A Test of Faith

By: Winnie

Josiah rode slightly ahead of his friend as they entered the small camp. They called out a warning that they were coming in, but he heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. He raised his hand as he walked into the small circle of light. A man stood on the opposite side of the fire, each one had a gun cocked and pointed towards him. The camp itself must've been there for days, the smell of blood assaulted his nostrils as he looked at the carcass of a buffalo being dressed.

"Evening, Gentlemen. We were hoping to share your fire."

"Fire's small, ain't got 'nough food ta share wit' ya," a scraggly red haired man, with thick whiskers told him.

Sanchez could see there would be plenty of meat from the slaughtered animal. He knew something was wrong as he searched the area for the woman he heard cry out. This man was dangerous and a shiver of dread ran down his spine.

"Now, gentlemen, surely there's enough buffalo meat to share with a couple of hungry..." Before he could finish a gun was pointed at him.

"Yer one of them ministers who preach right an' wrong, aren't ya?"

"We are men of the cloth," Marshall answered. "We've come out west to bring the word of the Lord to anyone who's ready to listen."

"You mean anyone ya can force ta listen. Ain't gonna listen ta no gospel from yer mouth. Now jest shut yer yap an' git on outta 'ere 'fore I send ya ta meet yer God," the redhead snarled as he swung his gun from one mounted man to the other.

Marshall looked at the rough looking man and knew he was hiding something. He glanced sideways at his companion and knew by the set of Sanchez' shoulders he was ready for a fight. This was a wild part of the world and although they were traveling and preaching the word of God they had weapons with which to shoot game. He saw Sanchez reach his hand towards his saddlebags and did the same. The sound of the woman's cry echoed in his ears as his hand fell on the cold steel of the rifle he carried.

"Don't try it mister," the red-haired man warned as he levelled his gun on Marshall. "I'll cut ya outta that saddle 'fore yer able to clear that gun and then I'll put yer friend on the ground beside ya. Now turn them horses around and go back the way ya came. Ain't no place fer God or his preachers out 'ere."

"There's a place for God everywhere," Sanchez told him and went rigid at the sound of a woman's screams. "What's going on?"

"Ain't nothin' that concerns ya. Tol' ya ta ride on outta 'ere," the redhead repeated.

"We can't do that," Marshall warned. "Not until we're sure the woman is alright."

"Where is she?" Sanchez asked softly, his voice full of dread as the cry came again.

"None of yer damned business. Now git."

As if by unspoken agreement Sanchez and Marshall turned their mounts and headed out of the circle of light. Once outside the area they dismounted and made their way back to the camp on foot, keeping to the shadows and the trees as they did. By the time they reached the camp the man had settled down and had been joined by a second man. A young Indian woman sat beside the buffalo carcass. Her hands, hair and clothing were covered in blood and Josiah couldn't tell if it was hers or from the buffalo carcass. The light reflected off her dark eyes and he thought he saw fear shining in them. Somehow they had to get her away from these men before they killed her.

"We have to get her away from them," Marshall whispered.

"I know, but how?" Sanchez asked.

"We wait until they're asleep and then we go in and take her."

Sanchez nodded his agreement and settled down to wait. Neither man wanted to resort to violence and hoped to rescue the woman and leave before the two men even knew they were there. It was several hours later when the camp settled down for the night. Josiah didn't understand why the woman just sat beside the buffalo carcass, she didn't move, didn't speak, just sat there, alone and silent.

"Looks like now's as good a time as any, Josiah," Marshall whispered as he watched the quiet camp.

Sanchez nodded and they silently moved towards the woman. Josiah watched the camp as his friend moved to aid the woman.

Paulie moved to the woman and placed his hand over her mouth. He looked into her terrified eyes and placed a finger to his lips. "We're gonna get you out of here," Paulie whispered. "Understand?" At her slight nod he released his grip on her and stood up.

Josiah continued to watch the camp. He heard Paulie explaining to the young woman what they were doing and he smiled at the soft voice. A voice that could rival thunder when giving a sermon, now spoke with the same authority, but in a whisper only he could hear. He sent a silent prayer of thanks when they started moving out of the camp without waking the two men. They were at the edge of the circle of light when Josiah heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked. He turned to see the woman with a small gun in her hand. It was pointed at him and he now understood why she just sat by the carcass. The woman was with these men of her own choice. He now realized the cries he had heard were not cries of pain. He stared at the barrel of the gun, making peace with God as her hand pulled back on the trigger.

"Yea, though I walk..." his voice trailed off as he felt the instincts of the man next to him. he didn't have time to react as Marshall pushed him and a gunshot echoed through the once quiet night. He was shocked not to feel a piece of metal slam into his body, but didn't have time to reflect on the cause. He heard the men come to their feet and pulled the gun from the woman's hands. He prayed the gun was still loaded as he turned to the fire. He pointed the gun at the red-haired man and fired off a shot at the same time two shots were directed at him. A fleeting thought crossed his mind that this was not the way of God, but he turned the gun on the second shooter as the first one dropped to the ground. The shrill cry told him the man was dead even as he registered a blur rushing towards him. the flickering firelight reflected off a steel blade as it swept towards his arm. He cried out as the knife slashed into his left arm, leaving a dark furrow in his flesh. He heard a shot and felt the woman fall beside him. He dropped the gun and held his arm as he realized his friend wasn't with him. He caught sight of Paulie standing behind the woman and thanked God he was still alive. His prayer of thanks turned into a sharp cry as Paulie tumbled to the ground.

Josiah rushed forward and knelt beside his friend. In the light cast by the bright moon he could see the dark stain on the man's chest. He knew he should check to see if the others were dead, but his eyes were glued to the man before him. He lifted him into his arms, ignoring the cries of pain from his friend and moved into the light cast by the fire. He glanced quickly at the two men, one shot through the forehead, the other in the chest. He placed his friend on one of the bedrolls and tore his shirt open. He knew the bullet was still inside and it was up to him to remove it. He fought his rebelling stomach as he hurried to grab his saddlebags from his horse. He wasn't gone long and returned with both horses.

Once more he knelt beside his friend and opened the saddlebags. He saw the pain on his friends face as the eyes slid open. "Just lie still, Paulie."

"N...no, Josiah. I'm not gonna make it. Y...you have to do the last rites. P...please, I need to make my confession."

"No! I won't let you die," he said as a trickle of blood seeped from Paulie's mouth. He heard the gurgling breath and knew in his heart his friend was dying before him. He dropped the knife and lifted the trembling man into his arms. He began speaking the words that would soothe the dying soul before him. Tears trickled from his eyes as he held him. he finished giving the last rites to the only man who understood him and watched the wondrous light in his eyes extinguish forever.

"Why!" he screamed as thunder and lightening joined his cry of rage.

"He was a good man, Chris. He died in my arms with me cursing God for taking him in such a senseless act of violence. I buried him that day, said some words over him, but for me the love of the Lord's words was gone—shattered by the sound of gunfire and his dying breath. I spent a lot of years doing things that went against everything Paulie and I believed in and then one day I came to Four Corners and knew it was time for penance."

"Paulie sounds like he was a good friend."

"He was, Chris, the best."

"You're a good friend too, Josiah Sanchez," Larabee mumbled tiredly. He felt hands reach behind him and once more he was lifted forward. He drank the cold water the ex-preacher held and met the pain filled blue eyes. "T....thanks," he whispered, wanting to say more, but his energy was gone. He closed his eyes to the sound of Josiah's soothing voice telling him he wasn't gonna let God take him from them. He smiled and knew in his heart he wasn't ready to stop living. Mary Travis' face swam before his closed lids and he smiled. "N...not g...gonna die, J...Josiah," he vowed.

Sanchez smiled as his friend succumbed to sleep. Something about Larabee's vow to live soothed his own pain and he knew this would not end with another friend's death. This time the Lord was going to let a good man live and continue to protect the innocent. He walked to the door and looked up at the darkening sky. "Thank you," he whispered as tears once more shone in his eyes, only these were not of sorrow, these were being shed in gratitude and relief.

"What's wrong, Vin?" Buck asked as he saw the stiff set to the tracker's shoulders.

"There's two horses up ahead," Tanner answered, as he concentrated on the two animals. The moon lent just enough light for them to make out the outline and they moved forward cautiously. Marcus had told them Nelson was alone, but they were not about to trust him. Vin spurred Unalii forward and soon realized the animals were still saddled. He silently cursed the owners for leaving them so, but took the words back as he recognized Dulcinea and Diablo.

"Vin!" Wilmington called as he hurried after the younger man. The ground was covered in an inch of snow and Buck knew they needed to be cautious. 'Damn fool is gonna get himself killed,' he thought. He watched as the tracker dismounted and stood beside the horses. His eyes lit up as he recognized his friends' horses. He heard the other ride up behind him as he joined Tanner in checking out the animals.

Tanner stood beside Dulcinea, his hands running along the lengths of the sorrel's legs. "Check Diablo, Buck," he ordered.

"Any sign of Chris or Josiah?" Jackson asked.

Tanner had been searching the area while checking Josiah's horse. The only tracks in the snow belonged to the two horses. The moon cast everything in eerie shadows and the five peacekeepers wondered where their two missing men were. They'd travelled a long way during the day, stopping only long enough to eat and rest the horses. Now it was too dark to continue through the treacherous mountain pass. They needed to unsaddle the horses and rub them down.

"We'll camp here tonight and move out at first light," Tanner told them as he reached up and pulled the saddle from the large animal's back. He saw Wilmington doing the same with Diablo. He heard the others moving around and setting up camp. His worry for his friends mounted as he noted the tracks leading higher into the mountain pass and he knew Nelson was still out there. He prayed Josiah and Chris would be alright and could hold him off until they got there.

Once the camp was set up, Jackson checked Standish's shoulder. The wound had bled slightly and he cleaned it with whiskey, ignoring the wince this elicited from the gambler. Next he turned his attention towards the tracker. Despite Vin's protests he checked the wound, glad to see his fears had been for nothing. He finished by checking on JD and was relieved to find no new damage on him either. After the long day in the saddle five weary peacekeepers settled their prisoner to the ground and waited for sleep to come.

Hiram Nelson stood next to the small tracker's cabin. He was chilled to the bone, having ridden through the night in his haste for revenge. Finding the cabin was a stroke of luck and his own sense of smell. He nearly rode past it, but the smell of burning wood caught his senses and he followed the odor until his eyes made out the lighter shade against the backdrop of midnight sky. He rode towards the smoke and dismounted a short distance away from it. He checked his Colt and made sure it was loaded, a twisted smile formed on his face as he realized how close he was to killing Chris Larabee. He crouched low and hurried towards the cabin. The windows were shuttered to keep out the cold and he moved to the door. He stood beside the door and listened for sounds of movement. His hand reached for the handle as silence continued all around him.

The door opened and light spilled from the interior and onto the snow. A quick perusal of the cabin revealed two forms, one lying on a bed, the other sitting on the floor, his head leaning heavily against the wall behind him. Neither man moved in spite of the cold seeping into the room. Nelson slid inside and eased the door closed behind him. The sight of Chris Larabee brought a smile to his face. The man was whiter than the snow on the ground and a fine sheen of sweat glistened on his face.

He watched as the Sanchez moved slightly and the eyelids flickered. "Reckon I wouldn't move if I were you," he warned as the man's blue eyes opened.

Josiah couldn't remember falling asleep, yet he knew his body craved the rest. He'd been trying to cool the injured gunslinger, but the fever continued unabated. He drained the infection from the wound, but it continued to be a problem. He didn't have the things necessary to look after it properly, or to stitch it up. He cursed the loss of his saddlebags and the medical supplies Nathan Jackson insisted they carry.

He shook away the thoughts as a new sound came to him, a voice he vaguely recognized, yet knew brought danger with it. He threw off the last dregs of sleep and went to stand up.

"Told you not to move, Sanchez! Ya stay put or I put a bullet in Larabee right now."

Josiah met the hatred filled eyes and knew he was facing Hiram Nelson. He saw the gun aimed at Larabee and knew he had to do something before Nelson killed him. His eyes moved to the table where his gun sat and he calculated the odds of his being able to get it before Nelson shot Larabee.

"I wouldn't, Sanchez. You may be fast, but a bullet's faster. Now get on your hands and knees and move over to the corner by the fire. I got a score to settle with Larabee and I aim to finish it now."

"No!" Sanchez hissed as he moved to cover Larabee with his own body.

"I said get away from him!"

Chris heard the raised voices, but it took a while for him to recognize them. He knew Josiah Sanchez was in a verbal battle with a voice Chris didn't recognize. The heated argument seemed to get louder as he heard movement beside the bed. He used every ounce of stubbornness he possessed to force his eyes open. Two blurred images moved into his line of vision. He knew the man closest to him was Josiah, the other one was still only a blur. He didn't move for fear the man would shoot Sanchez. He waited, his eyes open to half-mast, and his body rigid as the unknown man came closer to the bed.

"I told you to get away from him!" Nelson warned as he stood over Sanchez, who was now on his knees.

Chris watched as the newcomer raised his gun and knew he had to do something. He waited until the outlaw stood next to him and pushed his body upwards. He shoved with what little strength he had and cried out as pain ripped through his chest. He didn't hear Sanchez swear or Nelson's grunt as he landed on his knees. All he knew was a fire was burning inside his chest and he had no way to douse it. He fought to stay conscious, wanting and needing to know Sanchez was okay. He'd wakened several times through the long night to find the older man slumped against the wall. He knew by the deep lines and dark circles under his eyes that the ex-preacher was exhausted. He ignored his body's need for water or anything that would help slake his thirst and let Sanchez sleep. Now it seemed that was a mistake as he heard the two men battling beside him.

Josiah heard Chris cry out at the same instant Nelson stumbled away from the bed. He shoved his right foot out and smiled as the outlaw cried out and hit the floor heavily. Josiah's anger overwhelmed his exhaustion and he flew at the man as Nelson scrambled to his knees. The two men fought, trading blows, as the circled each other. Josiah pushed his worry for Chris Larabee to the back of his mind as he fought for both their lives. He delivered a devastating right fist, connecting solidly with Nelson's left cheek and rocking his head back.

Nelson sensed the strength from the other man and knew it was fed by anger. He knew he needed to be patient in order to defeat Sanchez. The fist that caught him on the cheek had nearly put him down for good. He felt blood trickle from a cut on his cheek and knew he needed to get the upper hand before Sanchez killed him. He struck out and drove a fist into the other man's stomach, smiling at the expulsion of air, but it didn't last long as the larger man struck him with an uppercut to the chin. His teeth clamped down on his cheek and he felt blood ooze from his mouth.

Chris watched the fight between the two men. His blurred vision made it impossible for him to see who had the upper hand. The two bodies continued to fight and he heard one of them cry out as he slammed into the edge of the small table.

Sanchez delivered another blow to Nelson's face, sending him into the table. Nelson cried out as the sharp edge of the table caught his back. He shouted in feral rage as he dove at Sanchez, all thoughts of laying back and being patient disappearing in his anger.

Sanchez looked at the man's face and easily sidestepped the attack. Too late he realized the man's momentum would bring him to the bed where Chris Larabee lay. "No!" he cried as the man tripped and fell over the injured man. He thought he heard Larabee cry out weakly, but didn't have time to check as Nelson pushed off the bed and turned to face Sanchez again.

Nelson moved towards his foe once more and reeled when the man's fist drove him to the ground. His eyes caught sight of his weapon and his fingers encircled the handle.

Sanchez moved quickly and grabbed his gun from the table as Nelson brought his up.

Chris fought to stay conscious, unable to tear his eyes from he blurred shapes. Two shots sounded close together and he tried to focus on each figure. His eyes refused to cooperate and he let his head sink back to the pillows. He waited to see who would come to the bed, knowing he couldn't move anyway. His body was numb now and he was thankful for the lack of pain. A hand on his shoulder told him Josiah Sanchez was the victor. He forced heavy lids to open and smiled weakly at the familiar shape.

"Nelson's dead, Chris," Sanchez told him.

Larabee nodded and found the strength to speak. "A...are you o...okay?"

"Yeah, nothing a little of Nathan's salve won't clean up. I need to check your wound," he said, pulling the chair close to the bed once more. Larabee nodded and watched as steady hands removed the bandage from his chest. The wound had bled again because of Larabee's own movements and Nelson's falling on him. Josiah quickly cleaned it and replaced the bandage. He saw the lines of pain sweeping across his friend's face and wished he had something to give him. The Willow Bark tea just wasn't enough.

"T...thanks, Josiah," Larabee said as a cool cloth was once more placed on his forehead.

"For what? Nearly getting you killed again?" Sanchez couldn't help the bitterness as he looked at his friend. He counted his succumbing to sleep as failure to protect his friend.

"Josiah, you c...couldn't have known he was here. Nelson was a...after me, not you. If anyone's to blame it's me."

"No it's not, Chris. That man was ready to kill you where you were. If I hadn't fallen asleep he wouldn't have got the drop on us."

"Josiah, you're human. Y...you've been t...taking care of me and haven't had a...any rest. Not y...your fault," Larabee grimaced as he shifted on the bed. "Nelson's dead...you sleep."

Josiah watched the green eyes close and sat back. He felt bruised from head to toe and his head throbbed. He looked at the dead man and knew he needed to take care of the body. He stood up and leaned heavily on the table, waiting for the room to stop spinning. He moved towards the body and slid his hands under Nelson's arms. Normally this would be easy for him, but the abuse his body had taken had weakened his reserves considerably. He lost track of time as he dragged the body out into the snow. There was no way he could give him a decent burial as his own body cried out for rest. He dropped Nelson beside the tree line and went back to the cabin. He checked Chris once more and assured himself he was alive, changed the cloth on his forehead and moved to heat more water for tea. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he grasped the edge of the table as he slid to the floor. Outside the cabin the lone call of a wolf sounded once more, but the two men inside were oblivious to its call.

Vin led the others through the melting snow. It was slow going in places as the slippery terrain made it hard to keep the horses steady. The drifts were heavy in spots, but the temperature had risen to a more seasonal temperature and the freak storm of a few nights ago was slowly melting away. It was late in the evening and no one wanted to voice the fact that they might have to spend another night without finding their friends.

Buck watched the tracker as he dismounted and checked the tracks and other signs. He didn't ask questions, none of them needed to. Vin Tanner was the best tracker around and if anyone could find Larabee and Sanchez it was this man. He watched as the silent tracker remounted and started forward again. He had no idea how long they rode before Tanner pulled to a stop in front of a single large rock. A small footpath led into the trees and Tanner seemed to be concentrating on something he saw there.

"Vin?" Jackson called.

The tracker was quiet for a few minutes, but soon stood up and stretched his back. He turned to face the others and pointed through the trees. "Two people on foot went through here a while back..."

"Chris and Josiah?" Wilmington asked.

"Could be. Also got a horse going through recently."

"Nelson!" Dunne exclaimed.

"Yeah. The tracks match the ones we've been following," Vin remounted and led them through the trees until they spotted a small clearing with a cabin placed up against the tree line.

A soft whinny from the left met them and JD turned towards the lone horse standing in the trees. "I'll check it out."

"Just be careful, Kid," Wilmington warned as he followed the others towards the cabin.

Tanner kept looked towards the tiny roof, worried there was no sign of smoke from the chimney. He heard the other dismount and followed suit. "Buck, check around back. Ezra, watch Marcus. Nathan, you're with me," he ordered, knowing the others would do as he asked without question. He stepped up to the door and placed his hand on the handle. It moved easily and he looked up to see Jackson nod. He pushed down on the handle and eased the door open. His eyes darted around the room, instantly picking out the two men and the signs of a struggle. He checked behind the door before moving into the cabin. He moved to Larabee as Jackson knelt beside Sanchez.

Jackson turned his friend onto his back and gently checked his neck. The skin was cool to the touch and he glanced towards the fireplace. His first priority was to get the two men warm and then treat the injuries. He looked towards the bed and saw Tanner lean in over Chris Larabee.

"How is he, Vin?"

"He's hot, Nathan. Looks like he's been shot in the chest. How's Josiah?" "Looks like he went a few rounds with that boxer came in with the fair last year. He's got some bruises and cuts, but I don't think it's anything too serious. See if you can't get the fire going and get some warmth in here."

Wilmington came through the door, followed closely by Marcus and Standish. The two peacekeepers couldn't pull their eyes away from the two unconscious men.

"Nathan, are they —?" Wilmington asked.

"They're alive. Ezra, put him in that corner and go grab the bedrolls. Tell JD to bring in my saddlebags. Vin, get that fire going. Buck, gather whatever pots you can find and start melting snow." He stood away from Josiah and moved to the bed. His eyes quickly assessed the damage and he removed the bandage from Larabee's chest. The wound was ragged and rimmed in red. Dark bruising encircled the area and he could see someone had used a knife on it. He turned towards Sanchez and knew this man was responsible for Chris Larabee being alive.

"Here ya go, Nate!" JD exclaimed as he came into the one room cabin. He stopped as he saw the two older men, both unmoving, both so silent. He felt the bags being removed from his hands. "Nathan are they o...okay?"

"Josiah should be fine once we clean him up. Got some work to do on Chris."

A low moan from the floor had Vin kneeling beside the ex-preacher as the older man tried to sit up. "Easy, Josiah, everything's okay."

Sanchez heard the voice, but his confused mind wouldn't let him see who it was. He struggled upwards, thinking Nelson was back as he shoved the smaller man. "Chris!" he shouted as he struggled to his feet. He saw someone leaning over his friend and a savage rage tore through him as he realized he'd failed to protect his friend once more. He tried to reach the two men, but two sets of hands wrapped around his arms and he was held fast. He fought with all his strength, but he felt his body's betrayal as the hands held him tight.

"Josiah, calm down!" Jackson ordered as he moved from the bed to his friend. "It's me, Nathan. That's Buck and Vin holding ya." He watched as some of the fight seemed to leave Sanchez. "Now settle down and they'll let ya go." He touched his friends arm and felt the cold in his limbs. He waited for the blue eyes to clear and spoke softly. "Now I gotta see ta Chris and then I'll take a look at you. Buck, get that water boiling. We need ta get some tea going and warm him up."

Josiah stared at the man standing before him, unsure if he was real or an apparition brought on by exhaustion. "Nathan?"

Jackson smiled at the older man and nodded his head. "Yeah, it's me Josiah. We're all here."

Sanchez sagged in relief and looked towards the door as Standish came inside. His eyes fell on the form huddled in the corner and he pulled free of the arms holding him. "You lousy no good..." he snarled as he reached for the bound man. He had him on his feet and lashed out with his fist before anyone could react.

Standish reached for the hand as it came back to hit the outlaw again. "Don't, Josiah, he's not worth it," he said softly and watched the big shoulders sag.

The rage left him instantly as he heard the soft southern accent and he shoved the man into the corner. "If he dies it won't matter what anyone says!" he warned the terrified man in the corner.

"I... I..."

"You, my friend, would be well advised not say another word!" Standish warned, his words dripping sarcasm as he watched Sanchez move to the bed.

Buck and Vin breathed a sigh of relief as the ex-preacher released his death grip on Harvey Marcus. They watched as Sanchez staggered over and sat heavily in the chair beside the bed. He didn't say a word as Jackson began working on the unconscious man.

"Josiah?" Jackson called and waited for the blue eyes to meet his. "The bullet?"

"I got it out, Nathan. I had to cut into him to get it, but I did it," he mumbled. "Had to tie him down though so he couldn't move on me." They all heard the sorrow in Sanchez' voice as he spoke.

"You were alone, Josiah," Jackson reassured him. "You had no choice. If you hadn't tied him down Chris would've died. Ain't no way he could've stayed still while you cut into him." He patted the older man on the shoulder. "You saved his life, Josiah. Now I'm gonna make sure he stays that way. Do you think you can help me?"

Sanchez nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

Buck led the others out of the cabin as Jackson and Sanchez worked on Larabee. They stood outside as the sun beat down on the melting snow.

"What's wrong, Buck?" Tanner asked.

"Found a body out back by the trees."

"Nelson?" Dunne asked.

"I think so. Looks like he was shot and then dragged over to the trees. Think maybe we should bury him. A couple of animals have already been around him."

"All right. JD, see if you can find something to dig a hole. The ground should be fairly soft with the snow melting into it. Ezra, you should go back inside and..."

"I assure you I'm not suffering from this malady," Standish said.

"I can see that, Ez, but someone needs ta keep watch Marcus. Nate's busy with Chris and Josiah," Tanner explained.

"Very well, Mr. Tanner," Standish agreed and went back inside.

Chris heard voices talking in soft tones and tried to fight the lethargy in his body. His mouth was dry and he was thirsty. He tried to call to the voices, but couldn't find the moisture to speak. His eyes opened and it took a few minutes to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He moved his head and moaned as fireworks went off in his head.

Vin looked up from the table as a small sound came from the man on the bed. Three days had come and gone since they found their missing friends. Larabee had struggled through fever-induced nightmares, consolable only by Sanchez's softly spoken words. He moved to the bed and watched as the green eyes focused on him. He looked towards the corner of the room where Jackson had finally fallen asleep. Sanchez was also wrapped in a bedroll, while Ezra, Buck and JD sat at the small table. Harvey Marcus was huddled in the corner.

"Chris?"

Larabee looked into the blue eyes and tried to speak. The dryness in his throat caused it to come out as a strained cough and he held his left arm to his chest. He couldn't understand why his right arm wouldn't move.

Tanner accepted a cup from Wilmington and the two men lifted Larabee forward. They waited until his thirst was slaked and sat beside him.

Chris smiled at the two men and looked around the room. He was pleased and relieved to see his friends, but his eyes landed on the ex-preacher. "Josiah, o...okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's fine. He's just tired. How do you feel, Stud?" Buck asked.

"I'm okay. How'd you g...guys find us?"

"Nelson's men headed for Four Corners after they tangled with you and Josiah. We met them just before we entered the pass."

Larabee's eyes widened with worry and he shifted upwards on the bed. "Everyone okay?"

"Yeah, Ezra got grazed, but he's gonna be fine," Tanner explained.

"How long?"

"We've been here for three days," Wilmington said and moved out of the way as Nathan joined them.

"How are you feeling, Chris?" Jackson asked as he sat in the chair vacated by the ladies man.

"Tired," Larabee answered as the healer placed his hand on his forehead.

"I expect you'll feel that way for a while. Ya lost a lot of blood, Chris, and the bullet broke your collarbone. Seems like the fever's nearly gone though. Vin, bring me some of that broth Josiah made." He felt the tracker ease away from the bed as he checked the wound in Larabee's shoulder. He'd immobilized the arm and stitched the wound in his chest. He wasn't concerned about infection any more, but now they needed to build up the injured man's strength.

"Here, Nate," Tanner passed him the cup and watched as he fed it to Larabee.

Chris drank the broth and found he lacked the strength to keep his eyes open. He looked towards the ex-preacher and sighed. They would both be okay now that help had arrived. For the first time since the snowstorm, Chris Larabee felt warm as the blankets were pulled up over him. He drifted towards sleep, knowing they'd be there when he woke up.

Chris sat on the landing outside Jackson's clinic. A week had passed since they'd come back to town and he was finally moving around. Harvey Marcus was in the jail awaiting Judge Travis' arrival. The Army had sent a letter to him and Josiah apologizing for duping them. Chris had sat back and listened as the excuses were made. How there was no choice in the matter. That the money was needed to pay the men and buy supplies. It also stated how Larabee's and Sanchez' sacrifices were appreciated and how the Army was pleased the two men survived the ordeal in the mountains. He'd been angry at first, but knew there was nothing he could do to change what happened. They were both alive and for that he would be thankful.

He smiled as Mary Travis looked up at him; this was another reason to be thankful. He remembered her helping Jackson tend his injuries and her tears when she thought he wasn't awake to see them. He remembered her soft touch on his cheek as she checked for fever or fed him the broth. He watched her deliver her newspapers and knew she'd visit with him later in the afternoon.

Vin and JD rode by on their way out of town on patrol. Buck walked across the street and tipped his hat to Gloria Potter. Ezra would still be in bed having not turned in until the early hours of the morning. Nathan sat outside the saloon, drinking a hot cup of coffee. Chris looked at the cup sitting on the railing. It was the first cup of coffee Jackson allowed him since they returned and he was savoring every drop. He smiled as he spotted Josiah coming towards him a piece of paper in his hands.

Josiah hurried up the stairs, intent on sharing the good news he received by telegram. "Good morning, Chris," he said in his rich baritone voice.

"That it is, Josiah. What's going on?" He tried to stand, but winced as the effort reawakened the annoying pain in his chest. He hated not being able to move his right arm, yet knew there was little choice.

"I got a telegram from Sheriff Mercer."

"Is everything okay?"

"According to the message it couldn't be better. It seems the Sheriff finally got smart and asked Betty Tucker to be his wife. They were married Sunday past."

Larabee smiled as he remembered the way the two people seemed to dance around each other. "That is great news, Josiah." He smiled at he thought of Joey Tucker and how the boy now had a good man to look up too. A boy deserved a good father and he was sure Eli Mercer would be that. "I saw you getting the Yosemite's wagon ready. You going back to the cabin?"

"Yeah. I figured I'd replace what we used."

"Are you going alone?" Larabee asked. He knew Sanchez would be fine on his own, but he wished he was going with him.

"I was, but..."

"But?" Larabee's eyebrows narrowed in surprise as he spotted the gambler leading Loki from the livery.

"But Ezra offered to go with me."

Larabee couldn't help but smile. No matter how many times he thought he knew these men, one of them always managed to put something over on him. "You boys be careful," he warned.

"We will, Chris. You mind what Nathan says."

"I don't seem to have much choice in the matter. Between Nathan and Mary it's like I've got a bell tied around my neck," he laughed.

"I bet it is. We'll be back in a week, Chris," he said.

Larabee nodded and green eyes met blue eyes once more. "Thanks, Josiah," the blond said.

Sanchez knew what the man was saying and nodded. "Thank you, Chris."

Larabee watched the retreating form and understood what was meant. Josiah trusted him and had opened his past to him, knowing that Chris would not betray that trust. Chris smiled as life returned to normal in Four Corners. 'As normal as it can,' he thought as two drunks fell through the swinging doors of the saloon. He smiled as Sanchez, Standish and Jackson easily handled the situation. He reached for the cheroot hidden inside the blanket wrapped around him and smiled as he brought it to his lips. This was home, the home of seven men, so different, yet they'd formed a bond that went beyond friendship. 'Family,' he thought as the wagon passed below him. He followed the retreating form until they reached the edge of town and frowned as his eyes made out an approaching figure on horseback.

There was something familiar in the way the man sat a horse, his body held stiff and rigid as if expecting trouble. Chris could almost feel the strength in the set of the shoulders. The man's head shifted constantly as if searching for something. The hat he wore was pulled low over his face and Chris couldn't see much of his features. He ignored the pain in his chest and walked to the stairs. He slowly made his way down to the street, ignoring Nathan's warning that he take it easy. At the bottom of the steps he once again halted and watched the approaching horse and rider.

'It can't be,' he thought as he moved out into the street, a smile forming on his still pale face.

Baker Campbell searched the streets for any sign of danger. In his line of business it was important he know who was in town and where they were. He knew little about this town except that one of the men he sought was supposedly living here. He rode straight down the center of Four Corners, his fast moving eyes coming to rest on a man walking into the center of the street. 'Larabee,' he thought with a smile. He continued forward until there was no choice but to halt in front of the blond figure.

"Son of a bitch!" he hissed and dismounted. "Chris Larabee, how the hell are you?"

"Hello, Baker," Larabee greeted. Baker Campbell was a man he'd known from his time at West Point. A friend who'd seen him through his first year there and helped him when another man wanted him to fight him. Larabee could've easily taken the man if he'd been alone, but he had four friends with him for moral as well as physical support. Campbell witnessed the whole confrontation and stepped in to help the newcomer. The other man and his companions backed down and Chris and Baker became fast friends. Chris returned the favor many times over the coming months until Campbell was given his orders and they parted ways. Time and circumstances made it hard to keep in touch and Campbell and Larabee lost track of each other.

"Hell, Chris, I'd ask you how you're doing, but I can see for myself you still don't know how to stay out of trouble. What happened?"

Larabee looked into the deep set blue gray eyes. The black hair was longer than he remembered and their were more lines on the face. At six foot four, Campbell's body was heavily muscled and lean. "Long story," he finally answered.

"I got time. Why don't we go to the saloon and I'll let you buy me a drink for old times sake. You can tell me what you've been up to since West Point."

Larabee laughed and nodded his head. "I'll buy you the first one, but I remember you still owe me two or three."

Campbell looked serious for a moment and turned sideways to meet Larabee's eyes. "I owe you more than that, Chris," he said.

"I thought we agreed we were even on that count?"

"You agreed. I didn't have much choice once I got my orders. Come on, let's get that drink." Larabee nodded and the two men headed towards the saloon. Chris nodded to Jackson as he came out of the jailhouse, knowing it wouldn't be long before the healer would join them in the saloon. He looked forward to introducing the six peacekeepers to Baker Campbell.

They talked throughout the day, reliving old memories and bringing up names they'd never thought to hear again. Campbell was shocked to hear about Larabee's marriage and their subsequent loss. Chris refused to go into details and the other man didn't force the issue. Wilmington, Jackson and eventually JD and Vin in from patrol joined them throughout the day.

Nathan watched his patient and finally called a halt to the talk of old times. "Alright, Chris, it's time you got some rest."

"Hell, Nathan, I'm fine."

"Still stubborn, Chris?" Campbell asked and smiled at the sheepish look he got in return. "Ya never did listen well to doctor's orders. I'll be around for a while so there's lots of time to catch up. I'm gonna check in at the hotel and get some sleep myself."

Larabee knew he'd overdone things, but he felt good. He stood up and said goodnight to the others.

"Chris, I need to check the bandages and then you can go sleep in your own room. I'm tired of sleeping on the cot," Jackson told him.

The gunslinger smiled and headed for the clinic. He walked across the street feeling more at ease than he had for a long time. He climbed the stairs to the clinic and sat in the chair on the landing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cheroot, lit it and sat back, enjoying the little freedom he had.

"That better not be smoke I smell, Chris! I told ya I don't want ya smokin' those things just yet!"

Larabee smiled as Jackson's voice reached his ears. He shook his head and put the cheroot out, knowing the healer would give him hell for it later. For now he settled back in the chair and closed his eyes. He listened to the sounds around him and felt himself drifting towards sleep. He was home, everyone was safe, and he was healing amongst friends.

THE END