"Aww, c'mon, Ez! Stop being such a stick in the mud." 

"Mud, Mr. Dunne, is precisely what I am endeavoring to avoid!" 

Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez laughed as they watched their southern friend being dragged by Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne onto the muddy field where the celebration would take place. From their perch on top of the church, both men had a fantastic view of the town. They watched as the children scrambled about, excitedly helping the adults with the Founder's Day celebration that was to take place the next day. Due to the peaceful nature of the past few weeks, the town leaders had decided to hold the celebration for the first time since the town was founded. 

The seven peacekeepers had agreed to help with the festivities, including the now protesting Ezra Standish. The festivities included a variety of carnival-like games and booths and a picnic lunch. There were also several events planned such as horse racing and pie eating contests. Not surprisingly, Buck and JD had been the first to sign up for these events. But they had not only signed themselves up, they had also signed almost everyone else up, too! 

But for at least one of the seven, the carnival events were the least of his problems. . . 

"No." 

"But. . . ." 

"No." 

Mary Travis watched as Chris Larabee stalked away from her. She glared at his back, irreverently thinking how well-fitting his dark pants were. Shaking off the thoughts, she picked up her burgundy skirts and hurried after the gunslinger. She caught up to him by the side of the jail house, grabbing his arm to stop him. "If you would just listen for a minute. . . ." 

She wasn't ready for his reaction.  

Before Mary could blink, Chris had her pinned against the wall of the jail house, his long arms held her trapped, his lean body blocking her way. Mary brought her hands up to his chest in a defensive gesture.

"Oh!" 

"For the last time, Mary, no." 

Green eyes bore into blue-gray ones. 

Neither the man nor the woman noticed the looks thrown their way. While women twittered behind gloved hands and fans, the men leered at the tableau unfolding in the alleyway. Over the next few days, stories would circulate how 'Larabee's body was pressed close to Ms. Travis's, but not too close', and how 'Ms. Travis had her hands on his chest' – either fighting him off or caressing him – depending on who was telling the tale. 

Satisfied that he had won their battle of wills, Chris pushed away from Mary and the wall, resuming his trek towards the jail. Mary quickly recovered and determinedly followed. 

"Chris, you're perfect. . . ."  

The look and half-smile he threw over his shoulder had the Clarion editor rolling her eyes.  

"For the job," she finished. "You've got the leadership capability and everyone respects you. . . ." 

"You mean fears me." 

Mary ignored him. "You're good for the morale of the town, everyone trusts you. . . ."

"Yeah, as far as they can throw me," Chris threw sarcastically back at the woman trailing him. 

"You'd be the perfect mayor!" 

"Ha!"

"If anyone can, it'll be her," Buck said, as he hefted another long board onto his shoulder. 

Vin smiled from under the brim of his hat. "Yup." 

"So, Vin, you signin' up for the shootin' contest?" Buck held the board in place as Vin began hammering in the nail. 

"Thought you and JD already signed up for me." 

"Nah, Josiah said we might want to check with you first. So you gonna do it?" 

Vin shrugged. "Maybe, don't think so though." 

"The prize is a brand new Winchester rifle," Buck said as he tried to sweeten the prospect of the contest. "And I know you've been eyeing it – here's your chance." 

Vin smiled, looking up at his friend. "Buck, you sure do know how to tempt a man."  

Buck winked and grinned. "Well, I don't know about men but I can teach ya a thing or two about temptin' the ladies." 

"Mr. Dunne, what makes you think I have any bets. . . ." Ezra left off at the look the younger man threw at him. He then grinned, his dimples flashing and his gold tooth shimmering in the light. "Just a few."  

"You plan on sharin'?" 

"Why, of course." Ezra placed his hand over his heart in a mock demonstration of how deeply the comment hurt. 

"Great! I could use some money, right now," JD blurted out, cutting off the gambler. 

"Provided that you have a winning bet," Standish finished, feeling a twinge of regret at the disappointment flashing over the Sheriff's face. Shifting slightly, Ezra nonchalantly asked, "Pray tell Mr. Dunne, what would you need money for?"  

"Casey's birthday's comin' up and I gotta get her somethin' nice." 

"And do you have your eye on anything in particular?" 

"Nope, the last time I got her somethin' it was that frog gigger. She looked at it, said thanks then never mentioned it again." 

"Hmm, well, I can see how a gift such as that would engender such a reaction from the young lady." 

"You got any ideas what I should get her?" 

Ezra smiled, seeing the opportunity to make up for his earlier comment. "Indeed, I do, Mr. Dunne. Indeed I do." 

Barely glancing at Wilmington, Chris dryly added, "Or his daughter."  

Busting out in a grin, Buck plopped his hat back on his head. "Now, that there is my kind of work." Gulping down another drink, he kicked Nathan underneath the table to get his attention. Nodding his head slightly towards Chris once he had the former slave's attention, Buck craned his neck to look at the contemplative look on Chris' face. "I hear Mary's got some work she wants ya to do."  

"Hmph," Chris answered, still toying with the empty shot glass in his hand. 

"By the talk, Nathan, we're gonna need to buy us a new suit soon," Buck continued straight-faced, trying to sound innocent.  

"Why in the world would you need a suit?" Chris asked confused by the comment. Looking towards Nathan, he silently asked the medical man if he knew what Wilmington was referring to. Getting a negative shake of the head in reply, Chris looked back towards Buck.  

"For the ceremony of course. Can't attend something like that in these old things," Buck proclaimed, pulling at his shirt and bandanna to emphasis his point. Emptying the mug, the scoundrel plopped it noisily onto the tabletop. "No, siree. Buck Wilmington ain't gonna be wearin' nothin' less than his Sunday best at your wedding."  

Jerking upright in the chair, Chris let the full heat of his glare hit his long time friend. "What the hell are you talking about?"  

Holding up his hands, Buck burst out laughing at the confusion behind his friend's eyes. "Well, that's what people are saying. Word is she was chasin' you down the street and you was running just as fast as you could. Even had to pin her against the wall for awhile to get her to leave ya alone," he added, nudging Nathan again in glee.  

Throwing Wilmington one last scathing glare, Chris settled back. "She wants me to run for Mayor."  

"Mayor?" Nathan exclaimed, grinning at the mental image of the scene being described to him and Chris' reaction to it. "Folks would have to elect ya wouldn't they?"  

"Them there town meetings would be a lot shorter iffin' that happened," Vin Tanner said, sitting down after coming up to the table and overhearing the last of the conversation. Leveling an even gaze at Chris, he asked, "So, ya gonna run?" 

"Told her no," Chris replied. Deliberately changing the subject, he glanced around the unusually full saloon before standing up. "Lot of people already in town," he observed. "Make sure you keep an eye out for trouble tomorrow."  

"Sure thing," Vin drawled, waiting until Chris was a couple steps away from the table before he added, "Mayor."  

"And how is he goin' find out?" 

The two voices barely rippled the silent darkness surrounding them as their owners stealthily moved about the room. 

"The man is not stupid. . . ." 

"Exactly! He's perfect for the job!" 

"I don't know, I still don't think he's gonna to like this." 

"What is he goin' to do? Shoot us?" 

"He might." 

A disbelieving snort filled the air as the two conspirators continued their work. 

"Good Morning, sir." 

"Wonderful morning isn't it, sir?" 

Chris knew something was up the second he emerged from his rented room. People who normally didn't talk to him were respectfully tipping their hats and greeting him like an old friend. Several of the town's prominent male citizens actually approached Larabee with their hands extended. After the shock of the first handshake, the gunslinger's glare made others think twice about holding out their hands. It was damn strange. But Chris shrugged, thinking that today's upcoming festivities were getting everyone into a better mood. He adjusted his black flat brimmed hat and headed over to the hotel for breakfast. 

"Morning, Chris." The voices rose in unison at their leader's entrance. Larabee raised a single brow at the excessive cheerfulness of his friends. 

"Any of ya noticed anything strange 'bout the townsfolk this morning?" Chris grabbed his usual seat and nodded his thanks to the waiter as the man placed his meal down. 

"Nope." 
"No." 
"Naw." 
"Not a thing." 
"Certainly not, Mr. Larabee." 
"Not at all." 

Larabee leaned back in his chair, surveying his friends who, all of sudden, seemed much too interested in their breakfast. His green eyes settled on Vin's bent head. Vin could feel his friend's gaze rest on him, but refused to meet Chris's eyes. Chris knew that Tanner would never tell him a damn thing. . . especially if he didn't want to.  

"JD?" Chris watched as the young man swallowed hard.  

"Yes, sir?" JD meekly answered, not lifting his head from his meal. 

"Anything you want to tell me?" 

JD vigorously shook his head, sending his long bands into his face. "No. . . no, sir." 

Chris couldn't decide if JD's shaking meant that he afraid to tell him or if the youth was trying not to laugh out loud. Either way, the young man wouldn't meet his eyes. . .a sure sign that someone was lying. 

Before Chris could question his friends further, Mrs. Potter's voice rang out. "Mr. Larabee! It's so good to know that you're running! Why, I just feel safer knowing that you'll be running the town as well as protecting us too! Be assured, Mr. Larabee, you have my vote!"

Chris numbly shook the widow's hand, his confusion plain as the nose on his face. Behind him, Chris could hear the snickers of his friends. When the woman took a breath, he seized his opportunity. "Mrs. Potter, I'm not running." 

The widow frowned. "But the campaign posters!" 

"Campaign posters?" The words were growled. 

"Why, y--yes. They're all over town. . . you didn't see them?" Mrs. Potter was confused, how could a man who saw everything not see the campaign posters with his name slapped across them. "You didn't put them up?" 

Larabee's eyes were hard as he answered. "No, ma'am, but I know who did." 

"I told you I wasn't running and then you go and do somethin' like this?"  

Mary's eyes further widened as she realized that the man was positively seething. "I haven't done anything against your wishes," Mary stammered. 

"Then what the hell is this?!?" Larabee threw a piece of crumpled paper onto her desk.  
Mary quietly reached for it, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Chris Larabee for Mayor! He ain't just any cowboy!" A small smile touched her lips but it faded when she looked up into his angry eyes. "Chris, I didn't do this." 

"Then who the hell did? You're the only one with the printin' press to do this kind of work!" He vaguely waved his hand towards the aforementioned equipment.  

"I don't know, but it wasn't me. . . ." Mary's words trailed off and her eyes widened in realization. 

"Mary?" Her name was a soft growl on his lips that sent shivers up and down her spine. 

"Last night, I had dinner with Orrin, Evie, and Billy but when I came home I found ink on the press. I thought I had forgotten to clean it after yesterday's edition." 

"But you didn't, did you?" Chris had watched Mary meticulously clean all of her equipment many times before and knew the pretty widow wouldn't have forgotten to clean the machine. He also knew there were only a few other people who could have operated the machine. His face fell into a mask of contemplation. 

"Chris, what are you thinking? Who would break in here just to use my press?" Mary stepped closer to him and touched his arm bringing him back from his thoughts. 

Chris grinned. "They used your press." 

"They? They who? One of the others?" Chris's grin widened. . . Mary was sharp. "So which one was it?"

Chris smiled a rather unholy smile. "I'm not sure, but I've got a plan. Wanna help?" 

Mary's answering smile was just as naughty. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I have brought you something special. Something so spectacular, you will be amazed and baffled. Yes, folks, this little item," the barker announced, slapping his hand on a rectangular box with two pieces of metal attached it, "is the hottest item on the east coast. And today, I have brought it all the way from St. Louis to show you." 

Growing tired of the delaying tactics, a gruff voice from the back of the crowd yelled out, "Looks like a box with a couple of funnels on it. What is it?"  

Holding up his hands in to placate the restless group, the peddler laughed. "Sir, I am glad you asked. This is called a telephone." Seeing the puzzled looks being exchanged, the salesman continued., "It works like this. You speak into this piece here and a person on the other end of this wire," he said, catching the wire leading out and over the wagon, "will hear you just like you were standing beside you." A murmur of disbelief ran through those gathered. "Folks, I completely understand your skepticism. However, I am prepared to back up my claim." 

Stepping to the side of the wagon, the barker pointed to the building a short ways away. "Inside of that building, attached to this wire, is one of these little jewels. Now I need two volunteers." Seeing hesitation, the salesman continued. "Come on now. Who among you will be the first in your town to step into the next century?" 

Taking his cue from the people glancing at the large man on the edge of the crowd, the salesman pointed at the gentle giant who up to now had been quietly watching the proceedings. "You, sir, how about it? Are you the adventurous kind?" 

Pondering the questions, Josiah decided that he had better check out if this gadget was legitimate or simply a scam. Thinking about it, the former preacher decided that he couldn't loose. If it was real, he'd be the first. If it wasn't, well, then, he'd make sure this huckster left town quickly. 

"I suppose I'm as ready as the next man to meet my maker," Josiah drawled dryly, stepping forward to take a closer look at the box. 

Laughing good naturedly at the strange comment, the salesman enticed another from the crowd. "You there. Yes, you in the brown coat. How about it?" he asked, gesturing back to the box and Josiah. 

Stepping forward, Dakota looked at the box suspiciously. "What do I got to do?" the livery owner asked. 

"It's simple my friend. I want you to go with my assistant here," the barker said, placing his hand on a young man who suddenly appeared beside him, "and go to the building. He'll explain everything when you get there." 

Waiting until the two men had moved away, the peddler turned back to Josiah. "You sir, what is your name?" 

"Sanchez, Josiah Sanchez." 

"Well, Mr. Sanchez, I want you step closer here and put your head next to this," the stranger said, placing his hand on the top piece of metal.  

Leaning down, Josiah did as he was told. Standing there a few minutes, he was about to tell this peddler to pack up when a strange noise echoed in his ear. Jumping back, Josiah looked astonished and slowly leaned closer to the box. A huge grin erupted on his face as a familiar voice continued to talk to him.

Shaking his head, Josiah stood upright and gawked at the stranger. Before he could say anything however, the peddler held up his hand. "No, no, don't say anything. Wait a minute until the other gentleman gets back here." 

In less than a minute, Dakota came to a halt beside the former preacher. Seeing the dumbfounded look on his face, the old horse wrangler broke out in a grin. "Heard me, didn't ya?" 

Nodding, Josiah finally found his voice. "You said you were going to kick him," the big man said, pointed to the barker who had selected him, "up side the head like an old mule if he was funnin' you." 

Slapping his knee, Dakota guffawed. "You DID hear me!" 

Rumbles of excitement tore through the crowd. Grinning, the barker held open his arms. "For a mere two bits, you too can experience it. Who's next?"  

Chris Larabee was walking down the boardwalk next to Mary Travis. That in itself, was not that usual, for the newspaper woman was the town's liaison to the seven peacekeepers. But what was astonishing was the way the widow possessively clung to the gunslinger's left arm as they stopped to chat with several prominent citizens. From where they stood, the six men's mouths dropped in shock as one of Chris's comments caused the three men and two women to laugh delightedly. 

"Is that?" 
"He's not wearing what I think he's wearing, is he?" 
"That is not Mr. Larabee!" 
"It sure looks like him." 
"It ain't him!" 

The peacekeepers stared in abject horror as the man they knew to be Chris Larabee came strolling -not prowling, like he usually did – nooooo.

He was strolling down the street! And in a suit no less! And not any old suit.

Nooooooo.

The crisp white shirt was a stark contrast to the form-fitting black jacket and the black string tie. His suit jacket fell to mid-thigh and was opened to reveal the equally dark tailored pants. Every piece of clothing had been meticulously cleaned, even his flat-brimmed hat. The only semblance to the old Chris Larabee was the gunbelt strapped to his lean hips. 

Next to him, Mary was picture perfect. Her long blonde hair was twisted into a high style, designed to show off the delicacy of her neck. Her gown was of the palest blue-the perfect foil to Chris' dark attire. 

The gunslingers watched as Chris tipped his hat in farewell and the blonde couple resumed their way towards the hotel. Mary's small hand was in the crook of Chris' arm, his other hand was placed over hers, a gentlemanly gesture of possession. They watched in shock as Chris leaned down and whispered into Mary's ear, making her laugh. 

Mary chuckled at Chris' whisper, stealing a quick glance at their friends. "You're a cruel man, Mr. Larabee." 

"Why, Mrs. Travis, wherever did you get that impression?" The innocence of his tone was bellied by the mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Mary rolled her eyes. "God spare me from rakes and rogues." 

Chris grinned, completely unrepentant. "Is the next part of the plan ready?" 

Mary nodded with a smile, her ears perking up at the sound of the army bugle sounding. Tugging at his arm, Mary said, "C'mon, Chris, the opening ceremonies are starting." 

Chris smiled and indulgently let Mary lead him to the Founder's Day celebration. 

Vin tuned out the Judge's words, concentrating instead on the crowd gathering before him. As Chris had ordered them the day before, all seven men were still vigilant in their guardianship of the town. To one corner of the field, Tanner's eyes stopped, sighting several strangers on the fringes of the crowd. 

"Think they'll be trouble?" Nathan's words confirmed that the healer also had spotted the five or so men. 

Vin frowned. "Got some mighty powerful rifles with them." 

"Maybe they're here for the shooting contest," JD piped up from Vin's other side. 

"Maybe," Vin quietly observed. "Let's just do what Chris said-keep an eye out. If they cause trouble. . . ." His words trailed off, but the two men knew what the sharpshooter was thinking. 

". . .and now ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce your mayoral candidates: Mr. David Weston, Mr. Leonard Bale, and Mr. Christopher Larabee!" 

Buck nearly fell flat on his face. 

Josiah was in such a state of shock that he merely nodded. 

The two men stood staring in complete bewilderment as Chris took his place next to the two other candidates. While Mr. Weston and Mr. Bale were good men, it was obvious from the cheers that Chris was the crowd's favorite. Somehow that didn't surprise the gambler or the preacher. While Chris was as scary as they came, he was also fiercely protective and that was one quality that found favor with the townspeople. 

Beside Chris, Mary was absolutely radiant. Behind him, Judge Travis and his wife benignly but discreetly lent their support to the gunslinger. 

Across the field, Ezra's shocked eyes collided with Vin's. The tracker was slowly shaking his head, as if he couldn't fully comprehend what the hell his best friend was doing. 

Buck was thinking the same thing and he could only shrug helplessly when both Ezra's and Vin's questioning gazes touched him. 

"Mary, I can't believe you're encouraging him!" Travis waggled his finger at his daughter-in-law. 

The blonde couple exchanged intimate, conspiratorial smiles before grinning at the older couple before them. 

Larabee turned to see all six of his friends rushing towards him. He grinned. 

Seeing that grin, they stopped dead in their tracks. That grin scared them. 

Chris' eyes danced with merriment. "Trouble?" 

"Uh, no, no trouble," Buck stammered, finding his voice.

"So when's this game you signed me up for?" Chris leisurely surveyed the fairgrounds. Booths had been set up haphazardly in the field with one section partitioned off for the picnic area. Later that night, there would be a dance to end the celebrations and to present the winners with their prizes. So far, so good, there had been no trouble. And Chris hoped it stayed that way. Every once in awhile, peace and quiet were welcomed things. 

"Uh, later in the afternoon." JD couldn't take his eyes off Chris' face. He had never seen that look on his leader's face before, and frankly, it scared him. 

"Um, be sure to remind me, I might forget. . . especially with the campaign and all." 

"Campaign?" Vin pounced on the word. 

Chris fought to keep his lips straight. "Yeah, the one for the mayoral race?" 

"We thought you said you weren't runnin'?" Nathan asked in confusion. 

"Yeah, well, Mary talked me into it." Chris smiled at his friends, then winked. "Let me tell you, boys, that lady can be awfully convincing." 

The six men mutely nodded, eyes wide. 

With every second that passed, Chris found it harder and harder to keep a straight face. Luckily, a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. "Excuse me, boys, looks like Mary and the Judge want to see me." 

With that Chris tipped his hat at his friends and fled before he broke into laughter. 

"He's serious," Josiah stated the obvious. 

"Well, this ain't a bad thing, is it?" JD looked at all of his friends. "I mean with Chris as the mayor and all, our jobs would be easier." 

"Not to mention more secure. . .unlike the last time." Ezra's comment had everyone nodding, remembering when Marshall Bryce had taken over their jobs. 

"Y'all're right," Vin grinned with relief. "Chris being mayor is a good thing." 

The others nodded but for some reason a deep sense of unease nagged at them. But they dismissed it as the horn sounded for the first event of the day. 

Pausing between Josiah and JD, Buck looked up to both mounted men. "No offense, Josiah, but I got five bucks on the boy here." Turning to look at the youngster who was busy trying to find some way to hold the egg as to not crush it, the mustached man snatched at the fragile shell. "Ya can't hold it in your hand. Ya gotta put it in your mouth like Josiah's doin'." Waiting until JD had done as he was told, he patted the younger man on the leg and scrambled towards the boardwalk. Reaching it, he gave Ezra five dollar bills. "On JD now," he said confidently. 

"That would be imprudent," Ezra began, but was cut off before he could finish.  

"What are ya talkin' about?! That boy's a better rider than any of those other fellas," Buck exclaimed, turning to defend JD from the perceived attack.  

Holding up his hands, Ezra took a step backwards. "I am not in any way impugning the ability of our young friend. All I am saying is that it would be imprudent of you to...." 

"Nobody did anything to his horse, did they?" Buck gushed anxiously, darting his eyes between Ezra and JD. 

"Not to my knowledge," Standish tried again. "However, it would be better...." 

Again Buck cut him off. "Then it's a sure thing," he exclaimed, again confident in Dunne's ability to win. "On second thought, here," Buck said, pulling several additional coins from his vest pocket. "Put these on him too." 

Sighing, Ezra gave up. Taking the double eagles, he meekly said, "Very well." Watching the retreating form jostling to get a better view of the racecourse, the southerner sighed. "But do not come to me when you lose it." The sound of the gun starting the race and the corresponding cheer from the crowd prevented his words from being heard. 

Straining his neck for the last glimpse of the riders before they turned the corner at the end of town, Ezra settled on a nearby crate and began to calculate the various payoffs on his tally sheet depending on the outcome. Smiling, he folded the sheet up and tucked it in his vest pocket. "Everything will be fine, if everyone acts according to their nature," he thought to himself. 

"How's the bettin' goin Ez?" Vin asked, coming up behind the southerner. "Everyone pickin' JD to win?" 

"Alas, they are," Ezra threw back at Vin, the jovial tone of voice belying his words. 

From down the street a cry came from atop the hotel. "They're coming back! Dunne's leading with Sanchez right behind him!" 

Frowning, Vin was confused by the smile on the gambler's face. Shaking his head, the tracker shifted his stance before making any further comment. "You're the damnedest con man I've ever seen. Happy over losin' money," he drawled.  

Glancing back at Vin, Ezra turned his attention back to the riders coming into view. "While that is a possibility, the odds are that I shall instead make a substantial amount on this race." Chancing another glance at his friend, Ezra began to explain himself as JD crossed the finished line half a length in front of Josiah. "Just as I thought, Mr. Dunne came in first. However, that is, in of itself, insufficient. He must also produce the egg intact. Ah, right on time," he observed, as Buck flew off the boardwalk to grab the reins to JD's horse. "Now, Mr. Tanner watch closely. Mr. Dunne will dismount only to be congratulated by an overly exuberant Mr. Wilmington, who will pound our young friend on the back, causing him to spit the egg onto the ground, breaking it." 

Vin's eyes widened as the events being foreshadowed by Ezra unfolded before him exactly as the con man had predicted. Over the combined groan of the crowd, Vin heard Ezra continue.  

"This, in turn, will allow Mr. Sanchez to relinquish his egg intact to Mr. Jackson, thus making both of us winners." 

"The winner!" Nathan shouted, raising Josiah's arm with one hand and the undamaged egg in the other. 

Chuckling, Vin shook his head again. "Just how in the hell did ya figure this one out?" 

Tucking his winnings in his pocket, Ezra smiled back. "Human nature my friend. And knowing Mr. Wilmington, of course." 

Chris, Mary, Travis and Evie watched the antics of the racers with grins and ready applause for the winner. The foursome stood in front of the Clarion with a grand view of the finish line. Chris quirked an eyebrow when he saw Travis frown. "Judge?" 

"Those men," Travis said, indicating a group near the bandstand. "I don't like how they look." Travis didn't have to elaborate. As a lawman, Travis had learned how to spot the lawless and as a judge, the insight served him well. This insight was something that he shared with the seven's leader. 

Larabee followed his boss's line of sight and nodded. "We saw 'em." 

"Do you think they'll be trouble, Orrin?" The judge's wife carefully studied the group of strangers. 

"Perhaps." His verdict was no sooner pronounced than shots rang out. 

"Get inside!" Larabee pushed the older couple into the Clarion with one arm; the other was firmly wrapped around Mary. "Stay down!" he ordered before slamming the door shut. He dove for the cover of the water trough, simultaneously drawing his peacemaker. He had no idea where his men were, but hoped that they had found cover. 

Screams and smoke filled the air as the bullets flew through the streets. 

"Chris!" JD's warning came from his left but the gunslinger had no time to turn or raise his gun before a shot rang out, sounding closer than the others. Chris lifted his head to nod his thanks to Nathan.

Nathan's brow furrowed in confusion as Chris lifted his weapon and fired. The dark healer heard the heavy thud and knew that Chris had just save his life. He nodded his thanks to Chris before focusing his attention back to the street 

Vin and Ezra were trapped in an alleyway, shots flying in all directions. The two friends were covering each other's backs behind a stack of crates. 

"Ez!" 

Standish turned. 

"Cover me!" Vin shouted and then pointed upward. 

Ezra nodded his understanding. He watched as Vin gave the signal, then stood with a rebel yell, drawing their attackers' fire. 

Josiah watched in horror as the southerner ran from one crate to another, leaving his body as an open target for too damn long. "CRAZY SON OF A BITCH!" Sanchez stood, firing upon the men who exposed themselves, covering Ezra's backside. 

Ezra heaved a sigh, thanking a merciful God that he had not been hurt. He cast his eyes heavenward and saw Vin safely nestled on the rooftop. 

Vin lined up his shots. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

Bodies fell in rapid succession. 

Then silence. 

"Anybody know who they were?" Orrin called out, moving past Chris a few steps to watch the other peacekeepers as they checked the dead men lying in the street.  

Seeing head shakes and hearing negatives from his men, Chris began to notice the milling throng of people who had emerged from their hiding spots to view the carnage. This definitely wasn't part of the planned activities. "You folks move along," Chris called out. 

Following Chris' lead, Orrin tried to be a little more diplomatic. "Everything's under control here. I'm sure there's plenty to do down the street." Motioning for Evie to join him, he stepped off the boardwalk. "Personally, I'm looking forward to the watermelon eating contest. Aren't you, my dear?" he asked Evie, throwing his voice out so that others could hear. 

Taking her cue, Evie slipped her arm through his. "Wouldn't miss it. Shall we?" she replied, moving with her husband down the street. As they hoped, the crowd began to trickle after them.  

Waiting until most of the town folks had started moving away, Chris released Mary and stepped towards the others.

"Who's suppose to be down there?" Chris asked, nodding towards the tables at the far end of town. 

"Buck's got the watermelon eating," JD, darting his eyes among the men.

"Okay, Buck, get going. JD, Ezra, Vin, you three go with him and keep an eye out. Try to keep a low profile. You two," nodding towards Josiah and Nathan, "get the undertaker and a couple of men to clean this mess up," Chris commanded, waving his hand toward the six dead men. 

"Where you going?" Buck asked. 

"I'm going to stick close to the Judge. Until we know who they are and what's behind this attack, we have to assume he's the target." With that, Chris turned and waited for Mary to join him before heading down the street. 

Thumping Vin in the stomach, Buck motioned towards the retreating couple. "Give's him an excuse to keep close to Mary, too," he said, grinning brazenly at the implication. 

Rolling his eyes, Vin shook his head at the scoundrel as he walked past him. "If anything happens while you're standing around talkin' about Chris' love life. . .," the tracker threw over his shoulder, leaving the threat unspoken. 

"How far down do we gotta go?" a cocky young man by the name of Jake Smelder hollered from the far end. 

"Hell, boy, don't ya know ya gotta eat the rind too?" a gruff anonymous voice called from the back of the crowd, eliciting laughter from the group.  

Shaking his head and grinning, JD rested one hand on his hip and one on his gun. "More than three-fourths of the pink has to be gone for it to count," he clarified. Looking up and down the row, he asked, "Any more questions?" 

"JD, let's get this thing goin'. I gotta collect my prize ya know," Buck said, grinning confidently and adjusting his kerchief to protect his shirt from any juice that might drip off his face. 

Waving off the older man, JD adjusted the watch in his hand so he could see it and raised his arm. Dropping it suddenly, he screamed, "GO!" 

Cheers and laughter erupted as the contestants dove into their melon. Seeds, juice, and smaller pieces of pulp flew through the air, spilling onto the table and covering the people at the table and occasionally onto the helpers and bystanders. 

Gleefully watching the contestants, JD glanced at the watch. "One minute left," he yelled, as he saw Buck diving into yet another piece.

Eyes pinned to the watch, JD held his breath as the second hand crept towards the twelve. Reaching it he yelled, "TIME'S UP!" and looked up immediately to make sure everyone cooperated. 

Jumping back from the table, Buck fought to swallow the huge chunks of watermelon still in his cheeks. Swabbing his kerchief at the juice dripping off his chin, he ran quick eyes up and down the table judging the number of rinds before each place. Letting out a yelp, spewing juice and seeds, Buck grabbed the timekeeper, draping his arm around his shoulder. "What'd I win?" 

Leaning away from him, JD tried to escape the stickiness. "You're getting me all messy," he complained, shoving his elbow into Buck to escape. 

"Come on, kid, what'd I win?" 

Grinning, JD reached below the table to pull out the prize. Holding his hand out, he burst out laughing at the look on Buck's face. "Here ya go, Buck. Here's your watermelon!" 

"How many folks ya sucker this time?" Vin drawled, leaning against the post beside the unrepentant gambler while keeping an eye out on the crowd. 

Throwing the tracker only a brief glimpse, Ezra continued to count the bills in his hands. "It is beyond my control, Mr. Tanner, as to whether or not the gentlemen of this town choose to bet against us in these contests. I am merely taking advantage of the opportunity that is presenting itself," he said, finishing up his counting and smiling at his friend while tucking the bills in his coat pocket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe it would be prudent of me to peruse the vicinity for miscreants. Care to join me?" 

With a sweep of his hand and a mock bow, Tanner let his friend take the lead. 

The two men greeted various people as they wove through the crowd, both alert for any possible danger. Vin smiled as he watched Billy Travis dunk his head into a barrel filled with water, trying to catch one of the shiny red apples with his teeth. Vin clapped along with the crowd, a huge grin on his face, as the young boy victoriously brandished the captured prize.  

"Hey, Ezra. . . ." The words died off when Vin saw that Ezra was busy giving JD several bills. The youth grinned and nodded his thanks before running off again. "What was that about?"  

Ezra looked up from his winnings at the soft drawl and grinned. "Why, I was simply giving Mr. Dunne his due share of the winnings." 

"Wait a minute. . . his winnings from the race?" 

Ezra nodded and then smirked. "Unlike his mentor, Mr. Dunne chose to heed my advice and place his bet accordingly. . . on Mr. Sanchez." 

Vin smiled, then handed his friend several bills. "Count me in for the next one." 

Shocked gasps and whispers flew about him as Mary Travis took center stage instead of the candidate. JD frowned, wondering why Chris wasn't making the speech himself. 

JD shrugged at the questioning glances tossed his way. He knew that Chris didn't like being in the public eye and the gunslinger sure as hell wasn't into making speeches. So the sheriff figured that if Chris wanted Mary to make his speech, then it was his business. Dunne barely noticed Mary as she spoke about Chris' plans for the town for he had refocused his attention back on the crowds and surrounding trees, watching out for any more troublemakers. He scanned the fringes of the crowd when a sudden flash caught his eye. 

"GUN!" JD's warning came only a moment before the shot rang out. . . giving Nathan, Buck and Chris just enough time to push the Travises down to the platform. 

"Anyone get a bead on him?" Chris shouted above the terrified screams of the panicking celebrators. 

A boom echoed in the air, silencing all sound. 

The three peacekeepers on the platform cautiously raised their heads, searching for any more threats. 

"Vin's got him!" Josiah's shout from the tree line brought everyone out of hiding.

"I don't know, Chris, there were an awful lot of people on that platform," Nathan spoke out. "Not just the Judge. You, Miz Mary, Mr. Weston, and Mr. Bale were all up there." 

"He's right, we can't assume that it's Travis they're after." Josiah supported his friend. 

"In any case, I want Bale, Weston, and the Judge and his wife covered." Chris' order was met with nods from the others. 

Vin, Nathan, and Josiah watched as the others drifted away for the next round of competitions.  

"Any one else think it's more than that?" Vin's quiet question had Josiah and Nathan nodding. 

"Maybe we should add Chris to that list of people we should be covering." The other two men quickly agreed with Josiah's low suggestion. 

"Vin, I wanna have a look at that platform, maybe you and I can find something," Nathan said, surveying the body and the gun. 

"Then I've got first watch on Chris." Josiah saluted his friends before heading off. 

"Chris joining us?" Buck barely looked up from his steak to ask the question. 

"Nope, he and Mary are eating with the Travises."

Josiah sipped his coffee, savoring the rich texture.

"Figures," Buck snorted. "Did you or Vin find anything?" 

"Nathan figures that the bullet was meant for either Mary or Chris." Vin's quiet words stopped everyone in mid-bite. 

"And how did you deduce that, my friend?" Ezra quirked an eyebrow as he voiced the question. 

"Well," Nathan said, frowning in concentration. "Vin found the bullet buried in the post, right where Chris' head should have been." 

"Then Chris is the target?" JD asked. 

"Well, maybe. JD, you said that the flash you saw came from your left, about 20 yards or so, right?" The healer leaned back in his chair, waiting for the answer. 

"Yeah, that's right." JD nodded. "I was standing opposite of the stage, thought I could get a better view from there." 

"See, Vin and I figure, from the angle that you saw the flash and where the bullet ended up, the guy probably would have hit Mary, if Chris hadn't pushed her out of the way." Nathan answered Ezra's original question. 

"So the bullet could have been meant for Mrs. Travis?" Ezra frowned into his drink. 

Vin shook his head. "Yeah, but it could have been for Chris, since he was behind her and to her right. . ." 

"Puttin' him right in the line of fire!" Buck's horrified conclusion was met with several frowns. 

"Perhaps we should keep an eye on our illustrious leader? To ensure that he has the opportunity to become an elected official?" Standish's suggestion was meet with three confirming nods. 

"Already been doin' that," Vin said as he pointed to himself, Nathan, and Josiah. Up until the lunch hour, one of them had constantly been by Chris' side. When he had left his watch over Chris, Tanner had enlisted the help of Yosemite, the large blacksmith. The man gave the tracker his most solemn vow to protect the Seven's leader. 

"Speakin' of Chris being mayor," Buck said, taking a slight detour in the conversation. "I've been givin' it some thought. . . ." 

"Really, Bucklin? Ain't that dangerous for you?" 

"Ha. Ha. Very funny, Vin." Snickers followed both comments. Buck waved his fork in the air. "Like I was sayin', I've been getting this funny feeling that Chris being mayor ain't such a good idea after all." 

"And how do you figure this, Buck?" JD frowned in confusion. How in the world could Chris being mayor be a bad thing? 

"Well, think about it, boys!" Once again the fork slashed through the air, emphasising Buck's words. "Y'all already seen how Chris had to clean up his act when he decided to run in this race. I mean, I can't even remember the last time that boy actually put on a suit! And he's talkin' to people he usually ignores!" 

"Buck, that's called being polite." Josiah's warm grin, yet sarcastic words, bounced right off Wilmington. 

"Exactly! Chris ain't polite!" Buck stabbed the air with his knife this time, vaguely pointing down the street towards the picnic grounds. "That ain't the real Chris!" 

Smiling, Ezra laid down his fork and leaned back in his chair holding up his hands to calm Buck. "Mr. Larabee's actions are nothing more than a tactic that any good politician will use," he explained. "He is merely enhancing his image to win more votes." 

"Yeah, but when does it stop? When does Chris stop actin' all nice and polite? Will he ever stop?" Buck looked around the table. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm kinda fond of the bad-ass, gunslingin' cowboy." 

Vin shook his head. "Buck, just 'cause Chris is being all nice now, don't mean he ain't Chris. Chris changed his clothes, not who he is." 

"Yeah, but does he expect us to change too?" Buck's comment froze everyone. 

"You're gonna have to explain that one, Buck." Nathan's voice broke the quiet. 

"Well, aren't candidates usually rich, high-society type people?" At his friends' nods, Buck continued. "Well, we all know Chris ain't exactly high-society." Snickers and smiles answered that comment. "So what if he decides that to win this election, he has to fit in with those high-society types." 

"Buck, I still don't get what that has to do with us," JD said with the impatience of youth. 

Buck waved the young man silent with a motion of his hand. "Hold your horses, kid, I'm getting there. Anyway, to fit in with these high-society people, he's gonna have to look and act like them. Now, what if Chris decided that we had to fit in with those kinds of people too? What if we had to start dressin' like 'em? And talkin' like 'em? Just to fit with 'em. . . so we won't embarrass him." 

"What if he wants Vin to cut his hair? Or maybe Chris'll want Ezra to stop gambling?" Buck swallowed hard, "Or maybe, he'll want me to stop. . . oh, hell, no! I ain't givin' up the ladies for nobody!" 

Buck's words caused looks of horror to cross each man's face as the implications of Chris being mayor finally sunk in. 

"We gotta talk to Chris," Vin said with a determined edge to his voice. 

Chair legs scraped the saloon floor as six men stalked out of the bar, with determination in their step and a mission on their minds.

"If there is one more shooting, we may not have a choice," Orrin replied, dropping his half-eaten sandwich onto his plate. "I won't stand for innocent people getting hurt if we can avoid it."  

"I agree, but Chris is right. If we stop now...," Mary trailed off as six men stalking down the street appeared in her line of sight. Dropping her hand on Chris' arm, she squeezed it to draw his attention. When curious eyes glanced at her, she nodded towards the advancing party. 

Sitting up straighter, Chris ran appraising eyes over the men. From their body language, he could tell something had their hackles up. Rising, he excused himself to meet the men on the edge of the eating area. "Something wrong?" he asked, when they were within earshot. 

Pulling to a halt, the men spread out so that they were forming a semicircle in front of the mayoral candidate. Being in the middle, Buck took it upon himself to act as the spokesperson for the group.  

Holding his hand in the air in an agitated manner, Wilmington opened his mouth several times before anything actually passed by his lips. When he finally did succeed in forming sounds into syllables and syllables into words, they tumbled out in excited phrases, each emphasized by a finger pushing itself into Chris' chest at each pause. "Vin ain't cuttin' his hair, Ez ain't givin' up cards, and I. . . I ain't givin' up women." Pausing to draw a deep breath as if he had just finished a soliloquy, Wilmington nodded once and summed up his feelings. "You can't be mayor." 

Gazing down at his chest at the spot where moments before a finger had jabbed itself several times, he slowly raised his eyes to the men before him. Staring at each of them like they had suddenly grown two heads, Chris settled his gaze back on Wilmington before saying, "Do any of you know what he's talking about? And why aren't some of you covering Bales and Weston?" 

"Misters Bales and Weston are fine. They are behind you," Ezra retorted, dismissing Chris' concern. "As for what Mr. Wilmington was attempting to say. . . ." Standish paused as hard green eyes cut to him. Thankfully, Josiah interjected, saving him from digging himself in deeper. 

"I think what Buck was trying to say was that we are not entirely sure that you're telling us everything that is going on," the big man said, watching Chris' reaction to the comment closely. 

Steeling his features, Chris looked into the former priest's face. "What makes you say that?" 

"For one, you're running for mayor after you were very adamant that you weren't going to run," Josiah began. 

"Never thought of you as bein' a politician Chris," Nathan added. "Any politician I seen tries to make people think they're something they're not. And that ain't you." 

"Nope, you scare people, not dupe 'em," JD interjected. After receiving several thumps from the men beside him, the young man added, "What? It's the truth. Half the time folks ain't sure iffen' he's gonna shoot 'em or walk away."

Shaking his head, partly in amusement, partly in disbelief over what JD had just said, Vin took a step forward. "The shootin' this morning. . . those bullets where aimed at you or Mary," the long haired tracker said quietly, watching as Chris pursed his lips as if contemplating the information. 

After a few moments, the black clad man finally broke the silence that had descended. "And?" 

Taken back by the apparent unflappability of their leader, the six men glanced at each other. "And we wanna know what goin' on," Buck said quietly, bringing his eyes back to his oldest friend. 

Realizing that people were finishing their lunch and beginning to move back to the main part of the festivities, Chris glanced back towards the Travises. Nodding an affirmative to Mary's unspoken question, he turned back to the men before him. "For now, all you've got to do is keep an eye out for trouble and don't let Weston or Bales out of your sight," he said. Feeling Mary slip her hand onto the crook of his arm, he threw a small smile at her as he continued. "What's going on this afternoon?" 

"Besides the shooting match and the auction, nothing much. Folks will vote for the new mayor at four, and the dance starts after that is done," Mary said, trying to gauge how much the peacekeepers had gotten out of Chris. Unsure, she decided she would ask him later. Turning on the full-force of her smile on the man beside her, she continued. "Shall we go? If I'm not mistaken, the shooting match is next." 

Nodding towards the men and throwing them a look telling them to keep their eyes open, Chris moved off with Mary leaving the six men still unsure of what was going on. 

"Well, that was illuminating," Ezra threw out sarcastically. 

"JD, Buck, you two keep an eye on them," Vin ordered, nodding in the direction of the candidates Chris wanted watched. "The rest of you keep an eye on them," he added, jutting his chin towards Chris and Mary who had stopped a short ways down the street so that Orrin and Evie could join them. 

"What are you gonna do?" Buck asked. 

"Me? I'm gonna go win me a new rifle," Vin retorted, starting down the street towards the shooting match. 

As the town folk surrounding the gambler began to dwindle, Ezra noticed the familiar form waiting for him. Nodding his head, he raised his voice a little so that it would carry to large man. "Mr. Sanchez, have you come to join the rest of the town intent on sucking every last dime from me?" he asked dryly, pinning his friend with a flat stare. 

Chuckling, Josiah dropped his foot and stood up straight. "What's the matter Ezra?"

"I don't," Orrin said, scanning the unfamiliar faces. "Chris? Mary?" 

Shaking his head, Chris glanced over to see Mary making a similar gesture. "Haven't seen them around town until now," the gunslinger said, peering intently at the two. From their appearance, they were most likely cowhands who happened to be passing by the town and were drawn to the festivities. Still, Chris decided he wanted to keep an eye on them. 

Stepping forward, Orrin Travis called out to draw all attention to himself. "Ladies and Gentlemen. It's time for the shooting contest. Please remember to keep back behind the contestants so there are no unfortunate accidents." Waiting to make sure everyone was going to heed his warning, the judge continued, directing his attention to the six men waiting to compete. "Gentlemen, each of you will be given the opportunity to shoot at a variety of targets. To make sure no one has an unfair advantage, each of you will be using the same gun," he said, holding up a glistening Winchester '73 rifle, "which the gunsmith assures me is in perfect working order." Handing the gun down to Buck to place on the table, Travis added, "The winner will get to take that fine looking rifle home with them as well as $20 in prize money."

"In the interest of saving time, the contestants have all agreed to start at the 50 yard mark. That is where Yosemite is currently standing," Travis said, pointing towards the large stable hand outside of town. "Yosemite has set up whiskey bottles on the boxes. Whoever does not hit the their bottle will be eliminated. Those of you who make that shot will then have the opportunity to aim for another set of bottles at 75 yards." Travis paused to allow the crowd to quiet down after a murmur of excitement ran through it. "If necessary, any remaining shooters will then attempt to hit bottles hanging from the tree out there, 100 yards away." Another murmur went through the crowd. With the light breeze blowing, the last set of bottles would surely be moving, making them that much harder to hit. 

Chambering a round, the first contestant took aim and fired, easily destroying the target. Behind him, four of the five men quickly followed suit, with the fifth man missing the bottle entirely. Reloading the rifle, Buck handed it back to the first man in line. Raising it, he again splintered the bottle presented to him. Handing the rifle to the next man, he grinned confidently at Vin as he moved to wait his turn on the next round. The second and third men both missed the bottles at 75 yards and were eliminated. Vin and the remaining man both made the shot easily. 

Turning towards Chris, Mary leaned close and whispered over the roaring crowd, "Do all cowhands know how to shoot like that?" 

Shaking his head slowly to tell her no, Chris again eyed the newcomers who seemed to be able to rival Vin in shooting ability. Peering hard at them, he noticed that each of them wore their guns tied low on the their legs. Further inspection revealed that their holsters where well oiled and showed sign of heavy use.  

"Don't think they're just cowhands," Chris finally murmured to Mary, while searching the crowd for the other peacekeepers. Finally spotting them, he realized that all of them had already come to the same conclusion as he had and had placed themselves in close proximity to the contestants. 

Turning his eyes back to the shooters, Chris saw the lead man was again preparing to shoot. A silence descended in the street as he lined up the shot. A roar went up at the bullet shattered the swaying bottle. Nodding, as if talking to himself, the man tossed the gun on the table and turned towards the clapping crowd, raising his hat. 

Ignoring the man, Vin quietly stepped forward and picked up the rifle. Holding it up, he drew a bead on the bottle and held his breath. Feeling the breeze caressing his face, he slowly moved the rifle to adjust for the wind and pulled the trigger. Another roar from the crowd exploded as the bottle blew into a thousand shards. 

Answering Buck's raised eyebrow with a small grin, Tanner handed the rifle over to the final contestant. The man stepped forward and raised the gun to his shoulder. Sighting the bottle, he squeezed the trigger. A moan of disappointment echoed down the street as the bottle continued to dangle from the tree, untouched by the bullet. 

Clapping his approval at the fine marksmanship, Judge Travis stepped forward and raised his hands to quiet down the crowd. "Gentlemen, fine job, but we still don't have a winner. Yosemite will hang more bottles up. You each will have three bottles to shoot at this time. If both of you hit all three of them, you'll then shoot at the ropes holding what's left of the bottles." 

Again loading the rifled, Buck laid it on the table and pulled a coin from his pocket. "What you boys say. . . should we flip to see who goes first?" 

Seeing a shrug from Vin and a nod from the stranger, Buck pointed to the cowhand. "Call it," he said, as he tossed the coin in the air. 

"Heads," the cowhand said, watching the silver object hit the ground. Smiling, he stepped forward and picked up the rifle as Buck retrieved his coin. Raising the rifle to his shoulder, the cowhand took aim and fired. Smiling, he lowered the weapon and chambered another round. Again sighting his target, he fired the second shot, shattering the bottle. Grinning over this shoulder at his opponent, he again worked the lever on the gun. Putting the rifle up, he squeezed the trigger. A moan rippled through the crowd as the third bottle continued to sway in the breeze. Grunting, the man handed the gun back to Buck and stepped away from the table to watch. 

Picking up the gun, Buck shoved three rounds back into it, before handing it to Vin. Leaning close, he whispered, "You can do this. Seen ya make harder shots when you been half dead." 

Acknowledging the big man, Tanner stepped forward and drew the rifle to his shoulder. Part of his mind registered the silence that had again descended upon the crowd. Blocking everything else out, he focused on the glass objects glistening in the distance. Suddenly three shots rang out as he fired and chambered the next rounds without lowering his weapon between rounds. The glass shards had barely hit the ground before three more shots echoed across the countryside. A roar erupted from the crowd as the cords that had been holding the necks of the broken bottles were severed, sending them to the ground also. 

Ducking his head and smiling in embarrassment at the bear hug he received from Buck, Vin held the rifle out to the cowhand. 

Shaking his head, the man held out his hand towards Vin. "Mister, I think I'll stop before I embarrass myself," he said, pumping Tanner's hand in congratulations.  

"Nice shootin'," Vin replied. 

"Not much else we can do," Chris murmured. "We haven't been able to take anyone alive to find out who's behind the attacks." Catching the guarded looks from Buck and JD on the opposite side of the street, he grinned and nodded towards them. "Day ain't been a total waste though." 

Following Chris' gaze, Mary laughed at the sight of the two peacekeepers scrambling out of sight. "Well, congratulations, Mr. Larabee, you have scared the hell out of your men." 

"Next time, they'll think twice before doing something like this," Chris grinned down at her, waving his hand at the campaign poster with his name on it they were passing. 

Mary was about to say more when suddenly the arm beneath her hand turned rock hard. "Chris?" 

"You remember that cowhand in the shootin' match?" Chris asked, eyes riveted on something further down the street. 

"The one that lost to Vin?" 

"No," Chris shook his head. "The one before him." 

Mary nodded, the image of the red haired man with the low-slung gun in her mind. "Yes, why?" 

Chris didn't answer, instead he quickened his pace, forcing Mary to do the same. Within seconds they had crossed the street and were heading down a side street. 

"Chris? What?" Mary asked, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

"Shh," Chris urgently whispered, pulling her flat against the wall. With a tilt of his head, he indicated for her to listen. 

"The boss ain't happy with you." 

"Well, I ain't happy neither. I've lost seven men already. How am I suppose to finish this with only four left?" 

"That's your problem, ain't it." 
"It's gonna be your's," the red headed cowboy s

narled back, "if the boss looses this election." 

"You do your job and he won't. Once Larabee is dead. . . " 

"Yeah, but he ain't yet, is he?"

"Then you've got a job to finish, don't you?"

Realizing that the question indicated the end of the conversation, spurred Chris into action. Pushing Mary out of the bright sunlight into a dark alcove under the stairs, he blocked her body with his own. The darkness of his clothes was the perfect camouflage against the blackness and the glare. Only when they heard the two men's departure did he dare move. Chris met Mary's wide eyes and sighed. 

"But we still don't know if it's Bale or Weston behind it," Travis sighed. Looking at Mary, he said, "What's your take, Mary? You know them the best. Which one would gain the most from winning the election?" 

Frowning in concentration, Mary looked at the floor while trying to think about what she knew of the two men. "Well," she began slowly, "Weston has been very vocal in wanting all of you out of town, but I'd say Bale." Looking up she clarified her statement. "He's always had strong ties to the ranchers."  

Nods of agreement came from around the room as Vin said, "Heard rumors he put up part of the money when them cowboys ran everybody out of town and killed Marshall Bryce." 

Straightening, Chris picked his hat up from the desk. "Vin, keep an eye on that cowhand, Josiah, Weston. Ezra, you get Bale."  

"And am I to presume that you wish us to discover who might be associating with these gentlemen?" Ezra straightened his cuffs as he asked the question. 

"Yes, but don't play hero, Standish. If anyone finds out anything, we'll meet back here to decide what to do," Travis ordered, his eyes sweeping the room, making sure that all seven understood the message. Then six nodded, saluted their employer, and exited the jail house. 

Orrin sighed as he perched on the edge on JD's desk. "Well, Chris, it looks like you're going to have to play the candidate for a while longer." 

"That's the way it has to be, Judge," Chris solemnly agreed. Straightening, he settled his hat on his head. "Don't like you, Evie and Mary being in the line of fire, though." 

"I know, I don't like it that Mary and Evie are in danger either. However. . . ." Forestalling the heated words he knew would be erupting from Mary's mouth at Chris' veiled attempt to remove her from the rest of the day's events, Orrin threw up his hand toward her. "If they aren't out there beside us, it may spook whoever is behind all of this and send them back into hiding."  

"Or allow them to be elected Mayor," Mary stressed, her eyes darting between the two men who had been talking about her like she wasn't there. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't really keen on being in the line of fire either. However, she was less keen on the idea of being tucked away somewhere. If that happened, she would have no chance of keeping Chris from doing something stupid, like taking on the person or persons behind this by himself. Images of the last time he had done this - walking down the street and exchanging fire with Roscoe Coltraine as he tried to ride him down – still filled her nightmares. 

"Duly noted, my dear," Orrin sighed, realizing the damage this could do to the town. Standing, he straightened his coat. "Right now, you and Chris need to be out there. The auction is going on and it's a prime opportunity for you to lock up the popular vote."  

The older man chuckled at the glare thrown at him by the black clad man before the door swung shut. 

Looking over his shoulder at the mayoral candidate diligently mopping up the small amount of whiskey that had dripped on the table while he was pouring, Buck glanced back at Ezra. "Yeah. So?" 

"So, it has been my experience, that any man that fastidious is so in all aspects of his life," Ezra observed, eyeing the amber liquid in the shot glass.  

Confused, Buck glanced back again at the conman. "So?" 

Sighing, Ezra leveled a steady gaze at the Buck. "Really, Mr. Wilmington, we must work on your vocabulary." Averting his eyes back towards Bale, the southerner felt a smile tug at his lips. "People like Mr. Bale have two very useful qualities for people in my trade to use against them. The first being their need for order; the second, their fortuitous habit of documenting even the smallest transaction." 

Comprehension began to dawn on Buck, "So you're saying, if he. . .," he said, trailing off as a large grin erupted under his mustache. 

"If he is behind the attempts on Mr. Larabee's life, then he may have kept a record of any payments made to achieve this." Ezra finished Buck's sentence, tossing the whiskey back. Setting the glass down, Standish turned a wolfish grin towards Buck. "If you would be so kind to take over watching Mr. Bale, I believe there is a delicate matter that needs my attention." 

Chris' eyes searched the sea of faces for danger. "The last time the ranchers went after us it was because we were in their way." 

"But you haven't done anything to bother the ranchers lately." Mary paused and peered suspiciously at the man beside her. "You haven't, have you?" 

Chris plastered his most innocent smile on his face. 

"Uh huh," Mary scoffed. 

Chris widened his eyes and placed his hand over his heart in earnest. 

Mary smiled at him and shook her head. "Incorrigible," she said laughing, refusing to buy the act. 

"STAMPEDE!" 

The terrifying call echoed down the streets seconds before the sound of the pounding hooves reverberated off the buildings. Horrified, Chris and Mary watched as the livestock intended for sale at the auction came bearing down upon the town. The whine of a bullet sailing past jolted them from their stunned horror.  

Grabbing Mary, Chris dove for the nearest doorway. 

Diving for cover, Tanner yanked his mare's leg and tried to spot the location of the shooter. The dust from the running animals blurred his vision while the sound of terrified screams and gunshots filled his ears. 

"Weston, if you want to be mayor, I suggest you move your...." The pounding of hooves drowned out the remainder of Josiah's words. Dragging the older man out of the street just as the first of the livestock rounded the corner, the two men pressed themselves against the building as the animals passed. Sanchez's eyes widened as a longhorn steer went onto the boardwalk a short distance from their location. Grabbing Weston, he shoved the shorter man through the Feed Store window before following him inside. 

Shaking his head, JD instinctively ducked at the sound of the bullets whizzing overhead. "Last I saw him, he was by the telegraph office," the sheriff called to Buck, before raising up and firing several shots at the outlaws shooting at him. 

Darting around the corner, Buck bent low and ran down the boardwalk, flinching as the bullets sent splinters of wood towards him as he passed. Skidding to a halt behind a water trough, he chanced several quick looks around the street. Raising his gun, he snapped off two quick shots and grinned in satisfaction as one of outlaws who had JD and him pinned down fell. The grin quickly faded as a bullet took his hat off his head. 

"Vin!"  

"Five, maybe six," the tracker called back, never taking his eyes from the street in front of him and firing another round. The thud of a body falling from the roof followed the shot. "Four, maybe five," he retorted dryly, correcting his earlier count. 

Bale was crouched at the opposite end of the opening. Nathan could tell he had a gun drawn and was preparing to take a shot. Creeping forward, the healer quietly slid his gun from the holster as he advanced. Stopping behind the mayoral candidate, Jackson peered into the street to see what Bale was aiming at. Spotting the most likely target, he felt his anger raise.  

"Drop it," Jackson growled, pulling the hammer back on his gun. 

"Don't shoot!" a faceless voice answered. "We're coming out!" 

"Throw out your guns and let me see your hands," Vin yelled back, slowly rising with his gun ready. 

Herding up the two standing outlaws near him, Vin saw Buck kick a third in the rear to 'help' him down the street. "Shoot a man's hat off his head," the mustached man was grumbling as he did it. 

Running his eyes over the three men before him, Chris knew they were simply hired hands. Even as he asked them who had hired them, he wasn't expecting an answer. When one was not forthcoming, he nodded for Buck and JD to take them to the jail.  

Looking around the street, Chris suddenly tensed. "Where's Bale and Weston?"  

"Bale is right here," Nathan called, coming out of the opening between the building, using his gun to nudge the suited man to proceed him. "Was fixin' to shoot ya in the back," Nathan explained, bringing him to a halt in front of Chris.  

Snarling, Chris stepped forward and shoved his face into Bale's. "Who you working for?" he demanded. 

Bale instinctively stepped backward to escape the venom in Chris' face. "Well. . . I. . . nobody," he sputtered when his progress was halted by the feel of a gun barrel in his back. 

"Then why were you gonna shoot him?" Vin demanded. 

"Shoot him?" Bale reiterated nervously. "I wasn't going to shoot him, I was merely going to defend myself. . . against the outlaws." Another poke of the gun in his back stopped him from saying anything further. 

"Only shot you had from where you was at was at Chris," Nathan retorted dryly.  

"Why would I shoot Mr. Larabee? I can assure you I bear him no ill will. . . ." 

"Then, the money you so generously. . . donated, shall we say, to the Rancher's Association has nothing to do with the attempts on Mr. Larabee's life?" Ezra drawled, coming up behind the little bespectacled man. 

"What. . . .? Why. . . .? Where did you get that?" Bale demanded, lunging toward the ledger in Ezra's hands. 

"Ah, ah, now, Mr. Bale. I'm sure the fine citizens of this town would be very interested in knowing exactly what your money has been supporting. Wouldn't you agree?" the southerner finished, his tone carrying an edge of false innocence and sincerity in it. 

Seeing petulance settle on the older man's face, Chris grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the jail. "Lock him up. We'll let the Judge sort this thing out." 

As Vin and Ezra escorted the prisoner to jail to join him compatriots, Chris and Nathan were stopped from following them by the sound of Mr. Weston calling their names. "Mr. Larabee! Mr. Jackson! I demand you lock this heathen up!" Weston announced, huffing and puffing as he lumbered to a halt in front of the two peacekeepers. Behind him, Josiah stopped and pushed his coat back to rest his hands on his hips. 

"Who? Josiah?" Chris asked, looking at Nathan and Josiah in surprise before peering at his remaining opponent.

"Yes, Mr. Sanchez," Weston nodded emphatically. 

Chris raised an eyebrow and looked toward Josiah for an explanation. 

"Threw him through a window so he wouldn't get run over by a steer," Josiah sighed, dropping his hands from his hips in resignation. 

Looking down, Chris kicked at a clod of dirt until he could hide the smile that the mental image was invoking. Beside him, Nathan was shifting nervously and seemed to need to take a long look at the other end of town. 

After a few minutes, Nathan turned back and looked towards Josiah. "Seems to me he should be grateful to ya for savin' his life," he said lightly, a hint of humor still tinging his voice. 
"Sounds that way to me," Chris seconded. 

"What? Saved my life? Why. . .," Weston sputtered, offended by the thought. 

Turning his back on the red faced man, Chris threw over his shoulder, "Come on. I'll buy ya both a drink." 

Joining Chris, Nathan chuckled, "A man can raise an awful thirst savin' people now." 

"Everybody's tucked in nice and tight, Chris." Buck slouched into his chair, sipping his beer. "The Judge's talkin' to 'em." 

"Who's guarding them?" Chris asked, truly relaxing for the first time all day. 

"JD and Vin. Travis has got Ez playing secretary - taking notes, confessions." Buck grinned devilishly.

"Wonder if he knows shorthand?" 

Chris rolled his eyes while Nathan and Josiah laughed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw a flash of gold and blue. Draining his glass, he stood. "If you boys'll excuse me. . . . ." 

The three men turned to see what had caught the gunslinger's attention. 

Buck grinned mischievously at the other two men, then softly sang out, "Chris and Mary sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Chris with a baby carriage."

If glares could kill, Buck Wilmington would have been a greasy spot. 

Mary twisted her hands. "Actually, Chris, uhm, your name isn't off the ballot."

"What do you mean my name isn't off the ballot?" Chris stalked forward, the soft words dangerously ringing in the air. 

Mary began backing away. "Well, I. . . you see. . . I. . . ." 

"You left my name on there, hoping that I'll get elected, then I'd have to be mayor, didn't you?" Chris watched as she continued to back away from him. 

Mary nervously licked her lips but despite his anger, that small movement distracted him. Distracted him long enough for Mary to pick up her skirts and flee for her life. He growled deep in his throat. 

The chase was on. 

Buck shrugged but the huge grin on his face said that he was having too much fun watching their antics to care. 

"Do you think, maybe, one of us should go make sure Chris doesn't, ah, do anything he'll regret?" Nathan's quiet question had Buck shaking his head. 

"Nah, ol' Chris won't do anything to Miz Travis. . . nothing bad anyway." The grin and wink told the others exactly what the rogue was hoping Chris would do to the lovely Mrs. Travis. 

"Are you certain about that, Mr. Wilmington?" 

"How about this, Ez?" Buck turned to the gambler. "Ten bucks says that Chris and Mary come back here, in time for the dance, with her on his arm and both smiling like nothing ever happened." 

Ezra raised a sleek brow. "You have yourself a deal, my friend." 

Mary picked up her skirts again, but with only one hand. The other she used to steady herself amongst the tree roots. "Of course, if Chris finds me, I may never make it back home." 

"Now, that's a distinct possibility."

Mary barely muffled a shriek as large hands grabbed her by the hips and pinned her back against the rough bark of a nearby tree. Mary gasped as she realized how close Chris' body was to hers. Looking up into his stony face, Mary swallowed nervously. "Chris." 

"Mary." He was making her nervous. Good, he wanted it that way. He edged even closer and smiled ferally when Mary sucked in another breath. 

Her mind was awhirl as she struggled to take in all the sensations. His masculine scent, the feel of his hard body caging her from escape, the steady breathing of a predator barely winded by the hunt. She knew what he was trying to do and it infuriated her. Mary stiffened her spine and attacked before he could. "I don't understand why you don't want to be mayor! Think about all the difference you can make in that position!" 

"No." 

"No?" Mary grabbed Chris by the shirt, pulling him down to her eye level. Her eyes were shooting blue-hot flames. "What do you mean by 'no'?" 

Chris grinned, knowing that it infuriated the widow. "No." 

"Fine! You want me to take you off the ballot? Fine! I'll take you off!" Mary shoved at his chest trying to break free of his hold. But he wouldn't budge. Mary clenched her teeth. "Mr. Larabee, you have made yourself perfectly clear, now let me go." 

"No." He pressed her back against the tree, slipping his hand to her chin, tipping her head back. Mary's mutinous blue eyes glared back at him. "Mary, you need to understand something." 

Mary quirked an eyebrow and waited. If she could have moved her arms, she would have assumed the age-old feminine stance of impatient waiting. . . .hands on hips, foot tapping on the ground. She settled for the foot tapping and an almost lethal glare. 

"I'll die to protect the people in that town." Chris silenced her with a finger when Mary started to protest. "I'll die for them, but I won't change for them." 

"Change? No one's asking you to change!" Now Mary was really confused. 

"Really? You really think the fine upstanding citizens will accept me as I am, after they've elected me?" Chris ran his thumb along her jawline, savoring the silkiness of it. "Just the way I am, Mary. All six feet something of bad tempered, hard drinking, son of a bitch that might one day shoot somebody because they pissed me off?" 

Mary opened her mouth but then shut it. She shook her head, sending a lock of hair swirling down to her shoulders. "No. No, they would expect the mayor to act like someone like Mr. Weston." 

Chris smiled, knowing that Mary finally understood. He tucked the errant strand back into place, lightly caressing her soft hair. "Hmmm, could you ever see me like Mr. Weston?" 

Mary smiled ruefully and shook her head. "No." 

"So you'll take me off the ballot?" 

Mary nodded with a resigned sigh.

"Good, let's get back, otherwise people will talk." The grin he sent her was pure rakehell. 

Mary grinned back at him but didn't let go of his shirt. Instead, she smoothed down the wrinkles. "Chris?" 

"Hmmm?" Chris studied the top of her blonde head, quickly tired of it and tipped back her head once more to stare into her eyes. 

Mary coquettishly smiled and gazed up at him through her lashes. "Chris, does this mean you won't even consider running for the next term?" 

Chris stared, slack-jawed at her audacity. Then the groove of trees rang with deep rolling laughter as

Chris swept Mary into his arms in a tight embrace. 

The eyes watched as the beautiful couple walked hand in hand back towards the nearby town. 

Yes, the blonde lady was the one.

Finis