Small Packages

By: TJ

Wednesday morning found Mrs. Crestwell breathing a sigh of relief. Another wire from her husband indicated that three wagons and five drivers would soon be on their way to gather the party of stranded travelers. Seven peacekeepers, five ladies, and a whole group of townsfolk joined in the matron's relief.

Buck Wilmington walked into the sheriff's office scratching the back of his neck as he customarily did when he was thinking. Chris had seen that look too many times before and he smiled at his friend as he set his weapon down. "What's wrong," the gunslinger asked as he wiped some gun oil from his hands.

The ladies man looked at his leader, confusion written all over his face. "Yosemite says there's a bunch of the feed pails missing. Wanted to know if I knew anythin' about it."

Not quite sure who would run off with a bunch of feed pails, Larabee's expression matched that of his friend. "Can't say I can help ya there," he answered slowly.

"I disagree, Mr. Dunne," Standish argued as the pair came through the jailhouse door.

"There ain't no way ta do it, Ezra."

"Do what?" the blond asked as he wiped down his pistols.

"Cover the distance between here and Bitter Creek any faster," the kid attempted to clarify. "Ezra here thinks they should be able ta do it in less than five days."

Wilmington looked at the gambler curiously. "You haven't grown tired of the little angels yet, have ya, Ezra?"

The indignant look Standish graced the ladies man with was more than Dunne could handle. He smirked loudly and departed quickly before the gambler could direct his attention his way.

"Have you seen what your 'angels' are up to this morning, Mr. Wilmington?"

Glancing back at Larabee, Buck shook his head no then gazed out the door JD had left open. He watched for a minute. He listened for a minute. "I don't hear nothin' out a' the ordinary," he finally said.

The gambler huffed loudly. "Exactly my point. They are up to something, Mr. Wilmington, and no one seems to understand what."

The gunslinger frowned.

Wilmington huffed back in Ezra's face. "Well, maybe you and me should find out what it is they's doin'."

"Now that sounds like a good idea," Larabee commented as he holstered his pistols. "Why don't you two go investigate." Chris was enjoying the show he was being treated to. The amusement was clear on his face.

Waving the way clear for the gambler to exit first, Wilmington was right on his heels. As they emerged from the sheriff's office several large pails of water were thrown at them from several different directions. Another volley of liquid struck its target before a scurry of feet signaled that the perpetrators were disappearing down the street. Giggling and laughing as they went.

Larabee emerged slowly from their office and took great pains to examine his men slowly. Encircling the two drenched men, he stopped in front of them and took a deep breath. "Angels hmmm ... maybe Ezra's right, Buck... may not be exactly the word I would use to describe them," he mused. Presenting Wilmington and Standish with his, all too elusive, magnificent Larabee smile, the gunslinger headed on down the street.

Standish looked down at his dripping wet attire then slowly lifted his head to look at the ladies man. "There are not too many occasions when I have the opportunity to agree... completely... with Mr. Larabee," he paused to wipe the drops of water from his face. "But on this occasion, Mr. Wilmington, I find myself in such a position." The gambler took a step forward. "If you will excuse me."

Buck watched in silence as Standish departed. Somehow he'd expected more of a ... 'volatile' reaction from the gambler and silently he wondered if it was still to come. Removing his hat, the ladies man wiped his brow then looked up and down the street at the townsfolk who had stopped to admire the children's handiwork. Giving them his best smile, he headed to his room to find some dry clothes.

Chris sat outside the sheriff's office and watched the abundance of activity that had already marked day four with the orphans in Four Corners. It wasn't that the kids were all naughty, although there were definitely a few bad apples. The majority of the problems that cropped up were when the kids decided to be kids. Just so happened that because there were so many of them, the incidents were disproportionate in the severity. A mud fight or a food fight between a few kids was funny. Throw in another two and a half dozen children ... well, it just wasn't that funny any more.

Larabee was distracted from his day dreaming by the little boy that he had seen last night. Chris averted his eyes, but found himself wanting to look back. He slowly raised his head as Patricia and Phillip walked passed him. "Hi," the gunslinger said quietly.

The young girl stopped and looked at her brother questioningly. The boy stepped back and took his sister's hand.

"My name's Chris," the gunslinger said quickly. He smiled for the children trying to show them he meant no harm.

Neither child made any attempt to return the offered smile. Phillip tugged on his sister's hand and she turned and followed her brother as they continued on down the boardwalk.

"Bye," Larabee said solemnly. As he watched them go on their way, Chris wondered why the two never smiled during their brief encounter. Truth be told, he was more than a little curious about their whole demeanor. He looked up and down the street to see if he could spot the matron. She would be able to answer his questions.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rain questioned the healer as he put some things in the buckboard he'd borrowed from Mrs. Travis.

"Course I'm sure. Don't you think it's a good idea?"

"I do understand your reasons, Nathan."

Jackson stopped what he was doing and looked at the lovely lady. Moving to wrap his arms around her waist, he smiled softly and kissed her once. "It's gonna be a beautiful afternoon, Rain. Let's give these kids somethin' ta remember before they get shipped ta the next territory."

The woman bowed her head as she considered Jackson's words.

"I do hope you two are not planning this kind of display when you are alone with the children," Ruth commented as she appeared from down the street. Robert, Georgia and Hope followed closely on her heels.

"Oh, no ma'am," Nathan replied as he let go of Rain and put a little distance between them. "We was just plannin' the day."

The matron smiled at Rain, before turning her attention back to the children. "They all wish to accompany you for the afternoon, Mr. Jackson."

"Well that is wonderful news," Rain added to the conversation.

"Yeah," Nathan said enthusiastically, as he turned his attention to the children. "We're gonna go out ta the local pond. Have a picnic. Do a little swimmin'... maybe some fishin'. How does that sound?"

Georgia and Hope smiled broadly and nodded their heads in agreement, while Robert looked at Rain suspiciously.

"Is this yer Mrs.?"

"No," the healer stepped in front of the boy and knelt down to look into his eyes. "But maybe... someday," he whispered quietly then smiled coyly to the boy.

Robert looked seriously at Jackson before breaking into a brilliant, beautiful smile. "Can we go right now?" he questioned.

Before Nathan could answer, the boy ran to the back of the buckboard and jumped on. Georgia and Hope were right behind him.

"Have a good day, Mr. Jackson," the matron said as she smiled at the healer. "And ... thank you."

"We will, ma'am," Nathan replied as he helped Rain onto the seat, then moved around to the other side. He climbed aboard then looked back at the three children. "All set?"

All three youngsters nodded their heads in anticipation of what lay ahead of them.

"And Mrs. Crestwell," the healer called out as he took up the reins.

The matron looked back at the man curiously.

"Thank you," Jackson said before setting the horses in motion.

As she watched the rig move off down the street, Ruth Crestwell shook her head and wondered if she was looking at a scene that one day might come to pass.

As Wednesday evening beckoned in the fading light, Mary Travis looked down the street in search of her favorite blond. She hadn't seen the gunslinger since before lunch and was seriously beginning to wonder as to his whereabouts. Spotting Buck on the jailhouse porch, Mary decided to inquire with the ladies man if he knew where Chris was.

As the newspaperwoman walked down the boardwalk, she waved to Nathan and Rain as they drove passed. She smiled at the couple and their three young charges. It was clear from the look on all five faces that they had, indeed, had a wonderful day.

Mary watched as Luke Robertson and JD Dunne scooted a group of youngsters towards the exchange. Supper was just about ready, and it seemed to be taking more and more time to round all of the children up as the days went by. JD and Luke appeared to be working well as a team. Dunne appeared to be encouraging Robertson to be more assertive, while the young man seemed to bring out JD's quieter, gentler side. Mrs. Travis smiled again at the pair as she arrived at the jail.

"Evening, Mrs. Travis."

The widow smiled briefly at the ladies man and started to say something, but the words were lost on her.

"Somethin' wrong, Mary?" Wilmington wasn't usually this forward, but he could tell the woman was unsettled.

"Have you seen Mr. Larabee, Buck?"

The ladies man got to his feet, shaking his head all the while. "No ma'am... come ta think of it, I ain't seen 'im since this mornin'."

"Yes," Mary agreed. "I haven't seen him since then either. Did he say anything?"

Buck pursed his lips together. "No, ma'am, not that I know of. I was just headed down ta the church though. I can ask around."

Mrs. Travis nodded her head in acknowledgement of the man's offer. She could see that she had raised some suspicion in the ladies man too. It wasn't like the gunslinger to just wander off without telling someone where he was going. Not of late, anyway.

Buck tipped his hat to the widow as he departed.

And as she watched the tall man go, Mary Travis wondered again, how a man like Larabee could just up and disappear.

Vin Tanner was consulting with Ruth Crestwell in front of the church when Thursday morning rolled around. After temporarily taking over the role of leader, the tracker figured it was about time that they located their wayward gunslinger. Tanner nodded his thank you to the matron then headed for the stable.

"She know anything," Wilmington asked as he met Vin half way and walked with him.

"She says he was askin' 'bout them twins yesterday."

"The blond boy and his sister?"

Vin stopped and looked at Wilmington. "You know somethin' about 'em."

Buck lowered his head before raising it slowly. "Just know that boy reminds Chris 'a Adam something awful."

"His son?" the tracker asked quickly.

"Yeah... why?"

Tanner pressed his lips tightly together as they arrived at the livery. He motioned for Yosemite to saddle their horses and stood silently shaking his head.

"What is it, Vin?"

The tracker didn't answer.

"Vin!"

Tanner took a deep breath before turning to face the larger man. He looked at Buck intently before speaking. "That boy and his sister lost their parents in a fire. The boy's got some bad scars... neither of 'em's spoke ta nobody since it happened...more than years ago."

Buck's eyes became wide as he realized the implications of what his fellow peacekeeper had just said. "Mrs. Crestwell told Chris the whole story?"

The tracker only nodded his head.

Wilmington was clearly agitated. He rubbed his hands across his face then removed his hat. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked at the tracker. "Vin... let me handle this."

"I'm gonna ride out ta his place and see if he's there."

Wilmington grabbed Tanner by the arm and spun him around. Vin could see a deep pain in Buck's eyes and realized he might need to back off on this one.

There weren't a lot of things the ladies man could be accused of taking seriously in life, but his fourteen year friendship with Chris Larabee was one of them. They'd seen each other through the best of the good times and the worst of some very bad times. There was no way Wilmington could compare his sense of loss to the husband and father who had lost his wife and son, but the ladies man still felt some responsibility for that awful night some six years ago.

Buck understood the hint of recognition in his friend's eyes the other night when he looked at Phillip Johnson. Listening to the description that Mrs. Crestwell had just offered Vin, Wilmington could only guess at the reaction Chris would have had. It was no wonder the man had up and disappeared. Some wounds took longer to heal than others, and Buck was determined to help in any way he could. "I'll go," was all he said to Tanner before he turned and walked to his horse.

Vin watched the ladies man mount up, thank Yosemite, then ride on out. He said nothing as he surveyed the actions. He made no attempt to object... or to stop his friend. In those few, brief seconds that he had looked into Buck's eyes, Vin had absorbed the knowledge that he couldn't comprehend fully what Buck and Chris had shared. He understood unequivocally, that this was not his place.

"Glad ta see you're out 'a bed, Mr. Webb," Luke Robertson offered as Nathan helped him to the chair on the balcony.

"Thanks, Luke," Webb replied as he winced in pain.

"See now," Nathan said, as he let go of his patient. "I told ya them ribs 'a yours is pretty busted up. I'll let ya sit out here for a while, but not too long... ya hear?"

Webb nodded his head then pulled his arms in tight to support his rib cage. It wasn't until he had come to, and could identify the pain, that the healer had been able to fully diagnosis the extent of his injuries. He wasn't sure he understood the word 'concussion', but he knew all to well what broken ribs meant. Jackson had him trussed up like a mummy, but it still hurt like hell.

"Alright then," Jackson said. "I'll be back in a bit."

"You want anythin', Mr. Webb," the boy offered after the healer had left them alone.

"No. Thank you, Luke." Jake caught site of some of the youngsters as they ran down the street and around the church. "Tell me the truth now, boy. Everything all right with the children?"

Luke nodded his head again, then looked out over the balcony. "The sheriffs' in this town are real good, Mr. Webb. They got some real nice ladies here too. Ain't none of the kids gotten into trouble."

Webb cleared his throat. He could tell when kids were lying to him. He called it a gift. The kids called it ... something worse.

"Well, Hugh's got himself inta trouble a couple 'a times."

There was a long silence.

"And some of the boys have been playing tricks."

There was another long silence.

"Nothing too serious, though," the boy concluded.

"Well that sounds bad enough ta me," the man responded as he shifted position.

"Oh no, Mr. Webb. The kids have been good...really."

Off in the distance there was a loud crash, several women screamed, then there was a flurry of activity as people cleared the concourse. The team from the stagecoach came charging down the center of the street and headed out 'a town. The rig they normally pulled was nowhere to be seen.

Several men on foot tried to catch the horses as they went. A few seconds later another group of men galloped out of town on horseback. They were intent on catching the escaping team.

Luke Robertson slowly looked back at Jake Webb. Seeing the disbelieving look on his boss's face he shrugged his shoulder and grimaced. "Well..." was all he could say.

Mary Travis stood on the boardwalk and watched Billy playing checkers with his new friend. It was such a treat for her son to have children his own age to play with. And the small group that he'd been interacting with were some of the quieter children, so Mary didn't worry as much about him getting into trouble.

"You two better finish up that game soon. I know it's getting close to lunch and everyone will be gathering to eat."

"You think I can eat with Johnny today, ma?"

"Oh, I don't know, Billy. Mrs. Henderson and Inez have got lots of mouths to feed. I don't think they need another one."

"Ah, ma!"

"Well," Mary replied as she ran her hands through her son's hair. "Let me see what I can do."

Two excited youngsters exchanged happy smiles as the widow headed towards the sheriff's office. The tracker distracted her as he came outside and looked up and down the street. Removing his hat, he brushed his fingers through his hair then set his hat further back on his head than usual.

"And that look tells me something is not right, Mr. Tanner."

Surprised by the arrival of the widow, Vin straightened his hat.

"Mornin', ma'am."

"Don't you try and hide behind your manners, Vin Tanner. You tell me what you know ... right this instant."

Feeling like one of the youngsters that had been a constant presence for the last five days, the tracker looked at the widow apprehensively.

Mary studied the man's eyes and could see his concern. "What is it, Vin?"

The tracker lowered his head, then glanced at the chairs behind him. Stepping back, he offered Mary a seat, waited till she was settled then seated himself down beside her. He took a deep breath then looked at the woman once more. He resigned himself to the fact that Mary Travis needed to know what was going on with Chris. Lowering his head again briefly he began to relate the facts as he knew them.

Buck had been at Larabee's place for over an hour and still hadn't seen the man. Letting Darling loose in the corral with Diablo, the ladies man had settled himself on the fence and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally becoming annoyed he jumped down and cussed under his breath. He was about to yell at the man in his shack when the door opened slowly. There was a long pause before Chris finally appeared then sat in a porch chair. He knew Buck was there all right, but he never looked up at his friend.

Wilmington closed his eyes and lowered his head. This was his usual, practiced ritual before confronting the gunslinger, yet today was different. Today he wasn't trying to sober a drunken partner or talk him out of a bad idea. No! Today Buck was here to be the friend he knew he could be, to the man he considered his oldest, and closest friend.

Chris heard the ladies man make his way across the yard, step onto the porch and take up the chair beside him. There was a long pause before either man spoke.

"You comin' back ta town any time soon?" Wilmington asked.

There was another long silence.

"Ya know we's out numbered anyways. Losin' even one man seriously reduces our efficiency."

And yet another long silence fell between the men.

"You been takin' talkin' lesson from Ezra again?" Larabee finally spoke.

The ladies man smirked out loud then took another deep breath. "You alright, Chris?"

"No!"

"You need ta talk about this."

The gunslinger huffed loudly and straightened in his chair. "Ta who... you?"

Larabee watched as his friend looked at him coldly then turned away. For the brief second that their eyes had met, Chris had thought he saw hurt on the man's face and he began to realize exactly why his oldest friend had come out to talk to him. "I know you understand the way I feel, Buck." The gunslinger looked away and pressed his lips together hard. "I know you ... you loved them too."

Wilmington could only nodded his head at the words.

"But these feelin' ain't for you, Buck. They aren't for Mary or Vin... Hell, they ain't for nobody but me."

The men sat for a time just understanding each other's need for the time and space. Chris sat with his eyes closed while Buck watched their horses nipping at each other.

"What about the boy?" the ladies man finally said.

Larabee furrowed his brow. "What...?"

"Talk to the boy, Chris. His name is Phillip."

"I know," the gunslinger replied quickly.

"Then talk to him, Chris... Tell him how you feel. He's probably got the same feeling bottled up inside 'a him and he ain't got no way 'a lettin' 'em out."

Larabee looked at his friend questioningly. What the man was saying made sense, and slowly Chris began to nod his head in recognition of that simple fact.

Seeing that his words were beginning to make an impression, the ladies man decided he'd better leave and let his friend think on them a while. Standing up, he was about to head to the corral when Larabee stood up.

"Buck," he said quietly.

"Yeah," the ladies man answered, turning around.

"Thanks!" Chris held out his hand and the two men locked forearms.

As Wilmington made his way back into town he noticed the remaining peacekeepers encircling the bathhouse. He smiled to himself as he realized Vin Tanner had organized a guard so that the ladies of their community could take their afternoon bath without fear of a repeat of Monday's incident. Tipping his hat to the tracker as he passed on by, Buck signaled his success with Larabee by nodding his head.

Vin understood the message he had received and straightened his stance as a group of youngsters went running by.

Reining his horse in at the stable, the ladies man dismounted and handed the horse off to Yosemite. Turning around, he caught site of Tom Blanchard coming out of the telegraph office with a very worried look on his face. Buck immediately headed in that direction and the man met him in the middle of the street.

"What wrong, Mr. Blanchard?"

"The Key is missing, Mr. Wilmington. I went to the restaurant to get some coffee and when I came back it was missing."

Understanding the importance of the telegraph Key, Buck knew this was a serious matter. Without this simple instrument they couldn't send messages. And if they couldn't send messages... "Don't you have a spare?"

The man nodded his head. "That's gone too. They took it right out of the desk drawer."

Buck took a deep breath. "You go back and look around, Tom. Double check everythin' ta be sure."

Blanchard nodded his head in compliance then returned to his office as quickly as he had come.

Taking one more deep breath, Wilmington stormed off up the street, fit to be tied. The peacekeepers had endured five days of general mayhem and practical jokes, but this was serious business. The telegraph Key was their lifeline to other communities. They needed it back and Buck aimed to see that they got it back... and quickly.

Larabee rode in to town late in the afternoon. Looking around, he wondered why it could possible be so quiet. As he neared the livery, he could see a group of the smaller children, playing in and around the church, but none of the older youths were around. Standish was close by, with Luke Robertson at his side. The two were smiling and conversing. The gunslinger couldn't help but recognize the fact that this was the happiest he'd seen the southerner all week.

Seeing as how Buck's 'angel's' hadn't ... quite lived up to that description, Ezra had taken it upon himself to given the group another 'title'. The southerner had dubbed the visiting youngsters as 'Small Packages', because they still needed to be delivered to their final destination. Chris suspected it was the gambler's way of referring to the most innocent of the group. Even Four years ago, back in the Seminole Village, Standish had shown his aptitude with the children, yet Ezra drew the line at the mischievous activities of some of the older youths.

Dismounting, Larabee handed Diablo off to Yosemite and looked around curiously. Sanchez and Dunne stood outside the exchange and raised their hands in greeting, as Chris looked their way. Reciprocating the gesture, the gunslinger frowned. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that he had missed. That thought occupied his mind as he headed down the street to the sheriff's office.

Vin Tanner exited the jail quickly as Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Henderson, and Mrs. Crestwell made their way inside. There was just no way he wanted any part of what was about to happen inside and the relieved expression on his face was what Larabee saw as he arrived.

"Did I just see...?"

"Yep," the tracker replied before the blond could finish. He leaned against the support beam and shifted the hat on his head. Gazing around town, he tried not to think about the activity in the jail.

"You wanna....?"

"No!"

Closing his eyes for a brief second, the gunslinger shook his head and smiled. He had exhausted all his options before he even got started, and that wasn't hard to do where Vin was concerned. The lean tracker just had a way about him sometimes, and Chris knew better than to press him. Larabee figured the real trouble arose from the fact that they were just too much alike for their own good.

A mystified expression crept across the blond's face as he remembered a conversation he'd had in this very spot, with a feisty old lady, about this very same thing. The resulting grin was nothing less than an admission of the truth. Trouble was, he'd never find the courage to admit one single word of that truth to anyone. Larabee smiled at his closest friend before heading into the sheriff's office.

Buck was sitting behind the desk when Chris entered. They acknowledged each other's presence with simultaneous nods of their heads, and then Larabee focused on the ladies at the bars. Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Henderson stood outside the first cell talking quietly to each other. Their respective sons sat inside the cell wondering what was to come. While Matthew Potter looked to be in a state of utter disbelief, Caleb Henderson appeared slightly more defiant.

Mrs. Crestwell stood in front of the second cell quietly counseling three of her charges. The way she shook her head told Chris that she was extremely disappointed in them, and he wondered again what had gone on while he had been gone. Frowning, the gunslinger motioned for Wilmington to follow him outside, and a grinning ladies man complied happily. He needed an excuse to vacate the room when the women came in, but Vin had beat him to it.

Closing the door behind them, Buck noticed the tracker was long gone. Looking around he smiled before turning to face Larabee. "Tanner sure let out 'a there quick enough... reckon he's about a mile out 'a town by now."

Chris didn't react to the words even though he knew it would be close to being the truth. He was more concerned with the situation that existed. "You mind tellin' me what the hell went on here while I was gone?"

Wilmington thought on his best choice of words before opening his mouth. "Suppose them boys was aiming for it ta be another one of their practical jokes..." Buck pursed his lips and looked seriously at his friend. "I choose ta call it stealin' when it's somethin' as important as the telegraph Keys."

With eyebrows raised, Larabee recognized what Buck was saying. He took a seat and looked up expectantly in anticipation of the rest of the story.

Friday proved to be the quietest day in town in the past week. Under Buck's direction, the older boys were still sequestered in the exchange. It was their punishment for not notifying the peacekeepers of the impending theft that some of them knew about. Wilmington had subjected them to a long speech last night and made it clear that as far as he was concerned, they shared just as much responsibility for the incident as the five boys who had actually perpetrated the crime. Of course, the presence of Ruth Crestwell beside the ladies man had sent home the message that this wasn't all his idea.

The younger children laughed and played as they usually did once it got warm enough to venture outside. Hide and seek was a popular game this morning, and Tanner couldn't help but notice all the youngsters counting out their time as he settled himself against the support column.

Larabee stood beside him, his attention firmly drawn by Phillip and Patricia Johnson as they sat and played checkers on the restaurant porch.

"Looks like we might have ourselves a peaceable day," the tracker mentioned offhandedly.

Realizing that Vin was fishing for information, Chris looked at the younger man from the corner of his eye, then offered him a small smile.

"Seems ta me... you was the one askin' me the other day, if I was gonna handle this okay," the tracker offered quietly.

There was a long pause before Larabee spoke. "Who else knows?"

There was another pause.

"I got worried about ya, Chris," Vin bowed his head. "Ain't like ya of late... ta just up and disappear like that."

Both men watched as a group of youngsters ran by.

"Mrs. Crestwell done told me when I asked. I didn't let on ta her about what she was sayin'... Buck weren't listenin'... but I guess he could tell by the look on ma face, that somethin' weren't right."

Larabee nodded his head. Somehow it made sense that the two men closest to him would be the ones to start digging.

"I..." Tanner started to say. Thinking better of it, he turned away.

The gunslinger frowned. "What is it, Vin?"

Standing up straight, the tracker took a deep breath. "She was awful worried too, Chris. I figured she needed ta know."

The blond lowered his head. Closing his eyes, he thought about the uncertainty he brought to his friendship with Mary Travis. Yet this lovely lady had made it abundantly clear that she was willing to weather the storm that was Chris Larabee, if it meant she could share his existence with him. Times, such as this, proved her commitment to their relationship. Chris only hoped he could be deserving of her affection.

"I very much appreciate all the help you ladies are giving me this morning," Inez Recillos said warmly. "I do not think I could have made this many..." she glanced at Nettie Wells for the word she was looking for.

The older lady started to mouth the term the lovely senorita was searching for. She poured another batch of batter on the grill as Inez smiled her understanding.

"...flap jacks," she said with a smile, "without your help."

"Well, if Mrs. Potter hadn't donated all this flour," Mary Travis put in, as she stirred the big bowl, "I don't think we could have accomplished it anyway, Inez. It's nice to be able to give the children a treat like this."

"Especially since they's a little downhearted over that talkin' to they got yesterday," Casey commented as she moved the large plate of pancakes into the oven to stay warm.

"Perhaps they all did not deserve the words that were spoken," Rain said thoughtfully. "But it was not child's play that they did. I believe they should understand what it is they did wrong."

"Well said, my dear," Mrs. Wells concluded. Noticing that Rain was still searching the cupboards for more plates, Nettie frowned. "How many plates have you come up with, child?"

"Somethin' smells good," Dunne said boisterously as he came into the kitchen. Luke Robertson was close behind him.

Looking at the stacks on the counter, the dark maiden considered the plates then turned to look at JD. "I do believe we can feed the children their lunch in two sittings."

"Well, alright then," Nettie spoke up as she turned her attention to the two young men who had come through the door. "Why don't you two start roundin' those youngsters up and we'll get this show on the road."

Luke responded first. "Yes ma'am," he answered as he headed back the way he had come.

Licking his lips, the kid stalled a few seconds. "You reckon there's gonna be some left over?" he asked of no one in particular.

Casey ventured over to where Dunne stood and gave him a sweet smile. "I reckon we might be inclined to make sure there's a few extras..." she looked back at the other women and gave them a devious smile.

The four ladies in the kitchen looked about at each other curiously as they continued with their tasks.

Caught off guard by his lady's actions, Dunne cleared his throat. "Yeah... sure, Casey. I... I can see ... who I can get...ta help out." He smiled at the younger Wells again.

"Go get them children in here, son," Nettie spoke, bringing JD back to reality. "These here flap jacks are cooling fast."

Dunne glanced back at Nettie. His face flushed as he realized that he had forgotten about the other occupants of the room. "Yes ma'am," he said quickly before stumbling out the door. He could hear the laughter echoing off the walls as he left.

"You sure can fix up a fine batch 'a flap jacks, Miss Inez," Wilmington commented loudly as the lovely senorita came out of the kitchen.

As she made her way to the last of the tables that contained dirty dishes, she smiled deviously over her shoulder. "I had a great deal of help, Senor Buck," she said as she gathered the plates and made her way over to the table the ladies man was occupying alone. "But I am so glad that you enjoyed them... Did you have enough?"

"Oh yes ma'am," he replied setting his hands on his fully belly.

"Good," Inez replied as she put the dirty dishes on top of his empty plate, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Then you can take these to the kitchen," she said in her most sensual of voices. Standing up straight, she gave Buck her best smile then turned and headed out the door.

Wilmington, of course, had been so captivated by the honey in her voice and the smile on her face that it took him a few seconds to realize what had just happened. Looking down at the stack of plates in front of him, the smile quickly disappeared from his face.

"I do believe I will retire to my room earlier this evening," Standish said matter-of-factly as they watched the sun heading for the horizon from the jailhouse porch.

"Sure has been quiet taday," Tanner responded. The smaller children could still be seen working off their dinner, but their activity had been subdued all day.

"Maybe we can convince Buck ta keep 'em all trussed up until they leave," the kid added.

"Son, " Josiah commented. "While that, is indeed an appealing idea, I dare say Mrs. Crestwell won't approve." Resting his book on his chest, the preacher frowned. "Come ta think of it... I would have to agree with her. Keepin' children cooped up ain't good for the soul. We need ta let 'em burn off a little of their energy before they get bundled into those wagons again."

"Reckon it should be 'bout three more days before them wagons get here."

Sanchez nodded is head in agreement of Tanner's estimation.

"The pleasant atmosphere of the day was ruined only by the manual labor into which I was so unjustly forced."

"Come on, Ezra," JD objected. "How was I supposed 'a know you'd have ta wash them dishes twice?"

"Well, kid... I'm with Ezra on this one," Buck said gruffly as he joined them, all the while looking at his hands. "Figured we might have a few rough days with this many young'ens around. Didn't figure on gettin' dish pan hands though."

"Here, here, Mr. Wilmington," Standish concurred.

"A few rough days?" Josiah repeated Buck's words.

"I reckon it's been an experience, that's fer sure," Vin said skeptically.

The five men exchanged varying degrees of affirmation as they thought on the words.

"That's real good," Larabee commented as Patricia took her brother's last remaining checker and looked at him proudly.

The children were clearly caught off guard as the gunslinger moved closer. Neither had noticed him standing at the end of the porch. Phillip was very curious as to how that might have happened. It wasn't like him to overlook someone approaching them. The little boy noticed everything that went on around him.

Seeing the suspicious look in the child's eyes, the blond decided it was high time he started that conversation Buck had mentioned. He'd spent enough time observing Phillip and his sister. Now he needed to talk. Taking up a position in front of the table, Larabee knelt down and looked at the boy.

"Hello, Phillip. Remember me? I'm Chris."

Patricia began to pick up the game pieces. One by one she set them in the small tin box. Phillip watched her intently.

Larabee took a deep breath. "I'm gonna take a ride tomorrow... out 'a town. I thought...maybe... you'd like ta come along. Mrs. Crestwell already said you could."

The boy looked at the game pieces in front of him then pushed them towards his sister so she could continue her clean up.

Realizing the children were all but ignoring him, Chris decided to get their attention. He took another deep breath. "Thought maybe we could talk a little... I had a little boy once... he looked a lot like you, Phillip."

There was another long pause.

"I lost my family in a fire just like you did."

Patricia quickly stopped what she was doing and just as quickly, got to her feet knocking the chair out from beneath her.

Phillip's gaze moved from his sister to the man who had spoke. His blank expression had changed.

Chris could now see pain in the child's eyes. He lowered his head, wondering if his need to talk would be too much for the boy. Getting to his feet, Larabee stepped back to give the twins room.

The young girl held out her hand and her brother slowly took it. Patricia tugged at the boy's hand indicating her desire to leave. Phillip continued to stare at the gunslinger and was only distracted when his sister tugged harder. Slowly the children made their way down the boardwalk. Phillip glanced back at the blond several times as the distance between them grew.

Ezra Standish shot straight up from his bed and tried, yet again, to determine what it was that had roused him from his slumber. Clearly the sun was up, but something wasn't right. Reacting quickly, the gambler bounded out of bed. Donning his pants and weapon he dashed out the door.

The ringing of the church bell only meant trouble.

Lacking any other means of gaining the attention of the entire town and closer homesteaders, the sound that echoed from the bell tower was reserved for emergencies and the like. It was an effective way of summoning people to a cause. And true to its purpose, people flooded into the street and headed towards the church. Seven peacekeepers among them, all checking each other's position in case there was trouble of the dangerous kind.

Jackson shook his head.

Ruth Crestwell emerged from the church. Her hand slowly moved to her mouth as she realized what was happening. "Mr. Sanchez," she called out to the preacher as she made her way down the steps and into the street.

"Ma'am." Josiah emerged from the crowd in response to his name and came forward. "What's this all about, Mrs. Crestwell?"

"You ... use the bell as an alarm?" the woman questioned slowly.

Sanchez nodded his head as he began to realize that there was nothing seriously wrong.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Sanchez. I didn't realize we would cause this much trouble. I heard the crowd gathering. I didn't realize..."

"It's alright, Mrs. Crestwell," the big man said as sympathetically as he could. He turned toward the gathered crowd. "It's alright folks... just a misunderstanding. Everyone can go back to what they were doing. It's just a misunderstanding."

"Ma'am," Chris said inquisitively.

"Girls?" JD piped up.

Ruth nodded her head, acknowledging the kid's question. "I'm afraid they asked about the volume of the bell the other day... I had no idea that they would actually try it out." The woman was clearly embarrassed by her charge's behavior once again.

"No harm done," Chris said nonchalantly. He was trying to calm the woman's misgivings. He turned to his men. "You boys make sure everything gets back ta normal," he said, clearly trying to defuse the situation. Facing the lady again, he smiled. "No harm done, Mrs. Crestwell." Larabee looked at Josiah as the lady bowed her head and gave him a 'handle this' look.

Sanchez acknowledged receipt of his order with a nod. "Shall we go find these young ladies, Mrs. Crestwell?"

The woman smiled and the two headed back inside the church.

"Buck," Chris directed, after the preacher was inside, "Keep an eye out for homesteaders ridin' in. Make sure they know it was a false alarm."

Wilmington nodded his head.

"Alright boys. Back to work." Larabee took one last look at his men and headed back down the street.

"Hey, Ezra," Nathan called out before heading back to the clinic. "Put some clothes on."

"Yeah, Ezra," Buck piped in, before he too attended to his duties, "it's embarrassing."

Tanner and Dunne scoffed at the southerner before leaving him standing in the middle of the street all by himself.

The sound of the church bell had Standish out of his bed with such an urgency that he had thought of little else but the crisis at hand. Ezra stood in the street with nothing but his half-buttoned pants on and his gun in his hand. This particular Saturday was proving to be just as memorable as the rest of his week had been.

Chris finished adjusting Diablo's saddle and cinched the strap. Looking up, he caught sight of Mary standing at the end of the boardwalk. The gunslinger lowered his head. He knew she was concerned. Patting his horse on the rump he strolled over to the lady and gazed into her eyes.

"Morning, Mary."

There was a long silence before she replied. "Chris."

Never before had some much understanding been communicated with so few words. The two simply looked at one another.

In Mary's eyes, Chris could see all the worry and concern she had bottled up inside her. He could hear all of her unasked questions and sense her need to help. He could also feel her confusion and dread, and for that reason alone he took her hand.

Mary was still learning to read the gunslinger. She understood that he was slowly bringing down his walls to allow her in. Mary also realized, all too clearly, that this whole process of 'letting her in' was going to take time. Looking at him right now she could see only chaos. The widow clenched her fingers around the hand that held hers and smiled. She knew in her heart that this was something Chris had to do, and all she wanted to do was show her support for his choices.

Looking deep into each other's eyes, the couple exchanged all their unspoken words. They smiled softly for each other then parted company. Neither looked back.

As the gunslinger neared his horse, he spotted Mrs. Crestwell out of the corner of his eye. The Johnson twins were with her. Turning to greet them, Larabee smiled at the woman then knelt down to greet the children. "I'm glad to see you two have taken me up on my offer," he said happily. He nodded to the woman as though thanking her for her efforts. "Do you want to ride together or separate?"

"Well, Mr. Larabee," Ruth said cautiously. "I do know that they haven't had much experience on horseback, and I dare say they will only go together."

"Yes, Ma'am. I assumed that. I thought I'd ride out with them on a tether. Yosemite's got a real nice, quiet horse for them. He's just saddling it now."

"So, are you two ready to go?" the matron bent over to look the children in the eye. What she saw in Phillip's made her wonder.

The boy kept looking back and forth between his sister and the gunslinger.

Ruth looked at the boy. It was clear that she was puzzled by what she saw.

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Crestwell?" the gunslinger asked apprehensively.

"I honestly don't know, Mr. Larabee." Turning her attention back to the boy, her voice softened. "What is it, Phillip?"

There was a pause.

Larabee looked at the children.

The matron looked from the gunslinger to her charges.

Phillip Johnson looked back and forth between all three people present. Taking a step forward, the boy took his sister's hand and placed it in the matron's. As the girl began to signal her objection, the boy held up his hand telling her no.

"Phillip," Ruth said slowly. "Are you trying to tell Patricia to stay with me? That you want to go with Mr. Larabee... by yourself!" Although the matron spoke the words she could hardly believe what she was saying.

A simple nod of the boy's head confirmed her suspicions.

Phillip and Patricia hadn't been apart, for more than a few minutes, in the past three and a half years. Neither child had spoken since that terrible morning that their parents and grandmother were killed in a horrible fire. Near as anyone could figure out, their father rescued his children from their home, before returning inside for his wife and mother. None of the adults had been seen again. Patricia had no physical scars. Phillip had several that he hid from the other children. Clearly though, what tormented these children the most were the memories that neither could let go of.

Looking at the gunslinger in amazement, the woman again focused on the boy. "Are you sure, Phillip?" she asked a second time.

Again the boy nodded his head.

Gazing at the gunslinger again, Ruth saw him close his eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. She wasn't sure what was going on between this man and this boy, but she knew it needed to happen. Something inside the matron told her this was the right thing to do.

"Well then," she said, trying to regain control of the situation, and her senses. "We shall leave you two alone. Come along, Patricia."

As the matron turned to leave, the girl began to pull away. Ruth held on tight and pulled the child's arm. When it became apparent that Patricia was not going to co-operate; Mrs. Crestwell bent over to talk to her quietly.

Larabee watched as the matron went back in to the church, pulling a defiant child all the way.

As Phillip stood beside Chris, he turned away. He didn't like the idea of watching his sister leave, but somewhere, deep inside, he knew he didn't want her to be with him right now.

"Don't make much sense, if ya ask me," Tanner was telling Buck, as JD entered the sheriff's office. Luke Robertson was right behind him, as had been the norm for most of the week.

"What don't make sense, Vin?" the kid asked, making his way across the room.

Smiling at their visitor, Wilmington turned his attention to Dunne. "Virgil came over this morning and said that some of his saw blades were missing. Figured someone swiped about six of 'em overnight."

"You think it was some of the boys, Mr. Wilmington?" Luke asked slowly.

"Well, son," Buck replied, "That's what we were thinkin'."

JD looked at both men and shrugged his shoulders. He could tell there was more to the story, but no one was volunteering the information.

"Mr. Watson came back, not more than fifteen minutes ago," the tracker continued as he got up and moved to the door. "Seems them missin' blades found their way home this afternoon." Having giving his answer, Tanner waved his goodbye and disappeared out the door.

"What?" the kid said loudly.

"Didn't make much sense ta us either, kid," the ladies man responded as he too, made his way to the door. "You best keep an eye on what's goin' on in the street."

"Alright, Buck," Dunne responded as Wilmington left.

"Why do they call you kid, JD?" Luke asked innocently.

John Dunne thought on the question as he made his way to the door. Sometimes he didn't even hear the words anymore. Calling him kid was just like when they called him JD. But there were other times when it bugged the heck out of him. He wasn't a kid anymore. Hell, he hadn't even been a kid when he had arrived here four years ago.

"Just...somethin' they always call me is all," he replied as he and Luke walked outside. Leaning against one of the support beams he continued. "I weren't exactly a kid when I got here neither, but they's all way older than me...so they call me the kid."

"Some of them's is too old to be bein' sheriffs ain't they?"

Never really having thought about ages much, Dunne aired on the side of caution. "I don't reckon I'd be lettin' any 'a them hear ya say that, Luke. Besides... ain't nobody betta in a gunfight. I've trusted 'em with my life fer four years now. Reckon we'll be doin' it fer some time ta come."

There was a pause while the young man sat on the bench. "What's it like to be shot?" he finally asked.

Taking a deep breath, Dunne took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. Replacing the bowler, he moved to the bench and sat beside his new friend. "It ain't somethin' you should be lookin' ta do, Luke. I ain't plannin' on doin' it again no time soon."

"But you carry them pistols around all the time. Someone could come inta town and shoot ya just fer bein' the sheriff. I heard stories 'bout people who do just that."

JD snickered. "Most of the men like that... they's just lookin' ta make a name for themselves... them types don't come around here much anymore."

Another long pause.

"Cause they know there's seven of you here?"

Dunne raised an eyebrow. "For folk like that ya don't need seven. Especially when one of ya's named Larabee." JD looked around to make sure no one was listening. Leaning in close he smiled. "Ain't no single man stupid enough ta face Chris Larabee in a shoot out," he said sitting back up. "And any group of men who come ridin' in here lookin for a fight...they knows they's gonna find it."

"Mr. Larabee don't seem so ... bad," Luke said slowly, and quietly.

"You ain't seen him pissed, Luke. And believe me... you don't wanna."

At that precise moment in time, several miles from town, the leader of the seven peacekeepers sat and stared out at his tranquil surroundings. There was absolutely nothing resembling a 'pissed off' emotion is the blond's head. Chris Larabee, the gunslinger, didn't exist.

Christopher Dent Larabee sat at the edge of the pond with a fishing pole in his hand.

A small boy sat quietly by his side.

By all rights, that child's name should have been Adam Larabee. But cruel fate and a mad woman had put an end to that life.

Seeing this little boy three nights ago had brought back memories Chris thought he had buried. This boy looked so much like his son, and the circumstances that had delivered him to the present were remarkably similar to Larabee's own. Yet the emotions Chris was feeling right at this point in time weren't those of rage or anger. He seemed more at peace now than he thought possible. Chris felt a strange compulsion to explain his past emotions and confront his pain.

Chris Larabee was ready to let go.

Phillip Johnson sat beside the big man holding his fishing pole, just like Chris had shown him. They hadn't caught anything all afternoon, but there again... that wasn't their intent and both of them seemed to know this unspoken truth.

After riding out to his place, the blond had shown the child his home and his land. They had eaten lunch on the porch then headed out again. Another short ride had brought them to Billy's favorite pond. Chris had suggested a swim, but the boy had indicated no. When the idea of fishing came up, Phillip had appeared interested.

So here they were an hour or more later, still waiting for a bite.

"Suppose you don't get much chance ta go fishin' at the home," Chris said quietly. He had tried several times to strike up a dialogue, but was finding it increasingly hard to do. Larabee wasn't much good at one-sided conversations, unless he had a gun in his hand. Realizing that this wasn't exactly the best thing to say either, Chris tried to dispel the effects of what he'd just asked. "Probably hard ta do anyways with ya sister always hanging around."

Phillip looked at the man intently, and for an instant Chris thought he could see hurt in the boy's eyes.

He took another deep breath. "Must be hard... just the two of ya."

There was a long pause.

"Least you got each other though. I know I'd hold on tight if one of my family had survived that fire."

As the boy watched, Chris closed his eyes. Phillip began to understand the man's pain. The tone in his voice relayed the anguish he felt in his heart. The words the man chose were random, not carefully picked to confuse or confound him. This was a man who was being honest with him about the feelings he had after experiencing a similar event in his life. This was a man he could believe.

"Ya know," Chris turned to look at the boy. "I was lost after it happened. I turned away from everybody and everything I knew. I was so angry ... and I really didn't understand why. I never tried to figure out why... I thought I knew why..."

Chris took another, thoughtful breath before continuing. "I even beat up ma best friend so bad he could hardly walk. Don't reckon none of what I did was right though. Didn't help much... Oh, it made me feel betta right then and there, but it didn't do no good."

Looking back out at the water, Larabee continued. "I'm still angry, Phillip, but I know I can't let it run my life. I know I got 'a make the best of the life I got left ta live. When it comes right down to it...nothing makes the pain go away... and nothing can bring 'em back. But I reckon I've learn to forgive ma self for bein' the one who survived. I'm learnin' to move on with ma life."

The man looked at the boy solemnly.

The boy looked back at the man.

There was another long silence.

"You look like my boy, Phillip... he was only five when he died, but he looked a lot like you." Chris lowered his head. "He'd be about twelve now." Again the gunslinger closed his eyes, tightly this time.

Phillip raised his hand and set it on the gunslinger's forearm.

Surprised by the touch, Larabee opened his eyes and smiled at the young boy. "Thanks for coming out here with me ta day, Phillip," he whispered softly.

For a long moment, the two only looked at each other again, but Chris could see something new in the child's eyes. For an instant in time, the gunslinger thought Phillip might actually speak to him, but then he turned back to the pond and his pole. Larabee too, looked back at the water, but for some strange reason, Chris felt at peace.

"I don't know about this, Josiah," Vin said thoughtfully as he paced up and down the boardwalk. "Seems like an awful lot 'a work."

"Hard work is good for the soul, my young friend."

"I ain't doubtin' that for a minute," the tracker said, coming to a stop in front of the big man. "I just ain't sure we can do what you's suggestin'."

"I already got the okay from Mrs. Crestwell. Luke will come along, of course. And ..." the preacher said happily. "I have secured the agreement of five lovely ladies." Sanchez presented his six companions with his customary big, toothy grin.

"Proud of ya self, ain't you, Josiah?" Wilmington quipped from his chair.

"Well, my good man, you obviously have been considering this plan for quite some time," the gambler concluded as he leaned back in his chair. The chair creaked a little as Standish stretched out and set his feet on the railing. "Pray tell, Mr. Sanchez. Did you 'forget' to inform your associates of this 'glorious' plan... On the off chance that we would be left with no other option but to agree."

Not quite understanding ever word the southerner spoke, but getting a clear grasp on the intent of words, the kid stood up straight from the support beam he was leaning against. Nodding his head, JD piped up, "Yeah... what Ezra just said."

"I can't believe Rain didn't tell me what you was planning, Josiah," Nathan commented as he shook his head. "I need ta have a talk with that girl."

"Now don't you go blaming the ladies," the preacher said as he eyed Jackson. Glancing towards Dunne he smiled. "I asked them not to say anything until it had been decided... one way or another."

"You really think we can do it?" Buck asked again as he took up the same position as Ezra. Just as the gambler's chair had done, Wilmington's creaked too.

Nathan began to speak as he glanced at the two men reclining in their chairs, "Suppose it would be betta than sittin' around here all day long." Giving Ezra and Buck another look he added, "doing nothin'."

"You ain't agreeing with him now are ya, Nathan?" Dunne asked indignantly.

"Sure he is kid," Wilmington said boisterously. "He's plannin' to disappear with Rain, on the guise of huntin' up some more of them herbs 'a his. That leaves the rest 'a us to see to the young'ens with two less ta help."

"For your information, Buck Wilmington, them 'herbs' are important to what I do," the healer replied defensively. "Kept your sorry hide healthy once or twice, " he muttered quietly.

The ladies man giggled to himself. He knew Jackson spoke the truth about his medicines, but he'd pass up no opportunity to rib him about those awful tasting, foul smelling potions that he brewed up. Buck shifted in his chair and it creaked, yet again.

"Maybe Josiah ain't got such a bad idea after all," the tracker said rather smugly as he watched Wilmington attempting to get comfortable in his chair. "Given 'em somethin' different ta do would be nice. They's gonna be getting on them wagons again in a couple 'a days..."

"Thank the lord," the gambler interrupted.

The other five men looked at Standish with varying degrees of amazement.

"Maybe gettin' 'em out 'a town for a while would give the other folks a break," Vin continued.

"And what of us, Mr. Tanner?" Standish asked as he set his chair down and leaned forward. "Are we not allowed 'a break'?" Gazing at the tracker inquisitively, Ezra pushed his chair back again and set it on two legs, again resting his feet on the rail. A loud creaking noise sounded and as Standish began to look down hesitantly, the chair gave way under the gambler's weight, and Ezra went crashing to the ground in a commotion of dust and splintered wood.

Wilmington let out a holler. Dunne tried to hide the smirk on his face.

Nathan, of course, was the first to speak, "You alright, Ezra?"

"I believe you've been given your 'break' for today, Ezra," the preacher said humorously. His toothy smile was showing again.

Vin just stood and looked at the gambler, "That about says it all, Ezra!" he smiled.

Looking up at the healer, Standish sat up and brushed himself off. "I believe... I am quite alright, Mr. Jackson." He looked around at the other men indignantly. "Thank you for your concern."

"Yeah," Buck piped in as he looked down at the man still sitting on the ground beside him. "And as 'breaks' go, Ezra... that was a good one."

Shaking his head, the ladies man wavered away the lingering dust still in the air. The excessive movement in his chair caused a loud cracking noise. Buck looked anxiously at the other men, the terrified look in his eyes was beyond comical. Another crack signaled the chair's end, and Wilmington too, went crashing to the ground. Finding himself sitting beside Standish, Buck once again waved his arms around at the hail of dust that, yet again encircled the two men.

"You were saying, Mr. Wilmington!" the southerner quipped.

Dunne was now in hysterics, and Tanner found himself unable to maintain his usual cool façade. Even Nathan found it hard not to laugh at the two men on the ground in front of him.

As the laughter died down, Sanchez cleared his throat and spoke, "Gentlemen, I believe the lord has spoken."