Devil's Destiny by Winnie

The late afternoon sun beat down on the town of Four Corners, lengthening the shadows and covering the street in a warm, dusty blanket. The stage pulled to a stop in front of the livery and the driver jumped down to open the door.

Chris Larabee never tired of watching people. You could tell a lot from the way people acted when they didn't realize they were under scrutiny. He watched the first person step out of the stage and wondered just what brought this newcomer to the town. He listened to the man as he called to the driver in a thick accent he couldn't place.

"Well now, my dear man, could you kindly hand me down my luggage," the man requested.

Chris watched the newcomer, who appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, as he struggled with the heavy bags. He finally gave up on carrying the bag and dropped it to the ground. Despite the fact he was taller, the visitor reminded Chris of Jock Steele. The pint-sized dime store novelist had made quite a name for himself and had an avid fan in JD Dunne.

The blond gunslinger stood up from his chair and pulled his hat forward on his head. His steady gaze went up and down the dusty street, searching for signs of trouble. He leaned his tense frame back against the post. His eyes were drawn once more to the stagecoach, where the newcomer was staring right back at him. Larabee kept his face serious until the man dropped his gaze and turned back to his bags. Leaving the guest behind, the leader wore a cocky grin as he set out to quench his thirst.

Four Corners has just handed me what I'm looking for, Maguire thought as he headed for the hotel. He could feel the hint of darkness being reborn, and grinned as the excitement coursed through his body. That malevolent power that he needed was now at his fingertips. "Soon," he whispered, eyeing the lean figure disappearing through the batwing doors of the local saloon, "...soon your soul will be mine..." his eyes lit up in delicious delight.

Chris glanced around the dull interior until his green eyes met a set of familiar blue ones. The lean buckskin clad body was lounging near the back of the room. He walked towards the table and sat in the chair next to his friend. Caution kept his back to the wall, so he could maintain a constant watch on the door. Neither man said a word as Vin slid a shot glass towards the man in black.

Chris lifted the glass to his mouth and dumped the entire contents inside. He swallowed the fiery liquid, sighing audibly as it traced its way down his parched throat.

"Thirsty, Cowboy?"

"Not anymore." Larabee grinned as he set the glass back on the table. "Where is everyone?"

"Buck and JD are out on Patrol. Ezra is helping Nathan and Josiah fix somethin' at the church."

"Ezra Standish doing menial labor?" Larabee nodded as Tanner held the half full bottle of Red Eye over his empty glass.

"Well I wouldn't say he's doin' much of anythin' except gettin' in the way," Tanner laughed as he thought of the last time he'd seen Standish. The gambler was unable to hold his end of the board and he ended up pulling Nathan Jackson to the ground with him. The tracker hurried away before he collapsed in laughter.

Larabee grinned as he downed the second shot of whiskey. "Well, Pard, I think I'll go out to the shack for a couple of days."

"When're ya plannin' on leavin'?"

"First thing in the morning."

"Gonna work on fixin' up the barn?"

"Yeah, figure it's about time I fixed the damage from the last storm."

"Reckon. Anyone new come in on the stage?"

"Just one man," Chris tried to hide the instant dislike he felt for the visitor, but Tanner was the one man who could read him easily.

"He do somethin' ya didn't like?"

"Besides reminding me of Jock Steele?"

"Ah, hell, I know ya didn't like Steele, but he did a pretty good job with his novel. Leastwise that's what Josiah says," Tanner said as the saloon doors opened and a man he didn't recognize entered. "That him?" he inquired, shifting his gaze briefly as the blond head dipped once. "Don't see much of a resemblance with Steele. This guy's at least a foot and a half taller and more muscled."

"Never said he looked like him, just said he reminded me of him."

"Looks like he's comin' this way."

"Oh, great," Larabee hissed, unsure why the sight of this man set the hairs on the nape of his neck on end.

"Gentlemen, might I enquire who runs this fine establishment?"

"Ya might," Tanner said. "Don't always mean ya'll get the right answer."

"Pardon me?"

"Depends on who's asking." The gaze shifted, turning to a cautionary shade of icy green.

Ah, so perfect, a worthy opponent for sure. The newcomer thought as he looked into the glaring green eyes. "I like to know the business people in town. It helps in my line of work."

"Who are you and what line of work are you in?"

Already suspicious and I've only just met him. Oh, this should be good. "My name is Robert Maguire and I'm a salesman."

"What sorta things ya sell?" Tanner asked as he tipped his chair back, leaning against the wall.

"Just about anything from glasses to newfangled brooms to clothing. I delve into everything. I have a catalogue if you'd like to see it, Mr..." Maguire paused and saw a steel curtain close over the blue eyes. They now reeked of danger. He glanced at the menacing figure in black and his heart skipped a beat. The pale green eyes were guarded well. Smiling inwardly, he turned to the intense man. "I didn't get your name..."

"No, you didn't" Larabee replied tersely, turning back to his whiskey.

Larabee, it must be him. he recalled of the reply given by a stranger outside of whom he asked about the figure in black. Chris Larabee. A perfect name for the savior of my destiny, he thought, his eyes shifting from one man to the other. Another image formed, the best friend... the one who the greedy whino was all to eager to talk about. It's funny how a piece of silver can loosen the right lips. Tanner... the tracker... lived with the Indians. "Would either of you be interested in looking at my catalogue?"

"Not interested," Larabee muttered as he looked at the salesman. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this pesky businessman. "I'm heading out," he rose and nodded to his partner.

"Want some help tomorrow?" Vin asked, reading the warning in the green eyes clearly, as they flicked to the stranger. The watch your back was spelled out evenly and he nodded, giving his noted reply.

"Wouldn't mind," Larabee told his friend.

"If you change your mind..." Maguire's words were cut short, when the blond's eyes dissected them.

Larabee nodded slightly to his friend as he headed out the door. An uneasiness settled inside, knowing something was very strange about Robert Maguire.

"Your friend doesn't seem to trust me," Maguire observed.

Tanner smiled as the man in black disappeared. "Does he have a reason?" he asked.

Maguire smiled warmly at the sharpshooter. "No, Sir, I'm just a salesman and I'm just here to sell my wares. I hope I can do business with you."

"Ain't nothin' I need from no store," Tanner told him.

"You'd be surprised, young man, but I won't push anything on you. That's not the type of salesman I am," Maguire assured him.

"Mrs. Potter runs the store in town, ya might check with her," the sharpshooter suggested, as he stood up, "Ya stay a lot healthier, iffen ya mind yer business in this town, " he advised, then left the salesman sitting at the table.

Ah, I see you like to pick up for Chris Larabee. Well that will soon end. He is part of my destiny and soon his soul, his very being will be mine, Maguire thought, a tiny imperceptibly evil grin appeared on his face, but disappeared before it was fully formed. Soon, Chris Larabee, very soon.

Larabee let Pony have his lead. He knew the horse could travel this path without encouragement from him. He relaxed in the saddle, letting the steed guide them home. As the tiny shack came into view he pushed Pony a little faster in his need to be alone for a while. He slid from the saddle and led the beautiful horse to the corral where he removed the saddle and gave him a good rubdown before turning him loose.

A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the newcomer again. He wondered what it was about Robert Maguire that set his nerves on fire. This was a man he'd just met yet Chris knew instinctively there were hidden reasons for the man's being in Four Corners. Ah, hell, maybe he'll be gone before you get back to town, he thought.

He moved towards his little shack, a smile on his face as he relaxed and let the solitude and warmth of the place ease away the tension. He opened the door and pushed his way inside. Home, he thought, letting his grin widen.

"Good day, Mrs. Potter."

"Good day, Mr..."

"My name's Robert Maguire, Ma'am and I've been told you might be able to help me out."

"I will certainly try, Mr. Maguire. What is it you need?" Gloria Potter asked brightly.

"It's not what I need exactly, Mrs. Potter. You see I am a salesman and I've been traveling extensively in search of shall we say the perfect person to sell my wares to."

"Wares?"

"Why yes. I work for a rather large company in Boston and they are willing to ship things out to you on consignment."

"Consignment?"

"Yes, Dear Lady, it simply means they'll ship things out here for you to sell and you put it on display in your store. If it sells you receive a commission and the rest is sent back to my company. If it doesn't sell my company arranges for it to be returned. So you see there is no money lost by you either way, but you stand to make a fair profit if you give it a chance."

Gloria Potter smiled at the likable man standing before her. His short black hair was streaked with silver and she guessed his age to be around fifty. His dark brown eyes filled with excitement as he made his sales pitch. She nodded slowly as he passed her a catalogue, noting his hands were soft and unblemished as she accepted it. She looked up as the door opened and Mary Travis entered, newspapers in her hands.

"Good afternoon, Mary," she greeted.

"Good afternoon, Gloria," she said and turned her attention to the man standing at the counter. She sized up the expensive well tailored grey suit and wondered where the man came from.

"Mary, have you met Mr. Maguire?"

"No, I haven't."

"Robert Maguire, this is the owner of the Clarion News, Mrs. Mary Travis."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," Maguire made a flourish of lifting her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

Mary smiled at the man, wondering why the touch of his lips had felt so cold on her skin. "Are you staying in Four Corners long, Mr. Maguire?" she asked.

"That depends on how things go," Maguire told her. And how fast I can get my hands on Chris Larabee, he thought, smiling sweetly at the two women.

"Mr. Maguire is a salesman, Mary."

"Really, and what do you sell, Mr. Maguire?"

"Just look at this catalogue and all the fancy doodads," Gloria told her as she slid the catalogue towards the blond woman.

Mary studied the catalogue, wondering what some of the unrecognizable items were for. "Some of these items seem a bit steep, Gloria," she commented.

"I know but Mr. Maguire says his company will do it on consignment and I don't pay for anything. I even make a profit if it sells. He says I can't lose."

"Gloria, there's always a catch."

"I assure you, Mrs. Travis, there's none. I will even give you a written guarantee," he offered.

"I'm gonna order a couple of things," Gloria Potter said as she ran her hand over a picture of a silver brush and comb set. "I might even buy one of these for myself," she said wistfully.

"It is beautiful," Mary said.

"Beautiful ladies, such as yourselves, deserve beautiful things," Maguire smiled at the two blushing women.

"Thank you, Mr. Maguire," Gloria said.

"My pleasure, Ma'am. Could either of you recommend a good place to eat while I'm in town?"

"Inez, at the saloon makes some really wonderful meals," Gloria told him. "There's a cafe in town and the dining room at the hotel is good."

"I shall take your word for it, Dear Lady, and now I shall bid you both good day and check the lady's culinary attributes," he said as he bowed and left the store.

"Man is a silver tongued devil," Gloria Potter smiled.

"He would probably enjoy talking with Ezra," Mary laughed and the two women continued to look through the catalogue.

Chris spent the night thinking about how his life changed since he rode into Four Corners. He'd slept well and woke up ready and willing to work. He started by making a big breakfast and attending to Pony. He readied the equipment he'd need to fix the barn and sat back to wait on the scrappy Texan.

Chris watched appreciatively as the tracker rode towards him. He knew the man was coming even before he'd caught sight of the horse and rider. Two glasses of whiskey stood on the tiny table and he leaned his chair back on two legs. A small smile played on his face as the younger man rode into his yard and dismounted. Neither said a word as Tanner removed the saddle and turned Peso loose with Pony before walking to the small shack and sitting in the second chair.

"Drink?" Larabee asked, sliding the small glass across to the younger man.

"Thanks, am kinda parched," Vin smiled as he downed the shot of whiskey.

"How're things in town?"

"Quiet, almost too quiet," Tanner told him as the blond filled their glasses once more.

"Buck still staying with Blossom?"

"Yeah, but not fer long. Her fella's supposed ta be comin' back next week."

Larabee grinned as he downed the second shot, smacking his lips as the fiery liquid burned a trail down his throat. "Buck'll never learn. He'll probably be in her bed when her fella comes through the door."

Tanner laughed, "yeah but he's pretty damned quick at flyin' through windows."

Larabee laughed as he remembered Buck dropping to the ground before him when he'd first come to Four Corners. Before the seven men became friends and fellow peacekeepers. "Buck's a carouser and always will be," he grinned cockily.

"He's gonna c...carouse with the wrong lady one of these days," Tanner observed. "...end up with an ass full o'buckshot..."

"Buck'll just talk his way out of it. He's good at that."

"Well we'd best get started if'n we're gonna get this done 'fore I leave tonight."

"Reckon," Larabee smiled as the younger man stood up and moved towards the barn.

"Looks like the wind near tore the whole side outta it."

"Yeah, damned good thing Pony wasn't in there," Larabee said as he joined the younger man.

"Gonna be a lotta work," the blue eyes observed.

"You up to the challenge?" Chris inquired, raising a single sandy eyebrow and wearing a cocky grin. He saw the Tanner smile being born, before the retort came back.

"Reckon."

"I have a good stash of red eye," Larabee grinned as he removed his black shirt and draped it over the fence.

"Gonna need it," Tanner exclaimed as he looked at the barn and then down at the buckskin jacket he wore. With a heavy sigh he peeled away the layers of clothing and soon was as bare chested as Chris Larabee.

Both men moved towards the barn and worked as a team. One grabbing new boards and holding it in place, the other hammering the nails. The sun beat down from above covering both hard bodies in a glistening sheen of sweat.

"Hot work," Larabee said as he swiped at the sweat running into his eyes.

"Bar open?" Vin squinted and saw the wet blond head nod, "Good... I'm parched... I need a drink."

"Yep, maybe more than one," Larabee smiled as he dropped the board and headed for the shack.

"Sounds good," Tanner smiled and followed his friend.

Larabee poured two drinks and sank heavily into a chair. "What's Maguire up to?"

Tanner studied his friend. It wasn't often people ruffled Larabee's feathers but Robert Maguire seemed to have done just that after only a couple of minutes. "He really got ta ya didn't he?" the tracker mused with a small smile.

"I just don't trust him, Vin," Larabee said. "Something about him doesn't seem right. I can't put my hands on it, but that man is trouble."

"Well he's made a good impression on the ladies."

"What ladies?"

"Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Travis, and Miss Inez. They seem ta think he's a real gentleman."

"Keep an eye on him," Larabee warned.

"I won't have ta. Seems like he's spending a lot of time with Ez. Spoutin' five-dollar words at each other."

"Maybe Ezra will talk to him so much he'll leave town."

"Ain't never seen ya like this, Chris."

"Just keep an eye on him, Vin."

"I will," Tanner assured him as he drank the second glass of whiskey. "Reckon we'd best get some more work done."

Larabee smiled as he stood up and moved back to the barn. Once more the pounding of a hammer broke the silence as the two men finished the repair work.

Maguire couldn't help but admire the two lean bodies labouring under the hot sun. His vantage point was perfect and the special eyeglass he used made it easy to make out the beads of sweat running down the two glistening bodies. It's amazing the information a drink can buy you, he thought, remembering the thirsty drunk who'd eagerly pointed the way to Larabee's home. He moved the glass from one figure to the other, knowing once he took his intended victim the other man would be a force to be reckoned with. He turned away from the two men and hurried back to his rented horse. He wanted to be back in town before Tanner returned.

"When're ya comin' back ta town?"

"A couple of days," Larabee said as he reached up and clasped the younger man's arm in their forearm clasp.

"Be seein' ya, Cowboy."

Larabee's mouth curled up, "Watch your back, Tanner." He warned and watched the younger man ride out, the sun just going behind the clouds as he relaxed back in the chair.

It was four days later when Chris finally rode back into Four Corners. The streets were quiet, even for early afternoon and he briefly wondered where everyone was. Laughter reached his ears and he headed for the hotel. He dismounted and looped Pony's reins over the hitching post. As he pushed open the door people turned towards him. Chairs were set up and every one was occupied with a member of the town, including the other six peacekeepers.

"Hi, Chris," Dunne was the first to see him.

"JD, what's going on?"

"Robert is showing us some of the things he's selling in that catalogue. You should see this stuff, Chris."

Larabee's eyes met the dark eyes of Robert Maguire and again felt there was something strange about the man, something he knew he couldn't just dismiss. Why are you really here? he thought as the other man again broke contact.

So strong, so dark, so perfect. Soon, Chris Larabee, very, very soon, Maguire thought. "Now this is something you gentlemen could buy for your wife or special lady," he said as he held up the silver brush and comb set that had caught both Mary Travis and Gloria Potter's attention. "The detail on this is wonderful and it will last for years. It'll probably become a family heirloom and be passed from mother to daughter for years to come," he smiled as he looked around the room, his eyes once more coming to rest on the blond gunslinger. "What about you, Mr. Larabee? Is there a special lady you would like to present this to?"

"Yeah, Stud, who would you give a brush and comb to," Wilmington laughed as he looked from Larabee to Mary Travis and back again.

"Well, Mr. Larabee?" Maguire asked.

"Told you before, I'm not interested," Larabee directed and stared hard at Maguire, "...in anything from you." He turned slowly and left the room. He shook off the odd feeling once he left the hotel and headed for the saloon.

"Hey, Cowboy, what's the rush?"

Larabee turned at the familiar voice, waiting for the younger man to catch up. "I need a drink."

"Want some company?"

"You don't want to see the other things Maguire is selling?"

"Nah, ya know I don't cotton ta none of that useless city stuff."

"Glad I'm not the only one," Larabee managed, shaking his head and crossing through the batwing doors.

Maguire continued to show the items he managed to bring with him even though he wanted nothing more than to put his plans in motion. Designs that would soon see the blond gunslinger under his particular brand of care. He lifted a surgical instrument and showed it to the excited crowd, his eyes coming to rest on Nathan Jackson. He'd done his homework and knew this man was the town healer The ex-slave was a very good one from the praise the people heaped on him. "This is the newest surgical instrument from John's Hopkins. As you can see its very strong and I'm sure Mr. Jackson can appreciate the fine workmanship." He held up the scalpel turning it so the people in the room could see the carved handle and the well honed edge on the blade.

"It is a nice piece. How much for that one?"

"Sorry," Maguire said, knowing he'd need this little gem for his own private use. "This one is only for show. I can have one sent with Mrs. Potter's order." Maguire opened the catalogue and quoted the price to Jackson.

Jackson thought for a few minutes, his eyes straying to the item in Maguire's hand before making up his mind. "I'll take one," he said.

"A very wise decision, Mr. Jackson," Maguire grinned as he marked in his book. When the final item was shown Maguire breathed a sigh of relief. With his prey so close, he was anxious for the game to begin.

"Mr. Maguire, would you like to join us for a drink?" Yosemite asked.

"Why that would be fine, Yosemite. All this talk has left me a little parched," he followed the other men out of the hotel and walked with them towards the saloon. He knew Larabee's men were with them and would form a circle around their leader.

Larabee heard the large group coming towards the saloon and poured himself and Tanner a drink.

"Sounds like Maguire is finished with his sales pitch," Tanner said as the doors swung open and a group of rambunctious men piled in.

"So much for peace and quiet," Larabee hissed as he downed the whiskey. He looked at the salesman coming towards their table.

"Mr. Larabee, I'd like to apologize for putting you on the spot back there. I really didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me," Larabee told him.

"Will you accept a drink to show you how truly sorry I am."

"Go on, Chris, let the man buy you a drink," Wilmington chortled with a wink as he slid into the chair beside his old friend.

"Please, Mr. Larabee," Maguire begged.

"Ah, Chris, he really does sound sorry," Tanner smiled at his friend.

"Alright, Maguire," the leader hissed, clearly annoyed.

"I'll be right back," Maguire smiled as he moved towards the bar, his thoughts once more turning to his plans for the man in black. He returned with a bottle of the most expensive whiskey Inez had to offer and pulled a chair up to the table. He opened it and poured the first shot in the gunslinger's glass, before filling the other six glasses and one for himself. "Salute," he said as he raised his glass.

"What?" Dunne asked.

"It's a toast, Mr. Dunne," Standish observed.

"Oh," Dunne said as he raised his glass. "S...salute."

Larabee swallowed the whiskey and nodded to Maguire. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Larabee," Maguire smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes.

"Well, Chris, how're things at your place?" Wilmington asked.

"Fine, Buck," Larabee answered as he accepted the bottle from Maguire and refilled his glass, his eyes meeting the dark ones of the newcomer. It's like there's nothing in there, he thought as he passed the bottle back. Again the hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as the man lowered his eyes and looked away.

"Did you and Vin get the barn fixed?"

"We did," Larabee answered the ladies' man.

"Well, gentlemen, I have a few things to straighten out at the bank. Now that I've got my orders I shall be leaving your fair town."

"When are you plannin' on leavin'?" Tanner asked.

"Sometime tomorrow morning."

"There's no stage tomorrow," Larabee told him.

"I know, Mr. Larabee. I bought a fine horse from Yosemite. He assures me that I did indeed get a good animal."

"Yosemite only sells the best," Larabee agreed, not showing the relief he felt at the news that this man would be leaving Four Corners.

"Thank you, Mr. Larabee, I'm sure he does. Anyway, good day, gentlemen," he said as he left the saloon.

Tanner met Larabee's gaze and could see the relief shining there. Ya really don't like that man do ya, Cowboy? he thought as the blond lifted his glass.

Chris saddled Pony and led him from the livery, as the bright morning sunshine drove away some of the weariness he felt. His face bore the fatigue only a restless night tossing in bed can do. Maguire's features invaded his nightmares and he was glad the man was leaving town today. He would be only to glad to see the unsettling presence leave the town that had become home. He rode the horse out of town, nodding as he passed Vin Tanner going into the jail.

Chris figured he was riding for an hour when he first noticed he was being followed. He slowed Pony to a walk and gave the person a chance to catch up, swearing as he recognized the rider coming towards him.

"Good morning, Mr. Larabee."

"What do you want, Maguire," Larabee snapped, angry that this man was following him.

"I just wanted to apologize once more before I left."

"You already did that," he told him, his nerve endings tingling as he gazed into the dead eyes before him.

"I know but I still feel bad. It's such a hot day and I thought you would accept this as a peace offering," Maguire smiled as he pulled a bottle from his saddlebag.

Larabee took the expensive bottle, his uneasiness with this man still wreaked havoc on his senses and he angrily tossed the bottle to the ground. "Look, Maguire, I haven't hidden the fact that I don't trust you and about the only thing I want from you is to see your back as it rides away from Four Corners," he spat. He quickly turned away from the man and hurried away.

Maguire watched the retreating figure dressed in black, an evil grin forming on his face. He dismounted and picked up the intact bottle and slid it back into his saddlebag. "Oh, Chris, you are worthy and soon I'll be able to show you just what you mean to me," he whispered. His eyes continued to follow his intended victim until he disappeared around the bend. His admiration for the hostile gunslinger could be read openly on his face as he mounted his horse and rode away.

Chris continued patrolling the area north of town for several hours. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as he finished the final search of the area. His parched throat told him it was time for something with more of a kick than water and he headed back towards town.

Maguire rode north until he spotted the familiar copse of trees. He found this cave some time ago. He was using it as a base when he wasn't searching for someone to help him fulfill his destiny. As he dismounted in front of the hidden dwelling, he thought of how perfect Larabee would be. He pushed away the rocks and brush he used to cover the entrance and strode purposefully inside. Just inside the door he found a lantern and lit it before going deeper into the cavern.

The tunnel leading to the main chamber had a low ceiling and the salesman was forced to duck in places to keep from hitting his head. He smiled as he entered the thirty by forty foot chamber. The supplies he laid in over the past few months were untouched and he knew things were ready. All he needed was to bring the gunslinger and show him the art of meeting one's destiny.

Maguire moved to a small trunk and pulled out a small black and white photo. "See, father, I do have what it takes." He lovingly caressed the picture, his eyes misting with tears. "I warned you not to hurt me, but you wouldn't listen. Now you're burning in hell and I'm the one who put you there." He threw the picture across the room, watching as the paper fluttered slowly to the ground. "I'm so much stronger than you ever were, you bastard," he swore as he turned and hurried from the chamber.

"Hey, Chris," Dunne called as Larabee rode back into town.

The gunslinger pulled Pony to a stop in front of the livery and dismounted. "JD," he greeted. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," the youth answered, following Larabee into the livery.

"Where's everyone?"

"Over at the saloon," the easterner answered as the older man passed Pony's reins to Yosemite.

"Sounds like the perfect place to be." The parched man strode away from the livery and hurried across the street.

He entered the dull interior and quickly found the other five men he called friends. The tracker was seated off to himself with two empty glasses on the table before him. Larabee grinned as Tanner poured a shot of whiskey in each glass.

He slid into the vacant chair and picked up the silent offering. "Thanks," he sighed gratefully and swallowed the fiery liquid.

"Any problems?" Tanner asked.

"Ran into Maguire."

Tanner's eyes shot up imperceptibly. "What did he want?"

"Wanted to apologize and offered me a bottle of expensive whiskey."

"What'd ya do with it?"

Larabee helped himself to a second shot and slugged it back. "Threw it on the ground and told him to leave," he finally answered.

Tanner's head bobbed once in understanding. "Ez and the kid saw him headed south a little 'fore noon today." He knew his friend would shake off the feelings of uneasiness now that Maguire was out of the picture.

"Must've came back here right after I met up with him."

"Reckon."

The two men lapsed into companionable silence. Neither man needed to talk to get their feelings across. They knew the important things could be said with the toss of a head or a simple hand gesture. The conversations in the room carried back to them and they sighed contentedly.

"I'm going to miss the stunning conversations between myself and Mr. Maguire," Standish observed as he dealt the ever present deck of cards.

"Don't we give you stunning conversations, Ezra?" Dunne asked.

"I assure you, Mr. Dunne, our conversations are more than stunning," Standish smiled at the younger man.

"Did you guys buy anything from Maguire?" Jackson asked.

"I bought one of those hair combs for Casey."

"The silver one?"

"No, Buck, Maguire said it's called a comb and just sits in her hair."

"What's the good in that?" Wilmington asked.

"It's supposed to look nice," the sheriff explained.

"Thought you liked Casey as she was?" the ladies' man teased.

"Buck, it's a gift. You know something you give to a lady to show her you appreciate her," Dunne explained.

The moustached man smiled and arched his eyebrows knowingly. "JD, there are gifts and then there are gifts," he grinned mischievously.

"Buck, you always say that," the kid huffed.

"You'll learn all about the finer art of gift giving as you get older," Wilmington laughed as the younger man got up to leave. "Go ahead and give her the comb. I'm sure she'll appreciate it more than the frog digger."

"You were a bit rough on him, Brother," Sanchez observed.

"The kid has to learn it ain't about giving things. At least not those kind of things."

"Buck, that kid could probably show you a thing or two about gifts for ladies," Jackson told him.

"Well, I gotta go give Miss Blossom a real gift," Wilmington laughed and left the others alone in the saloon.

"He'll never learn," Larabee muttered, leaning his chair back against the wall, relaxing for the first time since Maguire showed up in town.

"Headin' out?" Tanner asked a week later. The town was quiet except for a couple of trail hands who now resided in jail until they sobered up.

Larabee turned as the tracker came into the livery. "Yeah, figure I'll go check on the repairs we made to the barn. See how they held up in the storm yesterday."

"Ya comin' back tonight?"

"Probably not. I'll do a patrol of the area along the way and spend a couple of days at my place. I'll see you in a few days."

"Alright." The sharpshooter watched as his friend left town before turning towards the saloon.

Chris dismounted and unsaddled Pony. His patrol of the area was quiet and he relaxed as he released the beautiful animal into the corral. He picked up his saddlebags and headed for the small house he now called home. He opened the door and walked into the dull interior, depositing the saddlebags on the table. He looked at the bottle of whiskey on the mantle and sighed. He picked up the bottle, poured himself a small shot and downed it. Sighing in contentment as he placed the bottle on the table.

The sun was just beginning its downward journey and he moved back outside to check the barn. He examined the repairs, smiling as he noted they held up nicely during the storm. His gaze fell on the borrowed wagon. Guess I'll return that tomorrow, he thought, shaking his head as his vision blurred slightly.

He moved to the small corral and picked up the brush. He used it to give the horse a good rubdown, before making sure the animal had plenty of feed and water. Again he shook his head to ward off the dizziness building there. "What the hell..." he muttered tiredly. He walked out of the corral and made his way towards the house. He barely made it to the front door and grabbed the porch rail as his vision blurred once more. He turned at the sound of footsteps, his hands moving towards his gun as he recognized the shape standing before him. His arms felt leaden as he tried to pull the colt from the holster.

"What the hell did you d...do?" he snarled as he felt himself losing his tenuous hold on consciousness. He fell heavily to the ground, his head impacting with the edge of the railing. He felt a sharp pain on the right side of his head.

Maguire reached for the semi conscious man, an evil grin on his face. He ignored the tiny trickle of blood from the wound as he spoke softly. "I did what I had to do in order to take my destiny."

"S...son of a B...bitch," Larabee swore as he tried to fight the oncoming lethargy washing over his body. He felt Maguire remove his colt from his hand and something was wrapped tightly around his wrists. I hate it when I'm right, was his last thought as darkness overtook the light of day.

Robert Maguire worked quickly to secure the blond's wrists. He grinned as he thought of the hours spent watching the tiny clearing, waiting for this man to return. "Can't have you hurting yourself when I can do a much better job of it," he grunted as he bound the ankles of the unconscious victim. He hurriedly hitched his horse to the wagon and turned back to the gunslinger, easily lifting him inside. As a precaution he gagged and blindfolded the gunslinger, patting his shoulder gently before speaking. "Destiny is a wonderful thing as you'll soon find out."

The salesman jumped down from the wagon and hurried into the cabin to get some supplies. He took blankets, coffee and the bottle of whiskey, realizing he'd need the drug. The blond captive would be rousing before they got to the cave. He hurried back outside and covered Larabee with one of the blankets. Darkness was quickly descending as he rode away from his prisoner's home. He knew the route by heart and couldn't take the chance one of Larabee's men would discover them as he aimed the wagon towards the cavern so far away.

Four Corners was blanketed under a cloak of darkness, except for the fires burning in the street. Six men sat in their usual seats in the saloon as Inez returned with a final round of drinks for them.

"Well, I think it's time fer me ta turn in. I've got early patrol tomorrow." Vin yawned and stretched his arms.

"Good night, Mr. Tanner," Standish said.

"Night, Vin," Wilmington, Dunne, Jackson and Sanchez said at once.

Vin stepped into the street and looked up at the millions of stars shining overhead. He never tired of the beauty nature had to offer and he breathed deeply of the warm night air. A shudder ran down his back as he looked towards the moon and a dark cloud blotted out the circular orb. Damn, he thought as he headed for his wagon.

Robert Maguire looked at the man hanging before him. He knew he was on the verge of waking up and that brought a smile to his face as stepped towards his victim. He snagged the blond hair and lifted the head. "It's time to wake up and meet your destiny, Chris Larabee," he whispered in the man's ear.

The gunslinger moaned as the hand gripped his hair and pulled up sharply. He couldn't remember what happened, but he knew this was going to be bad. He forced his eyes to open and look at the man holding his head.

"Welcome to your destiny, Chris Larabee," Maguire laughed and released his captive's head.

Chris kept his eyes open and looked around. His hands were tied with a length of cord and secured to a hook above his head, his ankles were likewise secured to hooks in the ground and his legs were partially spread. His cloths had been removed and an Indian loincloth was around his waist. His body trembled in the cold cave and he searched out his nemesis.

"Do you like our home, Chris?"

"You son of a bitch," Larabee hissed.

"You will call me worse than that before I take your soul."

Larabee's head was ringing and he struggled to grasp the man's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Maguire?"

"My father taught me that I could break a man and take his strength and his soul as my own if I found the right man. He said it was a man's destiny. I knew when I saw you that you were the one."

"The one what?" Larabee tried to stay focused but the lingering effects of the drug made it impossible.

"The one who would make me whole."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, knowing without a doubt he didn't really want the answer.

"I'm going to kill you, Chris Larabee, but not before you scream out your pain. As that scream leaves your body so will your strength and your soul. At that point I will truly own them both," Maguire laughed as he took something from his pocket. The light reflected off the shiny metal and Chris recognized it as a scalpel, one similar to those Nathan Jackson would use. "I will know when the time is right and the scream real," he said as he touched the blade to Larabee's thigh. He sliced across the leg with just enough pressure to bring a thin stream of blood to the surface. "We have forever to make you scream, Chris, and until you do I will enjoy watching you suffer," Maguire hissed as he turned away from his victim.

Larabee clenched his teeth as the stinging bite of the scalpel ebbed. He felt the blood flow slowly from the wound and slide in a sticky line down his leg. The wound itself wasn't deep and he knew it wouldn't kill him, but the slowly oozing blood could have devastating effects if it didn't stop.

"Oh, don't worry, Chris, I have no intention of letting you bleed to death," Maguire smiled as he poured whiskey onto a strip of cloth and applied it to the wound. "We have only just begun and have so much more to do. My father said I was the devil and he just may have been right."

"You bastard," Larabee hissed.

Maguire's fist shot out and connected with the gunslinger's right cheek, rocking his head back and bringing a bright red mark to his face. "You will never call me that again!" he snarled as his left fist drove into Larabee's midsection, driving the air from his lungs.

Larabee clenched his eyes as he desperately tried to draw air back into his starving lungs. He moaned softly as he finally succeeded and wondered how he was ever going to get away from the maniac smiling gleefully at him.

Maguire reached out with his index finger and touched the blood dripping from his victim's split lip. He grinned evilly as he stuck the finger in his mouth, "So sweet," he said. "Nectar of the Gods."

The green eyes glared angrily at the man before him and Maguire knew his instincts were right and he'd found the perfect man. "My search is finally over, Chris. The others were satisfying, but did not make me whole. With your death, I will be complete. I will live forever with the added strength of your dark soul. Sleep well, Chris, for when I return the games will begin anew."

How the hell did I get into this, the gunslinger thought as he watched the man leave the cave. He struggled with the cord wrapped around his wrists and realized all he'd managed to do was tighten them. He felt blood running from the abused flesh but continued to work on his bonds. He had no way of knowing how much time elapsed before his arms screamed in protest, the muscles cramping from his efforts to get free. The drug Maguire fed him was still in his system and he felt his fatigued body surrender to the call of sleep. Hell, Vin, I need help, he thought as his eyes slid closed.

Tanner sat bolt upright in his wagon, sweat beading on his forehead as the word resounded in his head. He knew it was Chris, knew instinctively something was wrong. The cry for help was something he hadn't expected, but it was something he wouldn't deny. He climbed out of the wagon and looked along the darkened street. Dawn was just beginning to brighten the sky as he moved towards the livery. Peso stood in the usual stall and Vin moved to saddle the horse.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin turned to see Ezra Standish leading his horse into the livery. The tracker knew the gambler was just returning from patrol and would soon head for his room to sleep the morning away. "I don't know, Ez," he answered.

"Those are ominous words. Are you perhaps sensing danger around our fair town?"

"Danger? Yeah, but it's not for the town. I think Chris is in trouble."

"Fire!" the call went up from a small home on the opposite end of town and both men forgot their conversation as one of the most feared words echoed through the town. They reached the burning building within seconds of the panicked cry and joined the bucket brigade.

When the word fire sounded in a town people moved fast. The building surrounding the afflicted one were in as much danger as the burning structure and people moved to save them. Buckets of water passed from one tired set of hands to another as men and women fought the blaze. They brought it under control just after daybreak but not soon enough to save the building. Luckily no one was hurt but a family was now without a home. The Millers were a proud family and lived in Four Corners since the beginning and they vowed to rebuild. A loud cheer rang up from the group at the news the couple and their three children would remain in town.

"Well, it appears even a tragedy such as this doesn't diminish the Millers' need to partake of the hardships of western civilization."

"Whatever you say, Ez," Tanner smiled tiredly as he followed the other men to the saloon. Inez saw them coming and knew they'd want something to eat. She'd prepared biscuits, bacon, and beans in large quantities, knowing the tired group of firefighters would be hungry.

Chris Larabee lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. He had no idea how long he'd been hanging in the cave but the fire died out hours ago and he'd been left in the damp, cloying darkness. He heard movement to his left and knew instinctively that the madman was back.

Maguire moved towards his victim and reached out to touch the bare skin. He used the scalpel to trail a thin line across the blonde's chest, smiling at the sharp intake of breath. "So nice of you to join me, Chris, I do hope you're enjoying your new accommodations."

"Go to hell," Larabee spat.

"Ah, I would love to grant you your wish, Chris, but I'm afraid I'll be making your life a living hell instead," Maguire remarked.

Chris heard him move away, but knew he'd be back. He closed his eyes against the bright light as his personal demon started a small blaze going in the cave. The light from the fire reached him but the warmth stayed just beyond his reach as he shivered in his bonds.

"Are you cold, Chris?"

"Not at all," Larabee answered sarcastically.

"I'm glad to hear that because I won't be staying in this cave with you. There's a lovely family just down the road a pace and they've kindly offered to let me have one of their beds since they won't be needing them."

"What the hell does that mean?" the gunslinger asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.

"Well, I'm afraid they met with an untimely death. It seems they fell victim to a few misplaced bullets. Oh well, shall we continue with our games?"

"You bastard," Larabee swore as Maguire showed him the whip he held in his hands.

"I bought this just for you, Chris. You should feel honored that I spent this money on my gift for you. I did not want to use instruments that were sullied by others. You are special, Chris Larabee, and nothing that touched anyone else will touch the skin on your body," Maguire's soft lilting voice was the only sound in the cave as he slowly ran the edge of the whip across his victim's taut muscles. "You will soon understand how much you mean to me. You will soon beg me to take your soul and free you from the chains of life," he drawled as he pulled the whip back over his right shoulder and let it fly in a tight arch towards the shivering form.

The gunslinger bit his lip as the first lash landed on his bare back. He held his breath waiting for the next to fall and clenched his fists at the agonizing white fire that burned a trail across his back and shoulders. He stopped counting as the sixth blow landed and tried to concentrate on something other than the searing pain Maguire was inflicting on him. "I'll kill you," he swore as another blow landed.

"I don't think so, Chris. Hmm, I think that's enough for now," Maguire said as he walked back to the fire.

Chris held his breath, waiting for the agony in his back to dwindle enough for him to take a breath.

"I just have to clean them now, Chris," Maguire explained as he placed a whiskey covered cloth over the raw wounds.

"Son of a bitch," Larabee hissed as he sagged against the cord holding his wrists.

"Oh, Chris, this really is only the beginning for both of us," Maguire gripped the blond hair and pulled the head back. He forced the bottle through the lips and poured the liquid into his victim's mouth, forcing him to swallow the fiery offering.

The whiskey burned as it flowed down his throat and Chris gagged against the searing fluid. He'd drank rot gut before but this was something worse. He gagged and sputtered as his stomach expelled its contents leaving him weak and disoriented.

"Such a waste. No matter. Why don't you close your eyes and get some rest. I will return later and we shall play more games."

Larabee's mouth, throat and stomach burned and he wondered what Maguire forced on him to make him feel so sick and cause so much pain internally. He sagged against the bonds once more, a silent cry emanating from his tortured throat. "Help," he rasped weakly.

Mary sat at her desk looking through old files. She'd known the Millers since she'd moved to Four Corners. The couple were already making planes to rebuild their home. She was searching for an old article written the day they arrived. They were one of the original homesteaders. She smiled as she came across the article about Chris Larabee. Bad element, she thought. Not so, Mr. Larabee, she smiled as she placed the article on top of the ones she'd already searched through, shaking her head when she noticed an article she'd dropped on the floor. She picked up the clipping and placed it on top of the one she'd just looked at.

Mary reached for the next article but something on the paper she'd just picked up caught her attention. The headlines and picture on the clipping caught her eye. She gasped as she realized the man staring up at her from an old newspaper article was none other than Robert Maguire, a little younger but there could be no mistaking who he was. She re-read the headline, knowing this man had wormed his way into their lives. She read the article and rushed out of the newspaper office in search of the peacekeepers. She ran towards Nathan Jackson's clinic ignoring the strange looks people turned her way. She hurried up the stairs and pushed open the door.

Jackson looked up as the breathless woman entered his clinic. "What's wrong, Mrs. Travis?"

"N...Nathan, where are the others?" she asked worriedly.

"Buck and JD are at the jail. Josiah is working at the church. Vin's getting ready to head out. Ezra's probably sleeping and Chris is at his shack," Jackson explained.

"I found this," she passed him the article and watched the shock on his face as he read the terrifying words.

"Come on, Mrs. Travis," he rushed from the clinic in a hurry to find the others and show them Mary's discovery. He ran to the jail calling to Buck and JD.

Dunne looked at Wilmington and rushed to open the door. "What's wrong, Nate?"

"JD, go wake Ezra and meet us at the church," Jackson ordered.

"Why?"

"Just do it, JD," Jackson shouted.

"Buck, I gotta go wake Ez. Nathan wants us all at the church."

"Did he say why?" Wilmington asked as he moved to join the younger man.

"No, but him and Mrs Travis were in an awful hurry."

"Alright, Kid, go get him and meet us there," Wilmington said as he hurried after the healer and the newspaperwoman.

Ten minutes later six men and one woman huddled in the tiny church as Mary Travis read the article aloud. She skimmed over the first few lines and skipped straight to the part of the article that sent knife like tendrils of fear into her heart. "Robert Maguire is wanted for the torture deaths of four men. The murders took place near his hometown but went undiscovered until a young couple stumbled over the gruesome scene while riding near Simpson's Crossing. The victims were identified by belongings found nearby. Ronald Parker, Johnny Mercer, Brian Barnes, and Joseph Carter were positively identified by family members and later shipped to their homes for proper burial. The bodies were scored with knife wounds, lash marks and burns, officials state the men suffered over a period of several days. Officials are unsure if Maguire was acquainted with the four men or if they were victims of a random rage. However, they report that the men appeared similar in appearance, all being of the same age, height, build, with blond hair and green eyes. This information was confirmed with the victims' families, who also knew of no known association between the men or with Maguire. Robert Maguire is considered dangerous and there is a reward for his capture dead or alive," Mary finished reading and turned to the six men, waiting for a response.

"I think I'll go check on Chris," Tanner told them, remembering the strange sensation that woke him earlier in the day. The silent cry for help was forgotten in the heated call of fire.

Mary looked back at the article and a shiver of dread ran through her. "You don't think Maguire would..." her voice trailed off as she looked at each man.

"I don't know, Mary, but I aim to find out," Tanner assured her.

"We aim to find out, Brother," Sanchez said leading the way out of the church.

Mary watched the six men hurry towards the livery, "Please, God, keep them all safe," she prayed.

His stomach was finally returning to normal with just a minor twinge of the agonizing fire he'd felt earlier. His arms and shoulders felt leaden as he struggled against the cords holding him tight. He'd tried to pull his ankles from the cords attached to them, but gave up when all it did was cause more agony to his shoulders when he lifted his feet completely off the floor. Time held little meaning for the gunslinger as there was no means to measure it in the dark confines of the cave. No light entered the cavern once the fire went out leaving him no way to tell whether it was night or day. He sagged against his bonds and let his head drop to his chest. I'm not giving up, he thought. Just need to rest for a little while.

He had no idea how long he slept but the sound of footsteps brought him back to the familiar darkness. He knew Maguire was back and he knew he'd need every ounce of strength he could muster to survive whatever this madman had in mind for him. He closed his eyes as a spark of light caught near him, the brightness of the quick flame causing his eyes to blink rapidly.

Maguire built up the fire until it illuminated the cavern. He rubbed his hands over the flame, smiling at the heat he felt there. He stood up and walked the short distance between the fire and his victim. "Hello, Chris, I hope you slept well."

Larabee refused to answer, his body trembling as the warmth of the fire finally reached him. Revulsion filled his eyes sending a warning that he'd find a way to repay what Maguire was doing to him.

Maguire hid the fear he felt wash over him as the restrained man glared at him. He knew if his victim ever got free he'd pay dearly for the pain he inflicted on him. He turned away from the gunslinger, hoping the blond hadn't read the fear in his own eyes. "I guess you're not feeling very talkative this morning, Chris. That's okay because I'll do the talking for both of us. I want you to know a little about me."

"I know all I need to know," Larabee snarled.

"No, Chris, you don't. I'm sure you remember me telling you you're not my first victim. You are number five. At least that's the official count, I learned as I went and the others will never be found. I can also include the bastard who called himself my father. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to him for teaching me the things I could do. The power I could gain by taking a man's life at just the right moment," he stalked back to the gunslinger, a look of longing on his face, licking his lips as if tasting the hint of desire, a desire to own this man's soul. "The power that you hide deep inside you. The power only you know about. You've felt it every time you've taken a life. Haven't you, Chris? All those innocent victims dead by your hand."

"I never killed an innocent man," Larabee growled.

"How can you be sure? Don't bother answering that because it really doesn't matter. You have the strength of each victim inside you and when you die at my hands I will gain not only your strength and soul but theirs as well. My father taught me many things about pain, Chris, and I will teach them all to you before you die." He reached out and ran his fingers along Larabee's right cheek, smiling when the blond tried to pull away. "Before you die you will beg my forgiveness and know that I am your master. The owner of your soul. The only man worthy of taking your life."

"You're a coward, Maguire," Larabee sneered as the cold fingers continued to touch him.

"I am not a coward, Chris. If I was I wouldn't be able to fulfill my destiny. Or should I say our destiny?" He walked back to the fire and picked up the cup he placed near the flames. "I have something for you to drink. It's just water and a little something to get your imagination working properly. It's something my father used to use and I know from personal experience that it makes for a wild ride. It's made from the nightshade plant and has been used in many ways. For our purposes it'll be used to give you a taste of what losing control is all about. It'll make you feel really strange, make your heart race faster than that beautiful animal you ride. Hopefully I'm using the right amount this time and you won't get so sick to your stomach," he explained.

Larabee swallowed, painfully aware of the last experience he suffered with liquids this man forced down his throat. He clamped his lips tightly as Maguire stood before him.

"That won't do, Chris," Maguire told him, Once more reaching for the blond hair and pulling the head back. The corded muscles in the exposed throat sent a ripple of pleasure through the evil man. He recognized the strength in them and knew when death took this man, that strength would be his to harness. "It would be easier if you'd just open your mouth."

Larabee ignored the calm voice but couldn't ignore the pain as his hair was pulled back, stopping just short of pulling it from his scalp.

Maguire released the blond hair and grabbed his victim's nose, squeezing tightly until the gunslinger had no choice but to open his mouth and gulp in the much needed air. As soon as the mouth opened Maguire forced the liquid inside, clamping his hand over the lips in an effort to keep his prisoner from spitting the liquid back out. He repeated the process until the cup was empty and the bound man was coughing and gasping for breath. "It would've been so much easier on you if you'd only drank it and sat back to enjoy the experience."

"G...go to h...hell," Larabee gasped weakly, his chest heaving as he drew in the much needed oxygen.

"I assure you that is where I will end up someday. I have pledged my soul to the devil and received the strength to do what I need to do. It's a bargain I will continue to benefit from, Chris, and you are the stepping stone that will help me be strong for my destiny. Rest now because once the drug takes effect there will be little rest for you until it runs its course."

"Bastard!"

"You'll call me worse than that before we're through," Maguire grinned as he walked back to the fire. "Much worse."

Chris closed his eyes against the pain and nausea, knowing the drug Maguire forced on him was already starting to affect his vision. He groaned as a throbbing ache built in his head and tried to ignore the voice that continued to tell him of their future together. He lost the fight with the nausea and a thin stream of vomit erupted from his mouth.

"Dammit, I should make you take more of it," Maguire snapped as he walked backed to his victim. "We'll wait a little while and see if there was enough left in you to produce the effects I want," he laughed as the green eyes dulled with pain. "Relax and let the drug work for you, Chris. I can guarantee you won't be disappointed in its effects. Or Should I say I won't?"

They rode fast and hard, knowing their leader matched the descriptions of Robert Maguire's other victims. Each man prayed their friend was safe and they'd find him working on the place they considered his little piece of heaven.

Vin rode slightly ahead of the others, his worry and fear for his friend causing him to keep the pace fast and furious. He followed the trail he'd covered many times before and soon pulled Peso to a halt in the clearing that surrounded the tiny shack. His eyes drifted to the horse standing in the corral. It seemed so natural, yet something felt out of kilter as he dismounted and hurried towards the animal.

"Something's wrong." Wilmington hurried towards the corral and stood beside the tracker.

"I'm gonna check the house, Buck."

Wilmington nodded and tried to ignore the look of guilt in the tracker's eyes. "Vin, we could be wrong," he said, not believing his own words but needing to say them anyway.

Tanner nodded as he watched the other four men search the surrounding area for any signs of the gunslinger. He walked to the small house and opened the door. He stepped into the gloomy interior, knowing instinctively that Chris wasn't there. His eyes swept over the inside, coming to rest on the small bed, the empty table, the cold stove. Dammit, Cowboy, where are you? the thought, leaving the house to join the others. He stopped as his eyes fell on a dark stain on the step leading into the house. He reached down and touched it, knowing instinctively it was blood. He called the others over and showed them his discovery.

"Vin, can you see if you can pick up a trail?" Wilmington asked, his eyes drifting to the darkening sky overhead.

Tanner nodded slightly and moved to search the area.

"JD, you ride back to town and tell Mary we didn't find Chris but we're going to keep searching for him."

"Buck I want to..."

"Look, Kid, I know you want to help search but someone's gotta stay in town in case Chris returns," Wilmington snapped.

"Easy, Brothers. We don't need to be at each other's throats right now. If Brother Chris is in trouble we need to work together to get him out of it. Buck, if JD really wants to go with you I can go back to town and let Mary know what's happening."

"Thanks, Josiah," Dunne said gratefully.

"Alright, Kid, you come with us. Josiah, as soon as we find out anything we'll try and let you know. Hopefully Vin will find the trail pretty quickly." The ladies' man said, knowing in his heart that Chris Larabee was in danger and he was pretty certain where that danger came from. He looked toward the side of the shack and his eyes met those of the tracker. He knew Vin felt the same way he did. Robert Maguire was a madman who preyed on men fitting Chris's description. Now Chris was missing and there was blood on the step leading to his home. Stay alive, Pard, we'll find you, he silently vowed.

Chris knew the things he was seeing weren't really there, but it didn't make it any easier for him. He heard Maguire's soft laughter as the first of the nightmarish creatures appeared before him. He recognized most of them as animals, but they'd become distorted and gruesome as a result of the nightshade's influence. A large bear with the head of a cat hissed as it raced towards him out of the fire. He squeezed his eyes tightly only to open them to a new and even more terrifying sight. A man stood before him holding a woman's head, her long blond hair streaked with red, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes beseeching him to help her. "N...no," the word barely passed his lips as the vision faded to be replaced by a snarling wolf. Its paw snapped out and Chris felt something sharp slash across his chest. He cried out as his head dropped forward and all visions stopped.

Maguire wiped the bloodied scalpel on his shirt. He knew what to expect from Larabee. Knew the drug caused horrific visions and saw the terror in his victim's green eyes. The fear and the pain succeeded in making the prisoner pass out. He reached up and tenderly placed his hand under the strong chin until he was looking into the face he knew so well. "I promise to show you just how much you can take before I take what is rightfully mine, Chris. Sleep for now and gain what little strength you can because our next meeting will involve a little more physical pain." He cleaned the shallow slash he'd made across the taut chest with whiskey before leaving his victim alone once more.

Chris opened his eyes and groaned as he shifted his arms, taking the weight off his shoulders. The fire no longer blazed and the meager light came from the embers glowing in the small circle of stones. He shifted uneasily, his back stiff and painful as he finally stood up straight. He looked around the cave, wondering if Maguire was hidden in the shadows, watching him, enjoying the discomfort he was in. He shivered as a cold chill wormed its way down his spine.

He didn't know how much time passed since the hallucinations ended. Cold fingers of dread trailed down his spine as he tried to forget the images he'd seen while under the influence of the drug. His stomach churned and his body trembled as one vivid memory returned. Vin Tanner's body dangling at the end of a rope, his bloodied clothing draped down his lifeless body. His blue eyes filled with resentment as his damaged throat cried out his anger at Chris Larabee. He trembled again as the words echoed threw his mind. Ya did this ta me, Chris, ya promised I wouldn't hang and then ya ran out on me. I'm dead 'cause of yer cowardice, Larabee. Strung up like some mangy dawg. All yer fault ya bastard! The cold dead eyes lacked the luster they held in life and somehow the gunslinger knew he'd never see them again.

"No, Vin, I didn't. I didn't run out on you," his weak voice echoed around the cavern. He coughed against the dryness of his throat, crying out as the movement pulled on his tethered limbs. His body shook as he rode out the pain in his shoulders and back. Breathing deeply, he fought hard to stave off the black curtain. The strong wave of nausea nearly choked him and he lost his battle, his tortured body slumped in defeat.

"Vin, are you alright?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"It's not me ya gotta worry 'bout, Buck," Tanner answered. "It looks like whoever..."

"What do you mean whoever? I thought we agreed it was Maguire?" Dunne asked.

"Look, JD, Chris has a lot of enemies out there and I think we'd best be ready for anythin'. I think it is Maguire but I want ta be sure. We can't just go inta this thinkin' it's that salesmen. We need ta find 'em and make sure we get Chris back in one piece," the tracker said. He bent low to the ground and found the tracks he was looking for. "Looks like he headed this way," he said and mounted Peso. He could hear the others do the same and he lead them away from his best friend's home. Something was different about the little shack, something he couldn't place his hands on. A shiver of dread ran down his spine as he thought of never sitting on the front porch and sharing a drink with the enigmatic gunslinger.

A drop of rain landed on the tracker's hand and he prayed the rain wouldn't get to the point where it washed away the tracks. Please, God, let us find him 'fore it's to late, he thought as more drops joined the one rolling down his hand.

Five men with a single purpose rode north away from Four Corners. That purpose was to find their leader and make whoever took him realize the error of their actions. Five sets of eyes glared angrily skywards as the clouds opened up and rain fell heavily around them. Determined to continue they pulled up their collars and hunkered down in their saddles as they raced after the sharpshooter.

Maguire sat on a blanket by the small fire, watching the unconscious man's labored breathing. Such perfection, he thought. He will live on through me. Through you my strength will grow, my life will be extended and I can fulfil my destiny, he smiled at the gunslinger. "Our destiny will be fulfilled and our lives shall be one." He checked the blade of the thin knife in the embers, more than satisfied when he saw the white heat pulsating off the metal. His earlier victims left him with an empty feeling inside, as if they lacked what he needed and their final death throes did nothing to earn them his respect. "You will, won't you, Chris?" he asked, tapping the pale cheek, his finger trailing along the furrow he'd made along Larabee's chest. He pressed firmly and elicited a low moan from the bound man. "It's time to wake up Chris," he whispered in the gunslinger's ear. "It's time to feel the fires of hell, feel them ignite on your bare skin. It's time for you to scream," his soft voice promised. "Oh, not the final scream, it's much to early for that, but this will be the first of many screams that will be dragged from your throat."

Larabee opened his eyes and tried to pull away from the hand touching his chest. "B...bastard!" he swore angrily. His weak voice still conveyed the strength of his soul and the promise he'd made earlier. He smiled as he saw the other man flinch slightly. "Will...kill...you," he warned.

Maguire swallowed deeply, amazed that even beaten, whipped and tied up this man still conveyed a strength and determination he'd never seen before. "I'm not afraid, Chris. I'm awed at your strength. I now know I made the right choice!" He once more pulled the scalpel from his pocket and sliced a thin line down the palm of his left hand. He watched as his own crimson fluid ran down his arm before placing the blade at the prisoner's left hand.

Chris felt the blade cut into his palm but didn't make a sound. The pain was minor compared to the other agony in his body. Every fiber of him was repulsed, when the madman sealed their bond in blood.

"Ah, Chris, now we are well and truly joined. Brothers by blood as well as destiny," the evil man laughed as his own blood mixed with Larabee's. "Our lives are forever joined, our souls destined to meet time and again in lifetimes to come." He released the gunslinger's hand and turned back to the fire. "I'm afraid the next part of the ritual is going to hurt you more than it does me."

He watched as the fire sparkled off the edge of the knife the madman pulled from the fire. The blade glowed with its own heat and light as his captor slowly walked towards him. Larabee couldn't help but cringe as the blade was placed before his eyes.

"I can see by the light in your eyes that you've experienced a hot blade before. The beauty of it is that the wounds will be cauterized immediately as long as I don't make them too deep," the face lit up expectantly as he lowered the blade to the gunslinger's abdomen. "Just feel the heat of fire, Chris," he whispered as he slowly, but forcefully drove the blade into the taut flesh of his victim's stomach. His eyes lit up in malicious glee as the bound man cried out.

An intense pain lanced through his stomach, igniting the agony in the rest of his body. He fought to get away, but his struggles were in vain.

Maguire withdrew the blade from the shallow wound and placed it on the writhing man's inner thigh.

Chris felt the fight slowly leaving his body as again and again the grinning man placed the blade against his body.

Maguire continued cutting and burning him at the same time. He knew he had to possess the gunslinger's soul. "Pain is a wonderful way to show a man how much he can take before it breaks him, Chris."

The pain continued, driving Larabee to the brink of madness until the glowing blade lost its heat. Chris sagged against the cords holding his hands, feeling the blood flow freely down his arms. He knew without looking that his wrists were torn and raw from his struggles to get away from the madman before him.

"Was that good for you, Chris?" Maguire's face was filled with awe as he watched the blond man. The resemblance to his first victim, his father, was amazing. The blond hair, the green eyes, the handsome face, the taut muscles were so much like the man who'd beaten him. Yet that was where the similarities ended. Where his father was a cruel, malicious man who enjoyed beating on his son, Chris Larabee was a man with a tortured past. A man who lost his family to a senseless act of a woman whose love he didn't return.

He continued to watch as the green eyes slid closed, knowing that his victim was stronger than most men faced with such loss. He proved that strength time and again by rising above the tragedy. Maguire was able to see the vulnerable side of the man in black the moment he felt those intense green eyes light on him in town. "I'll leave you to reflect on your pain, Chris. I won't even force the Nightshade on you right now because I can see you're in enough pain without it. I'll be back in a couple of hours," he promised.

Larabee watched through hooded eyes as the man left the cavern, leaving him to suffer his pain alone. He looked up at the cords above his head and once more tried to pull his hands free. The only thing he succeeded in doing was cause himself more pain. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift towards exhausted sleep. There was nothing he could do until he rested and let his body regain some strength. 'I'll get you, Maguire,' he vowed as darkness beaconed once more.

Rain fell around them, filling each man with a sense of dread as the tracker pulled up in front of an abandoned homestead. They knew there was no way they could continue on, the trail was now wiped away by the heavy rainfall. The sky overhead was devoid of stars as black clouds added to the bleakness in their hearts.

"Vin, there's nothing else we can do until the storm ends," Jackson assured the young sharpshooter, as they pulled in front of the battered barn.

Tanner nodded and slowly dismounted, an icy feeling of impending doom running down his spine. He knew in his heart Maguire was the one who'd taken the gunslinger. He swore under his breath, cursing the rain that usually soothed his own burning soul. The cleanliness he usually felt emanating from the earth after a hardy rainfall was replaced by a feeling of utter helplessness. The tracks they were following would be wiped out. He stood before the doors and let the rain wash over him in an effort to get his mind thinking clearly. Somehow they needed to find Chris Larabee before it was too late.

Buck led his horse into the rundown barn, securing him to one of the posts before leaning his aching head against the animal. Dammit, Chris, what's he doing to you? he thought. His mind conjured up images of the other men who'd fallen victim to the so-called salesman. He knew wherever the gunslinger was he was in a great deal of pain. He felt it as easily as if it was his own. They'd been friends a long time and although he didn't share the same strong link as Vin did with Chris, he could still sense when the other man needed him. I'll find him, Sarah, don't you worry about that, he silently vowed.

Nathan led his horse inside and secured it to the one of the posts, He quickly found a lantern hanging beside the door. He rattled it, surprised to hear oil slosh around in the base. Reaching in his jacket he felt the tin box he kept handy and lit a match. The soft glow from the lantern lit up the debris cluttered shelter. His dark eyes roamed around until they saw a small pile of dry hay in a darkened corner of the rundown barn. He walked towards it and grabbed an armful and placed it before the horses. He watched through tired eyes as each man cared for his animal.

It wasn't long before the horses were settled for the night and the five men headed for the battered house. Buck shoved the door open and stepped inside. Nathan came in behind him holding the lantern high above his head.

The interior of the house was covered in broken furniture and littered with other debris. The bare walls and ceiling were covered in cobwebs. Jackson watched as a spiders shadow grew large in the glare of the lantern's light. He moved further into the room, shaking his head at the boarded windows and the layers of thick dust covering the floors. A small doll sat in one corner, the clothes torn and the eye sockets empty. He stepped forward and picked up the toy. He wondered if somewhere a small child might be wondering where the doll was. He shivered as he looked into the empty sockets as Maguire's dark eyes swam in front of his vision. Where are you, Chris, he thought as he dropped the broken form back to the floor.

The others were cold and wet; a fire was needed to take away the chill. Vin Tanner stepped over and investigated the spacious fireplace. His weary blue eyes looked up into the fireplace and made sure the flue was open. Satisfied it wasn't in danger of catching fire he cleared the broken glass and debris from the base. The exhausted tracker silently moved around the room gathering enough of the broken wood to start a small fire. White light bathed the darkness as firelight joined the lantern's tiny flame. He knew by the haggard faces of the four men they wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. He sighed heavily as he thought back on the first day Robert Maguire entered their lives. Chris Larabee's instincts were right about the newcomer and now he was paying the price. One look at Buck's expressive blue eyes told him the ladies' man felt the same way.

Standish stood off to one side, hiding the worry that surged through his mind. These new friends showed him there were other things to life besides a sharp con or the nifty turn of a card. Larabee gave him a chance even after he cheated the men in the saloon. He was surprised by the man again when he gave him a second chance at the Seminole village. Since then he swore he would stick with them and do what he could to help. He felt a special bond surrounding them all, molding them into a force to be reckoned with. An intense sense of belonging was what he felt since becoming part of the seven. Something he'd never felt in his life. Don't run out on us, Chris, we'll find you and kill that bastard, he silently vowed.

JD stood by the boarded window. Growing up in Boston did little to prepare him for the harsh realities of frontier life. In the short span of time he lived in Four Corners he'd seen men killed for little or no reason. He saw families forced from their homesteads by brutal men who cared only about themselves. The six men he worked with were his new family and he hated when one of them was injured. Now Chris was missing and most likely in the hands of a maniacal killer. JD remembered reading about a man who liked to torture others and his body trembled involuntarily. The man was hanged for his crimes but there was no way to bring back the victims. The face of the victim he caught a glimpse of floated before his eyes and he closed his eyes to blot out the sight.

"Hey, Kid, are you alright?"

Dunne opened his eyes and looked at the moustached man. He swallowed against a dry throat and slowly nodded his head. "I...I'm fine, Buck," he stammered

"You coulda fooled me," Wilmington smiled thinly.

The easterner turned his face back to the furious storm taking place on the other side of the splintered pane of glass. "How can people hurt each other like that, Buck?" he asked softly.

Wilmington knew the youngest member of the seven was thinking about the article Mary found. He often wondered about the same thing when he came across similar cruelties against man or animal. "I don't know, Kid. Sometimes people are just bad inside and there's nothing anyone can do to stop them. Maguire..."

Dunne's face came up at the name, his youthful eyes brimming with unshed tears. "How could he fool me, Buck! I mean I bought something for Casey off that Bastard!"

"He took us all in, JD. He pulled the wool over our eyes and stabbed us in the heart when we weren't looking..."

"He didn't fool Chris or Vin. I saw the way Chris looked at him. He didn't trust that salesman..."

"JD." Jackson placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You can't blame yourself. Chris wouldn't want you thinking that way. We have to stick together and we'll find him."

"What if Chris is already...?" the Bostonian couldn't finish the sentence.

"Chris ain't dead, Kid." The tracker vowed with a trace of venom.

"How do you know, Vin?" Dunne asked.

"'cause I can still feel him in here," the sharpshooter touched his heart. "He's out there and he's alive. Maguire's doin' things to 'im and he's hurtin'. Hurtin' bad, but he's waitin' fer us and we ain't gonna let 'im down. Are we?"

"N...no," the kid answered and followed the others to the fireplace. Five sets of eyes gazed intently into the open flames. Each man thinking of the missing members of the group. One safe in the town they called home, the other in the hands of a madman.

Maguire stood in front of the window as the horizon brightened with the onset of dawn. He was eager to see his victim, to share more of his own life with him. The time of reckoning was almost on hand and he would own the unownable. He wanted Larabee ready for his death. His plans would take place on the anniversary of the death of his first victim. "Two days, Chris, two days."

He turned back to the table and picked up the bottle containing the remaining drug from the Nightshade plant. He lifted the bottle, grateful that one of his victims was a well known chemist in the east. The man's disappearance nearly cost Maguire his life, but he'd managed to escape before the noose tightened around his neck. He felt the lingering scar made by the coarse rope and smiled. The two men who decided they could take matters into their own hands were feeding vultures in the dessert. Their bones picked raw by the carnivorous birds as the sun baked whatever flesh remained.

A sardonic smile twisted the corners of his mouth. He glanced around the cabin, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the smell emanating from the back room. He placed the dead members of the family in there, but now the stink was overwhelming. He realized his mistake too late and now refused to go into the room. The door was closed, but it didn't stop the sickly smell of rotting flesh from reaching the well kept living room.

Maguire hurried to the front door and pulled it open. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell of rain drenched soil as he sat on the porch. He looked at the bottle in his hand, his eyes grew serious as he looked towards the trail leading to the cave. Today marks the beginning of the end, he thought.

Chris Larabee was no fool. He knew he had to escape before Maguire returned. His body was rapidly weakening and pain seemed a natural state for him now. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt swollen. He knew his tormentor could return at any minute and tried to concentrate on making good his escape.

He struggled against the bonds, unable to remember how many times he tried the same thing. His fingers were numb and his wrists stung as the cords continued to dig deeper. "SON OF A BITCH!" he shouted in frustration as he lost the little strength he had. He hung in the darkness, alone, and in misery.

He wondered how much time passed since he became a victim of Robert Maguire's twisted mind. Hours, days, or weeks?; there was no way for him to tell. His eyes closed and his mind drifted to the day they'd come together as a group.

Vin Tanner, was an ex-bounty hunter with a price on his head. A man who grew up fast and hard, but still refused to become a victim. If eyes were the windows to the soul then Vin's soul had a space reserved for it amongst the angels. The young man gave his friendship and trust to him with a simple nod of his head. He hoped and prayed he'd feel that simple method of communication once more.

Josiah Sanchez, was an ex-preacher with a troubled past. He was a hard man to read and still refused to share much about himself. Chris respected that. He knew what it felt like to have others speak of your private life. Even with the little he knew of the man he felt he could be trusted.

Buck Wilmington, a man he knew from his younger, rowdier days. The days before Sarah entered his life and showed him what it meant to have a family. Buck stood up for him at his wedding and was there when his life crumbled. The ladies' man held him back when he would've thrown himself into the flames. He knew in his heart he was too late, but Buck was there to save him. He cursed his tall friend high and low, blaming him for not letting him join his family in their fiery death. He regretted pushing Buck out of his life. Regretted losing the one living reminder of the happiness he'd shared with Sarah and Adam. A smile crossed his pale face as he remembered discovering his friend was in Four Corners. Their friendship was back and stronger than ever.

Nathan Jackson, was an ex-slave and Union stretcher bearer. The healer skill was short changed in that he wasn't a real doctor, his skin color made that difficult. Chris knew in his heart this was true. He prayed someday people would get past their prejudices, and see beyond skin color or religion. Nathan's hands were strong and skilled, Chris Larabee trusted them further than any doctor with a degree on his wall.

Ezra Standish, was a gambler with a penchant for cheating. A shrewd manueverer who could con a blind man into buying a book. A man who was still trying to get out from under his Mother's influences. Chris saw beyond the cheating gambler facade. He glimpsed the man Ezra really was, someone he would trust to watch his back now that they understood each other. He remembered the day at the Seminole Village. The words he grated out in anger and frustration. 'Don't ever run out on me again,' he thought, and although he'd been tempted the gambler stood with them time and again.

Chris felt a small smile forming as he thought of the youngest member of the group. JD Dunne arrived on the stage, carrying nothing but his saddle. The kid had something to prove from the very beginning. The fancy clothing on the young Bostonian shouted that he was a greenhorn, a tenderfoot and new to the ways of the west. At the Seminole village, the youth proved he was willing to do anything to protect his friends.

Larabee pushed himself to a standing position, taking the weight off his shoulders once more. The dampness of the cave coupled with his lack of clothing caused shivers to course through his body. Somehow he was going to stay alive for them. There was no way he was going to let them find his dead body, strung up in a cave.

The darkness was so complete he couldn't see his own body. As the pain pulsed, his eyes narrowed; a distinct sound told him that his tormentor was back. He fought to keep his trembling body from reacting in anticipation. A spark of light forced his eyes closed.

"The time of reckoning is almost at hand, Chris," Maguire said as he lit the fire. "This will not be a long visit. I've come with food and water for you. Just a little of each. Enough to keep you alive a little longer. This food is safe," he explained as he poured a thin broth into a pot. "...for now." he teased of the drug to be given later. "Right now I think it's time you understood who I am and why you were chosen."

Larabee listened to the hated figure, the words grating on his frazzled nerves. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and let the all encompassing anger come to the front. He gripped the cords around his wrists and snapped them.

Maguire watched the face as new emotions overrode the ones he wanted to see. Instead of pain and weariness, newfound fire blazed in the twin green beacons. He wanted this man's soul. However the eyes he looked into now seemed a harbinger of hatred and the promise of suffering. He held the look as long as he could, but was forced to turn away as the blond's gaze never wavered.

Shaking off the nervous tension, the serial killer picked up the thin broth and walked towards his near naked victim. "I have something for you."

"D...drink it yourself," Larabee hissed forcefully.

"It's only broth, Chris. It really won't hurt you. I want to tell you something about myself before I send you on another trip. Now, please tell me I don't have to resort to force feeding you again?"

The prisoner's eyes remained focused on his tormentor. His breathing was shallow as he realized there was nothing he could do to stop Maguire from forcing the liquid down his throat. He clamped his mouth shut in an effort to stop the other man, knowing to give in would be admitting the enemy controlled everything about him.

"So be it, Chris," Maguire forced the head back, pinching the nose and forcing the salty liquid into the injured gunman.

Dark spots swam before his eyes as he fought to keep from drinking. The gunslinger tried not to swallow, but eventually the need to breathe won out. As the last of the broth flowed down his throat he filled his lungs over and over with air.

"I didn't lie, Chris, it's only broth. Do you want a little water?"

"D...don't w...want anything f...from you," he snarled as his chest heaved painfully.

"Have it your way for now," Maguire walked back to the fire, warding off the chill of the cave. He opened a bottle of whiskey and took a sip. "You really should have accepted this bottle that day on the trail. It would've been the last bottle of your life. Oh, well, I guess I'll have to enjoy it myself."

Larabee watched as the whiskey disappeared from the bottle. His body craved the soothing alcohol, but he refused to let this man see it. He let his eyes slide shut and prayed the others would find him soon. He knew the salesman would kill him soon, but until then he'd keep his wits about him and try to escape.

Vin saddled Pony as the sun showed its rays above the horizon. The rain stopped shortly after dawn and he knew they needed to get moving. Something was driving him northwards, telling him that time was running out for Chris Larabee. He recalled the day they met on the street and with just a slight nod moved to save a man's life. A man neither of them knew at the time, but grew to respect as a healer and an individual.

That same link was affecting him now. There was no way he could explain it and if asked he'd probably deny it existed. His time among the Indians was well spent and he learned things didn't always come with an explanation. This was one of those things and he prayed it would not desert him now. He tightened the cinch around Peso and looked at his companions.

"The tracks have been wiped out, Vin," Wilmington observed.

"I know," Tanner muttered.

"Should we split up?" Dunne asked.

"No," the tracker's voice was adamant as he looked at each man, stopping when his gaze landed on the ladies' man. The trust the blue eyes conveyed with just a look was enough for Vin to tell them what he felt. "We keep going north."

Wilmington nodded, trusting in the sharpshooter's special friendship with the gunslinger to find him. He knew there was something special between the two men from the moment he saw them together on the boardwalk. He trusted Vin with his life and now he was trusting him with the life of Chris Larabee. "Mount up," he ordered softly.

"Josiah?"

Sanchez looked up from the bible he was trying to read. His mind kept wandering and he knew it was a lost cause. He smiled as Mary Travis walked into the small church. "Is there something I can do for you, Mary?"

"I just wondered if there was any word from the others?"

"Nothing yet, Mary."

"I've found out a couple of other things about Maguire. It seems his father disappeared under strange circumstances," her soft eyes were filled with anger as she looked at the ex-preacher. "How could we not have seen who he really was?"

"He had us all fooled. From what the article says he's been doing this a long time. He really did work for that catalogue company. Unfortunately it went out of business years ago. It belonged to his father."

"I should've checked into it more. Chris didn't seem to like him much."

"Chris has an uncanny sense when it comes to trusting people." He watched the shoulders slump and the eyes mist with tears. "Mary, you had no way of knowing." Sanchez wrapped his arms around the sobbing woman, holding her close as she cried for the man she'd grown so fond of. He knew there were feelings between her and Chris Larabee, yet neither one would admit to them. Don't let it be too late for them, Lord, he silently prayed.

"I chose you because you met my eyes the day I came in Four Corners. You refused to look away. I felt that strength and pride you have. Your unmitigated gall intrigued me. No one has ever been able to stare me down since I killed the bastard who called himself my father, but you did it that day. You know your abilities and you refuse to bow down to anyone. Oh, don't get me wrong. If it was just that I would've left you alone. I never would've stayed in your quaint little town." He picked up the half bottle of whiskey and walked towards his victim. "So I guess you've made your own fate. You should've turned away. Instead you showed me my twin spirit. I could've been like you, you know. I could've given up the life I chose and married a beautiful woman, but my father kept taunting me. Kept telling me I had to fulfil my destiny. He looked a lot like you, Chris. The same hair color, the same green eyes, he even had the same build, although he probably had a few pounds on you," Maguire guzzled down more of the whiskey as he studied the gunslinger. "He used to beat me all the time. He told me it was for my own good."

Larabee listened to the droning voice, ignoring the faint ray of sympathy he felt for a child who'd been beaten. He remembered his own childhood and how he'd been beaten, sometimes unjustly, yet he overcame those obstacles. "Y...you didn't have to..."

"To what? Turn out like my father? Is that what you were gonna say, Chris?" Maguire asked, continuing before the other man could answer. "I didn't turn out like my father. I turned out better, stronger, and smarter. I showed my father how pathetic he was when I took his soul. The only problem was I killed the son-of-a-bitch too soon. I should've made him suffer. Maybe he would've prevented all of this if I'd heard him scream. You'll do that though, Chris. You'll scream with your dying breath and I'll be waiting for you. I've been keeping a journal over the years. I've sent it to a friend of mine. She'll keep it and my boy safe until the day I come for them. I'll be able to teach him everything I know when he's old enough. If anything happens to me before you die then he'll have my diary to guide him through his life."

"Kid d...deserves b...better...father," the gunslinger muttered tiredly. His head reeled backwards as a devastating right fist connected with his left cheek. He tasted blood in his mouth and knew the inside of his cheek was cut by his teeth.

"Don't you ever say that again. My boy will know how much he means to me. He'll know I'm doing this for him. I'll make sure of that and I won't leave him alone so some woman can burn him alive." He knew his words were vicious and he grinned as he walked back to the fire. "The truth hurts doesn't it, Larabee. You know it's all your fault that your family is dead. You see I did my homework on you. I found out just what I needed to confirm that you were the right one. You fought against evil and won, but that was before you met me. It's time for you to take another trip. I hope you get to relive their final moments. I hope you hear them scream as the fire burns them alive in its unholy heat." He grabbed a fistful of dirty blond hair and twisted it painfully. "I hope you enjoy yourself, Chris."

The captive felt the brackish liquid flow down his throat as he tried to pull away. Maguire strong hands held him tightly as the last of the fire burned down his throat. A hand clamped tightly over his mouth and nose and he nearly passed out.

Maguire released his hold on the gunslinger and stood back to watch. The green eyes seemed to lose focus as harsh retching sounds emanated from his victim's throat. He moved out of the way and waited for the vomiting to pass. He knew the affects of the Nightshade would linger even though most of it was purged from the gunslinger's body. His eyes glistened smugly as he walked towards the entrance. "Enjoy your trip down memory lane, Chris. I'll be back tomorrow."

Larabee's eyes focused on something only he could see. The barn, the barely moving windmill, the panicked horses, and the blazing fire that was his home. He bolted off his horse and ran for the burning house. Strong hands grasped his arms and wrestled him to the ground. His eyes widened as two flame engulfed figures stepped from the devastation. "Sarah! Adam!NO!" He fought with all his strength to get away from the strength he found himself embraced in. Words were shouted in his ears, but he chose to ignore them in his haste to save his heart and soul. The two figures screamed and fire shot from their dying mouth as Chris Larabee's final scream erupted in the lighted cavern. He slid towards unconsciousness, damning Maguire's name for all eternity.

Maguire grinned as the anguished cry reached his ears. He placed the brush and rocks back in place, covering the entrance but only muffling the cries of pain from within.

Wilmington pulled his horse to a halt. His eyes shifted left and right as he fought back the memories. He had no idea why his mind was conjuring up images from years ago. Images of fire, death and pain. The fight to keep his friend from dying with his family. Knocking the blond out in order to keep him from running into the flames. He shivered as he remembered the pain in those green eyes and the anger and hurt on the handsome face. His head shot up as he realized he'd heard the blond's cries. Heard him call out for Sarah and Adam, yet it was impossible. He watched as three men rode on but one stopped and turned to him.

"Buck?"

"Vin, I heard him. I don't mean out loud. I heard him in here," Wilmington pointed to his head. "He's dying, Vin, we gotta find him."

"I know. I feel it too. We have ta keep searchin'. He's close by."

"Vin, Buck, is everything all right?"

Wilmington looked at the healer and then back to the tracker. "I...I don't know, Nathan. I just had a bad feeling."

"I think we all did," Standish observed of his companions' pale faces. Without a word the five men returned to the task of finding Chris Larabee.

The prisoner opened his eyes to complete, utter darkness. There was no warmth left inside the cavern and he knew the fire must've been out for a long time. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't obey his commands. The memories brought on by the drug Maguire forced on him ravaged his heart. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he thought about the night his life was shattered. He recalled the angry words and names he shouted at Buck Wilmington. He knew his oldest friend was suffering through his own pain and guilt that night, but it didn't matter at the time. Chris needed to hurt someone and he was the only one there. "I'm sorry, Buck," he whispered into the darkness. His body shuddered and he knew death was coming. It surprised him that he didn't want to give into its call. His eyes slid closed and his body sagged against the cords. Fresh blood trickled from his wrists, but he'd already surrendered to the darkness surrounding him.

Maguire wrinkled his nose as he sat on the chair by the open window. The smell of decay surrounded him and he knew the time was at hand. Chris Larabee would soon be released from the hell he lived on earth. He sighed as he looked at the shiny blade in his hand. The Scalpel served him well, but for the next stage in the game it wouldn't do. His bare hands would be the only thing used to bring on that final, soul wrenching scream. The one that would end his own search for his destiny. The one that would seal his fate with the devil. He looked at the cut on his hand, frowning at the swelling he saw there. He knew it was infected, yet he felt no pain, no horror. He knew once Larabee was dead all his mortal wounds would be healed. An insane smile slowly washed over his face as he stood up and left the farmhouse for his final journey with destiny.

They spent a restless night, each man wondering whether they'd find their friend alive. The words Mary Travis read them reverberated through their minds. Whipped, burned, and cut, that's what the papers said. Somehow they knew Chris was suffering from the same fate in the hands of a maniac. They were up before dawn, horses saddled and ready to move out before the first rays of the sun made waste to the darkness of night.

Vin searched the ground. They were travelling steadily northwards, scanning for any sign of Maguire. His feeling were confirmed earlier in the day when he'd found a distinctive mark in the hard packed soil. The hot mid day sun dried the tracks and made it easy to read. The tracker knew the markings and knew they'd found the wagon Chris was using to transport lumber for the repairs to the shed.

"Has your perusal of the ground established whether or not we are searching in the right direction?" Standish asked.

Vin and the others knew Ezra Standish hid behind five dollar words. He used them from their first meeting, hoping to distance himself from the men he worked with. Little by little the six men wormed their way into his life. They were his family and although he tried to hide it he cared what happened to them.

"Looks like he came this way. Those tracks match the ones belonging to the one Chris borrowed from Yosemite," Tanner told them. He remounted Peso and headed the horse in a northerly direction once more, four men followed anxious to find their missing member.

Maguire pulled the wagon up to the entrance to the cave. He looked into the back of the wagon, smiling at the things he'd placed there. The family he killed provided well. He now had food enough to last him through his trip back east. He wanted to be with his son, to teach him the strengths of a man and how important it was to complete one's path in life.

He reached into the back of the wagon and picked up a crystal lantern. He lifted the glass dome and touched a match to its wick. He walked towards the entrance to the mine, a slight upwards slant of his mouth did nothing to take away from the evil glint in the hard eyes.

"Are you awake, Chris?" he asked as he entered the cavern. The only answer to reach his ears was the painful wheezing breath of the man he owned. He lifted the lantern and let its faint light illuminate the man hanging from the ceiling of the cavern. Blood, dirt and sweat mingled on his ravaged torso, arms and legs. "The time is at hand, Chris. It's time for both of us to seek out and find our destiny," a small laugh left his throat. "Neither one of us has far to look."

The tortured man slowly became aware of a pinpoint of white light before his eyes. Shadows formed around it and he tried to make them out. He took shallow breaths in an effort to ease the tight feeling in his chest. He'd been coughing up crud and knew he was dangerously close to pneumonia, but still he couldn't give up. He heard one of the moving shadows speaking and tried to understand what was being said. A face swam before his own and he looked into the reality of his destiny. He knew this man would kill him, there was no doubt of that now. His hands were numb, his legs felt like rubber and his body felt on fire. There wasn't an inch that didn't hurt, a part of him that didn't understand how painful his death would be. He wouldn't give in easily, but he knew this man would do his damndest to make him scream. Biting back the pain and the fear he looked into the eyes of his personal demon.

Chris Larabee was not a man to give up and with the last ounce of strength he could muster he snarled, "I'll see you in Hell, Maguire, and I'll make you pay for all eternity."

Robert Maguire was unable to keep the fear from entering his eyes. This man still held more fight in him than all his precious victims combined. He had no doubt if he were to release him, Chris Larabee would make good on his threat. He moved away from his victim before the man could read his fear and see the tremble in his legs. He placed wood in the small circle of ashes and lit it. Firelight sprang forth and forced back the demonic shadows. He waited until his trembling subsided and the slight fear dissolved. Taking a deep breath he turned back to his prisoner. "Are you strong enough to meet me in hell, Chris?"

Larabee glared through glazed eyes, the power behind his force shining through in the deep emotional stare. "Strength has n...nothing to do with it, Maguire. It's w...what's in my h...heart and the hearts of my f...friends that will stop y...you. I have no p...problem with d...dying, but I will not help you meet your d...destiny."

"You may say that, Chris, but you won't have a choice." He reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew a silver flask.

The light glinting off the flask reminded Chris of Ezra Standish, the enigmatic gambler always had his flask handy.

Maguire grabbed a handful of blond hair, tilting the head backwards once more. He forced the gunslinger's mouth open and force fed him the water.

The captive coughed in order to rid his body of the familiar tasting liquid. The nightshade drug raced through his body, but not to the point where he was sick. His vision blurred but soon righted itself and his eyes once more focused on his hated enemy. "Y...you're a d...dead man!" he growled through his burning throat.

"No, Chris, you are!" with those softly spoken words, Chris Larabee knew his torment was about to get worse.

"There's a house just ahead," Dunne called over his shoulder. They'd been riding steadily harder, each man scenting the unseen blood trail that would lead them to Robert Maguire and eventually Chris Larabee.

They rode into the yard, their eyes flashing around the area in search of movement.. There was no activity in the house, barn, or surrounding grounds. The five men dismounted and moved to search the area. Buck and JD headed for the barn, Ezra, Nathan, and Vin moved towards the house.

Buck carefully opened the heavy doors and moved inside, JD close at his heels. They searched the stalls, finding two horses and a cow, her utters heavy with milk. JD moved to the hayloft and climbed the ladder. The musty smell of hay greeted his nostrils as his head moved past the floor. Nothing moved in the loft and JD backed carefully down the rungs.

"Anything?" Wilmington asked, moving towards another closed in area.

"Nothing," JD answered dejectedly.

Nathan reached out and grabbed the sharpshooter's arm before he opened the door. "Do you smell that?"

"Smells like something dead," Tanner observed flatly. He noticed the strong odor as soon as they came abreast of the house. Thoughts of finding Chris Larabee's dead body crossed his mind but he didn't give voice to those thoughts.

"Surely you don't think it's Mr... think it's Chris?" Standish stumbled over his words.

"Chris ain't dead, Ez. If he was I'd know it," the sharpshooter assured the gambler. He opened the door and the odor became cloying in the sickening heat of the interior. Vin pulled a bandana from around his neck and held it over his mouth and nose. They entered the house, their eyes raking over the damaged furniture, the torn clothing, broken dishes and rotted food.

Nathan moved to the center of the room and knelt beside a brown stain. "Blood," he mumbled as he watched the sharpshooter walk towards one of the doors, Standish headed for the second one.

The gambler's stomach churned at the grizzly sight revealed by the open door. He gagged and turned away, tears in his eyes as he looked at the healer. "Mr. Jackson, I believe I have discovered the reason for the..." he didn't have to finish as Jackson stood beside him.

Nathan was transported back to his days as a stretcher bearer. The sight before him made his heart lurch and his stomach churn. Four bloodstained bodies lay in a crumpled heap in the center of the room. The stench assaulted their nostrils and caused nausea to build inside them. Nathan held the bandana over his mouth and nose and forced himself to walk into the room. He felt dizzy, yet he knew he had to make sure. "They've been dead at least a couple of days," he informed his friends. "Looks like someone just kept firing at them," he said as he noted the multiple bullet wounds in the bodies.

"Nathan?" Tanner said softly.

"What?"

"We can come back ta bury them. We really need ta find Chris."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Tanner," Standish's voice was muffled through the silk bandana he held over his face.

"Nathan, Vin, Ezra, where... Oh, God," Dunne cried, rushing from the room as bile filled his mouth.

"JD!" Buck exclaimed as the young Bostonian rushed past him. He didn't need an explanation once he looked into the room. His own stomach kicked at him and he fought down the nausea. "Oh, Hell," he swore. "Is Ch...?"

"He's not here," Tanner assured him. He took one last look at the family, said a silent prayer and turned to his friends. He knew in his heart they deserved a proper burial, but it would have to wait until they tended the living and he was sure Chris Larabee was still among them. "Let's see if'n we can pick up the trail. It looks like Maguire was stayin' here so Chris can't be far." He hurried from the room and out in the yard. His eyes fell on the youngest member of the group. The kid was splashing water from a hand pump, swiping his hands across his too pale face. "Are ya alright, JD?"

"F...fine, Vin."

"We're gonna go find, Chris. Ya okay ta ride." He smiled as the kid nodded once. Vin searched the ground until he found the tracks leading out of the yard.

Chris followed his tormentor as the man slowly circled him. He felt a hand on his back and cringed as the man slowly raked his nails down the lash marks. His shoulders slumped as a hand came down full force on the open wounds.

"You see, Chris, all it takes is for me to use my hands, my bare fists and sooner or later as the bones," he walked around to the front and drew back his fist, driving it into Larabee's already battered ribs. "Break," he finished as he heard the barely audible crack. He pulled back the opposite fist and did the same to the left side. This time eliciting a small cry from the injured man.

"B...bastard," the blond hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sh, Chris, that's not what I want to hear." Maguire circled again and threw a punch to his captive's lower back, over and over he struck, grinning as the cries of pain grew louder. Mottled blues, purples and blacks soon covered the gunslingers back from hip to hip. "Are you still with me, Chris?"

"G...go...t...'ell," Larabee gasped, pain lending strength to his words.

Maguire moved to stand in front of the injured man once more. Using his open hands he slapped the pale cheeks, gaining momentum as Larabee glared at him through pain filled eyes. "You will scream for me, Chris."

"N...no...n...never...h...pen," Larabee swore as his head lolled forward on his chest. His eyes were quickly losing focus as the mild dose of the nightshade drug began to take hold. Demons danced before his eyes, bloody corpses dressed in confederate soldier's uniform cursed him from beyond the grave. His stomach lurched, but there was nothing in it for him to lose.

Maguire grinned as dry heaves plagued his victim, causing him to cry out in distress. "We're close, Chris, real close. I can feel your strength leaving you. Pretty soon you won't care what I do as long as the pain and torment ends."

"N...n...no..." his weak voice lacked the confidence it once held as Maguire's fist connected with the right side of his chest. Fresh blood welled up from the long gash the insane man inflicted two days before. "V...V...Vin," he hissed as the battering assault continued. "B...B...Buck...will come..."

"They'll come, Chris, but when they do they'll find an empty shell. Your soul will be mine. They'll be left with your empty carcass." He stopped long enough to take a drink before moving to stand in front of his victim once more. His hand formed a fist and he pulled it back.

Chris knew the end was near, there was little doubt he was going to die. This man proved he was a master at pain and it was only a matter of time until his body could take no more. "S...sorry, Boys, c...can't w...wait much l...longer. N...need help," he mumbled as blood spilled from his split lip.

Vin followed the tracks, his stomach churning as he realized time was of the essence. He could feel the hopelessness of his friend. The desperate plea for help, the steel strength being sapped from the lean body. He spurred Peso in an effort to move faster, unaware the others were doing the same thing.

Josiah knelt in his church, his eyes closed, his eyes raised to the heavens. "Lord, I know I haven't done my penance for the wrongs I've done in this world, but I need your help now more than ever. Chris is a good man, although he's done things he regrets. He's been doing your work, Lord, maybe not the way you wanted it done, but he's doing good. This town's been cleaned up quite a bit since you saw fit to band the seven of us together. I'm praying for some of your Divine intervention in finding our friend. Don't let that...that madman do what he did to his other victims. Give Chris Larabee the strength he needs to hang on," he lapsed into silence as he struggled with his own wayward soul.

Tanner was the first to dismount in front of the familiar wagon. He was soon joined by four others and by silent agreement a search began. The area around the wagon was filled with fresh footprints and they had little trouble finding then opening in the rock.

"He's here," Tanner hissed, drawing his gun. "JD, Nathan, you stay out here in case there's trouble."

Nathan knew he was asking him to stay outside because of his medical knowledge. They all knew Chris would need his help once they got him away from Maguire. He simply nodded and stood to the side of the entrance.

JD wanted to protest, but when none was forthcoming from the healer he also remained silent.

"Buck, Ezra, follow me and keep an eye out."

Nathan and JD watched as the three men silently disappeared into the absolute darkness of the cave.