Small Packages

By: TJ

Josiah Sanchez left the restaurant and headed back towards his room at the church. As he walked, the preacher tipped his hat to the people he past on the street. Looking at their familiar faces, he couldn't help but smile. He considered how this town and its inhabitants had grown and changed in the last few years. The populace had certainly endured their fair share of trials and tribulations, and no one could deny that some unusual incidents had occurred in their frontier town. Normal everyday events just seemed to manifest themselves without warning, and life could never be described as 'boring', if you lived here.

Or anywhere close to Four Corners for that matter.

The arrival of the peacekeepers, four years ago, was a revelation in itself. Yet since their appearance, The Seven had protected this community through the worst of some very bad times. The townsfolk and those seven men were all stronger because of the adversity they had faced together. They were all closer too. This was an undeniable fact... whether anyone cared to admit it or not.

Sanchez stopped at the edge of the boardwalk and took a good, long look up and down the street. He was confident that the regulators could deal with just about anything that came their way. Silently the preacher wondered if there wasn't anything this entire community couldn't handle, when it worked together.

Sauntering along the walk, JD noticed Sanchez gazing about town. The kid frowned as he approached his fellow peacekeeper. He could tell the preacher was lost in thought and Dunne hesitated a moment before addressing his friend. "Mornin' Josiah," he greeted the much larger man.

Sanchez turned and smiled at the younger lawman. "And a fine good morning to you, brother."

John Dunne never failed to amaze and confound the preacher. He was still a boy at heart, but when he needed to be, he could be just as much of a man as the rest of them. Grinning at JD, Sanchez decided that his other business would keep for just a little while longer. He stepped towards their office door, opened it and waved the kid on in.

The preacher didn't mind stopping to chat for a few minutes. Being asked by the town council to conduct Sunday Service was an honor that he didn't take lightly though. Especially since the request had come from the citizens themselves. Yet the finishing touches to his sermon could wait. The friendship these men shared, no matter how indefinable it may be, was the one thing that kept them alive. Making time for his friends was something Sanchez would do any time he felt the need. It wasn't everyday that you put your complete trust and faith in another man... let alone six of them.

"And how was Miss Annie's breakfast today, Josiah?" Wilmington asked from behind the desk.

The big man closed the door and moved towards the empty chair. Holding his belly briefly, Sanchez smiled that familiar broad, toothy smile. "Well... I still say her Saturday mornin' fixin's may be the best eats around these here parts." The preacher smiled one more time before seating himself across from Buck. "And I reckon I've had enough of 'em ta know what I'm talkin' about."

The ladies man shook his head and laughed at the statement... it was nothing, if not true. If the seven were in town on a Saturday, it would be a safe bet that you could find Josiah at the restaurant in the morning. Even Ezra wouldn't take an opposing wager on that subject.

Wilmington thought that perhaps Sanchez was sweet the restaurant's part-time cook. Nathan said it was nothing but the man's stomach, knowing when it was happy. And the widow Henderson surely knew how to cook. This was a truth that no one would debate. Of course it didn't really seem to matter what the reason was. If the preacher needed to be found on a Saturday morning, everyone knew where to look.

"Things quiet over night?" Sanchez questioned curiously.

Buck smiled at his two companions. "As quiet as can be," he responded in his usual, casual manner.

Dunne stood by the stove warming his hands. "Sure is chilly out there this mornin'," he commented. "How come the weather changes so much around here anyways? Bet it'll be plenty warm this afternoon."

Looking over at Dunne, Sanchez smiled. "Mother Nature is just havin' a little fun with us is all, JD," he replied. "And there just ain't no way to argue that point, my friend. She wins every time."

"Yeah," the ladies man added as he got to his feet, "and you ain't the one who's got 'a deliver that package to Sierra Flats today."

The kid nodded his head in agreement as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "When they leavin'?" he asked, looking back at his companions.

"Vin was here a while ago," Wilmington chuckled. "Complaining that Ezra was still curled up in his feather bed... Reckon he'll be all packed and ready ta go as soon as that man shows his face."

"And if it ain't soon enough," the preacher continued, "I'm sure Vin 'll figure out some... interestin' way of rousin' 'im."

JD laughed behind his coffee cup and Wilmington smirked to himself as he walked to the door. As much of a close-knit group as the seven were, their individual little quirks still amused them all to no end. And Standish and Tanner were too much alike sometimes for their own good. Why Chris insisted on pairing them up for the occasional assignment was beyond anyone's understanding. But then again, no one ever said Larabee was logical in anything he did.

"I'm gonna take some down time," Wilmington said wearily, as he opened the door. "Try not to disturb my beauty sleep, boys," he quipped, before leaving. The door closed tightly behind him.

Dunne smirked at the ladies man before turning his attention back to their previous conversation. "You think Ezra will ever stop annoying Vin, Josiah?"

The preacher looked intently at the young man as the kid took up Buck's empty chair. He sensed the amusement in the question, but wondered if Dunne really understood the relationship the two other men shared. "All kiddin' aside, JD," Sanchez began, as he got up to get himself a cup of coffee too, "You do understand that Vin and Ezra are two of a kind... don't ya?"

The puzzled look on the young man's face gave the preacher all the answer he needed. Shaking his head, Josiah sat back down and settled in to see if he could give the kid a little more insight into the complex relationships that held them all together. Not that any of them professed to understand any of it completely, mind you. Sanchez just seemed to comprehend the intricacies a little better than the rest of the men.

"Mornin', Vin."

Tanner turned his head at the voice and smiled as Nathan offered him a cup of coffee. Checking his saddlebags one more time, he turned around and retrieved the cup. Silently thanking the healer as he did so. The tracker took a long drink of the liquid, and smiled at the heat radiating from the metal.

Observing the tracker's 'hand warming' action, Nathan smiled. "Spring and Fall around these parts sure are a wonder. Cold overnight and plenty warm by noon," he commented matter-of-factly.

"That, Mr. Jackson, is an understatement, if ever I heard one," Standish responded, as he made his way into the stables and looked at his horse. "I see you are as impatient as ever, Mr. Tanner." Loki's readiness was something else that hadn't gone unnoticed. "But thank you for your efforts, of course."

"Figured I had ta do somethin' with ma time...seein' as how I bin waitin' all day."

Nathan snickered at the remark and drew a stern look from the gambler. Raising his eyebrows at the expressive rebuttal, the healer cocked his head. "Vin ain't known fer ... stretchin' the truth, Ezra. That feather bed 'a yours is gonna get ya in ta trouble one of these days."

Double-checking Loki's saddle and gear, the gambler tried to hide his reaction. "I do believe your prediction is tardy, Mr. Jackson," the southerner replied. "However... in the interest of our mutual collaboration, I could perhaps, attempt to pay closer attention to my timetable."

"I won't hold ma breath!" Tanner whispered to himself.

Standish looked intently at the tracker before lowering his chin. Grinning at his uncanny ability to exasperate the sharpshooter, usually without even trying, Ezra looked back at his friend. "Of course, if my intentions do not meet with your expectations, Mr. Tanner," he quipped, "then I shall not waste my efforts in the attempt."

Snickering again at the banter between his fellow peacekeepers, Jackson pulled the straps from his shoulder and offered each man a small bundle. "Miss Inez sent along some biscuits for the trip. Should keep warm a little while."

"Thank 'er for us," Tanner acknowledged. He handed the empty cup back to Jackson, retrieved his care package and put it in his saddlebag.

"Yes," Standish agreed, as he collected his bundle and stowed it. "That young lady has an exceptional ability to recognize the needs of others." Noticing Vin mount up, the gambler turned to Nathan and smiled. "You will pass along our gratitude, Mr. Jackson. It seems that I will not have the time to undertake the pleasantry myself."

The healer smirked and nodded his head in reply, as he watched Standish mount up too. "You boys have a good trip now. See ya some time this evening."

Tanner tipped his hat before moving Unalii out of the stable. Ezra adjusted his coat before smiling at Nathan. He raised an eyebrow, showing his displeasure, before following his travelling companion out of the livery.

"Should be an interestin' trip," Jackson muttered to himself, as he watched the two men leave.

"Good morning, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah poked his head around the doorframe and smiled warmly.

Nettie Wells generally had that affect on most people who knew her.

Getting up from his chair he moved out of his room and into the church. "And a fine good mornin' to you, Mrs. Wells," he responded, as they met up half way along the aisle. "Is there somethin' I can help you with?"

"You haven't forgotten our conversation ... have you?"

Josiah thought for a moment. Things in town had been reasonably quiet of late. Folks seemed to be going about their everyday business and most everyone had dropped back into their regular routines. Why was it that, that Nettie would be paying him a visit? ... As he realized why the spunky old lady was there, the preacher smiled a softer version of his big, toothy grin. "Why no ma'am, I haven't."

A momentary lapse in memory surely didn't count as a full-blown lie.

"Wasn't expectin' ya taday though. The room's back this way," he motioned back the way he had just come.

Nettie started to walk towards Josiah's small room.

"I've cleaned it out some. You got a clear path to the window anyways."

"It's a nice idea, Mr. Sanchez," the older lady spoke as they traveled through one room and came to a stop at the closed door. "Havin' a room where folks can stay if they're in need, and haven't got a penny to their name."

Opening the door, the preacher ventured inside the room. "Yes ma'am," he agreed. "Thought I could provide a small sanctuary for those in the greatest of distress."

"Small..." Mrs. Wells agreed with the man's unconscious description of what had once been a storage room, "but we'll make it comfortable, Mr. Sanchez." She moved to a window and took out her cloth measuring tape. Motioning for the tall man to reach the top of the window for her, she handed him the end of the tape as he responded.

"Did you have some material in mind for the curtains, Mrs. Wells?"

Nettie didn't answer as she took a paper and pencil from her pocket and wrote down the measurements. She moved her end of the tape to measure the width of the opening, and the preacher followed suit.

"Mrs. Henderson has offered to donate a couple of old quilts she no longer has use of." Josiah smiled at the thought. "Said she's cleaned 'em and everythin'."

Mrs. Wells looked up from her figuring and stared at the windows. Smiling she looked at the preacher from the corner of her eye. Annie Henderson had spoken to her a couple of times about the needs and generosity of certain people about town. Now Nettie was starting to see where her friend's conversation had been going.

"Well, that's mighty nice of Annie," the older lady responded, trying to hide her amusement. "I'll have ta wander over there and see what these quilts looks like." Looking at the window on the opposite wall, Nettie smiled. "Looks to me like that one is about the same size."

"Exactly the same size," Josiah agreed. He'd studied the configuration of his church on many occasions. This room occupied the eastern end of the church and the two windows on either side of the corner were identical in every way.

"Alright then," Mrs. Wells concluded. She replaced the paper and pencil in her pocket and started to re-roll the measuring tape. "I'll see what patterns Gloria's got in stock..." she spoke as she headed back to the church, "and compare those to the print on the quilts... I think we'll come up with something adequate, Mr. Sanchez."

"Of that I have no doubt, Mrs. Wells," the preacher affirmed as he followed the lady into his church. "When you put your mind ta somethin'," he cocked his head and smiled, "you always accomplish yer tasks."

"Why thank you, Mr. Sanchez." Nettie returned the preacher's smile, tucked the tape into her pocket, and opened the door. "Good day, Mr. Sanchez," she called back as she left.

"And a pleasant good day to you, Mrs. Wells," Josiah replied as she closed the door behind her. The big man pressed his lips together and smiled one more time before turning to go back to his room. Tomorrow's sermon still needed his attention, but any excuse for a visit from such a wonderful woman, such as Nettie Wells. He nodded his head. Brighten any man's day he thought to himself happily as he sat back down at his desk and took up his pen once again.

"Good morning, Mr. Larabee," Nettie called out as she spotted the gunslinger dismounting outside the livery.

Chris turned around at the sound of his name and smiled as the woman approached. "Mornin', Mrs. Wells. You're gettin' an early start to the day," he commented as he handed off Diablo to Yosemite.

"Sun's been up a long time, Mr. Larabee," she smiled at the man, as they began to walk up the street. "You spend the night out at your place again?"

Chris nodded his head.

"You're as bad as Mr. Tanner..." Nettie commented as she thought about the perplexing tracker. "I swear that boy spends more time out 'a town than in."

Laughing at the comment, the gunslinger nodded his head in agreement. "I think you're probably right about Tanner, Mrs. Wells. But I ain't so sure you can say the same thing about me."

"Oh?" There was a definite question to Nettie's response.

Chris stopped outside the jail and turned to look at the feisty widow. Confronted with her questioning eyes, he lowered his head and nodded. Raising an eyebrow as he looked back at her, he smiled again.

"Well, I just need a little time..." the gunslinger shifted his position, "and space... ta do a little thinkin' now and then."

Mrs. Wells averted her eyes for a brief second before refocusing on the handsome blond. "And this is ... different ...how, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris looked at the woman carefully and considered his options. He could try and argue her logic, even though he knew he would surely lose... or he could just agree with her now and save them both some time. "Well, maybe we ain't too different," he conceded, "... in some ways," he quickly added. Choosing some middle ground would at least allow them both a point to ponder further.

Understanding the calculated approach the gunslinger was taking to their conversation, Nettie nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, Mr. Larabee," she answered as she prepared to head back down the street, "I dare say there are a few of you boys who are more alike than you care to admit." She looked the gunslinger in the eye and smiled before turning back towards Potter's store.

As Larabee watched the widow go he furrowed his brow. What'd she mean by that? He wondered to himself, as he took hold of the doorknob. Glancing back at the widow one more time, he smiled, shook his head and went inside.

"It's such a small package, Mr. Tanner, " Standish observed to his traveling companion. "What's in it anyway?"

"Some sort 'a legal papers is all I know," Tanner replied as they rode along, side by side. "You know the judge don't let on... 'less it's importan'."

Raising an eyebrow at the statement, the southerner nodded his head in agreement. Judge Travis kept all confidences that were expected of him. Only on occasion did he tell Chris Larabee what it was they were doing. And even then, the gunslinger only told if he had to. "And heaven forbid that our illustrious leader should let information slip," Ezra concluded.

Providing his companion a snide look, Tanner coaxed his mount into a faster pace to move ahead of the southerner. Suddenly the tracker didn't feel like talking anymore. He wondered why Chris had paired him up with Standish yet again and swore a few choice words under his breath. Oh, he liked the gambler as much as any man, but Ezra just seemed to get under Vin's skin more than most folks. And besides, they weren't more than a half-hour outside Sierra Flats, and Tanner wanted to start home right after lunch. The sooner this trip was over with the better.

The southerner watched the tracker as he moved on ahead and Standish couldn't help but smile. There was something about Vin he had always liked. Something ... familiar. Something... Shaking his head, Ezra let the thought go. He smiled his customary boyish grin before coaxing his horse into a faster gait. The gambler happily followed his brooding companion along the little used trail.

"What you up to, JD?"

Dunne turned and smiled. "Hi, Nathan," he responded before turning his attention back to his horse. "I was just saddlin' Dusty. Me and Casey is goin' for a ride."

"Gonna be a beautiful afternoon. Goin' anywhere in particular?" Jackson asked as he patted his own mount on the head. Ginger always seemed to expect a little something whenever his master came around.

"Nope," the kid answered as he checked the main strap again. He shook the saddle to ensure its seating. "Just takin' a ride."

"Well that's good, JD. I do like to see a man keep good company with his lady."

Dunne had been about to mount up, when the healer's comment caught him off guard. He spun around and looked at his friend anxiously.

Jackson responded to JD's reaction with an equally curious look. His expression softened as he began to understand the boy's interpretation. "You ain't embarrassed by me calling her your lady... are you now, JD?"

"No!"

"Well, then why such a performance when I called her yours."

Dunne turned back to his horse and momentarily distracted himself with his saddle horn. Deciding that his friend's comments weren't really that 'bad', JD smiled covertly before mounting up. Pointing Dusty out of the barn, the kid smiled at Jackson. "Nice afternoons are made for ridin' with ya girl, Nathan. And that's exactly what I intend to be doin." He tipped his hat and headed out.

The healer smiled and shook his head playfully as he watched his friend leave. Young as he was, JD Dunne was beginning to catch on to a few of life's little pleasures. Nathan figured he could do with a ride in the country now and then... with a certain Miss Rain at his side...

Lost in that thought, the healer didn't hear his name being spoken.

"Nathan," the preacher called again.

Not missing the second summons, the healer turned around and greeted his friend with a nod of his head.

"And just where's our young friend off to on a lovely afternoon such as this, brother?"

A smirk crossed Nathan's face before he answered Sanchez. "You sure do have a way with words sometimes, Josiah." He turned his attention back to the retreating form in the distance. "JD's on his way ta meet Miss Casey for an afternoon ride."

Cocking his head at the thought, the preacher joined Nathan in his appreciation of the boy's point. "Sounds like a wonderful idea ta me."

"Yeah," the healer agreed, "was just thinkin' the same thing maself. Don't matter much though," he shrugged off the idea and looked at Josiah. "Rain ain't gonna be here till day after tomorrow."

Sensing the obvious anticipation and clear disappointment in his friend's voice, the preacher put an arm around Nathan's shoulder. "One of these days, brother, you're gonna convince that girl ta stay. Then you won't have ta worry about choosin' a day ta go ridin'. You can do it whenever you want."

Jackson looked at the preacher, smiled and cocked his head. The eternal optimist he thought to himself. "Josiah..." he began.

"Yes?"

Shaking his head again, Nathan decided to leave the topic alone. "How's the sermon comin' along?"

Knowing that the subject had just been changed on him, Sanchez looked deep into the healer's eyes. The corners of his mouth curled when he realized there was no turning back. "Fine, brother, just fine. Care to render an opinion on its content thus far?"

"Oh, I think I'll wait on tomorrow if you don't mind."

"Alright then," the preacher answered. "My lunch is settlin' and I do believe I have gathered the fresh air I was lookin' for," he commented as he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "I shall return to my humble abode and finish the job at hand."

"Good luck," Nathan offered as Josiah headed off back towards the church.

Sanchez signaled his thanks with a raised hand over his shoulder as he went.

Nathan shook his head again, smiled and headed back up to his clinic.

"Mr. Tanner," the gambler began. "I do believe you have been observing the grime of the trail for a substantial portion of our homeward journey. Please feel free... at any point in time... to inform me as to what it is that you find so attractive down there."

Vin looked back at Standish and shook his head. "I swear Ezra... you'd ride right over a dead man without ever noticing."

"I take exception to that remark, sir," he straightened his stance as they rode. "If you are referring to the wagon tracks we have been following..."

"Ain't just the wagons."

Letting his slight annoyance go, the gambler concentrated on the serious tone with which the tracker spoke. "Clearly you see something that disturbs you, Mr. Tanner. I am... 'All ears', as they say."

Registering the worry in the gambler's words, Vin quickly related his own concerns.

"Baker Pass ain't long, but it's high... and narrow in spots."

Ezra couldn't hold back his smile. He knew darn well that his next comments were going to annoy Vin to no end, but he just couldn't restrain himself when one of his associates walked into these situations. "Your talent for uttering the obvious, Mr. Tanner, is abundantly clear. I will, however, require a little more signification if I am to decipher you message and arrive at a response that is justified."

With his head still hung low over the side of his horse, the tracker slowly turned his head back towards the trailing southerner and shot the man a glare worthy of Larabee himself. Righting himself in the saddle he reined in his horse and jumped down. "See those tracks," he pointed to the wagon trails they had been following for quite some time now.

Receiving an affirmative nod from his companion, Vin continued. "There's got 'a be four wagons, and they're all load too." He took a few steps, knelt down and touched the dirt where it became wide for just an instant. "There," he called back, "the lead wagon's got a loose wheel."

Standish took a few seconds to ponder Vin's words. Finally deducing what his companion was getting at, Ezra dismounted and joined Tanner by the tracks.

"Is it bad?"

"Reckon."

"How far ahead are they?"

Vin looked up ahead and then back at the tracks. Looking up at the sun as it began to descend from its leisurely arc across the sky, he turned back to Standish. "They probably figured they'd take the short cut through the pass and stop off in Four Corners ta get it fixed. If we ride hard for a while we should be able to catch up to 'em in about an hour." The tracker stood and looked at the gambler. His face was as serious as the southerner had ever seen in. "Hope that's soon enough," was all he said before moving back to his horse.

Ezra moved back to Loki and mounted up while the tracker did the same. Both riders set their horses into a gallop and head off in the directions of the pass.

Spotting Chris and Mary outside the Clarion as he approached, Wilmington smiled to himself. He knew the two were becoming closer as the weeks went by, and he wondered how long it was actually going to be before Larabee make a formal declaration.

"You two wouldn't be making plans for the evening now would ya?" the ladies man asked as he met up with the pair.

"Mr. Wilmington!" Mary admonished, "I do hope you are not implying..."

"Now hold on there, Mrs. Travis," Buck interrupted before the widow could finish her accusation. "I wasn't implying nothin' improper..."

"Yeah," the gunslinger put his two cents into the conversation, "I know you'd like to see the sun actually set tonight."

Wilmington put his hands on his hips and gave the couple his best 'well, I just don't believe it' look. Squinting his eyes at his oldest friend, Wilmington began to smile as he recognized the devious look in Larabee's eyes.

"Alright, you old dog. Just exactly what is it that you're up to."

"Mr. Wilmington!"

"Now, Mrs. Travis, Chris here only gets that look when he's planning something sneaky. And with all due respect ma'am," he tipped his hat, "I know it ain't got nothin' ta do with you."

The newspaperwoman looked back and forth between the two men before deciding that Chris needed more of her attention. Adopting the stance that Wilmington had just abandoned, Mary began her own questions. "And just what is it, Mr. Larabee, that you are 'up to'?"

If looks could indeed kill, Buck felt he'd be six feet under by now. Chris had a nasty stare at the best of times. And when he was in one of his moods...well after more than a dozen years, the ladies man figured he should know better by now.

Diverting his attention back to the lovely lady, Chris gave her his best smile. "Buck don't know what he's talkin' about, Mary. I'm not 'up ta' anythin'," he concluded, glancing one more time in Wilmington's direction.

Catching the 'shut your damn mouth' look from Larabee, Buck decided it was time for him to be moving on. "Well... I can tell I'm barkin' up the wrong tree here," he said as he tipped his hat to Mary. "Good day, Mrs. Travis." He glanced at the gunslinger one more time, "Chris," he added before heading off down the street. Buck still figured Larabee was up to something, but he'd have to find out later, just exactly what it was.

"And just what was all that about?" the widow asked still giving Chris a nasty look.

The gunslinger shook his head and did his best to hide his intentions. Planning a surprise for Mary wasn't as easy as it might seem. Her inquisitive nature was what made her a good newspaperwoman, but it also made sneaking around very hard. A surprise Sunday afternoon picnic shouldn't be this hard to plan. "I have no idea what goes through his mind sometimes," Chris answered Mary question. "Maybe he didn't get enough 'shut eye' after pulling the night shift at the jail."

"Maybe..." the lovely widow admitted as she considered the explanation that was offered to her. Sometime she just couldn't tell when any of these men were telling the truth or not. She did understand that they fabricated stories to protect the citizens of Four Corners... most of the time. Mary just wished she could tell what was a lie and what wasn't.

"So," Larabee tried to get their previous conversation back on track, "That'll be alright with you then?"

"Yes," Mary replied realizing that she would get no further on the subject of deception, "I think Billy would enjoy a trip to the pond. Thank you for asking, Mr. Larabee."

Chris tipped his hat, "So I'll see you tomorrow after church then."

"That would be fine," she replied, reaching for the door handle.

The gunslinger smiled at the lady before turning his attention to the street. He glanced back and watched Mary as she disappeared inside The Clarion. Looking back to the street, he scanned it hoping to catch a glance of the ladies man. There was no two ways about it, Wilmington knew Chris too well, and one of these days it was going to get them both into a whole lot of trouble. Eventually they had to make time for a discussion, and Larabee had decided that time was now.

"Come on," Jake Webb said nicely, as he helped the last boy down from the wagon. He followed the child toward the group of people waiting off to the side of the rigs. "Now let's see what we've got here."

The four adults gathered the boys and girls into a tight cluster so they could decide on how best to distribute the load. Their lead wagon had a bad front wheel, and they needed to get everything out of it. They were hoping this would buy them enough time to get to that near-by town, so they could get it repaired.

"Mrs. Crestwell," Jake called out.

Standing on the other side of the group, a dark haired woman looked up from the young girl she was tending. Ruth Crestwell was the caregiver assigned to take care of the children on this trip. Once they reached the new territorial orphanage in Bitter Creek, she would be the head matron. Her husband was waiting for her there, as he was the administrator for the facility.

Never having had children of her own, this woman had a soft spot for these parentless youngsters. God had given her the lost children of the world to take care of, and she did her job with the kindness and compassion that was so often missing from others in her profession. And the children seemed to trust her too. Her brown eyes were always happy, and her round body was always warm and inviting when they needed a big hug. "Yes, Mr. Webb," she replied.

"Mrs. Crestwell, I think we'll put some of the little ones in your wagon to load you up."

"Alright," she acknowledged, while taking a look around to see how best to accommodate that request.

"Henry," Webb called to the man standing nearer the horses. "You get some of the boys ta help move the supplies to the back of the last wagon."

Henry Rogers signaled his understanding by raising one hand and nodding. He quickly moved to the children and picked out four of the bigger boys to accomplish the task assigned.

"I think we can manage the ten girls, plus Phillip of course," the matron called back to Webb. Patricia and Phillip Johnson were eight-year-old twins, who never went anywhere without each other. Trying to separate them had caused 'hell on earth' several times. And for children who had never spoken, that was truly something to see. "Should be able to get four or five of the little ones in too," Mrs. Crestwell concluded.

"Good. Can you see to that and get them loaded up?"

The woman nodded her compliance and set about accomplishing her task.

"Mitch," Jake called to the remaining man, "get the rest of the boys in to one of the other wagons. It'll be a little cramped until we get to that town, but if they don't like it they can walk."

Mitchell Birch just nodded his head in compliance. As far as he was concerned they could all walk. This trip was a waste of his valuable time. Contracting to transport goods, material and supplies was one thing. Getting stuck with a bunch of noisy, delinquent brats was another. And Mitch knew first hand how bad some of the older boys could be. Of course, it was no secret that he didn't care for them at all, and they had just been 'paying him back' when they framed him for that little theft back in Ridge City. Pushing some of the boys towards the two wagons, Birch set about his task.

"Mr. Webb."

Jake turned around to see Henry sending two boys off carrying a box between them.

"That's the last of the stuff. The lead rig's empty now, just like you asked."

"How's it look?"

Henry shook his head and pursed his lips together. It was obvious from his expression that he wasn't happy with the situation. "That depression really made a mess of the wheel, Jake. Sure wish Luke had spoken up sooner about it bein' noisy. Must've started with some broken bearings." He shook his head again. "Ain't nothin' wrong with the spokes, but most of the hub is worn away. Must 'a lost the rest of the bearing miles back and I got no more grease to put on the shaft. If it keeps rubbin' the way it has..." he looked up at the man, and raised his eyebrows. "We're gonna lose it fer sure."

"Alright, Henry," Webb tapped the man on the shoulder and tried to reassure him. "You gonna be alright drivin' it alone?"

The man nodded his head slowly. He didn't like the idea of driving a damaged wagon through the pass, but they had a schedule, and they needed this wagon.

"Good," Jake said reassuringly. "You take the lead and just take it slow. We can make it a short way with the kids packed in like this, but we need this wagon to pick up the last few before we get ta Bitter Creek." He started to walk away but turned his head back. "Take it easy through the pass... alright. Don't matter if we get there after dark. Just take it slow."

Henry nodded his head and moved off towards the lead wagon.

"Luke!" Webb called out as he looked around. He saw no sign of the boy. "Luke!" he called out, a little louder this time.

"Over here, Mr. Webb," a voice called out from the distance.

Luke Robertson was a burly sixteen-year-old who had grown up in the home at Kettletown. Unlike a lot of boys reared in orphanages, Luke looked out for other children. A lot of the older boys teased him, said he was 'slow', but Luke did his best to ignore their comments. Mrs. Crestwell said he had 'a big heart' and those few words were the ones he concentrated on. He minded his own business and helped out where ever and whenever he could.

Not really knowing the ways of the world too well, Luke stuck close to the home even after his sixteenth birthday. He earned his keep by doing jobs that needed doing, and the extras that no one else wanted to do. The consolidation of all the small homes in the territory into one large facility had presented Luke with his first paying job. He was to be hired on at the new orphanage as a journeyman. For the trip he was in charge of driving the fourth wagon and helping Mrs. Crestwell keep an eye on the children. Although they hadn't planned on this many little ones to watch, they had managed quite nicely so far.

"Luke, it's time to get going," Jake directed the boy to the wagon as he arrived by his side. As they walked, he continued, "It's gonna be tight between here and the next town, boy, but we got 'a give Henry the space he needs to get that wagon through the pass." Stopping beside the rear wagon, Jake turned the boy so they were looking each other in the eyes. "Don't crowd Mitch, okay. Stay aways back."

"Alright, Mr. Webb. I understand," he nodded his head. "I got it... stay back aways."

"Good boy," Jake patted Luke on the shoulder one more time. "Good boy," he repeated again before heading for his own wagon.

After watching Larabee leave the saloon, Josiah got up from the chair out front and shook his head from side to side. As he entered the establishment, he glanced over his shoulder and watched the gunslinger's form disappear from view. The more time their leader spent in this little town, the more relaxed he became. It had been a while since Sanchez had seen him upset, and he had sure sounded that way when the preacher overheard his conversation. Yet it was a different kind of agitation than usual.

"Guess you overheard Chris giving me heck," the ladies man questioned Josiah as he approached the table.

"Oh...made out some words," the preacher commented, "didn't sound like he was too upset with ya though."

"Reckon he would have been if 'n I'd 'a spoiled his surprise out-right."

Sanchez looked up as he took his seat. His inquisitive expression was all Wilmington needed for the go-ahead to fill in the blanks that were obviously filling the preacher's head.

"Happened upon 'im about half ago talkin' with Mary."

Josiah made himself comfortable and nodded his understanding.

"Guess I stuck ma foot in ma mouth."

"Now, that's a surprise..." the preacher commented raising his eyebrows.

Giving Josiah a dirty look, the ladies man continued, "I seen that look in his eyes before. Knew he was up ta somethin'."

"And you spoke up without thinkin'!"

"Well... yeah," Wilmington replied nonchalantly.

"And that 'something' Chris was 'up to', has something to do with Mary!"

"Well ... yeah," the ladies man repeated again, this time shifting position in his chair.

"Brother..." Josiah began, but stopped and looked Buck in the eye. Shaking his head, he smiled at his friend. There was a long paused. "He's changing Buck..." Sanchez finally said. "Don't rightly know if that's good or bad, but he's finding a part of himself that's been lost."

Wilmington lowered his head as he thought on the preacher's words. He understood Josiah was speaking the truth. He knew Chris was beginning to let go of the past, and to forge a future with Mary and Billy, and this little town of theirs, and even with the rest of the seven. Chris Larabee was becoming the man Buck had known before...

"Reckon I ain't good at thinkin' before I say somethin'," Buck acknowledged as he wiped the visions of the burnt out house from his head. "Sarah..."

Sanchez looked at the man who sat across from him and nodded his head gently as he recognized his friend's anguish. "She was good for you both, Buck."

"Yeah," the ladies man commented as he straightened up in his chair. "She always said I was just a big kid..." Cocking his head, Buck smiled as he remember the words. "Said I'd never grow up... until I found a lady like her to plant ma feet solidly on the ground."

"Suppose that's what she did for Chris too?"

"Oh yeah," Wilmington replied without hesitation. "That lady calmed him down, and set him on the right track." The ladies man looked at Josiah inquisitively, "he never looked back either. Stayed on that path she set for them until..."

There was a long pause before Josiah broke the silence.

"Sounds ta me like she made ya both think twice about the road your lives were travelin'."

Nodding his head once again, Buck smiled.

"So maybe this thing with Mary 'll have the same effect on you..."

"Oh, now hold on there, Josiah."

"Hey guys, what ya talkin' about," JD interrupted as he sat down boisterously at the table and clamped his hands together.

"And here's the man, who knows all about these things, ta tell us what it is that you're doin' wrong."

Wilmington gave the preacher a 'not in a million years' look and shuffled in his chair.

"If I didn't know betta, Josiah, I'd say you was makin' fun of me," the kid piped in.

"Good kid," Buck slapped JD on the arm, "good. You're catchin' on to the man and his wisecracks. And another thing," Wilmington directed his comments to the preacher, "Mrs. Travis is... is..."

"Different," the preacher finished his friend's sentence for him.

"Yeah!"

Dunne had a very puzzled look on his face. "What would I know about Mrs. Travis that you wouldn't?" he asked of the two men.

Wilmington looked at Josiah disgruntled.

"And who's doin' somethin' wrong?" Dunne added.

"You just love confusin' the kid, don't ya?" Wilmington asked sarcastically, as he got to his feet. Turning his attention back to JD, Buck shook his head. "Josiah don't know what he's talkin' about, kid. Don't you pay him no mind," he added as he departed.

Dunne was still looking at Sanchez, and the preacher decided he'd best change the subject.

"And how was your afternoon with Miss Casey?"

A beaming smile replaced the questioning look the kid had shown just seconds before. "Casey fixed a picnic lunch and we ate out by the pond. Rode around some and then went back and sat fer a while."

"So you had yer self an enjoyable day?"

JD smiled again. "Sure did." He sat forward and leaned hard on the table, the thoughts in his mind were clearly visible in the furrow of his brow. After a long moment of silence Dunne spoke. "Josiah?"

"Yes, brother."

"Can a man ever have too much of a woman's company?" the kid asked thoughtfully.

The preacher pressed his lips together trying hard to hide his amusement. It wasn't so much the questions the kid asked it was the seriousness with which he asked them. "Well, son, there are times when a man needs to be on his own," Sanchez began. "No women folk around ta interfere with things that's just got 'a be done." He sat up straight in his chair. "And hear my words, John Dunne, they can interfere somethin' awful."

"Interfere with what kind 'a stuff?" the kid asked sincerely.

Josiah allowed himself a small smile as he shook his head gently. He leaned in close to his companion before speaking. "JD, there are some things in this world that women don't have a say in... town council, for instance. Women don't have a vote on what goes on, so what's the use of lettin' 'em take up time in meetin's."

JD nodded his head in agreement. "And they'd probably bring up all sorts 'a stuff that didn't need talkin' about in the first place."

"Exactly."

There was a long pause. Clearly JD was ciphering something before he finally spoke. "But wasn't it the ladies who wanted you ta start church services again, Josiah?"

The preacher rubbed his chin and sat back in his chair. A smile slowly crept across his face. "Yeah, " he conceded, "it was them who convinced their husbands ta vote that way... reckon most men folk wouldn't have voted for it if they hadn't been ... encouraged by the ladies. Just goes ta show ya. Don't reckon the world would be the same place if we didn't have 'em, JD. Don't reckon men will ever understand why they do the things they do, but one thing for sure though,"

The kid looked at Sanchez intently. He was truly interested in what Josiah had to say. The more he figured he knew about Casey the less he would be inclined to mess things up with her... he hoped. Dunne raised his eyebrows in anticipation of what he older, wiser counterpart had to say.

"We do our best ta live with 'em, cause we sure don't want 'a find out what it's like ta live with out 'em."

JD was a little caught off guard when he heard his friend speak those words, but the more he thought on it the more the words made sense. Both men smiled at each other and sat back in their chairs to reflect.

"Why on earth would anyone, in their right mind, bring wagons up here?" Standish asked of the sharpshooter as they rode along the narrow trail. Although he was posing a question, he did not expect an answer from his traveling companion. Vin had his eyes fixed firmly on the tracks below their feet. Looking down the embankment, the southerner shook his head as he considered the drop off. He glanced further down the trail as they rounded a curve. "Mr. Tanner!" he exclaimed.

The tracker sensed the agitation in the southerner's voice and looked back at Ezra. He immediately saw the worry in the man's eyes and followed his gaze up the trail. Although they were slowly loosing the light behind the hills, he could make out three wagons on the road and what looked like several people venturing up and down the side of the slope. "Looks like trouble," was all Vin had time to say before he took off at a gallop.

"Always straight to the point, Mr. Tanner," the gambler muttered as he sped off after the tracker.

As they reached the trailing wagon, Vin could hear, what sounded like children, crying and what sounded like a woman, telling them 'everything was going to be alright'. He rode on to the lead wagon and found a large young man giving directions to some younger boys. Tanner reined in his horse and jumped down.

"Mrs. Crestwell," Luke called out as he watched the second man ride in and get down from his horse. The two strangers made him nervous. "Mrs. Crestwell," he yelled again.

Several of the younger boys stopped feeding out the ropes they were handling, and one young man jumped into the bed of the first wagon.

"It's alright boys," the tracker announced as he walked passed Luke Robertson. He could read the apprehension on the man's face. "We just came ta help," he said looking at the edge of the embankment. "Anyone hurt?"

Luke started to nod his head, but Hugh Wylie appeared from inside the wagon with a pistol in his hands. "Hold it right there, mister," the boy said as he aimed the weapon right at Vin's head.

"Whoa there, young fella," Tanner called out as he backed away. "We're just here ta help."

"We's managin' just fine, mister. Don't need nobody ridin' in here tryin' 'a take advantage."

Although he was extremely curious at the lad's choice of words, Ezra knew he needed to act fast before things got out of control. "Young man," he called out as he walked in the opposite direction to Vin. "Might I suggest that you allow us to render assistance in any way possible before you dispatch us to the maker."

Keeping Standish in his sights, the young man frowned as he tried to figure out what this fancy pants was saying.

"Hugh!" Luke called out, but was quickly 'shhhhh'd' by the other boys.

"It is quite clear that some sort of mishap has occurred here," Ezra continued as he made his way to the edge of the slope and peered down. He could see the remains of a wagon on the hillside below. Debris was spread out all over, and several other boys were gathered around the crash site. "And from what I can see from this vantage point, it appears that you have an injured man in need of help down there."

"Two," Luke corrected.

Vin Tanner moved quickly as the young man with the pistol focused on his fellow peacekeeper. He had been closing in on Hugh while Ezra distracted him, and as Luke spoke up Vin was able to dart forward and snatch the gun from the boy's hands. Hugh backed up as the tracker took the weapon.

"It's alright, son," Standish reassured the young man again as he approached from the other side. "We are only here to help."

Hugh joined a couple of the other older boys and they moved off to the side. Still close enough to hear what was being said, but just far enough away to be out of mind.

"Name's Vin." The tracker moved over and offered the young man his hand.

"Luke Robertson," the burly sixteen-year-old replied as he shook the offered hand.

"What happened here, Luke?" Standish put in as he joined the two at the front of the wagon.

"We was just gonna try and bring Mr. Webb and Mitch up the hill," he replied.

"Are they hurt, son?" the southerner asked.

"Yes, sir..."

"Mr. Webb is unconscious," a woman continued.

Turning around, Standish and Tanner were greeted by the only adult they had encountered thus far. Ezra figured the woman to be in her early forties. Just a touch of gray highlighted her auburn hair. She was a little rounder than most women he knew, but the southerner could see that it didn't slow her down much.

"Mitchell's got a few broken bones I believe." The woman held out her hand to Ezra, "I'm Ruth Crestwell, head matron for the Bitter Greek Territorial Orphanage."

Scooping the woman's hand and kissing it ever so gently, Ezra offered a smile. "How may we be of assistance, ma'am?"

"Anyone else in the wagon when it went over?" Tanner added as he crouched at the edge.

"Henry Rogers was driving," Ruth replied.

"We moved all the boys out a few miles back," Luke added. "All the belongings and supplies too."

"Mr. Webb and Mr. Birch went down the hillside to see to Henry and got caught when the wagon continued its descent unexpectedly," Mrs. Crestwell continued.

"They's both hurt. Henry's dead," the young man concluded.

Looking around at the gathering children, Standish thought on the woman's words. "How many children do you have here, Mrs. Crestwell?"

Ruth looked around at the children. This trip was hard enough on them as it was. And now something like this had to happen. She just wanted the journey to be over and done with so that the children could start a more stable life in a new and permanent home. "Thirty two," she answered matter of factly.

"Thirty... two" the gambler repeated slowly. He looked around again, then raised an eyebrow before his gaze came to rest of Vin.

"Maybe you betta ride ta town and bring back the others," the tracker suggested.

"You from that town on the other side of the pass?" Luke questioned.

Tanner nodded in head.

"We was tryin' ta make it there," the boy added.

"Perhaps you are right, Mr. Tanner," Ezra commented as he moved back towards Loki. "A large party, such as this, requires as much assistance as can be mustered. Will you be all right until I return? ... Roughly an hour, I would say."

The tracker looked at Mrs. Crestwell and Luke Robertson. Both people returned his smile and Vin took that as a good sign. He nodded his head to Standish.

Tipping his hat to Vin and the lady, the southerner moved to his horse, mounted up and sped off at his best speed.

"Now," the tracker turned his attention back to the slope. "Let's see about gettin' those two injured men up this hill." Mrs. Crestwell smiled at Tanner and turned her attention to Luke Robertson. She nodded her head and indicated that he should assist in the recovery in anyway possible.