and then some, Angela. Chris ain't never been one to talk about himself much and it's best if you just let him come to you if and when he's ready."

"How did his wife die?" Angela asked.

"Murdered...burned to death while me and Chris were in Mexico selling horses. Came home to nothing but a shell and lost himself in a bottle for a long time after, but he's made it past all that."

"Did he find out who did it?"

"Not sure...seems to be two different stories on that, but somehow I think Ella Gaines told the truth more so than Cletus Fowler."

"Who is Ella Gaines?"

"A woman Chris met a long time ago. She was very possessive of him and had his wife and son killed so she could have him. The bitch came after him again about a year ago and that's when he found out about what she'd done!"

"I hope she's in jail...or did she hang?"

"No, she escaped after Chris was shot and seems to have disappeared."

"I'm so sorry. It sounds like he's been through hell."

"And then some," Wilmington finished and looked out the window as Larabee's dark shadow passed the room they were in.

"I am sorry, Buck, but I want to talk about us."

"What about us?" Wilmington asked as she pulled her chair closer to his.

"I want...I need you to know how much I love you...have always loved you."

"I wish..." Her hand covered his mouth, as she looked deep into his soft blue eyes.

"Don't tell me what you wish right now, Buck, just give me a chance to prove what I say to you. Will you do that for me?"

"I don't know, Angela. A lot of time's gone by."

"I know, but believe me, Buck, I know right down to the minute. I'm not some nervous virgin who's excited about taking the man she loves to her bed. I love you more than ever and I want to feel your arms around me. I want..."

"Sh, Angela, I want the same thing, but you have to think about your reputation."

"None of my hands will talk, Buck, and Carmon is loyal to me. So the only one we need worry about is Chris."

"Chris ain't one to talk about my business," Wilmington assured her.

"Then come to bed with me...love me tonight and we'll take the future as it comes."

"If that's what you really want," the ladies' man said.

"It is...it's something I've wanted for longer than I can remember." The two would-be lovers stood and walked out of the dining room together. She held tightly to him as they enter her bedroom and closed the door behind them. "Oh, Buck, I've waited for this for so long."

"So have I," Wilmington soothed as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the four-poster bed. The soft feather mattress sagged under their combined weight as the rogue gently placed her on the bed and his hands ran down the length of her frame.

"Buck...please...I need you so much!"

"I need you too, Darlin', believe me..."

"Oh, I do," she said as she felt his body shift slightly. She pulled his head down to hers and deepened the kiss she'd started earlier. Tonight she would make him love her and tomorrow he would be hers forever.

---

Chris sipped at the hot coffee as he stood looking out over the darkened landscape. He knew where Buck was spending the night and couldn't help feeling guilty at his thoughts. Something was definitely wrong with Angela Tate's story and Chris knew what he had to do. Come daybreak he'd ride into town and send a telegram to St. Louis. Hopefully he'd get the answers, whether good or bad, within a day or so. Taking a long draw on the Cheroot, the gunfighter remembered his own reactions when Vin Tanner had found out about Ella Gaines' duplicity. Chris had been angry with the Texan for digging into his business, but Larabee owed the tracker far more than he could ever repay.

Taking a deep breath, Chris walked slowly along the outside of the house. He heard the unmistakable sounds of lovemaking from an open window and hurried past. The sounds of the night filled the air and the far off cry of a coyote added to the slight chill that crept through him. No matter what happened Buck would be hurt, but there were two kinds of hurt. Chris would make damn sure if Angela Tate was even slightly like Ella Gaines she would not have the chance to harm one hair on Wilmington's head. He finished the Cheroot as he made it back to the front of the house and stamped it out before entering through the front door. He smiled as Carmon came out of the kitchen and gestured for him to follow her.

His bedroom was at the back of the house and he entered the bedroom to see the blankets folded back. A basin of hot water sat on the small table near the bed and a clean towel and face cloth hung over the back of a chair.

"Thank you," Larabee said and smiled as the older woman left the room. He quickly washed the trail dust from his face and hands before easing the boots and clothes from his body. The water was gritty with dirt and he knew there would be no point in washing the rest of his body.

'Maybe they have a bath house in town,' he thought as he sank back onto the bed. He hadn't meant to sleep, but the softness of the bed and the warmth of the blankets soon had him slipping towards sleep. The dreams that came bordered on nightmares as Ella Gaines' face floated in front of him, taunting him with plans for the future that included becoming Mrs. Christopher Larabee.

---

Buck awoke to the pleasant sensation of a warm body spooned up against him. The intoxicating scent of roses brought back the memories of earlier times and the wondrous night of lovemaking he'd shared with Angela Tate. She was as bold as he was in bed and they'd found many ways to pleasure each other through the early hours of the morning. Dawn was beginning to creep into the sky when they finally lay sated in each other's arms. He felt her soft breath against his arm and smiled as he pulled her tight. He nuzzled the thick locks of vibrant red hair and luxuriated in the velvety softness of her body. His left hand traveled down her shoulder and along her stomach, stopping at her navel where he continued to lavish his attention on her.

"Buck, if you continue in this manner we'll never leave this bed again."

"If that's meant to stop me, Darlin', it ain't gonna happen."

"I would like nothing more than to stay here in your arms, but this is a working ranch and since I own it I have to..."

"Don't you have a foreman?"

"I do, but he takes orders from me. Besides, I think I smell fresh coffee and bacon."

"I smell only roses..."

"Buck, aren't you hungry?"

"Oh yeah!" The rogue said nibbling at the nape of her neck. He felt her push back against him and chuckled softly as she continued to berate him.

"Buck, you're insatiable."

"Hmm..."

"Oh, God," Angela said and turned towards the ladies' man. She soon found herself lost in the touch of his hands and the brush of his lips against her skin.

---

Chris woke before dawn and stretched his lean frame under the blankets. The fatigue of days of travel and subsequent nightmares left him feeling worse than the night before; yet he knew he would not be getting any more sleep. Sitting up and sliding his legs over the edge, Chris rubbed at tired eyes and reached for his pants. He dressed quickly and silently walked out of the bedroom. No one else was up yet as he made his way towards the front door. Once outside he lit a cheroot and sat on the top step of the porch and sighed contentedly. He loved the night and took solace in the quiet that was missing during the hubbub that made up the daylight hours.

He looked towards the house as the sound of movement from within caught his attention. If it were Wilmington he'd join Chris, but if it was anyone else he didn't really want the company of strangers. By the time he finished his cheroot much of the stiffness had left his body and he stood up once more. The door behind him opened and he turned to see Carmon standing there with a cup of coffee in her hands. Accepting the cup he smiled and thanked the woman before settling back on the step once more.

---

Buck reluctantly released the woman, fell back against the pillows and groaned as she slid out of the bed. He knew this woman, had explored every contour of her body throughout the night and knew how it felt to be well and truly loved. Her fingers danced along his bare chest, causing him to groan once more as she tweaked the hairs on his chest.

"Damn, Woman," he said and sighed, as she stood naked before him.

"I take it you enjoyed yourself?"

"You could say that," Wilmington told her.

"Buck, you and I are meant to be together."

"After last night I think you're probably right, but why don't we take things slow and make sure this is what we both want."

"I already know, Buck. Can't you see that? Do you think I'm some kind of wanton woman who would take any man to her bed and make love so easily."

"No, Darlin', I don't think that way at all. It's just that you have so much going for you and I have nothing. People would think I'm marrying you for your money."

"Does that really matter, Buck? I mean you and I know how we feel. Why let others dictate our actions. I know we'll be happy and God knows what the lovemaking will be like after last night."

"I know, Angela, and I want to marry..."

"Are you proposing to me, Buck?"

"I...I am, but I don't want your answer right away. I want you to think about what it would mean to you. I mean the ranch would still be yours, but most people will come to think of me as the one running it..."

"And you will be as any good husband should."

"That's easy to say right now, but when that day comes how will you feel. I don't want you resenting ever marrying me. I don't want our love ruined because someone asked me a question about the ranch instead of coming to you."

"I love you, Buck Wilmington, and I want to marry you and have children with you..."

"Children," the gentle rogue whispered longingly.

"You do want children don't you?"

"Y...yeah, I do."

"Well, so do I and we're both not getting any younger."

"Maybe not, but you are even more beautiful today than you were when I first met you."

"Thank you, now why don't we get some breakfast and see to running our ranch?"

"Sounds good, bet Chris is already looking at those horses you told me about."

"Does he still like to break them?"

"Yeah, think he always will," Wilmington said and reached for the clothes she handed him. They dressed in silence and he pulled her to him once more. "I could get used to this."

"So could I," Angela said as they exited the room together. They made their way to the kitchen and found Chris seated at the small table set against the window. "Good morning, Chris."

"Morning, Angela...Buck," Larabee said with a grin.

"Hey, Chris, you been up long?"

"Long enough," Larabee teased and saw the smile form on his long time friend's face as he sat next to him on the bench.

"Buck, would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, please, Angela," the rogue said and met his friend's gaze. He could see the teasing light in the gunfighter's green eyes and knew they'd be talking about his plans before long. He'd been by Chris's side when he married Sarah Connelly and now that role would be reversed.

"I just need to speak with Manual and I'll be right back," Angela said, pouring strong black coffee into a cup and placing it in front of the ladies' man. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek, smiled at Larabee and hurried out of the room.

"Chris?"

"Yes, Buck?"

"Is this how you felt with Sarah...ah hell, Pard I'm sorry. It's just, well, I can't seem to think straight. She's something..."

"That she is," Larabee said of the cold-eyed woman who seemed to have Wilmington wrapped around her finger. There was no way he could stand by and see his friend hurt, but until he had evidence Buck would not believe him.

"I'm thinking about settling down for good, Chris. Angela wants a family and so do I, but neither one of us is that young anymore."

"Feeling your age, Buck?"

"Now more than ever. I see Vin and JD and I think about what we were like at that age."

"Hell, yeah, I feel it more and more..."

"I think we all do at some point in time, just don't make a mistake..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wilmington asked, frowning as he met Larabee's cool gaze.

"Just don't make a snap decision until you're sure you're ready."

"Chris, you sound like you don't trust her."

"I wouldn't go that far, Buck, I just want you to think before you jump in with both feet," Larabee explained.

"That's real good coming from you. Angela ain't Ella, Chris..."

"Never said she was!" Larabee stated angrily and placed his empty cup on the table.

"Well it sure sounds like..."

"Is something wrong?" the red haired woman asked as she re-entered the room.

"No, nothing's wrong. Nothing at all," Wilmington snapped as the blond stood up to leave.

Without a word Chris stood and nodded to his friend before leaving the room. Angela moved to sit beside the mustached man and frowned at the anger written across his face. Something had happened between the two men and she knew it had to do with her. She sensed that Larabee disliked her and it she could find a way to use it to turn Wilmington away from that friendship. He didn't need reminders of his past and they didn't need Larabee's interference. The gunfighter had unwittingly just given her the means to drive a wedge between them.

"Chris doesn't like me very much does he?"

"Doesn't matter what Chris thinks, Angela, only matters what I think right now and all I can think about is you."

"But you and Chris have been friends for a long time, Buck. I don't want to come between you. Friends are important."

"Yeah, they are, but they also need to realize a man's gotta make his own choices."

"I didn't mean to be pushy this morning."

"You weren't, believe me, Darlin', when it comes to being pushy I wrote the book," Wilmington assured her and reached for his coffee. He knew he'd hurt Larabee with his comment about Ella Gaines and he'd apologize for it when Larabee came back inside, but for now his attention was on the woman beside him.

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"I will...later," Wilmington said and drew her into a passionate embrace.

---

Chris knew his long time friend had spoken without thinking, lashing out in much the same way Chris had done with Vin Tanner. Striding around the corner of the house he made his way towards the barn and hurried inside. Pony whinnied as he entered and Chris smiled as he patted the animal's neck.

"You up for a ride, Boy?" he asked, reaching for the saddle blanket hanging on the partition between the stalls. It didn't take long to make sure the saddle was properly in place and lead Pony out of the barn. He turned towards the house as Wilmington came towards him.

"Chris, where are you going?"

"Thought I'd take a ride into Midfield, see if they have a place to get a bath."

"Want some company?" the ladies' man asked as Angela Tate joined them.

"No, thanks anyway. I'm sure you guys have things to talk about. I'll be back by supper time if that's okay?"

"That'll be fine," Angela said, anxious to have the dark haired man to herself for the day.

"Is there anything you need in town, Angela?" Larabee asked courteously.

"I don't think so, Chris, but thanks for offering."

"You're welcome," Larabee said as he climbed into the saddle.

"Chris," Wilmington said as he grabbed the reins and stopped the gunfighter from leaving. Their eyes locked and Buck swallowed painfully before speaking. "I didn't mean..."

"I know that, Buck," Larabee assured him, smiling as he turned the horse away and rode out of the yard unaware of the cold eyes that stared after him. The landscape quickly changed as he rode away from the ranch and he found the tension easing from tired muscles. Chris didn't mind company, but he'd always enjoyed the solitude of riding alone across unfamiliar territory. He let Pony set the pace and relaxed as the sun made its journey across an azure blue sky as puffy white clouds slowly trekked across the horizon. In the distance he spotted a herd of wild mustang and smiled at the grace and beauty as they moved unerringly towards the mountains. Sighing contentedly he wondered if he was wrong about Angela Tate and was jealous of his friend's newfound happiness. He hoped she was everything Buck remembered, but there was no way he could sit back and relax until he knew her story was true.

'There's only one way to know for sure,' he thought, gripping the reins tightly as he continued towards Midfield and the answers he needed.

---

Buck smiled down at the woman lying on the blanket beside the gurgling stream of water. Once Chris had ridden out of sight she'd asked him to accompany her to one of the line shacks near the creek and he'd readily agreed. Angela appeared half an hour later with a picnic hamper in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other, suggesting that they eat while they worked.

Buck ran his fingers through the silken strands of red hair and breathed deeply of the scent that was hers alone. They'd made love beside the creek and she suggested a quick swim before eating lunch. Now sated, with food and wine, the two lovers lay curled up beside each other.

"This place is beautiful," Wilmington observed as he looked at the hundred foot trees that surrounded them. The sun peeked through the shade of the leaves and bathed them in warmth as a light breeze tickled their skin.

"It is, isn't it? I've always loved this part of the country and I think that's why I came back here to live. That and the hope that someday you would return as well." She looked into the clear blue eyes and knew this man loved her and she craved the touch of his hands on her body. She would own him before they were through and he would stay at her side in the running of this ranch.

"I'm here, Darlin', and right now there's no place I'd rather be," Wilmington said and reached for the glass of wine. He tipped it to her lips before sipping from the same glass and setting it down above her head once more.

"Oh, Buck, I've waited so long for this and I want everything to be perfect for us."

"I'm looking at perfection," Wilmington whispered as he nuzzled against her cheek. He heard her sigh as she pressed against the length of his body and entwined her legs with his.

"No one has ever called me perfection, Buck..."

"Well, I was hoping I was the only one who can see how beautiful you really are, Angela. I've never seen anyone with so much energy...so much love...and I want you..."

"You have me..."

"No, I mean I want you with me forever. Will you marry me, Angela?"

"Oh, Buck, are you sure?"

"Yes," Wilmington said dreamily. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Yes, Buck, God yes, I'll marry you!"

"Good," the rogue said and kissed her again. "Name the date..."

"Shouldn't we wait?"

"What for? I want to marry you as soon as possible."

"Well, today is Thursday and it'll take a couple of days to make the arrangements. How about Sunday?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Would you like to get married in the church or at the ranch?"

"How about right here?"

"Here?" Angela asked incredulously.

"Why not, it's perfect."

"Yes, it is, but what if it rains?"

"It won't. Nothing is going to ruin our day."

"What about Chris?"

"Chris will be fine, Angela. He knows how I feel about you."

"He doesn't seem to like me."

"I wouldn't say that. I think Chris just wants to make sure I don't make the same mistakes he has. He may not always show it, but he cares about his friends and doesn't want to see us hurt."

"I could never hurt you, Buck."

"I know that, Darlin'," Wilmington said and felt her hands reach out and touch his chest.

Angela smiled inwardly as she touched the coarse dark hair on Wilmington's chest. The wine had been laced with a drug given to her by Rosemary Clark and she knew this man was under the influence of its effects. It would not hurt him, but he would be more susceptible to her touch and she knew it had relaxed him to the point where he had asked her to marry him. She had enough of the drug to keep him under her control until after they were married and then she would use it whenever she thought it necessary. Drugs were something she had easy access to and her friend would make sure she had what she needed.

"I hope that smile is for me, Angela," Wilmington said.

"Who else would it be for, Buck. Make love to me."

"Here? Now? Again?"

"Hmm, hmm," she whispered and soon felt his lips on hers. This was the life she wanted and no one would be allowed to interfere.

---

The town really hadn't changed except that the few buildings still standing were in need of repair. The church at the edge of town was the only building that seemed to have weathered the years without damage. Chris wondered if Midfield had its own version of Josiah Sanchez. To his right was the saloon, batwing doors hanging slightly askew as the wind blew into the dusty interior. On his left and a little further down the street was the jail and he could see the man whose job it was to uphold the law. The sheriff sat on a chair, tilted back, feet straight out in front of him, and his hat pulled forward over his eyes.

Chris continued along, passing the saloon and a small restaurant before coming to a stop before the jail.

"What can I do fer ya, Mister?" the sheriff asked without moving a muscle.

"Need to send a telegram."

"Telegraph office is part of the hotel. You in town long?"

"Reckon that's my business."

"My town...my business. Helps me keep the rabble out."

"Not much here to attract rabble," Larabee said with a grin as the other man looked up.

"Well, sweet Jesus, is that you, Chris?"

"Sure is. How have you been Evan?"

"I've been getting along pretty good. Sure didn't expect to see you back in town. Buy ya a drink?"

"Sounds good. Just need to send that telegram first."

"All right...hey where's Wilmington? Ain't he with ya?" Evan Rawlings asked curiously.

"He's out at the Tate place."

"Ah, I should have known. He still sweet on the lady?"

"Seems like it. I'll meet you at the saloon as soon as I've sent the telegram."

"Sounds good, Chris."

Larabee continued towards the ramshackle building that held the sign denoting it as the Midfield Hotel and Restaurant. He quickly dismounted and looped Pony's reins over the rail before walking into the hotel. The interior was elegantly furnished and cleaned to polished perfection. There were no patrons present, but there was a woman standing behind a counter and she smiled as he walked towards her.

"Can I help you, Sir?"

"Need to send a telegram."

"Certainly," the woman said as she slid a paper and quill pen across the counter to him. She watched as he wrote quickly and handed it across to her once more.

"How much?" Larabee asked as she finished reading the missive. Her answer was curt and he handed her the money she asked for and watched as she sent the telegram.

"It may take some time, Mr..."

"Larabee," the blond answered. "I'll be staying at the Tate place. If an answer comes ask one of the men to ride out there and I'll make it worth his while."

"Of course, Mr. Larabee, I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you," Larabee said and turned to leave. He didn't see the woman crumple up the paper and throw it into the trash, nor did he feel the cold calculating eyes that followed his every move.

Rosemary Clark knew what she had to do as the gunfighter left the hotel. She'd sent the message, but not to St. Louis as he requested. She knew he wouldn't be receiving an answer to his query about the circumstances surrounding Robert Stratton's death. Gathering her long skirts she turned and walked to the back room where she kept some of her personal items, including a colt pistol belonging to her husband. Checking the gun she was satisfied that it was loaded and hurried to find the one man she relied on at times like this.

---

Chris made his way to the saloon and pushed the doors open. He spotted the sheriff at the back and quickly entered as he gazed left to right and back again. The interior was like most saloons, dull and dusty, but there was also the familiar smell of whiskey and beer and Chris wanted both. He hurried to the table and without even thinking about it took the seat that provided him with a good view of the front entrance, stairs, and the windows.

"Whiskey still your choice of drink, Chris?"

"Yep," Larabee answered as a saloon girl came over and took their orders. She came back with a two glasses and a bottle and the blond smiled at her as he reached for the Red Eye. "Leave the bottle."

"You heard him, Maddie," Rawlings said and smiled at the woman before she left. "So, how have things been with you, Chris? Last I heard you'd settled down and started that horse ranch."

"Didn't work out," Larabee answered irritably.

"Sorry to hear that. I thought you'd have a damn good chance of making it. Never knew a man who could tell a good horse just by lookin' at him like you could."

Chris poured a second shot and downed it before looking at the man seated across from him. Evan Rawlings had been a friend to him and Buck and he didn't want to insult him, but there were things Chris kept to himself and didn't talk about. Breeding horses was too much of a reminder of all he'd lost and something he discussed with a select few.

"I'm sorry, Chris. Didn't mean to pry."

"It's just not something I talk about, Evan."

"Understood. So what are you and Buck up to now?"

"We help keep the peace in a little place called Four Corners."

"Four Corners! Hell, don't tell me you're one of them Magnificent Seven Jock Steele wrote about?"

"I wouldn't exactly call us magnificent, but we get the job done," Larabee answered.

"Well I'll be damned. If that don't beat all! I never would've believed Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee upholdin' the law. Seems to me ya both spent a fair amount of time keeping the flies company in my jail."

"Yeah, times have changed, Evan."

"Glad to hear it. Whatever happened to that woman you were seeing? What was her name? Gant...Grant...Ella Grant...no Ella Gaines? Pretty thing...did you ever marry her?"

"No," the blond answered simply, fighting back the anger and resentment he felt rising like hot sour bile in his throat.

"Sorry, prying again. Anyway, Chris it's good to see you, but I've got a job to do. Tell Buck I said hello when ya get back to the Tate place."

"Will do. Thanks for the whiskey," Larabee told him.

"Any time."

Chris sat back, took a cheroot from his pocket and lit it. He was the only patron and was again grateful for the solitude. Knowing that he had a long hot ride ahead of him, Chris sipped the whiskey and enjoyed his smoke before standing and hurrying out of the saloon. He walked to the hotel and stepped through the doors before searching for the woman he'd spoken to earlier. A man stood behind the counter and he hurried over.

"Can I help you, Mister?"

"Sent a telegram a couple of hours ago and wondered if there'd been a reply yet."

"There hasn't been anything come through since Rosie left."

"Thanks, I'll check back in a few days."

"Sure thing."

Chris turned away and went back out into the late afternoon sunshine. He moved towards Pony and checked the saddle before mounting up and heading out of town. As he passed the last building he noticed the dark clouds moving across the sky and knew they were going to have a storm before long. The wind had picked up as well, but it would still be some time before the storm hit them and he knew he could take cover somewhere if it grew too bad. The first hour passed without seeing anyone, but he spotted a rider coming towards him from the right and he watched the newcomer with a gunslinger's instincts. As the rider drew abreast of him, Chris's right hand rested on the butt of his colt. The rider looked to be around fifteen and Chris relaxed slightly as he watched the smile cross the young man's face.

"Hey, Mister, have you seen a young woman come ridin' this way?"

"No."

"Damn, she's my sister and I gotta tell her Ma's waitin' on her."

"She ain't been this way," Larabee answered, finding himself relaxing as the other man seemed to look all around and stretch his neck as if looking around Chris. "Hope you find her."

"Damn if that ain't her comin'," the newcomer said and Chris twisted slightly in the saddle.

Chris Larabee cursed his stupidity at letting his guard down so easily. The boy's laughter reached his ears at the same time the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the landscape. Chris felt the bullet impact with his right leg and ignored the fiery trail of pain as Pony bolted back the way they came. He gripped the reins and cursed again as the boy pursued him. Chris had little time to think as another rider came into view. He recognized the woman from town just as he pulled his gun from its holster. He turned to fire on the first foe, but the woman's shot caught him on the left side and the intensity of the pain was such that the gun slipped from his fingers even as his body was thrown from Pony's back. He landed hard on the ground, his head impacting with a rock as he rolled down a small hillock before slamming into a tree. He had no idea how long he lay there, but forced his eyes open. An angel stood over him; one he recognized and suddenly realized his angel was a devil in disguise as she used the butt of a rifle to render him unconscious.

Rosemary Clark stared down at the unconscious gunfighter and smiled as she touched his neck. The man was still alive, but he was bleeding from two bullet wounds and from a deep laceration above his right eye. She quickly gestured for her accomplice to come closer and smiled as the twenty-two year old man with the face and gaunt body of a boy stood beside her. She saw that he'd managed to catch Chris Larabee's horse and knew what she had to do.

"Well done, Ethan, now help me get him on his horse and out to my place."

"Are you sure your place is safe, Miss Rosemary? What about your husband?"

"Joseph does not interfere in my business, Ethan. He knows what I do is what keeps us living so well off. I believe you understand about that...after all you have an easy job as long as you do as you're told. Now help me get him up and secured to his saddle before someone comes along."

"Yes, Ma'am," Ethan Turner agreed and reached for Larabee's upper body. Most people who saw him thought he would be blown away by a strong breeze, but Ethan had worked hard to gain the strength often lacking in men his size. With Rosemary's help he had Larabee on his feet and they managed to carry him to where Pony was ground tied. "Miss Rosemary, it might be easier if you go around the horse and pull him while I lift him. Then we just need to tie his hands and feet to the saddle."

"All right, Ethan, are you sure you can handle him from this side?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm a lot stronger than folks think."

"I can see that," the Clark woman said as she hurried to the opposite side. Pony shied away at the strange hands and the strong smell of blood, but he could not move very far with the tight rein. She reached across the saddle and grabbed Larabee's arms as Turner began to heft him onto the animal's back. Larabee's dead weight soon rested on Pony's back and she quickly wrapped rope around his wrists and tightened the bounds until she had him tied to the stirrups. She looked across to see Ethan putting the finishing touches on Larabee's ankles and quickly mounted her own big bay.

"Ethan, you ride on ahead with Larabee and take him to the line shack at the north corner of my property. Take the back roads and make sure no one sees you. I'll stop by the house and get the things I need to take care of our guest.

"Yes, Ma'am," Turner said and grabbed Pony's reins before mounting his own animal. He turned them onto an old track before heading towards the north corner at a steady pace.

Rosemary watched as Turner disappeared and finally turned her horse towards her friend's house. She knew she was taking a chance on kidnapping Chris Larabee, but there was no way she could have hidden the details of Angela Tate's background. She needed to get to Angela and they would have to come up with a reason for Larabee's sudden disappearance. Riding towards the Tate ranch, Rosemary began to formulate a plan.

---

Buck sighed contentedly and wished they could stay by the creek, but there seemed to be a storm brewing. He watched the woman as she packed the remnants of their picnic lunch back into the hamper while he folded the blanket and tucked it in on top of the plates and cutlery.

"Think maybe we'd best get a move on," Wilmington said as he placed the hamper in the back of the buggy.

"Why, Buck, are you afraid of getting wet?"

"Now, Darlin', that's something I've never been afraid of especially when in the company of a beautiful woman."

"Careful, Buck, I might think you're a ladies' man with a woman in every creek," Angela whispered coyly.

"Only one woman and one creek I want, Angela," Wilmington said seriously as he helped her into the seat and climbed up beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and took the reins as they started back towards the ranch.

"Buck, thank you so much for today."

"I think I should be the one thanking you, Angela. If you hadn't suggested a picnic I probably would've ridden into town to find Chris."

"Do you think he's back yet?"

"I don't know. Chris, well he can get kind of broody, but he's a great friend, you know?"

"What is it about Chris that makes you take up for him so much?"

"I don't know, Darlin', but see me and Chris have always been close, even when he pushed me away I knew he didn't mean it. We just naturally seem to find each other when the time's right. Like what happened in Four Corners."

"That town you live in?"

"That's right. See, I was there just passing through and havin' a little fun with Blossom..."

"Blossom?" Angela asked, frowning at the man beside her.

"Yeah, pretty woman, but she don't hold a candle to you. Well anyway, I was with her when I sort of fell out of the window..."

"Out of a window?" Tate asked, jealousy evident in her tone.

"Well, yeah, Blossom's husband was banging on the door only it wasn't him. It was a man named Vin Tanner from Texas...never met a finer tracker. The man could track a polar bear through a blizzard and never lose his tracks."

"Sounds like you admire Vin Tanner."

"I do, anyway, Chris was there and offered me a job...didn't pay much, but I couldn't say no to him. Ended up with seven of us goin' against Anderson and his Ghosts of the Confederacy. When we got back to Four Corners Judge Travis offered us the job of keeping the peace in the town and we've been there ever since. The rest of us turned to Chris and sort of made him the man in charge, whether he realizes it or not. Chris is just a natural born leader and has the instincts to go with it. Only problem is those instincts don't always kick in. He's ignored them a few times and it usually ends up with him being hurt."

"Buck, do you think he'll be okay with our getting married?"

"Oh, I think so, especially since he's gonna be my best man," Wilmington told her as the first drops of rain fell on them. "Looks like you were right about getting wet, Darlin'."

---

Ethan Turner heard the approaching buggy and pulled deeper into the thicket to await their passing. He recognized the woman, but had never seen the other man before. Rosemary had told him Angela Tate was going to be married and that her beau was staying at her place and he had to bite his lip from laughing as the buggy went past. He jumped as a sound escaped his captive's throat and quickly ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt. Without dismounting, Ethan reached for the rain soaked blond head and quickly tied the material around the man's mouth. He lifted Larabee's head and smiled as another groan escaped the injured man.

"Don't worry, Larabee, Miss Rosemary'll fix ya right up. Ya just gotta be quiet a little longer!" Turner gripped the reins and hurried the horses along as the rain began to fall at a steady pace.

---

Buck frowned as he passed a thick copse of trees and tried to see what had caught his attention, but whatever was out there lost its curious aspect as the skies opened up. The deluge that had threatened manifested itself as lightening flashed across the sky and the deafening crescendo of thunder shook their surroundings.

"Damn!" Wilmington cursed as he kept his hands tightly controlling the reins of the nervous horses, the movement behind him quickly forgotten as the torrential rain soaked them to the skin in less than five seconds.

---

The rain roused the injured man and he tried to lift his head, but succeeded only in setting off an explosion inside his skull. He shifted, and groaned as his body erupted in an agony that left him no doubt that he was in trouble. Opening his eyes, Chris tried to keep the rain from his eyes, but it was a lesson in futility. The water poured down over his body and his hair stuck to his forehead making it hard to see anything. His arms and legs were tied to Pony's saddle and he could barely make out a second horse in front of him.

'What the hell?' Larabee thought and realized there was something wrapped tightly across his mouth and keeping him from making a sound. He frowned, wincing as the movement pulled on the gash on his forehead and tried to make sense of where he was and why he was in this position. The last thing he remembered was having a drink with Evan Rawlings, but everything after that was a blur of unconnected memories. He thought he'd ridden out of town, but couldn't even be sure of that, as the pounding in his head grew worse. He couldn't think, not with the rippling agony in his left side that sent shooting fires up through his nerves and twisted his gut in a churning sea of bile. Again and again he swallowed, praying that he wouldn't vomit and choke because of the cloth.

'Don't be sick...don't be sick...don't be sick,' he repeated as they rode through the violent storm. Consciousness quickly left him as each jarring impact of Pony's hoofs with the ground sent daggers through his side and leg.

---

Rosemary pulled to a stop in front of her friend's house and quickly dismounted. The storm had grown worse, but she knew she had to tell her friend what had happened. She hurried up the steps and onto the porch before entering the house. Wanting to keep her news from everyone, but her friend she smiled as Carmon came towards her. The woman had always been afraid of her and she loved watching her shy away whenever she was in the room.

"Is Angela home?" Cameron's head shook quickly before she headed back to the kitchen. Shaking the rain from her hair Rosemary walked towards the guest bedroom where she kept several articles of clothing. Angela also kept clothing at her place in case they were caught in weather like this.

---

Buck drew the buggy to a stop in front of the house and handed the reins to Manual before helping his sodden fiancé out of her seat. He wrapped his arms around her as they ran up the steps and onto the porch as a thin streak of lightning struck the hundred-foot tree on the edge of the front yard.

"This is one hell of a storm!"

"Yes, it is. I haven't seen one like this since I came home."

"Looks like you got company," Wilmington said nodding at the woman walking towards them.

"Rosemary, how nice of you to come," Angela said as the woman joined them.

"I was on my way home and got caught in the storm. I didn't know you had company."

"Rosemary Clark, this is Buck Wilmington..."

"Buck Wilmington as in the best looking stud this side of the ocean," Rosemary said and smiled at the mustached man.

"Well, hell, thank you, Ma'am," the ladies' man said of the bold woman standing before him.

"This certainly is a pleasure and Angela, you were absolutely right. He is indeed a handsome man," Clark said.

"I know, and it's a good thing you're already married or I might be more than a little jealous of the way you're looking at my fiancé," Angela told her friend.

"Yes, well, I believe you should both get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold."

"Buck, I'll ask Carmon to make some coffee while you change," Angela said and smiled as the gentle rogue kissed her firmly on the lips before heading for the room they shared. Once he disappeared she turned her attention to her friend. "What's going on, Rosie?"

"I need to speak to you privately! Get changed and I'll meet you in the parlor. Just make sure your beau is not within earshot!"

"All right. Just give me a few minutes to change." Angela hurried away from her friend and quickly spoke to Carmon before heading for her bedroom.

---

Ethan Turner drew the horses to a halt in front of the line shack, quickly dismounted, and threw the reins over the hitching rail. The ground was slippery and he landed hard on his back as he fell to the muddy ground. Cursing his luck he made it to his feet and walked the few feet to the shack. Shoving open the door, he quickly looked around the interior and was glad the Clark's kept the shack well stocked. Making sure the door would stay open he turned back to the storm swept landscape and the captive tied to the horse. Reaching down he grabbed hold of Larabee's drenched hair and lifted his head until they were nose to nose. The green eyes blinked rapidly and a sharp cry escaped the slack lips.

"All right, Larabee, here's the deal! I can leave ya tied ta yer horse while I go inside outta the rain or I can release ya and we get ya inside. Ya fight me and I swear I'll teach ya a lesson ya won't soon forget. Now ya just stay put until I cut ya loose!" Turner warned and pulled a knife from his scabbard. He cut the ropes holding his prisoner to the saddle and dumped him unceremoniously into the mud.

As his body impacted the slick ground, Chris Larabee knew he was in the hands of a sadist who didn't give a damn how much pain he caused. The gunfighter tried to come to his feet, but a kick to his right leg sent him back to the ground where he curled into a tight ball in an effort to deflect the vicious kick sent towards his midsection.

"Told ya not ta try anything. Now, I'm gonna get ya on yer feet and we'll get us both inside outta this rain. Ya fight me and I'd just as soon tie ya out here in the rain until the fight's washed outta ya! Ya got that?" Turner asked and pulled the cloth from around his captive's mouth.

"...fuck you!"

"Ain't gonna take no time for yer shit, Larabee, and it's time ya realized I'm in charge here. Now get on yer feet and get inside!"

Chris knew he was in no shape to fight his captor, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Forcing his shaking legs underneath him he managed to get on his feet, but his right leg was in no shape to hold him and he found himself on his knees again. He felt the man grab his arms and was soon forced to his feet and shoved through the open door.

"All right, Larabee, now here's what we're gonna do! Yer gonna get outta them filthy clothes and I'm gonna fix ya a nice bed on the floor until Miss Rosemary gets out here. Ain't much chance of that happenin' in the next couple of hours."

"Go t...to hell!"

"Suit yerself, Larabee, but I was figurin' you were a smart man and well if ya just want to sit there in those dirty, wet clothes and let them two bullet wounds get infected then that's just fine by me, but," he looked at the blond and smiled. "If Miss Rosemary sees yer legs infected she just might decide ta cut the damn thing off. She'd do it right fine too...saw it a couple of times. So, what's it gonna be?"

Chris glared at the other man for several long seconds before reluctantly giving in. Right now he felt weaker than a newborn calf and he knew part of the dizziness was caused by blood loss and pain. With dogged determination, Chris forced himself to stand and leaned heavily against the wall. The pain was a constant now and mixed with his anger became a volatile explosion waiting to happen.

"Ain't much ta ya is there?"

"Put down the gun and I'll show you!" Larabee warned and wondered at the strength he saw in the other man's eyes.

"No...no, I don't think that's a wise idea right now. Ain't gonna take a chance on Miss Rosemary being angry at me. So, here's what we're gonna do. First, get outta them wet clothes like I told ya to. Then ya'll step outside and wash the mud off ya and then I got me a set of manacles just made for yer wrists and ankles. Once I got ya fitted with them ya can rest...if yer real good I might even give ya some water and beans."

"All heart!" Larabee sneered, but understood he had little choice, but to obey while Turner held the gun.

"Ain't I though," Turner said, grinning as Larabee began removing his bloodied clothing from his body.

Chris bit his lip as he tried to ride out the pain running rampant in his body, but he wasn't entirely successful in keeping it to himself. Turner's laughter grated on his nerves as Chris removed his boots and socks and cried out as his right foot hit the floor and took the brunt of his weight.

"All right, looks like yer ready! Get on outside and wash that shit off. I'll be watching ya the whole time!"

Chris braced his left arm tight against the wound in his side as he limped towards the door. His head was pounding again and he knew he was probably suffering the effects of a concussion along with the other injuries he'd incurred in his meeting with this man. Once outside the rain seemed to revitalize his spirit and anger drove him to turn on his captor, but the gun in the man's hand was trained at his gut and he knew there was only one way this fight could end.

"Smart man, Larabee," Turner said as he watched the gunfighter move out into the rain.

Chris stood in the torrential downpour as biting needles of rain struck his bare skin. The water washed away the dirt and blood and cooled his body until he stood shivering in front of the door. Turner motioned for him to step inside and Chris noted he always stood just out of his reach. Larabee was surprised when the man pointed to a rough but clean piece of material on the table and quickly dried off. Standing in nothing but his drawers he stared at his nemesis and wished he wore long johns like Buck Wilmington, but he'd always hated the way they seemed to hold his body captive.

"All right, Larabee. If you look at the table you'll see a pair of manacles. Ya take one and wrap it around your right wrist and the other one ya fasten to the hook in the floor in the corner. Come on now get a move on 'cause I'd just as soon put ya down myself!"

Chris seethed inwardly, but felt his energy giving out as he picked up the manacles and placed one around his wrist and walked to the corner where he fastened the second manacle.

"Very good," Turner sneered and threw the second set of manacles at the injured blond. "These go around your ankles."

Again Chris's anger flared, but there was so much pain in his body that he could do little more than glare at his hated foe. He quickly placed the cuffs around his ankle and found the room spinning as his vision blurred. The room took on a decidedly slanted look as the blond's body sagged towards the mattress in the corner. Heavy lids closed over dangerously unfocused green eyes as Larabee gave into the cloying darkness of unconsciousness.

"Ya ain't so tough!" Turner said as he threw a blanket haphazardly over the injured prisoner. Turning away from his prisoner, Ethan whistled as he placed the gun on the table out of Larabee's reach and walked out into the rain to wash away the dirt encrusting his own clothing.

---

"I'll join you in a minute, Buck. Rosemary is a good friend and she's having problems with her husband. I'm the only one she trusts to talk about it."

"I hope it's nothing serious, Angela."

"No, not really. He just drinks a lot and leaves her in a bind sometimes. We usually work things out until Joseph does something else. I wish she'd consider leaving him, but she does love him and who am I to judge."

"You're a friend and that says a lot. I'm going to check with Manual and see if Chris came back."

"Isn't he here?"

"No, I checked the house but no one's seen him."

"Don't worry too much, Buck. Chris probably saw the storm brewing and decided he'd stay in town until it passed."

"Probably, but I'd sure like to know. Carmon's got coffee ready, but I told her we'd be a few minutes yet," Wilmington said.

"How did you get her to understand?" Tate asked with a grin.

"I'm a man of many talents, Darlin', and women simply understand me."

"Yes, well, I hope I'm the only one who really enjoys your very special talents from now on."

"Oh, believe me you are," Wilmington said before kissing her and grabbing his hat. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"I'll be here." She watched him leave and hurried to meet her friend in the parlor. One look at the other woman told her something was wrong.

"Where is Buck?"

"He's gone to see if Chris has returned from town. What's going on?"

"Larabee came into the hotel and asked to send a telegram. It concerned you and your deceased husband."

"Damn it! I knew he couldn't be trusted! Where is he now?"

"I tore up the telegram after he left and got Ethan to help me set up an ambush. He should have Larabee at the line shack in the north section of my ranch."

"Thank you, Rosie, you always take care of me."

"We take care of each other, Angela. Now you'll need to come up with a reason for Larabee's disappearance!"

"I'll come up with something."

"Good, because Buck seems to be the type to always worry about others. He'll want to know why Larabee left."

"Especially since he expected Chris to be his best man."

"Yes, well, that's not going to happen. As soon as this storm's over I'm going to ride out to the line shack. I'll need bandages, carbolic acid and just about anything else you have to help me care for him. You do still want him alive?"

"For now. I've got everything you need including laudanum and sleeping draughts. There are plenty of bandages and other stuff in the storage cellar."

"I'll take them when I leave. Any idea what you'll tell Buck?"

"I was thinking I could tell him he came to you and had you send a message to Four Corners. I'm sure they planned on letting the others know they arrived safe and sound. Perhaps you could say he received an answer while still in town and he left in a hurry. Maybe he even told you where he was going. That would take the pressure off for a while."

"I could do that, but for now let's leave things as they are and let Buck think Larabee stayed in town for the night."

"All right...I think I hear him coming," Angela said and hurried to meet him at the door. "Oh, Buck, you're soaked to the skin again. Why don't you go change and meet us in the kitchen?"

"Sounds good."

"Did Manual see Chris?"

"No, he hasn't come back yet."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Buck. Chris probably found one of the saloon girls and is curled up with her as we speak."

"I hope so, Angela, because if Chris is out in this he's in trouble!"

"Rosie," Tate said and turned to her friend.

"Yes," Clark said.

"Did you see a man dressed all in black while you were in town?"

"Blond...good looking?"

"Yes," Angela answered and nodded slightly for her to continue.

"As a matter of fact he came into the hotel and wanted to send a telegram."

"You saw Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"Not only did I see him, but I spoke to him and sent a telegram for him."

"Where to?"

"A place called Four Corners," Rosemary answered.

"Four Corners? Why would he send a message there?"

"All the message said was that you arrived safely and his name."

"Did he say where he was going after that?"

"I believe he went to have a drink with Sheriff Rawlings..."

"Evan Rawlings?"

"Yes, oh I forgot you and Chris knew Evan. He's still doing a wonderful job of taking care of us," Angela said. "Buck, it sounds to me like Chris and Evan probably got talking about old times and Chris decided to stay in town!"

"Maybe...we'll see."

"There's nothing you can do about it until the storm ends, Buck, so there's no sense worrying until we find out for sure what's happened. Now come on and I'll help you out of those clothes."

"Darlin', if you're gonna help me out of them I doubt if we'll be joining Mrs. Clark for supper."

"Please, call me Rosie. After all if you're marrying my best friend we should be on a first name basis."

"Rosie it is," Wilmington said and smiled as the two women took an arm each and walked him towards the back of the house.

---

Chris watched through hooded eyes as his captor moved around the line shack. The man had a fire going and was warming something in a pot, but the smell only added to his churning discomfort. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but the storm seemed to have abated. The blanket covering him was rough, but clean and he also realized his wounds had been tended while he'd been blissfully unaware of his surroundings. He didn't want to alert the other man of his return to consciousness, but he had to move as the pain intensified and he bit his lip to stop the groan from escaping.

"Well, yer finally awake. Ya'll be glad to know I've already cleaned yer wounds, but Miss Rosie got some work to do when she gets here. The bullet in yer leg's not that deep, but that one in yer side's gonna be a real bitch to get to. I got some beans warmed up...ya want some?"

"No!" Larabee spat as he tried to move, but found his body held immobile by the manacles, which seemed to have been tightened while he slept.

"Figure ya'd be easier ta handle if ya can't move and it'll keep ya from bleedin' out before Miss Rosie gets here."

"Why the hell are ya doin' this?" Larabee ground out as his captor stood over him.

"Money. Miss Rosie pays real well for my services. Yer not the first one ta fall for my innocent baby face."

"What does she want with me?"

"It ain't Miss Rosie that wants ya out of the way..."

"Angela Tate?" Larabee asked simply. He didn't trust the woman and somehow she'd found out he was trying to find out about her.

"Yep, she don't want you ruinin' her plans. Miss Rosie and her are real close and they'd do anything for each other."

"Then why didn't she just have you kill me?"

"Well now, that's something I'm not real sure on. I think it has something ta do with that man Angela Tate's marrying. They figure if Buck starts looking for you they'll need something ta convince him to stay around. With you as a hostage she'll be able to keep him in line."

"Buck ain't stupid! He'll figure this out!"

"Maybe...maybe not. Don't really matter since you're here as a hostage, if they need ta use ya. Now, do ya want some beans?"

"No," Larabee answered and looked at the bucket on the table.

"Ya want some water?"

Larabee nodded and soon wished he'd refused it as his captor knelt beside him and lifted his head. The glass was placed to his lips and he started drinking, but when he tried to pull away he found his head held fast and the liquid being poured quickly down his throat. Chris was forced to swallow again and again, choking and sputtering as the movement jarred his injuries and sent streaks of agonizing pain through his skull. He had no idea how much water was in the glass, but it felt as if he'd swallowed a river as his head was released and he tried to turn on his side. The water rose in his throat and streamed down his cheek as his stomach rebelled from the influx of liquid. Before he could relax, his head was lifted again and something pressed against his lips. He fought not to open his mouth as his nemesis laughed at his weakness and finally cried out as a hand pressed against the wound in his left side. The cry was quickly cut off as more water was poured down his throat and he again tried to swallow. Again and again his enemy continued the water torture without giving the blond a chance for respite. Briefly Chris wondered if it was possible to drown a person by forcing water down their throats at an alarming rate, but his head was soon released and again he vomited the water before losing consciousness once more.

Ethan Turner smiled as he looked at the gunfighter and placed the empty glass on the table. He knew Larabee had come close to choking to death on the water he poured down his throat, but he'd stopped just short of killing him. He'd seen it done before and knew several men who swore you could kill a man by drowning him with a simple bucket of water.

"Oh, we're going to have such fun, Larabee," Turner vowed and walked back to the table. He sat in the chair and watched his prisoner. He'd been in this position before, but the others had been weaklings and easily subdued. A man like Chris Larabee, a well-known gunfighter, was something new for him and he was going to break him before he killed him.

Turner served up a bowl of beans and sat back at the table once more. He studied the captive and knew the blankets hid more than the two bullet wounds. Larabee's impact with the ground had left a myriad of bruises and cuts that would need to be tended by Rosemary Clark. There were deep bruises on the man's lower back and he knew the blond would be in pain if he stood up. The wound over his right eye had swollen and discolored the skin on that side of his face. Smiling, Turner knew this man could still take him apart if given the chance, but he was not about to give the gunfighter that chance. Moving towards the captive he checked the bonds and was pleased to find them still as tight as ever.

---

Angela woke as dawn was cutting through the night sky and she eased away from Wilmington. Standing naked beside the bed she watched as he shifted, but finally relaxed in sleep once more. She turned away from the bed and grabbed her robe before walking out of the room. She knocked softly on Rosemary's door and smiled as the woman opened it and motioned her inside.

"I was hoping I'd see you before I left. The supplies are on my horse and I'll be riding out to the line shack as soon as I'm done here."

"Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, I checked the saddle bags myself and you know I keep that particular shack well stocked."

"I do indeed. Now that we've set the stage for the ruse about Larabee you'll have to go into town and set things up there before Buck decides to check Chris's whereabouts himself."

"Can you keep him here today?"

"Oh, I believe I can, Rosie. If not I'll simply resort to one of those powders you gave me."

"Good, because I'll need to make sure Rawlings thinks Larabee left town right after they had their drink. I'll talk to Joseph and make sure he knows how to cover for me."

"Will Joseph do as you tell him?"

"Of course...Joseph Clark is and always will be, under my thumb," Rosemary Clark smiled knowingly at her friend.

"Yes, and if I need your help to keep Buck under my thumb..."

"All you have to do is ask," Clark said and the two women hugged before walking out of the room and to the front door.

"Thank you, Rosie."

"No thank are needed, Angela. I want you to be happy and if this man gives you that than I will be only too glad to help out." Rosemary Clark hurried towards the waiting horse and quickly mounted up.

Angela leaned against the door and watched as her friend rode out of sight. There were many secrets they shared and this added to their friendship and the loyalty they continued to cherish. How many men had died because they'd stumbled onto those secrets, she didn't know, but there were more than she could count on both hands. She heard a sound behind her and pushed the door just as Wilmington pulled on it. She stumbled into his arms and smiled as he held her for several long seconds.

"Now this is more like it," the gentle rogue said as her scent seemed to intoxicate him.

"Hmm, I do love the feel of your strong arms, Buck, but I thought you were still sleeping."

"I was, but I thought I heard a rider and wanted to see if it was Chris."

"No, I'm afraid not. Rosie just left for home."

"Is she okay?"

"Oh yes, she'll be fine now. Why don't you and I go back to bed and I'll have Carmon serve breakfast there?"

"I'd love to, Angela, but I want to ride into town and see if Chris has turned up."

"Well, you're not leaving on an empty stomach, Buck. I'll have Carmon make biscuits, eggs, bacon, and coffee."

"Angela..."

"I won't hear of it, Buck. Come on...Chris is a big boy and can look after himself."

"Yes...he can, but sometimes trouble has a way of finding him when he least expects it," Wilmington said and missed the look that flashed across her face.

'Little do you know,' she thought with a wry grin. She led him back to their room and watched as he finished getting dressed. She needed to keep Buck at the ranch today and she would do whatever was necessary to see that he didn't leave. The powders would make him sleep, but those would be used only as a last resort.

"What are you thinking about, Angela?" Wilmington asked as he finished buttoning his shirt.

"I was thinking about how happy you've made me."

"It didn't take much from me..."

"Oh really?" Tate asked. "It took a marriage proposal..."

"And a yes answer from the most beautiful woman to ever grace the earth we stand on."

"Oh, Buck, you do know how to make a woman blush. Now why don't we go eat before you leave," Tate suggested.

"All right, but first I want to tell Manual to saddle my horse. I want to leave right after breakfast."

"Hmm," she said, kissing him once more. "Don't be long."

"I won't," Wilmington promised and hurried out of the room.

Angela walked to her dresser and opened the small chest nestled at the back of the top drawer. She took one of the envelopes and placed it inside the pocket sewn into the bodice of her dress. She would only use it as a last resort, but she hoped her other plan would work and keep Buck at her side. Sighing heavily she strode towards the kitchen and took a seat as Carmon served her a cup of hot coffee.

---

Buck patted his stomach and looked at the older woman who'd served up a wonderful breakfast. "I couldn't eat another bite."

"Are you sure? I could have Carmon serve another..."

"No...no, believe me I can't. I don't think my horse will be as appreciative as I am of Carmon's cooking. He's gonna bitch all the way ta Midfield and back."

"Oh, Buck, that big bay of yours could easily carry you to town and back no matter how much you ate. Come on, I'll walk you to the barn."

"Gonna kiss me goodbye too?"

"Only if you kiss me back..."

"Ain't your back I want to kiss, Darlin'," Wilmington assured her as they linked arms and walked out through the kitchen door. They reached the barn where Manual had Buck's horse saddled and ready to go. He took the reins and still held Angela's arm as they walked around to the front of the house. Once there he kissed her and watched her walk up the three steps to the porch before she turned and smiled at him.

"Oh, Buck...NOOO!" she screamed as her boot caught on the step and she found herself falling towards the ground.

"Angela!" Wilmington shouted and moved to catch her, but was not in time as her head struck the ground and she lay still. He gently turned her onto her back and cradled her body in his arms as he called for help. A livid bruise was forming on the left side of her head as he lifted her into his arms and stood up. He kicked open the door just as Manual came around the corner.

"Madre De Dios! What has happened?"

"She fell. Get Carmon and make her understand that I need water and cloths and ice if she has it. Send someone into Midfield for the doctor!"

"Si, Senior, it will be done!"

Buck carried the unconscious woman to the room they'd shared and laid her on the bed. He quickly removed her boots and heard a soft moan from the woman as he reached up to touch her cheek.

"Easy, Angela, just lay still."

"B...Buck, what happened? My head hurts!"

"You fell, Darlin, and hit your head."

"Fell? How? I d...don't remember."

"That's okay. I sent someone for the doc and he'll make sure you're okay."

"Doc's in t...town...you w...were going to t...town. W...worried about C...Chris!"

"I'll go into town later, Angela, right now it's you I'm worried about. Carmon's bringing some cloths and ice and we'll see how big that bump is."

"Stay...stay with m...me?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Darlin'," Wilmington vowed as her eyes began to close once more. He sat by her bed as Carmon brought in water and towels and helped him undress her. Once he'd bathed the wound he sat back, glad that it hadn't broken the skin and yet, Buck knew head wounds were not something to fool around with. Sighing tiredly he sat back and waited for the doctor to come out to the ranch.

---

The sun had reached its zenith as Rosemary Clark drew her horse to a halt outside the line shack. Chris Larabee was not the first unwilling guest to be held here and he probably would not be the last. She grabbed the saddlebags just as the door opened and Ethan Turner stepped out.

"Thought I heard someone ride up."

"How is Larabee?"

"He's a mess. Think he's probably gettin' a fever too."

"That's to be expected. Did you clean him up last night?" Clark asked as she handed the heavy saddlebags to her cohort.

"Sure did...made him strip down to his drawers and stand in the rain. Cleaned him up real good."

"I'm sure," Clark said, smiling as she stepped through the door. Larabee was lying on his back in one corner of the room and she could see Turner had managed to get him restrained in that position. She quickly knelt beside him and felt for a pulse at his neck. Her early years had been spent working in a hospital in St Louis and now she was using much of what she'd learned there. Pulling back the blanket she winced at the colorful bruises and contusions covering his upper body. Pressing against one especially deep bruise she felt the lean body flinch away from her touch.

"He's got one hell of a bruise on his back too. Musta hit it hard!"

"I'll check that after. Right now I need to take care of those bullet wounds. Get me some hot water and there's a bottle of whiskey in one of those saddlebags."

"Good, I'm thirsty!"

"The whiskey's not for you...at least not yet. I need to clean out the wounds and I only have a little carbolic with me. I have Laudanum and we'll use that to keep him controllable. Did he try anything?"

"Hell yeah, but he took the worst of it."

"Is that where this boot shaped bruise came from?"

"Had ta show 'im who's in charge. Took the lesson pretty hard though," Turner said with a wry grin.

"Get my things, Ethan, and from now on you leave Larabee alone unless I tell you otherwise!" Clark warned and knew the man would do as she ordered. She heard Turner move away and watched as Larabee fought to return to consciousness. Even with the bruises and swelling she still thought he was a handsome man and she ran her fingers along his jaw. His hands clenched tightly as he fought the restraints and Rosemary was glad he couldn't move. The eyelids finally fluttered open and the sea green eyes glared dangerously at her.

"W...what the h...hell is this?" He gasped as she touched his wounded leg.

"You should have kept your nose out of our business, Chris. It would've been so much simpler if you had."

"Y...you're the...that woman from t...the hotel!"

"That's right and I don't think you'll be getting an answer to your telegram I'm afraid!"

"You B...bitch! Let me out of these!"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question. Right now I'm going to remove the bullets from your side and leg and I think you'll be happy you're restrained when I start digging around in there. The leg's not so bad, but well that side is another story altogether. The way I see it you should be grateful that I have received some medical training, although it has been a while since I've had to remove bullets."

"D...don't touch me!"

"I don't think you're in any position to stop me. Ah, Ethan, put the saddlebags on the table and pour some hot water into the bowl. Oh add a little carbolic and then I want you to clean the area surrounding the wounds. I'll be back as soon as I have my instruments ready!"

Chris watched her stand with a mixture of trepidation and fear, but he didn't let it show on his face as Turner came towards him. The man's face was filled with malicious glee as he set the basin down beside the makeshift bed.

"Get a...way from me!" Larabee ground out, but knew there was nothing he could do to stop Turner or the woman. He tried to shift away, but the other man clamped down on his leg and Chris fought to keep from crying out as Turner lifted a cloth from the water and carbolic mixture and placed it against the bullet wound. The liquid burned like molten lava and Chris bucked against the ropes and manacles holding him to the floor.

"That gotcher attention!" Turner spat and smiled as he scrubbed Larabee's right thigh.

"S...sick fuckin' bastard!" Larabee groaned as the woman knelt opposite Turner. Chris saw her place several instruments to her left before she looked at him.

"Now, I can do this and let you scream or I can give you some Laudanum and it should ease the pain. Your choice!"

"Don't d...do me a...any fuckin' favors!" Larabee snarled.

"Suit yourself. Ethan, are you done there?"

"Think so," Turner said and lifted the blood soaked cloth. "Damn, I made it bleed again."

"Clean the one on his side while I see to this one!"

"Leave it!" the blond ordered, but the weakness of his voice had no effect on his tormentors.

"I can't have you dying on us just yet, Chris. You see we need to make sure Buck thinks you went back to Four Corners and once we're sure of that then I'll find a way to dispose of you!"

"Buck won't b...believe you!"

"Oh, I think he will, especially once I show him the telegram you received. You couldn't stay long enough to tell him and you left a message with me to give to Buck."

"W...won't believe..."

"Sure he will, but right now I don't have time to argue with you. It's time to do this!"

Chris groaned as he felt the scalpel press against the wound in his leg. He bit his bottom lip, drawing blood even as Turner roughly cleaned the wound in his side. The gunfighter had been hurt before...been shot, beaten, stabbed and any number of other wounds, but he couldn't remember ever hurting like this. It felt as if the woman was using an ax to tear open his flesh and pull out the smashed piece of lead and there was nothing he could do to stop her or the man grinding a wet cloth against his ravaged flesh. He fought the excruciating touch and gasped in relief as he heard the sound of a bullet hit the basin.

"That's the easy one!" Clark said and smiled as Chris Larabee's rasping curse reached her ears. "So, you're still with me! I've never had a man stay awake through an extraction like that."

"Bet he won't like the next one none!" Turner said with a grin as he shifted out of the woman's way.

"Would you like to reconsider the Laudanum, Chris?"

"G...go to h...hell...Ahhhh!" the cry of pain escaped from his throat as the blade was pressed against his side. He thought he knew what pain was, but never before could he remember it being so maliciously enjoyed. He heard Turner's cackling laughter as he fought against the restraints. His breathing became labored as the woman drove the scalpel deeper into his ravaged skin. He felt the edges of darkness begin to spread across his vision as his eyes dropped closed and he gave in to his body's need for relief.

"Looks like ya were too much for him, Miss Rosemary," Turner explained as Larabee went limp under her touch. He heard the woman curse as she continued to probe for the bullet and again wondered why they were even bothering. Sooner or later Chris Larabee was going to die anyway, so why prolong his life. He looked at the woman as she concentrated on the task at hand and was glad he wasn't the one under her touch.

---

Buck watched as Angela Tate moved slightly on the bed he'd shared with her since arriving. The woman's face was still unmarked by the passing of years, yet there was something about her that struck him as deadly. Shaking his head he pushed back this new train of thought as her eyelids flickered and finally lifted revealing green eyes.

"B...Buck?"

"I'm right here, Darlin', how do you feel?"

"My head hurts."

"I know...doc's on the way."

"Doc? Why?" Angela forced the words through her throat and kept up the pretense that she really was in pain. She knew Wilmington well enough to know he would stay beside her if he thought something was truly wrong and right now she needed him by her side.

"You hit your head, Angela," Wilmington said as he brushed the hair back from her face.

"I...I did?"

"Yeah, had me worried."

"D...don't be," Tate said and reached for his hand.

"Easier said than done when the woman I love and intend to marry is hurtin'," Wilmington said as the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. He turned to see an older man with silver streaked black hair enter the room.

"Hello, I'm Doc Morton. How'd this happen?" the physician asked as he looked at the vivid bruise on the woman's face.

"She fell and hit her head," the worried rogue explained as he continued to hold the woman's hand in his own.

"Angela, are you hurt anywhere else?" Richard Morton asked.

"No, just my head," the woman said and closed her eyes against the bright light seeping through the window.

"Who are you?" Morton asked.

"Buck Wilmington. Angela and me are getting married!"

"Is that right?"

"Yes, we are," Tate said.

"Well, congratulations. Now Mr. Wilmington..."

"Buck!"

"Buck, please close those curtains so the sunlight doesn't cause more pain than she's already in," the doctor ordered. "Now, Angela, let's take a look at you!"

Angela kept her eyes closed and moaned when the doctor probed the swollen area. It was tender, but she knew how to play it up and heard the concern in Wilmington's voice as he returned to her side and asked about her condition. She opened her eyes slightly and squinted at the two men before letting her gaze come to rest on her fiancé.

"Buck, I'm fine. Just a headache."

"A big one from the sounds of it," Morton said as he sat back in the chair and reached for a packet of powder in his bag. He turned to the other man and handed him the medicine. "Make sure Carmon mixes this. She knows the proportions and how often Angela can have it."

"I don't need..."

"Hush up now, Darlin', Doc says you need it then you're gonna take it," Wilmington chastised lightly.

"Well, I can see you're in good hands so I'll leave you to it. Buck, make sure she stays in bed for at least twenty-four hours. Don't let her fool you into letting her up!"

"I won't, Doc."

Angela smiled inwardly as she watched the two men walk towards the door. Morton had ordered twenty-four hours of bed rest and she now had the means to keep Wilmington from riding into Midfield in search of Chris Larabee. She hoped it was enough time for Rosemary Clark to put their plan in motion. If not she had a hostage and would use him to keep her lover in line. She quickly lost the smile as her fiancé returned to her side and reached for her hand.

"Carmon's mixing some of the powder for you, Darlin'."

"I don't really need it, but if it'll make you feel better I'll drink it," Tate explained as she looked into worried blue eyes.

"You always did worry about others before yourself," Wilmington said and kissed her cheek.

"Buck, I know you're worried about, Chris. I'm fine and Carmon will be here so why don't you ride into town with doc and find out where he is?"

"I'm not leaving you like this, Angela. Like you said, Chris is a big boy and can look after himself. You go ahead and sleep and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Hmm," Angela mumbled and closed her eyes as a thrill raced up and down her spine. She had this man where she wanted him and nothing was going to take him away from her. She remained quiet for several long minutes before opening her eyes and reaching for the handsome rogue. "Buck, lie down with me."

"I don't think..."

"Sh, trust me, please. I just need to feel your strong arms around me," Tate said as Carmon brought the powder mixture and placed it on the table before leaving without a word.

"You drink all of this and I'll lie down with you."

"Under the blankets?"

"I...I..."

"Please, Buck, I need to feel you near me," the woman cajoled and was glad when the ladies' man acquiesced. She drank the warm tea and watched as Wilmington removed his clothing and slid under the blankets. She moved closer to him and smiled as he placed his arm under his head as she maneuvered her body until she was spooned up against him. She felt his hand on her shoulder and gently eased it down to her breast before sighing contentedly. This was how her life should be; lying next to the man she loved, without any cares in the world.

"Angela?"

"Hmm," she mumbled as if half asleep.

"You know I love you."

"I know."

"Would you be willing to give all this up and move to Four Corners if I asked you too?"

"I'd go anywhere with you, Buck," Tate answered and fought to keep the irritation out of her voice. There was no way she would leave her home, and she would not allow Buck Wilmington to leave either. This was their destiny and she would see that he stayed at her side...willingly or not.

"That's good, Darlin', but we'll talk about it again when you're not hurt," the gentle rogue said and closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of his lover, unaware of the anger that burned through her mind.

---

Rosemary Clark looked down at the captive and knew he would be trouble if she allowed him any freedom. They'd moved him to the bed and she still heard Turner's angered grumbling, but knew the man would do anything she asked as long as she kept him supplied with funds. She ran her eyes over Larabee's battered body and knew she'd done all she could for now. The bullet she'd removed from his side had caused heavy bleeding and they would have to get him drinking before long or she would have to resort to a feeding tube to keep him hydrated. She'd inserted them before and knew of the dangers involved, but would use it if she had to. Her attention returned to the blond as she pulled the blanket up over him and sat in the chair next to the bed and watched his eyes open and fight to focus.

"So, you've decided to rejoin us. How do you feel?" She asked as she checked the bonds holding him to the bedposts.

"Get these fucking things off me!"

"I'm afraid that's not possible and if you don't start speaking in a respectable voice I'll have Ethan gag you once more."

"Bitch!"

"Ethan, would you bring me one of the strips of cloth?"

"Sure thing," Turner said and moved to the table.

"Fuckin' kill you!"

"I'm sure you'd like to try, but I'm afraid I can't give you an opportunity to see if you can do that. Now, are you going to keep a civil tongue in your head or do I have Ethan silence you?"

"Let me do it!" Turner said as he pressed against Larabee's wounded side.

"Ethan, control yourself and keep your hands off him unless I tell you! Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am, just don't 'preciate anyone bad mouthin' ya!"

"Thank you, Ethan, it's nice to know there are still gentlemen in this world. Now, Chris, there are a few things you need to understand before you answer my question about the gag. First, I need to keep you alive and am willing to do anything to keep you that way. Second, if keeping you alive means forcing a tube down your throat and feeding you that way I will do it. I don't really want to, but it's something that can easily be done, but is very uncomfortable for you. Third, there are several degrees to keeping you alive and not all of them are pleasant. I'm afraid Ethan is not as appreciative of good looking men as I am and I would be saddened if I allow him to mark such a handsome face before the swelling goes down. I have done an admirable job of putting stitches in your head and would not like to do so again. I know you think I'm cruel..."

"Cold bitch!" Larabee groaned as a hand clamped onto the wound on his right thigh and tried to twist out of her grasp, but succeeded only in awakening the monstrous pain throughout his body. "Fuckin' bitch!"

"That's it! Gag him, Ethan!"

"My pleasure, Ma'am!"

"D...don't fuckin' touch me!" Larabee ground out before a cloth was shoved brutally into his mouth and he was forced to breathe through his nose. His anger increased and he twisted his head back and forth as the woman placed a hand on each cheek and held him fast.

"Now that I have your undivided attention I'll say this once more and this time I want you to think about your friend Wilmington. Angela loves him very much and they are going to be married whether you like it or not!"

'No!' Chris's anger increased and he tried to breathe past the mounting waves of nausea. The woman's face was mere inches from his own and her scent assaulted his nostrils as he fought to control his anger and pain.

"You're alive right now because she doesn't want to hurt him, but if it comes down to it, Angela will use you to keep her fiancé in line. I'm sure Buck Wilmington would not appreciate one of your fingers as a warning! Do you?" Clark asked as she reached for the index finger on his left hand and bent it back.

Chris cried out behind the gag as he felt the digit break and knew the woman before him was a spawn of hell. She inflicted pain for the sake of seeing a man squirm and enjoyed the control she thought she had over him. He knew she would do anything to keep him in line and right now there was nothing much he could do to stop her. If he was going to get out of this alive, and right now the chance of that was very slim, he would have to play his cards differently and let her think she had control.

'Who the fuck are you trying to kid, Larabee? She does have control!' He thought as she released his hand and stared at him once more.

"I see I have your attention now, Chris. I do don't I?"

Larabee nodded and felt the room around him waver as the pain in his skull increased. His breathing was troubled as he tried to keep from being sick.

"Very well. Would you like me to remove the gag?" She smiled as he nodded slightly and reached for the gag.

Chris knew he was going to be sick and there was no way to move as his stomach gave up its meager contents and landed on the sheets around him and the woman's hands. He heard her curse, but didn't hear anything except a loud scream and finally understood it was coming from him as something slammed into his stomach and darkness reached out to enfold him in its welcoming arms.

Joseph Clark looked up as the door opened and his wife entered the room. Although she was much younger than he was, she loved him and for that he would do anything in his power to please her. He knew of her activities with Angela Tate, but was too lost in his own lust to do anything about them. He rose from his seat and walked over to greet her with open arms.

"Rosemary, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Joseph, just tired is all."

"I made dinner for us," the older man said and took her hands to lead her into the kitchen.

"I'm not really hungry, Joseph, but I'll try. I'm so sorry I'm late."

"It's okay, honey. You're home now. Did you see Angela today? Is that why you're so tired?"

"I saw Angela this morning and spent last night there because of the storm. I hope you weren't too worried."

"I was, but I figured that's where you went after you left the hotel. Is everything all right over there?"

"Yes, she's fine and I met her fiancé. He seems very nice and well suited to Angela."

"I'm glad."

"Joseph, I need you to do something for me," Rosemary said as he held the chair out for her and took the seat across the table.

"Anything, Rosemary, my life is yours," the love struck man said and reached for her hand.

"I know you don't like it when I ask you to help me with something that might go against the law, but it's important to me."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No, but I might be if you don't help me. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

"What do you need?"

"The man Angela is marrying loves her very much and would do anything for her, but his friend is a miserable lowlife who does not want to see his friend happy. He'll try anything to stop the wedding and I...I did something to see that he would not be able to hurt Angela and her fiancé."

"What have you done, Rosemary?" Joseph asked and wearily leaned back in his chair, the meal momentarily forgotten. The woman across from him was like an addiction and there was no way he could refuse her as tears came to her eyes.

"I had to, Joseph. Do you remember that man who came in and wanted to send a telegram?"

"The one you took care of...dressed all in black."

"Yes, that's him. He wanted me to send a telegram to St. Louis and you know what would've happened then. They'd come for me, Joseph, and we'd never be together again. I know I'm asking a lot from you, but I need you to help me stop that from happening. I love you so much and cannot bear the thought of not being with you!"

"I could not live without you, Rosemary. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to make sure no one is suspicious of Chris Larabee's disappearance. All it takes is for you to deliver a telegram to Buck Wilmington at Angela's home..."

"What telegram?"

"One that I'll write. It will just say that he had to go back to Four Corners and that he'd return as soon as he took care of business there. It won't be very detailed, but it should stop Wilmington's suspicions for a while."

"Then what?"

"Tell Sheriff Rawlings that you saw Larabee leave shortly after they spoke in the saloon and that he said he was going back to Four Corners. Tomorrow you will send a telegram to Four Corners and tell them that their friends arrived safely. That should keep them off our trail for some time to come."

"All right, but there is something you have to promise me."

"Anything, Joseph," Rosemary said and came to kneel in front of her husband.

"Is Larabee alive?"

"Yes, but he's been hurt."

"Did you take care of him?"

"Yes, we need him in case Wilmington decides against a marriage to Angela."

"I want your promise that you will not kill Larabee!"

"I may not be able to stop it, Joseph, because if he lives then he's always going to be a threat to me...to us. Do you want to take that chance with our happiness?"

"I don't want you to kill him!"

"I promise I won't kill him," Rosemary stated as he hugged her to him. It was an easy promise, one she knew she could keep for she would not be the implement for Chris Larabee's death, but she would be there when he breathed his last.

"Thank you, Rosemary. I love you so much," the older man said as he drank in the scent of her and reveled once more in the love she had for him.

"I love you, Joseph, more than you'll ever know," the woman said as he held her close. She knew Joseph Clark would soon be disposable and at his age it would simply be explained as a weak heart or something similar. She snuggled against him and sighed contentedly as she waited for him to release her once more.

---

Buck remained close to his fiancé as she cried out in pain and knew he could not leave her side. He'd slept off and on during the day, only leaving her side to eat and check on the ranch. Carmon had fed Angela and also insisted on her taking the powder Dr. Morton had left for her. Now the darkness beyond the window was sending a shard of fear through his body. Chris Larabee had failed to return to the ranch and now it seemed likely that something had happened to prevent his return.

"Where the hell are you, Chris?" he whispered and felt the warm body shift up against him once more.

"Buck?"

"I'm right here, Angela. You okay?"

"I think so. Did I hear you say something about Chris? Is he back yet?"

"No...no he's not and I'm worried, Angela. Chris's got a lot of enemies and some of 'em wouldn't think twice about putting a bullet in his back. I need to find him."

"I know, Buck, and I'm sorry."

"You got nothing to be sorry for, Darlin'."

"Yes," she softly sobbed as she turned towards him. "If I hadn't gotten hurt you would already have gone to check on Chris and you wouldn't be so worried right now."

"Angela, look at me!" Wilmington ordered and waited for her to open her eyes. "You're not to blame for any of this. You were hurt and Chris'd understand why I stayed with you. Hell, he'd never forgive me if I left you because of him. If you're feeling better in the morning I'll leave for town and probably find Chris having a few drinks and talking about old times with Ethan."

"I hope so, Buck, because I can't stand the idea that Chris is hurt and I'm keeping you from helping your best friend," Tate said, laughing inwardly as she felt his arms tighten around her. She felt safe and cocooned in his hold and knew she would do anything to keep him in her bed.

---

Chris struggled against the darkness surrounding him, but there was so much pain he wasn't sure he could avoid it by staying where he was. He could hear someone moving around in his vicinity, but did not want to acknowledge the person as muffled curses reached his ears. He licked at dry lips and didn't realize he'd moaned until a hand clamped onto his chin. Forcing his eyes open he realized that his nightmare had followed him into the real world as he looked into the baby face of his tormentor.

"It's 'bout fuckin' time you woke up! I'm getting' mighty sick of cleanin' up after ya! Ain't getting' paid 'nough ta do this kinda woman's work!"

"G...go...ta...hell!"

"Don't ya know you're already there, Larabee, and I'm your very own devil!"

"Bastard!" Larabee cursed as Turner grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head backwards. The sickly odor of stale beer and tobacco assaulted his senses and he spit in the man's face.

"Sonofabitch! You'll pay for that!"

Chris gasped as his nemesis placed his hand on the bullet wound in his left side and waited for the pressure to be released. He could hardly breathe, as the pain became a constant heaviness that would not let go. He sucked in a shallow breath and fought down the urge to be sick as Turner's mocking laughter reached his ears.

"Let that be a lesson to ya. Miss Rosemary doesn't want me to mark ya anymore, but she didn't say nothin' about making ya uncomfortable! I figure I ain't adding injuries, just playing with the ones ya already got! Now she also wants me ta make sure you're eating, but if ya don't want anything just say so 'cause I'd just love ta see her put that tube down your fucking throat! Got it?"

"Y...yeah!" Larabee spat and groaned as the man released his grip on the raw wound.

"Good, now I ain't much on what someone hurt liken you should eat, but I got some liquefied beans and sopped 'em up with bread. Yer gonna eat it or Miss Rosemary's gonna force it on ya!"

Chris watched through hooded eyes as his tormentor turned away from him. He knew he had to choose the lesser of two evils and eat whatever Turner gave him, because he did not relish the idea of something being shoved down his throat. It was bad enough to have to lie here, helplessly, but to have to let this man feed him was a lesson in his own humility and one he was hard pressed to win. The smell of the beans was nauseating and he wondered if he could manage to eat it without being sick. He closed his eyes and fought to concentrate as Turner came back to the bed.

"Ain't bad 'nough I gotta let ya have my bed and my beans and bread, but I gotta feed ya too! Open your fuckin' mouth and eat this shit before I change my mind and let Miss Rosemary do what she's talkin' about!"

Chris knew there was no choice and opened his mouth. The liquefied beans and clumps of stale bread threatened to make him sick, but he fought to keep his churning stomach from making a return trip. He had no idea how many times the noxious stuff was placed at his mouth or how often he was forced to swallow, but was finally rewarded when Turner stood and walked over to the table. Chris closed his eyes and tried to 'curl' into a ball as his stomach cramped and pain traveled from one end of his body to the other, but it was impossible to move with the restraints holding him to the bed.

"Need ta make sure ya drink this too!" Turner didn't wait for an answer as he lifted his captive's head and placed the cup of warm liquid against his mouth. "Now ya drink it all or I'll just have to make you another one!"

Chris glared at his captor as he opened his lips and tasted the bitter brew. There was nothing he could do to stop the onslaught of liquid and he was forced to swallow again and again until the cup was empty and Turner once more left him alone. He searched his memory for the events that had led him to this point in his life and knew his only way out for now was Buck Wilmington. He wondered if his long time friend even knew he was missing and whether he was looking for him.

'Buck, don't marry that bitch!' he thought as he struggled with the pain. His mind began to wander and he quickly realized there'd been something added to the drink he'd been given.

"Fuckin' bastard," he cursed as the laudanum and his own exhaustion worked to pull him under once more.

---

Joseph Clark watched as the sheriff and another man came towards the hotel. He felt his stomach flip as he realized the man had to be Angela Tate's fiancé. Forcing a smile to his face and straightening his suit he greeted the newcomers.

"Hello, Sheriff, how are you today?"

"Hello, Joseph, I'm fine thank you. This man is looking for a friend of his and I believe he was in here day before yesterday."

"Rosie was here that day, but she's not here today. Not feeling very well I'm afraid."

"Damn, hope it's nothing serious, Joseph."

"I don't think so, Sheriff, but I insisted she stay home and get some rest."

"Were you here at all, Joseph?" Rawlings asked.

"As a matter of fact I was. The hotel can't run itself now can it," Clark answered.

"Guess not. Look we're looking for a man named Chris Larabee..."

"The gunslinger...so that's where I know him from."

"You know Chris?" Wilmington asked hopefully.

"Not really, just spoke to him the other day when he came in to send a message."

"What did he say? Where is he?"

"Now, just hold on a minute there, Mister..."

"Wilmington...Buck Wilmington. Look Chris is a good friend of mine and I've been trying to find him. Did he say anything when he left?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, he did. He had Rosemary send a message to someplace...can't rightly remember what it was."

"Four Corners?" Wilmington asked.

"That's it. He said he wanted to let them know you both made it here."

"Did she send it?"

"Of course she did. That was just before he went to the saloon and had a drink with you, Sheriff."

"We were there an hour or more and he said he was headed back to the Tate place, but he never made it..."

"No, don't expect he would," Clark advised.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wilmington spat.

"Well Mr. Larabee was on his way out of town when the message came in. Can't rightly remember who it was from...sheriff or something like that, but it asked that Mr. Larabee come back because he was needed to testify or something. Now unless I miss my guess he gave Rosemary a message to send back that said he was coming straight back because he wasn't letting the 'scumbag' as he called him get away with murder. He told me and Rosemary to let you know he'd contact you when he got back home and that he didn't want you to follow him so he left from here instead of going out to the Tate place."

"So why the hell didn't you come out and tell me?" the angry rogue asked.

"Well Mister, it's like this. We have a business to run and sometimes we just don't have time to take care of other people's problems. Rosemary was going to Angela's place to let you know," Clark informed him.

"She was there the day of the storm and didn't say anything!"

"She probably forgot because, well, see we had this little disagreement and she took off. We're okay now though and she'll tell you what Larabee said to her when she's up to it."

"What really happened to her? Did you hit her and that's why she's at home?" Wilmington spat and reached for the older man.

"Wait a minute, Buck, Joseph has never hit Rosemary in his life and I can vouch for that. Hell, they hardly even argue and when they do, it's Rosemary's voice and anger that gets raised!"

"I'm sorry, Ethan, but that's not how I see it. Rosemary came out to the ranch because she'd had some kind of argument with her husband. She was upset and stayed the night!"

"Angela is Rosemary's confidante and they talk about every little upset. If you're Angela's fiancé then you'd best get used to it!" Clark warned.

"At least she won't have to run to anyone when she's upset. I'm the kind of man who listens."

"All right, Buck, back off. I know you're upset about Chris, but that's no reason to take it out on Joseph. Come on and I'll buy you a drink and I'll let you buy me two."

"Yeah right! Guess I do owe you a few, but first let me send a telegram to Four Corners."

"All right, Buck, but hurry up. A man can die of thirst and boredom here, but hell if I suffer both then you're to blame."

"Don't go getting' your knickers in a knot, Evan. I'll be right there!" Wilmington said and wrote a short message that he slid across the desk. "Send that and get the answer to me as quick as you can! I'll pay whoever comes out to the Tate place for their troubles."

"Sure thing, Mr. Wilmington. I'm sorry about the mix up with your friend."

"Thanks, send that right away."

"I will," Clark said and began sending the message. He could feel Wilmington's eyes on him and was glad he'd had the fortitude to make sure the message would not go through. He finished what he was doing and then handed the paper back to Wilmington and watched as the man left the hotel.

"What have you gotten us in to, Rosemary?" he whispered before making sure everything was back in working order.

---

Evan Rawlings looked up from his drink as Buck Wilmington entered the busy saloon. The man looked worried and Rawlings wondered if he had good reason to be. Chris and Buck had always been close and somehow he didn't believe that Larabee would ride out without making sure Wilmington knew where he was going.

"Over here, Buck!" Rawlings called and waited for the ladies' man to join him.

Buck eyed the glass of beer and nodded his gratitude as he lifted it and drank half the contents in an effort to rid his throat of the dust he'd inhaled during his ride to Midfield. "Thanks, I needed that!"

"I'm sure you did."

"It's dustier here than I remembered."

"Sure is. So you're really going through with this."

"With what?"

"You're really going to get married and disappoint all those ladies who have their eyes on you."

"A man needs to settle down sometime."

"Yeah, he does, but I never thought I'd see the day you'd be tied down to one lady. Must be love," Rawlings said and saw the frown on Wilmington's face. "You do love her?"

"I...yes. No, hell I don't know," Wilmington said and realized the words were the truth. He didn't know if he loved Angela Tate anymore. He liked her...liked being with her and enjoyed their sexual prowess together, but was he in love with her?

"Well, shit, Buck, you're supposed to be marrying her and you don't even know if you love her anymore. Could be a cold marriage made in hell."

"No, don't think I'd say marriage made in hell, but I'm thinking maybe I need to talk to Angela. Maybe we're rushing things a bit. Hell we haven't seen each other in ten, twelve years. Jesus, I don't even know exactly how long it's been, but people change and I'm just starting to think maybe it was the excitement of seeing her again that got me thinking marriage."

"I'd say you'd best tell Miss Tate how you feel and give yourself time to look at things, before you say I do," Rawlings suggested.

"Hell of a thing coming in here and facing the truth, because you still ask questions that make a man think too hard. I don't know whether to thank you or shoot you!"

"I'd rather you said thank you. Been on the receiving end of a bullet more often than I'd like to think about," the sheriff said with a grin.

Wilmington ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and reached for the glass of beer once more. He downed the contents and ordered two more before shaking his head and looking at the other man once more.

"Damn, thought this was right, but now I ain't so sure. Thanks, Evan," the gentle rogue said as he took the second glass of beer.

"Hey, wasn't me. You must've been thinking about it yourself."

"Not until you asked me if I loved her."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing. I can tell you one thing though."

"What's that?"

"I'd be ready to take off as soon as you talk to Miss Tate. That woman has a temper that's as fiery as her hair!"

"Yeah, I remember," Wilmington said smiling as he sipped from the glass. "Guess nothing's ever easy."

"Not when there's a woman involved. Are you gonna stick around after you tell her?"

"I don't know, Evan. Guess it all depends on her and if I hear from Chris. Like I said I just don't know if I still love her or if I'm just trying to get back something I lost long ago."

"I think we're always trying to get back our youth, Buck, but I can safely say there's no way of doing that without being hurt. Maybe you'll find that you really do love her, but you owe it to yourself to think things through first."

"Guess so," Wilmington said and took a deep breath. He'd have a few more drinks and then head for the ranch, but he was not in a hurry to get there anymore. The thrill and excitement were not as enticing as they once were and he knew Evan Rawlings had opened his eyes to a truth about himself. He wasn't in love with Angela Tate anymore; he was in love with the idea of being in love.

---

Buck rode towards the Tate ranch and thought about the events of the day. He needed to speak with Angela's friend and find out exactly what Chris had told her. The drinks he'd had with Evan had done nothing to quell his worry and something told him Chris was in more trouble than he imagined. His thoughts quickly turned to Angela Tate and he felt a sudden chill at the thought of her.

He held tight to the reins as he shook off the chill and smiled as he thought of the morning spent in her arms. Their lovemaking had been a mixture of pleasure and pain that had left them both panting and breathless, but there had been something missing and he wasn't sure what it was. Suspicions were mounting and they were not easily squashed as he rode closer to his destination.

Frowning Buck pulled his horse to a stop just before topping the rise that would bring him in full view of the Tate ranch. Questions formed and he was hard pressed for any answers.

'You do love her don't you?' he silently asked and was again shocked when the answer came back too quickly. 'Used to anyway.'

"Damn!" he cursed and started the animal on a slow walk back to the ranch. The feelings he had for Angela Tate were not the ones he'd had when first hearing from her. The love they'd once shared was not the same depth it had once been and somehow he knew he would have to tell her it was over and that he wasn't ready for marriage yet. The trail quickly gave way to the entrance to the ranch and his attention was drawn to the figure standing on the porch.

Angela Tate was indeed a formidable woman and one that any man would be glad to marry, but Buck was beginning to understand that a marriage between them was not what he wanted after all. He knew bedding her was something he would have to live with, but he hadn't forced her into it, and they were both adults, yet he still felt a pang of guilt about how things were playing out. He sighed heavily as the woman smiled and walked out to meet him. The strain of her injury seemed to have dissipated, but the ugly bruise was still there.

"Buck, welcome home," Angela said as she drew up alongside the horse.

"Thanks, Angela," Wilmington said as he dismounted and turned the animal over to Manual.

"Is something wrong, Buck? Did you find out what happened to Chris?"

"Not really. I talked to Evan Rawlings and Joseph Clark."

"What did they say?" Tate asked as she wrapped her arm around his arm and walked slowly towards the house.

"Evan didn't know much, but Clark said Chris told his wife that he was going back to Four Corners."

"Well there you go," Angela said, laughing as they reached the door. "Chris always did like to do things on the spur of the moment."

"No, Angela, that's not Chris at all. He wouldn't just up and take off like that without making sure I knew what was happening. I sent a telegram to Four Corners and hopefully there'll be an answer by tomorrow."

"You're that worried about him?"

"Yeah, I am. He's a good friend, Angela, and he wouldn't run off like that."

"I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better, Buck."

"I know you do, Angela, and that's what makes this so hard." Wilmington turned her to face him and saw something flicker in her eyes that sent a chill down his spine.

"What so hard?"

"We need to talk, but I don't want to hurt you."

"Hurt me? Why would you hurt me?"

"I don't want to, Darlin', but I've been doing a lot of thinking today and I'm just not sure about getting married."

"But...you asked me and I said yes." The woman pouted as she tried to wrap her arms around him.

"I know I did, but I just can't see us marrying because of feelings we once had."

"Once had? Jesus, Buck, I have always loved you and always will! I know you feel the same way or you wouldn't have come all this way!"

"I thought I did love you, Angela, and I needed to see you to be sure! I know we have a lot of deep feelings, but is it love and is it enough to make a happy marriage? I need some time to think about it!"

"You bastard! How can you stand there after taking me to bed and fucking me and tell me you need time!"

"Angela..."

"Don't you Angela me! I'm good enough to be your fucking whore, but not good enough to take as your wife!"

Buck fought the urge to slap her as she continued her tirade and knew now that his feelings were not as deep as he first thought. "You're not a whore, Angela, and I'm sorry about all of this. I guess it's a good thing we're having this talk before we took our vows. I'll get my things and ride into town and leave for home tomorrow."

"No, God, please, Buck, you can't do this to me. I love you!"

"I'm sorry, I just wish we could have talked this through like adults. I hope you find what you really need, Angela, because I don't think I can be that person."

"No, Buck!" Tate cried as he pulled away from her and she sank to her knees as he walked into the house. Her anger mounted as hot bitter tears flowed from her eyes. Her chest heaved as she heard him speaking to Carmon and she knew her plans were falling apart and that it was time to play her trump card. Buck Wilmington would marry her tomorrow or he would never see Chris Larabee alive again. She stood and straightened her skirt and blouse before walking into the house and reaching for the bottle of brandy she kept at her desk. She poured a hefty amount into the glass and downed it as Wilmington returned from the kitchen. She stared at him, chest heaving and mouth set in a straight line.

"I'm sorry, Angela, I really am."

"No, you're not, Lover, but you will be if you walk out that fucking door!"

"What are you talking about?" Wilmington asked wary of the look of pure hatred in the woman's eyes.

"Just what I said, Buck. You walk out that door and it'll be the sorriest thing you ever did and I guarantee that he'll pay for it!"

"Who'll pay for what?" the rogue asked and somehow knew he didn't really want to hear the answer.

"Chris Larabee!" She didn't have time to continue as strong arms latched onto her shoulders and violently shook her.

"You bitch! Where is he?" His hands wrapped around her throat as anger and fear fought for supremacy.

"No!" Manual cried having heard the screaming and hurried to help his employer. He grabbed Wilmington's wrists and tried to pry them from the woman's neck as her eyes seemed to bulge. His own strength was nothing compared to the irate man who seemed set on killing Angela Tate. He reached for the half full bottle of brandy and brought it down on Buck Wilmington's head and watched as he dropped to the floor and lay still. He reached for the woman as she sagged and lifted her into his arms. Her breathing was harsh and he carried her towards her bedroom and called for Carmon as he placed her on the bed.

Angela was finally able to breath and reached to touch her throat as the dizziness left her fatigued and nauseous. Finally able to speak she looked at Manual and issued orders in a croaking rasp.

"Send someone for Rosemary Clark and have her come to me. Tell her it's important, Manual, and remember you owe me more than you can repay. If you do as I say it will wipe the slate clean and you and Carmon are free to leave and I'll add a bonus. Understood?"

"Si, I will take care of it, but what about Mr. Wilmington?"

"Bring him in here and I will take care of him until Rosemary gets here!" Tate ordered as she sat on the edge of the bed. She heard her employee dragging Wilmington into the bedroom and cursed the fates that allowed things to go so badly so fast.

"Where should I put him?"

"On the bed then get out of here and have Carmon bring me some hot water and bandages!"

"Yes, Miss Tate," the Mexican said as he helped her put the unconscious man on the bed before hurrying from the room.

"Oh, Buck, how could you do this to us?" She stated as she started removing his clothing. It took some doing, but she finally had his clothing off and quickly tore strips from the top sheet and tied his wrists and ankles to the bedposts. She knew she would not be able to keep him this way for long, but she would make sure she had a captive audience when she explained how things were going to play out. She thanked Carmon for bringing her the water and bandages and told her that she was not to be interrupted until Rosemary Clark arrived. Once the door closed, Angela removed her clothing and spooned up against the restrained man's side and placed her throbbing head on his arm and drifted towards sleep.

---

Vin Tanner reached for the beer and slugged it down before turning to face the trio standing at the bar. So far they'd been quiet and not bothering anyone, but that was changing quickly as they began harassing Inez Recillos. The woman could handle herself, but the three cattlemen were growing braver and lewder by the minute. He nodded as Ezra and JD entered the saloon and took up positions near the door as he walked towards the bar.

"Can I get another beer, Inez?"

"Si, Senor," the pretty woman said and reached for a clean glass.

"Hey, Mister, can't ya see the lady was busy serving real men? Go find yerself another whore!"

Vin's rage was evident as he struck out and sent the man flying into his two friends. The two men caught their friend and moved to take down the buckskin-clad man, but stopped when they heard two guns cocking behind them.

"I wouldn't if I were you!" Dunne said, smiling as fear replaced lust on the men's faces.

"We's jush havin' a liddle fun wish the whore," the same man slurred and found himself once more flying across the floor, landing on a table which quickly broke under his weight and he landed in a heap behind his friends.

"Ya best 'pologize to the lady or I'll show ya what it means ta be a...what's that word, Ezra?"

"What word, Mr. Tanner?"

"The one when a man ain't got no dick between his legs."

"Ah, I believe you're looking for Castration as in Eunuch," Standish smiled as he saw real fear on the two men standing near the bar.

"Yep, knew ya wouldn't let me down! Now ya got one minute ta 'pologize to the lady or I put this ta work," Tanner warned and showed the three men the blade he had tucked into a sheath at his side.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, didn't mean to offend," one man said while the other mumbled his apology as he stared at the shining knife.

"Mister, as much as I'd like to see Vin's expertise with a hunting knife I'd rather not be the one having to explain the mess to Judge Travis," Dunne said, smiling as Vin slowly advanced on the third man.

"No! Please, I's just fooling with her. I'm sorry, Ma'am, I truly am. We'll leave if'n that's all right wit ya," the third man said as he looked at the woman behind the bar.

"That was pretty good, but there's somethin' yer forgettin'," Tanner warned.

"Wh...what?" the man stammered as the blade was placed at his groin.

"Ya owe the lady for those beers and fer breakin' the table!"

"But it was your fault I broke the ta...Okay, I get it. I'll pay for the damages..."

"And the beer!" Standish ordered.

"And the beer."

"Very good, you've just saved your self a night in our jail!" Dunne said as Jackson and Sanchez joined them.

"Looks like we missed the excitement, Nathan," the ex-preacher said as he watched two men haul a third to his feet.

"Sure looks that way. What happened?"

"Those three decided they're better off leaving the vicinity of our town. For their own health I might add," Standish explained as the three men emptied their pockets and placed the money on the counter.

"Trail hands," Jackson spat as the memory of his own brush with death at the hands of angry trail hands sent a shiver down his spine.

"It's all right, Brother, they're just leaving," Sanchez said and smiled as Jackson moved to the table at the back of the room as JD began picking up the pieces of the broken table. It didn't take long for the trio to ride out of town and life return to normal for the peacekeepers.

"Are you all right, Vin?" Jackson asked as he noticed the Texan favoring his right hand.

"Yeah, just split my knuckle on his teeth."

"Come over to the clinic later and I'll clean it for you," the healer said and knew the younger man would do as he asked. As often as they protested the need for his attention, the six peacekeepers respected his abilities and more often than not did as he asked them too.

"I will," Tanner said and turned to JD. "Any word from Chris and Buck?"

"Nothing. I figured I'd send a message myself when Mrs. Potter opens up tomorrow."

"You worried, Vin?" Sanchez asked as Inez brought over five drinks and placed them on the table.

"Thank you for defending me, Senor," Recillos said before turning away and smiling at the slight blush she'd seen on the Texan's face.

"Chris said he'd wire us when they got ta Midfield. Figure we should've heard from 'em by now."

"Knowing Buck they probably went to see his friend..."

"Friend, Mr. Dunne, I would say it is more like paramour," Standish corrected.

"Whatever you say, but I'm betting he's already ensconced in her bed..."

"Jesus, Kid, stop emulatin' Ezra!" Tanner said, grinning at the look that washed over the conman's face as he used the new word he's read in one of Mary Travis' articles. He was quickly picking up new things and reading was something he enjoyed.

"I believe you are picking up some of my finer qualities, my friend...or should I say friends," he said as he looked from one man to the other.

"Better not let Chris hear you talking like Ezra. He might just decide to shoot the three of you," Sanchez explained as several towns' men entered the saloon. The Five men grew quiet as they watched the newcomers and readied themselves for another night as Four Corners' peacekeepers.

---

"Open your eyes, Chris!"

Larabee did not want to, but the voice was annoying and he wanted to tell it to shut up before his head exploded. He shifted and felt something pressed against the wound in his leg and tried to come off the bed. His eyes shot open and he shot the woman a glaring stare as he struggled to breathe.

"Sonofabitch!" the blond groaned as the burning subsided.

"Sorry about that, but I tried to warn you. I need to clean this out and I'm sure you'd rather be awake during the operation."

"O...operation?" Larabee stammered and heard the fear in his own voice.

"Oh, not that kind of operation." Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she looked at her patient. "At least not yet, but I'm afraid I need to lance this one and the wound in your side in order to get rid of the infection. I'm afraid it's the only way to make sure you don't lose your leg. Now I do have some morphine here, but I'm sure you'd rather not take any drugs."

"D...don't do me any fucking f...favors!" Larabee spat and received a slap across the face that threatened fireworks once more.

"I warned you about that mouth and I promise you there won't be another. Vulgarity is not something I enjoy listening to and I assure you it would be in your best interest to speak in a civilized manner when I'm in the room. Do I make myself clear?"

Chris groaned as she pulled the bandage from his side and felt blood flow freely from the wound as she roughly pressed her fingers into the ravaged flesh. He twisted and tried to pull away, but was held completely immobile as she worked her fingers around the wound.

"Ethan, bring me some clean water and bandages...and my scalpel. I believe it's best to leave the wounds open and let the infection drain on its own so I need to cut the stitches out."

"God...stop!" The blond groaned as she pressed deeper and deeper into the wound.

"I'm doing my best to keep you alive, Chris. You do see that don't you?"

"Not f...from where I am," Larabee said as he watched her reach into the basin of water and remove a strip of cloth. He tensed as she placed it against his side and would've cried out if his teeth hadn't been so tightly clenched.

"Hand me the scalpel!"

"No!" Larabee spat, but knew it was no good as the knife cut through the stitches and sent a shockwave of pain through his body. He stretched out on the bed and tried anything to twist away from the shooting agony that seemed to invade every pore of his body until he lost sight of the pain in the murky black fog of unconsciousness. He didn't hear Turner's mocking laughter or feel Clark clean the wound and place fresh bandages over it and was oblivious to her touch as she repeated the process with his leg.

"Ethan, make sure you give him the laudanum and herbal teas because it'll help you control him."

"He ain't so much, Ma'am. I mean there's nothing he can do while he's trussed up like that!"

"Are you so sure of that, Ethan? Larabee is far from helpless even with those bullet wounds. No, keep him semi-dazed and we'll both be able to sleep easier. Remember what I said and I'll make sure there's a bonus for you when all is said and done."

"Anything you say," Turner said and smiled as he thought of the extra money and the women at the brothel who could and would do anything for money.

"He's getting a fever and it's going to be up to you to keep it in check. That means you keep wiping him down with cool water and make sure those wounds stay clean. I may not be able to get out here as often as I want too, so I'm trusting you to keep him eating and drinking."

"Ya know ya can trust me, Miss Rosemary. I'm beholding to ya for the jobs ya send my way."

"Good, I will try to come out tomorrow, but it depends on Joseph and Angela's plans. I believe she's going to marry Wilmington as soon as possible." She turned her gaze on Larabee as he mumbled something and she leaned closer to hear him.

"No...no, Buck. Don't marry...lying bitch! She's no good...no good..."

"Ethan, hand me my bag," Clark said as anger seared through her. She took a small vial and a metal syringe and metered out a dose of the narcotic. "Hold his arm while I find a vein!"

"What is that?" Turner asked as he gripped Larabee's arm and watched the veins become more prominent.

"N...no!" the blond winced as he felt something pressed into his arm. His eyes shot open, but refused to focus as he tried to see what was being done to his arm. It didn't take long for the drug to work and he smiled in spite of the fever as it dragged him towards the edge of an awaiting abyss. He laughed as the newest torment caused his body to tremble and knew hell had finally reached out and snatched him into a dark journey of which there seemed no escape.

"He'll probably sleep for hours now, but when he wakes up you know what to do."

"Yes, Ma'am, I sure do," Turner said, enjoying the pain he'd seen this woman inflict. It showed how strong she was and he prayed he never failed to do her bidding for he suspected she would dispatch him as easily as she had the others. He walked her to the door and watched as she mounted up and rode away, feeling sorry for her husband for he was under her spell and would do anything she asked of him. Turning back he walked into the shack and towered over the captive.

Larabee seemed to be dreaming and as his head moved from side to side he mumbled unintelligibly and tiny beads of sweat formed on his brow as his fever began to rise. He reached for the basin of soiled water and hurried to throw it out the window before getting fresh water and moving to the bed. Somehow it seemed silly to bathe the ravaged body, but he would do as ordered until such time that Chris Larabee was no longer needed.

"Jesus, Larabee, you're a fucking mess!" Turner laughed and ran the cloth across the lean chest as he tried to cool the captive down.

---

Rosemary Clark watched as the rider raced towards her and waited for Manual to pull to a stop beside the front porch. She knew instinctively that something was wrong and was glad her husband was already sleeping.

"What's happened?"

"Senora Tate sent me to get you. Something has happened and she needs your help!"

"What's happened?"

"I do not know, but I found Senor Wilmington choking her and hit him with a bottle. She has him in her bed even now."

"Saddle my horse, Manual! I need to check on Joseph!"

"Si, Senora!"

Clark turned back to the house and hurried towards her husband's side. The sleeping draught she had given him with dinner would ensure that he slept through the night. She often slipped it to him when she did not want to feel his hands on her as he fumbled with making love. She quickly covered him with a blanket and hurried outside where Manual was waiting. She quickly mounted the big white mare and rode towards the Tate ranch.

---

Angela looked up as the sound of hoof beats reached her ears. She looked at the still unconscious man and was struck by the innocence she found in his relaxed state. This man was hers and she would not allow anyone to interfere in the life she was meant to have. Reaching for her robe she stood away from the bed and moved to the window. She smiled as she recognized the white horse bathed in moonlight and knew her friend had arrived. She looked at Wilmington once more and hurried out to the porch to greet her friend.

"Oh, Rosie, thank you for coming so quickly."

"You know I'll always be here, Angela. What's going on?"

"Buck came back from town and said he didn't think we should get married and I was so angry I screamed at him!"

"Why did he try to choke you?"

"I was so angry at being used by him that I threatened Larabee and he knows I know where Chris is! What am I going to do?"

"You're going to do exactly what you planned and marry Wilmington!"

"He won't marry me now!"

"Of course he will," Rosemary declared, smiling as she took her friend's arm and walked back to the bedroom. "After all you have that ace in the hole!"

"Yes, I do, don't I?" The malicious grin spread over her face as she sat on the edge of her bed and gently tapped Wilmington's cheeks. She heard a soft groan and knew he was on the verge of waking and smiled as the blue eyes finally opened.

Buck felt the touch of a soft hand on his cheek and forced heavy eyelids to open. He smiled as he looked into the familiar face, but that smile died before it completely formed and anger exploded as he tried to get free of the ropes that held him fast to the bed.

"Lie still, Buck, you're not going anywhere just yet, but if you promise to behave I just might release you, although right now you look damn sexy and helpless!"

"I'll show you who's helpless, Bitch!" Wilmington spat as he continued to struggle against the bonds.

"Buck, I am going to say this once and after that Chris..."

"Where the hell is he?"

"Temper, temper, Buck," Clark said as she sat opposite her friend.

"Get these fucking things off me!"

"Not just yet!" Tate said as she ran her fingers down his chest and stopped at his navel. "Now, I have let you get away with that vulgarity twice, but from now on any transgression on your part will result in punishment for Chris Larabee. Now I know you don't want him hurt so I'm sure you'll be willing to cooperate in my plans for our happiness."

"You see, Buck, Angela and I are a team and right now we have something that you care about. Chris Larabee is a captive audience and you are the performer who can assure his survival, but you have to put on the performance of your life tomorrow when we bring the preacher out here! You and Angela will be married and live happily ever after and at the same time your friend will be treated according to your actions. As of right now you will not use that vulgar language and you will treat Angela with the respect she deserves."

"I'll kill you both for this!"

"Now, Buck, it's time you realized who is in control and set your mind to pleasing me instead of making me angry." Angela smiled as she leaned over the helpless man and pressed her lips to his.

"Don't fuckin' touch me!"

"Rosie!" Tate said sitting up as anger dominated her face.

"Yes, Angela?"

"When you go see Chris, break his arm!"

"No!"

"Certainly..."

"God no!"

"Any preference as to which one?"

"The left I think!"

"No! Sweet Jesus, Angela, don't do this!"

"I'm sorry, Buck, but I warned you and now Chris will pay the price."

"Angela, please, I'll do anything you say."

"I hope so, Buck, because Chris's life really does depend on you. Rosie, make sure Chris knows why his arm is being broken!"

"I will!"

"God damn it! Please, Angela, I promise I'll do whatever you say, just don't do this!"

"You should have thought of that before you used those words. Now be still and listen to everything I have to say because I'm sure you don't want to make the same mistake twice. Understood?"

"Y...yeah," Wilmington stammered as he looked from one woman to the other. Their matching smiles did little to soften the horror he felt and his heart skipped a beat as he realized there was nothing he could do except cooperate for now.

"Good, because I can promise you that Chris Larabee will not like the consequences if you so much as breathe the wrong way!" Angela warned.

"Angela, let him go," Wilmington tried, but knew by the malicious gleam in her eyes that he was speaking to someone he had never really known.

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because I'm asking you to."

"Oh, Buck, I love it when you beg like that, but I'm afraid you'll have to prove how much you really love me before I give you any rewards."

Buck's stomach churned as he forced himself to remain calm in the face of the two women who seemed to hold all the cards. Taking a deep breath he felt some of the tension leave his body as he looked at the woman he had once thought he loved.

"I want to see him!"

"I don't think so!" Angela said with a grin.

"Then how do I know you're telling the truth and that Chris is even alive?"

"You take my word for it!"

"Your word does not mean much right now. I'll cooperate if and when I see that Chris is alive!"

"I could have Rosie bring you a finger..."

"No!" Wilmington shouted and fought against the tight ropes that bound him to her bed.

"Such anger, Angela, are you sure you want to take him to your bed."

"Oh my, yes, Rosie, I certainly do. Buck was always wonderful in bed and I crave the feel of his hands on my body." She touched his cheek and smiled at the look of disgust on his face.

"Angela, I'm telling you right now that I won't cooperate until I see Chris. I'll fight you every step of the way and when the preacher gets here I'll tell him and anyone who'll listen what you're doing!"

"I said no..."

"Angela, perhaps it would be best if we take him to see his friend."

"We can't let him see where we're holding him!" Tate spat.

"We won't have to. I've given you several sleeping draughts and we could give him one before we leave and another on the return journey. That way he can see that is friend is still alive, but he will not know where he is!"

"Will you take the sleeping draught, Buck?"

"Anything, Angela, but I need to talk to him."

"I don't know if he'll be up to talking," Clark said.

"What the hell does that mean?" Wilmington spat in anger.

"It seems that your friend had an argument with a bullet or two, but I assure you I've taken care of the wounds and even given him something to help with the pain, although I'm sure today will be even worse on him than the extraction of two bullets," Clark said as she turned to her friend. "It was the right arm?"

"No, the left," Angela said and watched Wilmington's face for the reaction she wanted and knew she had his undivided attention. "I will have Carmon mix the sleeping draught and tell Manual to get the buckboard ready. You rest easy, Buck, and I'll be back in a few minutes."

Wilmington watched the two women leave and tugged on the ropes, but they were too tight and he was finding it hard to concentrate. He now understood the meaning of the fine line between love and hate, and wanted to use that line to strangle Angela Tate and Rosemary Clark. Closing his eyes he thought about Chris Larabee and his own part in his long time friend's misery.

'God, Chris, I'm sorry,' he thought and waited for the two women to return.

---

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, Rosie," Angela said as they walked into the kitchen and she told Carmon what she wanted.

"You'll never keep him in line unless he sees that Chris is his own hostage to fortune, Angela. You need to make him realize that you truly do have the upper hand and that Larabee's life depends on his behavior. It will also work in your favor to have him witness the breaking of his friend's arm and I think that's what will ensure his cooperation."

"Buck does care about Chris."

"Exactly, and he'll be willing to do anything to keep us from hurting Larabee further, but we won't be able to keep this up very long."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Joseph is starting to come apart. I'm not sure how much longer I can control him."

"What will you do?"

"Get rid of him, but it will also mean I'll have to leave Midfield."

"You can't leave me!"

"I won't have a choice, and neither will you. I think it would be best if we left before Rawlings becomes suspicious."

"Damn it! How can everything have gone so wrong so fast?"

"It happens, Angela, remember St. Louis?"

"But I love him, Rosie."

"I know you, do and I wish there was some other way, but you have to face the fact that sooner or later Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington will have to die."

"When?"

"I think we'll be safe for a couple of weeks. You do have money tucked away?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good, because when we get ready to leave we'll have to move fast."

Angela knew her friend was right, but she wanted Buck Wilmington and she would have him, even if it were only for a few weeks. He would be hers to do with as she wished and Chris Larabee would be damned because he would suffer for anything that displeased her.

---

"JD, did you send that telegram?"

"Just sent it, Vin. Mrs. Potter said she'd let us know as soon as she got an answer back."

"Good. I'm gonna go check on Chris's place and maybe patrol the area, but I'll be back by nightfall. Any problems just...ah hell, Kid, ya know what ta do as well's the rest of us. I'll see ya later."

"Sure, Vin, watch your back!" Dunne warned and walked towards the livery with the soft-spoken Texan.

'That's Chris's job,' Tanner thought as he mounted Peso and headed out of town. Since Buck and Chris had ridden out of Four Corners, Vin's hackles had been on edge and right now something was eating at him. He couldn't place why he felt something was wrong, but had never been one to ignore his instincts. If there was no word from the two men when he returned he would head for Midfield at first light.

---

Chris licked at dry lips and bit back a groan as pain flared through his body. He'd heard Turner moving around in the line shack, but kept his eyes closed in an effort to keep the other man from knowing he was awake. He heard the door open and the distinct sounds of horses and opened his eyes. The shack was deserted and lit only by a small kerosene lamp that sat on the small table. He didn't have time to search further as Turner entered and walked towards him.

"Glad ta see yer awake 'cause we got company."

"Who?" The blond asked as he looked beyond the man at the trio who entered the shack. "Buck!"

"C...Chris?" Wilmington's head shot up when he heard the rasping voice and his eyes sought out the source of the sound. He tried to pull away from the two women, but his hands were tied and the manacles secured to his feet allowed for very little movement.

"Not yet, Buck, there is still the matter of his punishment," Tate said as they steered Wilmington to a chair at the table.

Chris fought against his own bonds, but succeeded only in awakening the dormant pain in his side. He heard the two women telling Turner to make sure Wilmington could not get off the chair and cursed his own weakness as the trio successfully bound the gentle rogue in place.

"Angela, for God's sake he's already hurt too much. Don't do this to him!"

"I warned you, Buck! Now he is going to take the punishment and if you keep on with this behavior he will suffer the consequences." Tate said as she cupped his chin and kissed him long and hard.

"Leave him alone, Bitch!" Larabee spat, unaware of Turner moving to the opposite side of the bed.

"Watch that mouth of yours, Chris!" Rosemary warned as she looked at the two helpless men and smiled at the power she held in her hands.

"Now, Buck, sit still and enjoy the show," Tate said and sat on the rogue's legs. She knew he was still not quite focusing as the lingering effects of the sleeping draught made him weak.

"I'm begging you, Angela! I'll do anything you say, but don't let her do this!"

"She won't," Angela said and smiled at the relief that shone on Wilmington's face. "But he will. Ethan, break his left arm!"

Chris swallowed hard as the impact of her words struck home and the length of rope around his left arm was shortened until his arm was stretched above his head. He saw Turner smiling maliciously as he lifted a rifle and held it above his arm.

"What the fuck?" He cursed as the full impact of her words shot home and the barrel of the rifle was driven into his arm near his elbow. He felt and heard the bone snap and Chris thought he heard a scream echo his own as sickening nausea raced through his stomach. He fought the restraints, which only added to the screaming agony of bone grating against bone.

"You bitch! God, Chris, I'm so sorry!"

"I will let you get away with that one, Buck, because you're distraught, but be warned that I will not tolerate that language from you. Now I am going to give you five minutes alone with your friend, but you try anything and he will pay for it. Understood."

"Yes, but his arm..."

"Rosie will see to it as soon as you're done talking. Ethan, Rosie, come with me," Tate ordered and left the two men alone.

Chris's breath came in hitching gasps as he tried to breath past the bile rising like an ocean in his throat. There was no longer any sensation of one pain as it grew to an extreme where there was no way to distinguish what hurt worse. He heard someone calling his name and tried to speak, but again the pain was too much and he turned his head as his stomach gave up its meager contents.

"Chris, Chris...look at me! God I'm sorry," Wilmington tried and was rewarded when Larabee's head turned towards him, angered by the pain that was evident on his face.

"B...Buck...why?"

"She's crazy, Chris."

"G...get away, d...don't stay h...here!" Larabee ground out between gasping breaths.

"I won't leave you!" The ladies' man vowed as he watched his friend struggle with the newest torment heaped on his shaking body.

"G...get help..."

"If I get away they'll kill you, Chris, and I won't let that happen."

"St...staying w...with her will k...kill you. G...get help! V...Vin...others...come..."

"Something tells me the boys will come anyway because I don't think she sent a message at all and Rosie runs the telegram."

"T...that's h...how she knew w...what I w...was doing. T...tried to telegram S...St. Louis...find out 'bout h...her. God, Buck!"

"Easy, Chris, just try to be still!"

"So, Buck, have we come to an understanding?"

"What do you mean, Angela?"

"Are you willing to marry me or should I just have Ethan take care of Chris now? I assure you that his death will not be an easy thing to watch!"

"No, Angela, don't let him touch Chris. You make sure he's taken care of and I'll do anything you ask of me."

"No, Buck, s...sell soul to devil first."

"Think I already have, Chris, and I wish it hadn't been at the cost of yours," Wilmington said as Rosemary held a cup of liquid to his lips. He knew what it contained and knew he would be asleep as soon as they put him in the buckboard and he let his gaze wander back to his friend. No words were spoken, but beneath the pain he read the promise of retribution and gave a simple nod that the message was received and understood. No matter what happened there would be hell to pay before all was said and done.

"Angela, I'm going to set his arm and give him a shot of morphine," Rosemary said having read the message in the men's body language.

"Don't touch me!" Larabee ground out through tightly clenched teeth.

"Do you really think you can dictate what I can or can't do, Chris?" Rosemary said with a smile as she stood staring into the pale face.

"Bitch!"

"No!" Wilmington cried out as the woman viciously slapped Larabee across the face.

"Get him to finish the drink, Angela and then get Ethan to help you out to the buckboard while I finish things with my reluctant patient!" Clark ordered and released Larabee's now useless left arm. She smiled maliciously as he yelped in surprised pain.

"Jesus, Angela, please stop this!"

"I'm afraid I can't. Besides she's doing what needs to be done if he's to have use of his arm again. Ethan find something she can use for splints while Buck finishes his 'tea'."

"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and hurried out the door.

Chris watched in horrified surprise as the woman moved his arm and tried to put the broken bone in place. He knew from experience it wasn't easy, but the woman before him seemed to take pleasure in prolonging his discomfort. He fought the waves of nausea and tried to see past her to where the ladies' man sat, but Rosemary Clark successfully blocked his view.

"Almost done, Chris, and then I'm going to have to immobilize this arm. I'll strap it to your chest. There, all done. That wasn't so bad was it?"

"B...bitch!" the blond cursed softly as he fought to breathe. He watched as she loaded a syringe and tried to move away from her, but there was no slack in the ropes and he was forced to watch as she injected the narcotic into his vein.

"That should keep you comfortable for a while." She said and took the splints from Ethan Turner. She quickly set about fixing them in place and then used other materials to strap his arm to his chest. By the time she was finished he was glassy eyed and seemed to be laughing at her. "I see you're feeling better, Chris."

"Fuck...ing Bitch!" Larabee laughed, but the strength was not there as he tried to find Wilmington once more. Their eyes met for less than a second, but the promise was there once more.

"Are you ready to go, Buck?" Tate asked.

"Please, Angela, I'll go anywhere...do anything...be anybody you want me to be if you just let him go. He can't hurt you!"

"He knows about me and Rosie, Buck, so for now he stays put and you share my bed. Come on, Lover, the night is late and I want to enjoy the fruits of my endeavors."

Buck felt himself pulled to his feet and realized he hadn't even felt the ropes removed from the chair. He turned and looked over his shoulder as the two women led him out the door. His last glimpse of Chris Larabee sent a tremor of grizzly fear through his body and he wondered if he'd ever see the man alive again.

---

It was late when Vin Tanner returned to the town he now called home, but he knew the others would still be in the saloon. Turning Peso over to Yosemite he turned and walked briskly towards the establishment. He'd done a lot of thinking while patrolling the area and his gut instincts were kicking in more than ever. Something was wrong and he knew whatever it was didn't bode well for Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington.

The tracker pushed open the batwing doors and immediately spotted the four men seated at the usual table towards the back wall. There were three others present and they seemed to be playing a hand of cards, but without much enthusiasm. Vin smiled inwardly because he knew from experience that Ezra Standish had probably already won their wages and left them with little or no means of winning it back. He hurried to join the four peacekeepers as Inez delivered a fresh drink for each of them.

"How are things out at Chris's place?" Dunne asked.

"Quiet," Tanner answered before washing down the days dust with the glass of beer.

"Always is," Jackson said.

"Any word from Chris or Buck?"

"Nothing," Standish answered simply.

"I'm ridin' fer Midfield first light," the Texan told them.

"I think we're all in agreement that something is wrong in that fair town," Standish said.

"Vin, Ezra and I will be riding with you," Sanchez explained as he looked at the others. They'd talked it through before Tanner's arrival and knew it was time to find out what was keeping Larabee and Wilmington from answering their summons.

"I'd go, but Mrs. Jenkins is due any day and well it bein' her first she's as skittish as a newborn calf," Jackson explained.

"And I got two men waiting for the marshals to pick them up," Dunne said unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"All right, I'm gonna catch a couple hours sleep. Meet ya at the livery at first light," Tanner told them as he stood up and headed for the door. As he stepped through the door he caught a glimpse of the moon and for a few seconds it seemed to be bathed in a pale red glow and Vin shuddered as he thought of the two missing men.

---

Buck opened his eyes and tried to focus on the world around him. His memories were fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate and he briefly wondered why Nathan had drugged him. A sudden scent struck him and with its onslaught came the memories that were just out of his reach moments before. The memory of a scream of pain and the glassy green eyes that promised redemption for both of them made his heart beat a little faster. He heard movement on his left and he turned to see the most beautiful she-devil he'd ever known.

"Hello, Lover, I'm so pleased you've decided to rejoin me. Last night was so good, but I know it can be even better when you're wide awake and a willing partner."

"Angela, why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you, Buck, and want us to be happy. Maybe we could have a baby and you could be a real father and love us."

"I could never love you. Not after what you've done!"

"Maybe not, but at least I'll have a satisfying partner in my bed. And if by chance you can't perform there are ways to ensure your cooperation. A few things I've been able to acquire from the little man who does the laundry at Rosie's hotel."

"You've changed," Wilmington stated as she sat down beside him. His arms were tied to the bedpost, but his legs were free and he fought the urge to kick out at her.

"No, Lover, you have. There was a time when you would have craved the excitement I offered."

"Not if it meant someone had to suffer."

"Chris doesn't have to suffer, Buck, not if you keep up your end of our bargain even if you do consider it a bargain with the devil," Angela laughed as she stroked her hand down his taut biceps.

"I won't answer that because I don't want to see Chris hurt anymore than you already have hurt him. What you did was cruel."

"No, Buck, it was justice because you wronged me." Tate warned as she struggled to control her own anger. "I do hope you won't be the reason for him being hurt anymore!"

"I won't, Angela, but be warned that someday I'll find a way to get Chris out of this and when I do I'll see you and that other she-devil hung for murder!"

"You can't prove we murdered anyone!"

"Not yet, but I'll find a way!"

"Don't be so sure. By the way Reverend Collins will be out tomorrow and you and I can exchange our vows and you can tell him how much you love me."

"It'll be a lie," Wilmington stated.

"I'm sure it will, but you'd better make him and my other guests believe you or I'll have Rosie visit Larabee again!"

"Don't!"

"That depends on you, Lover," Angela said and disrobed before sliding into the bed with her captive mate. She trembled at the touch of his body against hers and vowed she'd have him as often as she could during their time together.

---

They'd been on the trail for over ten hours and Josiah knew he had to call a halt to it before the horses collapsed and they were left to walk the trail to Midfield. He spurred his mount past Standish and reached for Peso's reins only to receive a sidelong glare from the Texan.

"Vin, we need to rest the horses."

"Still got an hour of daylight," Tanner told him.

"Yes, but we're all tired and wearing out the horses won't get us there any faster. In fact it'll probably slow us down!"

"Mr. Sanchez is correct in his appraisal of the horses. They are indeed beginning to show signs of exhaustion," Standish said as he drew up alongside his companions.

"Vin, we're all worried about Chris and Buck, but we'll be no good to them if we don't get there in time."

"All right, Josiah. There's a place 'bout a mile ahead that's got water and grass," Tanner said and rode ahead.

"Mr. Tanner's concern is showing," Standish said.

"I know, and that's not like Vin. He's usually as tight lipped as Chris," Sanchez said as they watched the Texan ride towards a cluster of boulders and sagebrush.

"Do you believe that our missing members are truly in need of our assistance?"

"I don't, but if Vin's this hell bent on getting to Midfield then I'm willing to ride along and watch his back."

"He does seem to have a certain ability to know what is happening with Mr. Larabee."

"Yes, he does. Something tells me they are kindred spirits and were meant to cross paths in Four Corners."

"Very astute of you."

"Thank you," Sanchez said and turned a toothy grin on his riding companion. "Now what do you say to catching up with Vin?"

"Certainly, Mr. Sanchez," Standish said as the two men picked up their pace.

---

Ethan Turner paced back and forth in the small confines of the shack. It had been raining most of the day and he was irritated that he couldn't get outside. His anger escalated each time he looked at the man lying on the bed. He should be on the floor, but the women had insisted that he be kept in the bed. Right now the money he was being paid did not make the situation better and he reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table. He sprawled on the chair and lifted the bottle to his mouth.

Chris watched the man as he dropped onto the chair and returned his attention to the rapidly emptying whiskey bottle. Turner looked as if he'd be a mean drunk and somehow Chris knew that meanness would soon show through. The man seemed to be on edge since the rain had started and Chris had no idea how long ago that was. Between the utter pain and the laudanum-laced drinks he had lost track of time and didn't even know what day it was. He'd thought long and hard about what Buck was being forced to do because of him and wished there was some way out of the mess they were both trapped in. His attention returned to the man at the table as he heard the bottle slammed hard on the surface. Turner was out of liquor and Chris had a feeling things were about to get a whole lot worse for him as the man picked up a knife and started twirling it between his fingers.

"I know you're awake, Larabee. Heard ya movin' around and tryin' not ta groan, but it ain't workin'.

Chris swallowed and shifted slightly in an effort to get a better view of his tormentor. The lethal looking blade sent shivers down his spine, but he was helpless to do anything about it. He watched as the man twirled it and the light reflected off the shiny steel. The light also caught the glassy, drunken eyes of the baby-faced killer seated at the table.

"Ya listenin' ta me, ya miserable sonofabitch?"

"I hear you," Larabee answered in hopes of keeping the man from doing anything more than twirling the knife.

"I should drag ya outta that bed and show ya who's really in charge!"

"You bow to those women, Turner. No way have you got the guts to free me!"

"Ain't gonna free ya! Just gonna drag ya off the bed and tie ya in a corner like the dawg ya are!"

"You don't have the guts! Scared of them two ladies!"

"Shut that fuckin' mouth or I'll shut it for ya!"

"I don't think so, Turner. From where I am you're so scared of them two you're getting a yellow streak down your back!"

"Shut up!"

"What's the matter? Truth hurts!" Larabee knew he'd gone too far as Turner stood and crossed the short distance in a two strides. The man stood over him and lashed out with the blade, slicing into the bandages that covered his side. Chris could not move as Turner placed the tip of the blade at his throat.

"Not so fuckin' cocky now are ya?"

"S...sick fuck..."

"Shut up, Larabee! God damn it ya'd best do as I say or I'll slit yer throat and let the vermin have yer body before it's even cold!" Turner spat as he watched Larabee's face convulse in pain. He removed the blade and looked at the blood seeping through the bandages and knew he'd gone too far. Rosemary Clark had warned him not to do anything to the captive, but the liquor had made him forget his place. He had to do something to stop the bleeding before Larabee died or else he'd have signed his own death warrant. He grabbed the towel draped over the chair and lifted the bandages from the injured man's side as he swiped at the sweat from his eyes.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! See whatcha made me do?"

Chris was beyond hearing the man's angry voice and the words did not make sense anymore as the burning pain in his side intensified. He felt someone pressing against the wound, but could not find the energy to open his eyes and see who it was. As darkness descended Chris Larabee gave himself over to the welcoming oblivion.

Turner worked hard to stop the bleeding and was relieved when it seemed to have slowed. He quickly reached for the basin of clean water and carbolic and bathed the reddened area in an effort to bring down the swelling and rid the area of any sign of bleeding. The cobwebs had left him shaken and angry, but he could not take his anger out on this man, not here, not now! He placed clean bandages over the wound and went for more water to wipe down the fevered body that lay quietly in the bed.

---

"Buck, I'm going to release you, but I'm warning you not to try anything or Chris will pay dearly for it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Wilmington snapped as he stared at the hated figure standing beside the bed. He knew she was expecting Reverend Collins and several other guests later in the day. She'd come to him that morning and told him of her plans and what the outcome would be if he didn't convince everyone of his undying love for her.

"Very well. Oh, I have a suit ready for you and I expect you to wear it today. I'm having several new outfits tailored to fit you as they should and they will be my wedding present to you. What are you getting for me?" Tate asked as she placed her hands on his chest and leaned down to kiss him once more.

"Ain't got nothin' to give you, Angela. You took everything I offered and twisted it into something dirty and twisted and there's nothing that can change that. Oh, I'll perform for you...just like those people who make out they're Shakespeare's characters, but you and I will both know the truth. There's no way around that!"

"That's okay, Lover, because I have enough love for both of us. Now don't you go telling Reverend Collins about our sleeping arrangements because I'll just deny it. As of now you've been sleeping in the spare room."

"I'd rather sleep there anyway...alone!"

"That's not going to happen, Lover. Once our guests have left you and I are going to celebrate our upcoming wedding."

"Sounds more like a death sentence to me," Wilmington stated flatly.

"Now, Buck, I think it's time you realized that we're going to be husband and wife and like it or not you're going to be a willing participant. After all Chris Larabee is depending on you or have you forgotten that little detail?"

"I haven't forgotten, Angela, but you mark my words and hear me real good. There will come a time when you won't be holding all the cards and when that time comes I'll make you pay for everything you and your friends have done to Chris. Understood?"

"Understood, but you'd better understand me, Buck Wilmington. You've just cost your friend the use of his leg, because those scalding comments don't sit within the boundaries of our arrangement."

"No, Angela, please..."

"You should have thought of that before, Lover. I warned you I would not appreciate any kind of threats."

"I didn't mean it," Wilmington lied as she reached over his head to untie the knots in the ropes.

"Why should I believe you, Buck?"

"Give me a chance to prove it and I promise you won't be sorry, Angela."

"You put on a good show, Lover, and maybe I'll reconsider. Rosie and Joseph will be here and she will be riding out to visit Chris. What she does when she sees him depends very much on how well you please me today."

Buck felt his arms released and tried to rub the circulation back into his hands as he stared into the glacial green eyes. His hatred grew with every breath he took, with every sensation of her body against his, and with the very scent he associated with her. Fighting back the nausea he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He'd learned at an early age that men and women could fake their bodies' reactions and he forced himself to concentrate on the feelings he once had for this woman. He heard her soft moans of pleasure and knew he was giving her what she craved. Forcing down the bitter bile that rose in his throat, Buck Wilmington knew he had indeed sold his soul to the she-devil in his arms.

---

Evan Rawlings smiled at Reverend Collins and his sister Martha as they arrived at the front gate of the Tate ranch. Martha wasn't a particularly beautiful woman, but to Rawlings there was a hidden beauty seldom seen and he'd been seriously considering asking the woman to several barn dances in the area. His thoughts returned to the reason for his presence at the Tate ranch as they rode closer to the house. He'd been surprised to hear that Buck Wilmington was going ahead with his marriage to Angela Tate. Even more surprising was the invitation he received to attend the dinner the woman was holding in honor of the upcoming wedding. Rosemary Clark had come to the jail early in the afternoon and handed him a formal invitation and one he was intrigued by to say the least. He'd searched through his clothing to find something halfway suitable for the dinner and was pleased with his appearance. He tipped his hat as he came abreast of the buggy driven by Reverend Phillip Collins.

"Evenin' Reverend, Miss Collins."

"Good evening, Sheriff, I must say it is wonderful to see you dressed in such finery," Miss Collins said with a smile. It was rare to see Rawlings without his customary white shirt and black vest, and she knew there would be several ladies who would do anything to spend the evening in his company, but tonight she would see if there was anything between them besides the flirting.

"Thank you, Ma'am, you look lovely tonight."

Phillip Collins smiled as he helped his sister down from the buggy. He knew she had feelings for the sheriff and hoped the two would stop the mating dance and tell each other how they felt. He deposited his sister on the ground and reached for her parasol and handed it to her.

"Thank you, Phillip. Shall we?"

"Of course," Rawlings said as he linked arms with the pretty woman and walked toward the front door and knocked. He smiled as the door was opened by Angela Tate's housemaid, Carmon. She motioned them into the house and closed the door before leading them to the main parlor. Without a word of explanation she left the trio alone and closed the door behind her.

"Miss Tate certainly has a beautiful home," Martha Collins said as she explored the room. A large bookcase took up most of one wall and a small settee and matching armchair took up the other. A large window in the wall opposite the door allowed sunlight to brighten the floral paper that covered the walls.

"Never seen so many flowers in one place before," Rawlings commented as the sweet scent of roses and honeysuckle threatened to take his breath away and he sneezed. "Excuse me. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, Sheriff."

"Please call me Evan, Ma'am."

"Only if you call me Martha," the woman said sweetly.

"Done, Martha."

"It's about time you two quit dancing around and settled on a first name basis," Phillip said as he sat in the armchair leaving the two younger people no choice, but to sit on the small settee.

"Phillip, never berate a man for being a gentleman," Martha scolded.

"I wasn't berating him, I was applauding him," the reverend said with a smile.

"Oh," she said and ducked her head slightly before looking around the room once more. "I wonder where Mr. And Mrs. Clark are?"

"They may be a little late. Joseph was still working when I left town," Rawlings explained as Carmon returned with a tray that contained a pitcher of lemonade and glasses and placed them on the table. She left hurriedly and once more closed the door.

"I wonder if we're going to see our host and hostess after all," Martha said.

"Now, My Dear, don't talk like that it doesn't become you," Phillip said.

"Well, it is bad form to leave the guests wondering," the woman said as she accepted a glass of lemonade and waited for the others to make an appearance.

---

"Buck, our guests have arrived," Angela said as she entered the room to find Wilmington standing at the window dressed in the clothing she'd set out for him.

The rogue didn't acknowledge her presence right away. He'd been staring out the window, wondering where they were holding Chris Larabee and how the hell he was supposed to search for him when Angela seemed dead set on spending every minute with him and when she was unavailable, one of her men would be there to make sure he didn't ride off on his own.

"Did you hear me, Buck?"

"Yeah, I heard you," Wilmington answered, sighing in disgust as he turned towards the object of his hatred. They'd made love before she left to make sure things were ready and he'd felt dirty at the thought of what he'd done, yet what choice did he have.

"I must say that suit does fit you perfectly. Women will be very envious of me when they see us together," Tate said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a lustful kiss. She deepened it and smiled as he tried to draw away, but seemed to remember their arrangement and the kiss deepened for several drawn out seconds. She pulled away, breathing heavily as she straightened her floor length green dress and fanned herself. "My, my, but it's warm in here. I wish we could stay and continue this, but it would not do to keep Reverend Collins waiting. After all we have much to discuss before tomorrows celebrations."

Buck felt her arm link through his and walked out the door with her and along the hallway towards the parlor. He knew he had to make things look good and forced a smile to his face as he opened the door and held it for her. They entered the parlor and Wilmington was surprised to see Evan Rawlings sitting beside a woman around his own age.

"Hello, Miss Tate, Buck?"

"Evan," Wilmington greeted, smiling slightly as he shook the other man's hand.

"Hello, Reverend, Miss Collins, I'm so glad you could come out here tonight," Tate said with a smile as she reached for the other woman's hand. "I do love your dress."

"Thank you, Miss Tate," Martha said, as the three men seemed to leave them alone. "You look beautiful and please call me Martha."

"Martha, and you must call me Angela. Miss Tate is so formal."

"Angela, you have such a lovely home."

"Thank you, but I can't take the credit for it all. Rosemary is wonderful with making sure everything has a place," Tate explained as the door opened once more and the Clarks were issued inside.

"Good evening everyone," Rosemary greeted as she moved to her friend and hugged her close. "You look lovely, Angela. How are things?"

"Perfect so far. See the smile on Buck's face?" She asked as they released each other and moved to speak with the others.

"Rosie, Joseph, I believe you know everyone here."

"Yes we do," Rosemary said as Wilmington moved to serve drinks.

"Would anyone like something stronger than Lemonade?" Buck asked.

"Lemonade is strong enough for me," Martha answered.

"I'd like a brandy," Rosemary said and nodded in pleasure at the handsome rogue. So far he was being the perfect host and she wondered if he'd be able to keep it up.

"Angela?"

"Brandy would be wonderful, Buck," Tate said and walked over to join the two women at the settee.

"Joseph, would you like a drink?" Wilmington asked.

"Whiskey," the older man answered and joined the three men near the window.

"Reverend?"

"Lemonade will suffice," Collins answered.

"How about you, Evan?"

"Whiskey," the sheriff answered, studying his friend's face and noting the forced smile. He'd been a lawman and studied enough faces to know when things were not as they seemed and right now he was reading Wilmington's face like an open book. He wouldn't say anything until he was sure they were alone, but something about his friend's demeanor did not set right with him.

Buck sensed the sheriff watching him and didn't meet his eyes as he poured the brandy into the glasses and served it to Tate and Clark. He then served the whiskey and took a deep breath before reaching for Angela and pulling her close.

"Oh, Buck, we have company," the woman said coyly.

"Yes, but I am a man in love and when you're close I can think of nothing else, but holding you in my arms."

"Easy, Darling, we still have to wait until it's official. It's only one more day!"

"Too long when all I want..."

"Ahem," Collins cut in.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot myself. Angela and I have agreed to wait until we're married and I've been trying to grant that wish. She is a woman of true virtue," the rogue easily lied.

"One of us has to be," Tate said with a laugh as she pulled away from her intended. She returned her attention to the two women and began talking about what they'd be wearing to the small gathering.

"So, Buck, you're really gonna marry Angela," Rawlings stated.

"Yeah, she's everything I ever wanted in life. I've always known we were meant to be together and I can't tell you how glad I was when I got the message from her."

"Sounds like love to me. One of God's greatest gifts is the love between a man and a woman and the family they raise together," Phillips said.

"Now, Reverend, they haven't even said I do and you have them starting a family," Rawlings said with a laugh.

"Yes, well the Lord works in mysterious ways and I believe this union is one he blessed long ago. Angela told me she's known you for a long time," Collins said.

"We go back a few years," Wilmington answered.

"That they do. I knew Buck, Chris, and Angela..."

"Chris?" the reverend asked curiously.

"Chris Larabee. He rode into town with Buck, but I haven't seen him around since he sent a telegram a few days ago."

"That's because he went home, Evan. I told you in the saloon that Chris left a message for me saying he had to go back to Four Corners," Wilmington explained as Angela joined them.

"Is everything okay, Buck?" Tate asked.

"Everything's fine, Darlin'. Evan just forgot about me tellin' him about Chris's message." Wilmington explained as the other women joined them. He looked at Rawlings and shook his head imperceptibly and hoped the man got the message. Rawlings knew of his true feelings about Angela Tate and of his determination not to rush into marriage, yet here he was acting like a love struck kid on his wedding night, yet what he felt was disgust whenever she was near him.

"I'm so glad you're not worried about Chris anymore, Buck. You seemed as if you were tied up in knots about his whereabouts." Angela said and saw a spark of anger in his eyes. "I believe Carmon has dinner ready and she does make the most delicious roast beef and gravy and I do believe today's events have left me rather famished."

Rosemary Clark found herself lagging behind as she fought the urge to laugh at her friend's comment. She felt her husband's hand on her arm and followed him out of the room as he bent low to speak in her ear.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Rosemary."

"You know I love dangerous games, Joseph," she whispered as the others entered the dining room.

"Yes, but this is one game that could have deadly consequences and I don't like it."

"I promised I would not kill Chris Larabee, Joseph, and I will keep my word no matter what happens. Now let's go in to dinner before we're missed."

---

The stars created a blanket of light in the dark sky over their heads, but only one man actually saw them. Vin Tanner sat on a fallen log near the edge of the ring of light cast by the flickering fire. He'd taken first watch and would probably let Ezra sleep a little longer before waking him. There was no pressing need for a sentry, but there was always the possibility that someone was on their trail. His thoughts turned once more to the missing men and he wondered why they hadn't contacted Four Corners.

Since Chris Larabee's disappearance in Jericho nearly six months ago, they'd come up with the plan that while away from home they would contact their fellow peacekeepers at first opportunity. Chris and Buck should have contacted them nearly a week ago, but there'd been nothing and his instincts were telling him they needed to get to Midfield before it was too late. His eyelids were growing heavy and he knew he had to get some sleep or tomorrow would find a riled bear in buckskin riding Peso and the others didn't deserve his anger and impatience.

Vin walked over to the sleeping men and gently nudged the gambler who grumbled about having a dead man's hand before startled green eyes opened and looked around.

"Easy, Ez, it's just me."

"Mr. Tanner, you are extremely lucky I have the instincts needed not to pull the trigger," Standish told him.

"Always knew you had gentle hands, Ez."

"I would not consider them gentle, just very sure," Standish said as he threw back his blanket and stood up.

"Guess ya slept well."

"Very well, just not as lengthy as I normally require. Sleep well, Mr. Tanner, for dawn seems ready to spread her blanket."

"Jesus, Ezra, thought Vin was the poet."

"He is, Mr. Sanchez, I am but a student of his expertise," Standish said with a flourishing bow. "Good night, gentlemen."

"Night, Ez," Tanner said, grabbing his saddle and lying down. He reached for the blanket Standish had used and covered himself with it. "Night, Josiah."

"Night, Vin," Sanchez said and closed his eyes once more.

---

Chris woke to the loud sound of snoring next to his left ear and quickly opened his eyes. Dazed and confused he shifted away from the sour smell of whiskey and tobacco and groaned as pain slammed through his body and mind. He trembled as he tried to put some order to the twisted memories that flowed through his mind. He looked at the dirty head that seemed to be resting near him and his memory quickly cleared as the man's name slipped past dry lips.

"Tu...Turner!" The man mumbled something about being stupid and Chris waited to see if the bastard would go back to sleep. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Turner's twisted attention and tried to remain still as he waited for the pain to subside. His feet were numb and he wondered about the circulation as he tried to lift his head, but there was just no strength left. The stench coming from the man snoring next to him was overpowering and he wished the man would wake up and get away from him. He was tempted to try waking him, but decided against calling attention to himself and finally turned his head and let his eyes slide closed.

Chris knew his own position was dangerous, but was more worried about Buck Wilmington and what he was being forced to do. Being forced into a loveless marriage was one thing, but being forced into a marriage with a woman you'd grown to despise was even worse. Buck was a man who loved women and had never done anything to harm one, although there were a few exceptions. Chris knew that Buck could easily kill Ella Gaines on sight for what she'd done to Sarah and Adam. Now there were at least two other names that could be added to that short list. Angela Tate and Rosemary Clark had made a bitter enemy out of the ladies' man and someday he knew they would both regret the day they'd crossed him. Chris just hoped that he lived to see that day, but as he shifted and cried out, he wondered if he would even live past their wedding day.

Chris felt Turner move beside him and the dirty head lifted and looked around before settling once more on the bed. Too tired to do anything about the disgust he felt, Chris closed his eyes and prayed he would be alive to see the next day.

---

It was very late when the last of their guests left and Buck stood next to Angela as she said goodbye to Joseph and Rosemary Clark. He'd seen her talking to the woman earlier in the evening and needed to know what had been said. The smile on their faces was enough to let him know they were talking about Chris Larabee and he needed to know what they'd decided about his performance. As far as he could tell no one had noticed anything amiss.

"Angela, what did you tell Rosemary?" Wilmington asked as the woman turned to face him.

"Whatever do you mean, Lover?" Tate asked and pulled him into a kiss. "I've been waiting to do that all night."

"What did you tell her, Angela?" the rogue asked again as he gripped her wrists.

"I told her that you redeemed yourself for now and that she's to take special care of Chris when she visits him tomorrow. You'll be able to ask her how he's doing when her and Joseph come over before our wedding."

Buck wasn't sure if the woman realized she'd just disclosed that Chris had to be close by if Clark would be able to visit him, and still be at the house before three o'clock, which was the time of the ceremony that would bind him to the she-devil before him.

"Buck! Did you hear me?" Tate asked, angered by his seeming lack of interest.

"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere."

"Well, Lover, it's not your mind I need right now, but I'm warning you that the reprieve you won for your friend is in serious danger if you don't perform tonight." She ran her fingers along the firm jaw line and once more pressed her lips to his. This time she got the reaction she was looking for and she deepened the kiss until she stood breathless before him once more. "Carry me to our room, Buck."

With little choice in the matter, Buck picked her up and easily carried her to the bedroom they'd been sharing. He placed her on the bed and sat on the edge as she reached for him.

"Love me, Buck."

"I'll never love you, Angela, not like I once did."

"Careful, Lover," her eyes were glacial in the light cast by the lamp. "You're dangerously close to crossing that line again."

Buck swallowed the bitter bile that threatened to choke him as he turned to face her and watched as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. The beauty he'd seen there before had been replaced by an ugliness that went beyond the surface and shone like the coldest depths of hell. Angela Tate was a woman without a soul and she was eating away at his.

"Shall we start again? Love me, Buck."

Without a word Buck began removing his clothing and knew there was no choice. Not here, not now, maybe not ever, but he hoped and prayed that Evan Rawlings was as good at reading people signs as Vin Tanner was at reading signs no one else seemed able to recognize. He closed his eyes and lay down with the woman he'd come to despise and began worshipping her body.

---

Evan Rawlings nodded to Reverend Collins and his sister as he escorted them to their house at the edge of town. It was nearing midnight, but the night sky had been covered with brightly twinkling stars surrounding a full-bodied moon. The trail was well lit, but Rawlings knew it by heart and could find his way home during a fierce storm. He waited until the duo were inside and then rode his horse towards the livery. It was quiet and he knew most of the town had been in bed for hours, giving him plenty of time to think. His mind quickly wandered back over the evening's events and he kept seeing Wilmington with his arm around Angela Tate and the small motion the man made with his head. That alone had caused him to pause and take notice, but coupled with the fact that Wilmington had told him he wasn't going to rush into a marriage with the woman, Rawlings knew something more was going on than met the eye.

"What the hell is going on, Buck, and where is Chris?" He whispered as he dismounted in front of the livery. Jacobs would already have gone to bed and he knew he would have to take care of his horse on his own. He knew there was nothing he could do about it tonight, but tomorrow he would go see Joseph Clark and make sure a message was sent to Four Corners requiring an answer as quickly as possible. Buck Wilmington was to be married in less than twenty-four hours, and somehow he thought instead of it being the happiest day of a man's life it was more of a death sentence. He had to help his long time friend, he owed him that much.

---

Rosemary Clark arose with the first light of dawn and stretched her arm high over her body as she looked at the man who shared her bed. She'd drugged him the night before in an effort to keep from feeling his hands fumbling with her body and knew that he would remember nothing after they returned home the night before.

She eased out of the bed and reached for her robe before heading towards the kitchen and the promise of fresh coffee. The young woman she'd hired over a year ago was deaf and mute, but she could easily get her to understand what was expected of her. Maria was also very afraid of retaliation if she did not please her employer. She smiled as shaking hands passed her a white china cup filled to the brim with the aromatic brew she was used to.

Rosemary shook her head when Maria motioned to the plate of biscuits and bacon she'd placed at the center of the hard wood table. She was not hungry; in fact her stomach was doing flip-flops as if she was the one getting married today. She turned away from the young woman and headed back to her bedroom to change into her riding clothes. She looked at her husband in distaste as she pulled on her clothes and left the house. She hurried to the stable and told Matthew Jennings to get her horse ready and make sure her saddlebags were also added to the animal's saddle. By the time she mounted up, the sun was just beginning her daily ritual and the promise of a bright day for the wedding that would take place later in the day.

---

Ethan Turner was worried and it showed in the way he paced in front of the line shack. Since waking up he'd been trying to get the blond's fever down, but no amount of wiping him down was helping. Chris Larabee was in the throes of fever-induced nightmares that had him screaming, crying, and thrashing about on the bed.

"What the hell am I supposed ta do now?" He shouted as the cries seemed to weaken and the body dropped back on the bed where soft keening moans escaped the parched throat. He turned back towards the clean basin of water he'd just fetched from the deep well and picked it up before entering through the open door.

"God damn it!" he cursed his own inadequacies as he wondered how he was going to explain Larabee's condition. He took the cloth and soaked it in the water and again washed down the fevered man.

"B...Buck, t...that you? Hot, Buck...too hot! W...where's Sarah? Sarah!"

"Look I don't know who the fuck Sarah is, but your friend is fine, okay! Now I ain't one ta give a damn what happens ta ya, but right now I gotta keep ya alive or she'll rip the skin off my back..."

"You're damn right she will! What did you do?" Clark asked as she rushed forward and replaced Turner in the chair.

"Ain't done nothin'! I've been doin' everything ya told me too and this mornin' I woke up ta him screamin' for someone named Sarah!"

"Sarah?"

"Yeah, think maybe she's dead 'cause he's wailin' like a banshee and tellin' Wilmington not ta stop him from savin' her!"

"Chris, I need you to listen to me. I'm going to help you!"

Larabee heard a voice calling him and the promise of relief from the pain and heat that scorched his body and mind. He tried to speak, but his mouth and throat were drier than the desert he'd ridden through with Buck on the way to Mexico. He forced his tongue past cracked lips and looked up into the face that seemed to be bathed in a bright light. He sighed contentedly as he tried to reach for the woman, but frowned as his arms refused to move.

"S...Sarah?"

"I'm right here, Chris. I'm going to make you feel better and then I want you to eat and get some sleep," Clark spoke in soft soothing tones as she placed her hands on both his cheeks.

Chris frowned as a scent suddenly overpowered everything else and he knew beyond a doubt that whoever this woman was she was not his beloved wife. He forced the words through his ravaged throat and inwardly winced at the weakness behind them.

"N...no Sarah...Buck!" he cried and sought out the motive blue eyes he'd trusted for so long. The familiar voice did not answer and Chris caught sight of the man standing just to the right of the woman. Memories returned, but Chris had no strength with which to fight anymore as he remembered the woman's name.

"Ethan, we need to get his fever under control! There are several packets of powder and herbs in my saddlebags. Put half of each packet in a cup and mix it with hot water. Then we're going to get some water into him and clean him up. I'll need the strips of bandages I brought with me too!"

"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and hurried out of the shack to retrieve the items from her horse.

"I know you can hear me, Chris, and I need you to listen to me. I really am here to help you today. Your friend Buck is putting on a marvelous performance and you are not to be harmed today, but that can easily change. So right now it is in your best interest to take advantage of my training and let me help. Do you understand me?"

"B...bitch," Larabee rasped.

"Oh, you'll pay for that I promise, but I have plans this afternoon so I will mark that one down as one against you," Clark said as she eased the bandages off the wound in his side. She frowned as she looked at the wound and pressed on the area surrounding it. "Ethan?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Turner answered.

"What did I tell you when I was here last?"

"Told me to take care of him!"

"I also warned you not to do anything unless I told you to. Do you remember that?"

"Y...yes, M...Ma'am."

"Then explain to me where this new wound came from and do not attempt to lie to me!"

"I...he...I mean..."

"Stop stumbling over your words and answer my question!"

"He made me angry and I had my knife in my hand and I couldn't stop myself! It ain't that bad!"

"It's bad enough, you fool! I'm trying to keep this sonofabitch alive long enough to satisfy Wilmington and you fuck up like this. That knife was probably full of dirt and now it's caused an infection in that wound and I have to clean it! You damn well better make sure you do everything I say from now on! Do I make myself clear?"

"Ye...yes, Ma'am!"

"Good, now get that tea ready and get me some more water! Where's the whiskey I left here?"

"I...I used it to clean his wounds," Turner lied smoothly.

"I don't believe you! You drank it didn't you?" Clark said, standing and advancing on the baby faced man. She slapped him resoundingly and forced herself to be calm before walking back to the bed.

Chris watched the woman as she advanced on Turner and saw fear in the man's face as she delivered an open handed slap to his right cheek. He breathed past the pain and nausea and looked into the deadly eyes staring down at him. He'd never seen such cold hatred and knew it was directed at him.

"Bring me the carbolic and my scalpel!"

Chris's insides twisted with fear, but he refused to show this woman any sign of weakness. Instead he stared at the woman even as she sat down and turned her attention to his wounds once more. He felt her pressing roughly against the tender flesh around the open wound. The woman was relentless as she opened the wound and drained the bloodied pus from within. He twisted away from the torment, but was unable to move very far and could not hold back the cry of pain as she used a cloth laced with carbolic and water to clean the wound. By the time a new bandage was in place, he was breathing rapidly and his heart was beating a staccato rhythm in his chest.

"Just need to check your leg and then I'll be on my way, but first you need to drink this!"

"F...Fuck you!"

"That's two, Chris, and I'm afraid you won't enjoy the punishment when the time comes. Ethan, bring me the tube you'll find in with the bandages!"

"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and quickly returned with the length of tubing.

"Now, Chris, last chance. Are you going to drink this or do I put this down your throat and pour everything I can find into it?"

Chris's anger grew, but there was no chance of winning this particular fight. He opened his mouth as she pressed the cup against his mouth and drank the bitter tasting liquid. Time after time he swallowed until the cup was empty and he lay back against the pillows gasping for air.

"Chris, if I come out here and Ethan tells me you aren't drinking the way you should be then I will put it down your throat and leave it there. It will become your only source of fluid. Understood?"

"Yeah," Larabee answered and watched as she readied an injection. He knew it was morphine and right now his mind and body craved the release it represented. He felt her clasp his arm and press the needle into the vein before delivering the narcotic once more.

"Ethan, so help me if I come out here and he's worse I'll put a bullet in each leg and make sure you're awake when I remove the damn things. Now do what you're being paid to do!"

"Yes, ma'am," Turner said and walked her to the door, relieved when she mounted up and rode away from the line shack. Turning back towards the inside of the one room dwelling he noted that Larabee seemed to be sleeping and ran his fingers through his grimy hair. No matter what happened, this would be his last job for Rosemary Clark. The woman was getting worse and he was beginning to fear for his own life.

---

Buck sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the string tie around his neck. The white shirt was buttoned to the top and it felt as if he was being choked as he moved his head from side to side. It was nearing two o'clock and most of the guests had arrived. Angela Tate had been greeting her guests and making sure things were perfect for the ceremony. A variety of wildflowers were spread throughout the house, the rugs had been cleaned and the curtains washed and hung once more over the windows that were opened to allow the soft breeze to tease the curtains and keep the house from being too stuffy.

Buck had no interest in the goings on, but he forced a smile to his face each time someone new showed up. More than twenty guests had already arrived, mostly people who knew Angela and wanted to see the man she'd chosen to marry. Buck felt as if he was on display at times and had retired to the bedroom to wait for Rosemary Clark's arrival. His mind wandered back to the last time he'd seen Chris Larabee and the sheer pain that was evident on his washed out face. He stood up and made his way to the window as the sound of a buggy reached his ears. He watched as Angela walked out and greeted the Clark's and knew she would be bringing Rosemary to him. He turned and watched the door until it opened and the woman stepped inside.

"I must say you do look rather handsome this afternoon, Buck."

"You'll forgive me if I don't say the same about you," Wilmington said and winced at the high-pitched laugh from the woman.

"Doesn't matter. Angela told me you've been worried about your friend and I told her I'd come talk with you."

"How's Chris doing?"

"Right now he's fighting a raging fever, but Ethan will keep feeding him the tea and bathing him. I'll go out there after the ceremony and dancing and make sure he's doing what I've told him."

"Chris needs a doctor."

"He has me!"

"If that was meant to ease my mind you're crazy!"

"No, not to ease your mind, just to let you know that Chris is still breathing and I'll make damn sure he stays that way as long as you behave yourself."

"You make it sound like you're scolding a school boy, Rosemary, but I'll tell you the same as I told Angela. There'll come a time when you won't be holding all the cards and when that time comes you'd best watch your back!"

"Is that a threat?"

"No, no it's not a threat! It's a promise and my friends know I always keep my promises! Make no mistake about that!"

"I'll try to remember that, Buck, but tonight while you're enjoying yourself with Angela, I'll be visiting your friend and let's just say things could get even more uncomfortable for Chris."

Wilmington reached out and grabbed her by the wrists and stared into her eyes as he spoke. "You hurt him and all bets are off! I'll tell everyone what you're doing and I'll make damn sure Evan contacts St. Louis and finds out the truth about you and Angela. You keep that in mind when you go out there tonight because I may be down, but I'm far from out!"

"You're hurting me!"

"Damn right I am! Now get out of here and go tell your partner in this shit that I want this over and done and then I want to see Chris!"

"Oh I'll go see Angela, Buck, and I'll show her just what you've done to me. Perhaps she'll allow another visit in order to drive home the fact that we do hold all the cards...especially the Aces!" She turned and stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

"Not for long, Rosemary, not if I can get a message to Evan," he vowed and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror over the small dresser. He looked as bad as he felt; yet his friend was the one who was paying for his actions. Somehow he would get Larabee out of this and make damn sure Angela Tate, and Rosemary Clark paid dearly for what they'd done.

---

Angela spotted her friend as she swept down the hallway and excused herself from the two women she'd been talking with. She hurried towards the room her friend entered and walked inside to find a livid Rosemary Clark standing at the window.

"Rosie, what's wrong?"

"That sonofabitch thinks he can dictate terms to me!"

"What did he say?"

"He told me you and I would pay for what we've done!"

"Oh, Rosie, that's just because he's angry right now and knows you and I have control over Chris and whether he lives or dies!"

"I know that, Angela, but I'm not so sure we do have control. Buck Wilmington is like a keg of dynamite and right now his fuse is getting shorter and when he blows he's going to take us down hard!"

"You can't be serious?"

"I'm deadly serious, Angela. This man is not like the others and I think we may be underestimating him!"

"I can handle, Buck."

"Can you? It seems to me you said the same thing about Robert and Brian, but they very nearly were our downfall! We need to finish this and get the hell away from here!"

"All right, Rosie, but let me have at least a week of happiness with Buck before we get rid of them."

"A week may be too long, but you know I'll stay with you no matter what you decide."

"I know, and I would do the same for you," Angela vowed and the two women hugged.

"I think we'd better get this done before the groom decides he's gonna hightail it for the hills!"

"Not while we have Chris, Rosie. That's something you can be sure of," Tate said and smiled as she stood and the two walked out to greet their friends and neighbors.

"Angela, Phillip says he's ready whenever you are," Martha Collins said as the two entered the parlor. The furnishings had been moved back and chairs were lined up for the guests.

"Thank you, Martha," Tate said and turned towards her friend. "Could you let Buck know we're ready to begin?"

"Certainly," Rosemary said and walked towards the closed door. She pushed it open and spotted the handsome groom standing at the window once more. "It's time, Buck."

"I'll be right out!"

"No, you need to come now!"

Wilmington took a deep breath and strode purposefully towards the door. There was no way around it, today he was marrying a woman he'd once loved and adored, but now was disgusted to be in the same room with her. He walked past the woman and hurried towards the parlor and was surprised to see every seat was taken. Angela stood at the front of the room where Reverend Collins and Evan Rawlings stood. He'd asked Rawlings to be his best man and suddenly realized how very wrong this was. Chris Larabee should have been standing there and he should have been celebrating the happiest day of his life, but it was not.

Collins signaled for him to come and stand with his bride while Rosemary Clark stood next to Angela. Buck took a deep breath and took his place beside his bride. He heard Collins speaking, felt his stomach churn, and forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing. When it came time for the exchange of vows he spoke quickly and sharply before placing the ring on her finger. Everything moved as if in slow motion until the preacher looked at him and motioned to Angela Tate. He had no idea what the man wanted and frowned as he tried to figure out what was expected of him.

"You may kiss the bride!" Collins repeated and smiled as the groom finally reacted.

Rawlings had watched the proceedings and there was no longer any doubt in his mind that Buck Wilmington was being forced into something he didn't want. The question now was why he could be so easily coerced into this marriage. It didn't take long to figure out that it had something to do with Chris Larabee's disappearance. The telegraph office had remained closed through the day and he'd been unable to send a message to Four Corners, but he would do so first thing in the morning when Joseph Clark opened the doors.

"Congratulations, Angela, I hope you and Buck are as happy as Joseph and I have been."

"Thank you, Rosie," the bride said as she kept her arms around her husband's waist.

"Buck, think it's time I kissed your bride," Rawlings said and forced a smile to his face. "Congratulations, Mrs. Wilmington."

"Why thank you, Evan," Angela said, glowing with happiness at the musical sound of her name.

"Buck, wish you all the best."

"Thanks, Evan," the ladies' man said as people clapped him on the back and proceeded to kiss the new bride. He found a glass pressed into his hand as Joseph Clark raised his glass into the air and shouted above the crowd.

"To Buck and Angela Wilmington. May your life together be happy and long and that you're blessed with children."

"Thank you, Joseph," Wilmington said forcing a smile to his face as he kissed his new wife once more. He continued to put on a show, giving everyone the idea that the marriage was indeed something he'd wanted, and hating every minute he was forced to be at her side. He lost track of how many drinks were forced on him, but he drank them as if he was a man dying of thirst and the glasses held the elixir of life.

---

Buck lay awake long after his wife had succumbed to sleep. Her fiery red hair spread across his chest and tickled his chin and neck, but he didn't move to push it away. They'd made love, although there was no love in it for him, until she'd finally placed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes with a softly sated moan.

Wilmington turned to look out the window and heard the far off cry of a coyote. It brought home how alone he was and he trembled inwardly as he returned his gaze to the woman lying on his arm. Never before had he held a woman like this and been loathed to take her and love her the way a man loved a woman. The very thought of touching her in any way sent waves of nausea rolling through his stomach and rising on a tide in his throat. It was something he had to do, and he would do it until he found a way to free Chris from the chains that bound him. He felt her moving and closed his eyes quickly before she realized he was awake. He heard her speaking softly and calling his name, but did nothing to make her believe he'd heard her.

"Are you awake, Lover?" Angela asked as she lifted her head and looked into the handsome face of her husband. She rubbed her hand across his chest and winced at the whiskey-drenched breath that reached her nostrils. "Damn it! Why did you drink so much?"

Buck felt her settle back down on his arm and fought the urge to laugh at her comment. Whiskey had nothing to do with why he didn't want to make love to her. He kept his eyes closed and finally drifted towards sleep with thoughts of murder running rampant through his mind.

---

Rosemary Clark rose before her husband and hurried towards the barn. She waited impatiently for her horse to be saddled and mounted up as her employee placed the saddlebags in her hands.

"Tell Joseph I'll see him in town!"

"Yes, Ma'am," the man said as he rubbed his heavily stubbled chin. He found his employer's wife strange, but had never said anything about it because the job paid well and included a roof over his head. He'd seen some strange things between her and the Tate woman, but had never spoken of it. He wondered where she rode so early in the morning and why she always seemed to be in a hurry, but again he didn't question her even when her husband inquired as to her whereabouts. He watched her ride out of sight and returned to the job of repairing the ladder leading up to the loft.

---

Ethan Turner watched the woman riding towards him and reached for the reins as she dismounted. He looped them over the hitching post and grabbed the saddlebags before following her into the shack.

"How is he?"

"Still got that fever, but he seems ta be sleepin' easier."

"Have you been able to get him to drink anything since I left yesterday?"

"Yeah, all I gotta do is show him that tube and he drinks just fine," Turner said with a grin.

"Good, make sure you keep at him. Bring me some clean hot water and cloths. I've brought bandages and more herbs and I want you to mix one now."

"Yes, ma'am," Turner said and watched the woman for several seconds as she tried to wake the fevered man.

"Chris, I need you to look at me! Open your eyes."

"T...tired...hurts!"

"I know, but I'm going to help you feel better. I've brought some herbs to make a drink for you and I'm going to clean your wounds."

"N...no. W...wait f...for," Larabee said weakly.

"Wait for what, Chris?" Clark asked knowing the man wasn't really with her.

"N...Nathan...he, he'll know what to d...do," the blond mumbled, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Nathan told me what to do to help you, Chris. Do you trust him?"

"T...trust Nathan w...with my l...life," Larabee said as he tried to make sense of the pain knifing through his body.

"That's good, because Nathan trusts me, Chris."

"Trusts y...you?"

"That's right. He couldn't be here and asked me to take care of you. I'm going to do that now and make you a little more comfortable."

"T...too hot!"

"I'm sure it is, Chris, and I promise we'll do something about that too, but right now I need you to drink something for me," she explained as Turner handed her the cup of herbal tea. She held it to his mouth and spoke in soothing tones as she tried to get him to drink the offering. She knew she had to keep him in a semi-dazed condition if she was going to get him to cooperate and so far things were going better than she expected.

"T...tastes b...bad," Larabee mumbled and licked his lips before closing his eyes.

"I know and when you're done I'll give you some water," Clark said.

"O...okay," Larabee muttered and frowned as an image flashed before his eyes. Someone was calling his name, but he couldn't quite see who it was. A familiar face swam before his eyes and he tried to make sense of the anger on Buck Wilmington's face. For several long moments he thought it was directed at him, but his vision suddenly cleared and he gasped as the cold eyes looked back at him.

"Welcome back, although I think you'd have enjoyed it more if you'd stayed where you were."

"Buck...where?"

"He's probably at home sleeping or making love to his wife," Clark explained maliciously.

"Wife...no, not ma...married."

"He is now, and believe me he's probably in as much pain as you are!" She heard Turner chuckle as she forced more of the liquid on her reluctant patient.

"Why?"

"Why? Why what?" Clark asked.

"Why y...you help...helping bitch?" He yelped as she roughly pulled the bandage from his thigh.

"Angela is not a bitch, Chris, and you'll do well to remember that! Now I need to clean this and get back to town. I hope you realize that things could be much worse for you. I'm going out of my way to see that you're cared for!"

"Don't d...do me an...any fuckin' favors!" Larabee spat as she pressed against the wound and then replaced the dirty bandage with a clean one.

"You're such an ungrateful bastard! I'm doing as much as your Nathan could do..."

"Not e...even close," Larabee spat and held his breath as she removed the bandage from his side.

"This looks better, but I'm still not putting any stitches in until there's no pus present. Ethan, I won't be able to make it out here tonight so it'll be up to you to change the bandages."

"My pleasure," the man said as he watched the woman working on the blond's injuries.

"How does the arm feel? Is it numb or any tingling in your arm?"

"N...none of y...your f...fuckin' business," the bound man answered sharply. He knew he was goading the woman, but could not answer her questions as if she cared. He felt her working on his side and then another cup was placed at his lips. He thought about refusing the liquid, but the threat of the tube being shoved down his throat made him reconsider and he drank the laudanum laced water and felt his eyelids grow heavy.

Rosemary stood up and washed her hands in the clean basin of water Turner had brought in. She knew the blond was nearly asleep and that he was little or no threat to them and she turned her attention on Turner. "I want you to make sure you do everything I just did this evening and give him the laudanum again tonight. It's imperative we keep him dazed at all times. I'll be back sometime tomorrow morning, but it won't be this early!"

"Yes, Ma'am." Turner said and again walked the woman to her horse. It was still early in the day, but the heat was already uncomfortable as he stood watching her ride away. He looked back at the sleeping man and smiled as an idea began to form. He could force the laudanum on Larabee late in the afternoon and leave for town for a couple of hours. There was a saloon girl he wanted to see and share a bed with for a few hours and then he could ride back here before sun up. Whistling a tune he smiled and walked inside, closing the door behind him as he looked for something to prepare for lunch.

---

Turner moved drunkenly towards his horse as the saloon girl he'd spent most of the night with waved to him. He knew he had to hurry back to the line shack or risk being found out by Rosemary Clark.

"Bitch'll tar and feather me," he slurred as he finally got his foot in the stirrup. He again looked towards the pretty saloon girl before turning and riding out of town, unaware of the man standing in the shadows watching his departure.

Rawlings recognized the man he'd just seen riding out of town and knew he was often in the employ of anyone who needed a shady job done. He hadn't seen him in nearly a week and frowned as he looked at Suzie as she walked into the saloon. It was too late to ride after the man now, but if Turner had money he would be back in town the next night. Evan would follow him when he left and see just what the man was up to and whom he was working for.

---

The day seemed to drag on for Buck, as he couldn't shake the shadow that seemed to have attached itself to his body and soul. Angela was insatiable and they'd spent most of their waking hours in bed. She'd even had their meals delivered to the room and intercepted Carmon at the door each time. He sat coldly while she insisted on feeding him and wanted so much to choke the life out of her, but there was nothing he could do until he was sure Chris Larabee was safe. He felt her hands reach for him again and groaned as his body reacted to the touch.

"See, Lover, you do want me," Angela teased playfully.

"I'm tired, Angela."

"That's what you say, but your body tells me differently."

"It's late and we have to get up early tomorrow to make it into church. It wouldn't look good if the newlyweds were late for church."

"We could stay home."

"No, we need to show respect for Reverend Collins."

"I don't remember you being so all fired big on sermons."

"I wasn't, but that was before I met Josiah Sanchez and I promised him I'd always make it to church if I was near one," the ladies' man lied.

"Oh, Buck, I want you so much right now, but I will leave you alone if you do one thing for me."

"What?" the rogue asked suspiciously.

"Say my name for me. My full name."

"Angela Marion Ta..." he grunted as an elbow was driven into his ribs.

"Don't play me for a fool, Buck. You know what I want."

"Angela Marion Wilmington," the mustached man said in utter defeat. He heard her laughter and felt her cuddle up to him. He shivered as if cold air had blown over his naked body and knew he was lost.

The third night on the trail found the three peacekeepers weary and ready to bed down. They'd had coffee, beans, and bacon and were camped next to a small creek that provided fresh water. Vin knew there were fish in the creek and would catch some before the other two woke at dawn. He was taking the second watch this time and rubbed at his back as a dull ache began to build there. He'd always had pain in his back, sometimes it was so bad it nearly incapacitated him, but tonight it was just an annoying throb. He pulled his blanket up over his body and closed his eyes.

Standish watched as Sanchez and Tanner settled under their bedrolls. He hadn't missed Tanner's wince when he twisted under the blankets and was not so sure he would wake him in four hours. His gaze went to Sanchez and he nodded when the older man pointed to himself and knew he was saying he would take the next watch. The gambler began walking along the outer edges of their makeshift camp and until he found a place to sit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the deck of cards he kept there. There were tricks he could do to keep himself occupied, ones he'd learned growing up in the care of his mother's family. He'd learned at an early age that he could keep his hands and mind occupied by perfecting his technique with the cards. The hours passed quickly as again and again he flipped the deck through his fingers and checked the perimeter of the camp while keeping the fire going. Finally midnight came and he touched the ex-preacher's shoulder gently.

"I believe you wished to be roused for the second watch," he whispered and looked towards the sleeping tracker.

"Yeah, get some sleep, Ez."

"I will, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah stood and shook off the last vestiges of sleep and added a few broken pieces of wood to the fire. He checked the horses and returned to the fire, smiling as he heard the soft snoring from both men. Vin Tanner seemed worn out during the days' ride and it had been obvious his back was bothering him. The older man often wondered what caused the pain and whether it was from an injury or something he'd been born with. Tanner was such a private man he didn't think he'd ever know the full story. The ex-preacher turned away from the fire and strode towards the creek. The moonlight shone off the rippling water and added to the serenity of the musical sound of gurgling flow.

He walked back to his saddle and reached into the bag that clung to one side. There he found a small knife that he'd owned since his days in the ministry. He rarely talked of those days, but often found himself using things he'd learned in his experiences. He walked back to the creek and removed his boots and sock and rolled up the legs of his pants. He knew he had to be perfectly still and let his instincts take over as he stood in the middle of the slowly moving stream. The vibrant moon hung heavy in the sky and illuminated the water and the man who stood silent and still at the center. His eyes spotted a darker shadow and his arm moved as if of its own volition and came up with a writhing fish impaled on its sharp tip. It wasn't big, but he threw it on shore and returned his attention to the job of catching breakfast.

Vin slowly woke to the delicious enticing smell of fish and quickly threw back the blankets to find Josiah Sanchez smiling around a mouthful of trout. He shook his head as he realized the two men had let him sleep and knew it was out of concern for him.

"Thanks," he said simply as he accepted a plate of fish from the conman.

"You're welcome," the ex-preacher said and poured coffee into a battered cup before passing it to the Texan.

"Tastes good."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Tanner. A finer feast I have never before indulged in," Standish blustered.

"Somehow I doubt that, Ezra. Maude didn't strike me as a person who disliked the finer things in life including meals."

"Well, Mr. Sanchez, it behooves me to say that Mothah was not always around when I was growing up, but she did love eating at fabulous restaurants, and I have accompanied her to several, but I reiterate that this is the finest feast I have had and might I add that the company at this time is preferable to the stuff shirts we dined with!"

"Ez, why don'tcha just say ya like our company better."

"I thought I just did," Standish said frowning bewilderedly at the two men. The two smiled knowingly and they ate the remainder of breakfast in silence before saddling the horses and riding towards their destination. They knew if they rode hard the rest of the day they would be in Midfield by midnight or shortly after.

---

Chris woke on and off through the night, mumbling unintelligibly as the fever continued to ravage his body. He'd search for something or someone, but the illusive people he saw in his dreams were always just shadows he could not reach while awake. Someone had thrown a heavy blanket over him and the heat was nearly unbearable, but he did not have the strength to push it off. He frowned as he tried to move his arms and legs, but they were mired in thick sludge that allowed little or no movement at all. The room he was in was completely dark and the only sound was his harsh breathing.

"Sarah," the word was whispered with a deep longing that would've sent tremors through the most hardened heart, but even worse was the sound of soft sobs that escaped the injured man's raw throat. There was no one there to offer comfort or soothe the man from his too-real nightmares as Chris Larabee slipped back into the dreams that did little to ease his tortured body and spirit.

---

Buck held the reins of the horse as he drove the buggy towards town. His new wife sat beside him, but few words were exchanged between them as the town loomed in the distance. They'd passed several other couples walking and riding and acknowledged them with a tip of the hat or a simple wave of the hand.

"You're too quiet today, Buck, what's wrong?"

"How can you even ask me that, Angela?" Wilmington asked not bothering to look at the woman as his voice was edged with bitter defeat.

"Perhaps we should go home. It wouldn't do for people to see you unhappy so soon after we married," the woman said coldly.

"No, I'll put on a good show for you, Angela, but you need to know that that's all it is, an act and God help me, but I'll see it through."

"I'm sure you will, but you also need to think about Chris and what I can do for or to him."

"That's always on my mind, Angela," the gentle rogue said as they drew up alongside another buggy. He quickly climbed out, threw the reins over the itching post and reached up to help her from the buggy. He could feel the townspeople watching him and made a show of pulling her close and walking towards the small church with her. He spotted Evan Rawlings and smiled as the man linked arms with Martha Collins. The two seemed well suited and he hoped they could find happiness together.

"Buck, are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking about Evan and Miss Collins."

"They do make a handsome couple, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do," he said wistfully as they entered the church and took seats halfway up the aisle. Ethan and Martha quickly joined them exchanged pleasantries before Phillip Collins stood before the congregation and began to speak.

---

Ethan Turner groaned as he dismounted and stepped inside the line shack. He knew he was later getting back than he should have been and was glad Clark was not there. He'd fallen off his horse and slept several hours before coming to and blinking his eyes against the blinding sunlight stabbing at his skull. His big bay was standing a few yards away feeding on the grass it found there. It didn't take long for him to grab the reins and mount up, but the ride back had been nothing but pure torture.

Turner enter the shack and heard someone talking, but quickly realized it was just Larabee speaking to someone only he could see. He walked to the bed, swayed and rubbed at tired eyes before finally focusing on his charge.

"Damn, ya'd best not die on me ya bastard! I got plans for the money she's givin' me!" He looked around the shack and tried to think past the headache and sour stomach and realized he needed to make sure the bandages were changed and Larabee drank something before he could give into his own body's need for sleep. Taking the bucket from the table he hurried outside to the well and drew fresh water. He hurried back inside and started a fire before hanging a kettle of water over it. While he waited for the water to heat he went back to the injured man and pulled back the covers. His fever was still high and tiny beads of sweat ran down the pale cheeks.

With a put-upon sigh he sat down and began bathing the glistening chest and washing away the evidence of Larabee's fever.

"Should be me lyin' down, Larabee, but if that bitch comes out here and sees ya like this she's li'ble ta tear a few strips from my hide."

Chris found himself dragged from his quiet dream as something was roughly washed over his body. He struggled to get away, but quickly realized there was no escape and this nightmare was very real. Forcing heavy lids to rise he stared at the shadowy figure sitting beside the bed. The man was muttering something with each swipe of the cloth, but Chris could not make sense of his slurred words. He knew there was no point in fighting him, and right now he didn't have the strength to do so. He drifted in fevered delirium, but was dragged towards consciousness once more as something was placed at his lips. He drank without fighting and gasped as the slightly too warm liquid flowed down his throat. He knew to get sick would probably kill him because there was no doubt in his mind that his tormentor would and could easily lose his temper. All of this ran through Chris's mind until finally his head was released and he was allowed to seek out his dreams once more.

---

Rosemary silently cursed as she looked at her husband. Joseph had never shown any backbone where she was concerned, but the last few days he'd become increasingly dominating and wanted her to break all ties with Angela Tate. She couldn't let him ruin something that had been a saving grace in her life at a time when she had nothing to fall back on. Since their first meeting in St. Louis the two women had bonded and vowed they would always be there for each other. She gently straightened the blankets over him as she listened to him once more.

"Rosemary, did you hear what I said?"

"I heard you, Joseph, I just don't know what to say."

"Tell me you'll do as I say," Clark told his younger wife.

"I can't, Joseph. Angela and I have been through too much to throw it all away because you're nervous about what you know."

"Nervous? No, it goes beyond nervous. I thought I knew you and could change you, but after seeing the way you've been acting I find I don't know you at all."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't show any remorse for what you've done. If anything you seem to be enjoying yourself. I won't be a party to it anymore and as soon as I get into town today I'm going to speak with Sheriff Rawlings."

"You can't mean that, Joseph!"

"I can and I do, Rosemary. I will not allow you two to hurt anyone else. How many have there been? Can you even answer that?"

"No, but there haven't been that many and they left us no choice."

"What about Larabee and Wilmington? What did they do to you?"

"Nothing to me, Joseph, but Wilmington bedded Angela and then told her he would not marry her! Don't you see we had to do something or her reputation in Midfield would be ruined!"

"She must have been a willing partner..."

"That may be, but only because she loved him and thought they were going to be wed! He used her and we had to do something to make sure her reputation was untarnished."

"Is her reputation worth a man's life?"

"Tell me Joseph, would we be having this conversation if the roles were reversed and Angela or I were the ones in their position?"

"Of course we would! This has to stop before anyone else is killed, Rosemary. Come see Sheriff Rawlings with me and we'll get this straightened out."

"I'll go to jail, Joseph."

"Not if I can help it," Clark said as a sharp pain raced through his chest. He groaned and sank back onto his chair, as the pain grew worse. He looked up at his wife and saw the smile on her face as she held a small vial in front of his eyes.

"Is something wrong, Joseph?"

"Wh...what did you d...do?" the older man asked as cramping pain cut through his gut.

"I've grown tired of waiting for you to die, so I just gave you a little something to help you along. Is there much pain...I did not really mean for you to suffer so, but I refuse to let you ruin things for Angela and I. We will be leaving before long, but I will stay around to see that you have a proper burial. After all you have been a good husband. Sh," she placed her hand over his lips as he tried to talk and leaned down to kiss him once more. "Save your strength, Joseph, although there is really no need. I will send for Dr. Morton shortly, but first I need to be sure it is too late to help you. I'll make you proud of me though. I'll play the distraught widow so well the town of Midfield will be in danger of flooding. They'll come to help me and mourn your passing, but it will be easier that you passed with the woman you love by your side."

"W...won't b...believe you," the dying man gasped as he clutched at his chest. Now he knew why she had served him breakfast in bed. It would be easy for her to tell her story and have people believe he had truly had a peaceful passing.

"Yes, they will, Joseph, you see I will put on a performance that would take your breath away if you had any left in you, but I don't think you hear me even now. Thank you for giving me some good years, but now I must grieve your passing and look to my future." Rosemary let the tears fall and hurried out of the bedroom. She threw open the doors and called for help and was relieved to see Matthew Jennings racing towards the house.

"What's wrong, Mrs. Clark?"

"Oh, Matt, he's...it's Joseph...he...he...oh God send someone for Dr. M...Morton!"

"What's wrong?" the ranch hand repeated as the woman trembled at his touch.

"It's Joseph. I woke up before him and had Maria make breakfast for us, but Joseph seemed t...to be s...sleeping a...and he's b...been do tired lately that I...I just didn't want to wake him, but he was so happy when I brought his breakfast t...to him."

"What are you trying to say, Mrs. Clark?"

"H...he's gone, Matt. He's dead...oh, God," She wilted towards the ground and he caught her and lifted her into his arms and carried her inside.

Matt moved towards the spare bedroom and placed her on the bed before getting Maria to come sit with her. Once he was sure the woman was taken care of he hurried to the bedroom and found Joseph Clark propped up on pillows. His eyes were open and unseeing and Jennings knew before he checked that the man was dead. Taking a deep breath he removed the tray and covered the man's body with the blanket. He knew they needed to get the doctor out to look at Mrs. Clark and make sure things were arranged for the man's burial. Turning away from the room he headed outside to assign the tasks to other ranch hands and to send a message to Angela Wilmington.

---

Angela looked at the young man who rode swiftly towards them. She recognized him as one of Clark's hands and knew something was wrong as he drew abreast of the buggy.

"Afternoon, Ma'am, Mr. Wilmington."

"Good afternoon, Walter, is something wrong?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Jennings sent me to fetch ya back to the ranch."

"Why? Is she ill?" Angela asked.

"It's Mr. Clark, Mrs. Ta...Wilmington. Seems he died this morning and she's very distraught."

"Oh, Buck, would you drive me over there?"

Wilmington nodded as he tried to read the look on the woman's face. He'd seen a slight smile before a mask of grief descended and the woman acted as if she was truly saddened at the news. "Course I will."

"I'm gonna go on into town and fetch Reverend Collins and Doc Morton," Walter Hastings advised.

"Thank you, Walter," Angela said as her husband flicked the reins and the horse started forward again. She watched the handsome rogue's face and knew something was running through his mind. "Buck, what are you thinking about?"

"Joseph seemed fine when they left the other day."

"Yes, but he had a weak heart according to Dr. Morton."

"That right? He sure didn't show any sign of that when he was dancing with Rosemary."

"What are you trying to say, Buck?"

"Did she kill him, Angela?"

"Of course not! Rosemary may be much younger than Joseph, but she loved him as much as I love you."

"You got a funny way of showing love."

"What do you mean?" She asked indignantly and heard a harsh laugh escape.

"I'd answer that, but I'm afraid of what you'd do to Chris."

"Buck, I am giving you a chance to speak whatever is on your mind with a promise that for the moment nothing will happen to Chris Larabee. If you have anything you want to get off your chest you'd better do it now while I'm in the right frame of mind!"

"Chris won't be hurt?"

"No, it stays right here, but once we reach Rosemary's things return to the way they are supposed to be and Chris will pay for what you do or say there."

"I thought I knew you, Angela, but the woman I knew and loved wasn't real was she?"

"She was, but she hasn't existed since she was forced into a loveless marriage and had to run away from home at fourteen because she killed her husband. I won't lie and say it was an accident, because that would be a lie. I killed him because he thought he owned me and could do what he wanted to me. The final straw for me was when he bit me so badly he drew blood and laughed at me when I tried to cover myself. I ran away, changed my name and became Angela Tate when I met you in Midfield. I ran off with Robert Stratton because he had money and I craved that kind of life, but I found that having was not the same as wanting."

"So what happened to Stratton?"

"He died...and no I didn't kill him, not directly anyway. Rosemary and I knew we were going to be blamed and I took what money I could and came back here. Do you want to know why?"

"Because of me?"

"That's right. All the while I was married to Robert I dreamed it was your arms that held me and I knew I had to find you again. We settled down here even after I resigned myself to not finding you. Angela met and married Joseph and I bought the ranch we live in and was content with my life until I saw the story about you and Four Corners. I knew fate meant for us to be together again."

"How many people have you two murdered, Angela?"

"That's a loaded question, Buck, and one I'm not going to answer."

"Did she kill Joseph?"

"I won't answer that one either, Buck, and if that's the kind of questions you insist on asking then this ends now."

"You said it would last until we reached the Clark place."

"I'm changing my mind, Buck, so you've been warned! Watch what you say!"

Wilmington lapsed into silence as he continued to drive the buggy past the Tate ranch and further along the trail towards the Clark place. His mind kept turning to Chris Larabee and he wondered if the blond was still alive. He felt Angela move closer to him and wanted more than anything to push her away, but thoughts of retaliation made him grin and bear it.

---

Ethan Turner wiped his lips as he sat on the chair watching for Rosemary Clark. The woman was later than normal and he was beginning to think she wasn't going to show up as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Larabee was unnaturally quiet since he'd given him the laudanum and herbs she'd left for him. Turner was enjoying the quiet, but as the day drew towards an end he was desperate to go into town and get a drink. He shook his head angrily at being stuck at the line shack and made up his mind to give Clark another hour and if she didn't show up he'd take off into town and if she came out he'd just tell the woman he'd been looking for her so she could come out and check on Larabee.

Smiling, Turner stood up and went back inside where he heated water and began preparing the herbal mixture he'd force on the injured man. It would not take long and he'd be on his way into town within the hour.

---

Buck watched as Angela and Rosemary sat in the parlor of the Clark home. There had been a lot of visitors throughout the day until Angela insisted that her friend needed to rest. Reverend Collins and his sister were among the last to leave and again Buck noticed that Evan Rawlings was paying rapt attention to the preacher's sister.

"Buck, would you bring Rosie and myself some tea."

"It's been such a trying day I would prefer something a little stronger," Clark said as she smiled at her friend.

"Sure, Rosie, anything you wish."

"Brandy, a big one," the other woman said and pointed towards the table that held a variety of liquor.

"Oh that sounds wonderful," Angela said, smiling at her husband as he quickly poured them each a drink. "Perhaps you should spend the next few days at our home."

"Thank you, Angela, but I wouldn't dream of interfering with your wedded bliss," Clark said as she smiled and motioned towards Wilmington.

"How is he behaving?"

"Very well. In fact at church this morning he was more than attentive and if I hadn't insisted on behaving in a dignified fashion I believe we would have been driven out of town. It was wonderful," Angela explained.

"Sounds like Buck knows who is in charge here."

"I think he's beginning to realize his choices are very limited. I think he's worried about Chris today."

"I'm afraid with everything that's happened I've been unable to check on him, but I'm sure Ethan is taking very good care of him."

"I'll ride out there tomorrow before the funeral while Buck makes sure you're taken care of."

"I'd like to see him," Wilmington said and heard the two women laugh.

"That's out of the question right now, Lover. Right now I don't have the time to let you visit him, but if you prefer I'll stay here as well and we can leave your friend in Turner's not so capable hands. It's your choice, Buck, but keep in mind that it is in my best interests to make sure Chris stays alive. So what's your pleasure?"

"You go check on him," Wilmington said, shoulder slumping in defeat as he glared at the two people he hated above all else.

---

Vin, Josiah, and Ezra rode into the sleepy little town and looked around. None of the men was all that impressed with what they saw, but looks could be deceiving. The trio headed towards the only place that seemed to still have any life and watched as a man stumbled through the door and landed in a heap on the ground.

Tanner caught sight of a slight movement in the shadows of the alley between the saloon and the mercantile and dismounted as the drunk staggered towards the lone horse tied to the hitching post. He heard Josiah and Ezra dismount and hurry past him.

"Are you coming, Vin?"

"Gimme a minute, Josiah," Tanner said as he watched the shadows for further movement. The drunk seemed unaware of the person watching him and Vin looped Peso's reins over the post and sauntered slowly towards the alley. He knew whatever was going on was none of his business, but his instincts were not to be ignored. Again the drunk tried to mount up, but was unable to do so as he slid to the ground and lay still. Vin turned towards the alley as the shadow moved out into the street and was bathed in the meager light coming from the swinging batwing doors. "Friend a yers?"

"No, just someone I needed to find out more about."

"Ya the law here?"

"Have been for near on fifteen years! Name's Evan Rawlings. Give me a hand to get this one into a cell so he can sleep it off."

"Sure, name's Vin Tanner, my friends and I are lookin'..."

"Vin Tanner. Damn, talk about coincidences. I was gonna telegram Four Corners first thing in the mornin'. Is Chris with you boys?"

"No, he's s'posed ta be here with Buck."

"Damn, I was afraid of that. All right, let's get him locked up and I'll buy you boys a drink and we'll talk about what's been happening here." The two men dragged Turner towards the jail and locked him inside the single cell before crossing the street and entering the saloon once more. Vin spotted Josiah and Ezra at a back table and hurried to join them.

"Friend of yours, Vin?" Sanchez asked.

"Josiah, Ezra, this here's the law in these parts. Think maybe he has some news 'bout Buck and Chris."

"Evan Rawlings. I may have news, but I'm not so sure it's gonna do anything to ease your minds any."

"So Mister's Larabee and Wilmington did visit your town," Standish stated.

"Yeah, they did. Saw Chris a day or two after he arrived. Didn't seem real happy and said he was sending a message. I take it you boys never got that message," Rawlings asked.

"Haven't heard from either of them since they left Four Corners," Sanchez answered worriedly.

"I take it they are no longer here?" Standish asked.

"Buck is. Got himself hitched a few days ago..."

"Buck got married?" Sanchez asked incredulously and saw the disbelief on Tanner and Standish's faces. They all knew Buck had feelings for Angela Tate, but could not believe he would have married the woman without letting them know.

"He sure did."

"Was Mr. Larabee at the happy nuptials?" the gambler asked.

"No, and Buck was acting kind of strange."

"How so?" Tanner asked.

"It was like he was forcing himself to smile and I swear he shied away from his new wife, now does that sound like a man who's happy he's getting married?" Rawlings asked.

"Sounds more like a man who is being forced into doing something he has no desire to do," Standish said.

"That's what I thought. I figured something was wrong, but couldn't get a chance to speak with Buck alone. Angela was always with him. Buck asked me to stand with him, and I think that's when I knew something was really wrong, because he'd said Chris was going to stand for him. There's something else too."

"What?" Sanchez inquired.

"Angela's friend is a woman named Rosemary Clark. They came here together and Rosemary married a rancher named Joseph Clark. They bought the hotel here in town and run the telegraph office as well."

"What does all of this have to do with Chris and Buck?" the ex-preacher asked.

"I'm getting to it. I've been leery of those two since they came here, but could never prove anything. Even the telegrams I sent came back saying Rosemary and Angela were exactly who they claimed to be. I think that was because my messages were never sent. Joseph Clark died today. Now I'm not saying there was anything wrong about how he died, but coming so close to Chris's disappearance it kinda tells me there's two skunks loose and Buck and Chris are knee deep in something they can't get out of without help."

"So who was the man we put in your jail?" Tanner asked.

"His name is Turner. Not too sure about his first name, but he's been around a couple of years. He's got one of them faces that makes you think he's a kid, but he's older than that and I'm thinkin' he knows where Chris is!" Rawlings was shocked at how quickly the three men came to their feet. He stood and blocked the exit as best he could, but knew there would be no stopping them if they really wanted to go through him. He had never been a coward, but there were times like this when a man should just back off.

"I believe it would be beneficial to your health if you remove yourself from our presence," Standish blustered.

"What are you boys planning?" Rawlings asked.

"Got a few questions fer Turner!" the Texan spat.

"He's in no shape to answer questions and if he's working for Angela Tate and Rosemary Clark then he's not gonna be all that willing to talk to you."

"We know how to handle men like Turner," Sanchez advised.

"I'm sure you do, but if you sit down I'll tell you what I've got planned and I think you'll find my plans a lot simpler than yours."

"Got five minutes!" Tanner advised as he sat back down.

"I figure we let Turner wake up on his own or if you're in such an all fired hurry to get moving we can douse him with water and I can tell him to move on. When he leaves we can follow at a safe distance and hope he leads us to Chris."

"Sounds like a good plan," Sanchez said. "Vin, think you can track him in the dark?"

"No problem. Sheriff..."

"Call me Evan."

"Evan, how sure are ya that this guy is workin' fer them two women?"

"Pretty damn sure considerin' how many times I've seen him visit Rosemary Clark at the telegraph office," Rawlings explained.

"Any way you can get a message to Buck?" Sanchez asked.

"Not without his wife 'round. Least she'll be busy with her friend and Joseph's funeral."

"Will Mr. Clark be buried in the town cemetery?" Standish asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Perhaps it would be prudent if you and I remained in town. I believe Mr. Wilmington would be quite relieved if he knew he had assistance without alarming Mrs. Wilmington."

"He's right, Evan," Sanchez said and reached for his drink.

"Ya sure yer all right with stayin' in town, Ez?" Tanner asked.

"I believe it will be for the best," Standish said. The four men stood up and walked towards the door as the barman ushered out the last two men.

It was nearly two in the morning and the moon was shining over his head when Ethan Turner grumbled about needing a drink and mounted his horse. Without a backwards glance he turned his horse out of town and headed towards the trail that led to the line shack, unaware of the two men waiting in the alley.

---

Chris shivered as if cold, yet beads of sweat were evident on his forehead and chest. The pillow below his head was soaked with perspiration as the blond head shook back and forth. He mumbled words that sounded as if they were being forced through a throat that had seized up and yet no one was there to hear him. He opened his eyes and tried to moisten his lips, but there didn't seem to be any moisture to be found.

The room he was in was dark, but he tried to focus his eyes and find his captor. He needed something to drink, but there was no one there to help him. Alone in the darkness he reached for the only source of light left to him and a softly whispered name followed him.

"Sarah..."

---

Buck lay awake in the bed he shared with Angela Tate. They'd returned to their home with Rosemary's insistence and Wilmington knew the woman was not grieving for her husband. Angela had long ago fallen asleep and although he hated her touch he could not chance her anger if he left their bed. He hated what his life had become and even worse hated the feel of her hair against his chest or the soft breath against his shoulder. But this was how he would live until he found a way to get to Chris Larabee and get him the help he needed. Until then he would do what needed to be done and take his vengeance out on Angela and Rosemary when he time was right.

---

Angela opened her eyes and smiled as she heard the snores emanating from her husband. She knew the sleeping draught she'd slipped him had finally taken over and that he would sleep for several hours. She needed to get out to the line shack, make sure everything was as it should be, ride back here and head into town for Joseph's funeral. Sliding her long legs over the edge, Angela stood up and stretched. She looked at Wilmington and knew she would not be able to keep him much longer, but she would enjoy his prowess in bed for as long as she could.

She quickly dressed and hurried out of the room. Carmon was still sleeping and she would leave without notice and that was just the way she wanted it. She hurried to the stable and saddled the fastest horse she had before leading him outside. She mounted up and dug her heels into the side and smiled as the animal took off. She loved riding free as the wind, but her haste today had little to do with enjoyment. She needed to check on Larabee and Turner, and then get back to the house.

---

Turner was relieved to see the hitching post was empty and he smiled in spite of the mounting headache. He knew he'd drunk too much and was lucky the sheriff had only ordered him out of town or spend the next few days locked behind bars. He moved into the shack and cursed the foul smell of sickness that greeted him.

"I don't think this is worth it!" he spat as he removed his jacket without realizing the smell was coming from his own body. He threw the jacket aside and hurried to get fresh water and care for the injured man.

---

"Wait up a minute, Vin," Sanchez warned as the younger man seemed ready to storm the shack.

"Chris could be in there!"

"I know, but there's a rider coming."

"Where?" Tanner asked, hating the way he'd been distracted and been unaware of a rider coming in.

"Coming in just to the south of us," Sanchez explained and pointed to the darker shadow headed towards the line shack.

"Looks like a woman," Tanner observed as she rode within a hundred feet of them. Neither man moved as the woman raced past, but they wondered if things had just gone from bad to worse as she dismounted and hurried into the line shack.

"Maybe we should wait until she leaves."

"What if she's come..."

"Vin, we don't even know for sure Chris is in there."

"Damn it, J'siah, my gut says he is," Tanner said as Turner came out of the shack and grabbed the saddlebags off the woman's horse.

"I trust your gut instincts, Vin, but right now I think we're better off waiting until one of them leaves. We go in there all piss and vinegar there's liable to be shooting and someone's gonna be hurt. Might be best to wait and see because if Chris is in there we got no idea what kind of shape he's in," Sanchez explained as he dismounted and led his horse towards a stand of trees where he waited for the Texan to join him.

---

Angela cursed as she entered the line shack and the sickly smell of sour vomit and stale liquor assaulted her senses. She saw the fear on Turner's face as her gaze quickly swept the small room.

"Mrs. W...Wilmington, wasn't 'spectin' ya," Turner explained fearfully.

"I can see that! Where the hell have you been?"

"I been here..."

"Then why is your horse soaked with sweat and still saddled and why do you smell like a man who's been drinking and whoring around?"

"I...I just went ta get supplies and had a drink or two while I was there. Man gets thirsty way out here and I needed the stuff ta take care of that bastard!" His head snapped back as she slapped him across the face.

"Don't ever lie to me, Ethan, because you'll pay for it! Now go bring my saddlebags in and make damn sure I have clean water and bandages!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Turner said as he hurried from the shack.

Angela looked at Larabee and knew he needed more help than she could give him, but she was all he had right now. Rosemary would know what to do for the man, but somehow she didn't expect the blond to be with them much longer. They'd have to make sure Wilmington didn't know what kind of tenuous hold his friend had on life right now. She set to work on the wounds as soon as Turner brought her the saddlebags. Once she finished with Larabee she packed up and headed out to her horse and took off back to her ranch.

---

"Whoever she is she's in a hell of a hurry to get somewhere," Sanchez said as they watched from their vantage point.

"That jest leaves Turner!"

"Have you got a plan?"

"Always got a plan, J'siah," the Texan said with a grin.

"Yeah, I have noticed that. So how do you want to do this?"

"I'm just gonna ride down and say howdy."

"Simple as that?"

"Sometimes simple is the best," Tanner told him and reached for Peso's reins.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Just make sure you have his attention while I get in behind him," Sanchez ordered as the Texan mounted Peso and began to ride towards the shack.

---

Turner frowned as he finished setting up a pot of coffee. The chewing out he received from Angela Tate left a bitter taste in his mouth and coupled with his sour stomach gave him the disposition of a rabid cougar. He kept glancing from his gun on the table to the man who mumbled incoherently on the small bed.

"Should fuckin' kill ya and ride off, but I need that money!" Turner said and punctuated his word with a fist to Larabee's thigh. The injured man cried out as his body arched on the bed and then dropped back down. He heard the sound of a horse approaching and wondered what the woman had forgotten as he hurried to the door.

"Howdy, Mister, jest wanted ta ask fer a little water."

"Who the hell are ya?" Turner asked as he glanced towards the gun he'd left on the table.

"Just a drifter. Ain't planning on stayin', but could really use a drink."

"Help yerself and get on yer way," Turner said and pointed towards the covered well. He watched the buckskin clad man move toward the well and walked away from the door of the shack in order to keep the man in sight. Too late he heard movement behind him and turned to face a large man in a Serape standing between him and the shack.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" Sanchez ordered.

"Who the fuck are ya?" Turner asked angrily as he spun back to face the second man.

"Could be we're avenging angels," the ex-preacher whispered as he turned towards the inside of the shack.

"Josiah?"

"Vin, keep that miserable sonofabitch out here!"

"Is it Chris?" the Texan asked worriedly.

"Yes," was all Sanchez said as he hurried inside and over to the bed. The lean gunslinger was battered and bruised and his forehead and chest glistened with perspiration.

"Jesus!" Tanner cursed, shoving the other man roughly into the single chair. He reached for a strip of material that hung across the table and quickly tied Turner's arms behind his back before moving to check on Sanchez and Larabee.

"Chris, Son, can you hear me?" the older man tried as he watched Larabee's knuckles turning white as he gripped the rough-hewn blanket.

"Hey, Cowboy, me and J'siah are here," Tanner explained as a pair of glazed green eyes opened and looked at him. He saw no sign of recognition and knew his friend was locked in some kind of waking nightmare.

"Vin, he don't know who we are right now," Sanchez told the Texan.

"What the fuck did ya do ta him?"

"Wasn't me, Mister. It was Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington. They shot him, but I've been takin' good care of 'im!" Turner lied.

"Like hell! He's burnin' up!" Tanner spat. He watched as Sanchez managed to get the blanket away from the blond and pull it back to reveal two separate bandages and numerous bruises. The bandage covering the thigh showed evidence of fresh bleeding and the big preacher's hands eased back the material.

"Looks like someone hit him here!"

"W...wasn't me!" Turner stammered as cold blue eyes turned on him. He knew the man was dangerous and cringed as the lanky Texan grabbed his collar.

"Ya hit him ya bastard and I'm gonna make sure ya don't fuck with anyone else!"

"Vin, leave him be and go bring in some fresh water!" Sanchez ordered knowing the man needed to keep busy. His relationship with Chris Larabee was that of a brother and it was hard seeing someone you cared about hurting, especially someone you considered family. "Vin, did you hear me?"

"Heard ya, J'siah, this bastard best stay put or I'll tear him apart!" the Texan warned softly, yet there was a deadly intensity that Turner could read easily.

Josiah sat in the chair beside Larabee's bed and reached out to touch the younger man. Larabee's skin was hot to the touch, yet the blond seemed to shiver uncontrollably. He wished Jackson had been able to accompany them, but that was not the case. They would have to get Larabee into town and pray there was a physician in residence.

"Looks like someone tried to help you out, Son, but I wish Nathan was here," Sanchez removed the bloodied bandage and winced at the swollen area surrounding what was evidently a bullet wound. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the Texan standing beside him with a basin of water.

"J'siah, how bad?"

"Bad enough. We need to get him cleaned up and into town. Any chance you could find what you need to make a travois?"

"Think so. Saw a couple of good lengths of wood out by the well. Ya all right here with that bastard?"

"He's not gonna try anything. Faster we get Chris into town the better."

"Does he know we're here?"

"No, right now I don't think he knows anything except that he's hurt," Sanchez explained as he finished removing the bonds that held the blond to the bed. Before he could react, Larabee came off the bed in fever baked delirium and started swinging at the older man. He fought as if his life depended on it and soon had two men holding him down.

"F....fuckin' bas...bastard!" Larabee cried as his strength left him. He heard two voices talking to him and one finally cut through the pain and horror he felt. His eyes became fixated on the buckskin clad form that stood to his left and he felt relief wash over him as another voice cut through the pain.

"Hey, Cowboy, ya with us?"

"V...Vin? Jo...Josiah?" Larabee ground out through clenched teeth as he gripped the older man's hand.

"Easy, Chris, just hold on and we'll make you more comfortable," Sanchez vowed. "Vin, get that travois built!"

"Sure, don't ya go anywhere, Cowboy!"

"N...not g...goin' any...anywhere. Jesus!" Larabee's body grew rigid with pain as he shifted slightly. He didn't see the worry and fear on his friends' faces as they tried to help him.

"I'll be right outside if'n ya need me, J'siah!"

"All right, Vin. I'm going to take a look at his wounds and maybe give him a little laudanum. Make sure that sonofabitch can't get loose!"

Chris heard the two of them talking and closed his eyes in and effort to ride out the waves of agony twisting through his gut. He heard Josiah and Vin talking and drifted towards relieved sleep as he felt Josiah's big hand on his forehead.

---

Angela smiled inwardly as her husband stood beside her at the graveyard. Rosemary stood on her right, tears flowing freely as Reverend Collins spoke the words from the well-worn bible. She kept glancing at Wilmington; well aware of the anger he was holding inside. Something told her the man knew what had really happened to Joseph Clark, but for now there was nothing he could do about it.

Buck felt his wife watching him and fought to keep the anger and hurt from showing on his face. Most of the townspeople were in attendance and he heard several newcomers behind him. Evan Rawlings was watching him closely, but there was no way he could acknowledge the man with the two women watching him. He turned to his left and had to stop himself from gasping out the name of the man who stood several feet away from him. He fought the urge to look again, but something told him he would really see the gambler dressed in the familiar red coat. If Ezra Standish was there, then so were the others and that meant help was there and it was only a matter of time before they found out where Chris Larabee was being held.

---

Ezra Standish had maneuvered himself into the crowd of grievers and knew if Wilmington turned in his direction he would spot him immediately. When then dark haired man turned towards him and their eyes locked for a few short seconds, but the conman easily read the hope and relief in his friend's eyes, before Buck's attention returned to the funeral service.

Standish studied the two women standing beside Wilmington and knew these were the two he'd spoken with Rawlings about. There was no real evidence against Clark and Tate, but they would dig until they found whatever evidence was out there.

'Don't worry, Buck, you won't be stuck in this marriage for long,' Standish vowed.

---

Vin worked at making sure the travois would hold up to the task of bringing Larabee into Midfield. They'd talked about him going for the physician, but it would end up taking longer and if the doctor was not there that was time they'd wasted. At least in town they could get the supplies they needed and there would be ice available to bring down Larabee's fever. He stretched his back, wincing as the muscles ached and he reached for the canteen beside him. He drank his fill and then turned his attention to the conveyance he'd just finished. It was strong and sturdy and there was no doubt in his mind that it would hold up to the job it was meant for. He'd lined it with one of the blankets found inside the line shack and checked the joins once more and secured it to Peso before hurrying into the shack. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the fevered gunslinger.

Larabee's eyes were closed, but Tanner didn't think he was sleeping as he looked at the evidence of pain lining the pale face. He moved to help Sanchez and watched the sea green eyes open and bore into him, imploring him with just a look that Vin could easily read.

"B...Buck?" the blond rasped.

"Ezra's in town keeping an eye on him, Chris. Once we get you to Midfield, we'll make damn sure he's out of danger. Rawlings knows we're here and he'll arrest the two women as soon as we let him know you're safe," Sanchez explained.

"Ya don't need ta worry 'bout any of it, Cowboy. Jest sleep and we'll get ya home," Tanner vowed.

"Home? Four Corners?"

"As soon as the doc says yer ready ta go we'll get ya back to Corners," Tanner assured him.

"Vin, did you get the travois finished?"

"It's ready, J'siah," Tanner told him as Larabee's eyes closed. This time there was no doubt that the blond was either sleeping or unconscious and whichever it was, Tanner prayed he'd stay under until after they reached town.

"Vin, we'll wrap him in the blankets he's lying on and I'll carry him to the horses."

"Peso's stronger than the other two," the Texan told him and saw the head nod once in agreement. Turner would be bound to his own horse and Sanchez would have the reins.

"All right, guess its time to get moving," Sanchez said and tucked the blankets around the lean gunslinger. He stood up and gently reached for the unconscious blond before standing and heading towards the door. He spotted Peso and the travois and gently placed the injured man on it. It didn't take them long to secure Larabee to the makeshift conveyance and Sanchez turned back to the shack. "I'll get Turner!"

"Thanks, J'siah," Tanner said tucking the blanket around the gunslinger and arranging it so the sun would not burn the man's skin during the trip into town.

---

'Just stay calm, help is here,' Wilmington thought as the grievers dispersed and he walked beside the two women. He knew the plan was to stay at the hotel for the night and he was grateful he hadn't argued with them when it was suggested earlier. He'd seen Standish walk away from the graveside and wished he could get close enough to speak with the conman, but Angela was keeping a tight rein on his movements.

"Buck, you seem awfully withdrawn," the red haired woman stated.

"A man is dead, Angela, would you rather I celebrated like you and Rosemary seemed to be doing last night?"

"Watch what you say, Buck. Just because we're staying in town tonight doesn't mean Chris can't be punished tomorrow morning. There will be a lot of people coming to speak with Rosie and I expect you to act in the appropriate manner."

"That's what I was doing. I thought I was being respectful considering Joseph is dead and his wife is probably behind it." He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew he'd probably overstepped his bounds when anger flared in the green eyes.

"Chris will pay for that comment, Buck."

"Angela, don't..."

"You should have thought of that before you spoke to me like that. Keep it up and I assure you Chris Larabee won't live to see another sunrise."

Buck spotted Standish and prayed the man was not alone as they stepped into the hotel. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the gambler speaking with the sheriff before the two men stepped into the jail.

'God, Ezra, please tell me you're not alone!' he thought as he accompanied the two women up the stairs.

---

Ezra walked into the jail and took a seat across from the sheriff before speaking. "Buck seems to be under guard this afternoon."

"Yeah, he does. Angela doesn't let him out of her sight and when she's not around Rosemary Clark is there. I wish there was some way to get a message to him."

"Buck Wilmington is a smart man and believe me he knows I'm here. It wouldn't take much for him to realize why I've shown up and hopefully he knows I wouldn't come alone. I'm hoping that Mr. Tanner and Mr. Sanchez return with our missing peacekeeper before the day is over."

"Yeah, that would be good. I'm glad Doc Morton stayed in town today, because I don't think those two would think twice about hurting a hostage to fortune and I think that's exactly what Chris is."

"I believe your jail may soon house two of the most beautiful prisoners to ever break the law," Standish said.

"Wish I could say you're wrong, but I've been trying to find evidence to put them in jail for some time." Rawlings took a deep breath and stood up. "I missed breakfast this morning, Ezra. Care to join me at the saloon?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Standish agreed and walked to the door.

---

The trip to Midfield took longer than expected as they stopped several times to take care of Larabee's needs. The blond's body trembled as if cold, yet beads of sweat were evident on his face. The left arm was still strapped to his body and both men knew it was broken and left it immobilized. They managed to get him to drink, but not nearly enough to ease their minds.

Vin kept glancing over his shoulder as the journey continued and darkness soon blanketed the landscape. His worry about spending a night on the trail intensified, as Larabee seemed to grow worse.

"Vin, think that's Midfield up ahead!" Sanchez called as he spotted the signal fires at the center of a cluster of buildings.

"Thank God," Tanner said and unconsciously moved Peso a little faster.

---

Buck could hear the two women talking as he looked out over the town. The small fires burned in the street and cast a circle of ghostly light upon the buildings. He'd been unable to eat with the threat once more hanging over Larabee's head. Angela's temper continued to rise throughout the day and he knew the blond would suffer for what he'd said. The glass held tightly in his hand contained an amber liquid that he hadn't tasted since pouring it.

Buck took a deep breath and was about to turn away from the window when movement at the edge of the firelight caught his attention. He pressed his left hand against the window as the newcomers rode into view. He recognized the buckskin-clad man riding Peso and the ex-preacher riding his big Bay and smiled inwardly as he realized help had indeed arrived. A small smile formed on his face, but quickly disappeared as he spotted the travois being drawn by Peso.

"Chris," he whispered with a mixture of trepidation and hope as they rode towards the jail.

"Did you say something, Buck?"

"N...no, just thinking," the ladies' man stammered, as he watched Tanner dismount and hurry to check on the injured man. He hurried towards the door and raced down the hall towards the stairs as his wife called his name sharply. He ignored her voice as he raced out the front door of the hotel. "Vin! Josiah!"

"Buck, watch out!" Sanchez shouted as he spotted a woman behind Wilmington. He drew his gun at the same time as the woman fired and prayed she was not as confident or proficient with the weapon as she looked.

Wilmington dove to the right and felt something tear through his shirt at the same time a burning pain in his arm registered. He heard a second shot echo the first and turned to see Rosemary Clark fall to the ground. The woman writhed for several seconds as doors opened and morbidly curious townspeople peered into the street. Rawlings hurried to check on the woman, gun in hand as he kicked the weapon out of her reach.

"She just took a shot at Buck!" Sanchez warned as the lawman touched her throat.

"Is she dead?" someone called from the half opened door of the saloon.

"No, get Doc Morton out here!" Rawlings ordered.

"Sure, Sheriff." Someone yelled and they heard the sound of running feet.

"Where's Angela?" Wilmington asked, standing and holding his bleeding arm as he searched the darkness for the second woman.

"Milt," Rawlings called the owner of the saloon.

"Right here, Sheriff!"

"Keep pressure on this!" Rawlins ordered as the older man knelt and pressed on the wound to Clark's shoulder. The lawman hurried inside the hotel and asked if any of the patrons had seen Angela Wilmington. No one had, but they began searching room by room, but with no success.

Outside the street was awash with activity as Richard Morton arrived with his bag. He knelt beside Rosemary Clark and checked the wound before handing the man a clean piece of material and moving to check on Wilmington.

"I'm fine, Doc," the gentle rogue lied as he motioned the doctor towards the travois.

"Who is this?" Morton asked, all business as he looked at the pale features and the washed out appearance of his face.

"His name's Chris Larabee, Doc. He's a good friend," Wilmington explained as Morton touched Larabee's forehead. "Thanks for f...finding him, Vin, Josiah."

"This man's in bad shape! We need to get him to my office right away. Gerald, bring me as much ice as you can find and I'll need whiskey too!"

"I'll bring it to your house!" Gerald Carlton answered and hurried away.

"Do you two think you can carry him to my place?" Morton asked of the newcomers.

"Just point us in the right direction," Sanchez ordered as they removed the Travois from Peso.

"I'll take care of yer horses!" the liveryman called as he picked up the reins.

"Any sign of her, Evan?" Wilmington asked as the sheriff rejoined them.

"Nothing," the man said and turned to several people who stood close by. "Jake, you and Martin pick Mrs. Clark up and put her in a cell until the doc can look at her."

"Sure thing, Sheriff," Martin agreed as they picked the woman up between them.

"All right, Turner, let's get you inside and locked up!" Rawlings warned as he pulled the man from the horse's back.

"Sheriff, thank God! It wasn't me did that ta him! It was Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington! I tried ta help!"

"I'm sure you did, Turner, but you might as well save it until the judge gets here!" Rawlings warned and escorted the man into the small jail.

---

"Put him on the bed over there and get rid of them blankets!" Morton ordered as he pulled the table closer to the bed and began preparing the instruments he thought he would need.

Josiah and Vin lifted the unconscious man onto the bed and winced as they took note of the fresh bleeding from both wounds. Larabee hadn't moved since being carried inside and the two men worried that it might be too late. They looked at the ladies' man as he sank into a chair on the opposite side of the bed.

"Jesus, Chris, wish I could've stopped that bitch!"

"Easy, Buck, he's got help now," Sanchez explained, accepting several strips of bandages from the physician and moved to care for Wilmington's arm.

"I'm okay, Josiah," the man mumbled softly.

"No, you're not, Buck. I have no idea what you've been through, but you need to realize whatever happened is not your fault!"

"Yes, this time it is! If I hadn't insisted on coming back here Chris'd be safe back home. Probably drinking whiskey at the saloon!"

"Maybe, but he chose ta come here with ya because he cares what happens ta ya, Buck..."

"B...Buck?"

Wilmington winced at the harsh sounding whisper and leaned close over the injured man as Larabee turned towards him. "Chris, Pard, I'm sorry!"

"D...don't...not f...fault."

"Mr. Larabee, I need you to lie still for me," Morton said as he began removing the bandage from Larabee's left side. He reached for the cloth that soaked in the mixture of water and carbolic and began cleaning the swollen area.

"Doc, anythin' I can do?" Tanner asked.

"Wash your hands and then take the bandage off his leg. I need to see how bad the wounds are!" Morton ordered.

"I can help..."

"Right now you need help, Mr. Wilmington," Morton warned and motioned for Sanchez to move the ladies' man out of the way.

"Don't think that's a real good plan right now, Doc," Sanchez said as he felt the younger man tense beneath his touch.

"All right, he can stay put, but I don't want you doing anything until I get a good look at that arm!"

"I'll see to it, Doc," the ex-preacher assured the physician and received a pale glare from the mustached man.

"Buck...okay?" Larabee asked.

"I'm fine, Chris," Wilmington tried to assure the blond as his friend groaned in pain.

"Chris, I'm going to give you a shot of morphine and then I want you to rest and let me take care of you."

"O...okay," the blond stammered tiredly. He felt the familiar sensation of a needle entering his arm and waited for the blissful release from pain it signaled.

---

Ezra had seen the newcomer's arrival, but before he could join them he'd noticed movement between the hotel and the building next door. He'd stayed back in the shadows even after hearing the gunshots and knew the shape was that of a woman. He followed until she reached the livery and entered to find her hastily trying to saddle a horse.

"I do not think that a hasty exit is in the cards today, Miss Tate," Standish warned as he released the mechanism that allowed the small gun to rest easily in his hand.

"Who the hell are you?" Tate asked as she sought out the figure bathed in darkness.

"My moniker would not be familiar to you, but suffice it to say I am extremely appalled at your treatment of my friends."

"Friends?"

"Correct. Mr. Larabee and Mr. Wilmington to be precise. Now kindly step away from the horse and place your hands over your head!" Standish warned.

"You have no right!"

"I beg to differ, Miss Tate..."

"My name is Mrs. Angela Wilmington and you have no right to stop me!"

"Wrong, Miss Tate. You gained that name through blackmail amongst other things and therefore you do not deserve the true worth of the Wilmington name. Now, I do not wish to argue further and beside, your incarceration in the Midfield jail is something I wish to witness."

"You won't get away with this!"

"Watch me," the gambler said with a grin as he motioned the woman ahead of him. They stepped into the street to find several people still milling about and Sheriff Rawlings explaining what was happening. He led her towards the gathered throng and smiled as the lawman moved towards them.

"Where did you find her?"

"Miss Tate was about to make a hasty exit, but I persuaded her she should stay and face the consequences of her actions."

"I did nothing wrong," the woman protested and turned to the people she lived amongst. "You all know me and you know I'd never hurt anyone."

"Sorry, Angela, but no one is going to believe that after seeing Chris Larabee."

"Buck's friend? You found him?" Tate asked as if she truly cared about the man's welfare.

"Yes, Buck's friends are here and they followed Turner..."

"I'll kill that sonofabitch!" she cursed and realized she'd spoken aloud.

"Sheriff, I'd like to check on Mr. Larabee's condition," Standish said in disgust.

"You go ahead, Ezra. I'll lock this one up and she can take care of her friend while she's in there," Rawlings explained.

"What happened to Rosie?" Tate asked worriedly.

"She was shot while trying to make you a widow. Ezra, doc's house is at the end of town," Rawlings said as he grabbed the woman's arm and dragged her towards the jail.

Ezra turned away and headed towards the house in question as people mulled about still trying to make sense of what had happened. He pushed open the gate and hurried up to the partially open door.

"Hello."

"Ezra, we're in here!" Tanner called and nodded to the gambler as he entered.

"Mr. Wilmington, I wished to inform you of Angela Tate's incarceration."

"You found her?" Wilmington asked, watching as the physician finished draining bloodied discharge from Larabee's side.

"Indeed. She was trying to leave, but I followed her and turned her over to Sheriff Rawlings," Standish explained.

"Thank God," the gentle rogue said and sagged as the laudanum laced drink he'd been given worked its magic and he lost consciousness.

"About time. Put him in the bed by the window!" Morton ordered. He watched as Sanchez and Standish lifted the big man between them and carried him to the bed. Shaking his head at the stubbornness exhibited by the injured man and wondered at the bond of friendship he was witnessing.

"Doc, will he be all right?" Tanner asked.

"He'll be fine. Josiah cleaned the wound and I'll take a closer look as soon as I finish with Chris," the physician answered.

"What about Chris?" the Texan asked.

"I'll do all I can for him, but you need to know he's in bad shape. Aside from the bullet wounds he has a broken arm and more bruises than I can count. I know he's had one blow to the head and God only knows what kind of damage that caused."

"Chris is just as stubborn as Buck," Sanchez observed as he straightened the blanket over the mustached man.

"Then he's got that going for him." Morton finished placing a new bandage over Larabee's side and turned his attention to the wound in his right thigh. Again he drained and cleaned the wound before placing a new bandage over it.

"What about his fever?" Tanner asked.

"Gerald should be here anytime with the ice!" Morton answered. "We'll also keep wiping him down and hopefully keeping his wounds clean will also help bring the fever down. I'll need all of you to help make sure he's kept cool and make sure he's drinking when he does wake up. I'll have several different teas brewing and they'll help with pain and fever! I'll also talk with Miss Collins about making broth for him."

"Thanks, Doc," Sanchez said as the door opened and several men walked in carrying buckets.

"Figured ya'd need this stuff chipped off," Carlton said as he placed a bucket beside the bed.

"Thanks, Gerald, this is perfect. Vin, Josiah, I need you two to start putting some ice in the towels and pack them around Chris. Ezra, bring me a basin of clean water while I check on Buck!"

"Certainly, doctor," Standish said and hurried to carry out the physician's orders.

Morton removed the bandage from Wilmington's arm and winced at the raw wound underneath. It would take several stitches to close it and the man would need a sling for a few days, but he should regain total use of his arm if he took care of it. He turned to see Sanchez and Tanner placing the towels around Larabee's body and hoped this action would help bring down the fever.

---

Through the long night the men continued to care for the injured men, changing the towels and putting fresh ice in them as Larabee's fever raged. Wilmington continued to sleep through the activity as the draught he'd been given continued to hold him in a deep sleep. Morton had retired for the night once he knew the three men would care for their friends.

Josiah knew they had to get a message back to Four Corners and let Nathan and JD know what was happening. He turned towards the door as it opened and the sheriff entered the room.

"How are they?" Rawlings asked.

"Buck's still sleeping, but he should be waking up anytime," the ex-preacher answered.

"Chris?"

"No change. Fever's still sappin' his strength!" Tanner answered from where he sat beside the injured blond.

"I had Lottie at the hotel contact Judge Travis about the prisoners. Told her one of you boys might be over later to send a message to Four Corners," the sheriff explained.

"Thanks, Evan," Sanchez said.

"You boys should hear Turner."

"What's he up ta?" the Texan asked.

"He's tellin' everyone what those two did and says he's willing to tell the Judge as soon as he gets here."

"When will Travis get here?"

"He's in Eagle Bend this week so I'm expecting him to get back to me later today. Hopefully he'll be able to clear his slate and get here by the end of the week or beginning of next. I'd rather get this over with as quickly as possible."

"Sounds like a plan," the ex-preacher told him as a sound escaped from the blond.

"Easy, Cowboy, just lie still," Tanner warned as he held the blond's hand. Even with the ice the fever still had a tight grip on the injured man.

"H...hap...happened?"

"You got yerself hurt, but doc says ya'll be fine if'n we can keep ya drinkin'," the Texan explained.

"H...horse p...piss," Larabee groaned.

"Pro'bly," Tanner said with a grin as Richard Morton entered the room.

"Well, it's good to see you awake, Chris. How are you feeling?"

"Hot...cold...not sure," the blond answered tiredly.

"That's probably because of the fever and the ice. Vin, did you get him something to drink?"

"Josiah's getting it now," Tanner said as the ex-preacher returned to the bed.

"Bring him some water too," the physician ordered as the Texan lifted Larabee's head and he fed him the Willow Bark tea. They managed to get the patient to drink most of the tea and some of the broth sent over by Martha Collins.

Chris knew they were trying to help him, but he was in too much pain to acknowledge them for now. He felt himself losing touch with reality as he sipped the small amount of water in the cup. Energy spent, Chris closed his eyes and slept once more.

---

Josiah straightened his back as he made his way towards the hotel. He needed to send a telegram to Four Corners and let Nathan and JD know what was happening. Buck was still sleeping, due to exhaustion more than anything else. Chris had awakened several times during the long night, but never seemed to be fully with them. He pushed open the door and spotted a matronly woman standing behind the desk.

"Miss Lottie?"

"That would be me. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I'd like to send a telegram to Four Corners," Sanchez answered.

"Very well. What do you want it to say?"

"Chris and Buck found. Chris hurt bad. Town doc says he should be okay. Sanchez."

"Very good. I'll send it now and let you know when I hear back from them," Lottie told him.

"Thank you, Ma'am," the ex-preacher said, tipping his hat before heading back towards the physician's residence. He nodded to several townspeople that he recognized and answered their queries about Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee. As he pushed open the doctor's door he heard the familiar voice of their resident ladies' man.

"Vin, I said I'm fine!"

"Doc says ya need ta rest!"

"I will..."

"Good, glad that's settled!"

"No, it's not! Damn it!"

"Is there a problem?" Sanchez asked as he looked at the two men.

"No!"

"Yes," Tanner corrected.

"What's wrong?"

"Mr. Wilmington wishes to pay a visit to the woman who claims to be his beloved wife, while Mr. Tanner insists that he should wait!" Ezra explained from his position next to Larabee's bed. He was leaning back on the chair with his legs stretched out and resting on the windowsill. A soft breeze wafted through the partially open window and he smiled at the newcomer.

"Buck, you sure you're up to seeing Angela?" Sanchez asked.

"I'm sure, Josiah. I need to do this!"

"All right, but I'll come along and make sure..."

"I don't need protection!"

"I know you don't, but can you guarantee that you won't strangle her if you get the chance?" the older man asked.

"No...no I can't," Wilmington told them as he ran his fingers through disheveled hair. He turned his gaze on the unconscious gunslinger and marked in his mind each and every wound on the man's body. If given the chance he knew he could easily strangle the woman who had professed to love him and would die a happy man having done so.

"I guess that mean you need an escort," Sanchez said and saw the quick nod of the dark head. He watched as Wilmington made his way to Larabee's bed and placed his hand on the blonds' right shoulder. The heat he felt emanating from the injured man scared him and he knew they would continue to pack the ice around him in an effort to get the fever under control. "Hang on, Pard, 'cause I ain't gonna let her away with what they did to you."

Sanchez heard the softly spoken vow and waited for the gentle rogue to join him. Together they walked out of the doctor's office and down the street to the jail. The sun had gone behind a cloud, but the heat was still rising with the approach of noon. He pushed open the door and allowed Wilmington to enter before him and nodded a greeting to the sheriff.

"How are you feeling, Buck?" Rawlings asked.

"Better. Came to see Angela."

"Are you sure about that, Buck?" Rawlings asked and knew his long time friend was indeed serious about going to see his wife.

"Yeah, I need to make sure she knows how much I ha...hate her," the ladies' man spat venomously.

"I'll stay with him, Evan," Sanchez assured the lawman.

"All right," Rawlings agreed and threw the keys to the older man. He watched as Wilmington waited anxiously for the door to open and knew his friend was tormented by what had happened.

Buck slipped inside before the door was fully open and locked gazes with the woman who was legally his wife. He walked the short distance to the bars and stood for several long seconds before finally speaking to her.

"I thought I knew you, Angela."

"You did, Buck. I love you."

"Love? No, I don't think you even know the meaning of the word."

"How can you say that, Buck? Didn't you feel anything when I touched you? When I kissed you?"

"Yes, I did. I felt dead, Angela! You made me betray who I am and your kiss was a kiss of death. It killed everything I ever felt for you!"

"Buck, please, I did it for you...for us..."

"There is no us...never was, Angela. You killed it..."

"NO! Don't you say that! I love you, Buck!"

"Funny way of showing it," Wilmington said as Rosemary Clark opened her eyes and stared at him.

"She isn't to blame, Buck. She loves you more than you'll ever know and this is how you repay her!"

"Oh, Lady, you ain't seen nothing yet!" Wilmington vowed as he grabbed the bars. "I'm going to watch the two of you hang for murder and attempted murder!"

"You can't prove anything!" Angela screamed.

"I can prove what I saw you do and that you ordered Turner to break Chris's arm and guess what? Turner will back me up on that!"

"Turner's a weasel!" Clark spat.

"That may be, but with mine and Chris's testimony neither one of you will be able to talk your way out of it! Judge Travis should be here sometime next week and I'm going to stand there and watch them take you away!" Wilmington smiled as he glanced from one woman to the other.

"You bastard, Buck!" Angela cried as she ran at the bars and reached through them before the man could react.

Wilmington felt her nails rake across his cheek and grabbed her wrists in a vice like grip. He smiled and used her hand to wipe away the blood and then shoved her roughly backwards. She stumbled and would have fallen if not for Rosemary Clark's quick reaction. He smiled, but there was no humor in it as he stared at the two women.

"You reap what you sow, Angela," Wilmington said and turned away from the women. "Let's go, Josiah. The smell in here is turning my stomach."

"As you wish, Buck," Sanchez said, holding the door and closing it behind them as Angela Tate screamed in outrage.

"Everything okay?" Rawlings asked as Sanchez threw the keys to him.

"Everything's just fucking fine!" Wilmington spat. "Josiah, I need a drink!"

"Come on, Buck, I'll buy you a steak dinner and you can buy me a drink!" Sanchez nodded to the sheriff before following the ladies' man through the door. A stiff breeze had picked up, but it did little to dispel the heat of the day.

---

"JD, I have a telegram for you from Josiah," Gloria Potter called after the young sheriff. She handed him the slip of paper and watched as he read it.

"Thanks, Mrs. Potter. I need to show this to Nathan. Have you seen him around?"

"I saw him go up to his clinic a few minutes ago," the older woman answered and watched as the young man raced toward the livery.

---

Nathan heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs and opened the door just as the whirlwind known as JD Dunne stepped onto the landing. He smiled at the youth, but quickly read the worry in his eyes as the younger man handed him a piece of paper.

Chris and Buck found. Chris hurt bad. Town doc says he should be okay. Sanchez.

"Damn, I should have gone with them."

"You were needed here, Nate," Dunne said, smiling as he remembered the sound of a baby's first cry. The birth hadn't been difficult, but the woman seemed more relaxed knowing Jackson was on hand.

"Thanks, JD, still don't make it no easier."

"I know, but at least there's a doctor in Midfield!"

"Yeah, that's one piece of good news."

"Are you going out to see Rain today?"

"I was thinkin' on it, but..."

"There's nothing you can do, Nate. I'll send someone out to the village if you're needed or there's more news," Dunne assured the healer. He knew the man would worry about Larabee no matter what, but at least this way he would have something to occupy his time.

"Thanks, JD, think I might just take ya up on that. Besides I need to check Rain's cousin and make sure her arm is healing properly," Jackson said and turned his attention to the trip ahead of him.

---

The next few days passed slowly as the friends tried to stave off the fever sapping the blond's strength. Chris would wake up and at times seemed lucid and awake, while at other times he'd fight those who tried to help him. He screamed for his deceased family and cursed Ella Gaines to her grave and beyond as his body arched on the bed. He languished in the throes of nightmares that only he could see until the sun rose above the horizon on the forth day since he'd been found. Sea green eyes opened and looked into the worried blue ones set in the face of his long time friend.

"Chris?" Wilmington whispered the word hopefully.

"Buck? Hap...happened?"

"Is he awake, Buck?"

"Sure is, Vin. Get the doc!"

"Hey, Cowboy, I'll be right back."

"Not a cow...boy," the blond rasped as Wilmington lifted his head and allowed him to take several small sips of water.

"How are you feeling, Chris?" the ladies' man asked with a tired grin.

"Don't know. Sick...hurts to move."

"I bet it does. Try not to move around too much right now," Wilmington ordered as he lowered the sweat soaked blond head back to the bed. He stared into the eyes he knew so well and saw the true depth of the man's pain. "I'm sorry, Chris."

"G...get that l...look off your face, Buck. N...none of this is your f...fault."

"Yes, it is, Chris, but I swear they'll pay for what they've done. So help me God I'll see to it myself if I have to!"

"N...no. Pro...promise me won't d...do anything s...stupid!"

"I can't promise you that right now, Chris. Ask me again after the trial," Wilmington said softly.

"P...please, Buck, N...need to know y...you'll be there..."

"I c...can't. Not now," the gentle rogue told him as the door opened and several people entered the room.

"I hear my patient is awake," Morton said and took the chair vacated by Buck Wilmington. "Good morning, Chris."

"Who...you?" Larabee frowned as he looked at the newcomer.

"My name is Richard Morton and I'm what passes for a doctor in these parts. Now I'm going to take a look at you and then see about getting you some broth. How are you feeling?"

"Hopefully not as bad as they look," Larabee said and motioned with his head towards his friends.

"Well they come by it honestly," Morton said, taking out his stethoscope and listening to his patient's chest. "They've spent every waking moment sitting with you. Take a deep breath!"

"Damn!" the blond cursed as he coughed harshly.

"Here, drink this!" Morton ordered and held Larabee's head while Wilmington fed him the water.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Your chest doesn't sound clear right now, but that's to be expected with you lying around like this. As soon as you're up to it we'll see about getting you out of that bed and sitting up in a chair for a spell."

"Ready...up now," the blond tried, but the soft laughter told him that was not to be the case as yet.

"I don't think so, Son. It'll be at least another full day before we even attempt to get you up!" Morton warned.

Chris smiled in spite of the renewed pain in his side and leg as the physician continued with his examination. He drank what they gave him and knew one of the liquids had been laced with laudanum as his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted toward sleep.

"How is he, Doc?" Tanner asked.

"His fever's broke, but that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet," Morton explained as he turned to face Larabee's friends. "He needs to take it easy and give his body the time it needs to heal!"

"Chris ain't one ta be patient," the Texan observed.

"Don't expect he is, but you boys are gonna need to make sure he does as he's told!"

"Damn, give us something easy why don't you?" Wilmington asked and heard the others chuckle.

"Buck, we'll sit on him if we have to," Sanchez said.

"Just make sure you don't sit anywhere that he's hurt!" Morton warned.

"Damn, guess that don't leave much!" Tanner said seriously as he looked at the sleeping man. The colorful array of bruises had spread and covered much of the surface area until Larabee looked as if he'd been put through hell and Vin took a deep breath as he realized that was as close to the truth as anything.

"Like I told you boys his fever has broken, now comes the real chore of getting him back on his feet," Morton explained.

"We'll do whatever it takes, Doc," Wilmington assured him.

"Good. First thing you have to do, Buck, is put that damn sling back on and quit acting like there's nothing wrong with you! I may not know you very well, but I'm sure your friends here know when you're hiding something. Now quit acting like you're a hundred percent and get some rest or I'll just slip you a little something to make sure you do!" the physician promised.

"Mr. Wilmington, I do believe he sees right through your valiant charade," Standish said, smiling as he pointed to the little used bed at the opposite side of the room.

"I'm not tired," the ladies' man said.

"That so? Then perhaps you wouldn't mind letting one of your friends force you into bed. I don't think it would take much right now. What do you boys think?"

"A soft breeze would probably do the trick," Tanner observed and watched as the defeated ladies' man made his way to the bed and sank down onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.

"Well, Hallelujah!" Sanchez said and earned himself a baleful glare from the injured man.

"Now, Gentlemen, I want you all to get some rest. If Chris is anything like the rest of you I may just have to take you up on the idea of sitting on him," Morton said as he finished his examination and sat back.

"You heard him, Boys. Ezra, I believe you have the funds to procure our next feast," Sanchez said with a toothy grin.

"Why is it whenever we are in search of a repast I seem to be the only one with funds available?"

"Well, Son, it's probably because the good lord saw fit to bless you with quick hands and the ability to know who you're playing against," the ex-preacher observed.

"Yes, that is true, but..."

"Come on, Ez. We don't get movin' and ya'll have ta cheat some more in order ta pay for it," Tanner said.

"I do not need to cheat in order to win!" Standish stated as they exited the room.

Morton shook his head at the antics of the trio who'd just left. He turned toward the man lying in the other bed and saw that he was up on his elbow and watching the sleeping blond. The guilt on the rogue's face was evident as the blue eyes sparkled with unshed moisture.

"Doc, he is going to be all right, isn't he?"

"As long as we keep him from doing anything stupid he'll do fine. That goes for you as well, Buck. I've been watching you and I know you're not sleeping, so, I am going to get Martha Collins to mix one of her herb teas. I think once you drink that you'll find it easier to sleep and once you wake up I might even let you sit with Chris for a while."

"Okay," the ladies' mans easily agreed and laid back against the pillow.

Morton looked from one man to the other and was again taken aback by the depth of friendship these men felt for each other. Touching his hand against Larabee's cheek he was relieved to find it cool to the touch.

"You're one lucky man, Chris Larabee," he whispered and used the cloth to wash over the man's face before standing and stretching the kinks from his back.

---

Angela Tate-Wilmington grew angrier with each passing minute. Rosemary Clark was fairly well recovered from the minor wound she'd received and at present was sleeping on one of the small cots. The red head stared at the man sleeping on the cot in the next cell and silently cursed the traitorous sonofabitch. No matter how much she threatened him, no matter how many ways Rosemary told him they could chop him into little pieces, Ethan Turner refused to listen.

"Don't worry, Angela, things will work out," Rosemary had assured her more than once in the last week, but as she heard the approach of the stage she knew things were about to get worse. She moved to the side of the jail and tried to see out into the dusty alley, but even on her toes she could not reach the bottom of the window.

"Damn it!" she cursed and sat spitefully on her cot as she awaited word on her fate.

---

Orrin Travis was hot and tired and was glad he'd been the only passenger since leaving Eagle Bend. He'd been thinking about the last telegram he'd received from Sheriff Evan Rawlings and was worried about one of his peacekeepers.

According to the message, Chris Larabee had been shot twice, had a broken arm and several bruised or cracked ribs, plus several stitches to a wound above his right eye. Travis hated that one of the men he'd hired and respected had been seriously injured, but his distaste grew as soon as he'd read that two of the three people charged were women. It would be hard to get a conviction because men seemed to shy away from the idea of hanging a woman, but if everything he heard was true they deserved to be strung up from the nearest branch. As the Stage drew to a stop in front of the hotel, Travis leaned out the window and quickly spotted several familiar figures. He quickly stepped down and waited for his bag, not at all surprised when the lanky Texan grabbed the piece of luggage and carried it toward the hotel.

"How is Chris?" the judge asked.

"He seems better today. Dr. Morton says if he continues to improve he might just let him sit a spell tomorrow," Sanchez explained.

"As long as he doesn't overdo things," Travis said. "I'd like to see him as soon as I'm checked in."

"I would be honored to take care of registering you, Judge Travis," Standish said.

"Thank you, Ezra. Tell Lottie I said to put it on my tab," Travis told the gambler and headed towards the physician's house at the edge of town. He'd been there several times in the past, taking statements and getting the full story on a supposed crime. He knocked on the door and hurried inside when a male voice bid him enter. "How is he, Richard?"

Chris had been resting his eyes, but opened them at the familiar voice. "Hello, Judge."

"Hello, Chris, I hope you're not giving Dr. Morton any problems."

"He's being real good, Judge," Wilmington said from his seat at the small table.

"Shut up, Buck," the blond groaned. "How are Billy and Mary doing?"

"Billy is doing very well in school and is excited that his mother is staying with Evie for a month. He's really come out of his shell since his father's killers were brought to justice."

"He's a good kid. Didn't deserve what happened to him."

"You saved his life, Chris, and I'm forever in your debt. That goes for all of you," Travis said. "Now, how do you feel about telling me what happened?"

"I..."

"Orrin, does this have to be done right now?" Morton interrupted.

"The sooner the better, Richard. I'd like to know where we stand on all issues. We all know how hard it is to see someone hung and it's especially hard when it comes to a woman...two women," Travis said.

"That may very well be, but right now Chris needs his rest. When are you setting the trial for?"

"Tomorrow morning if Gerald will allow us use of his saloon," Travis answered.

"I don't think Gerald will stop you from using his place. Now why don't you and I go speak with him and let my patient get the rest he needs?" Morton suggested.

"All right," the judge said and turned to Larabee. "Chris, get some rest. I'll speak with you before the trial starts tomorrow."

"I want to be there!" the blond stated, shocking everyone present.

"Chris, you can't be serious!" Wilmington stated.

"I'm sorry, Chris, but I don't think you're strong enough to be out of bed that long!"

"I need to be there! Need to make damn sure they don't get away with any of this. Did anyone telegram St. Louis to see if their stories were true?"

"Evan sent out several telegrams yesterday, but there's been no answer yet," Wilmington explained.

"Chris, I'm not gonna say yes to you being there tomorrow, but I'm not saying no either. If, and this is a big if, you get plenty of rest tonight and there's no sign of fever in the morning, then maybe we can arrange for you to be present during the trial. However, there is something I want from you."

"Anything, Doc," Larabee stated tiredly.

"I want your promise that when I say you've had enough then you'll come back here without an argument. Got that?'

"I got it," the blond said with a small grin and a heavy sigh as he turned towards his long time friend. "I just need to make sure they can't hurt you anymore, Buck."

"Hell, Chris, wasn't me they hurt," Wilmington stated.

"Look in the mirror and say that, Buck. A blind man could see the pain in your eyes."

"Chris..."

"No Buck, don't say it. Just know this and mark my words. You have nothing to feel guilty about and I'll damn well kick your ass if you don't smarten up!"

"He's right, Brother, you did nothing to be ashamed of," Sanchez assured him.

"Buck, may not kick...kick your ass right n...now, but will soon," the blond said and gave in to the siren call of sleep.

---

Orrin looked at the two women, both so beautiful, yet as deadly as a rabid wolf searching for prey. The two women refused to acknowledge his presence, but Ethan Turner was more than willing to share details about what they'd paid him to do. He swore he had nothing to do with any murders, but was guilty of kidnapping and forcible confinement with intent to injure. Gerald Carlton had readily agreed to have the trial held at the saloon and with the help of several townsmen, plus Sanchez, Tanner, and Standish was already setting it up for the trial.

"Mrs. Clark, you do realize these charges are very serious?" Travis asked, and was again met by a wall of silence. Shaking his head he turned away from the cell and walked out into the sheriff's office once more.

"They still on a vow of silence?" Rawlings asked.

"I don't think they realize just how much trouble they are in," Travis said, shaking his head as he sat across from the lawman.

"They know and I think they just might be able to wrap some of the men in this town around their fingers. No matter what happens tomorrow there are at least four men who will be dead set against hanging women!"

"You may want to deputize a few men or use Josiah, Ezra, and Vin to help control the hot heads," the judge suggested.

"I'd be grateful for all the help I can get," Rawlings said as the door burst open and a man walked inside.

"Sheriff, tell me you're not going to let this farce of a trial happen!"

"Judge, do you remember our mayor," Rawlings asked.

"Indeed I do. Hello, John."

"Hello, Orrin. Please tell me you won't be holding a trial in Midfield."

"I'm sorry, but I will be holding a trial and I believe it to be in the best interests of the town if you show the court the respect it is due."

"But you're talking about putting two women on trial for attempted murder..."

"Actually, after the telegram I received today they'll be facing charges of murder as well," Rawlings explained.

"You know, John, there's something wrong with your attitude," Travis said, his voice laced with deadly force.

"What are you talking about, Orrin?"

"Are you forgetting there's a man on trial here for the same charges, and yet you don't give a damn about what he's facing!"

"But...but they are women and have been a good part of this town since they moved here!" the mayor fumed.

"That may very well be, but think about what they've done and if that's not enough then come over to Morton's office and take a good look at what they did to Chris Larabee!" Travis raged.

"He's a lawman and should be used to getting hurt in situations like this!"

"John, Chris Larabee was shot twice and had his arm broken because those two women thought they could control another man's life. He deserves to see justice done!"

"Not in my town!"

"Then perhaps it's time you stood down and let us elect a man with a lick of sense!" Rawlings stated and stood up.

"Easy, Evan," Travis said and turned to the town's mayor. "John, I am sworn to uphold the law and that means the trial will go forth tomorrow. If you don't like it then I suggest you take a trip for a few days. Perhaps your twisted judgment will find a way to live with what you've been saying here!"

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"I just did! Evan, it stinks in here and I need to get some rest before the trial tomorrow morning!"

"Orrin, I apologize for the mayor's behavior," Rawlings said and smiled as the man huffed and shot out the door. He shook his head and watched as Travis followed suit and was glad the judge had been able to get the upper hand with the town's mayor.

---

The saloon was packed with men waiting to find out the outcome of the trial, but the three defendants had yet to make an appearance. Several of the older men were trying to cajole Gerald Carlton into opening the bar and let them have a libation, but with no success as the saloon owner shook his head and pointed to the sign proclaiming BAR CLOSED FOR DURATION!

"So when's this trial supposed ta start," Peter Frost asked, licking dry lips hopefully.

"Soon's the judge says it does!" Carlton assured him and motioned for one of the lawmen to come forward.

"What can I do fer ya?" Tanner asked, leaning against the bar.

"The crowd's getting a little out of hand. Any idea when the judge is gonna get here?"

"Should be here as soon as they bring Chris over," the lanky Texan answered.

"Well, I hope it's soon!" Frost told him and watched as several men began a shoving match at the rear of the saloon.

"Ya boys wanna stick 'round ya'd best sit down and shut up!" Tanner warned and nodded as Standish joined him.

"Josiah and Buck are bringing Chris over now," Standish informed the younger man.

"Good, 'cause much longer and we might have ta shoot a couple of trouble makers," the Texan said and saw Frost break away from the counter, a look of fearful indignation on his face.

---

"Now, Chris, no one will think anything bad of you if you just stay put!" Wilmington tried once more. They'd managed to get the stubborn blond into a pair of pants by slitting up the seam and making room for the bandages around his leg. An oversized shirt was draped over his shoulders and buttoned up the front. There was a new light in the gunslinger's eyes today since they'd found Pony safe and sound and he was now housed in the livery, and being fed and cared for by the liveryman.

"I'm going!"

"Stubborn sonofabitch!" the ladies' man cursed as Sanchez returned.

"I take it you're still hell bent on going to the trial?" the ex-preacher asked.

"Hell yeah!" Larabee answered and knew the doctor was still shaking his head as he returned to his position next to the bed where his patient sat.

"All right, Chris, I'm agreeing to this against my better judgment, so here's how we're going to do this. Buck and Josiah are going to walk beside you and if I see anything I don't like I'm calling a halt to it. Understood?"

"I hear you, Doc," Larabee said, glaring at his two friends.

"Good!" Morton said, giving his patient another once over before turning to Wilmington and Sanchez. "All right, gentlemen, here's how this goes. Buck, you're on his right, Josiah, you're on his left. I'm going to walk behind Chris and make sure 'Mr. Hard Head' here doesn't fall on his hard..."

"Shit!" the blond spat as he tried to stand on his own.

"That's lesson number one, Chris. You're weak and you need to let us help you with everything for now," Morton warned as Sanchez and Wilmington moved in to help the injured blond to his feet.

"Thanks," Larabee said as the ladies' man plunked his hat on his head. He concentrated on staying on his feet and forced his legs to move, groaning as the movement pulled on his injured leg.

"Ah, Chris, take this," Morton said, handing the man a cane.

"I don't..."

"If you plan on walking to the trial you do, or Josiah and Buck can carry you!" the physician warned.

"Damn!" Larabee swore and reached for the item in Morton's hand. He used it and reluctantly acknowledged the need for the cane. Using what little strength he had the gunman slowly made his way toward the door. He felt his two friends walking close beside him, but everything he had, and everything he was, he was putting into this one trip. He would make it to the saloon under his own steam or die trying.

Buck watched as Larabee's stubborn pride worked to give him the strength he needed to persevere and smiled inwardly at the strength generated by the blond. No matter how beaten he was, no matter how hard the fight could be, in the end, Chris Larabee would win. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to and that was a strength few men had.

Josiah watched over both friends and knew Wilmington was putting on a brave face. The man was hiding a pain that ran deep and a guilt that was just as fierce. It would take seeing Chris Larabee completely recovered and back on his feet to see the light hearted rogue back to himself. Sighing, the ex-preacher remained steadfast next to the blond and could see how difficult each step was.

Richard Morton could not believe that his patient had made it out the door let alone half way down the street. Something told him that Chris Larabee would and could do just about anything he set his mind to do. They made it to the saloon, but not without incident as Larabee stumbled several times, but refused help as he straightened himself with the use of the cane.

Chris looked at the two steps that lead up to the batwing doors and took a deep breath. He could hear the people inside and knew the saloon had probably never been so packed during regular hours. People had this morbid need to see what was happening and he knew they would probably have to deal with several troublemakers. The fact that the trial involved two women made it more like a circus than a courtroom, but Chris knew Orrin Travis would make sure things ran smoothly no matter what it took.

"Chris..."

"I'm okay, Buck," Larabee insisted and found the strength to lift his right leg and put all his weight on the cane. He heard Ezra and Vin, but didn't acknowledge either man as he made it to the top.

"Mr. Larabee, your color...or lack thereof is suggestive..."

"Ez, not now! Tell me you boys have a place for me to sit down!"

"Got a seat front and center fer ya, Cowboy," Tanner told him and held the door as the group moved into the dim interior. Between the four peacekeepers they managed to keep the town's men at a distance and give Larabee a clear aisle to the chair reserved for him. By the time the blond was seated he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his face had a washed out quality to it. He didn't know who it was, but someone handed him a glass of water and he drank it slowly.

"Chris, the judge is about to come in and Evan is bringing over the prisoners," Sanchez explained as he watched the younger man's face closely.

"Okay," Larabee nodded as the men took up places around the courtroom. Besides, Sanchez, Standish, Wilmington, Tanner, and Rawlings there were four other men who'd been sworn in to help keep the trial orderly.

"Chris, you need anything don't hesitate to say so," Morton said as he sat beside his patient.

"But they're women!" one man shouted and the outrage was picked up by others as Travis took his seat.

"Order! I will have order in this court or I'll have you all barred from the proceedings!" the judge warned and the crowd grew quiet as Rawlings and Tanner led the three prisoners to the defendants' table. Mark Lewis stood as the trio were brought to him and knew his case was lost before it even began. Ethan Turner was only too glad to make his statement and the evidence against the women was damning.

"This court is now in session and I'm warning all of you that any transgressions will get you a contempt charge and you'll find yourselves as guests in the town's jail. Now the defendants are facing several charges of kidnapping, assault and attempted murder. How do your clients plea, Mr. Lewis?"

"Your honor, Mrs. Clark, and Mrs. Wilmington have refused to answer that question. Mr. Turner has pleaded guilty to kidnapping and assault," Lewis explained.

"All right, we can resolve Mr. Turner's case easily and proceed with the charges against Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington," Travis said as he watched Chris Larabee closely. The injured man was listing slowly to the right and was soon propped up by Buck Wilmington. He quickly pronounced Turner's sentence and had him removed from the courtroom until such time when he would be needed for testimony.

"Chris, why don't we get you back to bed," Morton suggested, but saw the stubborn set of Larabee's jaw.

"I'm f...fine, Doc, need to be h...here!"

"No you don't, Pard, I can testify to what they did to you," Wilmington tried.

"Buck, I want to see this through...for me," the blond said, but knew the ladies' man could see right through him.

"All right, ol' son," Wilmington agreed softly and looked toward the judge once more as he finished calling him to the stand. It had been decided that the ladies would have a bench trial without a jury and it would be up to Travis whether or not the women were guilty or innocent and whether they would face further charges once they heard from St. Louis. Buck nodded to the blond and walked to the front of the saloon and took the witness stand where he was sworn in.

"Mr. Wilmington, do you swear to tell the..."

Buck's eyes locked on to the green ones he once thought he could lose himself in. Now all he felt was disgust, that this woman had hurt not only him, but also a man he had considered to be his best friend for many years.

"Yes," the rogue answered as he tore his gaze from the woman.

Angela Tate-Wilmington could not believe that this man was going to bring her down. There was no doubt that his words would see Rosemary Clark found guilty and she turned in her seat until she spotted Chris Larabee. He would also testify to her wrongdoings and see her either faced with a life in prison or the hangman's noose.

'I'll kill you first,' she thought as she glanced at the two men closest to her. She recognized them from the town and knew them to be honest and law abiding, which was probably why Rawlings had chosen them. She heard her husband testify as to what he'd seen and been forced to do in order to save Chris Larabee's life and knew she had to see her plans through to the end, Larabee's end. Turning toward the man closest to her she judged the distance and knew she could get the man's gun, but could she get a shot away before someone reached her.

"Angela, what are you thinking?" Rosemary Clark asked softly.

"He's going to pay for this!"

"Who?" Clark whispered and frowned as their lawyer continued to ask questions of Wilmington.

"Larabee! Just look at that bastard!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I need you to get their attention, but wait until Larabee is called to the witness stand," the red head said and knew Clark understood what she meant. As the lawyer continued his questioning of Buck Wilmington, most of the men's attention was focused on the witness stand and they were not watching her.

"You know this will go against us?"

"I know, but what difference will it make?" She saw the smile on Clark's face and knew the woman would do what was needed. She settled back in her chair and smiled sweetly at the ladies' man.

Chris had not missed the woman's backward glance at him, and wondered why he suddenly felt so damn cold. He shifted on the seat as Travis dismissed Wilmington from the stand.

"Mr. Larabee, are you able to take the stand at this time?" Travis asked.

"Chris, it can wait," Tanner stated.

"No, it can't. Faster them two are sentenced the better," Larabee stated and sat up straighter in the chair.

"Mr. Larabee?"

"I'm fine, Judge," the blond said, but was glad when the Texan offered his arm and helped him to his feet.

---

Angela smiled as Larabee stood on shaky legs and began the slow walk towards the chair reserved for witnesses. She nodded to Clark as the blond walked past her and heard Rosemary's sharp intake of breath and several outraged cries as the woman fainted. Before anyone could realize it was an act, Angela reached for the weapon in the deputy's holster and pointed it toward the blond. Several shots rang out as the outraged alarm turned into fear and unarmed men hurried to find cover.

Buck had just stepped away from the chair when Rosemary Clark seemed to faint, but his well-honed instincts told him it was far from real. He turned his attention to the second woman just in time to see her level a gun at Larabee. He drew and fired in one motion and watched as a look of disbelief shone on his wife's face just before she looked down at the blossoming red stain on her bodice.

"B...Buck," she stammered and turned her weapon toward her husband as another shot rang out. Ezra's weapon had slid into his hand with an accuracy born of practice and desperation. He had pulled back on the trigger and watched as Angela Tate-Wilmington crumpled to the floor in a heap.

"NO!" Rosemary Clark was on her feet in and instant and grabbing for the weapon in Rawlings' holster, but was quickly grabbed by a nearly hysterical John Matthews. "Let me go! He murdered her!"

"Someone get Doc Morton!" Tanner shouted as they eased Chris Larabee to the floor.

"Vin, is he all right?" Wilmington shouted and was soon joined by Orrin Travis as the rest of the deputies emptied the courtroom.

"I don't know! He's bleeding!"

"Let me through!" Morton ordered and looked first at the dead woman and then at his patient. "Where's he hit this time?"

"N...not," Larabee stammered.

"I think he's just bleeding because I shoved him! The woman had him dead to rights!" Samuel Duff explained.

"You're not hit?" Wilmington asked, his eyes showing a mixture of concern and hope.

"No, just knocked the wind outta me!"

"Did more than that, Chris. Think maybe it opened up the wound in your side. Be still now and let me take a look."

"Buck...Angela?"

"She's dead," the ladies' man answered as he watched Sanchez place his coat over the dead woman's face.

"You murdered her! You bastards are gonna pay!" Rosemary Clark struggled against the sheriff and the mayor as they dragged her out of the courtroom.

"Doc, how does it look?" the ladies' man asked.

"Like I said, the banging around opened the wound. It's a setback, but not so bad as having another piece of lead in him!"

"Thanks, Mister..."

"Samuel Duff. Folks 'round here call me Duff. Ain't nothin' ta thank me for. I saw her grab the gun and look at ya and I had ta do somethin' real quick."

"You saved m...my life..."

"Chris, you can thank him later. Buck, Vin, we need to get him back to my place. Think you boys could carry him?"

"I can..."

"Lie there and be quiet!" Travis ordered and watched the physician as he pressed a piece of material against the bleeding wound.

"Nothing more I can do until we get him back to my place. Buck, you and Vin, get him on his feet, but be careful and don't let him put any pressure on his leg!" Morton warned. He stood and watched as Larabee's friends got him on his feet. Sanchez and Standish turned up and between them they carried a protesting Chris Larabee out of the courtroom.

---

Evan Rawlings made sure his two prisoners were locked in their cells before hurrying back to the saloon. Angela Tate-Wilmington's body remained on the floor, but most of the people had left. He spotted two boys peeking under the batwing doors and shooed them away before entering the saloon. He spotted Samuel Duff standing with Gerald Carlton and moved towards them.

"Cecil will be here in a few minutes to take care of her," Rawlings explained.

"Hell of a mess," Duff said.

"Yeah. I think it really shook the mayor up," Carlton observed.

"He'll get over it!" the sheriff said. "Duff, you saved Chris's life today and I'm indebted to you," the sheriff patted the older man on the shoulder as he spoke.

"Well, Sheriff, I figured even though he's a friend of yours he must have some redeeming qualities," Duff said with a grin. He'd known the sheriff since he'd taken the job, and they had a quiet respect for each other.

"Oh, that's one more I owe you," Rawlings said.

"Hell of a thing when a fine lookin' woman like that tries to kill a man," Carlton said softly.

"Yeah, it is, but at least she won't be hurting anyone else," Rawlings said as Cecil Leonard entered the saloon. The lawman took a deep breath and moved to help the man take care of the dead woman.

---

Chris gritted his teeth as Morton worked on his side and silently cursed his own refusal of laudanum. He felt each tug of the needle as each stitch was put in place and clenched his fingers in the edge of the blanket.

"Last one," the physician assured him.

"Thank Christ!" Larabee ground out.

"He offered you the laudanum, Son," Sanchez tried as he held Larabee in place.

"I know...shit!"

"That's it. Now all you have to do is lie there and give yourself time to heal!" the physician warned him.

"He will, Doc," Wilmington vowed. Since returning to the room his mind kept replaying the instant in the courtroom when he'd drawn his weapon on a woman and pulled the trigger. It was something he thought he'd never do, but it had happened and although he knew he had no choice, it still weighed heavy on his heart.

Chris saw the look on his long time friend's face and waited for the doctor to finish with him. Once he was finished Chris motioned for Tanner to come close and waited until the younger man was close enough to hear him.

"Need to talk to Buck."

"All right," the Texan said and stood up. "Boys, think maybe Sheriff Rawlings could use our help."

"Yes, I'm sure he would be appreciative if we were to..."

"Jest say you agree, Ezra, no need of sermonizing it," Sanchez said.

"Chris, we'll be..."

"Buck," Tanner interrupted the ladies' man. "Someone needs ta sit on Chris ta make sure he stays put!"

"Doc's here..."

"Sorry, but I have a couple of other patients to check on."

"Guess you're stuck with me, Buck," Larabee said.

"Buck, I'm leaving the laudanum in case he needs it," Morton explained and placed the bottle on the bedside table.

"We'll bring ya back somethin' ta eat, Buck," Tanner said as the judge held the door open for them.

"Don't forget me, Tanner!" Larabee warned.

"Chris, I'll bring your lunch when I come back," Morton assured him.

"Anything but broth," the gunslinger said and heard soft snickers from his friends. It didn't take long for the room to empty out and Chris watched as his friend walked to the window. He knew he'd been right about the gentle rogue needing to talk and wanted to give him the time he needed together his composure.

"I killed her, Chris."

"You didn't have a choice, Buck," Larabee said, hating the sorrow and pain he heard in his friend's voice.

"Didn't I?" Wilmington turned toward the injured man with tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.

"What choice did she give you?"

"I didn't have to shoot to kill!"

"Is that what you intended when you shot her?"

"I don't know. I just saw the gun and knew I couldn't let her hurt anyone else, especially you. She hurt you too much already," Wilmington swallowed the painful lump in his throat as he tried to keep the horror from his voice.

"I'm not the only one she hurt, Buck! She hurt you in the worst possible way. She hurt you through me..."

"Ya got that wrong, Chris. I wasn't hurt."

"Weren't you? I think Angela hurt you more than any bullet to the chest could, Buck. She took your heart and for the lack of better words, she broke it and that's something I'll never forgive her for. Tell me you're not hurting..."

"I wish I could, Chris, God help me I loved her and hated her at the same time. How is that possible?"

"Someone once told me there's a fine line between love and hate, Buck. What we have to do is know where we draw that line and why we step over it. I thought I loved Ella Gaines and was ready to marry her, but you know what a fucking mistake that was!"

"My mama would say Angela and Ella were both cut from the same cloth and should be burned until there's nothing left for the wind to blow away," Wilmington said sadly as he sat on the chair next to Larabee's bed. He studied the handsome face that still seemed to pale and knew Chris was the one man who could understand what he meant. They'd been through many of the same emotions and now it seemed as if it really was time to let go.

"Get your head up, Buck, and walk proudly. There are few men who know as much about me as you do and not another man I'd rather have at my side. I know we've had disagreements, but don't ever doubt that I'll be there if and when you ever need me."

"Thanks, Chris, I needed that," Wilmington said and reached for the bottle of laudanum. Now, it's 'bout time you took this and got some sleep."

"No way in hell!" Larabee spat as he saw the relief on his friend's face.

"Now, Pard, you and I both know you don't have the strength of a newborn calf and I'm a lot stronger than that. Open up!"

Larabee glared at the rogue and knew there was no choice in the matter as Buck held the spoon in front of his mouth. He swallowed the medicine and took the offered water, before closing his eyes and waiting for it to take effect.

---

Chris smiled as Evan Rawlings and his new wife entered the room. He'd wanted to attend the wedding, but Morton refused to be cajoled into letting him out of bed. Three days had passed since the incident at the trial and during that time Chris had suffered through a mixture of fever and chills that succeeded in sapping what little energy he had. Now he was finally starting to come around, but it was too late to attend the wedding itself.

"Chris, you look a lot better than you did yesterday," Rawlings advised.

"Thanks, I think," Larabee said and tried to sit up straighter.

"Don't you mind him none, Mr. Larabee. You look fine."

"Thank you, Miss....Mrs. Rawlings."

"I thought we were past that, Mr..."

"Only when you agree to call me Chris," the blond told them as Wilmington and the others came into the room. He knew the ladies' man had stood for their friend and also knew the wedding present he was about to give the two would go far in making sure they had a comfortable future.

"I'll try, Mr...I mean Chris," the woman blushed and suddenly Chris saw the true beauty in this woman.

"Congratulations to you both and I hope you're both showered with riches that a man and woman can truly enjoy," Larabee told them.

"Thank you, Chris," Rawlings said.

"Evan, me and the boys decided to give you both a wedding present," Wilmington said, and shook his head as the others tried to protest. "I know it is rightfully mine, but it comes from all of us and I hope you won't refuse it because...well he...shoot, I wouldn't know what to do with it."

"Buck, stop blubbering and tell the newlyweds your news," Standish said impatiently.

"I'm getting to it!"

"By the time ya do they'll be complainin' about bein' grey," Tanner cut in.

"I'm getting there!"

"You are?" Sanchez asked.

"Damn, okay look, Evan, Martha," Wilmington reached for Martha's hand and held it in his own. "I want so much for you to have this and knowing how hard things can be on a lawman's wages I figured you'd have a hard time getting a place of your own."

"Buck...I...we," Rawlings interrupted.

"No, Evan, let me finish, okay? See I loved Angela Tate, but not the woman she became. When I first met her I thought God had seen fit to send me an angel, but that was not to be and like so many people who fall for the wrong person, I was hurt...not in the same way Chris was, but it hurt me still. I'm not getting this across very well, but what I'm trying to say is that I want you to have Angela's place. Now hold on and listen to what I'm saying. I won't ever live there and that means that beautiful home and all the stuff inside will just go to dust and what good is that. This way I'll know that someone I care about is living there and making it a home...a real home with kids and maybe even a dog..."

"Buck, I don't know what to say," Rawlings said as he watched his wife's face fill with sadness.

"Say yes, Evan, and all I ask is for you both to be happy," the rogue said.

"Oh, Buck," Martha cried and pulled him into a fierce hug. She knew this man wasn't being forward in his offer of the home and she turned to her new husband with tears in her eyes. "This feels right, Evan. I think God has shown us exactly what he wants us to do. By accepting this offer from Buck, we're releasing him from any bonds he had to that despicable woman and he's giving us the means to raise a family."

"Never argue with a woman, Evan, especially when she's your wife and smart as a whip," Sanchez explained.

"Looks like I'm outnumbered..."

"And outgunned," Standish said with a grin.

"Well, it seems like there should be some kind of toast," Larabee said and tried to sit up a little more.

"Doc always has a bottle handy," Rawlings said and moved to check the cupboards. He smiled as he reached for the unopened bottle of whiskey and several glasses that he quickly poured a measured dose into.

Chris reached for a glass, but was intercepted by a very wily female.

"Sorry, Chris, whiskey is not on Dr. Morton's list of things you should have," Martha scolded softly.

"Ah, hel...heck, Martha, wasn't gonna drink it, just make the toast," Larabee told her.

"Sure you were..."

"Really I was..."

"Then water will do just fine," the woman said and handed him a glass of clear water.

"Damn," Larabee said.

"Feel sorry for you, Chris, I surely do," Rawlings said with a hint of a grin on his face.

"Just remember this when you're laid up sick or hurting, Evan, and she hands you a glass of horse piss," the blond said and heard the others laugh.

"A toast," Wilmington said and they held their glasses high. "To a lifetime of happiness and a houseful of children underfoot."

"Thanks, Buck," Rawlings said as they completed the toast.

Chris nodded at his friend who seemed so much more at ease now that he'd handed over the Tate ranch to the loving couple. He knew Evan and Martha would have many years of happiness under the roof and erase the memories left over from Tate's ownership. He closed his eyes and listened to the others talking and knew Wilmington was beginning to rid himself of the guilt he felt. Chris knew it would not go away overnight, but at least it was a beginning and Chris knew all about beginnings. His own world had crashed in on him nearly four years ago when Ella Gaines had hired Fowler to kill his family, but he'd managed to pull himself back from the brink and had found a new family. One made up of six other men who relied on each other and were there to help each other when the deck was stacked against them. These men were his family and Four Corners was his home he though and drifted towards an easy sleep.

---

"Nathan, I see 'em coming!" Dunne shouted as he raced up the stairs to the healer's clinic. Two weeks had passed since the wire from Josiah stating that Chris and Buck were healing and that Angela Tate was dead. Ethan Turner was sentenced to Yuma while Rosemary Clark had been sent to a sanatorium to live out her life. Since finding out that Angela Tate was dead he woman had become quiet and withdrawn. She wouldn't eat or drink and never spoke a word. Morton had said she was probably in deep shock and might never be the same again. Either way she faced a lifetime of seclusion.

Nathan hurried out and met the kid at the top of the stairs and glanced toward the street as five men rode up. He gave them all a quick once over until his expert gaze came to rest on Chris Larabee. The stitches had been removed from above his eye, but he couldn't see the wound, because a familiar hat covered it. The blond's arm was still immobilized and he could tell Larabee was favoring his injured side. Nathan hurried down the stairs and reached the bottom at the same time the group drew to a stop before the clinic.

"Chris, come up to the clinic and let me take a look at you," Jackson ordered.

"I don't think so, Nate. I need a drink!"

"Chris..."

"Mr. Jackson, might I remind you that it has been a long dry road we've traveled and perhaps Mr. Larabee would be more willing to submit to your examination if he is feeling slightly tipsy," Standish suggested.

"It'd take more than me feeling a little tipsy," Larabee told him, dismounting and wincing as his feet hit the ground.

"It won't take long," Jackson tried.

"Nate, let the man have a drink and I promise I'll personally hogtie him and carry him up to your clinic," Wilmington said.

"Try it and I'll..."

"Shoot me?" the gentle rogue laughed, contented now that they were finally home. 'Home,' he thought as he gazed at the weather-beaten buildings and felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Buck, are you okay?" Dunne asked as the others walked towards the saloon. He'd been watching the older man closely and could still see the evidence of what he'd been forced to do. This man was a lover of women and he'd been forced to shoot someone who he thought he loved.

"No, Kid, not really, but I'm getting there," the ladies' man said, removing the younger man's hat and hitting him with it and laughing as dust billowed up from the youth's clothing. They made it to the saloon and entered through the batwing doors. Once inside they hurried to their usual table and sat down as Inez delivered the drinks.

"Ez, not sure if I said this, but even if I did, I'll say it again," Wilmington said as he looked at the gambler. "You saved my life that day and I'm beholding to you."

"I believe that debt has been paid many times over," Standish said simply.

"That may be, Ez, but we're all grateful that you're quick with that little hide-away of yours," Larabee said and lifted his glass.

"Mothah always said to be prepared," Standish told them.

"Time for a toast," Larabee said as he looked at each man before returning his attention to the liquor in his glass.

"Whatcha got in mind, Cowboy?" Tanner asked.

"To family and the strange places we find them," the blond said and knew the others understood what he was telling them. They lifted their glasses and relaxed, yet each man knew that at any time their lives could be put on the line without a moment's notice. Theirs was a family of misfits, but the design was perfect. Chris sat back and his eyes met Buck's and a silent vow passed between them, a vow that no one, man or woman, could ever break.

THE END