Hell's Fire by Anne Tolar, Winnie

The sun beat down on him, pulsing white heat stabbing through an already concussed head. He tried to swallow, but there was nothing in his mouth except the thick arid terrain of his tongue. Gritty sand coated his cracked lips, and he knew he was in desperate need of help. Blond hair was caked to his skull in a mixture of sand, sweat and blood as he lifted his head once more. His eyelids were heavy, but he knew he needed to get them open if he was to get help. Dull green eyes gazed about, as the ground seemed to shift around him. He forced his tongue between cracked lips, feeling the skin bleed as it parted. His body felt as dry as the ground he lay upon.

He knew he had to move, but something seemed to be making that impossible. He wondered why his arms and legs wouldn't obey his commands, and lifted his head once more. Four stakes, one at each wrist and ankle, thick rawhide strung between each limb to tether his limbs to each wooden peg gave him the answer.

"What the hell?" he rasped, but there was no answer to his question. Squinting hard in the blazing sun, he made out the shape of a man, sitting on his haunches, watching him as he woke. The man grinned maliciously at him.

"What the ..." His voice made no sound, his windpipe sore and aching, but he couldn't remember why.

"So, Larabee. Decide to live?"

"Who?"

"Shame if you don't remember me. I've hunted your miserable hide for too many damn years to send you to your maker or to hell without you knowing who I am and why I'm gonna kill ya. Don't you remember me?"

"Should I?"

"Yeah, ya should. Don't worry though. If you don't remember right off, there's plenty of time for me to help ya remember. You be sure and let me know when you get the least bit of memory back." He produced a canteen. "Help make sure your whistle's wet. Want to make sure you can speak up when the time's right." Chris drank, knowing it might be the last he got for a considerable time. The man produced a small blade, and still grinning, he made a first, thin cut down Chris' arm.

Chris hissed and pulled against the ropes. "Who...are you?"

"Don't even have a thought...maybe a likeness you recollect?"

"Can't see you. Sun's in my eyes." He'd decided his best bet might be to get the man talking. If he didn't, it was going to be one hell of a miserable day. It was mid-morning from the sun's position, and Chris didn't want the rest of the day to go the way of the last few minutes. He had to think of something, and think of it as he took the pain that was obviously coming, and he didn't have one clue who the bastard bent on torturing him was.

Chris watched as a shadow blocked out the searing heat from the bright orb directly overhead. He blinked furiously, feeling the dry scratchy sand grit against the inside of his eyelids. He tried to move again, but the rawhide seemed to cut into his skin.

"Wouldn't be doin' that ifn' I were you. All it's gonna do is pull them knots tighter. Yer gonna pay for what ya did...pay long...and hard, Larabee. Ya hear me?"

The voice was as unfamiliar as the face outlined above him, yet something nagged at his mind. He lifted his head and looked down at his body. His clothing had been removed and a loincloth covered his groin area. The sun was already painting his pale skin in a shade of pink that would turn to blazing red if he was left staked out in the sun much longer.

"Asked ya a question, Larabee, and I ain't one ta be ignored!" He punctuated his anger by delivering a vicious kick to the gunslinger's right knee.

Chris bit his cracked bleeding lip in an effort to bite back the cry of pain and glared up at his captor. The hair hung limp and dirty over the man's shoulders and a cruel scar ran from the edge of his lip to the tip of his right ear. The blond almost laughed at the way it appeared to be an extension of the man's mouth, giving him a sinister smile.

"So, ya gonna live, Larabee, or are ya ready ta die? Do you know who I am yet? Do you know where you are? Do you know where your six friends are? Are they staked out somewhere else, or are they already dead? Their blood soaking into the sand because of something you did..." He knelt beside the gunman, the knife reflecting the sun and nearly blinding his captive once more.

"Doesn't matter...by the time you figure it out you'll be beyond giving a damn anyway."

Chris couldn't hold back the cry as this time the knife slipped into his flesh. It sliced from his right elbow to his wrist, opening a gash that seeped more of his blood onto the ground, where the arid, hungry sand, lapped it up before the sun's rays set upon it.

Chris breathed hard, but then steeled himself. He didn't have the reputation he'd earned because he was a weakling. He spit his defiance at the man who was now pacing in circles around his prone form. "You want to maybe give me just one hint, you son-of-a-bitch? Why not tell me where the hell I am, if that's supposed to help me remember!"

"I can give it to ya...but it's gonna cost ya. Where's it coming next? Do I cut ya again, or think of something new?"

"Don't make no difference to me. You choose. Just remember, for every mark I carry out of here...it's one more bit of pain you take before you die. Just remember...cause you are going to die."

"You think you're going to be able to walk out of here. Takes a lot of guts to lay here in the open, trussed up like fresh kill, plum naked, telling me how you're gonna kill me? Let's see...I think I just might want to put one here."

The knife slashed across Larabee's cheek...fast and bloody. The blood ran into his ear then joined what was already spilled in the sand.

"Yeah, I think I like that. Bet you ain't ever been marked like that...spoil that face. Bet the women like that face, and you like them women, now don't ya! You remember me yet?"

Why his face? Chris looked at the scare on his tormentor's mouth, and something flashed just out of memory. He needed something to set this bastard back. "I think I am beginning to remember you."

"Ah, what you remember, Larabee? You remember Durango?"

Durango? the captive thought...and again flashes of the town came and went before he could latch onto them. It was so long ago, so many years, so many horrors faced and beaten.

"What's the matter, Larabee? Ya ain't ready to face them memories of yours. I can see it in your eyes, ya know. Think on it some more...think about two men...a bank note and a knife...one with a blade just like this one only it wasn't stained with your blood," the man said, using his fingers to wipe the evidence off the blade and wiping it across the scar on his own face.

"B...bas...tard!" the blond forced through dry cracked lips.

"I just might be one of those at that, Larabee, but it don't make no difference. Ya might wanna consider me your own personal devil and this here is Hell and you're gonna burn in Hell's fire. I'm gonna be just over yonder by that little creek, enjoying the shade..." He laughed as he saw the longing in the green eyes and reached for the canteen.

"Ya want something ta drink, before I go? A little water to help you think about what's waitin' just over there."

"Go...to...hell..."

"Told ya, yer already there." He lifted the blond head and held the canteen to the slack lips.

Chris could almost smell the water and before he could refuse he'd swallowed the first mouthful and his mind and body longed for more of the life giving moisture. All too soon the canteen was pulled away and the sun began to bake the water from his lips. He lifted his head and watched as his captor checked the rawhide that tethered him to the stakes.

"Seems they're working loose, Larabee, have to fix that." He opened he canteen once more and slowly poured it on each wrist and ankle, wetting the bonds in order to let the sun tighten them further.

Durango, two men, a bank note, and a knife. Chris closed his eyes, mostly to get the gate to his heated brain closed, but to lock out the fear and the man and let him think. He'd been in Durango maybe three times. Once, not so long ago, after the trail drive from hell. Buck had talked him into that. It reminded him that he still owed the big man one. He'd been there too while he was still mostly a kid, a young so-called deputy. He hadn't known any of his six friends then. But there had been another time as well. Two men, a bank note, and a knife. And Buck Wilmington, again, except that time, Buck wasn't exactly his friend. Buck had tried to hang him. He remembered the trouble with Buck...but that had turned out alright. He'd made it out alive and with a new friend. He still owed Buck big for that one.

But what was it about this particular man and Durango? Why was he sitting over on the bank of the small trickle of water people in this area would call a river. He thought a moment of the river near his home in Indiana and longed to taste the cool water that ran there. Any water would do, even the heavy stuff in that canteen. Chris licked his swollen lips and realized his tongue was getting larger in his mouth now. He forced himself to think...Durango?

Two men, a bank note, and a knife. He thought of the blade he'd seen close up as it approached his face. It was a razor sharp knife...thin blade...a skinning knife used for bears mostly so as not to mar the pelt. Chris remembered such a blade slicing thin squares from his torso. But that was Eldorado, Illinois...not Durango. "Okay, where else you been cut? Where else you have to knife fight a man? It's got to have something to do with knife fights and this man."

He mentally scanned his body, and he had to laugh. It had been pretty well marked in his life. "Just knife cuts, Larabee...just knives." There was one on his upper back, a couple on his side, and the squares on his chest and shoulders. All of them were from Fisk...they were all faded...Fisk had paid for every mark with his life. There was the one on his stomach from a saloon fight...that man was dead too. There was the nick on his groin, down there under the loin cloth...from a saloon gal who liked to play rough. She wasn't dead...at least that he knew, but he bet she didn't like knives anymore. He grinned a feral grin.

Then he thought about the one...the one in his lower back, five inches long, healed from way too deep, and too close to his kidney for comfort. Durango...no Buck that time...just two men in the street, blade to blade, over a stolen bag of money. He had been in and out of the town in less than two hours, and left the man lying in the street, thinking he was dead. He'd reached a little hole called Roanmesa before he pitched from the saddle and woke up days later in a little convent; where they nursed him slowly back to health. That one he remembered, and the weeks of hell trying to cure the infection from the dirty blade too. The face of his long time ago nemesis came back, younger, not meaner, just cockier and intent on his business, Chris breathed hard and muttered, "You're gonna die, you son of a bitch."

He seriously began to work on the rawhide. It was an animate thing, rawhide. It was tough, especially when wet, but it had its limits in power to hold him. He needed to find the weak point, and he needed to do it fast.

The sun was taking its toll on his body. Baking him in a version of hell made by the man with no name. The man who held his life in his hands, but for Chris Larabee nothing mattered, but ridding his wrists and ankles of the rawhide.

Rawhide, Hell, the sun, the man with no name...that was what his world centered on right now. He remembered his captor asking him about his friends and he tried to recall if any of them were with him when he'd been captured. He closed his eyes, wincing at the grit of sand against his eyes, wondering if he'd be blind by the time this all ended. It didn't matter, because either way the un-named man would be dead.

He'd waited years for this...so many times he dreamed of killing Chris Larabee. Of skinning him alive, taking his life by inches as he slid the thin blade under his skin and peeled it back. He smiled at the thought of hearing the great gunslinger beg for his life, to plead for the pain to stop, but that was not going to happen. Over the years he'd learned many ways to torture a man, to inflict pain long past the point where a man was even aware of it. This was only the beginning...staking him out in the sun, watching the tender flesh redden as the fiery orb overhead slid across the sky. Larabee would pay the price for the scar he'd left on his face. His hand touched his cheek, bringing hatred to the surface as he stood up, grabbed his canteen and headed back to his victim.

Chris continued to work on the rawhide, knowing to give in was to admit defeat, and Chris Larabee never admitted something like that. He would fight to his dying breath, and even then he'd continue to fight until his body was buried beyond the sunlight, in a darkness so deep it mirrored the darkness that sometimes invaded his heart and soul. He heard approaching footsteps and forced his lids past the grit and waited for the shadow he knew would fall across his heated skin.

"You remember yet, Larabee?" He poured precious water just past Chris' lips. It puddled and disappeared quickly into the sand.

"It seems to be coming a bit. Guess you weren't worth much memory time. I remember your face, but not your name, or exactly what should make me want to remember you."

The brute kicked him in the ribs until he tasted blood for the insult. Then he began to play with the knife. "I was you, I'd try hard to remember. Long as you put it off, that's more time I have to work on your memory and the rest of you too." He knelt by Chris balancing the tip of the blade against his gloved finger. He flipped it upward, grabbing the hilt in his fingers, and making sure it glinted in the sun overhead, he brought it down to sink into Chris' bare side.

The first truly serious cut, Chris pulled hard against the ropes and let himself scream. The sudden loss of blood in addition to his thirst and the heat of his body produced nausea, but he swallowed hard and refused to acknowledge the spinning of his head. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

"You left me in the middle of the street, Larabee. Remember that? After you cut my face and near cut my lung out, you just walked off and left me there to die."

"Why would I do that? Maybe it's because I had wounds of my own to heal. Maybe I thought you were already dead." He spat blood, tasting metal.

"Why you put yourself in my business, Larabee. What business was it of yours anyway? Why'd you have to butt in?" He stood over his prey, glaring at him, flexing his hands. Chris knew what was coming, and pulled against the rawhide again. "That ain't gonna help ya, Larabee. I told ya you'd pay."

He paid. The man started with his face, straight across the bloody cut, and he punched him. Time after time after time, Chris felt the blows. The man was systematic with it, enjoying his victim's groans and grunts as his body turned black under the clouts. Chris gave him scant satisfaction, twisting, but not making sounds, not until the man settled in on working the knife wound with his fists. He tried to turn himself to lessen the pain, but every time he moved away, the man kicked him to his back again, and punched him again. It didn't stop until Chris was much to weak to care.

He didn't realize how long he was out. His tormentor had gone back to his resting place, not bothering to provide water. Chris felt only the sticky sensation of matting blood and massive bruises. He found it hard to breathe through mouth or nose. He pulled at the ties more firmly, ignoring the pain. He knew this pain was much less than the man's next visit would be. There were parts of his body that the man hadn't begun to touch.

Why the damn ants chose that precise moment to crawl across his body, Chris didn't know. He figured they came for the moisture and salt of his sweat. He was in such pain; he didn't realize the things were gathering there until at least one crawled across a particularly sensitive part of his lower body, as yet unbeaten by his tormentor. "Shit." He twisted his body to try to rid himself of the vermin, but he couldn't move enough to dissuade the little pests from they're wandering. He'd heard Vin Tanner talk about the Commanches staking a man out on anthills. It had always seemed a particularly unpleasant way to die. And thinking about his friends finding him in this particular situation seemed to be too embarrassing anyway. He yanked his leg hard to dislodge the small annoyance and got an infuriating sting for his effort. He yanked again and felt something give. The dry rawhide now...what the man had forgotten the last time. Chris pulled his leg again, and felt the leather give again. "Come on back...come on back and try me again!" He doubled his efforts on the strips at his wrist, and felt not only the move of the straps again, but felt the stake give as the sandy soil shifted under his efforts. The ant bit again, and Chris let out a yell. "Come on. Let's see who goes to hell first, this time." He yelled again, and waited.

Waited for long agonizing minutes, knowing the unknown man would return and when he did, Chris Larabee would be waiting for him. Waiting to show the sonofabitch just who would be seeing hell first. His wrists and ankles were now free of their tethers, but he stayed where he was, knowing he'd need to gather his reserves, to fight with the instincts he'd always had. His right hand wrapped around the stake and pulled it from the ground, but he held it in place, praying he'd get a chance to use it. He turned towards the trickle of water and saw the man walking towards him. The gunslinger made sure his body remained stretched out in the sun and waited...waited for what seemed like an eternity.

"So, Larabee ya remember my name yet?" He knelt down beside his prey and leered at the gunslinger. Too late he noticed the sand around the pegs embedded in the sand.

"N...no..." the blond spat, jerking his body to the left and driving the pointed end of the makeshift weapon into his enemies right side. He knew the blow was weak, but the man's cry of pain told him he'd done some damage. Chris turned over, ignoring the mounting pain and held the stake in front of him.

"Ya'll pay fer that ya bastard!" the man groaned, but stood his ground. The blade gripped tightly in his hand as he watched his enemy. The fact that Larabee could stand up was a testament to the strength and agility of the blond.

"Got a l...lot m...more to pay for your...self..." the blond snarled through gritted teeth, the blood stained stake held between numbed fingers.

"Have at it, Larabee, but yer blood'll be the one that's spilled on the ground. Yer body'll be the one ta feed the buzzards and other vermin!"

"Only ver...min I s...see is you!" the blond snarled and moved away from the man's quick jab with the blade.

Larabee understood that this fight would not end until one or both of them lay dead on the ground. He set his body to ignore the pain and launched his own attack.

Vin swore as he settled on his haunches in the hot desert sand. He could read the signs easily, and what he saw sent a shiver of fear through his lean form. They'd been on the trail for two days now. Two days in which they'd searched for the missing peacekeeper, but had only come upon this trail early that morning. The signs he read did not bode well for his best friend. He stood up, stretched the tired kinks from his body and turned to the others. Five men who bowed to his experience at reading signs. He wouldn't let them down now.

"What is it, Vin?" Wilmington asked, worried about the cold steel in the blue eyes.

"Two horses. Wants us to think Chris took off alone that way." He pointed at receding prints in the sand. "Whoever this son-of-a-bitch is, he don't know squat about sign. Pony left alright, but Chris ain't ridin' him."

Josiah dismounted and began to consider the path the horse had taken. "What are you saying, Vin?"

"Every once in a damn while, Chris listens to me. Last time we got separated on a manhunt, it was a devil of a time tracking him cause he weren't on Pony. See this!"

"Yeah, horseshoe...so what, Vin."

"Not just the horseshoe, Buck. Not just the fact the mark ain't very deep at all. Even if Chris is a light load, Pony'd be digging deeper than this with Chris on his back. See this mark here?"

"Looks like a big round something."

"Full moon." Vin led his own horse forward. "See anything?"

"Half moon?" Josiah began to nod. "Sign. You know where that horse goes. Long as Chris is on Pony, you know where he's going."

"We decided to try it, just us two. If it made sense, we's gonna suggest all of us

mark our shoes."

"We can track each other with a lot more certainty that we are on the right track."

"Not only that, Josiah. It's only on Pony's front right. Chris thought of that. Can ya figure why?"

J.D. gasped, "Cause Pony throws his front right a bit, but only when somebody's riding him. Right?"

"Yeah. And we all know ain't many gonna ride him...not without meeting the ground coming up fast. Pony ain't a real sociable ride."

"Mr. Tanner, this is a most enlightening and illuminating conversation, but would you please tell this poor dumb Southern boy what it means in our present predicament?"

Buck stared at the prints. "Tell me if I'm right, Vin. Chris ain't riding Pony. The moon print isn't thrown...it's mostly straight up and down. If Chris was on him, the moon would scoop the sand out and away from the print."

"Right. And Pony weren't upset...just running. Somebody else on his back, he'd be sunfishing his way to Purgatorio by now. Whichever way Pony went, Chris went the other. See here. Print's too deep for it to just be one rider on this other horse. It's carrying double. Ask me, I'd say Chris was probably out and over the pommel by now. He wouldn't be going willing, and if he'd a won the fight, he'd have Pony or he'd be following him anyhow."

Buck was almost quiet. The others could hear the reigned in anger in his voice. "I don't like this, Vin. If Chris was out by the time they got here, it means he's probably hurt bad to start with, probably ain't got one idea where he's at..."

"And whoever took him, didn't mean him any good wishes, guys." JD stared at the prints. They led straight out across the sand, straight and true...straight out into the middle of the badlands and heat straight from the pit.

"It's worse than that." Josiah wiped his brow with his hat. He was standing by a clump of sagebrush, looking down at something buried in the sand. He reached down...

"Chris' hat?"

"Boots, spurs, shirt...everything, down to and including his drawers."

"Why'd he want to take him naked?" J D almost laughed at the thought of Chris

Larabee in the buff.

Ezra's glare silenced the young man's fun. "Because he doesn't mean to bring him back anywhere where his sartorial condition will be noticed, much less of any concern. If Mr. Larabee is not already visiting in the hereafter, Mr. Dunne, I venture that whoever has him probably intends to bury him in the sand...dead or alive."

Josiah walked along the prints, thinking about his friend...wondering how long he could last where he was being taken. "Well, he can't get far on that horse. He's gonna push it into the ground if he goes too far."

Wilmington gathered his reigns. "Then, Josiah, you and Vin...you best get back on your horses. We've got to find him fast, before that man decides to use the shovel. Josiah, bring his clothes...he's gonna be a little embarrassed when we find him."

"If we find him." Standish said it low and with sadness in every sound.

"Now, Ez." Buck smiled. "Now, you just remember, this is Chris. Whoever he is, that boy's made him mad now..."

Vin smiled. "And don't nobody want to make Chris near this mad!"

"Can't wait to see just how mad he's been...can you. I do have faith that he is mad enough to weather the fires of hell...don't you?"

Nathan finally said the needed words, "Amen and amen. Let's ride."

Chris knew he couldn't last long against a man who seemed twice his size, especially since his opponent was also in better physical condition. After endless hours in the sun, the blond briefly wondered how he was staying on his feet as he circled his nemesis. He held the stake ready in his right hand, ignoring the cramping pain as life came back into his ankles and hands.

"I'm gonna kill ya, Larabee, gonna make ya bleed!" the nameless man cackled as he slashed with the knife.

He wasn't close enough to do any harm, but Chris instinctively ducked away, his movement slow because of the damage done to his body. He swayed on his bare feet in the hot sand, but circled his hated enemy. He still had no idea what the bastard's name was, but didn't want to waste the energy to ask.

The man watched as Larabee's feet danced lightly over the ground, as if he couldn't stand the searing heat. He smiled as the blond landed on the sharp edge of a rock and stained it red with his own blood.

"Hell, Larabee, ya wanna be cut then let me do it!" This time he jabbed with the knife, barely missing the blond's exposed midsection.

Chris saw the opening and brought his right hand down on the nameless man's wrist. The blow was weak, but unexpected and the knife flew from his foe's hand. Chris smiled as he saw the first sign of fear on the man's face and moved in for the kill. Unfortunately, his legs were still weak and his enemy moved to the right, chopping a meaty fist down on the back of his neck. Chris tried to stay on his feet, but unbalanced he landed hard on his bare knees as his captor landed a kick to his right side. He went down hard, breathing in sand as he tried to ignore the pain. Another kick, this one to the right side of his skull and the bright sun overhead seemed to explode into a swirling void of darkness.

The man stood over the prone body and smiled as he felt the blood running from his own wound. He knew he needed to tend the injury, but one look at his captive and he knew his wounds would have to wait. To leave this man un-tethered while he stopped the blood from seeping from his body would be a mistake he'd regret. Grabbing the gunslinger by the wrists he dragged the battered man towards the trickle of water, devising his next move while he worked.

"Ya think yer friends'll s...save ya...don't ya? They w...won't th...though...made su...sure of t...that..." his voice came as a ravaged breathless hiss as his mouth grew dry from the oppressive heat surrounding them.

"Vin!" Josiah reigned in hard. "That way!"

"What? Don't see nothin', Josiah. I'd figured he's taking Chris up toward Shiprock. Why would we want to head for Duragno?"

"I don't know if it IS Durango, Vin. But this ole crow's watching something. Crow. Sign. We don't ride, may be a sign of Chris being dead."

"He ain't dead, Josiah. He's alive. You can see a crow? Where? My eyes is usually good as yours, Josiah, and I don't see no crow."

"Not with my eyes this time. Crow's only in my head. Still, it's a sign."

"Then lead us, Josiah. If your spirits' are trying to lead us, you tell ‘em I said thanks. We sure ‘nough need every bit of help we can get."

He was drunk and dizzy when he woke this time. He thought he would be hearing Vin in his head, hearing him talking through that crazy link that tended to bind them together in times of need, but it wasn't Vin he heard this time. But why Standish? And why was it that all he heard was "Oh, the indignity, Mr. Larabee. Oh, the indignity. If it were me, I would most definitely despise the indignity of this moment."

"Right, Ez." He did despise it. Chris was now on his stomach, sand grinding into his flesh, sinking into his mouth, his nose. His cheeks, the ones now facing the sun, were prickling quickly. And the nameless man was laughing.

"I see you ain't forgot me totally, Larabee. Wouldn't think you could forget somebody who left you this mark, now could ya?"

The knife traced the scar low across his back. Five inches, long ago turned from red and angry to pinkish white, a shade lighter than the rest of his flesh."

Chris lay still. He had determined that chiding the man might get him stabbed quickly and fatally in the back. For now, the maniac was content to make him bleed slowly, not finish him off. Chris had survived that kind of maniac before. Surviving a maniac like that just hurt like hell. The less the man cut him, the longer he could survive.

"You ain't gonna talk to me, Larabee? Don't like you being so quiet. What you planning?" The knife scored him, high along his left hip, and then returned to play across the scar above his kidney. Chris hissed and felt the blood run between his cheeks. "Now that's interesting." The man ran his gloved finger deep inside the cleft, smearing the blood up and along Chris' spine. Chris couldn't stop his breath from catching in fear at the thought of his present position. He jerked hard.

"Oh, don't have to worry there, Larabee. I ain't that mean a bastard. I'm just playing with your blood. Love the smell and feel of somebody else's blood. "

"Get off me, you son-of-a-bitch!"

"Interesting. You ain't near as worried about dying as you are about that, now are ya?"

"Who are you?" Chris felt the knife score his other hip, a little deeper this time, this blood joining the last.

"So you REALLY don't remember? Guess you need more in the way of a reminder, now don't ya? Me, I got me a real nice scar...right about here!" The cut, mean and slow, scored his right shoulder, and Chris screamed, feeling himself losing consciousness again.

He drew in a deep, struggling breath, and held on to sanity and sight. "Think...think...got to be a way. Vin, boys, where are you? Can't all be dead. Vin, could use a little help, a hell of a lot of help, about now." He screamed as the knife bit again.

Vin stopped. Absolutely still, his head turning suddenly a little more to the East. "Hang on, Chris. He's damn sure alive, boys. But he's in pain, a lot of pain. Josiah...your crow...he's a little off course."

Without another word the tracker turned his attention to feeling for the thread that told him his best friend was alive. He dug his heels into Peso and felt the animal dig its hooves into the loose earth as if he felt his owners need for speed. Long legs spread wide, cutting the distance even as Vin Tanner opened his mind.

The others took the sign from the lead horse and rider and six dark figures raced across the dessert. Their bodies seemed to move as one, six riders, six horses...searching for the missing member that would keep them whole.

This one he knew would be a major problem, as his un-named captor sank the blade into his thigh. He didn't think it caught anything but tissue, but it would make it impossible for him to run. A small laugh escaped as he realized it wouldn't matter. His hands and feet were so tightly tied that the feeling had once more left them.

"Well, Hell, Larabee, if that don't beat all...ya still don't ‘member who I am. Do ya?"

Chris wished he could put a name to the face of the man who would haunt him all the way to the grave and beyond, but nothing new came to him.

"Ya know all of this is your fault. If you'd've kept yer nose outta my business, I wouldn't have to do this!"

Again Chris screamed as the blade made a quick slice across his right calf. It wasn't deep, but the pain was almost unbearable for the tortured gunslinger. His mind and body began to quit as the blood seeped from the numerous wounds. This was it...this was where his life would be forfeited and he had no idea who the bastard who was killing him was. He sank into the hell of his nightmares, ones that started on a farm in Indiana and continued to haunt him through the years. All the pain, all the loss, all the fears were now culminating in a death so senseless he couldn't fathom the reasons. With one last deep, shuddering cry of rage he gave in to his body's cry for relief.

He watched the body go still, and screamed in rage. This was too soon. He couldn't let Larabee go without knowing who was doing this to him or why. He reached for the cup and hurried to the trickle of water. Filling it he walked back to the prone body and dumped the contents over the sweat soaked blond head. Still, Larabee didn't move.

Angry that this man could escape him so easily he cut the ropes that bound him to the new stakes. He dragged the unconscious form to the creek and threw him in. The water was barely deep enough to cover half his body and the angry man forced Larabee's face down into the now sandy water.

"Ya ain't gettin' away without knowin' who I am, ya sonofabitch!" he screamed as he held the blond head facedown in the creek.

How much further? that thought raced through the tracker's mind as he felt the thread binding him to the gunslinger begin to slip. Hang on, Cowboy, we're coming...ya just gotta hold on a little longer's all!

Chris heard Vin's promise as he felt the last bit of breath leave him, and knew the hunger of dying lungs. He was going to drown in this little trickle of water, at the hands of some lunatic he didn't even remember. A Braddock he could understand. Ella would kill him if she got a chance. Master's kin, but hell, he hadn't had to fight those particular lunatics for years. He couldn't hold his ragged breath any longer. "Sorry, Vin. Might as well finish it." His lungs demanded that he breath.

"Nooooo!" Vin nearly fell from Peso's back. "Hold on Chris...don't you give up yet! We're coming."

Buck Wilmington forced him back upright in the saddle, never breaking stride. "Where Vin...show us where!"

"He's dead, Buck! He's dead."

"Not until I say so...now ride!"

Chris vomited water and sand back onto the desert as the lunatic pounded his ribs and pulled him up by his sides. As water gushed again, he thought, ‘Ah, hell. Wasn't so bad there for a second.' Through the fog of his mind and the returning pain of his body, he screamed at the hulk above him. "Leave me...the hell...alone, damn IT!"

"Think you's getting off this easy, Larabee? HELL NO!"

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" Chris took a useless jab at the man, and then spat out water again. His lungs demanded air and he sucked in a hellish breath.

"Get up, Larabee!"

"Go to hell!"

"I said get up or you're gonna die on yer knees like a dog."

"Why's how I die matter so much to you? Just do it, or let me go. I don't much give a shit which!" He leaned his face into the sand and tried to breathe slower. "Alright, Vin. I ain't gone yet! You gonna get em here or what?"

The air coming in was hot, but it was air, and Chris welcomed it...right up to the point he gasped in so much of it he thought his lungs would burst. The whip that had caused it cut into his flesh a second time. When it hit again, across his butt, he forgot how tired and weak and air deprived and miserable he was. He was on his feet again. "I'm gonna kill you, you son-of-a-damn crazy-bitch."

The maniac drew back again and gave it across Chris' legs, yanking to bring him down again. Chris managed to dodge it, stood and glared in return.

"You gonna have to do better than that, Larabee. I'm gonna strip the hide clean off your body, then I'm gonna work on what's underneath. How'd it feel to have me take out your bones...one piece at a time?"

"Who made you my pa?" Chris charged him, managing to wrap one hand in the man's shirt. He got clubbed on the head, but he held on and buried coiled fingers in the man's chest hair beneath.

The man screeched, and Chris felt a feral moment of satisfaction. But the man punched and circled his ribs with stronger arms, cutting off his air again. The brute crushed him like he was a small, flimsy reed, and Chris felt the sun going out again.

"Jesus!" Tanner swore as he felt the gossamer strands weaken once more. He knew Larabee was quickly slipping away and if they didn't find him fast it would be too late. He let his mind relax and closed his eyes, praying the link between himself and Chris Larabee would not break before it showed them the way. He felt Wilmington on his right and knew the others were close behind him, but he didn't take the time to acknowledge them. He knew they understood his bond with the gunslinger and that they were leaving it to him to guide them to their missing leader.

The man felt the body going slack in his arms once more and released his hold. He watched as Larabee's battered form hit the dirt with a resounding thud, and a soft moan.

"So, yer still with me! Good, cause it's near dark now and when the final rays go down, that's when I'll gut ya and leave ya ta bleed out like ya left me!"

Chris heard the voice, but was beyond caring. The abuse heaped on him by the nameless man was overwhelming and he felt his life seeping from his body along with the blood. How long could a man go on if his blood continued to flow? How much pain could one man endure and still live? His eyes refused to close as he watched the hated figure make his way to the water. He wanted to get up, but there was nothing left...no reserves to call upon. His eyes began to close; taking with it the pain that flowed through him.

NO! Godammit, COWBOY! You better not give up!

The words were only in his head, but the strength could not be denied, nor the plea from a man he considered his brother. He forced the heavy lids open, ignoring the grit and sand that seemed caked under them.

Trying, Vin...hu...hurry...

The tracker breathed a sigh of relief at hearing the voice in his head, but that relief was short lived as he realized Larabee was barely hanging on.

"VIN!"

He heard the shout and turned his head to the left, his eyes locking with the blue-eyed ladies' man. He simply shook his head and turned back to the trail, letting the bond guide him to the man they sought.

The man looked at the body on the ground and smiled as he cleaned the blood from his blade. The knife was part of his past, the same one he'd used on the gunslinger once before. This time it would see the man's guts spill out on the soil, food for whatever animal resided in Hell's Fire. He began to hum, as he continued to ready the knife. The sun would soon dip below the horizon and when it did, Chris Larabee would bid his final goodbye. A new sound assaulted his ears and he stood up, swearing as he recognized the danger he was in.

"I ain't gonna leave ‘til this is finished, Larabee!" he screamed in violent rage.

Somewhere along the torturous ride, Josiah had left them. That knowledge didn't stop the five from moving forward. Josiah would not leave them alone for long now, but he would leave them for a time to look for spiritual guidance in their quest to find their friend.

Vin felt only the faintest thread connecting them now. He felt the weakness of his friend, and the pain, and somehow a sense of peace. "Ah, no. Don't you get peaceful on me, Chris Larabee. You get mad, you fight. We're all fighting this, Chris. Josiah's gone to pray. He's looking for his divine help...you look too. We're all looking for the light to lead us to ya. We're coming. You hang on. Hell, Cowboy, even Ez has started to pray. I've even started talking to the Comanche."

He wasn't going to die in the heat, feeling the fight leave his spirit as the blood left his veins. Chris' flesh burned, but he felt the cold of the approaching desert night. He shivered, even as the heat of his skin continued to rise and the sun continued to leave the sky.

He turned his head a little and closed his eyes. It didn't help. There wasn't even a drop of sweat to fall onto his parched tongue. His skin had gone dry a long time before. When he opened his eyes again, the shadow of the rising moon had started to climb above the peaks to the west...a beautiful moon...full and silver and bright. He had walked under such a moon with Sarah. He smiled tiredly. Maybe in another place, he would walk with her tonight.

"Hang on, Chris. Please hang on. We need ya, Cowboy. Ain't none of us would a made it if it weren't for you." Vin felt tears sting his eyes. He was having trouble finding the thread now. "Hang on, Chris. We're coming."

"Vin."

"Josiah...where the hell you been?" He reigned in to hear the man's words. They didn't have time, unless the words held an answer.

"Talking with Kojay."

"Kojay ain't here! Kojay's close to Four Corners."

"But there are ways. He and I have something like what you have with Chris...we're brothers at the soul."

"Then what did he have to say...tell me, Josiah. Is Chris alive?"

"Kojay says to listen for the spirits to show us the way. He says they know our man's ways, and despise the one who is determined to destroy him. He says we must believe there is a way, and that Chris' body and spirit depend on the dog spirit to protect his life. It is his only hope."

"He's weak, Josiah. I can't feel him much."

"There's only one more thing. Kojay said, when we find him, to bring him to the dog's lair. Only there will he survive. Beside that, all Kojay said was to get our butts in the saddle and ride."

Buck had listened impatiently. "Hell...where the hell's this dog's lair?"

"Pard, let's go find what these spirits want us to know...where Chris is...then we'll ask em where to take him. Let's move."

The coyote howled somewhere in the night. Chris heard the howl, and shuddered. He heard it again, and looked toward the high ridge where the sound seemed to take on its own form and drift toward the desert sand where his brutalized body lay. He knew he was weak, and figured he was hallucinating, but he could see the huge shape that approached as slowly as the night.

"Larabee. Yer time's up." No-name had risen, watching Larabee stare out into the open desert. He figured his captive was nearing the end, and he didn't want to miss being the cause of his final terror and pain.

Covered in blood, trying to do what Vin had told him to do...to get mad and fight ...Chris could only manage to look at him. He had no illusions that his eyes glared any kind of defiance. He didn't have enough strength to do anything but stare out in a daze.

"So, lost some of yer bluster, huh! Hell, thought I'd at least get to hear you cuss me once while I cut your tongue out."

"G---g---g--g--o t--- hell!" He hoped he managed to make the man hear. Didn't want to let Vin down. He turned his head to the side again.

"Let's see what I can cut that won't kill ya, yet. Moon's not full up. Told ya you'd last til the moon was up. Here...what say we just cut off yer balls." The knife glistened, even in moonlight, No-name inched it toward his groin.

"Dear God, please! Not that." His heart lurched as he watched the knife move. He felt the first prick on the side of his shaft, and he sobbed just once.

Even No-name heard the howl. He stopped and moved backward into the shadows, crouching low, as the thing in the dark yipped and uttered its song. He whispered, "Well, Larabee...looks like I might just get robbed of my chance, but hell, let that thing come. Time this night gets dark, it's gonna come in the open to see what's dead out here...and you'll just about be there, but not quite. Watching it lick your bloody carcass might be just as much fun as guttin' ya. They chew out the throat first, don't ya know." He kicked the prone body, sending Chris to one bloody side.

It was a coyote, definitely...but it was more than twice the size of any Chris had ever seen. It moved silently, its back covered in a pelt of gray, layers seeming to turn back upon its shoulders. Its chest was a blaze of red...far too red for a natural shade, with what looked like a buff-colored bandana around its neck. He wondered if it was covered in blood. It advanced, unafraid, straight toward him. Chris couldn't move. His eyes closed for a bit. He struggled to push them open. He saw the thing advancing. Its eyes bored into his own, and it seemed to grin.

He couldn't talk, but he had heard Vin's last instructions...he began to pray. "Dear God, I know I ain't a good man. I've probably been one hell of a thorn in your side, I know it...but please, God please, don't let that thing get to me first. If I've got to die, then let this bastard just stick me once and finish me fast. I'm really tired of all this...okay? I don't ask for you to spare me...I just ask that you protect my friends. I know they're coming. I'd as soon they not find me, as find me like this. Just let them ride on home safe. And, God, if I've done anything decent at all, would you just let me hold Sarah and Adam, just one more time. I'd be mighty grateful." He made the last decision he would ever make, and chose to look his demon in the eye.

"Okay, Larabee...it ain't coming. Don't look like it wants you after all. But I do. It's dark enough. Be still...it's only gonna hurt...like hell."

"Who Are You?" Chris felt a ripple through his mind, but it was his body that cried out one last time as the pain hit again. The knife swiped across his stomach, and he felt the blood flow free and warm...he knew it was just beginning.

The coyote howled, and advanced toward him. Its head was down and it stared straight into his eyes. They were blue. The eyes weren't the eyes of a demon dog, not the eyes of something that would chew out his throat. Chris didn't know why, but somehow he thought of Vin and heard him again. "Hang on...just hang on..."

The knife came toward him again and No-name laughed as Chris screamed. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!"

It growled, low, and Chris heard anger in its voice. He looked into its face and plead, "Please...please...enough."

The coyote lunged, and Chris heard himself scream as something scraped across his throat

"Hang on. We know. We're here. Hang on."

"Can't."

"Trust the big dog, there Stud."

"Buck...don't make me laugh." The blood splattered animal stood before him, and simply stared at him. Blue eyes into green. Silent and waiting. Then it moved closer, and with a huff, lay down against his back. Ripples crossed his mind. "Hell, Tanner. I'm either dead or crazy or both. Sorry...ya know I tried." He closed his eyes, and knew that this time he died.

"Chris!"

Vin's cry was filled with rage and pain as his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped in the saddle. If not for Buck and Josiah the young tracker would have made a quick and sudden impact with the ground at a speed that would've seen broken bones and possibly a trampled body as the other horses continued on unaware.

Nathan watched as the two peacekeepers caught hold of the sharpshooter and pulled Peso to a halt. The horse's sides heaved as it tried to catch its breath, and the sweat slick body held its ground as Buck held Vin in the saddle.

Josiah dismounted and reached for the semi conscious man and eased him to the ground. Tanner's face was pale and his skin cold to the touch, his body trembling in spite of the lingering heat. The ex-preacher looked up as the ladies man slid from his horse and came to kneel next to him.

"Nate, we need ya here!" Wilmington called worriedly, his eyes raking over the trail they'd been following...big dogs, its lair...what the hell was all that. He knew there was something almost mystical about the connection between Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. Had seen it time and again, and he wouldn't question what was going on, but he would question why it was happening. Why now, just when things were looking up for Chris Larabee? Just when his life was finally going well, and most of the pain was in the past.

"Nate!"

"Buck, I'm right here!"

The healer's voice penetrated his thoughts and he moved to allow the dark skinned man to check their friend.

Chris floated, as if on a calm sea, unaware of the turmoil his happening not far from where his body lay. He smiled as the pain, both physical and emotional seemed to have eased, as if a divine hand had finally decided he'd suffered enough. He looked around, wondering if this was heaven or hell, not really sure which place would be his final home. There were two identical trails, and he knew he could only choose one.

The un-named man watched as the big animal moved in and seemed to be protecting Chris Larabee. He'd moved back when it settled its bulk beside the gunslinger, fearing what he was seeing in spite of the blood stained knife gripped tightly in his fingers.

"Ain't leavin' ‘til the last of his blood's spilled...‘til he's in hell where he belongs!" He laughed as he realized he was talking to a coyote, a strange one with changing eyes and a bandana, but a coyote just the same.

A sound came from the animal, one that sent chills through his spine. The blue eyes shifting to green in the cold glow from the newly risen moon. He stepped forward, intent on making the final cut, but a guttural snarl made him rethink his plans.

"Ya'll have ta leave ta get water and when ya do I'll finish what I started!"

The snarl came again and the man sank down on his haunches to wait for the animal to leave. He was totally unaware of the blood seeping from the wound inflicted by the gunslinger.

"Nathan, is he alright?" Dunne asked as the others caught up.

"I think so," the healer said as the blue eyes opened, showing a depth of pain he never thought to see. The head shook and the body trembled as the sharpshooter tried to stand.

"Easy, Brother," Sanchez said, watching the emotions flit across the young man's face.

"It's too la...late...we're too late..."

"What the hell's that mean?" Wilmington spat as Sanchez and Jackson helped the young man stand.

"What the fuck do ya think it means, Buck?" Tanner swore. "Chris' gone okay...he's de...dead! I can't feel him anymore!"

"Mr. Tanner, is there any chance your special bond with our illustrious leader is merely weakened?" Standish asked.

"I wish it was, Ez," the tracker said, staggering to Peso and grabbing the reins as five men watched his every move, praying he was wrong about the missing peacekeeper. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and turned moisture laden eyes on the ex-preacher.

"Have faith, Vin, the Lord has not forsaken our brother and the spirits roam the night to keep him safe," Sanchez said.

He took his first step, grateful that he moved again with the lean body of his youth, the body that carried no mark. The coyote moved beside him, as if it would show him the way. "Where we going?" He knew he didn't say it, just thought it, and that was fine. He asked the question, felt no concern for the answer. He felt no fear as he heard No-name's voice again. Looking back, Chris knew the knife in the gloved hand advanced on the prone man again. "Glad that ain't me." No worry, no concern, just an observation to the animal beside him.

The body heaved and screamed, and its life force gushed again. "Please ... please ..." He knew it was him, and the screams from the bloody heap on the ground came from his own mouth now, agony pure and hot and dragging him back toward the pit. The coyote snarled and began to move away from his side.

No-name heard a howl and even he heard the fury and promise of reckoning in the song. He peered into the dark, attempting to find the thing that sent fear into his soul and now eluded his eyes. He'd seen it hadn't he? Where was it now? He felt his breath stop as the cooling sand burned and shifted beneath his feet.

"One more, Larabee. Just one. Ain't nothing going to save you now."

His heart seized as he saw it, eyes glowing as it lunged from nowhere, fangs bared...as it ripped out his throat.

They all heard the howl that time. And they heard the scream. A human scream, from the depths of hell.

"Ah, damn. Over there." Vin lead them up the small rise, fearing what he would see, but trusting somehow that Chris would be there, maybe even alive. As they topped the sandy point, a lone coyote stared up as if to make certain who came into this place. It yipped mornfully, howled and moving silently again slipped back into the night.

They breathed again somehow, taking in the sand and the two still forms below that occupied it. Buck whispered, "Come on," and the small band moved out as one.

They didn't speak as they looked at the clothed one. He hadn't died clean.

Ezra retched at the sight. "Gentlemen, I don't think I've ever seen anything like that?"

Dunne's stomach was empty too, but curiosity drew him to the heap of what had been a man. "He ain't got no face! I mean, his throats gone, but this?"

"Coyote's apt to walk off from its own kill...find one that's a little riper for a feast, J. D. This one..."

"This one, my friends, wasn't a coyote...not a dog...a spirit maybe...but who knows."

"Josiah...there ya go being inspired again."

They watched the other man's body...they had trouble saying it was Chris ... which now lay next to the small trickle. Nathan and Vin had moved him with care. They heard no sound as they prepared to ease him into the stream.

"Come on, Chris." Vin talked as if the man heard him...and hoped that somewhere deep inside he did. "We got your back now. Hang on."

"Vin," Nathan's eyes had never been so troubled. "This might keep him going for a spell. Least we can stop the blood. But we need medicine I ain't got, and someplace out of this heat. I just don't know where to take him. I don't think we can risk moving him."

Josiah knelt beside him and seemed to wait for the land to speak. "We will know, Nathan. Trust the spirit. When it's time, we will know."

"Not so sure spirits can help, Chris, Josiah. There's just so much damage I don't know where to start," Jackson explained.

"Well, Brother, we need to trust in Chris' spirit that he wants to stay. That he's not ready to give up the new life he's leading," Sanchez explained as Wilmington and Dunne started a fire. He heard the tracker's soft drawl as he kept up a constant litany of words and promises to the blond.

"Ain't gonna let ya quit, Larabee. Ain't ready ta go back ta what I had before we met. My life wasn't that bad, but I never had people I could count on since I lost my ma. We need ya...I need ya ta fight...yer my brother, Chris, maybe we don't share the same blood, but we're kin of the heart. Josiah's talkin' spirits here and if'n ya need one ya can take my spirit and I'll walk along with ya, but ya ain't allowed ta go alone..." He laid Larabee's sweat soaked blond head on his knee, oblivious of the water that now soaked his lower body.

"Here, Vin, use this to wash off as much of that blood as ya can. Just be careful, ‘cause I got no idea if he's got anything broken inside or out," the healer said, and saw the shaggy head dip, but the words never stopped as the tracker tried to keep their leader with them.

"What can we do, Mr. Jackson?" Standish asked, his mind filled with horror at the site of the battered man.

"Ain't much right now, Ez. Got nothin' with us I can use to ease his pain...Hell, he ain't in no pain right now anyway, but if..."

"When!" Wilmington snapped.

"When he wakes up he's gonna need some kind of relief. Lord knows he's got more marks on ‘im than I've seen on one body since the war."

"You're gonna help him though, right Nathan?" Dunne asked as he added more wood to the fire.

"I'm gonna do my damndest ta keep ‘im alive," the former slave said as he walked to his horse and removed his saddlebags. The fact that the contents had not yet been replenished was evident by how light they were. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to the ex-preacher.

"We have faith in you, Nathan. You're a natural born healer," the older man said confidently.

"Come on, Chris, show me some of that stubbornness yer known fer," Tanner continued to speak as he used the soft cloth to wash the dirt from the injured man. The water pooling around the body turned red with Larabee's blood and Vin knew there was only so much a man could lose and his friend seemed close to that limit.

"We're all here, pard, Buck, JD, Josiah, Ezra, Nathan. We ain't lettin' ya go...gonna stay and watch yer back ‘til ya find yer way home.

"Mr. Sanchez, Mr. Jackson...At this hour, what can we do to help Mr. Larabee survive?"

Josiah whispered from his near trance-like state, "For now, Ezra, you can continue to join your prayers to the rest of ours. There is something in our number, I believe, that draws good, though the gates of hell do seem to vex us when we are one."

"Well, what Josiah says may be true, but Ezra, while you pray, keep that fire going. Chris' gonna have fever, he's gonna feel cold, and that fire can offer a way to stop any bleeding that starts again."

"Merciful heaven...you'd burn him, as injured as he is?"

"I hope it doesn't come to that, but he can't stand to lose more blood. JD?"

"Yeah...what do you want me to do?"

"Look, go find us something to fix some food. We'll fix a little broth...Chris is going to need every bit of strength he can get...see what you can find. If you can get something with a little fat on its bones, that'll be good...but I'll take lizard or snake. And try to get enough so we can maybe have some too. This is going to be a long watch."

"I'll be back quick. Don't you guys let NOTHING happen to Chris."

"Nothing else is gonna happen to Chris, Kid...cept another round of hell."

Chris didn't worry about it. The coyote walked beside him, leading him onward. He had left the body behind willingly, with only a glance back at the men he had known. "Where we going?" The animal snuffed the air and led him on. The silver circle above him beckoned and he stepped toward its light. On the ridge, a form stood...no, two...one tall, one small, arms open, waiting to greet him. He walked toward them, a feeling of calm and peace growing steadily stronger.

"Come on, Chris. Come on. I know you'd rather not hurt. Hell, I know you're gonna cuss us all to hell and back, but ya gotta try. Come on, it's not time yet. We need ya."

Something pulled him to the left...back toward the thing lying in the trickle. The one there beside it seemed lost, and the song that one sang in its soul joined with the coyote beside him.

Chris looked at the kneeling figure, the one with long, shaggy hair. "He's alone, ain't he? Alone to the core of his being. No...he's got the five more. They'll see to him. Just think it's time I let go. He's strong enough. They're all strong enough. It's just time I took a little rest." His steps followed back to the right, after the coyote...back toward the ridge.

"He ain't moved at all, Nathan. Like he don't even want to come back. There's gotta be something we can do."

"Keep talking, Vin." Josiah whispered. "Call him. There's something alive on this desert tonight, and it's trying to help Chris decide. Thing is, what it offers is good. It ain't trying to hurt him. But life ain't always peaceful, and it ain't full of good. Chris of everybody knows that. We just want him to remember that life's worth fighting for, and that we need him here as much as the spirits want him with them."

"They may want him, but what he needs most is to stop the blood and get him water. Pour a little of this water down his throat...just a little...but a little every minute or two. No telling how long."

Vin cradled the man's head in his arms. "Thanks, Nate. Chris, I got water here. Open up, I know you want water."

Ezra knelt beside the stream, dipping his arms into the water under the man's head, reaching to relieve Vin Tanner's burden. "Mr. Tanner. I will hold him until you have had drink yourself. We mustn't overlook your needs while you care for him. We need you equally well and equally sound. I will administer water to our friend, and I can also talk, though I admit he prefers to hear your words. Walk, Mr. Tanner. I assure you, Mr. Larabee will still be among us when you return."

Tanner nodded and almost drunkenly walked away. "Don't you go anywhere, Pard. I'll be right back."

Ezra continued to talk as he bathed the man's body and poured a small stream of water past his lips...sip by tiny sip. "Mr. Larabee, have I told you of the full bottle of single malt whiskey I have managed to keep hidden for your next birthday? I do know you are partial to single malt, but you are far too frugal to partake of it from your own funds. A man of your status should partake of nothing but the best...well, at least once in a while."

"Cool now, ain't it. Feels good. Wish they'd do that again." Chris stood still as he felt the ripples. He hadn't known any need since he began to follow the animal. He hadn't been offered anything, hadn't really needed anything, but still, he appreciated the touch of coolness inside. He moved left toward the call from the man. "Thinks I don't know about the single malt. Was looking forward to opening it with him."

The coyote blocked his path, head cocked, and it whined.

"I know...I'm just too tired. Want to sleep a long, long time." He turned and followed toward the ridge.

Buck's eyes were moist, tears unshed, soul tortured as he watched the fallen man who bled his life out into the life giving water. "Josiah...I ain't ever known him to want to just lay down and quit. Even when he lost Sarah and that little boy, even when he thought he just wanted to die, there's something in him that just wasn't ready to quit. What do we do to make him remember?"

"Show him your soul. He knows who you are and what you mean to his life. He seldom expresses it, because you too keep your emotions inside. Tonight, he needs to feel your need and know that you call to him too. He feels his connection to Vin, but he knows his dependence on you has given him life. We all speak of needing him...but he needs reminding of his need for you and for the rest of us. His life has just become his own again...it's not time to surrender that life to the spirit's call. Reach out for him, Buck. Together, we all...especially you and Vin...can call him back again. I feel the spirits offering ease, but they will give him what he asks for, what he longs for, most."

"Hear that, Stud. Josiah's saying nothing but the truth. You don't need no haunts, you need us just the same. They say seven's the perfect number, son. That means it goes for you like it goes for us...the seven of us got to be one. Come back and let's get this perfect number together again. Come on back, Chris. Don't make us all have to search through eternity to get us together again."

Chris looked at the animal walking beside him, hearing with his heart and soul the call of two paths. One led to the two people standing atop the ridge, the other to the six men who's souls called out to him. He met the blue-green eyes of the coyote and stopped, once more at a crossroads, a place where his life began or ended, depending on his choice.

"I know, I know," Larabee said as the coyote growled low in his throat. "The choice is mine. Some choice! Hell, I'm not sure what I want to do. Damn, there's never been an easy road in my life so why should this one bother me so damn much? Shoot...either way I'm hurtin' someone."

"Come on, Chris, we been through a lot together and I'll be damned if I'm ready to let go. There's some new ladies just waitin' for me in town, but I ain't gonna have a shot at them if I'm in mournin'...and I will be, Pard..." Wilmington said as tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

Nathan sank down beside the two men, his fingers touching Larabee's neck in hopes of finding a stronger pulse. His shoulders slumped as he felt the weak beat beneath his fingers.

"Nathan, he's not..." the ladies' man asked worriedly.

"He's still with us, Buck, but he's gettin' weaker," the healer said, turning to see the ex-preacher standing over them. "Josiah, if ya got any ideas or if the spirits are showin' ya any signs, now would be a good time."

"The spirits are all around us, Nathan, and one of them walks beside Chris..." he was interrupted by a harsh laugh from the rogue.

"In case you haven't noticed, Preacher, Chris ain't exactly in shape ta go walkin' any wheres!" Tanner snapped as he rejoined the group.

"Vin, you've lived with the Comanche and if anyone understands the spirits it's you. Chris is out there, walking a trail only he can see and it's gonna be up to us to show him the beacon to lead him home. It's gonna be hell's fire for him when he does return, and I know he is going to return, but if we don't stay strong he may not stay with us."

"You sayin' it's up to us to be his guides once the spirits show him his choices?" Jackson asked.

"That's right, and we all know what awaits Chris down the other path..."

"Sarah and Adam," Wilmington reasoned.

"Sarah and Adam," Chris echoed the names whispered by his long time friend and smiled at the thought of being with his family once more. He could almost hear them now...could taste of the love that was once part of his life. He turned to the small fire, where six men surrounded the body that still had a heart beating in its chest, struggling to find a way to give up one or the other.

He looked at the coyote, his companion in this night of struggle. It lay at his feet, silent, searching the green eyes with his own blue green. "It's hard to choose. I want them so bad...Sarah and Adam. My heart aches for them. It doesn't ever seem to stop aching. But the only reason I'm near about sane, only reason I can live in that world, is those men. Didn't know I could have friends...more than friends...a family of brothers that I care about...that I love...and who love me...just as much as I loved the others when they were my life. Which way do I go?"

The coyote rose and walked easily toward the ridge. Seeming to sense his hesitancy, it looked back and yipped and started out again. "So...I guess I'm going to choose." Chris turned right, and he took the first step on his chosen journey with peace in his soul.

"Nathan, I couldn't get nothing but this ole mouse looking thing. I'll go out again, but I wanted to check on Chris. Can we use this to help get him some strength back."

"Odd." Josiah murmured. "That's prime coyote food, but that coyote ain't interested in this kind of food on this night."

"Give it here, Kid. I'll get it clean and set it to boiling." Buck moved toward the fire. He looked back at the youngest of them, "Ya did good."

"Is Chris alive?"

"Barely, JD. He's real weak. His heart ain't stopped yet, but he's having to struggle to stay with us."

"Nathan? Nathan? It's getting weaker all of a sudden." At Ezra's frantic call, Vin took his place again and brought the body against his chest. "Chris. Please Chris. We need ya, listen to us...we're all calling to ya. Listen...there's six that's calling."

"Calling? Calling Chris?"

Still holding to Chris, Ezra explained the fight to the younger man. "Josiah thinks the spirits are walking with Chris tonight, helping him decide if he wants to go with Sarah and Adam now, or if he wants to come back to us...and all the hell of the coming back."

"Chris has done it before. He always wants to come back."

"But he's got a choice JD. He doesn't have to go through it all again. Kojay says Chris can choose to go to the rest and love Sarah and Adam offer instead. If we want him back, we got to convince him to come back."

"Gentlemen. I'm sorry, but I for one don't think we have much of a right to ask it of him another time. Jericho, Eagle Ridge, Red Rock, Durango...all the places he's suffered all of hell. Do we call him back into this and make him suffer, or do we wish him well, and let him go."

"No, Ez! We don't just let him go. This is Chris. We need Chris. Sarah and Adam can wait! Sure, he'll hurt. He'll hurt a lot. But we'll all be here to help him get strong again."

"Tell him that, JD." Josiah looked in the boy's face, seeing the young man's need. "I believe it's up to you."

"To me?

"We've all talked with Chris tonight. Each time one of us speaks he seems to gather strength. But when we stop, he loses ground. I believe he turns back at those times. It comes to me that you have yet to speak to him. Talks with him, my brother, convince him to come home to us. When you have spoken, the seven are whole, and Chris will choose."

"Why would he listen to me? I ain't nothing special to Chris like Vin and Buck. What can I say to make him want to come back?"

"Say what's in your heart, JD. Tell him what you feel. It's all any of us can do...but you are now the last...It's your turn to complete the seven."

"She's so beautiful." He spoke to his companion as she came into sight. "More beautiful than I remember. And Adam...he's so happy, so bright and happy. Can I hold him?"

The coyote stepped to the side, and Chris saw them reach for him, drawing him to them. He reached out, and felt the end of the right path draw near.

"Chris."

"Leave me alone. I'm here. I can be home with Sarah and Adam. Not later. Right now. I won't hurt. I can be at peace. Leave me alone, Kid."

The ripple touched his heart and then his soul. "Chris...I want ya back. It's selfish, I know. You miss Sarah and Adam, and they're probably right there with ya by now. I just don't care...they're dead and gone, and we're not. They'll always be there when it's really time for you to go home. I want ya to see them, then. But...hell, Chris...I ain't never had nobody that gave a damn about me...not since Ma. We call each other brothers...but it's more like you're my father. All you guys have given me the home I never had, but from the first, when I thought you didn't want me around, you've taught me how to fit in. Buck's my brother, Chris...and Vin...and Ezra...and Josiah...and Nathan. But ain't nobody ever been a father to me, not like you. Hell, I know Adam's your real son, but I've come to count on ya too. Adam's gone, Sarah's gone, Chris...can't you wait to see them again, wait until the seven of us here have finished this ride. We can't finish it without you. Come on back, Chris. I need ya, we all need ya, to get us through. You're the only one who can let us seven ride." A tear fell on the cold damp body that lay so still. "I tried, Vin. Anything?"

"He's gone. I think he's gone home."

"Hell, JD. Shut up! Ya have to make this so hard?" He felt the spark that touched his heart. He felt her touch as fingers without flesh seemed to meet. He looked down at his companion. "Which way do I go? You gonna sit there and grin, or you gonna tell me something?"

"Chris? Why are you here?"

"My choice, Sarah. My choice...back to pain and my friends, or home with you and Adam again. Got to choose my path. Where do I go? Can I come home with you?"

"If it's what you really choose...yes. But you must choose. We're here Chris...always here...waiting for you. If you want to leave the world and your friends behind, if it's gotten too hard to go on, come to us."

"I miss you."

"Why? We are always there, right here in your heart. You have us with you all the time."

"I won't have to hurt again. Nobody will hound me again."

"No...you won't have to hurt, but you won't know the worldly joy. You've only had a small time to discover what it is and what it means. We are in no pain now Chris, nothing bothers us here. We are content, and happy...but we can wait." Her face was before him, her eyes glowing soft in the love he had known with her. She kissed him and he felt the quick silver touch his soul. She held his son, and placed him in his arms.

"Papa...we can wait until it's time for you here, until you want to be with us. I love you, Papa. It won't be too long...for us."

Vin pulled him up, unyielding in his plea. "Chris...Chris...Hell Chris, don't go! I can't promise you life with no pain. I can't promise you it'll be easy or peaceful one damn bit. Seems all us are meant for the devil's road, but we need ya with us to make it a life and a fight worth a damn. I promise we'll watch your back better next time. We won't let the demons get so close. At least we'll be here to come find ya when it looks like hell's winning. Please, Chris...I know it's tempting to go with them, to be with them, to find that damn peace you're looking for, but please, Cowboy, tell them goodbye for now, that you'll see em later, and just for a while longer, you decide we're your home."

Vin reached out and placed one hand on the still form's chest, tears running freely and without embarrassment as he sought the heartbeat he could not feel. The other hands that waited gripped his shoulder and held on in desperation. One by one, their hands found each other, and bound themselves to each other as to the man. The desert sand blew across them, soft and quiet, and a coyote song sailed along the night.

" WHO ARE YOU!"

"Who are you?"

Vin's gaze never wavered from the man he held, sending his soul through his worried blue gaze as he heard a softly whispered hiss of air through the gunslinger's slack lips. Did this mean Chris had made his decision and was returning to them or was it the last breath of air he would take? Vin began to rock, his voice soft as he called to his brother. He smiled as he felt the strength of the five men surrounding him, but would that strength be enough to reach Chris Larabee.

"Sarah, Adam," he cried as he knelt before them. For a brief weary instant he'd been back in his earthly body and had cried out in rage at the nameless man who'd tortured him. In that instant he knew what his choice must be. Feeling the pain and horror of his tortured body was nothing compared to the intense feeling of loss that raged from the six men he called brothers. Their voices were suddenly clear as one by one they pleaded with him to come back, to choose to live, to choose the mortal pain, to choose to suffer the torment that came with his injured body. He looked up into her eyes as she touched his heart, her hand so warm and tender, and her face at peace.

"It's okay, Chris, you can go back. He will show you the way and your family will be there to help you heal."

"But how can I face the pain, Sarah? How can I do this again?"

"Chris, you are the strongest man I have ever met. A man whose heart is alive, whose soul is intact, and whose strength has never failed him. Adam and I have always watched over you, and I will not promise you a life without pain, for that would be a lie. I can promise you there will always be someone to watch your back, in your world as well as in this one. You must do what is in your heart, what you know is right," she said as she bent forward and kissed him.

"Papa, mama, and me will wait for you...we will be here...always and forever," Adam whispered, wrapping his arms around his father in a warm embrace.

Chris slowly stood up and felt them pulling away from him. His decision finally made as tears filled his eyes.

"I love you, Sarah and Adam Larabee...don't ever doubt that."

"How could we, Chris, we know who you are in here," Sarah said, her hand once more over his heart. "Go, they are waiting."

Nathan watched the slight rise and fall of the gunslinger's chest and felt his own heart skip a beat when nothing happened for a few seconds. ‘Come on, Chris!' he thought, praying for a sign that the man who'd saved his life more than once was not leaving them for good this time.

Chris held his breath and watched them for a few moments longer before turning to his traveling companion. For a brief second he saw admiration as the eyes once more changed from blue to green to blue once more.

"You tryin' to tell me I made the right decision?" he asked and heard what sounded like a sigh from the coyote. Chris began to walk away from his wife and son, but glanced over his shoulder to see them watching him. He turned back to his chosen path and saw the pain on six faces watching over his earthly form.

"Sure don't look that way to me!" he told the coyote, but knew in his heart he'd never regret this choice, that his family would be there for him when his time on earth finally ended.

"So how am I supposed to do this?" his only answer was a soft yelp.

"You're not much help!" he hissed as he reached the tiny fire. Closing his eyes he waited to see what would happen.

"Nathan?" Vin snapped, as it seemed to long since the chest showed any sign of movement.

"I think he's gone, Vin..." the healer's words were like daggers to each man's heart and he knew things would never be the same.

Josiah watched the chest, feeling the spirit's move around him as he watched the battered body held in the arms of the tracker. "Have faith," boys, he said, watching as the chest rose slightly, and the body bucked against the one holding him.

"Who are you?" the question seemed incredibly loud from a body that shouldn't have the strength to draw air into his lungs, yet there was no doubt who had said the words.

There were whoops and new tears as the chest heaved. They were somber as the body fought to take life, and fought to deny the pain.

"Come on, Cowboy. Come on, Chris. I know it's bound to be hell, but come on back."

"Vin, might not be coming back...might just be death throws."

"Shut up, Buck, don't give him any ideas."

"Wrong choice." The body seemed to whisper it, from somewhere far away. Then his chest fell back again.

"Chris, I know, but we're here. It's the right choice. Trust us. We'll take care of ya. We won't let ya down."

"Let me have him, Vin. Give him to me." Josiah solemnly lifted Chris' wet, pale body into his arms and laid him gently on the sand. He applied herbs to the man's mangled wrists, his forehead, and over his heart. He began to pray, quiet and penitent. "Lord, forgive your servants for doubting and for fearing your strength. Lord, if you will...help him come back. We need all the forces of your world to give him the courage and strength to accept this fight. His body is weak, and he needs your help. We know your power and your might. Help him, Lord. Help him to accept his hard choice and let him breath in fresh life." The big mans hands reached below the battered ribs, and raised the battered chest off the ground, slowly, but higher by bits until.

He breathed in the fires of hell that had held him captive on earth before the coyote had led him to peace. "WHO ARE YOU? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Breathe, Chris, breathe, we're here. We gotcha, and we ain't gonna let ya go back to nothing...not hell, or to heaven either. You've chosen to come back to us, to stay with us. We accept your choice with joy in our hearts. Now son, breathe, first you breathe, then you can rest."

The green eyes opened as the chest heaved and the mouth and throat gave up the suffocating dryness they had known. He wheezed and the tears fell from long dried eyes.

"Easy, Chris. Promise it's us. Ain't no illusion, ain't no dream. We're all here. Know it's bad, but we promise it's gonna stop. Come on...that's right...come on back."

"Vin?" It was a soft whisper. "Josiah?" Softer still. "Change my mind! Go back! Now!"

Buck reached out to touch his face, rubbing one of Nathan's salves into the reddened skin. "Sorry, Pard. You already made your choice. Sorry nothing left to do now 'cept fight."

Chris felt rather than heard the words as he drifted between the two worlds, but he knew he was home. His spirit accepted the change; his body screamed for release.

"Why? Why'd *you* have to...call *me* back?" The green eyes closed against the pain and the body cried. "No *more*...PLEASE."

"Easy, Chris. Ain't got enough in the world to make it all stop, but you take this. It'll at least help some. Don't give up...it's going to get better."

Chris didn't taste it; barely felt it slide down his throat until it burned its way into his lungs. "No more, Nath...n."

"Here...just a sip now...a little broth. JD tracked it. Buck cooked it."

It was cold as it slid down his throat. His body began to convulse, wanting to send it back, but he was so shriveled inside, he couldn't manage and didn't want to make the effort. The stuff stayed inside to irritate him, to make him cough, to make him hurt and cry and scream.

"Easy, Chris." He held to the voice, knowing it was Vin, gathering small comfort for his body where his soul knew he could.

"Stubborn." his eyes closed.

"No more than you. Took you a damn long time to make up your mind...had me worried there, Cowboy."

"No help! Nowhere."

"I'll get ya something better real soon, Chris, soon as the sun's rising, I'll find something."

Chris nodded imperceptibly and turned his head toward the voice. "Fine, Son." He lost consciousness and walked the line between the two worlds again.

"Josiah? Nathan? He ain't..."

"He's weak, Vin. It's still going to be a hard fight."

"But not alone. We're going to have help before long." It was Josiah's solemn promise.

"Help? Here in the middle of nowhere?" Ezra's eyes widened. "If you are telling me, Mr. Sanchez, that the spirits that you have felt tonight are going to show up to finish this healing ritual...please let me know when they plan to arrive. I am not suited to life among the spirits, not as you are."

"Then you best decide you can handle the visit. According to my words from Kojay, they're on their way."

"Ah, hell. I do hope I am appropriately dressed for the occasion."

"How'd you hear from Kojay, Josiah?"

"He has been with us this evening, Vin. He has walked the line between lives with Chris, though our friend probably didn't recognize him."

"Huh?" JD, in spite of what he'd heard, failed to truly believe what was said.

"Kojay, he walked with Chris as a comfort and companion."

"He made Chris choose us?" JD asked quietly.

"No. He felt our concern and need. He understood the road Chris would cross. He was merely a comfort and a companion. The decision was left to Chris."

"If they're coming, Josiah, I hope they're bringing something beside tribal medicine with them. I just don't have anything to help him fight this." Nathan feared his lack of supplies would hamper Chris' ability to fight.

"Nathan, my friend, they are bringing exactly what Chris needs for this time of trial. If Chris has truly made his choice, he will have what he needs."

"If? What 'if' he's been talking to us, Josiah. He's back." Buck's voice showed the fear he felt. He gripped Chris' arm firmer, "Look, Chris. You just can't..." His voice broke.

"His spirit still wars with itself. He walks on the edge of that choice. If his body weakens too much, he may still choose to abandon the pain and the fight, and return to peace in the other life."

"What does Kojay have that's going to help Chris decide to stay? Days coming. We don't get him out of the sun and into some comfort, he's going to die."

"Since Kojay is on that rise over there, leading the elders of his tribe, we will learn what he has brought and what we've gotta do before the sun comes to burn Chris again."

"He's here? I don't see him, Josiah. How do you know?"

"Look again."

The lone coyote walked to the top of the ridge and sang his bone chilling song. As if in unison, from the depths of his tortured mind, Chris cried out his pain, bidding his companion's return to his side, and gave in to unconsciousness again.

"All I see is a coyote, Josiah." JD frowned as he searched the sky.

"Just because your eyes tell you what you see is a coyote, Son, doesn't mean that's what's there. Look closer...with your heart instead of your eyes," Sanchez explained.

Dawn was spreading her wings across the land, bringing with it the promise of another spectacular sunrise. Six men watched as the coyote disappeared and in its place came what could only be described as a parade.

"Who are they?" Dunne asked, his voice filled with awe at the approaching band.

"I do believe those are the elders of Kojay's tribe...the spiritual consultants Mr. Sanchez advised us of. I pray that they are coming baring more than just..."

"Kojay and the elders don't ever bring ‘just' anything, Ez," Tanner said.

"You hear that, Chris? Helps on the way," Jackson said, worried about the fact there was no longer any sign of perspiration on Larabee's body. He knew this was a sign of dehydration, and in Chris' condition it could prove fatal.

Chris knew he had to fight, but his body and soul were tired. His heart beat in his chest, but it felt as if every beat grew softer, every breath of air was a struggle for him. He could hear their voices and understood they were trying to help, but the pain was his world now, and nothing could get past it. He found himself wishing he could take back his decision and find the peace he craved as the six men continued to call to him. He felt them drawing him out once more, bringing him back to the hell's fire that burned through his body, reminding him of the man who'd sent him there.

"...no...tired...can't...do this...n...no m...more...okay...no more..."

"Easy, Chris, help's on the way. They'll be here soon," Wilmington said, hoping his soothing words would get through the trembling man on the ground.

"I...I do...don't k...know y...you...D...Durango...t...two men...ba...bank note. K...knife! O...Oh J...Jesus...not again!"

The blond's voice tore at the hearts of his friends as they watched the advancing men. The ones they prayed would be able to show Chris the right path. A path they knew would be as hard as the torture heaped on him by the man who'd taken him captive.

"Durango? Buck, you know him longer than the rest of us. Do you know anything about Durango?"

"I was there once with Chris...long time ago...we had trouble, but I don't remember it having to do with two men or a knife at that time. Ain't for sure I knew him when he ran into that one," he explained as Vin soaked a piece of cloth and again tried to sooth the injured man.

"N...NOOOOOO! D...do...don't...bas...tard!" Larabee verbally cursed whoever he was seeing and fought against the tracker as the young man tried to hold him down.

"Nathan!"

"Just hang on to him, Vin. He's not seeing you...he's seeing whoever did this to him," Jackson explained, kneeling beside the gunslinger.

"Easy, Brother, Kojay will walk with you again. He'll help you realize the choice you made is a righteous one, of this I am sure," Sanchez said, as the tribal elders grew closer. He counted the horses and men and knew these men had come prepared to do battle to save this white man. A man they knew little about, yet felt he deserved their council.

"G...God...do...don't cut me any...more!" Larabee screamed as if a real knife was slicing through him again instead of the imaginary one only he could see.

The sun began its ascent into the sky as the promise of salvation rode towards the band of seven men.

"Why?" The coyote stretched beside him again, blue eyes looking into his own. It whimpered and stretched a paw in his direction. The bandana, now red, lay across a brown breast, confusing him. "Knew it would hurt. Why hurt more?"

There was no answer.

"Think I deserve this?" He could see the thing that was himself, lying on the sand, fighting for air and life. "Gonna be like this long?"

The coyote sat up and howled, making Chris shiver. It walked a short distance away, walking out into the trickle that ran past the body beyond. It began to drink.

"Thirsty." The river, where the coyote drank, shifted course, and it flowed toward Chris' lips, promising drink and coolness for his fire scorched body.

From his left, a hot wind flamed and drove the trickle back. He whimpered as the promise was driven deep into the soil, showing red and bloody, as it drew his strength away with it.

"No more. Thought I chose to go back. Whatever this is, I don't want anymore." He knew that he faced the darkness now. His choice had put him back at the door of life, but also closer to hell. "No...no...I don't want to do this."

"No...no...I don't want..." The body felt the horror's approach as well as the soul.

"Easy, I got ya Chris. I got your back. We all got ya, and I ain't gonna leave ya. We'll take it on together. You just hang on and be ready to fight."

"Vin?" Buck searched the trackers eyes. "What is it? Do you know what's going on?"

"No. But his heart's beating like a son-of-a-bitch. Too fast...way to fast. Nathan?

"Trying to pump enough blood to keep him alive. He's trying to live. Keep talking to him Vin."

Something approached him, and the coyote retreated before its advance, silently, as if it knew the horror the thing brought "Don't go...please, don't go...help me...can't you stop this?"

It approached, out of vision, he felt its approach, and felt cold and alone. The coyote stepped beyond him, not totally out of sight. Chris heard it begin to growl.

The thing would not be denied its prey and raised the blood dripping blade in its hand, ignored the animal that stood watch. The knife touched Chris' heart, his beating, living heart, and began to slice it from his body. He screamed, "WHO ARE YOU! GOD NO! NOT AGAIN!"

The thing turned toward him...the knife piercing the last slice free...and Chris screamed, and screamed, and screamed. He heard the coyote's growl.

"No, Chris...no Chris...ain't nothing to hurt ya now. Ain't nobody hurting ya now. We ain't gonna let nothing hurt ya. Come on back. Come back, Chris."

Vin knew Chris talked to the dead thing. "No face...no face...no face...NO MORE, NO MORE...I won't let you...I won't let you. They won't let you...not again...Buck! VIN!" He turned his face from the thing, and closed his eyes. For a moment, all stood perfectly still.

"That's right. I got ya. We all got ya. Chris, he can't hurt you ever again. Send that demon bastard back to hell...he's gone...he can't hurt you ever again. You tell that thing he can't have ya no more cause we got ya now!" Vin held him to his chest and thought he felt Chris' heart grow still. "Nathan? Josiah?"

"Wait. Just hold him, my son. His battle has begun. Your presence helps him to be strong. Now, he will fight." As Vin looked up into smoky brown eyes, Kojay lay hands on the struggling man's chest and closed both their eyes. Immediately, the coyote called, and Kojay began his song.

Something gave him peace. The thing no longer mattered. He knew it for the horror it had been, the nothing that it was. The coyote sniffed the thing once, and grinned. It still had no face, but it also held no heart. As he returned to the man, he stretched against his side, and lay still and watching. Chris trembled until he felt the companion's warmth deep inside.

"Think that thing's gone?" The coyote yawned. "Good. ‘Fraid I WASN'T dreaming that time." From his other side, he felt something stir, and fear rose again. The coyote beside him rose and yipped as the coyote with the red bloody chest appeared again at his side.

"Two of ya? Thing must have been straight out of hell. Don't think I want to fight that one any more...not now. The rest of this is gonna be a bitch...right? Well, since there's no rest for the wicked, guess I best get back to work. This is gonna definitely be a bitch."

"NO MORE...no more..." The green eyes opened as Chris screamed again. Tears ran from his eyes as he recognized the blue of the one who held him. The voice, so weak, so quiet fought to tell them something.

"What is it, Chris? What? Come on, Chris. We got ya? Don't you go anywhere again. This ain't time to rest. Ya got work to do, Pard."

He coughed and shut his eyes against the pain "Don't ...ever ...let me...do this...again." He rested a time, accepting the cool sip of water against his lips. He drew strength again from the hands that had not let him go. When he could focus again, he finally fixed on smoky brown eyes. "You decide to come along? Think you're both gonna be sorry." He cried out again and shut his eyes hard against the pain. Later, he looked up at blue eyes that seemed to come in fours. "Right choice, boys, but it's a bitch."

The spirit, now home, closed his eyes and decided to let the body rest for a while before he rode it back through the fire.

Vin continued to hold him, but his eyes were now on Kojay. The tribal elder was wise beyond his years, and Vin knew when the time came he would need to give over control to this man who knew things that few white men believed in.

"He will need you to be strong for him...here..." Kojay said and touched the tracker's chest. "And here," this time the touch was to the forehead.

"I'll do anythin' for him...we all would!" Tanner said and watched as five men nodded their agreement.

"You just tell us what you need!" Jackson told the elderly Indian.

"We are preparing things for the next part of his journey. It will be hard...and he will need to know he is not alone."

"He's never been alone," Sanchez said as he watched the preparations being made.

"He is a lucky man to have six brothers who care so much that they could bring him back from his first choice. He was ready to leave this life behind for the two spirits who wait for him. His choice was a hard one and one he will regret at times over the coming days," Kojay explained, laying his wrinkled hand over Chris Larabee's heart. He closed his eyes and began speaking in his native language before looking at the men surrounding him. "His heart is strong, but it has a terrible burden...it must beat twice its normal times to keep the blood still in his body moving through him. Help him to fight. Place your hands on him and show him your strength. Show him you are not ready to let him go!"

Vin held onto his friend as one at a time they came to the gunslinger. JD's hand touched the right shoulder, while Nathan's landed on his left. Ezra knelt in the dirt, ignoring the fact that his clothing would become soiled and placed his hand at Larabee's right knee, while Josiah's large, callused hand touched the left knee.

Buck was last and he came forward, adding his strength to the mix by placing his hand over Vin Tanner's. The young tracker's left hand was directly over the gunslinger's heart and felt the blue eyes turn his way. A slight nod of the head told him he'd made the right choice.

Chris felt the hands on his body and knew they were calling him back again. The coyotes were at his feet once more, encouraging him to continue his fight. He took a deep breath, and readied himself for a return to the hell of his own body.

"...p...please..."

"Hey, stud, you just lie still now, we got ya...all of us...we got your back and ain't nothin' can move us!" Wilmington vowed.

"...B...Buck...t...tell...Na...than..."

"I'm right here, Chris," Jackson said.

"We all are," Dunne joined in.

"Mr. Larabee, you are in the company of..." Standish began.

"...family..." the blond wheezed, desperately fighting to stay awake...afraid now of the journey he knew they'd need to undertake.

"Easy, Brother," Sanchez said and felt fever bright eyes turn towards him as the preparations continued.

"...Josiah...f...face...hell's...fire..."

"Yes, Son, we do," the older man told him, making sure he understood he would not be alone.

The first bit of pain made his spirit waiver. Chris seemed to float somewhere, still held between the paths of peace and hell's fire. He feared what was going to come next. There was more than fear. There would be sorrow, immense fatigue, intense need, and pain like he had never known. He needed strength and courage that he no longer had. No-name had taken that from him. He wasn't certain he knew how to get it back.

He could see the body again, but this time he saw many people beside it. They each held to it, like it was a thing of importance. Somehow, in the place where he was, it didn't seem to matter that much anymore. A part of him wanted all these people to leave him alone...to let him just go...to stop talking to him...stop pulling at him...to not expect so much of him. If they would just let him go, he could find peace again. He could forget the horrible pain that waited for him every time they drew him back toward them and their troubled world, the place that would be filled with pain. He had felt the pain before, and he doubted his ability to do it and stay sane again.

But yet, it meant something to him. These believed in him...the white men and the red men who had come to help. He understood his friends' need, but why did the red men believe in him, or in his decency. Few in his life had thought of him as worthy of respect, friendship, and love. There had been precious few that wanted him in their life...and most of them were much too far away or far too long gone to know of his need, offer him solace and escape from the grief that had surrounded his life. Only these and a few others would consider him worthy.

Maybe that was why he had determined to accept this road back to the life he had known, to the hell that waited. He wanted so much to know why they found him worthy, and why they meant so much to him that he was willing to turn his spirit away from the peace he knew he craved and return to the path that meant embracing all the things going back would mean.

The coyotes rested near him still, bringing him comfort in his dilemma. He felt their presence as the winds shifted and a softly chanted song seemed to surround him. As much as the sound of his friends' voices had enticed him to return, the chant brought courage that let him know he would indeed go back, and when he did, he would find the answers that he sought. The coyotes sang as one with the chant he heard, and he took comfort from their voices. He understood that the time had come to finish this thing he had chosen to do. He knew it would be a long and brutal task he had chosen. He closed his eyes; his only thought a prayer for the strength and courage to go back again.

"NOOOOOO!" His chest heaved as he felt the fire-like pain. For a moment he cried out and sobbed, regretting his decision. He had known it would be bad, but he hadn't known just how deep the pit of hell could be. The thing was there again, trying to come for him again. "GET AWAY FROM ME! YOU'RE DEAD! BACK TO HELL! WHO ARE YOU! WHO ARE YOU! PLEASE!"

A sound soothed him, sang to him, letting him know the time of returning had begun. He tried to open his eyes, but his need to avoid the pain made him clamp them tighter. He felt the body, his body, jolt repeatedly as the horror of living began.

"Easy, Chris. Easy. We're here. We're not gonna let ya go. We're gonna be right here, and that sonofabitch is right where you want him. He's in hell. He ain't ever gonna hurt ya again. He's in hell."

"So am I! PLEASE! Burns. Please...wanna go...can't DO THIS!" He spat something metal into the dirt.

"Easy, Chris."

Something cold stabbed his face. Something more pressed against his stomach as wave after wave of stabbing pain found him over and over again. As he screamed and burned, hands forced ice through his hair. Chris began to shiver, the body to feel every bit of pain the mind knew would come, and he screamed and grabbed for the hands that held him. "No...no...please, NO!"

"Listen to the song, my friend. It will help you to find ease. Listen, and rest."

"Josiah? Please, Josiah, tell the coyotes. Tell them I've changed my mind. Can't, please!"

"Stud, we ain't letting ya change your mind. But we're here. You let us know what you need."

"Buck...saw them Buck. Held them. Let me go. You know how hard it's been. Let me go...AAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Please...let me go back. Enough. Please, let it be enough."

"I'm sorry, Chris. I just can't let ya go. I'm just a bastard for wanting ya to go through this, but I need ya. I need ya here. You hold on. It'll be enough real soon. I promise ya we'll make it better."

"Come on, Cowboy. I need ya too. We all need ya, Chris. You're back, and I know you're in pain, but you're gonna be okay. Now, I'm gonna go help get a place ready so's you can rest. Hang on. Won't be gone long."

"Don't leave. Don't leave me. It's COMING!"

"Ain't gonna leave ya, Chris. We've got ya with us...all six of us. And that thing ain't ever coming to hurt you again. We've got your back."

"Vin? Was you, wasn't it? Wasn't it you?"

"That's right, Cowboy. Was me...was all of us...we're right here to help you get back home. That's the way. You open those eyes. You see we're here. Be real still, I've got some water to get down your throat. You need lots and lots of water. Then, we've got to get ya out of the sun. "Fore long, it's gonna be another day, and we wanna make sure it's a whole lot better than yesterday. I'll only be gone a bit. You just listen to the boys. They've got ya. You can let go the fear, and you can rest."

Chris looked up as the tracker stood and walked away. He wished he had the strength to go with him, but that strength was far beyond his capability. He tried to move anyway, and cried out as his body came to life with pain.

"Don't try to move, Chris," Jackson ordered, as the others stood and moved to help Vin ready a shelter for the injured man.

"G...God...Na...than...make it s...stop," Larabee's voice filtered up through the sounds of pain escaping his tight lipped mouth and cut deep into the healer's heart.

"We're tryin' Chris. Ya just have ta rest," Jackson told him.

"C...can't rest...s...see things...n...not s...safe..."

"Yes, you are safe, Chris. Ain't no one here gonna hurt ya. We're all gonna make sure you stay here with us. It's where ya belong."

"...belong..." Larabee wheezed, taking shallow breaths in an effort to still his quaking chest.

"That's right...you belong here...gonna be a fight still, but ya won't be alone." The healer watched as heavy lids slowly sank over green eyes. He knew the gunslinger was asleep, yet the lines of pain were still present, and tiny beads of perspiration made a trail down into the matted blond hair. He sat by his friend, watching as white man and red man worked together to build a shelter for the injured peacekeeper. He cradled Larabee's head in his lap and gently washed the fevered body with water from the trickle beside him. He lost track of time as fear gripped his healer's heart each time the gunslinger seemed to stop breathing. His own lungs would fill with air only when the gunman's did.

"Nathan, we're ready to move him inside," Sanchez said as the five men rejoined him.

"It's gonna set him off all over again," the former slave said, knowing the move needed to be made, but dreading what they were about to put Chris Larabee through again.

"No choice, Nate," Wilmington assured him, kneeling beside the unconscious man.

"Maybe he'll sleep through it," Dunne suggested.

"I doubt that very much, Mr. Dunne. We're about to stir up what Mr. Larabee termed Hell's fire once more," Standish said.

"Ain't no point in yackin' ‘bout it," Tanner told them. "Can't leave him out in the sun...that means we gotta get ‘im inside. Kojay's got furs in there ta make ‘im comfortable."

"Alright, guess we'd best get it done then," Jackson said, watching as the elders of Kojay's tribe formed a line on either side of the shelter.

"How do you want to do this, Brother?" Sanchez asked.

"We need ta keep him as straight as possible. Gonna be a bitch of a ride no matter what we do. Ezra, JD, you two got his legs, but be damn careful of the cuts. Buck, Josiah, you boys get his shoulders. Vin, me and you are gonna have ta handle his gut and that's gonna be the biggest problem. He's gonna hurl, but we gotta do this." Jackson eased the gunslinger's head off his lap and placed it gently on the ground. He stood up and made sure the circulation was back in his own legs as the five men took up position around the prone man.

They all heard the regret in Jackson's voice, yet there was nothing they could do.

"Okay, let's get it done!" the former slave said, watching as five sets of hands moved to their assigned locations and gently lifted the precious burden.

Chris felt the warmth of their touch and smiled inwardly as their strength seemed to flow into him. He relaxed, knowing these hands would not hurt him, but his eyes widened in terror as his body was lifted from the ground.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" He thought he screamed it, but the sound was like a soft whisper on the winds. He tried to get away from the touch, his mind racing as his heart beat a staccato beat against his ribs. Hell's fire was back and with it came the man who'd sent him there. No name, and now no face, yet the terror Chris felt was real as again he felt the knife slice into his body. He turned his head as vomit and bile rose in his throat and ran from the corners of his mouth.

"Jesus, Nathan, should we put him down?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

"We put ‘im down, we're just gonna ‘ave ta do it again, Buck. Keep moving. Vin talk ta ‘im," the healer ordered as the nauseating smell of puke mingled with sweat.

"Hey, Cowboy, ya jest take it easy. We got ya and ain't nothing gonna be hurtin' ya while we got yer back," Tanner explained as Kojay lifted the flap on the shelter.

"V...Vin...Jesus...h...help...no name...no face...c...cutting me..."

"Ain't no one cuttin' ya, Chris. No name is dead and in hell where he belongs," the tracker said as they entered the slightly cooler shelter.

"...c...can't st...top the fi...fire...hell's fire," Larabee wheezed as they lowered him to the soft furs.

Buck watched the work with admiration and awe. "How'd they come up with this place, Vin? There ain't no wood like this in this desert. There's rock, but not the kind they've got. It'll keep off the sun, but what's it gonna do for how bad he's hurt?"

"All I know is it looks like some kind of sweat lodge. Don't think Chris needs nothing to make him think just yet. Figure he'd rather not think about much of nothing as much pain as he's got to face."

Chris was aware of it, too, but only on a small level of awareness. He felt part of the fear retreating as the square wooden structure rose from the sand with him inside it. He lay close to a small central fire pit, filled with stones. Large ewers to hold water stood nearby. At the corner of the lodge that he could see, stood small stone-surrounded pits.

He had no reason to know what they meant, but somehow he knew they would hold wood for dry heat. Along the sides, leading to the circle of stones in every direction, was a large area meant to hold those who would participate. It seemed fully large enough to hold every man there. He shivered as he wondered why so many men needed so much fire.

Josiah approached his two friends, watching the tribal men build the structure that would hold and shelter their friend as he was given life and strength again. He had yet to tell the others of his own kind that the structure was a place of rest, yes, but in this tribe's beliefs it symbolized the coming death and rebirth of their leader. Chris Larabee had been right to believe he faced Hell's Fire. Josiah closed his eyes and prayed his friend would be able to endure it and return to them fast.

"This is indeed a sweat lodge, Vin. However, this one isn't meant for meditation alone. This is a special lodge to bring healing powers into focus for someone who is seriously injured. How Kojay and his firewalkers could put this together and get it here so fast is the true miracle. When Chris is well, we'll have to ask Kojay some serious questions about the exact nature of the spirits at work here."

"Mr. Sanchez, you are saying that Chris Larabee is the entire reason that such a medical facility has become available in the middle of the badlands, at this particular moment? I for one am beginning to remember the veritable horrors of those who practice Voodoo in New Orleans. Such practices sent terror through my very soul."

"Ez," Josiah placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "there are spirits of darkness as well as spirits of light. Kojay and his firewalkers bring only the light. They mean Chris nothing but good."

"If you say so, Mr. Sanchez. If you say so."

He knew when the building stopped, and the light of the sun was blotted out. He had a sense of a large, square place that seemed to hold a life of its own. It quickly filled with men...some as large as Kojay's spirit, some as small as JD. Rough hands, soft hands, all kinds of hands touched him now, holding him as a soft chant surrounded him like a living thing. He knew they promised help, comfort, healing, but he stared into the eyes of the thing that cut him and he screamed.

"Please...STOP! NO MORE!" The coyotes growled and he felt safe again. The fear abated for a while.

The place was hot, stifling hot, yet he was cold. He couldn't move. The thing now sat beside him, playing with the knife that shone even in darkness. Faceless, nameless, it glared at him as if each look would pierce him again. He remembered the knife that had cut out his heart, and he screamed. The song grew stronger, hands reached out for him again; water cooled the fire and bathed him with strange smelling mists. The thing moved to the edge of the walls and waited. Time without ending, the hands came and held him again and again, mouths whispered comfort in his ears. When the darkness seemed to close in, blue eyes bright, the coyote lay again, against his back. In the darkness, where he could not see, yet saw everything, the larger coyote lay between his resting place and the thing. Safe now, he listened to the song and found a margin of comfort, a bit of rest.

"My friends, his spirit needs comfort. You have given him comfort until now, but he needs a new comfort as well. My fire walkers will care for him now."

The thought of leaving his friend was a sharp sting to Wilmington's mind. "We

ain't leaving him, Kojay. I know you want to help him, but we're gonna be beside him every step of the way. We promised him we'd be here."

"I agree this is a must...you must be near him at all times. For a while, his fire walkers must make contact and show his spirit that we walk with him as well as his brothers. The coyote spirits say that you must make a ring around this resting place. You rest, you join yourselves with our chants and prayers, you send to him your own prayers, and you see him as he will be again...strong, well, back among you. You have called him back to life, and with our help, we will all call him back to health."

"How long will it take, Kojay?" Josiah knelt beside Chris and realized that his friend slept, but the man's now whispered words told of a tormented soul.

"You, his brothers, must come to him as the walkers feel his need. You will come to him when his need is for more than comfort, when he needs powerful protection and great courage. You men know him and can tell him what he needs to remember about the good he has done. You will each bring to him your own special gifts...the memories of why you are so willing to fight for him."

"What do your fire walkers bring, Kojay?" Vin reached out and put his hand on Chris' arm, sensing the continuing pain that disrupted his rest.

"We, his fire walkers, sent to comfort and guide him, are also sent to heal his flesh. Some of our number know the use of plants and herbs, as does your friend Nathan. Together, they will bring the things that will heal his body. Others of us, with your friend who is so strong in the spirit, will help him to leave behind the fear and pain he now knows. This is a long road for him. When he once again realizes that he is facing his own chosen journey, he will reach for the healing of the hands he feels about him, and he will make his way home."

"Nathan! He's in trouble. He's bleeding again."

"My friends, his body wars with the forces of darkness. The ring must be made and kept. Of our walkers, Curahan will sit with you in the place reserved for your healer. As one of you enters the resting place, one of our group will take his place. The ring must not be allowed to break, and you must not sleep. To help keep you be strong, Malah has prepared a potion that you must now drink as you prepare your place of waiting. I urge you to take to that place the thoughts you will bring to this man as he continues his journey. For now, I will prepare my own place, here in this hut, so that I too can bring him my gift."

"Boys, I know it may not sound like we're gonna do much for Chris, but I trust Kojay and his people, and Nathan's gonna be there to watch for us. Let's do what we've been asked to do. You do think this is the best, don't ya Josiah?"

"Vin, if we all keep our vigil, wait, and pray, I believe we will soon see him return. We've got to do everything we're asked to do, and we've got to trust Kojay's medicine to be what can make Chris strong. My spot's there, toward the rising sun. Vin?"

"I got the door. All he needs to do is call just once, and I'm there."

"I'm same side as Vin...door. Case that things comes at him again. Want him to know we're here. JD, you got west, Ez you got the back wall?" Buck got his nod and they all spread out to begin their vigil for Chris.

Each man drank of the potion offered by Malah. They didn't question the power they felt as it washed through their mouths and down their throats. They needed to be ready to do what was needed, to help bring back the man who meant so much to all of them. The potion seemed to have some power over their minds, yet they could think clearly, more clearly than normal, in spite of the strange intensity in their minds.

That Chris was hot, was a given, that he lay in the throes of nightmares, ones that he'd lived in his life, was not lost on any of them as he cried out names from his past. Each time he screamed out a name a new song joined the others, soothing his fears, helping him cope with the pain of a body injured beyond comprehension.

"NO...God...help me!" he raged as no name moved closer once more. In his hand he held the blade that he used to ravage Chris Larabee's body, now it was being used to flash bright light in the injured man's eyes.

The coyote nestled close to his back snarled, driving back the hideous figure, but unable to make it disappear completely as other dark forms moved in. Before long there were several figures surrounding the nameless, faceless man who meant to finish the job he'd started. To kill Chris Larabee and bring his immortal soul to burn forever in Hell's fire.

Chris' eyes grew round, like green saucers as he watched the enemies long since defeated come back to haunt him. He trembled uncontrollably despite the heat rising in waves from his body. He heard voices, soothing chants, some he understood, others were unintelligible, yet he understood they were meant to sooth his troubled journey.

"No...no! Away...get away!" Chris fought with the one-eyed man. "You're gonna hang... you're going to hell." The specter's knife cut into his body and he screamed and fought. The song seemed to come from somewhere close to him. Hands lifted him and poured something cool past his lips even as he fought. The song shifted, and then a different shape blocked the space between him and the minion. He knew this shape, knew the comfort of its voice...he knew it would protect him. "Buck!"

"I'm here...What wrong, Chris? It ain't gonna hurt ya...ain't nothing gonna hurt ya any more...not long as we're here."

"Cutting...me..."

"Who, Stud? Who? That thing that hurt you...it's gone back to hell. And we won't let it come back."

"Spikes...Spikes...Hung him..." Chris began to cough, the pain making him cry out. He heard a warm, wet hiss and felt the pain lessen.

"Ya didn't do nothing to Spikes the jury didn't decide he deserved. Ya didn't seal his fate, Pard. He did it to himself. You just carried out the sentence. Know it was rough on ya, Chris...even if you knew full well what a bastard that man was."

"CUTTING ME...please..."

"Ain't Spikes, Chris. I'm sorry, but truth be told, that's Nathan. He has to do it...but ya know he'll stop all this just as soon as he can. He's sewing up those cuts to your gut. You just hold on to ole Buck and we'll get ya through this. ‘Fore long, it'll be all over and you'll be doing just fine."

A shape he didn't recognize touched him, and he pulled back in fear. Yet it didn't hurt him. It raised his head and put liquid down his throat. He saw the thing...the shape... finally knew it was a man. The man put hands against his chest. There was power there, and there was a smell of something hot. But the heat didn't burn. More liquid followed the first and the warmth filled his chest. The man moved away, and the song rose and covered him.

"Chris...should help the pain. Gonna get through real, real soon." The voice was rich and soothing, but the pain was agony, and he fought.

"Easy, Chris. Hold on. Got the first one done. First one's finished...one less to go. Rest a little."

"Nathan?" He gripped the hand of the one who hurt him, yet somehow he felt no fear.

The man with powerful hands raised his head again and a cooler liquid slid down his throat. "Who are you?"

Another shape...one he knew, but couldn't name...knelt beside him. "This fire walker is called Malan. He sings for you now. Listen to his song, and you will find rest. Drink, let the gift of this drink soothe your pain. Rest,"

"You're a good man, Chris. You know Spikes ain't got no complaints. You let him talk with Josiah ‘fore you put him to the rope, and ya wouldn't let nobody mistreat him on his walk. You remind ole Spikes that you did your best for him. It just ain't your fault if he's in hell. At least ya helped him die like a man."

Chris nodded and closed his eyes. Drifting. The big coyote growled deep in its throat, and Spikes faded away. Chris moaned, but then seemed to ease a bit as the liquid relieved his mind and his pain.

"DON'T CUT ME! PLEASE NOT AGAIN!"

"Easy, Chris. I got your back...we've all got your back. Your safe, cowboy."

"Simmons...Simmons...please, just a little drink. Just a little...hurts! So thirsty...hurts!"

The one he talked with, the one he heard but couldn't seem to find, provided instant comfort. Another one knelt beside him now, and he hissed as it rubbed his skin, extinguishing a little of the fire even as the touch made him ache, seemingly to the core of his bones. That one hummed to him. He felt a need to see the face of this one, but when he opened his eyes he shrank back in shock. The knife scarred features smiled and the fear diminished.

"Ya ain't in Jericho no more, Chris."

"GET AWAY! You're dead...you're both dead...don't hurt me again. You're dead! I killed you both. GET AWAY FROM ME! Pit...Pit...Snakes...NO!"

"Chris...easy, Chris. You didn't kill Simmons. He's fine."

"Killed you both...GET AWAY!"

"Come on, Chris. Weren't nothing bad you done there."

Chris' eyes opened, unseeing, glaring with hate. "Lookin' for me, Sheriff?"

"Oh, I fergot that one, Chris. Warden in yer head, too?"

"Leave him alone. Leave him alone."

"It's okay, Chris. Those two ain't here. They're in hell. From what I's told, ya saved that other prisoner. Hadn't been fer you, he'd a been beat to death. He's gone home to his family, more than grateful. And shoot, Simmons's been there in Corners enough to stick your mangy hide. Ya may've wanted ta kill him, but so far, you've let him live. Way I look at it, it's mighty kind a ya."

Suddenly he felt as if his arm was clasped tight in another...wrist to arm. He reached for it, find his own arm unheld, but still felt strength driving the bloated specter and the one with the oozing guts into the far recesses of his mind.

"Shouldn't have done it. Snake, Vin...snake...set snake on him. Cut him...didn't have to."

"Just went through hell yourself that time, pard. It was them or you. Don't nobody think ya done nothing wrong. Just rest. I got yer back...we all got yer back."

"Thirsty. Water?"

The scared face answered, a few, soft unintelligible words, but uttered with a cup filled with clean tasting water. Chris drank, then lay back exhausted. "Malah?"

"Nantama." The smile was in place as the man pointed to himself.

"Nan---nan-tama?" It took effort to ask, but the response proved the man was real. The specters, the damned souls that tormented him spoke only in his mind. He sighed and tried again, "Nan-----tama."

"Lar-a-bee." The hand of Nan-tama touched his chest, then made him vomit as it rubbed more something into his bones. As he grappled with the fire, the man offered him more of the cool liquid; once again the pain seemed to fade.

"Th---thanks." He felt himself begin to drift, welcoming the lessening of the pain.

"B...BITCH!" he screamed it, he was sure he did, but the smile on the face told him she didn't care what he called her. That she was here told him she must be dead, or else he couldn't be seeing her. He tried to move, sending shockwaves through his body as she touched him. He watched as her mouth twisted with insane glee, her lips parting and a forked tongue slipped from between them. A fetid odor assailed his senses and he tried to awaken his mind, but he was stuck. Stuck in a hell that only he understood, only he felt he deserved since finding out she'd been the one to take his beloved wife and son from him.

"NO...didn't k...kill...you...c...can't be here!"

"She is not, Mr. Larabee. I assure you that vile creature is nowhere near you!"

"Ez? That you? She's here...can see her...wants me...BITCH!" His head was lifted and again something ran down the back of his throat, cooling the hell's fire that burned from within. His head was placed back on the furs and his eyes opened, but he saw only the specters that haunted his fever baked mind.

"NO! Won't go with you! BITCH...can't take me...they're stronger than you!"

"That is correct, Mr. Larabee, we are stronger, and we add our strength to yours. None of them can hurt you as long as you let us help. Listen, hear the words...feel the strength... lean on us...your family...we will stop them...together!"

"Hear that, Ella Gaines? D...don't know if you're rea...really dead, but even if you're not you can't hurt me...can't...cut me!" His eyes grew wide again as something stabbed at his leg. He tried to reach for the offender, but his hands were clasped and held tightly.

"Rest, Mr. Larabee, that's Mr. Jackson cleaning your leg. It won't be much longer and things will be better for you."

"Not Ella?" the blond's voice was surprised as he watched the dark haired woman slowly recede and be replaced by a man he knew and trusted. He could see Jackson working his magic on the wounds to his leg, but anything else was lost as waves of nausea rolled through his stomach. He wanted to move away, but there was no strength left in his body, at least not the kind needed for such a move.

"No, that distasteful apparition was never here! Mr. Jackson is doing what needs to be done to ensure your survival."

"H...hurts..."

"Undoubtedly, but it is necessary that it be completed. Listen to the chant..."

"...okay..." He listened, as the soft chant grew louder, surrounding him in a sense of peace. He sank deeper, moving away from the men he knew, as the coyotes seemed to call to him. Words and feelings followed him, giving him the rest his body craved. He felt the pain receding with consciousness, but the soft sounds he heard did nothing to ease his mind. He felt his heart skip a beat as he realized there was still more to his fight, more to be resolved before his journey ended.

"Hi, Chris."

"JD? I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Chris. Who was that man? Why'd he want to hurt you so much?"

"Don't know. Just don't know. He's back."

"Back? I'm sorry, Chris, but he can't be back no place. He's dead. Something ripped out his throat and he didn't have any face. Trust me, he ain't coming back."

"Sitting right here, JD. Sitting there, next to you...playing with that damn shiny knife.

Gonna gut me again. You stay away from him, son. Don't want ya gettin' hurt on account of me."

"Always trying to keep me safe, Chris. This time, you rest, let me help you. I can do this, Chris...I ain't a kid."

"Are compared to me. Good kid, smart kid. Always trying too hard to be like me. Damn kid, be who you are...be better off for it. Hell, even my old man didn't like me." Chris reached out to grasp the hand on the too young man. The hand wasn't there, but the young strength of him remained with Chris. He turned his head to the thing that sat and stared from faceless eyes. "Go to hell...you stay away from him. You hurt him, or any of mine; I'll follow you through hell for all eternity. Ain't right JD ain't never done anything to ya. LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

"Now, Chris. Ain't nobody here, ain't nobody gonna cut ya. JD's fine, keeping vigil for ya. Only got to go through a little more for now."

"Nathan...Nathan, please stop. Just a bit. Please...stop...please...so tired."

"Chris, easy. Sorry...but I think we've got everything now...least everything on your front. Gonna give ya something so we can turn ya over."

"No, please, Nathan. Tell them to stop...please, don't let him cut me again." Chris felt the hands again...the hands he had trusted for comfort and strength. The hands braced him, and he saw them all...his family, his new friends. They looked at him in sorrow and pity, then they held him tight and lay him on his stomach. Chris screamed.

There was no thing to stare at him, no specters to threaten. He didn't need any of that to torment him now. He lay on his stomach, the fire everywhere around him and in him, and they started on his hips.

"NOOO. Please Nathan...no...not that, please...don't cut...don't let them cut...don't let them..."

"My son...tell me your sorrow. Have you been put through more than fire."

"Josiah...Promised me he wouldn't. Was a coward, Josiah. Was a coward...don't tell others...coward...coward...so afraid...begged, Josiah...I begged..." Tears rolled down the face he wore, and his body's eyes saw the big man who held him as if he were a tortured child. Chris felt the shame...all the shame he had felt at Jericho...and he cried out his shame. Hands held him again, but not to make him hurt...the hands gave the courage Chris thought he had lost.

"We all have our fears, Chris. This fear is probably the worst you've ever faced. After the warden hurt you so horribly at Jericho, violated you so cruelly, I'm certain it would be something you will always remember in your soul. But we know your fear, and how you've fought that fear. We know about that fear and pain in your soul, Chris, and we know the man you are, the man the good Lord made you. We know your strength and the compassion you have for so many, when you have hurt so much yourself. You are a truly good man, Chris, with a hero's heart. We are all here for you this time...all of us. You sleep now, and know that nothing can bring that horror back to you again. Listen to me, son...you have defeated that fear and horror long ago, now. You don't have anything to cause you shame. You have nothing to be sorry for, not anymore...and that thing that wants you to remember all your pain...you just look it in the eye and tell it that the good Lord is with you, and with the Lord and you're friends here with you, you just won't let it hurt you anymore. Rest, Chris...we're here. Rest."

"No...no...leave me alone. Don't hurt me again." A fire walker held him and watched as Larabee's fingers dug into the pelts beneath him. "Not again. Not again. I can't...Josiah, please...I can't...can't do this. Make it stop!"

There were more and more hands pressing him down into the pelts, making him take the pain, and with the pain came three specters that tore at his heart. One came with the demon eyes that plagued him still. The other two, still bloody, reached for him. The pain of their touch was the worst Chris Larabee, this body he had come back to, had ever known. They brought with them the pain of the beginning of his torment. "NO, LIZZIE. WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU? I DIDN'T DO THIS. NO, PA! NO, PA! MA? I DIDN'T MA...YOU KNOW DON'T YOU? DON'T YOU KNOW I DIDN'T KILL YOU? PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW I LOVED YOU! PLEASE...PA, PLEASE PA, PLEASE...DON'T CUT ME AGAIN! OH, GOD...NO MORE, PLEASE NO MORE. PLEASE LET ME OUT OF THIS HELL! LOVED YOU. PA...MA...YOU GOT TO KNOW...PLEASE, TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW! VIN! BUCK! JOSIAH! JD! EZRA! NATHAN...PLEASE NATHAN, DON'T LET IT CUT ME ANYMORE! TELL THEM, PLEASE? BELIEVE...BELIEVE ME! TELL THEM ALL IT WASN'T ME!"

Suddenly, they were all there again...all of them, except each of them seemed larger than life itself. And each of them held him, and each of them stood between him and the pain and the fear and the things that would torture him if they could. And as they stood to guard him, the thing came once more...seemingly strong enough to vanquish all the ones who stood for him.

No-name advanced now on the two that tore his heart...but these last two, the two who

had brought him the most pain in all of his life, the two who tormented his soul, turned, joining with the spirits who stood against his pain.

"John Christopher?" The voice was the voice of his father, but there was no malice, no pain in the voice. No longer did the voice hound him and damn him for things he had never done.

"Pa...you do know I loved you?"

"Rest, John Christopher. Nothing stands between you and me now except time and love. Rest, boy. You just rest. All will soon be well."

"Son?"

"Ma? I miss you so much. Didn't get to tell you I love you...couldn't say goodbye."

"Oh, Chris, I knew...we both knew. Son, we will be here when you need us. We're here. There wasn't any need to say goodbye...because it was just meant to be for awhile. Rest, Chris. Let us all help you rest. I know you won't forget your pain, dear...but there is such love for you here among us all...let the pain go, dear, and tell these things to go to hell." Her eyes twinkled as her hands brushed the hair back from his forehead and gave him much needed peace in his soul.

Chris felt the hands join...the hands that now grew warmer and stronger...that somehow now included his Sarah and his son. All together, as one force, they reached out with hands that healed, to shove the things that tortured him back, deep into the darkness of the pit. They were there with him, holding him, driving the pain from his soul and from the body he accepted again. He held to them as they drove the things farther and farther away. He had no sense of time, now, but they held him until they drove the things away at last and he cried in relief as they slammed the gate on his hell, and he came to himself in the light.

"Nathan? Where am I? Please...so much pain."

"Badlands, Chris. Been a real, long fight. Looks like ya might have won."

"Not too sure. Is everyone all right? Dreaming...strange dreams. Coyotes?"

"Sometimes dreams, sometimes just you walking a little too close to the other side, my son."

"Josiah?"

"Yep, that's Josiah...that's JD...there's Ez...here's Buck...and ..."

"Vin? All of you are here?"

"Yeah, Cowboy. Bout time you decided to wake up."

"Did I dream that Kojay was here?"

"My friend, it has been a week of fire walking for you. We are happy to see you are waking from the dreams of your quest."

"God...I hurt. What happened to me?"

"You've still got a long way back, Stud. Don't worry about what was, just hang on for what's coming. It ain't gonna be pretty, pard. Now, you just drink this, then close your eyes and get some more rest. Nathan's insisting on it. And if you don't sleep some real, good sleep, the rest of us are gonna kill ya."

Chris couldn't help but smile weakly at his long time friend as he helped him lift his head and drink the bitter tasting brew from the cup. His body felt weak, weaker than any other time he could remember, and he hurt. He hurt from the roots of his hair down to his feet. As Buck helped him drink he got a closer look at his body, the bandages, the dry blood on each one, the sunburned skin, the torn and ravaged flesh at his wrists. His vision blurred and he felt his head lowered once more.

The pain was there, sometimes overwhelming, but at other times manageable. Right now, the pain was easing and he knew whatever was in the brew Nathan fed him was responsible for it.

"...thanks, Na...than..."

"You're welcome, Chris, now you just rest and let that help you. Gonna be a lot of pain for a while now. I wish I could tell ya there wouldn't be, but..."

"...not...your...fault...tired...sleep now...no-name's gone..." Larabee mumbled between cracked lips.

"That's right, Stud, that sonofabitch is gone back ta hell where he belongs and this time he ain't comin' back. You can let go and sleep now...we got your back."

"...okay..." Larabee sighed as he gave his body and mind the rest it needed. Although he dreamed, these ones were not as disturbing as the ones he had during his walk through Hell's Fire. "Sarah...love...always have...always will..."

Buck smiled as he listened to his friend's softly whispered words. He'd been the only one of the peacekeepers to know the joy of Chris' family. Sarah and Adam were gifts in both his and Chris' life and he remembered the devastation when they returned to the farm to find a burnt out shell. The terror he'd felt at Larabee's scream of rage and pain cut through him like a knife as he thought of the loss of not only, Sarah and Adam, but also the loss of a man he'd thought of as brother. He sat beside the blond, watching over him, much the same way he'd done for the first few months after the loss of his family.

"Buck..."

He looked up, tears in his eyes as he fought back the pain of remembering. He saw Nathan's face and knew they needed to work on Larabee's wounds once more. They needed to keep them clean and get rid of the lingering infections that drove his temperature higher as the heat of the day lingered.

"Nathan, he's just gone to sleep."

"I know, Buck, and hopefully that sleeping powder will keep him under while we work. Vin and Josiah are bringing water and bandages." The healer reached out and placed a hand on the rogue's shoulder and smiled thinly at him. "We need to do this, Buck. Chris is to weak to fight things on his own and he needs us to take care of him until he gets a little strength back. He needs us, Buck, now more than ever before."

"Y...yeah...I know you're right, Nathan, I just hate seeing him like this."

"I know...we all do," Jackson said as Sanchez and Tanner came into the slightly cooler interior.

He hadn't said more than a dozen words total since he had broken out of the terrors that had haunted him. He spoke one-word requests for water, didn't ask for food, ate only what Nathan demanded he take in, didn't talk about what he had been through. They all knew he was grateful to have his friends around him, but he chose to handle the memories alone.

"Okay, Cowboy...you gonna lay there like a bump, or ya gonna tell us what we want to know...what you need to tell us."

"Vin...I know you're all offering help, but I don't want to think about it or talk about it. If I do that, I might just invite all the hell back again. I just don't know if I'll ever want to think about that again." He closed his eyes, hoping Vin would let him get quiet again.

"Can ya at least tell us who that son of a bitch was?"

Chris gave up, giving in to Vin's need for information. He had to make himself draw in the air he needed to talk, and once he started talking he had to deal with the nausea he felt stirring again. "Hell of it, Vin, is I don't know his name. I never knew his name."

"What do you remember? Anything?"

"I remember it was a knife fight, was in Durango, before I met Buck...but that's all I've ever known. I never did try to find it out. Guess I owed him that much...but he nearly killed me too."

"How bad were ya hurt, Chris?"

"Bad enough. When I finally got back on my feet, I'd sort of lost interest, and I was late getting to the job I had lined up...so I didn't go back to find out nothing."

"Which one of these scars is from that one?"

"Hell, Vin. Sorry. Just too tired for this...don't want to talk anymore. Later, okay?"

"Sure, pard. You just say what bothers ya. No sense making ya any more miserable than ya are. Want me to send in Josiah, or somebody else maybe?"

"No. Sorry, Vin. Stay? We don't never have to talk so much. Got your harp?"

"Yeah. Got it right here. Want me to play?"

"Low. Quiet. Please. Maybe stop the pain...maybe I won't puke. Just so tired, Vin." He closed his eyes, shutting out the world.

"Vin, here. Give him this...just a little. Let me know when he sleeps, when he comes to again."

"Nathan?"

"Yeah, Chris. Need something?"

"Water? So hot. Gonna...oooohhhh."

"Easy. Vin, spoon some of that down his throat."

"As soon not, Nathan."

"Chris...you ain't gonna fight us are ya?"

"No...sorry, Nate...just gonna be sick. Wait a bit, okay? Let Vin play a bit...let me sleep."

"Sure Chris. But down just a swallow of the medicine, hear. It'll help settle your stomach, I hope."

"K." Chris lay back, supported now against Wilmington's chest. He got still as the pain coursed through him again and Nathan poured the bitter-as-gall liquid through his lips. He gagged on it and moaned as his stomach rolled. "Sick."

"Try to hang on, Chris. Don't lose it. Don't want to have to give ya more. Just be still, hear."

Chris struggled to rise against Buck's arms. His face contorted as wave after wave of pain coursed through him.

"What is it Chris. What's wrong?"

He tossed and held to all three of his friends. "Don't know...don't know...like knives in my gut."

"Be still as ya can, Chris. You can make it. Just try to let go of the pain and rest."

"I'll try. I'll try. So hard, Vin. Just too hard."

"Know it is, Cowboy. Just remember we're here and we'll help ya get through it."

"Stay...can't do this alone. But boys when I'm through it, I'm mean to find out that things name."

"If'n ya've a mind to, ya won't have ta do it alone, Chris...I'd maybe tag along with ya if'n that's okay."

"Thanks...Vin...'preciate the company...God!" he groaned as the fiery daggers stabbed through his stomach and he fought to keep the bitter stuff the healer fed him down. He felt their hands on him and knew he wasn't alone...he may be the only one suffering physically, but he could see the pain and worry on the faces that swam before his eyes.

"Easy, Chris, we got ya..."

"N...Nathan...ca...can't d...do it..."

"Yes, you can, Stud, ya got us here ta help ya. Even Kojay and the other elders are here ta help ya. Ya got too many people who care about ya, Chris. Ain't gonna let ya quit on us now," Wilmington said worriedly as he joined Jackson and Tanner.

"Come on, Son," Sanchez came next, kneeling beside the injured gunslinger, silently sending prayers for strength and hope. He placed his hand on Larabee's forehead and eased back the sweat soaked blond hair. He could see the pain in the green eyes and knew the man was fighting, but the heat continued to rise from the skin on his face and chest. He knew some of it was from the sunburn, but most came from the fever running rampant throughout his body.

"Here, Josiah, use this," Jackson said, handing the ex-preacher a basin filled with water and herbs.

Sanchez picked up the cloth and began washing the fevered body, even as Larabee's moans continued to reach his ears. He heard Jackson telling Tanner he needed to get some rest, that things were far from over.

"Look, Vin, we may have driven back Hell's fire, but we still have to drive the fever from him. We need to heal the physical wounds, now, and that's where we'll need ya. Chris ain't gonna be awake much longer, but when he does he's gonna want ya there."

"Ain't tired, Nate...need ta be here..."

"We all, do, Vin, but Nate's right. He hears you more than he does the rest of us," Wilmington said as he watched the ex-preacher care for the injured man.

"...go...sleep...Vin...tired..."

"Alright," the tracker reluctantly agreed. "You just make damn sure you're here when I get back."

"Ain't plan...nin' on le...leavin' just...yet..." The blond smiled weakly and was amazed that he could lift his right arm for their familiar handclasp. He felt Tanner's promise, a promise they'd made so many times. He knew the young man might not be in the same shelter he was, but he'd be watching his back, even in sleep.

"Good..."

"Thanks, V...Vin..."

"Nate..."

"I'll come get you if he needs you, Vin," the healer assured him.

Chris watched as the sharpshooter lifted the flap and left the shelter. Once he was sure the younger man was gone he relaxed his hold on the pain and let it show. These men understood what he was going through, and he knew they wouldn't think any less of him for letting it show. Tanner wouldn't either, but if he saw just how bad things were right now he wouldn't have agreed to leave. His stomach churned as the herb-laced water washed over his face and neck. He closed his eyes, hoping that he could keep the noxious stuff down, but lost the fight as burning liquid rose up in his throat.

Sanchez dropped the cloth as soon as he saw the fear in Larabee's eyes and he eased him up. He watched as the blond's shoulders heaved and the strong odor of vomit reached his nostrils. He rubbed Larabee's shoulder and back, hoping to convey the fact they were still with him.

"Easy, Son, I...we got you," the ex-preacher soothed.

"S...shit...h...hurts..."

"Anywhere in particular, Chris?" Jackson asked, as they eased him back down on the furs.

"Gut...head...arms...even my hair...hurts," the blond mumbled as he finally gave in to his body's demand for rest.

"Thank God," the healer said softly, as some of the lines of pain eased.

"Amen," Sanchez said, picking up the cloth and returning to the job of bathing the injured man.

"Nathan, he ain't gettin' any better, is he?" Wilmington asked.

"Ain't sure, Buck...but at least he don't got that thing chasin' him while he's sleepin' anymore," the former slave explained.

"Gentlemen, I think we're overlooking what Chris needs most."

Ezra spooned water into Chris' dry mouth and asked the question they all wanted answered. "And what would that be Mr. Sanchez? You are administering herbs and such medical things as you have. What else does Mr. Larabee need?"

"Trust in the power of the Lord and the spirits of this world to help him get through this, just as they helped him decide to live. I believe we have held Kojay's people too far from Chris since he woke. He still needs all the strength that all of us have. I'm going to talk to Kojay about another healing ceremony...more about his body this time than his spirit."

"But they sang to him the whole time he was so close to dying, Josiah. I mean, what can Indian chants do for him now?"

"JD, these men, these Indian men, have their own ability to heal. May be different from ours, but it works. I've seen it. We've all seen it. It's time you, and me, and all of us show our friends that we respect their ways and trust them to keep right on helping Chris. Think you can do that, JD?"

"If you say so, Josiah. They sure did care for him just fine. Vin said he knew Chris trusted them all by the way he talked to them whenever he woke up."

"Alright. Then we all ask Kojay and his fire walkers to help Chris walk through this part too."

"If we are to help him, my friends, we must all purify ourselves first. For this we will light the fires at the four corners of the lodge, and we will join in asking the spirits to honor what we will try to do. One of his friends will remain with him, outside the lodge, until the others have completed their purification. Then the last will join the others, as Chris is returned to the lodge to be purified at last."

"Guess the one to stay with Mr. Larabee might just be me, gentlemen."

"Hell, Ez." Buck laughed. "You best be in the lodge from the git-go. Much cheating and lying as ya do at the poker table, suspect you need all the purifying you can get."

"Mr. Wilmington. I do not cheat unless I am facing a cheater. And I do not lie...much Now, you, on the other hand, are a scoundrel and a womanizer, and you've been known to lie to all the ladies habitually. I suggest Mr. Sanchez may be the best to remain with Chris. He will require less time for purification than all the rest of us combined."

"I am neither pure nor worthy, Ezra. Of all of us, I do believe JD may be our best hope."

"Only cause he ain't had as much time to be bad as us." Buck clapped the young man on the back and grinned. "Give him time...he'll catch up."

"Not me. Kojay wouldn't want me. I embarrassed us all at their village. Don't want to chance spoiling things in their lodge here. Might not be the best thing for Chris. Josiah... you're sure you're not the one?"

"No...but I should have mentioned Vin. Of all of us, the bond is strongest between Vin and Chris. There is kinship of the soul. I believe Chris will be more comfortable if he wakes and finds Vin beside him. Vin, I think we've all decided you're to be the one to come into the lodge last, come when Chris is brought in for purification. Do you agree?"

"Fine with me. Kojay? How long is your purification gonna take? Where do we keep Chris in the meantime? Can't see as how I'm so all fire pure, Josiah, but I'll be glad to watch him and see he gets inside okay."

"The purification for ourselves should take two days. We will neither eat nor drink during this time, and at the end of the purification, when Chris is brought inside with us, we will all drink of a brew that will help him ready himself for healing. Finally, he will be given the many herbs and medicines that will heal each part of him that needs healing."

Vin wiped his friend's face, trying to help him rest. "Does Chris eat and drink while the rest are being purified? I need to know what he's to have."

"He will have water, and broth. He will need to be kept warm...he will feel great cold and with the cold will come more pain, and being in the open, he may experience great fear."

Vin sat next to his semi-conscious friend as darkness washed over the land, bringing with it the promise of cooler temperatures. He looked towards the sweat lodge and knew the others were inside with Kojay and the other tribal elders. The purification ritual had started earlier in the day, and now Vin was alone with his best friend. He looked down at Larabee, and smiled as the green eyes opened and tried to focus on him. A soft moan from the gunslingers slack lips, told him there was pain, his body trembling as if the cold had already seeped through his skin to bury itself in the deepest part of his body. Vin knew the cold and pain would only get worse as he waited for the others to finish the ritual, and that it was up to him to make sure Larabee was still with them when the time came. He reached for the warm broth sitting next to the fire.

"Hey, Cowboy, got somethin fer ya ta drink," the tracker said softly.

"V...Vin...so...cccoold," the blond stammered.

"I know ya are, Chris, but this should help ya some," Tanner told him.

"...okay..." the blond whimpered as his upper body was lifted so he could drink the warm broth. The first taste gagged him, but he managed to drink a half cup before he turned away.

"We'll try again in a little while," Tanner said, reaching down and covering the injured man with the furs supplied by Kojay and his people.

"...thanks, V...Vin..."

"Yer welcome, Chris..."

"Not j...just for t...this," Larabee said, trying to force his right arm to move. It felt like he was moving through thick quicksand, but he finally managed to make it obey his command. He smiled as the tracker clasped it in their familiar handshake, one that had brought him back and continued to hold him close.

"I know, Pard, jest doin' what a friend..."

"A brother..."

"...would do," the sharpshooter assured him. He lowered the arm back to the furs and covered him to the neck once more. He watched as Larabee lifted his head slightly and looked around. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Wh...where's everyone?"

"They're just gettin' some things tagether ta make ya feel better..."

"T...they makin' wh...whiskey?" the blond asked, relieved when a small smile formed on the tracker's face.

"Wish they were, but Nate says no whiskey fer a while..."

"D...damn," the blond said, crying out as he tried to find a way to take the pressure and pain from his lower back.

"Easy, Pard, I got ya. What's wrong?"

"Back hu...hurts...n...need ta get up..."

"That ain't a real good plan right now, Chris. Ya'd best lie still," the tracker's voice was filled with concern.

"C...can't, V...Vin...hard t...to breath a...gain. Sick," the blond groaned as he tried to hold the broth inside. He closed his eyes as the inevitable happened and he was turned slightly as he vomited into a small container Tanner placed before him. The pain was back...as was the cold and he shivered uncontrollably.

"God, Vin...make it s...stop...please..." he soon felt the tracker's strong arms lifting him forward and the man's legs were placed on either side of his body. He moaned as the pain intensified with the movement, but waited for his friend to finish what he was doing. He lost track of time, yet knew it couldn't have taken very long before he was settled against the other man's chest. He held his breath as the sharpshooter pulled the furs around him again and held him in place. He could feel the warmth from Tanner's body and could hear the soothing sound of his heartbeat as his eyes finally closed and he slept, secure in the trust and bond that lay between them.

"WILD DOG! WILD DOGS! VIN! HELP ME!" As the night progressed, and the chill sank deep into his body, Larabee's fever brought terrors to his mind, panic and pain to his body. Vin comforted him as best he could, but only when their arms clasped in the familiar grip could Chris sense the panic leaving him for a time. He had rested only a few minutes before the 'dogs' came for him.

"Easy, Pard. No coyote here now."

"NOT COYOTE...COYOTE, FRIENDS...WILD DOG, VIN. WILD D-D-DOG COMING...DON'T LET IT GET ME!"

"Nothin's gonna get ya, Chris. Not as long as we're all here. How you know difference in coyote and wild dog, Chris? Sound near the same."

He shook with the fever, but roused enough to feel safe with Vin beside him. "D-d-don't know...saw it coming. I'm so C-C-COLD!"

"Just fever, cowboy. You're burning up and dreamin'. It'll be over before long, once we get ya back inside, get some new medicine for ya."

"Where's everybody? They leave? So dark, Vin...I can't see nothing...only hear your voice. Am I blind, too?"

"Nah, shoot...it's just night, and the fire's down too low for ya to make out detail. And it's a might hard to see when ya got your eyes shut. I know you're tired and don't feel much like it, Cowboy, but open your eyes...there's at least a thousand stars up there, bet a million, don't you. Come on, take a look at this pretty sky out here."

"Yeah...are quite a few." He closed his eyes again.

"Ya always do like to look at the stars. Don't want to think you're considering headin' back the old way. You ain't are ya?"

"Headin' back? Hell's fire? Don't want to go back! Don't wanna go back, Vin! Can't take any more fire...Just too hot. Gonna be sick!"

Vin began to sponge his forehead and throat. "That any better?"

"Some. Water?"

"Sure. Little at a time. I'm gonna raise ya up a bit."

"Don't think I can...Ahhhhh...Vin, so cold? Was warm before...could swear I was warm. Dreaming? HURTS! Oh, God, Vin...can't breath."

"That's as far as I'm gonna move ya. Just be easy. Sip the water, much as ya can, okay."

"Yeah...sip...where's everybody?" His voice was a whisper.

"They're here, Chris. They're real close by."

"Can't hear them anymore, Vin. Only you now. Tired. Sorry. Best let me go. Just so tired. Spirit's here'll go with me..." Suddenly, Vin realized it wasn't just talk. If he didn't keep the man talking, didn't get him breathing deeper, Chris was going to take his walk, and he wasn't coming back.

He threw the pelt off and began to shake the man, ignoring the cries that came from him. "CHRIS! CHRIS! Don't ya even think it, Chris. They're here, close by. We're working on something that's gonna help. All the boys, all Kojay's friends...told ya we'd be here... we're here! Don't you let go...you just hold on. Said spirits helping ya. Hell, Chris...call to ‘em ...tell em it ain't time! You tell ‘em we're here, and we ain't gonna let ya go!" The tracker's arm held him more firmly, and brushed the fever soaked hair from his forehead. He pulled the pelt closer around him again and then offered his friend water.

Chris took the smallest sip of water, trying to get it down, trying to feel something beside the pain in his body. His throat refused to accept it. He began to cough, then choke instead, his stomach and chest jolting with each indrawn breath, every weakening cough. "Please, Vin. Can't do this...Please...NO!" His head fell back against Vin's shoulder as he fought the pain and struggled to bring air into his lungs. He opened his eyes, eyes that plead with his friend for mercy. "Can't...can't Vin...so tired...no more...PLEASE!"

"Easy, Chris. Easy. Breath slow...don't fight so hard." Larabee's eyes closed, his body sagged. "Hell, Chris...come on...easy. You're gonna be...Damn you, Larabee...You LISTEN TO ME! YOU LISTEN TO ME. YOU AIN'T GOIN' NOWHERE!" He shook Larabee hard, yanked him up and pounded on his back, slamming hard into the lacerated skin. He shook him until he feared he would snap the man's neck. "LARABEE... LARABEE...CHRIS!" The night got way too still, and it held both men in the balance.

The words came with the small gasped intake of air. "Vin...please..."

"Alright! Now, you gonna listen or ya want me to do that again?"

"Noooo..." He coughed and puked and coughed until he couldn't anymore. He struggled, trying to get air, to get relief. His chest rattled as he slipped toward unconsciousness again.

Vin pounded on him...harder. Chris cried out and with a hard, deep wheeze, suddenly sent a huge plug of something gray-green, dry and nasty into the small bowl in Vin's hand. Then he drew a slightly easier breath.

"Now that's more like it, Cowboy." Vin's laugh startled the weakened man.

"Hell, Tanner...son of a bitch!" Chris clung to the man and shuddered as the pain refused to ease, "No more! Damn it, NO MORE!" He puked again, loosing another hardened plug.

"At least it got ya to quit talking crazy. You ain't gonna die. You try it, you miserable polecat, I'll do ‘er again, only worse!" Vin drizzled a few small sips of water down the man's throat and eased him back against his chest, "Now just get still, and try to rest a bit."

Chris found he couldn't do anything except lay still. He closed his eyes and drifted on the spinning world he felt. He wanted to sleep, but suddenly felt a drop of something wet falling on his nose. He looked up with one opened eye, too tired to try for more, and stared into Tanner's face. He saw the tears, amazed to find them there. He managed a very low, "Stop it," and one tired grimace.

"That don't pass for no kind of smile, Cowboy. I'll stop, if you'll keep hanging on. Deal?"

"Deal. Damn, Tanner, wish I had some whiskey for sure now. God, Tanner, hurt like hell. Don't...do...it...again."

"Good. Least ways ya know you're still with us!" Vin hugged his friend once, making him groan pitifully.

"Said stop it, Tanner."

"Don't worry. Ain't nobody gonna know. Don't need to start no rumors. Know something?"

"I know you're a cruel man, Tanner." He coughed hard again and barely kept back the scream from the pain as his body shook.

"Shut up, Larabee, get still, and listen to me. You listen to me. I'm gonna tell ya the truth. Nobody said I couldn't, so what's it gonna hurt if ya know what's going on. Don't think it's gonna be that hard."

"Going on? What's going on?" Chris body began to shake again as the cold and now the smothering feeling settled into him again. "Things not coming back is it?"

"Bastard's gone, Chris, unless you're hell bent on dreamin' him. No, Kojay and his fire walkers have something special planned for ya. We're all in on it. All that bunch of lop-eared polecats are inside the lodge right now. Guess what they're doing?"

"What?"

"I'll tell ya if you lay real quiet like and take in a little of this soup. Gonna let ya have some cold coffee. Ya need it to help keep those lungs open. Then I'm gonna pile on another fur and tell ya while you try to get warm. Sound like a plan?"

Chris drew air into his lungs again, forcing himself to respond to his friend. As weak as he was, he could still recognize the near panic in Vin's voice. "Damn site better'n the last one you had! But...first..."

"Yeah, pard."

"Gonna be sick. Have to knock me around so hard? Why so sick?" Chris lay with eyes closed, trying to overcome the nausea, but Vin knew it was a losing battle again. He tried to help anyway, pressing wet cloths to Chris' throat.

"'cause you've just been cut to bits and beat to hell, Chris, and ya lost a lot of blood before we got to ya, and before we got ya sewed up. I think ya got pneumonia, and now, you can't seem to hold down enough food or drink to get yourself wet inside. Ya been real, real sick for a pretty long spell. You ain't imagining any of the pain. It's there real enough. We're working on getting you some peace from it, but it's gonna take a while. You need me to turn ya?"

"Don't...okay? Just don't. Please?"

"If I turn ya, I'll put some more stuff on your back and hips to help with the hurting, keep ‘em from getting infected. Being on your back on them cuts' bound to be a bitch. And, if you can stand my turning ya, if ya have to puke, ya won't puke on yourself or maybe get choked again. Getting those ribs and that lung stirred up is bound to sure enough be hell. Want me to just sit you up a bit more?"

Chris started another round of coughing. Between two terrible seizes, "Vin...turn...me."

"Ya sure?"

"No. Do it. Gonna puke."

"Okay...got Nathan's bag here...gonna get some salve out. Now, just hang on. Want it slow, or do ‘er fast."

"Get it done!"