"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.