Small Packages

By: TJ

It was well after dark when the five wagons pulled into Four Corners. Mrs. Travis stood outside the Clarion with her shawl pulled over her shoulders and watched as the peacekeepers brought the travelers into their temporary home. Ezra had told them about the wagon accident in Baker Pass, and the thirty-two children who were the reason for the journey. Mary thought about Billy, tucked safely into his bed, as she watched the first wagon roll by. The widow had never thought about orphans before. They had never had any of these unfortunate children in their town.

"Is everything ready, Mrs. Travis?" Buck asked as he rode by.

The widow signaled her affirmative answer.

Wilmington looked across at Nathan and nodded his head. The healer had the two injured men trussed up as comfortably as possible in the back of the wagon he was driving. He was anxious to get a better look at them within the confines of his clinic. Although confident of his initial assessment, Jackson felt more at ease in his own surroundings.

Chris Larabee pulled his horse to a stop in front of the widow and smiled. "We're gonna take the injured men ta Nathan's. Can you help out with the children?"

"Of course," Mary replied. "Inez already has a big pot of stew ready for them. Mrs. Potter sent over a batch of hot cocoa too."

The gunslinger lowered his head for just a moment and smiled to himself. Looking back at the lovely lady, he gave her a smile. "Good," was all he said before moving off down the street.

Somehow Larabee should have known that the women of the town would pull together in a crisis. In similar ways to the peacekeepers, they were just a much a close-knit group and they could be counted on when the need arose. Stopping his horse outside the undertakers, Chris dismounted, reined in the packhorse and began to untie the swaddled body. It didn't matter much if it was a dead man from a gun battle or an accident like this. This was one task the gunslinger hated.

At the other end of town, Buck was helping Nathan get the two injured men up to the clinic. The leader of this group still had not regained consciousness, while the other man insisted his pain was more than he could bear. Jackson had already decided that he wished the men had the opposing injuries.

While Inez had been busy preparing food, Casey and Nettie Wells had gathered extra blankets. Josiah had been busy in the church and at the exchange. With the help of some of the men, pews and benches had been moved to the walls, and the blankets had been counted. They needed two places to house all the children. The girls would stay at the church, while the boys would sleep in the grain exchange.

Luke Robertson pulled his wagon up behind the extra one Standish had brought back. The boy followed the southerner's lead and began ushering the boys into the large building where they would stay. The smaller children were clearly cold, hungry and tired. Mrs. Wells greeted them at the door with a warm smile and handed out blankets.

Dunne dismounted and tied his horse to the hitchin' post. As he moved towards the exchange to help out, JD caught sight of an older boy moving away from the others. He decided he'd best intercept the lad, and moved to do just that. "Hold on there, son," he said firmly as he took the boy's arm.

"I just wanna stretch my legs a little, mister," Hugh Wylie replied as JD re-directed him back toward the building.

"Son, you need ta stay where we can keep an eye on ya. All the men folk who's responsible for ya is hurt and we need ta keep you all together." Dunne replied.

The boy wasn't too happy with the answer he received, and skulked off into the exchange.

"I might suggest that you keep an eye on those young men, Mr. Dunne," the southerner advised. He's seen this type of fellow before. Didn't matter whether they were old or young, people who were up to something got a certain look in their eyes. Ezra Standish was very adept at detecting it, and hopefully, just as skilled at thwarting any possible scheme.

JD eyed Standish curiously before looking through the door to where Hugh Wylie had settled. The boy had moved off into a corner with two other boys and they kept looking over their shoulders to see who was watching them. JD strained to see what it was the boys were up to. Hidden in the shadows it was hard to see exactly what they might be looking at, or talking about. Yeah, maybe they are up to something he thought to himself.

Over at the church Vin Tanner was assisting Mrs. Crestwell in getting the girls unloaded from the last wagon. One by one he got them down, and one by one Ruth walked them inside the church. Inez was waiting at the door with a wide smile and a warm blanket.

Assisting a pretty blond girl down to the ground, he looked at her curiously as she looked back inside the wagon. Wondering what she was looking for, Vin turned around and found an equally handsome blond boy looking down at the girl.

"Well, hello there young fella," the tracker whispered as he set Phillip Johnson on the ground. "I think you got mixed up with the wrong group. You should be in with the boys. Why don't I just walk you on over." Vin took hold of the boy's shoulder and tried to point him towards the exchange.

Phillip took hold of his sister's hand then grabbed the tie down on the wagon.

"Just the girls are going in the church. Boys are over there," Tanner tried again to get the boy to go, but the children made it clearly that they were not going to move. Vin took off his hat and knelt down in front of the siblings. "You two got somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"Oh, it alright, Mr. Tanner. I'm sorry. I should have warned you." Ruth Crestwell held out her hand and Phillip let go of the tie down.

"Ma'am?"

"Phillip won't leave his sister, Mr. Tanner," she looked down at the children and smiled. "Come on you two. Let's get you inside where it's warm."

Phillip looked at his sister and nodded his head. Patricia smiled faintly and the two followed the woman inside.

The tracker watched the three forms curiously, before turning back to lift the next child down to the ground.

It took another hour and a half before the whole process was over and the children were snuggled in their bedrolls. All of them had some stew and most had at least some of the cocoa they were offered. Laying a last blanket across two of the girls, Ruth Crestwell bid them good night and walked out of the church. Pulling her shawl up against the cool night air, she smiled at the group of men gathered outside the stables.

"Josiah, Vin. You take first watch," the gunslinger directed his men. "We wanna make sure these kids stay put. We don't need 'em wanderin' off."

"Thank you, Mr. Larabee," the matron put into the conversation as she approached. "I really don't know how we would have managed if your men hadn't happened upon us."

"We're always here ta help, ma'am," Larabee replied to the woman.

"And how are Mr. Webb and Mr. Birch, Dr. Jackson?"

"As I said before, Mrs. Crestwell, I ain't no doctor," Nathan replied as he tipped his hat. "I just do the best I can with the knowledge I got."

The matron smiled at the dark healer and acknowledged, if only to herself, that this man underestimated his abilities. "Are they going to be alright?" she asked again.

"Birch has got two busted legs where that wagon rolled over him. He's pretty bruised up too. I ain't sure about Webb though." Nathan took his hat off and wiped his brow. "How'd you say it happened?"

Mrs. Crestwell thought on the events that had led up to the accident. She had been riding in the fourth wagon with Luke, but wasn't really paying attention to her surrounding. She had only heard the wagon go over the side. When the dust had cleared, Jake and Mitch had made their way down the slope. Henry was still alive at that time, but pinned under the wagon. The two men had tried to lever the rig off of him when the slope had given way. The wagon rolled further down the hill, taking all three men with it.

The words Luke Robertson has used after coming back up the slope rang in Ruth's ears. Henry was dead. The wagon was lying completely on top of Mr. Webb, and Mitchell's legs were pinned between a rock outcropping and the wagon. Repeating her understanding of the events for Nathan, Ruth pulled her shawl up again.

"Might I suggest that you turn in for the night too, Mrs. Crestwell," the preacher said quietly. "It's been a bit of a shock for you too."

Ruth looked up at the big man and smiled. "Yes, Mr. Sanchez. I've sent word to my husband. I suppose there isn't much else for me to do tonight," she said as she regained her composure and turned back towards the church. "Thank you again for letting me occupy your bunk while we are here."

"Just figured the girls would feel safer knowin' you were close by," the preacher said softly as he tipped his hat.

Ruth smiled one more time and walked back in the direction from which she had come. She was exhausted and probably overwhelmed, as the preacher had said. She rubbed her brow, then looked up at the cross on the church steeple. She wondered if this was perhaps a definition of deliverance.

Sanchez watched the woman disappear through the church door and cocked his head. "That is one strong woman," he muttered.

"A woman who can manage thirty-two children at the same time," Standish pondered. "Perhaps there is a better word to describe such a creature..."

"Well, I reckon she's gonna need a helpin' hand in the next few days," Buck commented.

"Yeah," Nathan agreed. "Those two men ain't gonna be much use to her."

"And that kid don't seem ta know much about keepin' them older boys out 'a mischief," JD added.

"Well, would ya listen ta mister know it all over here," Wilmington admonished. "Like you ain't got more than a few years on that boy, JD. He's just a little more wet behind the ears than you are."

"That ain't fair, Buck," the kid replied. It was obvious he was more than a little put out by Wilmington's remarks.

"You're right kid," Buck said solemnly. "I reckon I should give you credit where it's due." The ladies man cleared his throat and smiled at Dunne.

"Well I should think so," JD straightened his shoulder and tried to make himself look more like he fit in with the men than with the boys they had just tucked into bed.

"Besides," Wilmington continued, "from the looks of that boy in there, I don't think he'd last a minute in a gunfight."

Dunne straightened his jacket and hat acting proud of what his friend was saying.

"Bet he'd whoop your hide real good in a brawl though," the ladies man snickered.

"Ah, Buck," the kid scoffed as he realized he'd been set up, yet again. "I'll give you a brawl if that's what you're lookin' for."

Wilmington knew his comment had hit home and he took off running down the street. JD was hot on his heels yelling every inch of the way.

"Well, boys I think it's time we turned in," Larabee commented.

"Indeed," Standish added, "somehow I believe the next few days might be... slightly out of the ordinary... shall we say."

Chris nodded his head and smiled at the thought. "Gonna be an interestin' few days anyway," he agreed.

Ezra and Nathan both nodded their heads and smiled.

"Good night gentlemen," the gambler tipped his hat and headed down the street.

The others nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

"And I got 'a check on my patients before gettin' some shut-eye myself," the healer commented before heading up the stairs to his clinic.

"Night, Nathan," Josiah said. "And if you gentlemen will excuse me. I need to retrieve my coat before it gets much cooler." Chris and Vin acknowledged the preacher's remarks. Both men watched as the big man made his way up the street.

"You been quiet," Larabee commented without turning to face his companion.

"Not much ta say."

The gunslinger shifted position, but still did not look at Tanner. He sensed an uneasiness about the man that he'd only felt a few times before. "Everythin' alright, Vin?"

There was a long silence before Tanner spoke. "Who you want ta relieve us?"

Larabee smiled before lowering his head. He knew better to press the tracker when he didn't feel like talkin'. "Buck and JD... if they ain't done themselves no harm by midnight."

Vin acknowledged the direction by nodding his head. "Night then."

Chris nodded in reply, yet he still didn't look at the tracker as he headed for his room.

An amazingly high pitched scream awoke Ezra Standish at an ungodly hour. Considering it was the lord's day, and considering anything before noon qualified for that particular statement, it was an accomplishment indeed. Sitting straight up in his bed, the gambler looked around nervously. The scream sounded again and he bounded out of bed and looked out his window.

Standish lowered his chin to his chest when he realized it was the vocal accomplishments of a young girl in the street below him that had roused him from his slumber. Not at all pleased with the false alarm that had awoken him, Ezra made his way back to his bed and hid under the covers. Another loud shrill commanded his pillow to quickly covered his head. "And this day is only the first," he muttered from under the pile.

Down in the street four boys had been chasing a young girl and had finally cornered her. Taunting her with a rather large rat they had found in the exchange, the poor girl was beside herself.

"Now boys, that's enough," Josiah cautioned the group as he came out of the boarding house. Eyeing the rodent that one of them was holding, the preacher stifled a smirk, and stood behind the girl holding her shoulders. "Off with you now. And be sure you let that creature free in the field."

The oldest boy gave his companions a quick look before glancing back at the girl. His look bestowed a 'wait 'til later' message that neither Sanchez, nor the girl, were too happy with. She looked up at the big man and he could see the slight hint of dread in her eyes.

Looking up from the little girl, Josiah gave the boys a stern look. "Go on now," he repeated.

One of the other boys tapped the leader on the shoulder and motioned for them to leave. He nodded his head and the four took off running back towards the exchange.

"Now then," the preacher directed his attention to the young girl. "Might I suggest that you find some of the other young ladies to play with."

The girl turned around and looked up at her rescuer. She smiled a pretty smile and nodded her head. "Thank you," she whispered quietly before running off down the boardwalk.

The preacher smiled. He was just about to head back inside when a woman called his name. He turned to see his favorite cook coming across the street. "Good morning, Mrs. Henderson."

"Good morning to you, Mr. Sanchez. I was wondering if you had seen Caleb today."

Some days it seemed that all Annie did was look for her wayward son. Caleb was her youngest child and had only been five when her husband died. Her two daughters had adjusted as well as could be expected, but her son missed his father terribly. And now, eight years later, the girls were both on their own, and Caleb seemed to blame Annie for his father's death. She tried to give him space to breathe and the time he needed to be alone. Yet somehow they seemed to be growing further apart, and the woman was afraid she was losing her son.

"Not today, Mrs. Henderson, but I can keep an eye out for him if you like."

The widow smiled at the preacher. He was a kind man, and she wished Caleb would take him up on his offer to spend time with the boy. "Thank you, I'd appreciate it," she replied as she spotted Mrs. Potter coming out of her store. "Oh, there's Gloria. I'll check with her. Thank you again, Mr. Sanchez."

"Ma'am," Sanchez offered as he tipped his hat to the departing woman. He too wished Caleb Henderson would accept his offer of friendship. It would be a good reason for him to spend time with the boy and his mother. He could get to know them both a little better. Another time he thought to himself as he headed back inside.

"So, you gonna try again next week, Josiah?" JD questioned his larger friend before taking up the seat beside him on the boardwalk. The jailhouse porch seemed to be a good place to keep a good eye on all the extra activity going on about town.

The preacher looked up from his papers and smiled. "Surely can't let all these fine words go ta waste, just cause the lord's house is bein' used for a greater purpose right now."

"No sir," Dunne acknowledged with another smile.

The loud voices coming from across the street drew the attention of the two men. As they watched, a group of boys tried to lasso one another. All laughing and giggling as their attempts succeeded and failed.

"These kids sure can find some funny ways to amusing themselves."

"Such is the nature of the youngster, JD. Of all god's creatures, the child is the most enduring, complicated... and frustrating."

"You got that right!" Wilmington added resoundingly as he perched himself against the support beam. "Just pulled three of them... creatures out of the attic at the exchange. Seems they were 'exploring' and got themselves stuck between two a' the beams."

The kid laughed.

Josiah smiled at the thought and watched as another group of youngsters went barreling by in the street. Yelling something about 'you're it' as they went.

"Has Mrs. Crestwell received a reply from her husband yet?" Wilmington asked as he watched the children playing.

"Chris said she got a wire this mornin'," the kid answered. "He says Mr. Crestwell's expectin' another group of kids in within a couple of days. Reckons he can send the drivers and a couple of their rigs ta pick this bunch up."

"It's a least a five day trip by wagon... right?" Wilmington didn't seem happy with the prospect of having the children around for a week.

"And they ain't arrived in Bitter Creek yet," the preacher added to the conversation. "Reckon it'll probably be about ten days before we get our quiet little town back."

Dunne looked at the preacher sarcastically. He'd never thought of Four Corners as a 'quiet' little town. Looking out at the street, he had to wonder though. Maybe Josiah had a point.

Buck, on the other hand, was stuck on 'ten days'. His face expressed what his mind was thinking. Their new arrivals had already caused a few problems and it was only their first day. What would their town look like in ten days time?

Nathan smiled at Inez and tipped his hat before closing the door behind him. The lovely lady had graciously offered to sit with the injured men while the healer took a walk. Nathan had a lot on his mind. Jake Webb had stirred late this afternoon, but still hadn't regained consciousness. Jackson was becoming more concerned that the bump on his head was more than just a swelling. He needed the man to regain consciousness soon or there might not be anything he could do for him.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, the healer stretched. It never failed to amaze him how stiff he got from sleeping in that big old comfy chair of his. He'd fallen asleep with a book in his hands last night. There wasn't a lot of research available to him when it came to head injuries, but he had looked over everything he had anyway. Just to be sure. Sitting with his patients all day hadn't helped his back or his frustration.

Looking down the street, the healer could see different groups of children playing around. He'd never seen the street in Four Corners so alive with little people. A flustered Buck had filled him in on some of the 'adventures' the peacekeepers had been occupied with today when he sort refuge for a while at the clinic.

As if pulling two of the boys off of the hotel roof wasn't bad enough, four of the men were required to round up some of the local horses when some of the children set them loose then chased them off.

Somehow thankful that all he'd been required to do was tend the injured men, Jackson smiled again at all the activity. He was about to make his way down the boardwalk when movement in the livery caught his eye. He turned around to see one child pushing another back into the shadows.

"Come on out 'a there now," Nathan smiled. "I ain't gonna hurt ya none."

The movement he could detect in the barn seemed to be away from him rather than towards him.

Thinking again about the accounts Wilmington had related Nathan decided it was best to remove the children from their surroundings before they ended up in trouble. "Come on kids. You shouldn't be in there when Yosemite ain't around. You're gonna get yerselves inta trouble now."

The healer could hear whispering going on and then the small figures started to move forward. First a young boy of about ten emerged from the shadows. He was followed closely by two girls. The older appeared to be about the same age and the other looked to be about five. Nathan was surprised when he got his first good look at the three children. Negro children weren't common in these parts, and certainly wouldn't have been included in a white orphanage.

"Where'd you three come from?" Jackson asked as he moved closer and knelt down.

The boy looked as though he was about to say something then thought better of it.

"It's alright, boy," Nathan said softly. He knew all too well the apprehension the child might be feeling. Had he known to whom he was speaking to, Jackson might have chosen better words. Telling three black children they were going to get into trouble was like telling Ezra Standish he was going to get into trouble. Call it chance or circumstance or inevitability, but sooner or later trouble would find them, no matter whether it was deserved or not. Nathan nodded his head and smiled at the wild eyes that stared at him.

"Does these folks really let you heal them, mister?"

Surprised at the words that came out of the boy's mouth, Jackson smiled again and laughed a little. Raising an eyebrow he spoke in his kindest voice. "And just where is it that you heard that young man?"

"Last night," the boy replied. "When you was tellin' those white folks how they should move the misters."

"So you did come in on the wagon train then?"

The boy nodded his head.

"Well," the healer began as he gained his feet and wandered back over to the stairs.

The children followed close behind.

"I reckon any man with good sense will take directions from someone who knows betta than they do," the healer continued as he sat on the bottom steps.

The boy waved the girls up the stairs before seating himself beside Jackson. The two girls sat just above them.

"These men are my friends. It don't matter much to them that my skin is a different color than theirs. I know how ta fix folks when they's hurtin', and mostly folks would rather let me do ma job than keep on hurtin'."

"Is you really a doctor?" the older girl asked.

Nathan laughed at the idea. "No ma'am," he replied. "Just a healer who knows a few things most folks don't."

"See," the young boy directed his words to the girl. "I told ya there ain't no nigger doctors."

"That's enough!" Nathan snapped quickly. He looked at the boy and then up at the two girls. "There ain't no cause for you ta be using that word. Just cause some white folks call us that, don't mean you got 'a use it too."

"They all call us ... that," the youngest girl replied after a moment. "The other little'ens."

Nathan reached up and caressed the girl's cheek. "And do you like it when they do?" he asked.

All three of the children shook their heads no.

"Then don't you be using the word too," he responded. "If ya wants them ta call ya somethin' else then tell 'em who you are." Looking around at the children he could see a spark of understanding in their eyes. He nodded his head and smiled again. "Now," he turned to the boy, "how's about tellin' me who you are." Jackson looked at the two oldest.

"I'm Robert."

"I'm Georgia."

Awaiting a reply from the youngest, Nathan raised his eyebrows.

The girl looked shyly at the healer, then turned to her older companion. When Georgia smiled at her she lowered her head and spoke quietly. "My name is Hope."

Nathan smiled again as he realized why the girl was cautious about telling people her name. It wasn't a common name anyway, but for a black child is was very unusual. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss Hope."

"Now that is an accomplishment, Mr. Jackson."

The healer had been concentrating on the children so much that he had completely lost touch with the goings on in the street. Ruth Crestwell had managed to come up behind them without anyone noticing.

"Ma'am," Nathan replied, still a little caught off guard.

"Hope doesn't talk to most people. Even those of her own color." The matron moved forward and set her hand on the girl's shoulder. "I hope ... they haven't been bothering you."

"Oh, no ma'am," Jackson replied as he stood up. "We was just introducin' ourselves," he said as he smiled back at the children and walked a few feet away.

Sensing the impending arrival of several pointed questions, Ruth followed the healer and smiled when she saw the inquisitive look on his face.

"I'm transporting them for a friend, Mr. Jackson. You and I both know that an orphanage could not be sanctioned if it were to attempt to mix the races together."

Jackson nodded his head. He was all too familiar with the policies governing blacks and whites. The Civil War was over, and black people had their freedom. Trouble was, that word didn't mean anything unless respect went with it. Too many people still had an enormous amount of hatred. The way Nathan saw it... blacks and whites would probably never be equal. And although he was lucky to have found his niche and friends that saw 'him', and not the color of his skin, he knew their were still too many wrongs that went unnoticed or unpunished.

"So they is orphans then?"

"Yes," Ruth replied as she took another few steps away from the children. "I agreed to take them with us to Bitter Creek. A man my husband knows has arranged for their transport to the black facility in the next territory."

"Seems like an awful long way ta go."

"Yes, Mr. Jackson, it is," the woman glanced back at the children and smiled. "They deserve to be with their own kind though... don't you think?"

Nathan studied the matron for a minute. The kindness in her face hid the clear confusion in her words. "You don't think they belong with white children, Mrs. Crestwell?" he tried to clarify her position.

Lowering her head, the matron spoke candidly. "I ... don't think the world is quite ready for blacks and whites to mix freely, Mr. Jackson." She raised her head and looked into the healer's eyes. "I do hope that one day... that is not the case, but right now we owe it to these children to give them a little peace. To given them as good a childhood as they can be provided. And that, I'm afraid, is with children of their own kind."

Nathan nodded his head in agreement. Unfortunately this woman spoke the truth. He could only hope that it would not be the truth for too much longer. He frowned, "You don't see the color of their skin, ma'am?" he asked curiously.

Ruth lowered her head to hide the smile that crept across her face. Regaining her composure she looked back at the dark man.

"They don't need me to see the color of their skin, Mr. Jackson. Most of the other children remind them of it just about every day. A lot of the adults too."

Nathan nodded his head as he listened to the woman's words.

Ruth looked back at the children and smiled again. "I see three orphans, Mr. Jackson. Not black. Not white. Just three children who need a little love and attention." There was a long silence before anyone spoke. "Good evening, Mr. Jackson," the matron said quietly before walking down the street.

"Good evening, Mrs. Crestwell," the healer said softly as he tipped his hat. Taking a deep breath, Nathan looked towards the setting sun, glanced back at the departing form and then towards the orphans he would take time to get to know. Somewhere deep inside he knew these three children couldn't be in better hands.

"Ma," the boy called from the door.

The owner of the general store poked her head up from behind the counter. "Yes, Matthew, what is it?"

"Ma, can I give Hugh some marbles?"

Intrigued by her son's request, Gloria Potter stood up and furrowed her brow. She looked intently at the larger boy who stood behind her son. Two more boys sat on the stairs. "And just how many marbles are we talking about young man?" she asked.

Not liking the position his mother's hands found on her hips, the younger Potter looked back at his newfound friends and smiled. "Be right back," he whispered to the biggest boy, then went into the store.

As she watched her son approach the counter, Gloria could tell this was not something the boy took lightly. He'd grown up so much in the past three years. Losing his father had been hard on him, but he had assumed the roll of 'man of the house', and wore the title well. He accepted his responsibilities wonderfully, and Gloria was very proud of him. Allowing herself a smirk, she reminded herself again that she also encouraged him to remain a boy, just a little while longer.

"Ma," Matthew presented his mother with his best smile, "I was hoping I could give Hugh a couple of the big ones."

Gloria crossed her arms and looked out at the boys on the boardwalk. "Matthew Potter, it is first thing Monday morning and you're already eager to give away the store."

"Oh, ma..." the thirteen year old resounded. "I ain't gonna give away the store. I just wanted to give 'em some marbles."

Gloria looked at her son intently. She wanted him to understand the consequences of what he was asking. They could only afford to 'give away' so many things before they began to lose money.

Matthew had listened to her enough to know that this store was their only means of income. She didn't take 'giving things away' lightly, and nor should he. Lowering his head, the boy tried to think of a way to appease his mother. "Just one each, " he finally suggested.

After several seconds Gloria's look softened. Several more seconds and her lips had formed a smiled. "One each," she repeated.

Exhilarated by his mother's words, the boy rushed to the shelf and pulled out the glass jar that contained the marbles. "Thanks, ma," he called out as he headed for the door.

"Bring it straight back," she called out, as she smiled at his excitement. Content herself that her son was happy, Gloria Potter returned to reorganizing the lower shelf.

Out on the boardwalk Hugh Wylie eyed to jar of marbles that his 'new friend' had delivered to him. "Hand it over," he ordered.

Matthew Potter looked up at the boy curiously. The smile slowly left his face. "My ma says we can only let you have one each."

"Hand it over," Hugh repeated again.

"Yeah, Matt... hand it over like Hugh says," Buddy Evans reiterated the words. He wasn't the leader type or a bully really. But following Hugh Wylie around made him talk and act tough. According to Buddy's thinking, the other kid's paid attention to him better when they knew he was with Hugh. He had no idea what they children 'really' thought about him.

Glancing back in his mother's direction, Matthew couldn't see her and wondered what he should do. This momentary distraction was all Hugh needed to swipe the marble jar from the boy's hands. "Hey..." he called out as they moved off the boardwalk and into the alleyway.

Rummaging around inside the jar, the big boy took out half a dozen marbles and handed the jar over to Buddy.

"Hey..." Matthew called out again, but to no avail.

Buddy picked several big ones and was about to hand the jar to the third boy when Hugh spoke up.

"You heard Matt... Two each."

"I said one..." the younger Potter started to say.

"But..." Evans interrupted.

"Two ... or none," Hugh moved in close to Buddy's face and sneered.

Dropping a few of the marbles back into the jar, the boy quickly handed it over to his waiting companion. Quickly finding the two he wanted, the boy handed the jar back to Hugh.

"Thank yer mother for us, Matt," Wylie snickered as he handed the jar back to its owner. He turned to the other boys and smiled. "We'll come back and do some more shopping... real soon."

The three boys all laughed and joked as they compared their new treasures.

Matthew Potter lowered his head and started to walk back to the store. He felt used and extremely disappointed. He had been hoping to make some new friends. Boys his age weren't common around Four Corners, and it was nice to have people to talk to. Even if it was only for a few days.

"Hey Matt," Hugh called out. "We're goin' over ta the meadow behind the church... wanna come?"

Completely forgetting about what had just happened, Matthew smiled and nodded his head. "Sure," he called back.

"Great," Wylie replied. "Bring some stick candy when ya come." And with that the three boys headed off back down the street. Laughing and joking as they went.

The smile on Potter's face lost its luster as the boy turned to go back into his mother's general store.

Chris Larabee sat in the sheriff's office listening to Tanner tell him about how the children from the wagon train had, or had not, settled down last night. Figuring it was their second night in town it should have been better than Saturday night, but apparently not. What was really intriguing the gunslinger though, was what Vin wasn't saying. Chris could hear every little inflection in his friend's voice when he mentioned how the 'little ones' did this, and the 'older boys' didn't do that.

"Just exactly what's got into you this morning, Chris?" Tanner finally asked after he'd had enough of that 'curiosity killed the cat' look of his leader's face.

The gunslinger looked at his friend innocently.

Vin got up from the corner of the desk he had been warming and looked back at the stubborn cuss he regarded as his closest friend. "Don't you go givin' me that 'I don't know what the hell you's talkin' about' look neither," he snapped, as Larabee's expression changed. "You got somethin' you wanna say...?" There was a long silence. The tracker rubbed his chin and sat back down on the corner of the desk.

More silent seconds passed.

"How long, Vin?" Larabee asked quietly. His face bore no expression.

Clearly the atmosphere in the room had changed in an instant.

Tanner lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. It wasn't something he liked to think on, and he hadn't realized that it might be that obvious. Shaking his head at the thought he smiled a little before raising his head again. Probably wasn't something that any normal folks would pick up on. But then again, his relationship with Chris Larabee wasn't exactly normal, in any sense of the word.

"Reckon it was about three years," he replied quietly. "Give or take..."

Chris nodded his head in understanding. He'd guessed before that Vin had spent some time in an orphanage at one time or another. Just the way he spoke about certain things had tipped Chris off. His dislike of crowded places, and being uncomfortable when people lost their temper. Vin's desire for solitude wasn't exclusively based in his character alone either. Sometimes the things you wish for the most are the things you could never get.

"And then you left?"

Tanner nodded his head in reply. There was another long silence. "Followed a trapper inta the mountains. Overseers couldn't find me there... Stumbled upon a tribe while I was out there...decided ta stay a while... they treated me like I was ... important."

Chris listened to the words and tried to envision the childhood his friend was describing. In some ways it was so very different from his own, yet he couldn't help but feel the similarities they shared. Losing your mother at any age is extremely traumatizing to a young child. And just because Chris had a living father didn't mean the man was around when his son needed him.

"You gonna handle this alright?"

"Yeah," Tanner answered quickly. "That Mrs. Crestwell seems to care about them kids. Like they was hers or somethin'." The happiness in his voice was clear, and Larabee was curious about the change in temperament.

Yet he knew Vin spoke the truth. Even before they had gotten back to town, Ruth Crestwell showed great concern for all her young charges. "You noticed that too?"

"Sure did, Chris," Tanner turned and looked at the gunslinger. "She's got her hands full but she don't take it out on the young'ens none."

Chris and Vin looked at each other for a long moment. An understanding passed between them in that instant and neither man could deny the event. Each man lowered his head at the same time. The thoughts going through each man's mind would have to stay just that... thoughts. Subjects like this weren't spoken of.

"Can some one please enlighten me as to how long these ... children will be occupying our little community?" Standish asked as he came through the door. It was obvious to Chris and Vin that he was not his usual calm, cool self.

"Somethin' wrong, Ezra?" Larabee asked with the slight hint of humor in his voice.

Vin got up and observed the untidy manner in which the gambler was dressed. "Did one of them kids sleep in ya clothes, Ezra. Ain't like ya ta be all fussed up this...?" The tracker looked at Chris and then back to Ezra. He circled the southerner and frowned. "...This early in the mornin'... One of them kids fell asleep in ya feather bed then. That's why you ain't in it."

"No, Mr. Tanner. On both hypothesis." Standish straightened his collar and cuffs and turned his attention back to Chris. "You do have an answer for me, Mr. Larabee. Please say you do."

The gunslinger wiped the smirk off his face and got to his feet. "You know Mrs. Crestwell wired her husband Saturday night when we got back ta town."

"Her husband?" the gambler repeated.

"Seems he's the administrator for this new orphanage that's been set up in Bitter Creek."

The light of understanding shone in Ezra's eyes.

"Reply said he's got somethin' in mind, but it'll take time ta plan. Sounds like it'll be a few days... if not more."

The sparkle in the gambler's eyes slowly dimmed. "Well," he miffed as he turned back for the door. "Any assistance I can render in getting these particular... small packages to their destination..." opening the door, he turned and smiled. "Please let me know," he concluded as he closed the door behind him.

There was another long silence.

"And it's only the second morning," the tracker said coyly.

Given the escapades they had gone through yesterday, neither man quite knew if that was funny... or not.

"Did you ever see such a flurry of activity?" the preacher asked of Jackson as he joined him on the saloon porch.

"No," the healer shook his head. "Reckon not," he concluded as he pulled up a chair and sat next to Sanchez. "And sounds like gettin' 'em their lunch wasn't exactly a picnic either."

All Josiah could do was smirk. It had been something of an ordeal to get the children to eat after two of the boys started a near riot by saying they found worms in their sandwiches.

As they looked up and down the street, they could see different groups of children playing. A group of boys were playing marbles on the boardwalk down by the hotel. Rebecca Potter was skipping rope in front of the church with some of the girls.

Nathan spotted Chris sitting outside the restaurant in his customary position for this time of the day. He always did try to get some reading done after lunch. It was a little noisier than most afternoons, but the gunslinger seemed to be managing quite nicely. "You reckon he's actually readin' that book, or just actin' like it?"

Josiah peered across the street and smiled. "Only he knows the answer to that question my friend."

Jackson shook his head. He glanced back and forth between Larabee and Sanchez. He didn't know who was more frustrating sometimes. The man who could put on airs so smoothly that no one could tell what he was up to, or the man who could avoid a simple question so smoothly that people forgot why they asked it in the first place.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Standish offered as he joined his fellow peacekeepers and pulled up a chair.

"Was that Mrs. Wells I saw relieving you, Mr. Jackson?"

"Yep," the healer replied. "Mr. Birch is sleepin' again..."

"Thank the lord for your blessings, Nathan," the preacher commented.

The healer smirked at Josiah's remark. Sanchez had heard the man's continuous complaints during his watch last night.

"Webb still ain't come too, but I asked Miss Nettie ta keep a close eye on him. I think it'll be soon." There was a long pause as another group of children went running past. The simple game of tag seemed to be keeping them out of trouble. "Least wise I hope it will be soon."

"Keep the faith, brother."

Jackson bowed his head and nodded it slowly.

The calmness of their exchange was interrupted by a high pitched scream coming from across the street. Another long scream followed close behind, then a third.

"Good lord," Ezra muttered, as he got to his feet, "not again."

Wondering what exactly the gambler meant by his comments, Jackson and Sanchez exchanged a quick glance before following Standish into the street. Another scream sounded and the three men turned towards the bathhouse. Larabee was already on his feet and approaching the same position. Tanner was joining them from the sheriff's office.

As the gunslinger reached the bathhouse, five boys ran out of the alleyway and into the group of men as they met up. Each man took hold of a boy and looked around at the anxious faces. At that moment, Mrs. Armstrong came out of the establishment and took a deep breath.

"Is that all of them, Mr. Larabee?" she asked angrily, as she placed her hands on her hips.

Frances Armstrong and her husband Joseph had run the bathhouse for several years and they had never had anything of this nature happen.

"What seems ta be the problem, Ma'am?" Josiah asked as he looked down at the young man in his grasp.

Caleb Henderson looked up at the big man and glared. Getting caught doing this was gonna be bad enough. Getting caught by the preacher was just gonna be ten times worse.

"As you gentlemen are well aware, Monday and Thursday afternoon at our establishment is reserved for the ladies of our community."

All of the men realized exactly what the proprietress was about to say. They looked down at the boys and tried to maintain an air of authority without smirking. After all, they were that age once too.

"I have some very upset patrons inside, gentlemen. These boys were spotted lifting the curtains at several of the windows."

"Good heavens," Mrs. Crestwell exclaimed as she joined the group and heard the last of the conversation. With her hand across her mouth she joined Mrs. Armstrong on the boardwalk and looked at the boys sternly.

"If Mr. Webb were here boys, I would refer this disgusting display to his judgement." The matron looked across at Larabee and raised an eyebrow.

Taking his direction from the woman, Chris continued. "But since he ain't able ta take care of this right now," he said roughly as he pulled Buddy Evans by his collar. "Mind if we take care of this, Mrs. Armstrong."

The woman huffed loudly, "Take care of it, Mr. Larabee. See to it that this doesn't happen again." Giving the boys one last disdainful look, the woman stormed off back inside her establishment.

"Well, now..." Tanner looked about at the boys, then cast his eyes down at Matthew Potter. "What say we head on down ta the sheriff's office and have us a ... n i c e l i t t l e t a l k."

Five peacekeepers and five nervous boys all made their way down toward the jail.

A lone horse entered town and slowly made its way down the main street towards the livery. The rider looked around town in amazement, unable to believe the activity going on about her. The last time Rain was here, things hadn't been so... lively.

"Welcome, Miss Rain," Dunne called out as he stepped off the boardwalk. All of the peacekeepers had known to expect the woman sometime today.

The bewilderment was clear in the woman's eyes as the kid noticed, then looked around at the children. "We're ... eh..."

"Helping baby-sit these young'ens for a few days," Buck finished the kid's sentence, then moved to assist the lady down as she came to a stop at the livery.

"Now there's a sight for sore eyes," the healer called down as he came outside. Smiling at his lady he descended the stairs and picked her up in his arms. The couple exchanged a brief kiss, then took a few moments to gaze into one another's eyes.

A small group of girls over at the church broke the silence as they giggled and laughed at the display they had just witnessed.

Blushing slightly at the children's reaction, Rain asked the obvious question, "What is going on here, Nathan?"

Jackson looked at the lady and smiled. Brushing the hair away from her eyes he covered the few steps back to her horse. "Let's get you settled and I'll fill you in on everything." He started to unhook her things from the saddle as Rain looked around again.

"It must be an interesting story that you have to tell."

Buck and JD both looked at each other questioningly as they head up the street. After only two full days of being in the children's company, 'interesting' was not the first word they would have used.

Caleb Henderson looked about carefully before signaling for the other boys to follow him from the alley outside the town laundry. No one seemed to be tending to the two baskets of freshly washed clothes perched on the stools. It looked as though someone was readying to hang them on the line, but there were no pegs in sight.

Very carefully, Buddy picked up the nearest basket and handed it to Matthew Potter. Matt wasn't privy to what they had planned, but he was beginning to suspect that he wouldn't like it anyway. And after yesterday's incident at the bathhouse ... he didn't need to get into anymore trouble.

Hugh Wylie acted as lookout while Caleb lifted the first stool off the ground. The remaining boys slipped rocks under each leg. Very carefully, Caleb balanced the stool on top of the rocks, then just as carefully took the basket from Matt and perched it back in its original position. Giggling at the precarious nature of their monument, they were about to repeat the undertaking with the second basket when they heard voices approaching.

Darting back to the alley, the five boys watched as two Chinese women came out of the laundry and approached the stools.

Snickering, the boys watched apprehensively as the farthest lady set a bucket of pegs on the ground and reached into her basket of clothes. The women were busy conversing in their native tongue as the second lady copied her companion's move. The horrified look on her face was unmistakable, as her basket of clean wash pitched and fell to the dirty ground.

Each woman let out a shrill as the catastrophe happened, then looked at each other in shock. As they contemplated the work they would now have to repeat they heard the giggling coming from the alley and looked over to see shadowy figures running away. Realization hit hard as the women recognized that they had been the targets of a practical joke.

"Welcome back, Mr. Webb," Nathan smiled for his patient then stepped aside so the man could see a little of his surroundings. The healer turned to Casey Wells. "Go see if you can find Mrs. Crestwell," he directed. "I reckon our friend here could stand ta see a familiar face."

The faint hint of understanding was written on the man's face as Jackson sat back down. He poured some water into a cup as he spoke. "Yeah, you heard me right. That Mrs. Crestwell sure is somethin'. And you sure did get a nasty bump on yer head."

Jake tried to speak as Nathan lifted his shoulders so he could sip from the cup. As the man winced from some hidden pain, the healer rethought his actions. "Now hold on now. I don't know all what's wrong with ya yet, but you need to drink some 'a this before you go tryin' 'a speak any. No words is gonna find their way past a dried out throat."

Webb nodded his head slowly, then took two long drinks from the cup. He let the second one sit in his mouth as Nathan settled him back on his pillow.

"Now then... You got a pretty nasty bump on your head and some deep bruises. But I need ta know how you feel?"

Jake Webb nodded his affirmative answer and swallowed the water. He understood the healer's words but he had a few questions on his mind that were a little more important. "How ... long?" he whispered. His voice was as cracked as his parched throat was.

"Well let's see," Jackson began. "Reckon that wagon rolled late afternoon Saturday. It's just before noon on Tuesday."

Jake nodded his head. "The children?"

"Now don't you go worrying yerself about them. They's raising a little ruckus around this here town, but they're all fine. Mrs. Crestwell has found herself a few helpin' hands here abouts."

"Henry... Mitch?"

Nathan lowered his head before answering. Lifting only his eyes he passed on the bad news. "I'm afraid yer friend Henry Rogers is dead, Mr. Webb. He was already gone when I got ta him... I'm sorry."

Jake closed his eyes for a second to absorb the news, then opened them quickly when he realized he had only received half an answer.

Seeing the anxious look in his patient's eyes, Nathan quickly concluded his report. "Mr. Birch is over there sleeping," he indicated to his own big bed in the center of the room. "He's got two pretty busted up legs, but I set 'em best I know how. He'll walk again, but no time soon."

The door opened at that moment and Ruth Crestwell came in. Casey followed close behind and closed the door. "Oh, thank the lord," the woman praised as she walked towards her friend. "And you, of course, Mr. Jackson."

"Ma'am," Nathan acknowledged the woman's words as he moved out the way. "Why don't you have a quick word with Mr. Webb while I go fix up some broth."

Ruth nodded her head and sat down to talk with her trusted companion.

"Casey," the healer directed his attention to the girl, "can you stay a little longer until I get back?"

"Sure, Nathan. Inez and Annie ain't expecting me in the kitchen fer another hour."

"Good," he replied as he gathered his hat. Opening the door, he glanced at Jake Webb again and smiled. "Won't be long," he quipped happily as he departed.

Casey understood the healer's excitement. He usually got this way when he knew a patient was going to be okay. Looking back at the man lying on the cot, the young girl nodded her head and duplicated Jackson's grin. Things were looking up.

A very large pot hung over a small open fire outside the exchange, and Inez served out beans to each of the children who presented their bowls to her to fill. At the table beside the stairs Nettie Wells watched as the children took one or two biscuits. Rain served water to those who wanted some, and Casey was helping to make sure all the children found a good spot to sit and eat their supper.

Seven peacekeepers stood around at various vantage points observing the impromptu picnic at the end of their main street. Mary Travis stood close to her blond gentleman writing in her notebook.

"They all seemed to be fairly well behaved, Mrs. Crestwell. How do you explain yesterday afternoon's ... events?"

Ruth Crestwell turned to the woman who stood beside her and smiled. "You have a child, Mrs. Travis. You know they can get into mischief once in a while," she answered. "Especially when they are not directly supervised," she quickly added. She was doing her best in the worst of situations, but one matron can only be in so many places at once.

"Perhaps that might explain the mud fight this morning, but do you have anything to say about the incident at the bathhouse?"

"Boys will be boys!" the gunslinger exclaimed as he shifted position and smiled at the two ladies.

The matron gave the gunslinger a knowing glance before looking at the newspaperwoman again. "As Mr. Larabee so adequately points out, Mrs. Travis, they are growing boys... As I'm sure the mothers' of your two town boys will tell you. We, of course, discourage this sort of activity among our children. Now while that doesn't excuse... or explain their behavior, Mrs. Travis, I do hope you will again accept my sincere apology for any embarrassment they may have caused you and your friends yesterday."

Larabee turned away from the ladies to hide the smirk on his face.

"If you will excuse me," the matron smiled again as she walked away from Mary. Covering the few steps between her and Chris, she leaned up to whisper to the taller man. "And I do hope you said more than 'boys will be boys' to those young men, Mr. Larabee," she said quietly as she passed by.

The gunslinger tipped his hat to the matron as she joined Inez at the cook pot.

Mary Travis looked at Chris quickly; the implication of embarrassment was enough to redden her cheeks. Facing a grinning gunslinger was too much for her to handle and she quickly made he way up the street.

"And just what was all of that about," Wilmington asked as he sidled up to his oldest friend. He'd seen Mary's face flush and the smirk Chris was trying desperately to hide.

Larabee straightened his shoulders and wiped the smile from his face. "Mrs. Crestwell was just making another apology to Mrs. Travis."

Buck did his best to keep from smiling himself, but being the man he was, failed miserably in the attempt. "Don't suppose we should bring that up too often."

"I reckon...not," the gunslinger agreed as he looked around at the children.

"These young'ens sure can get inta mischief, Chris. Don't reckon we can handle too many days like the last three."

Wilmington was waiting for some sort of response, but received none. He looked over at his leader, then followed his gaze to two children sitting alone at the far end of the porch.

"Somethin' wrong, Chris?"

Again there was no reply.

Wilmington looked at the two children again. A more purposeful examination provided Wilmington with a possible answer. He could see why his friend might be engrossed by what he saw. The young blond boy was probably about as close a match for Adam Larabee as the ladies man had ever seen. Buck's expression wavered as he suddenly became concerned for his oldest friend.

"Chris," he called again. "Chris."

Realizing he had been lost in thought the gunslinger turned to look at Buck. He became very self-conscious of the fact that his oldest friend could tell what had been going though his mind and turned away.

Buck lowered his head, then set a hand on Larabee's shoulder as he looked around to see if anyone was watching. "You alright, partner," he asked quietly. The concern was clear in his tone.

Taking a moment to regain his composure, the gunslinger nodded his head, acknowledging both the question and the concern.

Wilmington patted his friend's shoulder before returning his arm to his side. The two men smiled at each other for a moment, but once again the significance of the situation was lost as a group of the young girls let out a chorus of screams.

On the far side of the children, Ezra Standish held his head in his hand, then raised his eyes to the heavens. "Lord, have mercy," he beckoned out loud as a splattering of beans landed on his coat. Looking down at the spot as it stretched itself into a streak; the southerner looked about at the maze of children throwing food at one another. "Divine Intervention would be good too," he uttered as he shook his head then joined his fellow adults in their attempts to extinguish the ensuing chaos.