"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