"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.