A Test of Faith

By: Winnie

Chris Larabee looked across at his riding companion, a man he'd always found difficult to read and knew very little about. Josiah Sanchez was the oldest peacekeeper in their group of seven. What little they knew of the man came from bits and pieces he let slip when he opened up. Chris knew that Josiah had been a preacher at some point and that something had happened to cause his loss of faith, or perhaps it was more a matter of questioning Gods actions. He smiled as he thought of the older man's use of biblical quotes, some so profound it made his own head spin. He rode slightly ahead and to the left of the bigger man and sometimes caught sight of a deep sadness on his friend's face.

Josiah could feel the gunslinger's gaze on him, but didn't say anything. This was the third day of their journey to the small town of Quemado on the opposite side of Devil's Den Canyon. Josiah briefly wondered why they'd called it a canyon when it was more like a small mountain range. They'd be reaching Quemado late in the afternoon and he looked forward to a hot meal and a soft bed before they picked up the gold shipment and headed back for Four Corners. Josiah knew it wasn't gold they'd be transporting but paper money and he knew Chris wanted to keep a low profile. The last telegram they had received from the Sheriff in Quemado stated some members of Nelson's gang were seen in the area. Larabee knew Nelson and had told the others to be on the lookout for him or any other strangers coming into Four Corners. He kept his eyes forward as the gunslinger turned away from him.

Chris let his mind wonder back a few days, replaying his conversation with Circuit Judge Orrin Travis. The man had asked them to protect the shipment for the army and bring it safely through the mountains. Two earlier shipments had been hijacked and the twelve soldiers assigned to escort the second had died in their attempts to protect it, their bodies left to decay in the blistering sun. At the request of the Army Chris was undertaking the same task, but keeping it low profile. He reached for his canteen and sipped at the tepid liquid. His thoughts turned towards the end of this part of their journey — Quemado, a small town that harboured more bad element than Four Corners ever had. They'd gone through six sheriff's in two years until Eli Mercer took the job a little over six months ago. The town seemed to be coming into its own, much the same as Four Corners was doing under the watchful eye of the seven peacekeepers hired by Judge Travis.

Chris knew his life had changed that fateful day when a stray bullet shattered the top half of the whiskey bottle in his hand. He courted death in those days, not caring whether he lived or died. His heart stayed hardened to the people around him until six men joined him in an effort to save a Seminole village. That day was etched forever in his mind as the day when his life became his once more. It didn't belong to empty whiskey bottles or misguided gunfights anymore. It belonged to the family the group of seven formed that day. He sighed heavily and continued to pace the horse and rider beside him.

His mind slowly turned to the image of a pretty blond newspaperwoman. From the moment they'd met he knew she could be a force to be reckoned with. The deep blue eyes, the blond hair pulled back in a tight bun. If someone had told him that day that he'd have feelings for the 'cold woman' he would've laughed. Now, when he thought of her a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the heat of the day. Mary Travis and her son, Billy, were now an integral part of his life.

"Chris."

Larabee turned to his companion as the soft baritone voice broke through his thoughts. "Something wrong, Josiah?"

"Nothing a little break won't fix. Why don't we stop and enjoy the splendor of the mountains? The Lord gave us eyes to see with and a mouth to eat with and right now my stomach is telling my mouth it's time to eat."

Larabee smiled at the older man's words, feeling his own stomach grumble in anticipation of food. He knew they'd be having jerky and cold biscuits, but at least it was something. "Then I guess we stop here," he said.

"My stomach and I thank you Brother," the ex-preacher said as he slid from Dulcinea. It wasn't long before a fire was made and hot coffee was brewing. The two men sat in companionable silence, enjoying the crisp air of the mountain pass.

Mary Travis stood in front of the saloon, her long blond hair neatly braided down her back as she talked with Vin Tanner and Nathan Jackson. She knew Chris Larabee and Josiah Sanchez had left Four Corners three days before after speaking with her father in law. She also knew the reason for the hasty trip and knew it was being kept hushed up in order to keep the two men safe. Normally Vin would have been the one to accompany Chris, but he was still recovering from injuries sustained in a hold up the week before. He and JD Dunne were both staying close to home for another week. Buck Wilmington was busy; Mary felt the blush come to her cheeks as she thought of just what the ladies' man was busy with. She turned her head towards the window where he would be spending his afternoon with Blossom. The last member of the seven was Ezra Standish, and she knew he'd just be rising. The man stayed up till all hours of the night and slept through most of the day, yet he could be counted on as much as any other man in the group.

"Mary?" Jackson called for the second time.

"Sorry, Nathan," she apologized; turning back to the two men as she realized he'd asked her a question. "What did you say?"

"Any word from the Judge?" the healer asked.

"Not since he left. The Army is supposed to be here in a week to pick up the shipment from Chris and Josiah, but I still think there's something suspicious in the way it's being handled."

"Ya don't gotta convince me of that," Tanner said. His insides twisted as he thought about the reasons behind sending two men to pick up more than ten thousand dollars. Sure, they'd be less suspect than a contingent of soldiers, but if word ever reached Nelson's gang, or any other for that matter, Larabee and Sanchez would be sitting ducks.

"Chris should never have agreed to do this," Jackson stated simply.

"He didn't have much choice, Nate. Between Judge Travis and the Army it seemed like more than a request."

"Yeah, well, request or not I got a bad feeling about this whole thing," the healer said.

"You and me both, Nate. Mary, let us know if any strangers show up askin' about Chris or Josiah."

"I will, Vin. I'll see you both later," she said as she walked back towards the Clarion newspaper.

"Do you think that cover story will hold up?" Jackson asked the sharpshooter. It was a simple one. According to the peacekeepers who remained in town Chris Larabee was accompanying Josiah Sanchez to Vista City at the request of the nuns looking after his sister, Hannah. They knew this was still a sore point with the ex-preacher, but he seemed more willing to talk about it than before.

"I don't know, Nathan. Seems ta me folks 'ave a way of finding out things. I jest 'ope no one finds out 'fore they get back 'ere."

"Well, there's just us, Judge Travis and Mary..."

"And the Army, and that Sheriff in Quemado," Tanner said and the two men lapsed into worried silence, both thinking of the last time the army came to Four Corners and the trouble they caused.

Sheriff Eli Mercer watched the two men riding towards him. The man in the long black duster with the flat brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes could be none other than Chris Larabee. He'd heard tales about the man, some bad, some good, and yet his instincts told him he could be trusted. His companion had to be Josiah Sanchez. There was no mistaking the larger man. Mercer had heard Sanchez make a sermon once and the memory would stick with him forever. The deep voice could deliver a message like no other he'd heard since. He wasn't a church going man himself, but if Sanchez was to give a sermon while he was here he just might be inclined to attend. He watched the horses and riders close the distance, small puffs of dirt being disturbed and sent into the air as the hoofs made contact with the ground. He set his nearly empty cup on the rail and stood up to greet the newcomers.

"Sheriff Mercer?" Larabee asked as he slid from Diablo's back. His eyes raked over the man, taking in the short dark hair and eyes, the clean-shaven face, the dust covered black shirt, and the blue jeans. The man was well muscled and Chris guessed his age to be somewhere near fifty. He had an air of trustworthiness to him, but Larabee would reserve that opinion until this job was completed.

"Yep. You must be Larabee and Sanchez?" He smiled as he held his hand out in an offer of friendship.

"How'd you know?" Sanchez asked curiously.

"Saw you give a sermon once. I never forget a man who speaks louder than his congregation and yet doesn't put the fear of God into them."

Sanchez's blue eyes narrowed as he spoke. "That was a lifetime ago," he stated.

"Maybe it was, but it's still fresh in my mind as the day ya made it."

Chris saw the look come over Josiah's face and he knew the man was reliving something he didn't want too. "Sheriff, you know why we're here?"

Mercer turned to the green-eyed gunslinger and nodded once. He looked around at the deserted streets before speaking. "I just hope you know what you're getting into. The Army is taking a mighty big chance."

"Yeah, well, the Army's always taking chances," Larabee stated. "There a place we can get something to eat and spend the night?"

"Well, there's a fancy hotel at the end of the street or if it's more to you're liking there's Mrs. Tucker's boarding house. It may not be the fanciest place, but that woman can sure make a fine meal," Mercer answered. "When are you fellas planning on heading back?"

"As soon as we're done with our business in the morning," Larabee answered. "Figure the less time we spend here the less chance of people finding out why we're here."

"Yeah, the faster that money's outta this town the better I'll sleep at night," the sheriff told them.

Larabee let a thin smile appear on his face. This was something most lawmen had in common. Money seemed to attract attention, large amounts seemed to attract trouble. "Where's Mrs. Tucker's?" he asked, knowing Sanchez would appreciate the boarding house and the promise of a home cooked meal as much as he would.

"That two story house across the street," Mercer answered. "You just tell her I sent you over and she'll take good care of you both."

"Thanks, Sheriff," Larabee said as he turned to the house in question. A neat row of picket fencing surrounded the tiny two-story building. Multi colored flowers grew on either side of the door. The front door had a plain glass window with two tiny lace curtains pulled back to let sunlight bathe the interior. He walked across the street and opened the tiny gate. He knew Sanchez was behind him and knew the reminder of his days as a preacher had affected the man more than he wanted to admit. He didn't question the older man about his feelings, knowing this was a private thing and if Josiah wanted to talk about it he would. For now, he wanted to check in, grab something to eat and head for whatever passed as a saloon in the tiny town.

Sanchez knocked on the door and the two men waited for an answer. The ex-preacher surveyed the rest of the buildings, noting some were beyond repair while others were showing signs of life once again. Flowers were blooming, curtains swung in the slight breeze, and the smell of freshly baked apple pie assaulted his weary senses. He turned back to the door as a young boy opened it.

"Can I help you, Mister?" he asked.

"Is your Ma at home?" Larabee asked, smiling at the kid who could be no more than eight or nine.

"She's gettin' supper ready."

"Can you tell her we'd like to talk to her? Tell her Sheriff Mercer sent us?" Sanchez asked.

The boy turned his head towards the interior of the house and shouted, "Ma, there's two men here wantin' to talk too ya! They say the sheriff sent them!"

"Bring them in the kitchen, Joey!" a female voice called.

"Come this way," the boy ordered and led them down a narrow hallway into a brightly lit kitchen.

A woman stood beside a cluttered stove, beads of sweat causing stray strands of auburn hair to stick to her plain face. The eyes were deep pools of green flecked with gold. Although the woman looked tired, her face was filled with a warmth that belied the hardship of existence in a small town. She wiped her hands in her apron and swiped at her hair before holding her hand out to the newcomers.

"Eli sent you?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Larabee answered. "He told us you might have a couple of rooms available for the night."

"I got two rooms in the back. They're not much to look at but there's a bed, clean sheets and a fresh towel in each one. Will you be needin' supper or breakfast?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Sanchez answered.

"That'll be a dollar each for the rooms and another dollar for the two meals. Supper is served at seven sharp. Breakfast at six sharp. I run a pretty tight house," she informed them.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Larabee said as he handed her a couple of coins.

"My name's Betty Tucker and that's my boy Joey. He'll show you to your rooms."

"Chris Larabee," the blond introduced himself and tilted his head towards his companion. "He's Josiah Sanchez."

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Larabee, Mr. Sanchez."

Larabee nodded as a medium built man stepped from the hallway into the crowded kitchen. His brown hair was cropped short, his face was cleanly shaven, his clothes slightly dust covered, but what drew the gunslinger's attention was the cold brown eyes. The man stared at him, but dropped his gaze from Larabee's glare.

"Betty, is everything alright?" the newcomer asked as he glanced from Larabee to Sanchez and back to the woman.

"Everything's fine, Harvey. These gentlemen are gonna spend the night with us. Joey was just gonna show them to their rooms," she explained. "Chris Larabee, Josiah Sanchez, this is Harvey Marcus."

Larabee and Sanchez nodded at the man and turned to follow the woman's son from the hot kitchen.

Harvey Marcus watched the two men leave the room. Nelson had informed him at their last meeting that two men would be picking up the payroll and taking it to Four Corners. He wondered how Nelson got his information, smiling as he realized wherever it came from it hadn't failed them yet.

"Harvey, is something funny?" Betty asked.

Marcus shook himself from his thoughts and looked at the woman working over the stove. The last six months of staying with her and her brat was enough for him and once they had this final shipment he'd be leaving Quemado for good. He'd be glad to wipe the dust of this little hellhole off his body and leave the woman and child behind. The boy was okay, but the woman was developing feelings for him and he didn't want them. After this job he could get any woman he chose and didn't need to settle for the drab one standing before him.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about something. Supper smells mighty fine, Betty. Is that stew?"

"It is, Harvey. I told you I'd make it for you," the woman explained.

"Larabee and Sanchez are in for a treat. Apple pie?"

"Of course." She smiled.

"They may never want to leave."

"Is that why you stayed? My baking and my stew?"

"At first, maybe, but you know how I feel about you," he said as he reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Harvey, supper's gonna burn," she said as she slid out of his grasp. Something about his touch made her feel cold and she wondered what it was that kept her from making a commitment to him.

"All right, Betty, I'll go bring in the water you asked for," Marcus said as he left the room. He missed the slight tremor that ran through the woman's body as his hands left her.

Chris hung his saddlebags over the back of the chair by the window. The room was tiny, barely enough room for him to turn around, but it was clean. It didn't have the musty odor he associated with a lot of boarding houses. He sat on the edge of the bed and stretched tight muscles. His shoulders ached and he knew a shot of whiskey would be just the thing to make him feel human again. A light knock at the door made him raise his head. It opened to reveal Josiah Sanchez with a broad smile no his face.

"The saloon has a bottle with your name on it, Brother," Sanchez informed him.

"Sounds like a plan, Josiah. I could use a belt or two." Chris stood up and followed the older man out the door. He closed his room, knowing there was nothing in there that would give away who they were or why they were in Quemado. He didn't trust Harvey Marcus and he'd long ago learned to trust his instincts.

As they passed the kitchen Josiah looked through the door and smiled at the woman. "We'll be back in plenty of time for supper, ma'am," he said.

"Seven sharp, Mr. Sanchez," she warned him, her smile belying the strength of the words.

Josiah had a feeling they'd be fed no matter what time they showed up, but he wasn't going to be late. The smell of the apple pie was enough to make his stomach grumble appreciatively. He winked at Larabee as he walked past him, knowing the other man was just as hungry for real food as he was. The two peacekeepers strode side by side towards the saloon at the opposite end of the well-worn street. Neither man saw the grinning form of Harvey Marcus leaning against the side of the boarding house.

Harvey Marcus put his two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. Two short and one long was the signal he used when coming into Nelson's camp. He knew the two lookouts posted high above him on a rocky ledge could cut him down before he made it through the narrow canyon. The signal would prevent that from happening and he dug his heels into his horse's and rode into the camp.

He slid from his mount and smiled at the man sitting beside the small cook fire. They'd been friends for ten years and trusted each other. Harvey knew he could count on Hiram Nelson to watch his back and he'd do the same for Nelson. He did have a problem with Nelson's gang, they didn't know him and he wasn't sure how far the eight men trusted him.

"So, did the men arrive?" Nelson asked as he handed the newcomer the bottle of whiskey.

"Sure did, Hiram," Marcus grinned as he took a long slug on the whiskey.

"Who are they?" Nelson enquired as he took back the bottle. The other members of the gang sat back and let the two men talk. They'd seen them together before and knew the friendship went deep. Harvey Nelson was their leader and if he wanted Marcus as part of their gang then they wouldn't argue. It just didn't pay to argue with the man who'd brought them together and made them a force to be reckoned with.

"Josiah Sanchez and Chris Larabee."

"Larabee!" Nelson exclaimed. He stood up, a smile spreading on his face.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Long time ago before I left Indiana. Before Larabee turned into a gunslinger."

"Gunslinger? Is he any good?"

"Probably the fastest I've ever seen. Met up with him once after his wife and son were killed. He was pretty reckless after they died. Thought for sure he'd be gunned down long before this. Wish I'd have gotten the chance to kill him then, but it wasn't to be. Heard tell he was helping keep the law in some little town south of here. Can't seem to recall the name."

"Four Corners," a grey haired man known simply as Curly said softly.

"That's the place. There's supposed to be seven of them and they cleaned that town up pretty damned good."

"Yeah, they did. Ran out the so called bad element according to the folks I talked to," Curly told them.

"Larabee must be gonna bring the shipment to Four Corners. Army's probably gonna meet up with them there. Do you know when they plan on leaving?"

"Sometime tomorrow I'd say. They took rooms at Betty's for one night."

Nelson smiled and the light caught the twinkle in his blue eyes. "How are things between you and Mrs. Tucker?"

Marcus leered at his friend, "I'll be glad to leave her and that boy. That woman ain't what I want. As soon as we get this money I'm gonna find me the first willin' woman..."

"Willing?"

"You know what I mean, Hiram. I can't wait to get out from under her apron strings."

"She is a mite plain. Just think, one more night and you can leave her and that kid of hers. Stick out the night and leave as soon as Larabee and Sanchez do. Follow them at a distance and we'll meet you a days ride south at the entrance to the Cauldron."

"Cauldron?"

"Yeah, you know it?"

"Yeah. That's the narrow pass that marks the halfway point."

"That's the place. Once you're sure Larabee and his friend are headed that way you get ahead of them and meet us there. We'll be waiting for them when they get there. Give them a little welcome they won't ever forget," Nelson laughed.

"I'll be there."

"You'd best get back before you're missed, Harvey. Just be careful and try to get away tomorrow without drawing attention to yourself."

"Already arranged. I told Betty I'd go hunting. I've done it before so she won't be suspicious."

"Least not until you don't turn up. See you in two days," Nelson told his friend. "be careful, Larabee's a suspicious man by nature."

"I'll stay out of his way till we meet at the cauldron," Marcus assured him as he mounted his horse and headed back to Quemado.

Buck Wilmington grinned as he joined the four men seated at the table at the back of the saloon. He'd spent the night with Blossom and didn't mind the lack of sleep at all. "Inez, darlin', have ya got any coffee left or have these boys cleaned ya out?"

Inez shook her head and picked up the pot of coffee and another cup. She made her way to the table and refilled the other men's cups before pouring the dregs into the new one. "Sorry, Senor, I seem to have run out." Her eyes sparkled as she placed the cup in front of the ladies' man. She turned and walked back to the bar, a smile on her face.

"She has your number, Buck," Jackson laughed as Wilmington distastefully shoved the cup away from him.

"You boys just wait and see," Wilmington smirked. "One of these days Inez will come to appreciate what I have to offer. Why, just last week a young lady..."

"Oh, please, Buck, it's too early in the morning to listen to the tales of your conquests," JD interrupted.

"Ez, you been teaching JD them five dollar words of yours?" the scoundrel asked.

"I assure you Mr. Dunne does not need me to teach him. Now you could use a few lessons in articulation."

"Art what?" Wilmington asked.

"Articulation. Conversation. Getting one's point across," Standish explained in a put upon voice.

"Why didn'tcha just say so? I can ar-tic-u-late with the best when I feel the need. But there's other ways of articulatin' things that don't need no words." The ladies' man grinned at the others, his eyes coming to rest on the tracker. He knew Tanner was worried about the two missing men. The man was an open book when it came to friendship, at least his close friendship with Chris Larabee. He knew Vin would've liked to have gone with Larabee, but Jackson had insisted he stay in town. The right arm in the sling was a constant reminder of the attempted robbery the week before. Although the injury was not serious, Jackson was taking no chances.

Buck's thoughts were interrupted by laughter from JD Dunne. He turned to the kid wondering what it was he'd missed. He was about to ask when Mary Travis entered the saloon and walked towards them. The look on her face told him she was worried and he stood with the rest of the men as she closed the distance.

"Somethin' wrong, Mary?" Tanner asked.

"I hope not, Vin. I just got a telegram from Orrin." She looked around the saloon and was glad to see they were the only ones present. It was imperative they keep Chris Larabee and Josiah Sanchez's true location quiet until the two men returned and the payroll was off their hands. The paper in her hands made her nervous and she knew these men had a right to know everything.

"Orrin got a message from Captain Lewiston..."

"He's the man who requested we insure the payroll makes it through. What did the good Captain have to say?" Standish asked, the question bathed in sarcasm. He'd met Lewiston once and did not think much of him.

"He told Orrin they found the traitor who was giving away the information about the payroll deliveries. This man was part of Captain Lewiston's division for the past eight years and wasn't even under suspicion until he was caught with a map of the route."

"Did they ascertain whether he was able to pass the information to his cohorts?" Standish asked.

"He still had the map on him when he was caught. Captain Lewiston thinks they found out his identity before he met up with whoever he was going to see," Mary explained. Her soft worried gaze met the blue eyes of the tracker. She didn't know what he was thinking, but she had her suspicions. To her way of thinking there was only one way to be sure, and that wouldn't happen until Chris and Josiah were home and the payroll was a thing of the past.

Tanner saw the worry etched on her face and drawled softly, "Chris and Josiah can handle themselves. They'll be fine, Mary."

"Yeah, they'll be able to handle the Nelson gang," Dunne said with the exuberance of youth.

"I hope you're right JD," Mary said as she left the men to their thoughts.

"Maybe we should send a telegram to Quemado and tell them what's happened," Jackson suggested.

"Won't do no good," Tanner replied.

"Why not?" Wilmington asked.

"Because according to Chris they were leaving to come back this morning. By the time the message gets through they'll have left," the sharpshooter told them

"Even so, should any of Nelson's gang be in the vicinity, at least the sheriff would be forewarned. He could be on the alert for anyone who appeared to be headed in the same direction as our compatriots," Standish said.

"Ezra's right, Vin. Least this way we'll know if anyone's on their trail," the healer suggested. "We also need to keep an eye out for any strangers showing up here. If the traitor was able to get the information out then the gang will know where it's headed. They'll probably send someone here to scout things out in case they don't meet up with Chris and Josiah on the trail."

"You're right, Nathan," Tanner muttered.

"I'll get it sent right away." Jackson stood up and left the four men to their thoughts.

"Something just ain't right about this whole deal," Wilmington hissed sharply.

"What do you mean, Buck?" JD asked.

"He means this smells worse'n a room full'a skunks and two legged polecats," Tanner stated.

"You got that right, Vin," Wilmington agreed and the four peacekeepers lapsed into silence.

The town was still cloaked in darkness when Larabee and Sanchez stood outside the jail talking with the sheriff. A chill wind blew through the streets and Chris pulled his duster tight around his body.

"Seems like we're in for an early winter," Mercer commented.

"It does seem like the temperature is dropping," Sanchez agreed as he looked towards the lightening sky.

"We get used to it living as high in the mountains as we do. But this one seems a mite early even for our town. Maybe you boys should hold off until tomorrow," the sheriff suggested.

"The faster we get this done, the better," Larabee replied. "The Army is meeting us in Four Corners in a few days. If this thing does start who knows how long we'd have to wait for it to clear."

"Yep, we do get those kinda storms up here and you could end up snowed in. Just take it easy going through the pass. If it gets really heavy there's a trapper's cabin just past the Cauldron. You can't miss it. Look for a small trail leading through a rock formation that looks kinda like a big grizzly bear if you let your imagination work at it. Anyway, it's about the only rock in the area so it'll be easy to spot. I know old man Miller keeps it stocked for emergencies so you'll be pretty comfortable there."

"He won't mind if we use it?" Sanchez asked.

"Not at all. It belonged to his brother. They used it years ago when they were snowed in. Lived two long harsh months up there and showed up here healthier than when they left.. Miller seems to think he owes it to other people who get caught in stormy weather. All he asks is for you to replace what you use in case someone else needs it."

"No good deed goes astray," Sanchez smiled.

"Thanks for the information, Eli. I'm hoping we won't have need for it." Larabee held out his hand to the sheriff. The two men shook and Mercer handed over the strongbox. Chris shook his head at the locked chest. "This thing looks like it would fall apart in a strong breeze," he commented of the rusted hinges and dented 'strongbox.'

"I thought the same thing when it was delivered here," Mercer told them. "You boys don't take any chances on the ride back. Nelson and his gang are still out there and they've been responsible for the loss of the last couple of shipments."

"We will, Eli," Sanchez said as he shook the other man's hand. The Sheriff had met them at the saloon the night before and it didn't take long for them to become friends. A few shared whiskies and tales of similar stories brought about the change in attitude. They also found out Sheriff Eli Mercer held feelings for Betty Tucker.

"There's something fishy about the Army sending two men to protect a shipment of money and yet they put it in something that wouldn't hold off in a strong breeze," he repeated Larabee's own words.

"Tell me about it," Larabee hissed as he tied the box to the back of his saddle, covering it with a thin blanket.

"Sheriff, can I offer a word of advice?" Sanchez asked as he mounted Dulcinea.

"You can, Josiah, just can't promise to take it," Mercer smiled at the ex-preacher.

"Don't wait too long to talk with Mrs. Tucker. I have a feeling she wouldn't be adverse to you courting her."

Mercer smiled at Sanchez as he answered. "I might just do that, Josiah. Now you best get movin' before this town wakes up. I'll tell Mrs. Tucker you left because of the storm coming in."

"Thanks, Eli," Larabee said as he turned Diablo away from the jail. He felt Josiah pull in beside him and the two men rode away from the town of Quemado.

Harvey Marcus waited until the sheriff went back inside before moving towards his own horse. He knew the general direction Larabee and Sanchez would take and as soon as he was sure of their destination he'd make his way to the Cauldron. He wrapped the heavy coat around his body and mounted his horse. He eased the animal forward, not wanting to disturb the quiet solitude of the still sleeping town.

Mercer studied the wire he received that morning. Larabee and Sanchez had left the day before and he knew what he held in his hands did not bode well for the two men. The wire was brief, but warned of the possibility of the Nelson gang knowing what route the two peacekeepers would take. It asked if he noted any strangers interested in where the two men were headed. He knew Harvey Marcus had disappeared the same day Larabee and Sanchez left. Betty Tucker had told him the man was going hunting. Something about her tone when she spoke of the man told Mercer she didn't completely trust Marcus. He slipped his hands into his pocket and made his way to the telegram office to send a response. The snow swirling around the streets made him think of the two men higher up in the mountain pass. He prayed they'd take advantage of Miller's cabin rather than try and make it through in the worsening storm.

The storm held off until mid morning of the second day. Larabee and Sanchez huddled forward in their coats. The wind howled through the narrow pass, whipping the manes of the horses in a constant frenzy of motion. Both men were wrapped in the blankets they brought along with them.

Josiah spotted the Cauldron ahead as the first thick flakes of snow washed over their shivering forms. "CHRIS!" he shouted above the blustering wind.

Larabee turned his face towards his riding companion, his breath visible as he looked into the blue eyes.

"The Cauldron Mercer told us about is just ahead. Maybe we should find that cabin until this blows over."

"If it blows over," Larabee hissed.

"Keep your eyes open for that rock," the ex-preacher ordered as they fought their way through the mounting snow and wind.

"Get ready! Here they come," Hiram Nelson ordered softly as he lifted his gun and pointed at one of the mounted men. His sight came to rest on the strongbox tied to the back of the gunslinger's horse. All he had to do was hit the rope securing it to the saddle. He'd done it before and knew he could do it again. He gently squeezed back on the trigger and waited for Larabee to get a little closer. The snow made it hard for him to focus, but he knew he could make this shot at any time.

Larabee lifted his eyes and searched the area around the Cauldron. A shiver ran down his spine and he knew it had little to do with the chilly wind gusting through the pass. His instincts warned of danger before his eyes came to rest on the rocks to the left of the narrow pass. Before he could issue a warning a shot rang out and he heard something ping behind him. He didn't hear the second shot, but he felt it force its way through the thick layer of clothing he wore and enter his chest high on the right side. He cried out as he tumbled from the saddle.

Sanchez knew something was wrong. He'd been watching the same rocks, thinking it was the perfect place for an ambush, when the first shot rang out. His head whipped around and he knew Larabee had also heard it. He watched helplessly as the gunslinger was dumped unceremoniously from the saddle to land on his side on the ground. He quickly dismounted and zigzagged towards his friend as bullets kicked up the newly fallen snow. He made it to the spot where Larabee lay struggling to get to his feet. He heard Diablo and Dulcinea race away from the sounds of gunfire and swore at how fate could turn on them so easily.

"I got you, Brother," he hissed as he grabbed the blond and pulled him to his feet.

Chris gritted his teeth as the older man managed to get him to a standing position. He bit back a cry of pain, knowing they needed to get behind cover

Sanchez lifted Larabee's left arm over his shoulder and pulled him towards the shelter of trees opposite where the bullets were coming from. Just before he reached the safe haven his eyes lit on the strongbox lying open on the ground. He didn't have time to wonder how it fell from Diablo, but he did take note of the worthless pieces of paper blowing from the chest. He swore under his breath as he finally got the injured man behind the copse of trees. He lowered the lean form against a rock and turned back to the narrow clearing.

He knew Larabee was awake and he felt the younger man pull up beside him. He saw the Colt in the gunslingers hand and soon heard a shot. He smiled as a cry went up from across the opening. He scanned the area and saw a man moving towards the strongbox and sent a bullet into his body. "How bad?" he asked as he swung towards the next target.

"Don't kn...know," Larabee answered truthfully. Right now there was no pain, only a numbness on his right side spreading down to the tips of his fingers. He'd been shot more times than he cared to remember and he prayed the numbness would last until they took care of whoever was behind the attempted robbery.

Hampered by the wind and snow, both men knew they didn't stand much of a chance against the outlaw gang.