To Honor My Father

Disclaimer: The Characters used are the property of MGM and Trilogy. No financial or creative rights are claimed to the characters from the Magnificent Seven Television series.

Spoilers: A hint of Achilles, Manhunt,Penance and Sins of the Past, possibly others. Walking the Roots and The Crying Waters may be helpful.

Notes: This is a work of fiction, though actual people are mentioned. Lieutenant Cooper, Black Bear and Walks in the Sun are of my origination. The events are loosely based on Quanah Parker's search for renegade Comanches along the Pecos. The writer hopes the Comanche dialect and the People were represented with some accuracy. Acknowledgment to all that envisioned a young Vin Tanner living with the Comanches as this writer envisioned. Thank you to my sister Kathy for gently correcting my oversights. A heartfelt thank you to Painted Eyes for her suggestions and guidance and to Joan for her encouragement.

Part 1

"I was born upon the prairie where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of sun. I was born where there were no enclosures and where everything drew a free breath. I want to die there and not within walls."

The creased and worn newspaper lay spread out in front of Vin Tanner, pressed down flat on the table. Struggling over the words, Vin stubbornly sounded them out the way Mary Travis had schooled him. A scattering of newspapers placed at his feet on the floor had already been painstakingly read. The news spoke of unrest along the Red River and Vin worried for his family that was among the band of Kwahadi.

Vin read the stark, black typeface moving his lips with each word: The last band of Comanches, the Kwahadi, or antelopes, had finally surrendered themselves to Colonel Ranald Mackenzie at Fort Sill. The Reservation was located in Indian Territory with its' southern border running along the Red River.

He rubbed his face pensively and took a long drink from the mug of beer grasped, white-knuckled, in his hand. He knew the Comanches were at the dusk of their days, but it still brought a stirring to his heart. At the age of twelve when the Rangers tore him away from a life of freedom and true joy, Vin knew that the white man, tahbay-boh had won and would win again.

He had seen the white man's destruction during his time in the war and had feared for the People, knowing they could not win against this enemy; too many men, too many guns, too powerless to overcome. The white men were as many as leaves on trees.*

The Kwahadi surrendered at Fort Sill in June of 1875. They surrendered because they no longer could survive on their beloved plains. They surrendered because the old were dying, the young were dying, their women were dying. The Comanche warrior could not tolerate this sorrow, surrendering their souls so that the People might live.

Vin lifted the Dallas newspaper closer to him, as he haltingly read the *abbreviated * letter sent by Colonel Mackenzie on behalf of Quanah, the son of Cynthia Ann Parker:

Denison, Texas Quartermaster. Quanah Parker seeking information and location of mother, Cynthia Ann Parker (Naduah) and sister, Prairie Flower (Topsannah). Last seen December 1860. Any information to be forwarded in care of Colonel Ranald Mackenzie at Fort Sill, Indian Territory. Written by Colonel Ranald Mackenzie as requested by Quanah Parker dated May 19, 1875.

Vin released a slow breath and stared into the shadows of the darkly lit saloon. He knew Quanah's kin were dead and had been dead for many years now. Cynthia Ann, Topsannah and Vin had been taken from the Kwahadi during a Ranger raid in the winter of 1860. The Rangers, angered at Nawkohnee, a war chief, for his raiding near the Brazos, relentlessly pursued and attacked the Kwahadi band as they camped along the Pease River.

Vin's leg, jittery under the table, rhythmically bounced up and down, as he remembered. It all came back to him, angry, fierce and frightening in his mind's eye as he heard the howling rage of the wind that had almost muffled the thrumming of hoofbeats, close and urgent, as they had converged on the encampment. He had grabbed up his quiver and had shouted to his mother to remain in their lodge. The attackers loomed, menacing and violent, over the frantic women and children as they had aimed their firearms with no mercy on all that had the ill fortune of being caught in their sights. The icy fingers of a northern wind had torn at him, bringing with it a scent of bloodied death and screams of terror that had rendered him almost senseless. He remembered it all too well.

Sixty or more Rangers and soldiers, vengeful and maddened, had rampaged against women and children and a growing desperation had clutched at him to save as many as he could. He had turned towards a figure encased in a blanket, running away on foot from a Ranger, lusting for blood, then the Ranger surprised to see the dull, yellow hair of a white woman. The butt end of a carbine dropping him, as he had grabbed at the Ranger's booted foot, falling to the ice-cold earth as voices, muffled and unexpectedly gentle, had reached him with words. "Don't shoot! They're white."

The newspaper shook in his hands, uncontrolled, as he tried to rein in his breathing, suppressing the memories of the maimed and bloodied bodies of women and children and the lingering fear that his mother had died. He closed his eyes tightly, away from the pictures so clear, and he turned towards more memories, this time pleasant as he called to mind the yellow-haired woman who was Quanah's mother.

On quiet evenings, she would sometimes speak to Quanah and Vin about her days as a child. Vin would always listen intently and Naduah, who had been Cynthia Ann before coming to the People, would laugh and call him tzat taso tuine`hpua, good white boy.

She spoke of living along the Navasota River as a child. The land was a magnificent vista of rolling plains, soil rich for farming, and game to overflowing. There was an abundance of deer and turkey, oaks filled the great expanse and water was plentiful. Cynthia Ann and her family settled there with a few other families.

She spoke of a time when the People came and took her to live with them. The men had been working in the fields when the attack occurred whilst she, her brother and some other settlers were inside the "Fort". There were Comanches, Kiowas and Wichitas, one hundred strong. As she spoke, Vin recalled that her eyes showed no ire, even when she mentioned of her family dying at the hands of the People, accepting that as their way.

Her brother, John Parker and James Plummer, were ransomed and returned to the tahbay-boh after being captive for six years. John, running away from the white man, returned to the plains seeking out his sister, but could not find her. He eventually married a Mexican girl who had been a Comanche captive, and lived in Mexico close to the Rio Grande.

Cynthia Ann married a war chief named Nawkohnee, or Peta Nocona, and lived comfortably with honor. She gave Nawkohnee three children, one of which was Quanah. When the Rangers attacked, Cynthia Ann fought against them trying to save herself and her daughter. She did not wish to be rescued, coming to love her life and her Comanche family. Cynthia Ann mourned for the Kwahadi, no longer living in a world in which she truly belonged, dying among the Tahbay-boh.

Vin was of the same mind of not belonging, unsure of his place after being taken from the People. He did not belong with the tahbay-boh nor could he return to the Kwahadi; he was alone again at the age of twelve.

He closed his eyes as he recalled his days with his family; a faint smile brushed the corners of his lips and his face showed contentment as he thought of his *mother*, Walks in the Sun. She loved children passionately, but the spirits did not allow her the joy of being a mother. Her husband, Gusape, or Black Bear, wished to bring her happiness asking Vin to be of his family and Vin gratefully accepted.

The People loved their children deeply and Vin was no different, being allowed to play with Quanah and his younger brother Pecos, along with the other children. Vin would spend most of his days practicing with his bow and lance, and particularly loving to ride the ponies. The wind catching at his long, brown hair taking his breath and the sun bronzing his skin a golden hue as he raced beside Quanah, their speed not tempered, giving Vin a joyous release and a wanting to ride free, always.

Vin's life was much easier than the years' before, when each day had been filled with loneliness, fear and punishment. He loved his new mother and father and they loved him dearly; being a quiet and gentle boy, but fierce of heart.

Vin lived with his mother and his father's second wife, who was younger than Walks in the Sun and was with child. Walks in the Sun no longer was sad of heart, now that Vin was in her life. She would always be Black Bear's first and most loved wife; the deerskin cord tied to her bedding of buffalo robes summoned her each night to Black Bear's lodging. Her husband and son brought her much joy.

Walks in the Sun showed Vin a caring that he had not known after his mother's death. She made him clothes of the finest deerskin and buffalo hide and he never felt hunger or thirst, his lodgings comfortable and filled with buffalo robes that kept them warm in the coldest of winters. Walks in the Sun gave all she had to Vin with unselfish devotion.

Vin would sometimes wake at night with dreams that would frighten him, not remembering what they were about, and would be sodden in sweat and trembling with fear. Walks in the Sun would gather him in her arms and comfort him, singing songs of a mother's love and of pleasant days to come on the plains.

Vin took a drink from his beer and squinted his eyes in thought, trying to recall his mother's words. A raspy whisper floated softly through the empty saloon as Vin spoke from a hazy memory.

"O Son, walk the grasses,
O Son, ride the grasses.
The wind embraces,
The sun warms,
The rain stills thirst.
The grasses cradle in slumber."

Life was good for Vin Tanner for the first time, since his mother's passing, though still filled with sorrow that his mother had died. Walks in the Sun knew this sorrow and she would hold Vin close in his despair, soothing him, granting him the compassion of a mother's touch.

During his years with the Kwahadi, Vin and Quanah had become close friends, though he was three years older than the mixed-blood Comanche. Quanah was slight in build, like Vin, and gray-eyed. Vin found him to be brave and very skilled in his ways with horse, bow and lance. Avowing with a determination to be a great war chief, Quanah proved himself courageous with powerful puha, or medicine, through the years.

Vin had learned that Quanah had been a force behind the attack of the Buffalo hide hunters at Adobe Walls, along with a young medicine man named Eschiti. He heard talk of the signs that the young medicine man spoke of to the People: a great blaze, Coggia's comet, would pass across the heavens for five days and then there would be no rains. His visions were true, and the People believed Eschiti possessed great puha or power, and followed him in his quest of the destruction of all Tahboy-boh.

Eschiti had gathered the Kiowa, Cheyenne and Comanche together to perform a sun dance, though it was not a Comanche ritual. During his time with the People, Vin had seen the scalp and war dances. Vin knew the People did not have societies or many religious ceremonies, unlike the Lakota, Cheyenne and Kiowa. The Comanche were free to take counsel or choose their own path.

The vision of Eschiti had begun with the sun dance and ended with the decision to attack and kill the buffalo hide hunters for the suffering they had caused the People. Eschiti's war trail had been bad medicine for the Comanche, Kiowa and Cheyenne; almost being defeated by the twenty-eight buffalo hide hunters, losing many horses and men to the long-range, powerful buffalo rifles.

The alliance of the Kiowa, Cheyenne, Arapaho and Comanche had withered and Eschiti's puha was marred. Adobe Walls had been the first battle of many that had lead to the destruction of the People and Vin looked on those day with a deep sadness.

He had received news of the Kwahadi from other bands when he was buffalo hunting many years ago, but never seemed to come across them on the great expanse of the plains. Being nomadic people, they traveled many miles over the Comancheria. Vin's troubles with Eli Joe kept him from returning to the staked plains over the years, as Tascosa rested on the banks of the Canadian River. Vin had not heard of his family's fate and prayed they were unharmed.

He swallowed down the last of his beer and arranged the newspaper with care, folding it gently along the worn creases, trying not to tear the fragile publication. All things having the written word were highly regarded by Vin, an old longing in him to understand the puzzling markings that told stories without voice and enabled visions without drawings.

He could never fully express his gratitude towards Mary. Words seemed inadequate to declare his thankfulness, but that was all he had to offer her that day, so many months ago. He had given her a quiet, "Thank you, Mary", and a tip of the hat with his capable, slender fingers, as he quietly turned and closed the Clarion door behind him. Walking away, he had looked back quickly, catching a hint of her smile, reflecting a caring for him that warmed his heart. Vin smiled at that recollection as he gathered up the newspapers on the table in front of him and slowly rose, walking to the bar to get a beer.

J.D. sauntered into the saloon, adjusting his eyes from the glare of day to the shadows of half light. Noticing Vin at the bar, he walked over and gave a boisterous greeting, not being able to rein in his youthful exuberance. Though J.D. jangled his nerves at times, Vin enjoyed the kid's company, reminding Vin of the few years when he had felt contented and unburdened. They were kind memories and it brought him a smile to think on them and it brought him a smile to think on J.D.

"Hey, Vin. What'cha up to?" J.D. looked curiously over towards the table with the stack of papers.

Watching J.D. glance over at the back table, Vin stated matter-of-factly, "Just doin' a little readin', J.D."

"Oh, yeah? Didn't know you were big on that sort of thing." J.D. pressed Vin further. "What are ya readin'?"

Vin smiled and turned away from J.D.'s questioning eyes, thinking back to a time and to a life that J.D. could not understand. He knew it was difficult for many whites to see the Comanches as little more than savages, and though it pained him that things were that way, he ruefully accepted what he could not change. He walked slowly over to the table nearest to the wall and placed the newspapers neatly on the floor beside him. He snaked himself down into his chair, slouching with booted feet crossed at the ankles.

J.D. swaggered over with his bright-eyed enthusiasm and sat down across from Vin, staring intently, waiting for an answer. It must be something mighty interesting to get Vin Tanner to read a newspaper. J.D. started to question Vin again, but stopped himself, abruptly as the imposing presence of Chris Larabee loomed over their table.

"Hey, Larabee. Set a spell." Vin nodded for Chris to take a seat. He sat down near Vin in a fluid motion of black duster and sinew. Chris glanced down at the floor, noticing the newspapers stacked at Vin's feet.

"Catchin' up on the news, Vin?" Chris half-smiled, head low and eyes lifted up teasingly towards Vin.

"A man's got t'know what's goin' on in the world," Vin impassively replied, taking a drink from his beer and boyishly wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"I s'pose that's true." Chris looked towards J.D. , who sat silently watching the two men.

"Sure, Chris. But, I sure would love t'know what Vin was reading." J.D. was curious as ever and he didn't want to miss out on anything as he went to the bar.

"Now, J.D., you know a man's business is his own." Chris smiled over at Vin. He was as curious as J.D. about what the sharpshooter was all-fired interested in reading. And, damn it, he was gonna find out even if it took the rest of the day, which by all accounts it probably would. Chris knew from experience that Vin was not forthcoming about matters of a personal nature.

Vin was not unsettled by their meddling. If he had wanted solitude, he would never have taken the papers into the saloon. This place was full of prying cowboys, worse than a bunch of ladies at a social. Larabee, especially. Can't seem to go a day without wanting to know what he was up to. Vin snorted glancing over at Chris, half-disgusted and half-relieved that there were people that wanted to know his whereabouts.

"Naw." Vin sipped his beer thoughtfully, enjoying the quiet before the questions came his way.

"Well, somethin' got ya laughin'. If you call that damn snortin' of yours, laughin'." Chris glanced over at Vin waiting to hear a sarcastic retort.

"Ain't nothin' funny here. Hell, the only one funny is J.D. and that ain't sayin' much what with those dog jokes and all." Vin tssked loudly with feigned disgust.

J.D. approached the table three beers in hand, a broad grin filled his youthful face. "You really think I'm funny, Vin?" J.D. set the beers down on the table and looked directly at Vin not being put off again. "Do ya, Vin?"

Chris smirked down into his beer. He found Vin to be one of the most humorous men he had ever come across. Vin's natural irony about life always brought a smile to him, even a laugh, and that was some doing.

"Well, I heard ya tellin' Chris that I was the funniest person here. So, that means you think I'm funny. Don't it, Chris?" J.D. looked doggedly at Chris. "You tell that to Buck, okay Vin?" J.D. turned his attention to Vin, not getting a response from either man. J.D. didn't seem to care, as he sat back in his seat with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Vin looked up at Chris with a full smile and a friendly wink. The kid was damn amusing. Vin shook his head and glanced down at his hands, enjoying the camaraderie.

"So do I have t' climb over ya and see for myself or are ya just goin' t' tell me and make it easy?" Chris pointedly asked, waiting for a reply. Chris settled down over his beer and resigned himself to a long wait.

Choosing not to disturb his reclining position, Vin slowly reached down to the newspaper closest to him and tossed the worn and yellowed paper on the table without rancor.

*******************************************
COMANCHES ATTACK ADOBE WALLS
RED RIVER WAR RAGES
***********************************************

Chris looked up at Vin after perusing the headline and handed the paper over to the ever-curious J.D. "Old news ain't it, pard?" Chris asked wondering where this was heading.

"I reckon." Vin sat up straight and faced Chris, weighing his words before he began. "I just wanted to git the whole story. There's been a lot of palaverin' about the Comanches lately."

"You think this is the truth?" Chris asked, surprised that Vin would put any stock in the white man's journalism.

Vin shrugged his shoulders, his eyes searching for answers in the shadows of the dingy saloon. "I heard some buffalo hide hunters talkin' 'bout Adobe Walls. I knew some of the warriors on that war trail. One of 'em goes by the name of Quanah. He's a mixed blood."

"When did you know him, Vin?" J.D. asked eyes wide with excitement. "When you were huntin' buffalo?" J.D. continued without waiting for a reply. "Nathan said you lived with them for awhile when you were huntin' and I know you mentioned it a few times, 'bout the Kiowa and the Comanche. Was it then,Vin?"

Vin stared at J.D. shaking his head astounded by the unrelenting prattle. "J.D. git some air. I ain't pickin' y' up off the floor if'n ya black out."

Chris grinned at Vin's seeming irritation at J.D. Though Vin and J.D. were not separated by many years, J.D. still held an innocence that life had brutally stolen from Vin long ago. Chris waited for Vin to answer J.D.'s questions. He knew Vin's vexation would be short-lived, not a man to throw away valuable time on trifling concerns.

"I lived with the Kwahadi on the Canadian when I was 'bout nine or so. Was with them for three years, I reckon. Rangers took me away 'round the winter of '60 or so. Quanah's ma got took back too. Cynthia Ann Parker, ya'll mighta heard of her." Vin looked at Chris waiting to see what he knew and watching to see how Chris took to the idea of him growing up with the Comanches.

"I reckon you got some ties then?" Chris was not surprised that Vin had lived with the Comanches when he was a boy. He was aware that Vin had lived with them when he was hunting buffalo, Vin was plain on that right from the start.

He looked deep into Chris' eyes before he answered, feeling reassured by what he saw mirrored back at him. There was no judgment or disapproval, just acceptance. "I had a family. Adopted me, took care 'a me. They was kind t' me. Couldn't ask fer more than that." Vin took a long thirst-quenching drink from his beer, reflecting on his past.

Chris was humbled to contemplate all the adversity that Vin had to overcome in his life and yet, held no bitterness within him. From the get-go, Chris held Vin in high regard. Something about his bearing was upright and true and Chris' respect for the man increased with each passing day.

"You ponderin' on somethin'?" Chris could tell that Vin's mind was working itself around some quandary that needed tending. Chris again waited patiently for Vin to reply.

"Just some business of mine that needs lookin' into." Vin was close-mouthed, offering Chris nothing more.

"All right." Chris sat back and took a long drink from his beer, satisfied that the matter had been settled. If Vin needed help, Chris would be there. Vin rose up in a flowing motion, reaching down for the newspapers.

J.D. had been quiet through the whole discourse between the two men. He was always intrigued by their conversations, few words spoken, but so much said. J.D. knew he needed to work on restraint, but his enthusiasm always seemed to get the better of him. He kept quiet as long as he could, and then felt as if he would burst at the seams, if he didn't speak before Vin left the saloon. Vin, seeing J.D. shifting nervously in his chair, smiled down at him. "Somethin' git in yer drawers, J.D.?"

J.D. looked down at his beer, feeling foolish as his face burned hot. "I just wanted you t' know that I'm offerin' too, if you need me, Vin."

J.D.'s willingness to help without question moved Vin. Generous and kindhearted, J.D. was often times hurt by a world crueler than he believed it to be, inciting Vin to protect him from life's unkindness, whenever he could.

"Thanks, J.D." Vin tipped his hat to the boys, and with newspapers in hand walked out through the batwing doors.

Vin entered the Clarion the way he entered all buildings with discomfiture, turning around slowly, as he closed the door behind him with a methodical exaggeration. Purposefully watching, making sure it closed properly, as he instinctively guarded his back, giving him the time he needed to collect himself before facing whatever lay ahead.

Mary sat in thought with her head down setting type for the morning's paper. She turned away from her labor and looked towards the door as the bells overhead jangled through the quiet room. A smile touched her lips as she glanced up to see Vin Tanner enter the small office, an unease on him. Mary waited expectantly for the shy smile and slight touch of hand to hat brim.

"Afternoon, Mary," Vin spoke softly. "Thank y' for the newspapers. I 'preciate ya lettin' me read 'em."

"I hope they were helpful to you, Vin." Mary looked at Vin with concern. She knew he had a strong bond with the Comanches and that their fate was not a pleasant one at the hands of the Government. "Is there anything I can do for you, Vin?" She was not sure what she could offer him, but she did want him to know that she cared.

Vin looked thoughtfully down at the floor, studying on his words before speaking. "I was hopin' you might help me send a telegram t' a Colonel Mackenzie at Fort Sill."

"I can do that for you, Vin." Mary eagerly grabbed a pencil from behind her ear and reached for a writing tablet off the desk. They sat on the high stools placed around a workbench.

"What would you like to say?" She inquired gently, knowing that the task of putting words on paper fretted the kindhearted man, though he could speak the language of a poet; eloquent and lyrical. Mary smiled at Vin, as she thought of his words comparing his poetry to that of the rhythmical dialect of the People, the cadence remaining in his heart and in his speech.

"Well, I was just wonderin' 'bout the whereabouts of some. . ." Vin hesitated looking at Mary ". . .family. Folks that took me in when I was a little feller." Mary smiled at Vin and waited for him to continue. "I'm just not sure how t'word it right. I want t'make sure it's written proper like so that the Colonel will git me the answers I need."

"All right, why don't we start, then?" Mary sent a reassuring smile to Vin and began the task of writing out the telegram.

Chris saw Vin enter the Clarion and determined that he was returning the old newspapers to Mary. Chris knew Mary had been helping Vin with his reading and scribing. Vin's gladness at his newly developed skill was unmistakable to the attentive eye. Chris saw quiet signs of satisfaction whenever Vin read the wanted posters at the jail or the signs and notices on the town's buildings. He reminded Chris of a blind man given the gift of sight. It was a pleasure to watch and Chris did so discreetly, not wanting to unsettle the reserved man.

He watched Mary's and Vin's heads bowed down together in concentration and felt a warmth fill him at the sight of two people that somehow wormed their way into his life, into his heart. He didn't even know when it happened, it being so natural, so quiet that it took him completely unawares. Chris was no longer running from people and he was again able to rekindle his long ago forfeited friendship with Buck. Grievous thoughts of his family no longer were incited whenever he was around the lanky cowboy. Chris was slowly beginning to feel life again; one determined day at a time.

Chris walked past the Clarion with a nod of approval, leaving Vin and Mary alone in their task. He would find out soon enough what they were doing. A knowing smile unfolded across his handsome features as he thought about his cunning at gaining news from the comely widow. He swaggered down the boardwalk with what appeared to be a smile on his face, causing stunned townsfolk to tip their hats and swiftly call out greetings to the normally somber gunslinger. Stares of bewilderment and then pleasant surprise were left in his wake.

. Mary looked up at Vin, pleased with the wording of the telegram. Vin nodded his head in silent agreement.

"Well, I think that should do it." Mary handed the paper to Vin and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress.

"Reckon it should, Mary. 'Preciate yer help." Vin folded the paper and put it in his coat pocket. He looked at Mary for a moment and then turned towards the door.

"I hope you find them, Vin," Mary spoke softly, sincerely wishing him good fortune in his search. Vin turned towards her with a touch to hat brim and quietly walked out the door.

Making his way to the Telegraph Office, Vin trod gingerly through the townsfolk gathered on the boardwalk, half-listening to the noises and voices of the small town. He observed Buck and Ezra heading into the saloon; hunters in pursuit of their prey, one for money and the other for women. Vin shook his head pondering on the two men, an agreeable grin forming on his lips.

He cast his eyes towards the dingy, dust-coated clapboards of the church and saw Josiah, a bear of a man, sitting in repose on the steps, taking in the sun's warmth. Vin ambled over and sat down quietly at Josiah's side, not saying a word, feeling the calmness flowing from the man beside him. Vin knew that every man had more than one leaning to him and Josiah, though a man with a hunger for peace, sometimes divulged a rage within him so forceful, it was difficult to harness. Vin did not fear Josiah, even in those moments of fury. He had a sense of him, knowing that the calm would return before he caused any real hurt.

They sat together for more than twenty minutes before either man spoke, enjoying each others' quiet companionship. Shifting his powerful, sturdy legs, Josiah opened his eyes and nodded, looking towards Vin with intense blue eyes and strong jaw jutting out in a broad grin. "Brother Vin, I do believe it is a glorious day for quiet contemplation."

"Reckon so, Josiah." Vin gave an affectionate whack to Josiah's leg before rising.

"C'n I help y'with anything, Vin?" Josiah asked wanting to assist Vin if there was a need.

"You already did, Josiah." Vin smiled up at Josiah tilting his head to the side revealing his eyes beneath his slouch hat.

Josiah laughed out with true joy at the tracker's words. "Glad to be of service, Brother Vin." He watched as Vin continued on towards the Telegraph Office, his steps seeming a bit lighter.

The blue-uniformed cavalry and infantry soldiers stood at attention in the already stifling heat of June, as the weary Kwahadi marched into the quadrangle of Fort Sill. Colonel Ranald Mackenzie, a taciturn and remote man in his thirties and respected Civil War veteran, watched with unguarded respect for the band of Comanches, as they entered the grounds of the post.

The cavalcade of Comanches and rawboned ponies, wearily pulling travois that carried the Kwahadi's remaining meager belongings, stopped apprehensively within the barricades of their captor's fort. The People looked to their war chief, Quanah, who stood stoically beside the Colonel, unsure of what to do next, desperate as their freedom slipped away from them.

Starvation plagued the Kwahadi, during the unrelenting assaults of the long-knives and buffalo soldiers, since the winter, forcing the People to survive on nuts, grubs and rodents. The army had sent six detachments covering the plains that kept the Kwahadi on the run. They could not hunt or kill the buffalo, dry the meat or prepare the hides for winter lodges.

Though they had their freedom, the Kwahadi knew they could not keep up this way of life before death came to them all. They would never survive the coming winter without food stores and good shelter. They could not stay in one place for fear of attack from the soldiers. Many Kwahadi were relieved when the decision was made for surrender.

Quanah watched the People as their eyes darted anxiously around the Post, noting the guardhouse with narrow windows barred, foreboding and threatening. A hushed murmuring of fear and distress grew steadily stronger, as they turned their attention to a small stone structure, the ice house, standing desolate and exposed with no roof to protect from the heat of day or the cold of bitter winter. The Comanches watched as soldiers threw raw meat over the walls, and feared for whatever it held within its' stony prison.

Colonel Mackenzie spoke resolutely to the Comanches before unrest ran through them. He conveyed his message by use of an interpreter, bidding Quanah to assure his People that no harm or imprisonment would come to them.

"You have fought well and you will not be dishonored in defeat." Colonel Mackenzie said no more, as he turned towards his quarters, dubbed the Sherman House. He had told General Philip Sheridan about his admiration for these Comanches and that he would try to grant them the honor they deserved.

The Kwahadi's life on their beloved plains no longer would be theirs, though some still chose to flee the reservation. Quanah chose opportunities given and worked with the Indian Agents to gain favor, becoming head of a "beef band"; to sort out and give government rations and beef to the People.

Quanah proved himself showing cooperation and found his status growing among all the Comanche bands, determined to learn the ways of the tahbay-boh. He had stated, if his mother could learn the Comanche ways, he could learn the white man's. Quanah wisely determined that one must know his captors to protect himself and his People. He would not allow them to surrender completely to the white man's ways.

"Colonel Mackenzie, Sir." The young Lieutenant entered the Colonel's office holding a paper in his gloved hand. "Telegram, Sir."

"Leave it," the Colonel commanded not averting his eyes from his paperwork. The Lieutenant stiffly saluted, holding it, waiting for the return salute. The Colonel feeling the presence of the young man, sharply saluted in annoyance, not raising his eyes. The interminable paperwork was an exasperating situation and beneath the dignity of a fighting soldier.

Colonel Mackenzie looked up slowly, waiting for the door to close and glanced across his desk to the telegram. With little interest, he picked it up and slowly read the brief message.

Information needed.Stop.Locate Walks in the Sun/Black Bear.Stop. Kwahadi, Comanches.Stop.Surrendered Fort Sill June.Stop.Reply to Clarion News.Stop. Four Corners, New Mexico Territory.Stop.

Mackenzie threw down the telegram with disgust. "I've no time for this. Lieutenant Cooper, Lieutenant, NOW!!"

The young officer quickly appeared at the door, shakily looking towards the Colonel, eyes wide with alarm. What had he done wrong now? He always seemed to be too inept for the Colonel. The war horse was as hard and fierce as they come. The Lieutenant had heard many stories of the Colonel's unrelenting drive, showing no mercy towards his men. He knew he was no more significant to the Colonel as a bug underfoot and chose to placate the man as best he could, trying not to be crushed in the process.

"Yes, Sir?" Lieutenant Cooper shivered at the intense stare sent his way. Oh! Lord, let him get out of this with his skin! He waited for the Colonel to speak, standing at attention. A paper was tossed in his direction across the great mahogany desk. It was that blasted telegram!

"Look into it and let me know what you find out," the Colonel directed. "Also, find out who sent the telegram. Report to me before the end of the day." The Colonel rose from his chair and walked towards a US Territorial Map hanging on the wall, his eyes searching the New Mexico Territory for the town of Four Corners.

The Lieutenant saluted and raced through the door intent on his objective, desperate to please the rankled Colonel.

It had not been an easy task, but the Lieutenant had hunted down the information the Colonel requested. He had found Quanah, an imposing Comanche with gray eyes and a hint of Anglo in his features. Quanah seemed to be in good standing with the Colonel and was more cooperative than most of the warriors.

There had been talk that Quanah was the son of Cynthia Ann Parker who had been captured by the Comanches at the age of nine. The Parkers were well know in Texas and had laid claim to a vast amount of fertile country off the Brazos. It took a strong breed of people not to uproot after the suffering that had been inflicted upon their family. The Lieutenant knew he did not possess this inner fortitude. What would he fight for to the death? His own skin! He felt a coward as he walked back to the office.

Lieutenant Cooper felt a shiver run up his spine when he thought of some of the battle hardened soldier's stories about the Indian captives. These soldiers had fought against the savages and their stories were so brutal and vivid that the young, naive Lieutenant had to run away before spewing his dinner in front of them.

He thought of their raucous laughter following him as he fled in haste and embarrassment. The Lieutenant was relieved that the Comanches had been subdued and were safely captive on the reservation. He knew he would not be brave enough to sustain the torment that the soldiers spoke. He slept fitfully all night long, and the occasional sleep had been filled with dreams of savage torture.

He entered the office disturbed with himself at his cowardice. His only comfort was his ability to acknowledge his shortcomings. He did not view himself as more than what he was and felt uplifted by own his self-acceptance. He felt safe in this benign territory knowing that he would not have to prove his mettle. This gave him a sense of relief and calmed his fears.

The young Lieutenant sat down at his desk and wrote down the information he had procured. The Clarion was owned by Mrs. Mary Travis, daughter-in-law to a Circuit Judge, Orin Travis. He concluded that Mrs. Travis was working on a story for her newspaper about the plight of the Comanches. It seemed innocuous enough to the Lieutenant. He reviewed the information he had garnered and hoped that it was thorough and would not cause any distress to the Colonel, which in turn would come back to him. He sighed and forced himself to enter the office of the irascible, imposing man.

"Enter." The Colonel was standing at the map reviewing what seemed to the Lieutenant to be past victories. There was a distant look in the Colonel's eyes that possessed a light of fury and a hint of sorrow.

"What have you found out, Lieutenant Cooper?" Colonel Mackenzie walked back to his desk and sat down wearily into his chair.

"Sir, I spoke with the Comanche, Quanah. He stated that Walks in the Sun had been killed years ago during a Texas Ranger raid against the Kwahadi." The Lieutenant paused waiting for the Colonel to speak.

"What of the other?" The Colonel looked at the young Officer with unwavering intensity waiting for his answer.

Lieutenant Cooper looked at the Colonel suspiciously, his senses on high alert. Was he being tested? He cleared his throat loudly, taking a deep breath. "Quanah stated that he was gone." The Lieutenant shifted his feet nervously.

"And what does that mean, Lieutenant Cooper?" Colonel Mackenzie still did not turn his gaze away from the Lieutenant.

Gone. That was what Quanah had said, gone. The Lieutenant did not question the response. He presumed that Black Bear was also dead. The Lieutenant had not pursued the issue. Oh, God! He wished the floor would open up and allow him to disappear from those eyes, from that man who now glowered at him.

"Sir, I concluded that Black Bear was deceased." Lieutenant Cooper waited for the stern admonishment that seemed to be a daily occurrence.

"Well, Lieutenant Cooper, let me enlighten you. I have just received word about Comanches that have left the reservation. In that group was a well-known and respected warrior by the name of Black Bear." The Colonel stood intimidating the young Officer with his rigid comportment. He continued, as he walked towards the Lieutenant.

"Gone, as Quanah stated means gone, as in left the reservation." The Colonel looked directly into Lieutenant Cooper's eyes. "Get me Agent Haworth and Quanah Parker. Also, locate an interpreter, immediately. I will write the response to the telegram and you will send it. Is that clear, Lieutenant?" The Colonel turned and walked back to his chair. Looking up towards the young officer, he waved his hand in the air as if shooing away an insect. "Dismissed."

The Lieutenant saluted and waited patiently for the return salute that was given with diffidence. "Yes, Sir." He hastily left the office grateful to be alive.

"Telegram, Mrs. Travis." Mary Travis looked down at the young messenger boy as he floated the telegram towards her in a quick motion, and turned on his heels, racing down the boardwalk towards his other deliveries.

Mary startled a moment at the speed of the boy, and quickly released a "Thank you, Matthew" that seemed to hang in the air, not reaching him in time. Turning towards the Clarion, a smile crossed her face when she heard the youthful voice call out, "Yer Welcome!".

"Good Morning, Mary." Chris Larabee stood beside Mary glancing at the telegram in her hand. Mary entered the office beckoning Chris inside.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, Chris?" Mary asked, putting the telegram on the table and heading toward the stove in the back room.

"Yes. Thanks, Mary." Chris sat on a stool waiting for her to return. He watched her appreciably as she walked towards him. Her blonde hair worn loose ran down the length of her back. The blue eyes shone brightly with intelligence and a deep compassion. Her loveliness suffocated him at times and he often felt the need to flee. He stood on the fringe with her, not able to nor allowing himself entry.

"It should be heated in a few minutes." Mary's soft voice lightly touched the edge of his thoughts causing him to look up at her slightly disconcerted. She stood close to him and he breathed in the scent of her with a longing, a need that he knew would never be realized. Chris sighed deeply and turned away from her glance, directing his eyes to the telegram on the table.

"Yes, I should find him and let him know it's here." Mary walked to the door and looked out hoping to see the tracker. "Is he around?" Mary knew that Vin would sometimes leave the town and head for open spaces.

"He should be. Didn't mention otherwise," Chris shrugged. "I was headed for the jail, thought he might be there." Chris again glanced at the telegram and then at Mary. "Is he lookin' for his family?"

Mary looked intently at Chris, knowing that he was not a man to idly talk about others' affairs and was asking only out of a concern for Vin. With that knowledge in mind, she looked at Chris and nodded her head. "Yes, he's trying to locate his adopted mother and father."

Mary turned towards the back room and quickly made her way to the stove. She returned carrying two cups of coffee and sat down next to Chris. "I hope the news is good, but there has been so much bloodshed on both sides." Her eyes filled with tears of sympathy.

Chris reached out and gently touched her hand. "He'll be fine, Mary. No matter what the outcome, he'll be all right."

Mary looked into Chris' eyes and saw a determination that would not allow things to be otherwise. "I know he will, Chris," Mary whispered softly, her breath touching lightly across his cheek.

Chris drew back at the closeness of her, jumping up abruptly from the table, leaving his coffee untouched as he walked quickly to the door. His actions caused dismay to rise up in Mary, her cheeks turning crimson with hurt and anger.

"Thank you for the coffee and the company, Mary." Chris' eyes lingered on Mary for a long moment. She sensed he wanted to say more to her, but something held him back. He turned away from her and walked out the door. Mary watched him disappear into the dusty haze and bright sunlight as he made his way down the boardwalk.

It was taking too long! A week's time had gone by and still no telegram. Vin was not one to be impatient, knowing how to patient better than anyone. Sometimes on the hunt, he would wait for days in one place, not moving, just watching and waiting. Keeping his temper reined in, keeping patient was one of the boyhood lessons he learned from the People and he was always rewarded with a successful hunt of deer, antelope or buffalo.

Vin would carry the deer to the camp on horseback, but the buffalo needed to be found and taken care of by the women. They would skin it and cut the flesh into strips and would prepare the buffalo hides, making them soft and pliable which took up to three weeks of hard work. Vin wanted to help his mother in her toils, but this was not the custom among the People.

He had great respect for the women of the Kwahadi for they carried most of the burden within the band. The teepees were set up and taken down within minutes by the women. They were hardworking and skilled at their tasks and expressed no complaints. Vin knew this to be the way of the People and their means of survival. The men were the providers of food and the protectors of the band. When they were not on the war trail or hunt, their days were spent training their horses, making and repairing weapons or in idle quietude. This did not abide well with Vin and he would find tasks to occupy himself through those tedious times. He was patient then, and he'll just have to be patient now.

Vin shifted in the chair, slouching lower, tilting his hat over his eyes. The jail was quiet and the morning light filtered through the windows giving it a warmth that blanketed over him. Vin started to drift off, but the sound of footsteps outside the door, brought him to attention. He sat up abruptly, grabbing at his Mare's leg, eyeing the door and slowly settling back when he no longer sensed danger.

Chris entered with a grin, knowing that Vin was alert and very much aware of his presence, even though his outward sign showed no reaction. Vin sat quietly with his hat over his eyes, seeming to be asleep. Chris knew better, a man like Vin was mindful of all that went on around him, his life depended on it.

"Hey, Cowboy." Vin sat up slowly lifting his hat off his angular features revealing a lively smile. " You been busy with a purty newspaper lady?"

Chris looked at him with a grimace on his face. How did he know? Chris took his time to respond to the taunting. He was just guessing. "None of your damn business." Chris turned his back on the tracker sitting down at the desk. He smiled over at Vin and then turned his attention to the stack of papers, studying the wanted posters.

"I got some information for ya, but just for that last comment, I'm not so sure I'm gonna share it." Chris leaned back in the chair, bringing his booted feet up to rest on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. He sat back smugly, grinning over at Vin.

"Ya'll share it, if'n y' value that purty face of yers." Vin smiled at Chris, showing a high-spirited glint in his eyes.

"Tanner, your 'bout as scary as a hibernatin' grizzly." Chris laughed loudly at his joke.

"Ever woke one up?" Vin rose up tall, standing in front of Chris, making a move to knock his feet off the desk. Chris shifted his booted feet, anticipating Vin's movement.

"You can move right quick fer an old man." Vin sat back down, disgusted that Chris had outmaneuvered him, but Vin knew, if it was someone else and the game was for higher stakes, he would be the winner.

Chris laughed out loudly and put his feet back on the floor, looking over at Vin who was working hard on a scowl and trying not to let out a laugh.

"It won't kill ya Vin." Chris waited for Vin to glance over at him, knowing Vin would have that exasperated look on his face that was a mix of *don't waste my damn time* and *what the hell are y' talkin' 'bout*? Just the thought of it made Chris laugh even louder.

"Y'all reckon yer so damn funny." Vin rubbed his hand along his forehead. "And what the hell are ya talkin' about?" Vin paused and took his hat off his head, rubbing his hands through his hair. "What ain't goin' t' kill me?"

"Laughin', Vin." Chris laughed at the look of amazement that crossed Vin's face. "Laughin', Tanner. Give it a try."

"Yer given *me* schoolin' on laughin'." Vin stood up shaking his head. "The world must be comin' t' an end. Where's Josiah? I need t' do me some repentin'." Vin cussed loudly, while Chris listened with admiration, shaking his head at the extent of the tracker's vocabulary.

"Someone taught ya real well." Chris grinned at the man sitting across from him. He hadn't felt this lighthearted in years. Damn, it felt good! "Hey, Vin before the devil himself comes to get ya, Mary's got a telegram for ya. And you better watch your language."

"Aw hell, Chris, I respect *Mary*." Vin stood up tipping his hat to Chris, opening the door quietly and disappearing into the stream of light that spilled into the room.

Chris' smile slowly faded from his face as the morning light skirted across the papers on his desk, drawing his eye. His mind pondered on another paper, needing it greatly to bear good news.

Vin stood at the door of the Clarion watching with amusement as Mary fought defiantly with a brute of a printing press. He laughed aloud as he heard her curse in a very delicate fashion. She turned towards Vin frowning with irritation as her face colored with shame at being caught using language not befitting a lady. Her ink-stained hands exasperatingly worked strands of free-falling hair away from her face as she attempted to control her annoyance at the troublesome machinery.

"Reckon that beast is a mite fractious." Vin walked towards the printing press and then back to Mary. "Anythin' I c'n do t' help?"

Mary shook her head in defeat as she stood beside Vin looking at the press with a pained expression on her face. "The platen seems to be jammed again." Mary wiped her hands on her apron. "I'll need to loosen up the bolts and realign it." Mary smiled up at Vin. "It seems to be our daily ritual."

"I c'n give ya a hand," Vin quietly offered, looking over the printing press, not quite sure what a platen was or where it might be setting.

"It's all right, Vin. I can take care of it later, but thank you." Mary sat down at the workbench looking up at Vin, suddenly recalling with a start, why the tracker must be at her office. Her eyes scanned the papers across the room on her desk. She walked over grabbing the folded note on top of a stack of blank sheets of paper.

Vin watched Mary make her way towards the desk, reaching for the telegram. A twinge of nerves gripped him as she walked back to the workbench, handing the paper to him. Mary saw Vin's hand tremble as he took the paper from her. Her heartbeat quickened as she watched Vin look apprehensively at the telegram.

"Would you like me to read it for you, Vin?" Mary wanted to soothe his disquiet. Vin looked at Mary with gratitude, not sure if he could make out the words, his thinking was so addled.

"I surely would appreciate that, Mary." Vin rubbed his fingers across his chin and smiled. "B'sides it was sent t' ya'll." Mary laughed softly, knowing Vin was teasing her trying to quell his uneasiness.

Mary sat on the stool beside Vin and opened up the telegram. She began to read the message, her heart sinking at the first words. Her eyes filled with tears as she read aloud to Vin.

Walks in the Sun Deceased.StopRanger Attack winter of '60.StopBlack Bear Renegade.StopArmy in Pursuit.StopInterference will not be tolerated.Stop Colonel Ranald Mackenzie.StopUnited States Army.Stop.Fort Sill,Indian Territory.Stop.

Vin's breathing became labored as he tried to lay hold of the words that Mary read to him. *Deceased*. Vin no longer was listening as his mind wrapped around the word. Walks in the Sun had died that day and he did not know it. He had not sensed that she was no longer living. He had left her to die, alone!

Vin stood upright with a force that caused the stool to fall backwards, startling Mary. The look in Vin's eyes filled her with concern and she spoke his name. Vin did not answer her as he bolted through the door of the Clarion, and headed for the livery. Air, he needed air!

Mary followed closely behind Vin calling to him desperately, reaching for his arm. She watched Vin as he quickened his pace, running away from her pleadings. Frantically, she turned and ran towards the jail, hoping to find Chris.

Wailing filled his ears and warriors cutting strips from their hair assailed him as he spurred Peso into a headlong gallop towards the wilds. He could never get accustomed to the mourning of the People. It would unsettle him and he would flee from the sorrow and make camp, alone. The mourning would last for days at a time, unrelenting, agonizing cries that tore into his whole being. It was a grief so strong, so uncontrolled that he could not escape from it.

Vin reined in Peso abruptly, as he jumped from the saddle. He fell to the ground on his knees and began a death chant that came from some remembrance buried deep, deep down inside him. Vin sang for two mothers and allowed himself to mourn.

"Aheya aheya ya-heyo
Ya eye heyo aheyo-
O Sun, you live forever
But, we must die-
O Earth, you remain forever
But, we must die..." *
*Set-tank (Sitting Bear) death chant

The hair of the warrior was meaningful and this was taught to Vin. It was believed that the spirit or shade would be destroyed and not be able to enter the afterlife, if the person was scalped in death. The cutting of hair was a sign showing the fullness of their sorrow. Vin raised his eyes upward and took his knife from the sheath and sliced a lock of his long hair in keeping with the mourning of the People.

Vin knelt for hours in sorrow, never mourning for his mother when she had died. He had been taken away when he was five and could not remember saying good-bye. Vin had not been given that time to mourn; it had not been allowed. He was filled with a grief he could not hold back and his heart seemed almost to breaking.

Chris watched from a distance, listening to the anguish of the stalwart man who knelt on the ground, keening in the dialect of the People. Chris knew the heartache had been kept silenced for too long. He would not intrude on this man's grief, but would wait for however long it took, and would be vigilant. Chris would watch Vin's back now and always. He settled himself against a rock and waited.

Vin knew Chris was there watching out for him and shame overcame him at the knowing of being seen with his soul so openly unguarded. Vin could not seem to move his body upward for his dishonor and disgrace so heavily burdened him. He had always kept his sentiment bridled. Vin heard the booted steps approaching him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the gamma grasses that rose around his kneeling legs.

"Vin," Chris spoke softly, not wanting to startle the wary man. "Let's go, alright?"

Vin slowly stood up, but did not look at Chris. He averted his eyes looking into to the distance, staring at the cottonwoods that swayed in the dry winds. He sighed deeply, readying himself to face Chris Larabee. Before he had a chance to speak, Chris reached out his hand towards Vin, giving a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder.

"It's between you and me, Vin. Nobody's got t' know." Chris spoke with conviction, mindful that Vin was feeling unsteady by all that came to pass.

Vin's gaze slowly reached Chris' eyes, showing shame and gratitude. Chris held Vin's glance, forcing the reticent man to remain focused on him. Chris' eyes never wavering as he nodded his head, showing Vin a depth of understanding that only a man who has endured the same suffering and loss could disclose.

Vin nodded his head to Chris and they grasped arms tightly. As they released their grip, Vin spoke with a voice raspy from grief, "Thanks, Chris."

"Let's go home, Cowboy." Chris walked Peso over to Vin handing him the reins. They mounted their horses and cantered off together in silence.

Chris and Vin had a quiet meal at the saloon before turning in for the evening. Each one immersed in his reverie of past grief and disconsolation. Vin, disquieted over his show of debility, was comforted by Larabee's silent strength by his side.

Walking towards Vin's wagon, Chris sighed bringing the night air deep into his lungs. He turned to Vin and spoke quietly, as he watched the moon's light reflect off the sorrowed eyes of the tracker.

"We'll work it out tomorrow." Chris looked at Vin purposefully, not sure if Vin had a grasp on the whole telling of the telegram he had received.

Vin looked at Chris questioningly, his eyes like flint. "Nothin' t'work out, Chris. Dead is dead." Chris winced at the roughness of the words that Vin spit out into the black stillness of night.

"Not what I'm talkin' 'bout, Vin." Chris steadied himself against the wagon and waited for Vin's ire to recede. Vin raised his eyes to Chris with a wordless apology and Chris nodded to him showing his discernment.

"What then, Chris?" Vin was weary and wanted to retreat from the day's occurrences with sleep, though the worry of troublesome dreams nipped at his thoughts.

Chris reached into his pants' pocket and retrieved, the now creased and wrinkled paper. He wordlessly handed it over to Vin, watching as Vin hesitatingly, extended his hand out to it. Vin shook his head and looked at the telegram.

"Don't want t'go there now, Chris." Vin continued looking at the paper in his hand, recalling the words that unleashed year's of pain.

"I know that pard, but there's more t'it." Chris waited while his words wrapped around Vin's thoughts. It had been a hard day for the sharpshooter and Chris sensed the enormity of Vin's weariness in body and spirit.

"Just say it plain, then." Vin supported himself with his back against the wagon, bracing for whatever Chris was pondering.

"Black Bear left Fort Sill. The Army is after him and some others." Chris glanced at Vin's guarded expression for an instant, then continued. "Army's not goin' t' allow anyone t' go barging in on them."

Vin eyes narrowed at those words and then back at Chris. He waited a spell before he spoke, quieting his hostility. "I musta b'n woolgatherin' when Mary was readin' t'me." Vin looked up at the bright stars, the position of the dipper and the north star indicating that it was nearing ten o'clock.

Chris sighed, mindful that it was more than woolgathering that hindered Vin from hearing the telegram. As Chris waited for Vin to go on, he studied the boardwalk and shadows out of an instinct bred of survival.

"He's my kin, Chris," Vin stated plainly and Chris nodded his head knowing what that meant.

"All right." Chris put out his hand to Vin and they clasped arms. "We'll talk in the mornin'. Get some shut-eye."

Vin watched as Chris walked away and disappeared into the blackness, becoming one with the night.

Vin saddled Peso talking to the horse in soft, soothing tones endeavoring to calm the excitable nature of the blazed-face gelding. Peso chose to be still for the moment and Vin rewarded him with dried pieces of apple as he gently patted the flank of the gelding with deep fondness. Vin walked Peso from the livery and mounted with a casual grace. He glanced around at the empty boardwalks and road, grateful for the solitude. Turning Peso east, Vin headed towards Nettie's homestead as the shades of daybreak embraced him.

Vin wanted to be away from the town before daylight. He needed to see Nettie, not necessarily to speak, but to be with her. Her bearing always brought him a comfort that quieted him like no one could. Pondering on those words, Vin chawed on his friendship with Chris. That ornery cowboy brought an ease to him, also. A grin came to him, pleased at the notion.

Vin would palaver with Chris and the boys when he returned to town. He had not decided what course to take to help his father. Vin knew that Black Bear would, more than likely, head on to Mexico. It would be a long and dangerous journey and it needed some studying. He did not want the men to come to any harm, if they chose to ride with him.

It was not something he was use to, men standing by him. It was hard to accept their help, their concern, their loyalty. Was it because he felt undeserving or was it because practiced ways were difficult to set aside? Vin was not sure of that or anything else.

Things were getting more convoluted all the time. The more folks in your life, the more muddled up things became. He sighed, surrendering to his entanglement of having friends. It brought a wry grin to his face and a quiet laugh, never did he think that his quandary would be having too many folks caring about him. Vin shook his head with wonderment and with a slight touch of his heels, spurred Peso into a gallop down the road.

Mary entered the saloon prudently, her eyes darting over the unkempt patrons leaning on the bar and sprawled at tables, in search of Chris Larabee. Oftentimes, the men would gather for breakfast and companionable talk filled with ribald jokes and good-natured banter. Ezra Standish saw Mary enter the saloon and observed her discomfort as she viewed the dingy room and its' breakfasting reprobates. He gallantly strode to her rescue, extending his arm and escorting her to the men's table.

"Gentlemen, we are fortunate, indeed, this fine morning to have the pleasure of the lovely Mrs. Travis' company. Would someone be kind enough to offer Mrs. Travis a seat?" Ezra looked pointedly at J.D., who looked up at Ezra exhibiting a blank expression.

"A chair, Mr. Dunne, a chair." Ezra appeared rankled at the unrefined behavior displayed by the young man.

"That's quite alright, Mr. Standish, J.D." Mary graciously declined and turned her attention to the intense stare of Chris Larabee.

"What is it, Mary?" Chris asked as he rose to bring her a chair, placing it at the table near him. "Sit, please."

Mary nodded and sat down, waiting for Chris to do the same, before she spoke. As Chris sat, he turned his gaze to her, green eyes questioning.

"Mr. Larabee," Mary paused, reproaching herself for appearing so formal. " Chris, I took it upon myself to get more information about the *situation*." Mary was being cryptic, not sure how much the other men knew.

Chris nodded to Mary understanding her hesitation. "The boys know, Mary. I just got finished tellin' 'em the circumstances."

Mary looked at each man before she continued and pulled out a telegram from her dress pocket. "I sent a telegraph off just to see what information I could obtain. The Army was more than cooperative, when I mentioned I was inquiring for the Clarion newspaper. I'm sure they're concerned with people's ire at renegades on the loose."

Mary looked again at each man noting their approval. "Black Bear has been on the run for two weeks and Colonel Mackenzie has sent a warrior named Quanah to capture and return the renegades to Fort Sill. They've been in pursuit for a week. The soldiers are heading towards the Pecos River."

Mary sighed and brought her full attention to Chris. "That's all the information I could gather so far. I hope it's helpful for Vin." Mary stood up gracefully, motioning the men to stay seated, as a warm smile enveloped her lovely features. " Well, good day gentlemen and enjoy your breakfast."

Chris stood and walked Mary to the batwing doors, holding one open for her with an outstretched arm. As she brushed along his side softly, a fire rose up in him at the passing touch and he inhaled sharply, attempting to subdue the wanting that filled him. Mary's face heightened with color as she stood on the boardwalk, waiting for Chris to approach her. Her hands trembled slightly and she became annoyed at herself for her school girl behavior.

Chris stood before her with a smile that made her weak at the sight of it. He was a handsome man with eyes that were tender and deadly, a combination that caused terror and need to rise up in her. She wanted this man to be a part of her life, but was afraid for the wanting.

"Thank you, Mary. I appreciate all yer doin' for Vin." Chris looked into her eyes and a sadness passed through him, knowing the wanting was not enough. Mary was needful of more than he could give and Chris would not allow her to settle for less than she deserved.

"You know how I feel about Vin." Mary stared intently into his eyes wanting to complete the words with . . . and you. She sighed softly, knowing it would be sometime before those thoughts were given flight. "If I hear anything else, I'll let you know."

"Thank you again, Mary." Affection for her apparent in his voice, husky with emotions he thought long since buried with his wife and son.

"When will you be leaving?" Mary faced him with eyes clear and steady, tucking away the wishing for the moment as she considered the needs of the town. "Will you all be going?"

Mary knew in burgeoning western town, there was always trouble at every turn. Lawless men with too many idle hours, too much hostility and too little regard for life would lay to ruin anything in their path, her own life a reflection of that violence. A shiver ran through her at the memory and she waited for Chris' reply, clasping her hands tightly together to control her anxiety.

"Ezra and Buck will stay in town." Chris reached out to her and touched her hand reassuringly. "You'll be fine, Mary. Hopefully, we'll be back in four, five weeks time."

Mary nodded and started to turn away. "Good luck, Chris. Keep safe." Mary smiled sadly, "Tell Vin . . . wish him luck for me and let him know he's in my thoughts."

"I'll do that, Mary. We'll be back soon enough." Chris watched her walk away, her hair flowing like a river of golden light that kept his eye as she moved with an unassuming elegance down the length of the boardwalk and still continued watching, even as she disappeared from view, captivated with the memory of her. Taking off his hat, he ran his hands through his blond hair and shook his head purposefully, reclaiming his reasoning and strode back into the saloon.

Nettie strolled over to the steps of her porch as she watched the lean, loose figure of the man, she had come to care for deeply, ride in towards her. His slouch hat was angled low over his revealing eyes, as he reined in Peso in front of her.

'Morning, Son." Nettie smiled warmly at Vin. "Git that mule settled and come in fer some breakfast. You c'n use some meat on those bones of yers."

"Yes, ma'am." Vin reined Peso towards the barn, aware of Nettie's eyes on him as he went.

"Git a move on." With those words, Nettie turned into the house to prepare a repast, befitting a growing boy.

Vin stood on the porch looking out towards the distant hills surrounding Nettie's homestead, as he thought of his father. A man whom he had not seen in over a decade and more, but the memories strong as if Vin was still that young boy. It was a time of joy and of family that Vin carried in his heart.

He learned about the land and all the mysteries of the People during those years. His father patiently guided him in the ways of hunting and tracking. He acquainted Vin with the caring, breeding and training of horses and showed him how to ride a pony like a true Comanche. A smile played across his angular features and kindled his blue eyes as he recalled the exhilaration of riding suspended from the side of a pony with a speed faster than a fierce wind, chasing the buffalo.

It brought Vin a sadness at the knowing that a freedom so pure would never be his again nor that of the People. The tahbay-boh did not have the sensibility to lay hold of what was truly of value, destroying a People, a way of living and to Vin, destroying the nearest thing to God on this earth.

Vin's eyes filled slightly, as he became overwhelmed by the loss and took a breath trying to steady his emotions. He felt a firm hand enfold around his waist and he grabbed hold of it. Nettie was there for him strong, good-hearted and loving. It brought comfort to Vin and he looked at her, giving a smile that filled Nettie's heart.

Nettie took in the sight of Vin, a handsome boy beneath the buckskin coat and unruly hair with expressive, blue eyes. She took off his hat, letting it fall down his back hanging by the stampede strings, and gently pushed away light brown strands of hair from his face. Her hand softly traced the side of his cheek and jaw and she rested it on his chest, looking into his eyes.

No words were spoken, yet she knew he had come to tell her something, to unburden himself. Nettie waited knowing it was difficult for Vin to share, not because he was uncaring, but because he cared too much and was hurt too often. She waited, holding her hand on his heart, letting him know he was safe with her, no matter what he did or said.

Vin looked into Nettie's eyes and lightly whispered a kiss across her weathered cheek. Nettie dropped her head down and a smile came to her delighted by his offering of endearment. She looked up at him and patted his face softly, her eyes inviting him to speak. A shy smile crossed his face, as unease crept over him at the closeness of the moment. She sensed his disquiet and took his hand, leading him down the steps.

"Let's git us some air." Nettie placed her hand through the crook of his arm and they walked together silently, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the gentle touch of the breezes that passed through their hair.

The silence was not uncomfortable, but enjoyable, and Vin held on to this time, locking it away in his heart with all pleasant memories that were too few in his life. He knew Nettie was waiting for him to speak of whatever was on his mind, but did not prod. He smiled knowing Nettie had a sense of him and accepted his ways.

As they made their way to the stream that had only months ago been so close to taking away another person in Vin Tanner's life, he stopped and turned to Nettie, still with his hat off and enjoying the freedom of it, and spoke softly. Nettie strained to hear as his words drifted quietly by her.

"Sometimes things just ain't right." Vin paused trying to put into words the ache that he had in his heart. "I stopped questionin' life a long time ago."

Vin turned to Nettie and with great care, helped her get comfortable on the grassy edge of the stream bank. He squatted down beside her, all bone and sinew wrapped up in buckskin, arms hanging loose over his knees, while his hands touched the grasses and his eyes watched the low waters of early summer drift by almost motionless.

"I got things that I need to git squared away. Make 'em right, if'n I c'n." Vin looked over at Nettie who turned to him, her eyes questioning.

"What do y' need t' do, Son?" Nettie reached over to hold his hand and he allowed this, seeing the misgiving in her eyes.

"Well, Miz Nettie y' might not know this, but I lived fer a spell with the Comanches when I was a youngin'." Nettie nodded her head, her eyes imploring him to continue. "The People treated me kindly and I was takin' care of better than I c'n remember aft'r my ma's passin'."

"There's good folks, Indian or white, no matter what the differences." Nettie shifted herself to face Vin, still grasping his hand, endeavoring to hold fast to the unguarded union. She was grateful that he had found some kindness along the way.

Vin gave Nettie's hand a gentle pulse of his slender fingers and smiled, letting her know her words were appreciated. "The family that took me in. . .my adopted kin, well, Walks in the Sun died 'n Black Bear's on the run from the reservation over at Fort Sill." Vin shifted his legs slightly as Nettie watched, calling to mind his ability to stay still and balanced for hours at a time. "Goin' t' help him git home."

Nettie was perplexed by Vin's words. "Home t' where, Son?" Nettie watched Vin's eyes search the distant hills. She spoke, pulling his eyes back to her. "T' live here?"

"No, not here." Vin did not give her more, as his eyes continued to search the hills.

"What are y' lookin' for, Vin?" Nettie paused. "What are y' seein' in those hills?"

Vin sighed deeply and looked Nettie square in the eyes. "Ghosts." Vin stood abruptly and reached down towards Nettie, offering her assistance in standing. "Just ghosts."

Nettie was not sure how to respond, but persisted, trying to decipher the meaning behind those words. "We all see ghosts from time t' time, Son."

Vin nodded his head before speaking," Reckon I'll be ridin' int'a passle of 'em."

Nettie was growing frustrated. "Vin, talk t' me plain, boy. I don't understand."

"Nothin' t' understand, Nettie. It's dead 'n buried now. Gone." Vin looked at Nettie, apologetically. "I'm sorry, Miz Nettie. I don't mean t' upset ya like this."

"Nonsense, Son." Nettie patted his hand affectionately. "You just promise me one thing. You bring yerself home t' me in one piece. Ya hear me?' Nettie looked intently into Vin's eyes, her hands holding firm to his shoulders. "You take care 'n don't cause me any fret."

Nettie gathered Vin in her arms and he placed his head on her shoulder, giving her a hug filled with a fondness that brought tears to Nettie's eyes.

Nettie gave Vin one last hug and pushed him to arm's length looking up at him. "Yer makin' an ol' woman cry." Nettie smiled. "You git along back t' town. You got alot t' git done 'fore ya go."

Vin smiled. "Yes, ma'am." He turned towards the barn to ready Peso, but stopped abruptly turning to Nettie. "You be here when I git back."

"I ain't goin' anywhere, Son," Nettie called out to him reassuringly. Vin turned again towards the barn, aware of Nettie's eyes on him as he went.

The six men were seated at their table, waiting for Vin to arrive. Decisions had been made and duties were assigned by Chris, the men acquiescing without question. Buck and Ezra were to remain in town to watch over things and the rest where agreeable to traveling with Chris and Vin to Texas.

Unease lay heavy on Chris and Buck, each having their own concerns about the journey. Buck, disquieted over J.D. traveling through country that was dangerous and deadly, filled with comancheros, outlaws and renegades. Chris, troubled over Vin going back to Texas, though Tascosa was hundreds of miles away, a bounty had no boundaries. Their eyes locked sensing the tension in each other, a bond built over the years of friendship, knowing when the other was unsettled.

"It'll be fine, Chris." Buck, always the first to offer reassurance, being blessed with an optimistic nature. "Ya do what needs doin' 'n y'git yer asses back here quick."

Chris let out a laugh, turning to Buck with a grin. "Seems easy enough." The other men joined in with the laughter, pushing aside their worries for the moment.

Nathan looked around at the men. "That Colonel Mackenzie is a tough one. Him 'n the 4th Calvary got 'emselves a reputation fer bein' relentless. Mackenzie 'n those Buffalo Soldiers are purty much responsible fer subduin' the Kiowas 'n Comanches. His battle strategies b'n used over 'n over by other Officers. Heard tell that Colonel Mackenzie went int' Mexico with the 4th 'n raided the Kickapoo-Apaches camps. Eighty miles non-stop, hardly any water, no sleep. Men were falling out of their saddles when they finally crossed back over the border. The Colonel said that it was his decision t' cross int' Mexico 'n he woulda had any man who refused t' go shot dead."

The men were silent, not liking the odds that they might have to face, and not wanting to go against the Army. Ezra shuffled his cards and looked around the table at the men. "It seems you may be confronting a very formidable adversary."

Josiah had been silent through Nathan's account of the Colonel. He raised his beer to his lips and drank deeply, setting it down, he turned to Chris. "Does Brother Vin have a plan or is he runnin' blind on emotion?"

Chris stared at Josiah coldly, before speaking, "You know Vin wouldn't do anything without thinkin' it out, especially if our lives are dependin' on it."

Josiah nodded knowing Chris was right. Vin Tanner would die first before he let any of them be put in danger. "Yer right, Chris. Brother Vin is more than circumspect. I never met a more prudent man."

"What?" J.D. didn't understand one thing Josiah said and he was starting to get rankled. Did Vin have a plan or not? Before J.D voiced his question again, Ezra spoke up quickly, not sure if Chris was in the humor to be pestered by the youth's many questions.

"Mr. Dune let me clarify in a fashion that you might comprehend." Ezra gave a winning smile to J.D., before continuing on with his interpretation. "Mr. Sanchez is aware that Mr. Tanner would never place any of us in a precarious situation, and he is more than prepared when he endeavors to take on, what may appear to be insurmountable odds."

J.D. shook his head in disgust. " Ezra, your answer is more highfalutin then Josiah's."

Buck looked at J.D. and ran his fingers through his mustache. "Listen, J.D. what Ezra, Josiah and Chris are sayin', now listen close 'cause I ain't plannin' on repeatin' m'self. They're sayin', that Vin will have a plan and that he will make sure yer safe no matter what the cost."

"Oh ... well, why didn't ya say so in the first place." J.D. stood up with disgust and walked to the bar, getting himself a beer. Sometimes they made him feel so stupid, he could just spit. He looked over at the men, their eyes intense and anxious, working on plans and hashing out details that J.D. knew would be a means to saving their lives, if the need arose.

Yes, they were smart men, all of them and very aware of the dangers that they might face and they would go just the same because a friend needed them. They would go without question, without hesitation, even if it cost their lives. J.D. swallowed hard, emotions rising within him, as he watched these fine men that allowed him to be a part of them. He walked back to the table, no longer angry and very much willing to listen and to learn.

"Whata 'bout this Quanah that Mary mentioned?" J.D. asked as he sat back down with the men. "Vin said he knew him, do ya think that might help?"

Chris looked over at Nathan for any information he might have on the Comanche *chief* Quanah. "Chris, ya prob'bly know jes' as much as me. He's a fierce fighter and Mackenzie had a hell of a time gettin' the Kwahadi to surrender to Fort Sill." Nathan shrugged his shoulders, not knowing if Quanah would be a help or a hindrance to them.

Josiah turned to Chris. "Well, Brothers the way I see it is that Quanah may be just as much of a threat as the Colonel, himself. My counsel would be to keep an eye to the Lord and a hand on the gun."

The men suppressed sardonic laughter that mingled with the slurred voices of drunken patrons and coy banter of saloon girls, drifting and floating out into the black night.

"What time ya got, Buck?" Chris' eyes fixed themselves on the saloon doors waiting for Vin Tanner to appear.

Buck reached into his vest pocket and took out his old "turnip" pocket watch, turning it towards the brighter light of the saloon. "It's late, Chris. That boy shoulda b'n back by now." Buck looked at Chris, a question hanging between the two men. Buck voiced what they all where pondering. "You don't think he lit out already?"

"Dammit, Tanner." Chris rose up like a shot, walking towards the batwing doors, angrily pushing through them, nearly detaching them from their hinges.

J.D. was the first to speak as the rest of the men collected themselves. "Chris sure is mad!"

"That's quite an understatement, my dear boy." Ezra shook his head with sympathy for the tracker. "Quite an understatement." The men quickly gulped down their beers and rose together, hoping to thwart disaster.

He lay back with his head resting against the saddle, looking up at the night sky, brilliant with stars. The Big Dipper was angled slightly southwest of the North Star showing that it was two o'clock. Vin had gotten very little sleep. He knew Larabee was, more than likely, madder than all hell at him for not coming back to town. Vin wasn't ready to return yet, not wanting to feud with the boys. He had decided against having them ride with him and he knew, if he went back, they would not take no for an answer. Damn fools! Vin did not want to go against the Army and he hoped it would not come to that. He would not let any of the boys get in the middle of it, not even Chris.

Vin lay still for a while wanting to silence the worry that filled him. He grumbled to himself rising to sit cross-legged with his back resting against the saddle. Might as well get up, can't sleep now, no how. Vin stood up gathering his scant belongings and saddled Peso. He had to get back to his wagon and collect his Sharps, ammunition, and supplies that he had gathered together the day he sent off the telegram to Fort Sill. He had to do this unnoticed and light out of town before the men awoke.

It was quiet as Vin came into town, working his way around the livery and heading towards his wagon. The slumbering town appeared peaceable and Vin kept to the shadows, blending into the black layers of the night. The only sounds were the winds playing at the store signs; a repetitive bang that became almost calming. Dustdevils danced and twirled through the town, descending on the boardwalks, that were pointlessly swept with care each day by the shopkeepers.

As Vin reached the wagon, he dismounted silently and tethered Peso, talking to him in a soft voice. He would have to take the gelding to the livery and make preparations for their long journey. Peso needed to be curried, fed, watered and rested. Vin smiled recalling the times when the comforts were scarce and they made due and survived with very little. Thriving on the hardship of the wilds, they became stronger and more untamed with each day. They learned to travel on little water, sometimes little food and many a night with little sleep. This journey would be no different and Vin was prepared for whatever encumbrances that came to pass.

The livery was empty and he methodically and deftly cared for Peso. Vin packed a supply of pemmican, dried meat strips made with mesquite beans and bone marrow, flavored with fruits and nuts, which was very much to his liking. He gathered several canteens filling them with water. A large sheath would later be shored on Peso's flank which would carry his .50 caliber Sharps, his cherished buffalo rifle.

Vin was pretty near finished with his readying for the journey and he had Peso all saddled and geared. He walked out of the livery, leaving the gelding in his stall and headed for the wagon, making sure he had all the necessities packed up in his saddle bags. He grabbed an extra shirt, though cleanliness was not going to be a concern on the dusty trails. Water would be scarce after leaving the Pecos and Vin only knew of a few springs along the Comanche Trace. One was at Saint Gall, Comanche Springs, too close to Fort Stockton for comfort.

Mapping the trail out in his head, Vin figured to ride through the Guadalupes on the Butterfield Overland route, finding shelter and using the springs at the abandoned station houses and then following the Delaware, picking up the Goodnight-Love trail and continuing to follow the grasses along the Pecos, until reaching the Comanche trace that headed straight to Mexico. He could ford the Pecos at Horsehead Crossings, depending on which way the trail led him.

Vin knew it would be a good 250 miles or more just reaching Fort Stockton. A man with a purpose could travel a good 30 miles a day with a strong horse and enough food and water. Mindfulness of the water supply would be necessary, after leaving the Pecos and traveling would be slower in the heat of the day. He'd reach the Glass Mountains in two weeks time.

Vin looked up at the stars and noted the Big Dipper was now level and directly south of the North Star. "Four o'clock." Vin's voice cut through the night's stillness and he regretted the intrusion, sensing a change in the balance of things.

A shadow caught his eye, as he turned towards the livery and his hand reached down to his sawed-off Winchester at his right side. Vin strained to see if it was friend or foe, and then, he heard the sound of a familiar booted gait and rhythmical jangling of spurs. Damn! Larabee. Vin sighed and walked towards the ominous black shadow.

Chris saw Vin coming towards him, and he tried his damnedest to control the anger that was rising up in him. He was relieved that Vin had not left on his own to help Black Bear, but he could sense that Vin was going to fight them, tooth and nail, about journeying with him. Chris was tired and didn't want to butt heads with the mule-headed tracker. He had hardly slept, being tied up with anger and worry, most of the night.

They stood face to face, like wary dogs, cautious waiting to see who would strike first or who would reconcile. Vin stood down, not wanting to leave with harsh words between them. "Chris, a mite early ain't it?"

Chris' eyes sparked with a buried rage, biting back the words that would only heighten the already strained situation. "Was waitin' on ya." Chris looked hard into Tanner's eyes. "You said you'd be back 'n I've never known ya t'go against your word."

Vin's shoulders dropped, dejected at Chris' biting statement. Chris knew where to strike the tracker and he struck hard, needing Vin to know how furious and disappointed he was that Vin intended to carry out things on his own.

"Chris." Vin raised his eyes up and Chris winced, seeing the hurt and distress in them. "I'm sorry, but it's somethin' that's got t' be done, alone."

"No it don't, Vin," Chris stated, not being swayed by anything the tracker had to say.

"Don't want none of ya gittin' caught in the crossfire." Vin would not back down. This scrape was too dangerous and he could not shoulder the knowing that he brought good men into a no-win situation.

"Our decision, Vin." Chris would not yield and waited for the sharpshooter's response.

Vin was bone-weary tired and Chris was pushing him down, hard and fast. He had fought many men in his time, but Chris was one that he could not seem to beat, not having the heart to hurt him. Vin rubbed his hand over his closed eyes, tightening his fingers against his temples for a moment, trying to relieve the tension building up inside of him.

"Chris, I cain't ask ya t'do this." Vin knew he would not be able to stop Larabee, unless he cold-cocked him good and lit out of there right quick.

"You don't hafta ask, Vin." Chris paused and tried to say things right. "But, we hafta help, no two ways around it." Chris' intense green eyes bore into Vin's. " I need t' help ya, Vin.'

Vin saw the truth in the gunslinger's eyes, though his words were simple, professed much to the tracker. Vin could not refuse knowing it was Chris' way of showing the deep regard he had for him.

"Alright, then." Vin held out his hand to Chris and they clasped arms together, anger long since past.

Vin and Chris headed for the livery, each ruminating on the journey that lay ahead of them.

"Vin, why do you think he left?" Chris felt foolish knowing the obvious answer. What man would want to be captured and confined? Especially, men that lived a freedom that Vin understood and he could only imagine. "Do ya think Black Bear is still fightin' against the army, even though the Kwahadi surrendered?"

Vin stopped walking and raised his eyes up to the stars, thinking of days long since past and he thought of the man he knew then. The People had chosen Black Bear, Guasape, to be their *peace chief* or headman of the band and he offered insightful counsel. He was kindhearted and caring. His wisdom was respected and the council always heeded his word. He was compassionate and honorable and he had loved Vin. This Vin knew for a fact and he carried that love in his heart, even to this day.

Vin had pondered on the reasons and there had only been one answer. One painful answer that tore through Vin and drove him to help his father, no matter what the cost to himself. It would be more troublesome, now that the boys were caught up in the tumult. He would have to work around that somehow, making sure no one got hurt.

Chris was quiet, waiting for Vin to reply, knowing he was studying on his thoughts and knowing that Vin had probably queried this a hundred times, beforehand. Vin looked solemnly at Chris and finally spoke. "B'n thinkin' on that some 'n one thing I know fer certain is Black Bear's a man of peace. C'n only mean one thing." Vin paused, not wanting to own up to the truth of things, out loud.

Chris watched Vin seeing his reluctance to continue speaking, but he had to ask. He had to know what they were up against. He would not allow the men to do battle with the army. The war had been lost years ago by the Indian and he would not lose his men to a futile cause. He would not lose Vin Tanner, no matter what the price. Each man was of the same mind, but their focus was on different intent. Vin's, to protect Black Bear and the men. Larabee's, to protect Vin.

"What does it mean, Vin?" Chris needed to know and he would not back down until he understood the reasons. Chris read the despair in Vin's eyes the moment Vin looked at him. "What is it, Vin?" Chris persisted. "What's goin' on?"

Vin cleared his throat before speaking, not wanting to be betrayed by the emotions playing inside of him. "He's gone t'die, Chris."

Vin turned away remembering a time that was without burden, without sorrow. It was a time before the children cried and the old men mourned. A time before the buffalo was silenced. It was a time that now, was a long time gone.

"Not yer fault, Chris." Vin turned away and headed to the livery, needing to help his father finish his journey.

As Vin entered the livery, he was startled to see the men at the ready, waiting to go with him. It brought him comfort and a slow lopsided grin spread over his features as he leaned to the side in an offhand way, hooking his fingers in his belt. "You boys goin' somewhere I don't know 'bout?"

J.D. looked at Vin incredulously and blurted out, before he realized Vin was joking, "We're goin' with you, Vin. You know that, don'tcha?"

The men all laughed at his words and Josiah turned to J.D. with a grin. "He knows, Son."

J.D. shrank down into his saddle, trying to hide from the laughing. Vin stood in front of J.D. and smiled. "It's all right, J.D. Just found out m'self. Some ornery cowboy won't take no for an answer and he's got h'mself some right stubborn friends, too."

Chris laughed at that and waited for Vin to mount Peso as the other men shook hands before their departure. Chris looked at Buck and Ezra as he spoke, "Take care of the town and watch your backs. We should return in four t'five weeks."

Buck shook Chris' hand and gave a devilish smile. "What cha meant t'say Chris, is fer Ezra and me t'take care of a certain lovely newspaper lady fer ya, until y'git back. Ain't that right?" Buck laughed loudly at his teasing.

"Go t'hell, Buck." Chris reined his black out of the livery, a smile playing across his face as Buck's laughter chased after him down the dusty road of the town. The men followed behind Chris, bolstered by the high-spirited banter. The ordeals to befall them, set aside for the present. Vin kneed Peso and caught up with Chris, giving him a grin and a wink. Chris returned the grin. "Let's get it done."

They rode off in a cloudburst of dust and hoofbeats rumbling, awakening the town to a new day.

Vin stood tall in the stirrups bringing his spyglass to his eyes, scrutinizing the open plains before him. It had been a quiet trail so far, but Vin felt his hackles rising. Open spaces made for easy prey, which he chose not to be while traveling in Texas.

His sharp eyes caught a figure traveling toward them in a gallop, riding hard. The slender mustang was an Indian pony, a red-ear Medicine Hat that was believed to have strong powers, protecting the warrior in battle. Vin knew it was Comanche bred and brought the spyglass to his eye, again.

The long raven hair soared behind the warrior, as he advanced in a run towards the men, hidden behind a rise. His pony showed weariness as he sustained his punishing pace. Vin scanned the distant plains in search of the warrior's pursuers. He saw nothing, but the vast land of the staked plains. The Spanish called the high plains, Llano Estacado that meant barrier rising like a fortress.

The Staked Plains ran south of the Canadian River in the Texas Panhandle, north and east to the Texas Cap Rock, west into New Mexico and south to the Pecos River. Beholding the Plains for the first time, thunderstruck most with its' expansive, crystalline blue sky and boundless grasses rippling in the wind and an occasional view of rolling hills in the distance.

Vin rested himself down into the saddle and urged Peso slowly forward down the enfolding slope of the grassy plains. He motioned to the other men to follow at a distance as he trotted forward towards the warrior. Vin noted that he carried no gun, only a quiver containing bow and arrows; guns had been taken away from the Comanche when they had surrendered to the army. Using the weapons of the People became a necessity for the renegades, until they could raid or trade for guns.

The Comanche warrior slowed the pinto to a trot when he saw the buckskin clad man approaching. Vin slowed, bringing Peso to a stop. He held his right hand up making a fist, bringing index and middle finger together pointing upward indicating *friend*. The warrior did not speak, watching Vin with eyes squinted tight, showing mistrust and agitation.

Vin felt the presence of the other men coming up behind him. He raised his right arm up, making a fist. The men stopped abruptly, knowing this to be Vin's sign to halt. Vin did not take his eyes from the warrior, and continued signing. It did not appear that the Comanche would speak and was keeping a wary distance from Vin.

Vin brought his left thumb towards his chest signing for* I* and then cupped his right hand making an open circle with thumb and index finger, he moved his hand towards his mouth in a drinking motion to show *want*and again brought his right hand fisted up to his mouth, with index finger and thumb again in a circle, snapped out his index finger showing the sign for *talk*.

The warrior raised his fisted right hand with index finger, pointed upward. He then dropped his hand down, wrapping his pointed finger over his thumb signing *yes*.

Vin made the sign, once more for *friend* and then extended his left hand and rubbed the fingers of his right hand over the top of his left a few times. He brought his fisted right hand to his right side and extended out his index finger, making a motion of a snake.

J.D.'s horse danced excitedly under him sensing J.D.'s eagerness and surging curiosity. Josiah, to the right of J.D., passively sat watching the men sign the language of the plains. The Shoshone dialect was used often by the plains Indians when trading, but the universal language from the Canadian Rockies to the Rio Grande was signing.

Josiah knew that Vin spoke the Comanche dialect and was intrigued that they did not speak, but communicated with sign. Josiah's thoughts were interrupted by J.D.'s intense, but hushed voice. "What are they sayin', Josiah?" J.D. waited a moment for a reply not taking his eyes off of Vin's hands. He was repeatedly astounded by Vin's skills and knowledge.

Josiah spoke in his considered, soothing manner, "Well, J.D. it has been sometime since I used sign, but if I recall correctly, Vin just told the warrior he was a friend to the Comanche and that he wanted to talk."

"What did the Indian say t' Vin, Josiah?" J.D. stared intently at the Comanche warrior, noting the buckskin breechclout and deerskin moccasins that ran from foot to hip painted blue and ornamented with colorful beading, some of silver.

"Well, J.D., the *warrior* said yes that he would have a dialogue with Brother Vin. Josiah knew that the warrior was in a hopeless circumstance, a man lost, no longer having a place on the plains. He eyed the widespread land and grieved for the passing of things. Josiah turned his attention away from J.D. and watched Vin sign and at intervals use the Comanche tongue.

"AhpiwekIkitu?i nii. Guasape." Vin made the sign for father by bringing his right hand up and touching his right chest three times, and then pointing his right index finger up and forward towards the warrior. Vin knew his language was rough. It had been many years since he spoke the tongue. Hell, his English wasn't any better. * I'm coming to look for father. Black Bear.*

The Comanche warrior brought his pony nose to nose with Peso and stared intently at Vin. Chris stiffened and sat upright, alerted and displeased at the hawkish motion. Vin sensing Chris' rancor gave him a reassuring glance and quickly turned his intent to the Comanche. Chris stood down waiting and watching, distrustfully.

"Piaet nii yaakwatu?i." *I'm taking a rifle.* The warrior thrust his hand out towards Vin's saddle scabbard that held his Winchester carbine. Vin reined Peso away from the warrior and spoke with ironclad determination. "Tocuse." Vin extended his right hand palm down and turned it quickly palm up *No*. "Tocuse piaet." Vin watched the warrior closely after speaking. *No rifle.*

The warrior persisted taunting Vin. "Tebujua`e nii yaakwatu?i." *I'm taking a spyglass.* He reached for Vin's spyglass. Vin again repeated "Tocuse tebujua`e. Tocuse." Vin was starting to get tired of this game. He needed answers and the warrior was being willful, wanting *gifts* for his telling. *No spyglass. No.*

Vin brought his hand to his mouth and flicked out his index finger *Talk* and spoke, "Tecuaro." The Comanche looked at Vin knowing that it was done. He would need to leave soon. The soldiers would be coming to return them back to the reservation. He would not go with the soldiers, peacefully. He would die on the plains a brave warrior with honor.

"SitikwI hunuvehtu mi?an." The warrior pointed southeast in the direction of the Pecos. *They went to the creek* The warrior spoke again. "Tovo?ihupiti." *They crossed to the other side*

Vin smiled, relieved that he had his answer. He extended both hands out and pushed down signing *thank you*. The warrior nodded and turned his pony north heading for the Colorado River and most likely his death. The men were silent as they watched the warrior vanish into the flowing grasses of the plains.

Vin was the first to speak, as he reined Peso back towards the Pecos. "We'll ride 'long the river 'til we hit the trace." Vin looked across the plains knowing Black Bear was close at hand. "Be pickin' up their trail soon."

The Comanche trace was well traveled through the years by the Lords of the Plains on their pursuit of raiding, trading and warring against the Mexicans and Apaches. Fort Stockton was positioned on the trace which worried Vin. Black Bear and the other renegades would have to use caution with the soldiers so close at hand.

They were traveling towards the Del Norte and Santiago Mountains blindly, not willing to turn back to the reservation. There were many perils facing the*renegades* namely the Calvary, Lipan and Kickapoo Apaches and little food or water. Though the Apaches were few and broken, their threat was still strong.

Vin and the men passed Fort Stockton, unobserved and it appeared the warriors had also been fortuitous. Vin knew they were a stone's throw from meeting up with the Comanches and that Quanah and the other scouts were fast on their trail. Vin read the signs and noted the Comanches' ponies were now walking slowly, their front and rear hooves marking only a two to three foot distance.

The Comanches' ponies were showing signs of weariness and so were Vin and the boys. Water was scarce and the men drank sparingly. Twenty-five miles of riding had left the Pecos far behind them. Comanche Springs was located in the town of Saint Gall and was in close proximity of Fort Stockton. They would have to bypass that water and head to the Glass Mountains, which was the source of the spring.

It was early morning and the searing sun was unrelenting. Vin had removed his buckskin coat hours ago. He wore his hat pulled down low protecting his eyes from the intense light as he rode ahead of the men scouting for signs of renegade Apaches and soldiers that might thwart their journey. Peso's endurance was still strong and he climbed the rolling hill easily.

Vin reined Peso in and dismounted, leaving the gelding to graze on gamma grasses as he walked and then crouched down low, surveying the distant plains. He hastily placed his spyglass to his eye and viewed to the east and west and then directly south. As he lowered the glass, his bare eyes caught movement and he saw riders coming in from the west heading south towards Mexico. Vin rubbed dirt on the metal edge of the glass and put it to his eye. "Damn." He anxiously watched the riders push on at breakneck speed. There were five Apache warriors, Lipans and Kickapoos on the run, fully armed and none too friendly.

Though Mackenzie and his buffalo soldiers defeated the Lipans, Kickapoos and a scattering of Mescaleros in surprise raids, there still remained Apaches in the mountains of southwest Texas and Mexico. The Chiricahaus, Warm Springs and some Mescalero Apaches had taken refuge in the mountains of Chihuahau and Sonora closer to the New Mexico and Arizona borders. They chose to fight the long-knives the way Cochise and Magnas Coloradas had fought, refusing to give up their freedom. They now were lead by new Chiefs, Chato and Nachez, who was a son of Cochise. The Apaches were still a deadly threat.

Vin stayed crouched and headed back to Peso. Once he was below the rise, Vin stood and hurriedly mounted, heading for the boys. They would have to put spur to hide to stop the Apaches from attacking Black Bear and his small group of renegades.

Chris saw Vin heading towards them at a gallop and knew something was wrong. He spurred the black forward at a trot and the other boys followed sensing trouble. Vin stopped Peso alongside Chris and as he looked at the weary men, guilt ran through him. He should never have allowed them to come along, this was his fight and his fight alone.

Chris' voice broke through his pondering. "What's goin' on, Vin?" Chris asked pointedly, these men were his responsibility and he wanted to be prepared for all dangers that they might encounter.

"Spotted five Apaches headed south. More'n likely be on top of Black Bear in twenty minutes or so." Vin looked at Chris and around at the men. "We got t'make tracks." Vin watched each man nod their heads with agreement and turned Peso towards the trace at a run. The men followed close behind him.

They kept up a brisk run for over twenty minutes and Vin slowed them down as he pulled out his spyglass, standing up in the stirrups, holding his balance with his knees. Before raising the glass, Vin's keen eyes observed plumes of dust clouds rising.

Bringing the glass to his eye, Vin saw the Lipans and Kickapoos fast approaching the Comanches who were now punishing their tired ponies, pushing them into a rapid gallop. He turned to Chris and yelled over his shoulder. "Next rise we'll stop. I got t'git the lay of the ground t'see what's ahead."

Vin pointed in the direction of a distant rolling hill. They rode through tall grasses now, no longer on the Staked Plains. Desert shrubs and scrubby live oaks were scattered over the land.

Vin dismounted Peso and tethered him to a scrubby oak, grabbing his .50 caliber Sharps from the sheath over Peso's flank. He pulled off his saddle bag and ran up the hill at full speed. He knew he had little time to waste.

Vin studied the lie of the ground and dropped to his knees, moving closer to the rise. Placing the saddlebags on the ground, Vin pulled out several cartridges that he had made before the trip. He covered his saddlebags with his coat and placed the rifle on top of it. Vin removed the ramrod from the rifle barrel setting it down near the ammunition and took out a match smoking the front blade of the rifle, killing the glare.

Vin laid flat on the ground holding the big rifle against him and looked through the sights finding his target. He squeezed the trigger and watched as his shot met it's victim. The Apache reeled forward and fell hard from the pony. The four other Apaches pulled up firmly on their reins, looking behind them for their attacker.

Before they had a chance to scatter, Vin threw open the breech and removed the spent case and loaded another cartridge. Searching with the rifle's sight, he aimed with precision and took down another Apache. The Apaches' ponies reared up their front hooves wildly, sensing the fright of their riders. Vin, again with the skill of his buffalo hunting days, reloaded and took aim. This time sending his shot out as a warning to move on, no longer finding it necessary to kill. The Lipans and Kickapoos gathered their dead and let out a cry of respect to a worthy, but feral hunter, galloping away from the Comanches' trail.

Vin placed his head down on the Sharps which was now dirty and hot, remorse filling him. He did not want to kill and never had a nature for killing, man or beast. Every kill aggrieved him to the core. Josiah had told Vin that God had blessed him with the aptitude, yet tempered it with prudence and conscience. Unraveling the words, Vin became humbled by Josiah's remarks. Likable thoughts, but to Vin they were all dead just the same.

The men had gathered around Vin during the height of the hunt, watching in amazement at his ability to shoot dead on, at such a great distance. They were quiet as they saw Vin place his head down in grief. Chris waited by Vin's side, giving the sharpshooter time to get himself collected. He bent down and started picking up the spent cases. Vin brought his head up and watched Chris picking up his supplies.

"I c'n do that, Chris." Vin set the Sharps aside and took his coat off the saddle bags, placing the cartridges inside the bag. He took a cloth from the bag and wiped down the buffalo rifle. He hoped to have an opportunity later to give it a proper cleaning. Vin stood taking the ramrod and Sharps in his hands. Chris gathered up the saddlebags and faced Vin, wanting to say something that would be comforting, but could not find the words.

Vin spoke first startling Chris, "I know ya don't abide by that kind of killin'."

Chris stopped dead turning to face Vin. "It needed to be done. If your lookin' for my approval, you got it." Chris waited for Vin to look at him. "You don't kill freely, Vin. I know that, you know that. I see what it does t'ya." Chris paused. "Hell, what killin' does t'us all."

Vin nodded finding comfort in those words. He raised his head and encountered the concerned looks of his friends. He smiled at them and nodded with assurance that he was just fine. The men watched in silence as Vin walked down the hill, carrying his Sharps over his shoulder.

They camped that night near a grouping of scrubby oaks and a drying creek bed with scant traces of water. Vin had hunted down a male and female sage hen for their meal. The male was seven pounds of good meat and the female, a few pounds less. He did not pursue the jackrabbits, saving them for when the game was scarce. Jackrabbit did not offer much meat and was often tough. Vin regretted not having his Sharps with him, spotting pronghorns several hundred yards away. Pronghorns were a challenging hunt being able to see and scent from great distances. Long range hunt was the best way to stalk and kill the elusive and swift Pronghorn.

The men were sated and settled back for a needed respite from the heat and riding of the day. Vin settled back with them enjoying the camaraderie for the moment, but knew he would soon be on watch. Black Bear could only have gotten ten miles ahead of them at the most, and the Comanches needed to rest their paints. The Indian ponies were almost played out from the unmerciful pace, and a man could not long survive on foot in a harsh land that touched on the edges of the Chihuahuan Desert.

J.D. appeared to be sleeping, but surprised the men when he raised his head up and gave a full smile to them. Josiah grinned back at J.D., continually fascinated by the untainted nature of the youth. Josiah was in eternal pursuit of capturing that purity, searching for it in God and religious disciplines. It seemed to always elude him and he laughed in mockery of himself as he stared into the face of it.

"You look like y'have somethin' on yer mind, J.D." Josiah rested his body down, getting himself comfortable in anticipation of a myriad of questions, that Josiah knew, he more than likely would be answering alone, being aware of the reticent nature of Vin and sometimes Chris. Nathan, a man of patience and a good friend to Josiah for many years, had always shown compassion and a desire to help people. Josiah looked at Nathan with a grin and an unvoiced call for help, if the need arose. Nathan acknowledged Josiah's plight with a returned full white-toothed grin and an emphatic nod of support.

"Well, I've b'n thinkin' about Vin and his days huntin' buffalo and the Indians and all." J.D. paused not wanting to offend Vin or make him uncomfortable. J.D., also, was apprehensive, not being sure how Vin would take to him poking into his personal concerns.

Vin sat upright and turned towards J.D. feeling a mite prickly inside himself, forcing it down, not wanting to show temper at the kid. "Ask me plain, J.D., I'm settin' right here."

Vin's words ruffled J.D., and he wanted to lay back down and forget he mentioned anything, but it was too late now, with all the men watching him and Vin. Nathan, Josiah, and Chris sat quiet. They knew J.D. pretty much got away with more than any of them, when it came to prying into Vin's life. Vin did not fault J.D. for his curiosity and overlooked most of J.D.'s blundering.

"Vin, I don't mean t'be meddlin' int' your affairs, but I was just curious about your time huntin' buffalo." J.D. paused and looked into the fire, searching for the words that wouldn't sound like an accusation or cause Vin distress. "What I b'n hearing, it just seems to me a lot of the Indians problems were because the buffalo was being killed off by the buffalo hunters. You bein' raised by the Comanches and all, it just doesn't make sense t'me."

J.D. cringed at his words. Here he was accusing Vin of being a part of killing the buffalo, that destroyed the Indians, destroyed his own family. J.D. swallowed hard, knowing men had been shot down dead for speaking less to other men. Vin looked down at his hands as if they were the cause of all the evils that had been inflicted on the People, and slowly raised his head, speaking soft and plain to J.D. about the truth of the buffalo.

"I was a hunter, but not like the ones that came later. My friend and I hunted the herds closest t'the People. When we kilt the buffalo, the women of the bands would take what we didn't need. Not the kinda man that needs much, just 'nough for bullets and such. Most times, I gave more away than I kept in thanks t'the People for their hospitality, lettin' us stay in their lodges. Knowing that gives me a peace, but not stoppin' the buffalo hide hunters from the slaughter, that's somethin' I ain't proud of."

Nathan looked at Vin with a need to absolve Vin from his guilt. "You're jes' a man,Vin. One man cain't solve everythin'. Sometimes things cain't be stopped by ourselves alone. It took a long time fer slavery t'end 'n I still don't know if'n it will ever be done with in people's minds. I couldn't stop that alone and y'couldn't stopped what happened t' the buffalo."

Josiah clamped his massive hand on Nathan's shoulder offering him comfort knowing the painful memories of slavery would always be a raw wound hidden away, but never healed.

Josiah wanted to offer wisdom and resolution to Vin and Nathan knowing they were two men who would die fighting to slay the demons of the world. Not unlike the other men and not unlike himself, but his demons were not as discernible or momentous as slavery or genocide. Josiah was ashamed for his weaknesses and self-indulgences looking at these men of strength and integrity.

"Brother Nathan is right, Vin." Josiah's voice carried itself over to Vin, forcing him to lift his eyes up to the men. "You have nothin' to be ashamed of and you gave sustenance t' the People when they were in need. You had no hand in the slaughtering of buffalo or the killing of a People. I know that don't change the way things are, but it helps a man live out his life with some peace of mind. We're all searching for that elusive peace one way or another, every damnable day."

Chris stood up and threw his coffee into the flames of the fire causing it to hiss and dance until it rekindled itself strong again. Chris knew peace would be a long time coming for him, but like a light of sun coming through clouds, Chris realized it was the same for them all. He felt less alone at the thought and reached within himself, uncovering a determination to survive that had been a long time lost.

Vin stood and walked over to Chris. "I'll be takin' first watch. You git some shut-eye." Chris looked at Vin a long while, not saying anything. Vin nodded seeing friendship in those eyes, a friendship as true and clear as the sky of the plains. Vin turned away feeling a momentary flicker of peace kindle up in him. He tipped his hat to the men and walked out alone into the covering of night.

The stars reflected the time of night that Vin interpreted as easily as people did their timepieces. It was 2:00 a.m. and Vin had told Chris that he would wake him for the next watch. He knew the men were weary and Vin chose to let them rest. The horses seemed a mite jittery and Vin stood, eyes searching the darkness. He felt something out there, but the night divulged no enemy.

Vin heard the quietly stealth sounds of approaching steps and before he could react, a force drove him down to the ground, knocking him back, swift and hard, hitting the unyielding earth with such impact, the breath left him. As he felt his head meeting earth, his vision caught sight of breechclout, beading and raven hair. Comanche. Vin's mind reeled and he fought with a fierceness, trying to subdue the attacker who had the advantage of at least twenty pounds.

Vin felt as though he knew this warrior and was taken by the familiarity of him during their struggle. The flesh, the sinew and the scent was like that of remembering a brother from long past. The need to survive did not let his pondering betray him and he returned a blow to the face of the warrior and felt the blood flow on him as it spurted from the nose and mouth of his deadly foe.

The Comanche would not be taken down, and returned a blow to Vin's side, dropping him to the ground with a grunt of pain. The warrior did not allow the opportunity to pass as his prey lay stilled on the earth and he kicked Vin, again and again, in the ribs and lower back with intensity. Vin was grateful it was not a booted foot that drove into his flesh, but that of moccasin.

Vin collected himself with a determination, knowing that he had to take down this man or Chris and the boys would be in harm's way. The struggle between the men was soundless and lethal, only the skittish snorts of the agitated horses broke into the night's silence. It would be a battle to the death, if the warrior had his way.

Vin lay trapped on the ground, pinned down by the weight of the Comanche and he felt his knife being pulled from the sheath on his side. He bucked up his back, planting his feet firmly and used all his power to unseat the burden on his chest. The effort threw the warrior off balance to the ground and Vin climbed on top of him, assailing his foe with deadly blows.

He saw the flash of his hunting knife's blade and felt it plunge into his thigh and he let out a guttural cry of agony and anger. The warrior grasped firmly to the knife hilt bringing the blade up slicing the thigh open and then twisting it as he pulled it from Vin's leg creating a long, deep and gaping wound.

Vin's strength was ebbing, but he would not surrender because the men needed him. He fought hard with the knowing that they might die if he did not defeat this adversary. Vin wrestled the knife away from the warrior, but was taken off-balance from the intensity of the motion. The Comanche, taking advantage of the moment, sent a blow to Vin's head, dropping Vin to his knees.

Vin struggled to keep the blackness from overtaking him and let out an enraged yell in Comanche, "Tocuse." He stood reeling as the warrior lunged into his midsection, his head meeting earth with a force that left him unaware, until he heard the reverberation of a gunshot that played over and over in his head, and he struggled to make sense of the goings-on.

Vin's eyes skirted around the edges of a face that was seemingly familiar, but could not place a name to it. He had a murky recollection of the voice calling out to him, but the blackness beckoning had a more powerful grasp, and he surrendered to it.

Vin cursed to himself feeling the poking and prodding and weakly slapped at the hands that deftly and firmly worked their way over his ribs and his lower back. He heard voices drifting above him, but still he could not recognize them. Not an enemy. Taking care of him. He laid hold of those thoughts and calmed, feeling safe.

"Comanche got him good in his thigh. Almost hit the bone. Looks like he wrenched the knife back and forth before he pulled it out. It's a mess. I gotta stitch it up and hope it heals. Could be some muscle damage." Nathan was grateful that Vin was still unaware, and smiled down at him, when he saw blue eyes looking up, blurry and confused. "Easy, Vin. We gotcha now. We gonna take care of everythin' that's ailin' ya. Y'lay still now. Y'hear?"

Vin heard the sound of a voice, but was not sure of what was being said. His head was buzzing and he closed his eyes willing it away. "That's right, y' rest now. Chris is here and we're gonna take care of ya."

"What do ya need, Nathan?" Chris raised his hand calling over Josiah and J.D. who were standing guard, not sure if more Comanches were lurking in the darkness around them.

"I need my saddlebag with the laudanum, bandages, carbolic 'n git me some horse hair. That needs to be boiled real good. There's a needle, boil that too."

Josiah ran for the saddlebags and J.D. raced to the horses getting the necessary horse hair. The Comanche lay dead on the ground, nearby and J.D. shuddered at death being so close to hand, finished up his task quickly, escaping from it.

Nathan rested a hand on Vin's forehead as Chris looked on intently. Nathan knew the gunslinger was worried and he gently reassured him with words that Nathan felt he had spoken too many times, grateful for that, but angry that they needed to be uttered at all. "He'll be fine, Chris." Chris looked at Nathan a good long time letting the words sink in and then he nodded, trusting it to be so. Josiah and J.D. let out their breath loudly, filled with a sense of relief.

" Let me try to git some laudanum int' him." Nathan brought the bottle to Vin's lips, but Vin shook his head, vigorously. "Tocuse!"

"It's Nathan, Vin. I ain't gonna give y'anythin' that would hurt y' now." Vin still wouldn't take the laudanum and Nathan resigned himself to it, turning to Chris and Josiah. "I'm gonna stitch this up now. Chris, Josiah hold him down, but gently. Y'know how he gits. Cain't have him thrashin' 'round on me."

Nathan went to work, taking the needle and horsehair from Josiah and began sewing small neat stitches through flesh like cloth, aligning the skin in it's proper position as he sewed.

Vin's eyes flew open and he raised up his back, but was held down with a force that he couldn't overpower. Voices calling to him. Voices he knew and then he focused on a face. "Chris?" Vin rasped out a name, laying hold of the memory of it. "Yeah, Vin. It's me. Hold still, now. Nathan's trying to sew y'back up. You got cut up good."

Vin swallowed, thirst grabbing at his throat making it difficult for him to talk. "Ya git him?"

Chris looked down at Vin with an embittered smile on his face. "Yeah, I got him."

Vin stared at Chris with emotionless eyes. "Good." He relaxed into the darkness, unburdened with the knowing that the men were safe.

Vin was cold and he pained down to his bones. Cold then hot, shivery aches flowing through him. His left leg pulsated with agony, throbbing with the beating of his heart, unrelenting. A thirst choked him. Dry, hot, parched like desert dirt, and sun scorching his bones, bleaching white and cold, brittle, shivering and breaking. He hurt and he knew he couldn't, too much needed to be finished.

Vin wanted water, like nothing else. He'd kill for water. Bone-dry! Get up! Find it! He pushed himself to sit up, but something held him down. Dammit! Let me the hell alone! He struggled again. A growl expulsed from him filled with the rage of a trapped animal. A sound, softly murmuring in his ear. What is that? Words he couldn't identify. "Ahpi?" Vin called out in a voice to dry to be heard or make sense of. "Ahpi?" *Father?*

"What's he saying, Josiah?" J.D. held Vin down firmly, making sure he didn't move his wounded leg. It was a struggle and Josiah helped J.D., seeing he was in need of assistance.

"I think it's in the Comanche dialect. I'm not sure, J.D." Josiah looked down at Vin wanting to ease his distress.

Vin's eyes gazed up at Josiah, distant and fevered. "Paa!" Vin struggled again to get up, but the strength of Josiah pinned him down. "Paa!" Vin was angry and needed water, desperately.

"He wants somethin', J.D. and we better find out what it is 'fore he hurts himself."

Josiah knew Nathan and Chris had just settled down to get some rest. They had been up all night with the tracker. Chris did not want to leave Vin's side, but Nathan reassured him that Vin was going to be fine. Josiah was worried, and he didn't like the fever that gripped the sharpshooter.

"J.D. git the tea that Nathan has ready on the fire." J.D. looked at Josiah before he released hold of Vin, making sure that Josiah had hold of him. Vin was lean, but stronger than he appeared. A fact learned the hard way, by most of them. Josiah let out a soft 'humph' of a laugh, thinking of his own surprise when he and Vin, good-naturedly wrestled. The sinewy sharpshooter proved to be a quite a handful, and Josiah had to work damn hard to overcome him. Fondness for this man filled him, and he smiled at the sentiment.

J.D. scurried back with the tea as Josiah raised Vin's head putting the cup to his lips. Vin tried to reach for the cup, but his hands were pinned down. Damn! He would fight after he drank. Needed to drink. The tea was poured into his mouth and Vin almost gagged on it, but drank it down. Must be mud water from the creek. More, he needed more.

"Paa!" Vin shouted grabbing for the cup, forgetting his hands were trapped. He arched his back, again being stopped. "Now, now Son. We cain't have y'doin' that. You'll hurt yerself, Vin." Josiah held firmly to Vin. "J.D. git some water. He must be thirsty the way he drank down the tea."

"Alright, Josiah. I'll be right back." J.D. looked at Josiah again, before letting go. "You got him?"

"I'm fine, J.D. Just git it and maybe that'll settle him down." Josiah held firm as Vin continued to struggle, but getting weaker.

"Here, Josiah." J.D. returned with a canteen still full. Vin had made sure he had brought several on the journey, which served them well.

"Here ya go, Brother Vin." Josiah raised Vin's head up and slowly brought the canteen to his mouth. Blue eyes flew open at the taste and he smiled gratefully. "Paa!"

Josiah let out laugh and repeated Vin's words, "Paa! That's what you wanted huh, Vin?" Josiah looked down as Vin drank. "You wanted water."

Josiah winked at J.D. as J.D. nodded, glad the tracker was calm again. "Maybe, he'll rest easier now, you think so, Josiah?"

"I think so, J.D." Josiah clasped his hands together and said a silent prayer over the ailing sharpshooter.

He woke to voices understanding them this time. That gave him comfort to know and he felt stronger. He was no longer thirsty or hot. His bones no longer aching, but his leg still throbbed, unmercifully. Hurt like hell, but tolerable. Vin raised himself up higher, resting against the saddle and opened his eyes to see Larabee staring down at him.

"How ya feelin', Vin?" Chris' face still showed worry, although Vin looked a lot better than last night, his fever breaking this morning.

"You didn't get me up for the watch." Chris sat down beside Vin looking at him, accusingly.

"I was a mite busy at the time." Vin smirked at Chris trying to lighten up the situation.

" I guess you were." Chris grinned back at Vin and handed him a cup of coffee. Vin took it from Chris quickly before Nathan could stop him from drinking it. The strong brew made him feel almost himself again, as he drank it down, burning its' way inside of him. Chris laughed at the look of unbridled pleasure on the tracker's face. "I never met a man who loved his coffee more 'n you, Vin."

"Cain't think of nothin' better than a good cup of brew." Vin chuckled softly. "Well, mebbe I c'n!"

Chris threw his head back with a bawdy laugh and clasped his hand on Vin's shoulder, giving it an amiable squeeze. "I can think of a few things myself."

They sat quiet for a while enjoying the repose. The other men were taking care of the horses and tack. Josiah had buried the body of the Comanche during the night and had said a few words over him. Josiah knew the warrior's circumstances pushed him to fight out of desperation and not with malicious intent.

Vin looked over towards the men, his line of vision stopping on the burial mound. He rubbed his eyes, saddened by the killing of the warrior. "He came fer the horses. He musta b'n out scoutin' fer the other warriors."

"You think their horses are played out?" Chris stood up, walking to the fire, getting himself and Vin another cup of coffee.

"Close t'it, but they'll keep goin'. They ain't got a choice." Vin sighed and took the cup from Chris. "We gotta ride soon or their gonna be int' Mexico. I ain't in the mind fer Mexico."

"You got t' take it easy, Vin." Chris eyes bore into Vin as he spoke. "That leg was really torn int' bad. Nathan'll be cursin', if you break open them stitches."

Vin nodded. "I'll go easy, Chris, but we got t'go or there won't be no point in us comin' all this way, if Quanah and the army git t' 'em first."

"All right, Vin, but the minute I see you not lookin' good, we're stoppin'." Chris rose, throwing his coffee into the fire and turned to help Vin stand up as he went to get his gear together.

Vin set his left leg down gingerly and slowly put weight on it. The stabbing pain nearly knocked him off his feet. The pallor of his face and the sweat that saturated him made Chris stop his task and walk over to Vin, keeping an eye to him, making sure his footing would not fail him.

"I'm okay, I was just a mite wobbly at first," Vin lied, knowing that Chris knew it for that but, said it just the same.

"Alright, but I'm not catchin' ya when ya fall." Chris walked away, still keeping an attentive eye on Vin.

"Go t' hell." Vin limped over to his saddle and looked down at it, not being in the mind to bending down to get it. He looked up and saw Chris watching him. "Well Larabee, you gonna git it fer me or what?" Vin scowled at Chris, knowing he was enjoying the tracker's displeasure in needing to ask for help.

Vin kicked the dirt with the booted foot of his good leg, nearly falling over on top of the saddle. He regained his balance and looked at Chris who had rushed to his side when he saw him swaying forward. "You alright, Vin?" Chris held Vin by his arm, turning Vin towards him.

"I'm fine, Chris. Just moved a mite too quick. Lost my balance." Vin sighed, knowing his leg was going to slow him down. He had too much to do with too little time to do it in, and no time at all to coddle himself. "This leg is makin' me madder than hell."

"I know, Vin. Just take it slow. We're here t'help. We'll get t' Black Bear in time." Chris made sure Vin was steady before letting go of the sharpshooter, and he reached for Vin's bedroll and saddle.

Josiah and J.D. walked back to the fire getting themselves coffee, while Nathan headed directly towards Vin with eyes searching the tracker for tell-tale signs of ill health. Nathan reached his hand up to Vin's forehead and noted the sweat from pain and exertion.

"Ya shouldn't be ridin', but I know ya ain't got much choice. It's gonna pain y'somethin' fierce. I know that fer sure, Vin." Nathan watched Vin, leaning into his good leg and barely putting any weight on his left side. "Ya want some laudanum fer the pain?"

"Cain't, Nathan. I'll be fine." Vin wanted to sit down more than anything, but couldn't show weakness or they would never let him go on and that would put them too far behind Black Bear.

Chris gave J.D. Vin's saddle and J.D. quickly had Peso ready to go. The supplies were stowed away and the men mounted, all but, Vin and Chris. Vin looked up at Peso, knowing that he mounted from the left side, and knowing that his leg probably wouldn't support him as he put all his weight on it.

Vin lifted his left leg up biting down hard on his lip, trying to control the pain as he put his foot into the stirrup and forced himself to straighten his leg. His lip was bloodied from keeping himself from yelling out and just when he thought he wouldn't be able to do it, he felt firm hands pushing him up, helping him swing his right leg over Peso. Vin knew he was pale and he felt sweat dripping from him. He closed his eyes and gripped the pommel tight, trying to keep from falling off the gelding.

"Ready, Vin?" Chris was on the ground beside Vin, watching him closely. Nathan reined up next to Vin examining his leg, looking to see if it was bloodied from the effort.

Chris looked up at Nathan, waiting to see if Vin should be riding. "Everythin' alright, Nathan?" Chris glanced over to Vin who still kept his eyes closed, collecting himself against the pain.

"As good as it could be jes' gittin' over bein' fevered and climbin' on a horse and ridin' int' this heat." Nathan scowled, not liking this at all.

"Just keep them damn Texas screw worms away from me, and I'll be right as rain." Vin smiled wryly at the worried men.

"Dammit, Tanner! That's not one bit funny." Chris had seen the effects of screw worm on livestock during his time ranching. The flesh-eating larvae made his skin crawl just thinking about it.

Nathan shook his head at Vin, exasperatingly. "Don't worry Chris. The carbolic should keep the wound clean."

"You boys don't have a speck of humor." Vin laughed at the disgust showing on all their faces. "Better git mounted, Larabee or I'm leavin' ya b'hind."

Chris growled to himself and mounted the black. "Why do I put up with this ?" He spoke out loud to know one in particular, but it was the tracker who answered with a raspy laugh. " 'Cause yer just a soft touch."

"Who ya callin' soft?" Chris feigned anger, but was glad that Vin seemed more alert and spirited. Vin winked at Chris giving a lopsided grin and rode off in front.

The men looked at each other shrugging their shoulders with resignation, concern for the tracker discernible as they followed briskly behind him.

Quanah Parker had been scouting the Staked Plains for three weeks, looking for renegades that ran from Fort Sill. They were now on the run for over five weeks and Quanah had tracked them to the Pecos River. He had found a few scattered groups there and had successfully gotten the twenty-one runaways to surrender.

They were sent back to Fort Sill with a detachment of soldiers. Quanah told the renegades that Colonel Mackenzie would allow the them to stay at the reservation and would not be sent to Fort Leavenworth. The runaways were grateful and told Quanah that Black Bear and a few others of his Kwahadi band were headed towards Mexico.

Black Bear had always been kind to Quanah and he wished to bring the old warrior back to the reservation unharmed. He had learned from the foolish young Lieutenant that the tahbay-boh had been seeking out Black Bear and Walks in the Sun.

He thought of his friend from long ago, light-skinned with blue eyes and rode, fought and hunted like a Comanche. Quanah smiled at the memory of his boyhood companion, Tanner. He knew Tanner would be looking for Black Bear, fearing for his father's life.

Quanah reflected on a time after his mother had been taken away. It was difficult time for him and his brother and they were saddened to be without their mother. After the passing of their father Peta Nocona, a great war chief, Quanah and his brother, Pecos, were taken care of by his father's second wife. She died shortly after and Quanah and his brother were orphaned.

It was not easy finding food and shelter, but Black Bear took care of them. He gave them food, clothing and lodging during the time of the great cold and snows. Quanah would do what he could to protect Black Bear, this was rightfully owed to the old warrior for his compassion.

The foolish and inexperienced Lieutenant Cooper had been hand-picked by Colonel Mackenzie to go on this expedition, and it angered Quanah that this suapi-wahti, stupid, tahbay-boh was his trail chief. He would not allow this tuinehpua, young boy, to command him, Quanah, the great war chief of the Kwahadi.

Quanah urged his paint forward, galloping towards the Lieutenant, causing the young soldier to outwardly shudder at the sight. The war chief laughed aloud and let out an intimidating whoop, rearing up his pony as he turned towards the Comanche Trace in search of the remaining renegades.

"Vin, let's rest." Chris rode up beside Vin trying to encourage him to slow down. He could tell the tracker was weary. They had been riding for several hours now. Chris noted that there was a large amount of blood on Vin's pants' leg and he wanted Nathan to have a look at it and redress it.

"Where almost there, Chris. They're only a coupla miles ahead of us." Vin was desperate to go on and wanted to convince Chris, he was fine.

"You said yourself they're ridin' slow 'n they're goin' t' need t' rest their ponies." Chris would not be swayed. He was not going to let Vin kill himself, over a man he had not seen in years. Chris knew this meant a lot to the sharpshooter, but he would only allow this journey to continue, if Vin remained healthy and capable of traveling.

Chris noticed Vin flinching as he spurred Peso on in a trot. Damn that mule-headed tracker! Chris caught up with Vin and was prepared to grab Peso's bridle, if the tracker didn't stop on his own. He knew that would be playing with fire, but Vin needed rest and he needed it now!

Vin continued on, ignoring the gunslinger yammering beside him. If he acknowledged Chris and really listened to what he was saying, Vin knew he would be mighty angry at him and he wasn't in the mind to be angry. He couldn't spare the energy. He was staying in the saddle by pure determination, alone. Vin felt a chill come over him and knew that wasn't a good sign. He'd put on his coat, but Chris would questioned that for sure. Damn, gunslinger!

"Vin, listen t'me. *I* need t' stop." Chris tried a different approach and he hoped it would work.

Vin eyed Chris suspiciously, and reined in Peso, looking intently at the man before him. "I know what yer up t' Chris." Vin could not be that easily fooled. "We'll stop if'n y'need t'stop."

Chris let out a sigh, grateful that his maneuvering had worked without a fight. J.D., Nathan and Josiah reined up next to them. "What's goin' on, Chris?" J.D. asked watching both men.

"We're goin' t' rest a spell, J.D." Chris turned his attention to Nathan. "Maybe you should take a look at Vin's leg while ya got the chance."

"Alright, Chris." Nathan was relieved that he would have the opportunity to examine Vin. He could see that Vin was showing signs of fever and fatigue. "There's a wash over yonder. Them mesquites'll give us some relief from the sun."

Vin quietly went along with the men, trying to control his impatience. He was so close to the renegades. He feared that it would be too late to get Guasape, Black Bear, back to the land of grasses to spend his final days.

"Vin, come set down over here." Nathan called Vin over to sit against the trunk of the Mesquite. He had the carbolic and bandages out and a blanket spread on the ground for Vin to rest. "I need ya t'lower yer pants for me, Vin." Nathan smiled at the tracker's discomfiture.

"Aw hell, Nathan!" Vin still had not dismounted from Peso, not sure if he could get down without falling. The boys watched him closely, wondering when the sharpshooter would attempt to climb off the gelding.

Vin walked Peso over to the horses, trying to escape the prying eyes of the men. If he fell, he wanted to do it alone without them viewing his debility. Vin sucked in a deep breath and held it as he swung his right leg over Peso's flank. He nearly blacked out from the pain as his full weight rested on his wounded leg. His left boot became caught in the stirrup and Vin didn't have the strength to untangle it. He hung their for a moment holding tight to the saddle horn, trying to control his breathing and willing his foot to release itself.

He felt a strong hand on his back, while another took hold of his left foot and gently rested it down to the ground as the other arm continued to offer him support. Vin hung his head, grateful for the help, but embarrassed by the need of it. "Thanks, Chris."

"It's alright, pard." Chris let Vin hang on to his arm, until he could get his footing. "Can you make it t' Nathan?"

Vin nodded his head, yes, and hobbled over to Nathan as Chris walked beside him. The men watched intently, each one ready to come to his assistance, if he needed them. The leg pained him pretty bad. Not quite as tolerable as he thought it would be, but he had to get through it. He'd been hurt worse than this and managed to get done what he needed to. Why was this paining him so much that he couldn't even think straight? Now, Nathan wants him to strip. The day just kept getting worse!

"Come on now, Vin. I ain't goin' t'bite ya." Nathan walked over to Vin and helped him set himself down on the blanket. "Take down yer drawers and let me look at that leg. If yer feelin' uneasy put this blanket over y'self." Nathan threw a blanket at him and walked towards the other men giving Vin privacy.

Vin cursed out loudly, as he struggled with his pants, trying not to cause himself any more discomfort. When he finally got his pants off, he laid back closing his eyes, feeling the sweat soak into his clothing and drip into his eyes, stinging them. Chris and Nathan walked quietly over to Vin and watched him with worry. They could see he was hurting badly, but knew he would not give up, determined to help his father.

Nathan squatted down and gently touched Vin's shoulder, but saw Vin did not rouse to the touch. He placed his hand on Vin's forehead and shook his head. "Fevered. Not too bad, but if he pushes himself, it'll git worse."

Nathan looked down at the bloodied bandage pulling it off gingerly, trying not to cause the sharpshooter pain. Vin let out a moan as the bandage caught pulling against the wound. "Easy there, Vin. Almost done." Nathan murmured in a soothing voice.

Chris sat quietly at Vin's side, watching Nathan work as he cleaned and redressed the wound. Nathan had liberally applied the carbolic which raised Vin up off the blanket. Chris wrestled him back down with care and he gently brushed sweaty strands of hair from Vin's face.

"The wound is slightly inflamed, but nothin' t'worry about, right now. It's all that ridin' that's causin' him the problems. Cain't keep him down, but mebbe the fever might." Nathan touched Vin's face lightly, tapping his cheek. "Here, Vin, take some water."

Vin opened his eyes and raised his head. He couldn't understand why his limbs felt like lead and he could barely keep his eyes open. He drank the water greedily and let Nathan drop his head back down to the blanket.

"You rest awhile, Vin and then we'll get goin' when your ready." Chris squeezed Vin's shoulder and settled back against the mesquite while the tracker slept.

Vin needed to get up and get up now, but he couldn't seem to get his body to move. His mind struggled, but his body did not respond and he allowed himself to surrender to the stillness.

Vin's body twitched awake, causing him to startle and he raised himself up quickly, groaning in pain not quite fully alert and not in the mind to concealing it from the men. Chris roused, abruptly, from the movement and moaning beside him. He looked over at the tracker who was staring up at the sun intently, watching the shadows on the land. Chris knew he was reading the time and knew Vin was only of one mind, finding Black Bear.

"Here, Vin take some water." Chris handed Vin the canteen. "You've b'n out a couple of hours."

Vin drank down the water greedily, and wiped his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve, watching the land with eyes that caught movements and shadings, formations and rhythms that signed quietude or peril. Vin watched as Nathan walked towards him, resigned to the knowing that Nathan would be poking and prodding him before he was *allowed* to get back on the trail. He would tolerate this, if it meant getting on with things.

Nathan knelt down next to Vin who was struggling to sit up, but Nathan forced him back down with a firm hand. "Jes' lay back fer now, Vin. I need t' look at that leg, again." Nathan grinned down at the tracker. " 'Sides y'ain't got no pants on."

Vin wrinkled up his face with annoyance. He had forgotten that his pants were laying near by on the blanket. He must have nodded off quickly, not having the chance to get dress.

"How ya feelin', Vin?" Nathan studied the tracker closely. He still saw traces of fever in Vin's eyes along with pain from his wounded leg. "Ya seem to be runnin' a slight fever. Yer not givin' y'self the proper rest t' fight it."

"Cain't, Nathan." Vin looked at Chris and Nathan, unbending. There would be no hindering him from his aim. "I'll rest later."

Nathan chuffed loudly at Vin's words, troubled, knowing they had little choice but, to continue on with their intent. "Let me put some carbolic on that leg, check the stitchin' and see if the wound is healin'." Vin nodded 'yes' to Nathan and got himself comfortable, knowing that pulling the bandages off and then pouring the carbolic on the wound would be a grievous time for him. Vin laid back trying to control his breathing, fisting his hands tightly, waiting for the pain to commence.

"Jes' relax, Vin. I'll try not t' hurt ya too much." Nathan loathed seeing the men suffer and could not be consoled even with the knowing that his ministrations, although painful at times, spurred along the healing Vin sensed Nathan's discomfort and would not allow himself to show signs of suffering. Nathan was a kindly soul and Vin did not wish to cause him distress. "It ain't yer fault, Nathan. Yer only tryin' t'help me n' I 'preciate that." Vin closed his eyes and waited for the task to be done.

Nathan looked over at Chris, who had been silent as he watched Nathan pour the carbolic on the laceration. Chris had pressed a hand on Vin's shoulder gently, but firmly as the tracker involuntarily writhed in agony when the carbolic soaked into the wound. He listened to Vin's suppressed moans and Nathan's regretful apologies, feeling anger and the needing of this mess to be finished, as quickly as possible, without losing anyone, without losing Vin.

Nathan helped Vin get dressed as Chris studied the tracker's cloudy blue eyes that looked up at him, showing pain but, also a resolve that he would not yield. They looked at each other wordlessly for a long time and Chris nodded.

"Alright, Vin. We'll get goin'." Chris saw Vin relax with those words spoken, seeing a hint of smile touching his lips. Chris smiled back at Vin, despite his concerns and offered a hand up to the sharpshooter who held on tightly as he was raised from the ground with care.

"Whatcha' mean *gittin'* t' be a mite troublesome?" Chris laughed at the exasperated expression on the tracker's face. "You've always b'n a damn pain in the ass!"

"You goin' t'be able t' get that sorry hide of yours up in that saddle?" Chris didn't want to shame the self-reliant man, but he knew that Vin would never be able to mount without some support.

"Hell, no!" Vin stood in front of Peso unsettled by his weakness. He waited with disgust for Chris to lend a hand, boosting him up into the saddle. "That's the last time yer puttin' yer paws on my ass!"

Chris let out a laugh at the tracker's remark, watching him ride off, after giving Chris a touch to his hat brim.

The Glass Mountains overshadowed the men as they continued along the Comanche trace. Vin had scouted out a spring and the men had a chance to water the horses and refill their canteens. He knew they were close to Black Bear and saw signs of their night's encampment around the spring. The land rose steadily as they were getting closer to the mountains. There were many rocky slopes that could hide someone not wanting to be found. The junipers, oaks and mesquite scattered over the countryside would also allow concealment.

Vin knew he would have to approach Black Bear head on, riding directly into their camp. Any other way would cause bloodshed and Vin refused to see anyone he cared about hurt or killed. He studied the shallow, stony soil and saw signs of the ponies. They had picked up speed, now that their mustangs had been rested and watered. Their tracks showed, from front hooves to back, a 7 to 8 foot spread. They were now at a steady trot. Vin spurred Peso and headed towards an approaching slope, hoping to be able to catch sight of them through his glass.

He tethered Peso and climbed the stony slope, and rested down on his elbows and stomach, raising the spyglass to his eye. He scanned the outskirts directly south, knowing the only escape for the renegades would be Mexico and the scant safety of the mountains. Vin was afraid for Black Bear, thinking on the Lipans and Kickapoos and possibly a scattering of Mescalero, Apaches, hiding in the mountains of Chihuahua. They were in a damnable quandary. The devil was on their tail and a thousand demons lurked in those mountains. Vin knew he had to stop Black Bear, soon.

Something caught his eye and he strained to see a sign of it, before it floated away in the expanse of slopes and rising mountains. A shadow, more shadows and then the images becoming clearer. Indian ponies! There were four of them now, running to save their lives, but not Black Bear, he was running to his death, running so that he could die with dignity. The hope of dying on the Staked Plains lost, but the dying in freedom with the wind and the sky that hope was still alive in Black Bear's heart and Vin would give everything to make it so.

He moved the glass over the four Comanches searching, and his breath caught as he recognized his father. His heartbeat was strong in his ears as a sadness and excitement leaped through him. His hands shook and he wiped each one on his pants' legs. His wounded leg throbbed, but the pain of it could not penetrate through the emotions that pulsed through him. Vin returned to the trail and Peso, pondering his next direction. He needed to do this alone.

Vin had taught J.D. several trail signs using grass, rocks and twigs. He found two rocks, one large and one smaller, and placed the smaller one on top and centered. A simple sign that J.D. should read without trouble, and Josiah was, more than likely, schooled in sign himself, to know that the rocks meant to follow straight ahead. Hopefully, seeing the sign would quiet Larabee, and he would know Vin was all right.

Vin remounted Peso, his body shaking from the effort. He breathed in short, rapid pulls of air trying to control the pain that now coursed through him after his struggle of running up the rocky grade, placing the sign and mounting the gelding. The exertion of it all catching up with him, but Vin refused to submit to it and reined Peso forward as he gathered his strength and focused his mind on what he must do to safely enter the Comanche camp.

He would need a tosanadatzia, white flag, a tahbay-boh sign that the Comanches knew well. He thought of the extra bandages Nathan insisted he bring with him as he scouted ahead of the men. Chris did not want him to ride out alone without the boys, but Vin had argued that he would find Black Bear quicker, on his own.

He would just have to get himself into their encampment without getting an arrow or bullet between the eyes. The Comanches were more than likely wound up tight, looking for evil spirits at every turn. Bad medicine had troubled them for too long now, and their puha, power, had forsaken them. A tahbay-boh would not get a friendly welcome. Vin kneed Peso into a gallop and headed down the trace towards the camp.

Vin had been ahead of them for more than five hours now and Chris was worried that the tracker would try to go it alone. Chris *knew* Vin would, didn't doubt it for a minute. Fury flared within him, not having control over the circumstances. That tracker was always pushing him to anger, causing him unrest and anxiety pretty near every day. Didn't know when it started mattering to him about these men, but it did.

Vin felt like the closet thing to kin to him, now. The notion made him madder than hell. He didn't want it, didn't need it. He was just fine by himself, but he couldn't deny it or runaway from it no matter how hard he tried. Vin was out there alone and Chris was not there to watch his back.

J.D.'s ebullient voice bolted towards him, shattering his pondering with a jolt. Chris' hand reflexively reached for his gun and he quickly released it seeing J.D.'s startled eyes staring at him, fearful and distressed. "Sorry Chris, but I just wanted you t' know that Vin left sign for us."

Chris looked towards where J.D. was pointing and they both dismounted and walked over to the rocks. Josiah and Nathan were searching the ground for anything else that might have been left by the sharpshooter. Josiah had already read and understood the sign, but allowed J.D. his moment with Chris.

Josiah was aware of all the time Vin spent showing J.D. how to hunt, track and survive in the wilds. The Preacher smiled to himself thinking on Vin making sign just for J.D. and Vin knowing how proud J.D. would be for the finding and reading of it.

Josiah smiled broadly at Nathan and patted his shoulder. Nathan looked at Josiah quizzically, not sure what brought on the preacher's mirth. Seeing Nathan's confusion, Josiah pointed towards Chris and J.D., both huddled together with heads down looking at the rocks, and watched as Nathan's eyes lit with amusement at the sight of the men. Nathan nodded his head to Josiah as they walked over to J.D. and Chris.

"Vin went straight ahead according to the sign he left." J.D. reported his findings confidently. "If he changes course, he'll leave more rocks to let us know."

Chris smiled at J.D. and put his hand on J.D.'s shoulder. "Good work, Son. Let's get movin' before Vin gets himself int' deep shit." Nathan, Josiah and J.D. laughed at Chris' words, but Chris wasn't amused, worrying too much about Vin. The men remounted and spurred their horses in the direction Vin had indicated for them to go.

J.D. noticed him first, like a copper blaze that swiftly crossed into their path, and he pulled in the reins, stopping abruptly. "What is it, J.D.?" Josiah stopped next to J.D., searching the rocky slopes and distant mountains. The trace dropped down in between two embankments and they felt unsettled from being closed in, attentively watching the shadows.

"I saw somethin' just ahead." J.D. strained his eyes, worriedly. "I coulda sworn it was an Indian."

"Was he on foot or pony?" Josiah looked around warily. Chris and Nathan reined up next to Josiah. "What is it?" Chris followed Josiah's line of vision and then turned to glance at J.D. who appeared skittish, trying to track down the shadow he had seen.

"Someone's up ahead." Josiah stared down the trace, eyes hunting for unseen peril. "Best keep an eye out."

They brought guns to hand and traveled single file through the narrow pass cautiously. Chris was first in line and he let out a curse when he encountered eight Springfield "trapdoors" pointed at his chest as he entered open space.

Eight buffalo soldiers stood before them menacing and impregnable with rifles trained on each of them. J.D. swallowed loudly, and darted his eyes back and forth from Chris to the soldier who impassively pointed his gun at him.

Chris was the first to speak, conveying annoyance at being threatened with rifles by the army. "Where just passin' through. There's no need for the rifles."

Chris look around at each soldier. Not one flinch or movement, just dead aim on them, which was starting to rile him something fierce. "Who's in charge?" Chris needed to get away and warn Vin that the buffalo soldiers were too close. He could only foresee bloodshed and no escape for Black Bear. He worried for Vin and was ready to go for his sidearm as the panic raised up in him, keeping him from thinking straight. Calm down, Larabee. Keep it under control!

J.D. took in a sharp breath as he gazed upon a fierce warrior with eyes, gray and penetrating, riding up to Chris. He wore his sable hair tied tightly on both sides of his head wrapped in fur and silver hoops adorned his ears. He wore around his neck what appeared to be a pearl broach and J.D. could see traces of white in his features. Quanah! J.D.'s heart raced as he recalled Vin talking of his boyhood companion.

The warrior walked his black paint up to Chris as a soldier rode behind him. The warrior and Chris glowered at each other defiantly, until the warrior let out a boisterous laugh and spoke the Comanche language. The soldier turned to Chris, interpreting the words in English. "Tanner has a powerful friend with no fear."

Chris hid his surprise at the warriors words spoken through the soldier and cursed to himself, realizing who the warrior was, and not knowing if this would be trouble. The warrior, Quanah continued in Comanche and the soldier spoke again. "You are Tanner's friend, even if you do not speak of it. I saw it in your eyes when I spoke his name."

Chris was guarded and did not respond to the warrior's words not wanting to jeopardize Vin or Black Bear. The soldier quickly interpreted Quanah's words. Chris never once taking his eyes from the warrior.

"I know Tanner is trying to protect Black Bear." Quanah's eyes bore into Chris' with intensity, showing Chris his need to bring back his People alive. "Black Bear was kind to me. I will show him no harm."

"What about Tanner?" Chris wanted to be sure that Vin would not be harmed by the buffalo soldiers. Again, the soldier turned to Quanah and spoke.

"So you do know of him?" Quanah smiled shrewdly at Chris, who glared at Quanah and still would not answer. The soldier continued speaking back and forth between the men.

"What about the soldiers?" Chris was undaunted and needed the situation resolved.

"Black Bear won't go back." Chris stated this straight out, wanting to see the warrior's reaction. Chris watched as his words were relayed to Quanah.

"He must." Quanah did not falter. "He wishes to die free, but it cannot be so." Chris waited for the words to be spoken in English.

"Tanner wishes it." Chris continued, wanting Quanah to know the seriousness of the circumstances. Vin would fight the soldiers to give Black Bear what he wanted and Chris and the boys would fight the soldiers to protect Vin. Again, the soldier spoke to Quanah, Chris' words.

Quanah understood and nodded. "We will see." The dialogue ended abruptly as an Officer approached the three men.

"Quanah Parker." The young Lieutenant trotted up to the warrior with trepidation and appeared unsure of himself. His uniform was showing signs of wear and was covered in dust and alkali. His eyes were fatigued and showed fear and that worried Chris more than the buffalo soldiers. He did not want an antsy, wet behind the ears Officer giving orders that could get men killed. That could get Vin killed.

"Who are these men?" The Lieutenant glanced at the soldier waiting for him to interpret his words and then he looked over at Chris. The young officer was unable to maintain eye contact with the intimidating gunslinger in black.

"No one that matters," Quanah stated vaguely in Comanche to the Lieutenant, showing disdain with his tone of voice. It was quickly interpreted and the young Lieutenant nodded his head in response.

"Well, then let's carry on." The young Lieutenant turned away and cursed his damnable luck for being in the middle of hell with no chance of salvation, until they captured the remaining runaways.

He was dumfounded when the Colonel picked him to ride on this expedition through the waterless, dusty, soul-stealing abyss that brought him nothing, but anguished. He did not care anymore who went back alive as long as it was him and someone to get him there in one piece. Lieutenant Cooper was furious at his plight and was ready to kill every Indian that he saw from here on out with little qualm!

The buffalo soldiers mounted their horses, riding off after Quanah who was headed straight for Vin and the Comanches. Chris cursed and looked at the men at his side not liking the way things were playing out and not wanting the men to be in this quandary.

"It's okay, Chris. We came t' help, Vin." Josiah spoke for all of them mindful that Chris felt responsible for the men's safety. "We're here freely. You didn't hold a gun t' our heads. Stop takin' the blame fer all of this."

"Yeah, Chris," J.D. enthused. "It was our decision and now we got t' get it done."

They looked a long while at each other and nodded. They were going to help a friend and no one would get in their way.

They were up high, he knew it and he felt their eyes and rifles on him, not firing just watchful. The Comanches' curiosity outweighed their concern as they watched the buckskin-clad man riding into their camp with a white flag raised to them in a show of peace and the need to parley.

Vin was weary and his leg was a mite grievous. His body ached and the chills battered him with a fury. He wanted to stop, needed his coat and he struggled to put it on only to find himself assaulted with a heat that burned through him. Sweat dampened his clothes and he swore softly out into the night's silence, cursing his weakness knowing that he needed to be strong to help Black Bear.

The higher embankment caught Vin's eye and he saw a young warrior perched with an ease like a bird of prey, quiet and watchful, clutching an old carbine aimed directly at him. To the left he caught a movement of shadow that skittered away like a ghost, causing Vin to mistrust his eyes.

Again a movement to his right, and Vin startled as though someone was alongside him, but vanished before his mind and eyes took sight of it, leaving doubt. He was too vulnerable in his sickliness and the Comanches were too stealth in their wariness.

Vin caught sight of the warrior, unarmed and defiant, waiting for him to approach. He was older, much older, but still the man Vin remembered and dreamed about for many years after he had been taken away. His heartbeat pulsed loudly in his ears, roaring, making him almost deaf. Vin feared he would not hear the old man speak and the young boy deep within him that could still wish and still hold dreams to his heart, feared that the moment would be lost.

Vin shivered as a chill ran over him and he gripped the reins tightly as Peso belligerently sidestepped and tossed his head skittishly up and down, causing Vin to drop the flag to the ground at the warrior's feet.

"Ahpi," Vin spoke softly worried that his father would not know him. A terror grabbed hold of his heart and his insides lurched at the sudden realization that this man may not remember him and that he had imagined a love of family out of a foolish need to have roots and to be wanted. Was it a lie? Vin spoke again needing to know, "Ahpi." *Father*.

The old warrior strained his eyes, staring up at the tahbay-boh that brought back a memory so real, he swayed unsteadily from the intensity of it. " Tua," Black Bear spoke with unbridled emotion and reached out his arms to Vin. "Tua." *Son*.

Vin dismounted unmindful of his injured leg and dropped to the ground in pain. Black Bear knelt near Vin, gently helping him up, his face expressing concern. As they stood together, Black Bear reached over and removed Vin's hat to see his son's face more clearly. The memory true as he saw the eyes. "Netua." *My son* Black Bear hugged Vin close to him and he cried for his son lost to him so long ago and for his beloved wife.

Vin grasped fast to the old man and the memories unfettered, unaware of the inquisitive warriors encircling them. Vin could not speak, did not dare to speak and did not wish to speak. He did not want to disturb their fleeting reunion, but was mindful of the need to move on and away from Quanah and the soldiers.

Black Bear looked at the three warriors and spoke, "Soovesi niniria huunu?akimaki kahkinivai. Pii?okwetti. EkapIti." *A long time ago we camped by the creek. Blood is flowing. Red Water.* Black Bear continued, "Nahweetii ninni." *We all are cying.* Black Bear looked up towards the darkened sky and his voice flowed with the sorrow of loss. "My wife, Walks in the Sun died that day and my son, Tanner was taken from me."

Vin listened to his father's painful recall of their time on the Pease River, and was moved by his poetic words, filled with anguish. They had lost so much. Vin looked at the warriors and raised up his hand placing it on Black Bear's shoulder. "Itsa niahpi." *This is my father.*

The warriors nodded and accepted what was said, no longer feeling rancor towards the tahbay-boh. The rivers and the plains flowed, unmercifully with the blood of their People and they felt sorrow for Black Bear's loss, that was also a loss of their own. They reached out their arm to Vin in welcome and turned away silently, slipping into the darkness, keeping vigil.

Black Bear observed his son with a father's eye and took his arm leading him towards the fire. "Kahti." *Sit* Vin did not argue and allowed his body to drop to the ground quickly, knowing that the fierce pain would come no matter what he did. The blackness curtained his eyes and he wiped at them trying to push the darkness away. Vin blinked repeatedly and finally was able to focus on the fire as it steadily became clearer in his vision.

"You are sick *uneminahcat*." Black Bear brought his hand up to Vin's forehead and turned worried eyes to his son.

"I'm fine, Ahpi." Vin shifted his body closer to the fire and Black Bear hurriedly put a blanket around him. Vin pulled the blanket close grateful for its warmth. He looked at Black Bear and spoke his concern. "The long-knives are coming."

Black Bear stared into the fire. "Nahkia urii pitiru?i tiano kee." *Maybe they'll come and maybe they won't.*

They sat quietly, knowing words would not bring back the missing years, but relishing the bittersweet moments of being together, although their time would be ebbing.

"Puetzconacuere rakwi mi?aru?i." Vin broke the silence needing to let Black Bear understand his intent. *At morning, we'll go.*

The buffalo soldiers rode single file into the night, guided by the war chief, Quanah. Lieutenant Cooper swayed in his saddle, needing to sleep, but could not bring himself to order the Comanche to stop and make camp.

Each time he went to speak, the formidable Indian glared at him and brought his hand towards his knife. Why the hell did Mackenzie allow this Indian to have a knife and rifle? Lieutenant Cooper feared the warrior, even with the buffalo soldiers close by him. This Comanche did not appear to cower from death or injury and surely would relish killing a white soldier if given the opportunity.

The young Lieutenant would not risk provoking Quanah, a friend to Colonel Mackenzie. The Lieutenant felt anger rising within him reflecting on Quanah telling the renegades that they would not be sent to Fort Leavenworth as if his word would make it so. He scoffed in disgust at the contemptuous behavior of the savage.

And who were those four men riding behind them? Quanah said they were of no concern, but the men seemed to be shadowing them. What did they want? Again, he could not muster the courage to question Quanah. He rode along in a festering rage and gripped the pommel tightly. His knuckles turning white from the strength of his grasp. He would be home soon and this hell would be a nightmarish memory.

Chris watched the young Lieutenant glimpse furtively back at the four men. This officer was too unsettled and could be trouble. Chris spurred his black into a trot and reined his horse alongside the Lieutenant, stifling a laugh as the young man visibly jumped in his saddle at the encroachment.

"Good Evening, Lieutenant." Chris casually spoke as if he was out for an evening ride.

"Good Evening, Sir." The Lieutenant's voice faltered and looked at the man in black. "We weren't properly introduced. I'm Lieutenant Cooper out of Fort Sill and you are?"

"Larabee." Chris waited for the Lieutenant to speak, knowing he was anxious with the men following him.

"Are you here to interfere with United States Army business?" The Lieutenant trembled and was surprised by his audacity. He was aware that this man was a professional shootist.

Chris smiled broadly and reined in the black. The Lieutenant halted and waited for the gunslinger to speak, dreading what was going to be said.

"We've got some interest in seein' no harm comes t' these runaways," Chris stated with a threatening air.

The Lieutenant shifted in the saddle and took a moment to catch his breath. This man was even more frightening than the damn Indian. God help him. What next? He turned to look at Larabee. "The United States Army has no intention of hurting any of the Renegades. They will be treated judiciously and will be returned to Fort Sill safely."

"Alright." Chris smiled, his eyes cold and determined. "I'm holdin' you t' that." He reined the black around towards the men and trotted away kicking up a cloud of dust that coated the Lieutenant. Chris laughed heartily as he heard the Lieutenant curse. He worried for Vin, but he had Quanah's word that no one would be harmed. Chris hoped that would be enough.

It had been a night of fitful sleep mixed with fiery pain that burned through his leg, and chills that convulsed his body. He recalled his father's face through the night, offering him water and a gentle hand. He was safe which allowed him to fall into a restless slumber. He had dreams, first pleasant and then turning menacing with Black Bear lying dead, blood flowing from him and Walks in the Sun pointing an accusing finger at him with angry words. "You failed. You failed."

Vin moaned and opened his eyes to the darkness that soon would be daybreak. He rubbed his face roughly and searched the camp. Black Bear slept seated to his right. He saw the three warriors readying their ponies. Vin sat up stiffly and tried to stand. He pushed himself through the pain in his leg and closed his eyes tightly to the spots that darted and danced through his vision. He gave himself a moment to conquer his ills and stood straight, reeling, but upright. It was all he could wish for at the moment. Damn, he sure would love a cup of coffee.

Black Bear watched Vin with keen eyes ready to lend his help, if his son needed him. He nodded his head at the willful, bold spirit of the man that held true to the memory of the boy he had loved. Black Bear was proud of this man who stood before him and was grateful that the spirits had guided Tanner to the People as a young boy.

The Spirits had been benevolent again, giving Black Bear the gift of seeing his son once more before he died, but he worried that his son would get caught up in the peril of this mortal hunt. Tanner must leave him to his own fate, but Black Bear knew it would be a struggle to make him do so. Tanner would give his life for his Ahpi which Black Bear refused to let come to pass.

Black Bear stood and reached for Vin who swayed slightly, trying to keep the dizziness and nausea from assaulting him. "Tua, you are too sick to ride."

Vin opened his eyes that were shut tight as he tried to hold back the pain and weariness that inflicted him from the knife wound. Black Bear was by his side watching with concern for his son. "I'm fine, Ahpi." Vin spoke in a raspy whisper and was surprised at the sound of it. "Need water." Vin hobbled over to Peso, each step releasing a barrage of pain up his leg and into his back.

Black Bear walked beside Vin, safeguarding him from a fall. "Nasuan suri ma nahai." *It is getting worse.*

Vin stopped at Peso's flank, resting his head for a moment and reaching for the canteen wrapped around the pommel. He savored the water as it ran down his parched throat. He poured a scant amount on a spare bandanna and wiped down his face. Vin felt played out and was madder than hell at his predicament, but he wasn't going to be talked into staying behind, leaving his father alone to die. He didn't come all this way to fail.

The nightmare slammed forcefully into his thoughts, and Vin held tight to the saddle horn to keep from falling. Her voice was enraged and anguished, shouting, "You failed. You failed." He brought his hands up to cover his ears as the keening of the dead tormented him. He had failed them all.

"Tua, Tua." Black Bear held Vin's arm tightly, seeing the anguish on his son's face. "What is wrong, my son?"

Vin focused on Black Bear and wiped his forehead with the bandanna not able to speak, his breath rapid and his heart pounding in his ears. "Nothing," Vin replied tersely, afraid to share his nightmare. "Innha pi?esi?" *Are you ready to go?* Vin refused to acknowledge Black Bear's look of concern and stoically mounted Peso, burying the pain that sent a spasm through him from the slightest pressure of weight put on his left leg.

Black Bear shook his head troubled by the stubborn man, but did not wish to do battle with him. Tanner had chosen his path and Black Bear would respect his decision. The three warriors rode up beside Vin and Black Bear, watching the older man struggle to mount. Vin cursed at seeing how frail Black Bear had become, knowing the harsh land and the toll of being hunted was weakening him, rapidly.

The warriors would be heading for the Del Norte and the Santiago Mountains and into Mexico, while Vin and Black Bear would return to the Staked Plains. It would be a challenging journey and Vin hoped to meet up with the boys soon. The warriors clasped arms with Black Bear and Vin, wishing each other good fortune and a safe journey.

Josiah held Chris back as they watched the soldiers encircling the Comanches' camp. Their deadly Springfield rifles were aimed and ready to kill, if the renegades did battle and chose not to come peacefully. Josiah grabbed hold of the bridle on Chris' black, causing Chris to curse loudly, threatening Josiah with a bullet betwixt his eyes. Josiah observed the rage coursing through Chris, as he pulled on the reins and reached for his sidearm.

As the gun made contact with Josiah's head and he heard the hammer cock, Josiah knew he had pushed the gunslinger too far. He released the bridle without a moments hesitation and looked Chris squarely in the eyes, showing no fear. "You c'n kill me Chris, if ya like, but it ain't goin' t' do Vin any good with ya chargin' in there. We got t' see what's goin' on first." Josiah's steady gaze calmed the gunslinger and he holstered his gun, unapologetically.

"Don't ever do that again." Chris' voice was filled with deadly intent as he continued watching the soldiers and then rode up to Lieutenant Cooper with no more words spoken to the men. He was ready to do battle with anyone that got in his way and he was going to make sure that* boy* didn't do anything foolish to cause Vin harm.

The Lieutenant saw a black figure coming towards him out of the corner of his eye and a shiver ran over him. He was frightened enough being so close to warring renegades, knowing that he could easily be in the line of fire, and now this man who frightened him unmercifully, was riding up to him. Larabee had wanted no harm to come to these renegades and he had rashly promised that there would be no problems. What choice did he have, but to promise, it was what Larabee had wanted and the Lieutenant had wanted to remain alive.

"What's going on?" Chris was in no mind for small talk and wanted to head on in to the camp. "Where's Quanah?"

Before Lieutenant Cooper had a chance to respond to Chris' questions, colors of raven, copper, and earth flashed by him and stopped at his side as the war chief sat proudly and defiantly in beaded breechclout and ornamented hair, watching the Lieutenant settle himself from his fright at his intrusion.

Chris laughed out loudly at the Lieutenant's discomfiture and in a flicker the laughter changed to a menacing growl as he turned his blazing green eyes on Quanah. "What in the hell are you doin' with all them guns trained on them renegades. You told me that you wouldn't cause them any harm." Chris was not to be placated or put off any longer. "I'm ridin' in with ya if that's your intent and if it's not, I'm goin' in anyway."

Quanah listened to the words of the interpreter who was always at the ready by his side. He watched Chris who sat straight-backed and tense, bringing a smile to Quanah, reminding him of a cougar, toyorocho, lithe and lean, coiled tightly ready to spring on its prey. This man was fearless and dangerous, a worthy friend for Tanner.

"We will go to talk. There will be no harm done." Quanah turned to the Lieutenant and lifted his chin towards him and cocked his head in the direction of the camp and rode off, indicating that they should follow him.

Chris galloped quickly behind Quanah. He turned to the men, his eyes telling them to stay put, watch and be ready. Josiah, Nathan and J.D. nodded to Chris showing that they understood. J.D. removed his colt from the holster and Josiah and Nathan took their carbines from the scabbards and rested them on their pommels waiting and watching intently, hoping things would play out right. Josiah turned his eyes to the heavens and prayed to a God that did not always offer solace or salvation to the virtuous of this earth.

Chris and Quanah galloped in fast towards the encampment, side by side, neither one afraid to stare death or the devil in the eyes. The Comanche warriors reined their paints to an abrupt stop as they watched Quanah and a tahbay-boh in black, riding towards them. Their hands groped in desperation for their old rifles, and were ready to take aim at the war chief that was now a friend to the long-knives. Vin saw the warlike gesture and watched in alarm as Larabee rode into the path of their guns.

Vin raced Peso over towards the Comanches, placing himself in the line of fire. "Tocuse!" *No* Black Bear handily rode his paint in front of Vin with agility and speed. Vin unavailingly tried to set Peso in front of the rifles, but Black Bear was tenacious.

Vin cursed in English, "Dammit, Old Man, git out of the way." Black Bear laughed loudly, amused at Vin, seeing the anger rising up in his son that he recalled as being even-tempered and soft spoken.

"Chucuhpua , tocuse!" *Old man, no!* Vin was panicked and concerned for Chris and Black Bear.

The Comanches lowered their rifles not wanting to hurt Black Bear, but were angered at Quanah whom they saw as a traitor and their enemy. They silently waited with eyes keen and watchful.

Vin saw the buffalo soldiers in position on the edges of the encampment. Their sights were aimed on the Comanches. Vin cursed out loud as a deepening awareness of being trapped started to grow within him. Vin tried to calm himself as he glanced over to Chris who returned Vin a reassuring nod.

Chris sensed Vin's uneasiness and pushed his black passed Quanah to get to Vin. The Comanches raised their rifles and Vin again placed himself in harm's way. He spoke to the warriors, "Puniti." *Look* and pointed around the camp at the buffalo soldiers. Vin flinched as he saw the defeat fill their eyes.

Chris reined his horse next to Vin, unafraid of the warriors that could easily shoot him down without wavering. Chris' only concern was for Vin and getting him out of there. "Come on Vin, Quanah's goin' t' work it out. They're goin' t' be safe."

Vin listened to Chris' words, but his eyes only saw the buffalo soldiers and their rifles aimed at his father's heart. "Come on Vin, Black Bear needs to palaver with Quanah."

"Cain't, Chris." Vin lifted his eyes to Chris, hoping for understanding. As he turned towards the warriors, Vin caught the sight of a soldier riding in with his gun drawn. Chris saw him also, and turned quickly towards the fool kid, hoping to keep him from provoking the Comanches with his threatening manner.

Quanah was unaware of the Lieutenant's foolhardiness as he spoke with the warriors. He kept a watchful eye on the buffalo soldiers, knowing all hell would break loose, if a soldier overreacted to the hostile gestures of the Comanches as they palavered.

Quanah had offered the warriors a safe return to Fort Sill and promised they would not be sent away to Fort Leavenworth. They would be treated fairly and no harm would come to them. They would not be imprisoned. The long-knife Mackenzie gave Quanah his word and had not lied to Quanah, as most tahbay-boh had done.

The youngest of the warriors did not listen to Quanah's words and did not want to return to the reservation. He would die in freedom before he would go back. Quanah saw the defiance in the young one and felt a pride in his People, knowing that courage and honor still ran strong in their youth, but he knew the young would have to learn like the old to accept life as it was now.

"Do not be foolish, you must come back." Quanah spoke to the young warrior who looked back with fury in his eyes.

"Tocuse. I will never go back there." The young warrior reared up his paint in a show of rebellion and galloped around the camp, agitated. Quanah raised a hand up to the buffalo soldiers telling them to hold fire and remain calm. The young warrior continued to circle his pony around the camp as Black Bear, Quanah and the others looked on, waiting for the youth to settle.

Vin watched the warrior warily and hoped that he would not notice the soldier riding in with his gun drawn. Vin galloped alongside Chris, hoping to help avert trouble, but it was too late as the young warrior let out a loud yell and raced towards the young Officer. Vin rode Peso towards the Comanche, trying to cut him off from his aim, but the warrior was intent on reaching the soldier.

Chris saw the Comanche coming and chose not to be in his path, reining his black to a halt. He looked incredulously at the young warrior, not believing what he saw occurring. What the hell was going on here? That Comanche was going to get himself killed. Chris observed a look of horror cross Vin's face as Vin realized the intention of the young warrior.

The young Comanche let out a cry, "Aaa-hey!" *I claim it.* He brought up his hand and hit the Lieutenant hard, almost knocking him out of the saddle. Vin and Chris saw the panic in the Officer's eyes. Vin was the first to react as the warrior turned to count coup, one more time.

The Lieutenant only saw a fierce Indian coming at him, full gallop with a rifle in his hands and he raised his weapon unsteadily, trying to remember how to use the damn thing, pulling the trigger as his body shook in fright.

The rifle's impact knocked the Lieutenant out of the saddle and Chris would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, except he saw Vin ride in front of the warrior and fall from the gelding to the ground as the bullet tore into him.

Vin saw the look of shock and disbelief in Chris' eyes as he fell from the saddle and impacted hard against the unyielding earth. Vin's only thoughts were of Chris and Black Bear, knowing he had failed them both.

Heedlessly, Chris bolted towards the Lieutenant who laid on the ground stupefied, trembling with fear. He jumped from the black and hurled himself onto the soldier propelled by pent-up fury. Chris grabbed the young Officer by his uniform shirt and backhanded him hard across the face, drawing blood from his lower lip. The Lieutenant cowered away from the gunslinger, not knowing what he had done to cause this rage.

"What the hell were you thinkin' ridin' in here like that?" Chris slapped him again and then released a fierce uppercut to his jaw, knowing there was no justifying stupidity. Chris threw him to the ground, unconscious and turned towards Vin who lay unmoving with blood soaking the earth beneath him.

As Chris ran to Vin, he saw that Quanah had called in the soldiers who now surrounded the Comanches. Surrendering their rifles and weapons, they sat silently watching as the buffalo soldiers tied and secured the young warrior to his pony.

Black Bear watched the yellow-haired man run to his son and the old warrior was comforted when he saw the strong affection that the man carried in his heart for Tanner. He nodded his head to Chris and felt grateful that his son would not be alone.

As Chris knelt near Vin, he heard familiar voices above him that gave him the courage to turn Vin over to see what damage the bullet had inflicted. Chris held his breath and released it slowly, as Vin was taken from him and laid down gently, by the capable hands of their healer.

He looked at Nathan with eyes showing gratitude and trust. Nathan saw the faith that Chris placed in him and he shook his head as he looked down at the wound and then lifted his head, showing a toothy white grin to all the boys.

"Is he goin' t' be alright, Nathan?" J.D. was the first to ask as the others waited with uncertainty for his reply.

"He's goin' t' be jes' fine." Nathan bowed his head down with relief. "The bullet grazed his side. His losin' blood, but I'll stitch that up quick." Nathan looked into relieved faces. "J.D. go get my bag with the supplies."

Chris placed his hand on Nathan's shoulder in gratitude. Nathan nodded his head and looked at Chris, needing to explain Vin's condition. Chris raised his head up sharply, eyes alert, waiting for Nathan to speak. Chris' stomach clenched as anger pervaded him. Damn it. He just said everything was all right.

"Just say it, Nathan." Chris was angry and he needed to release the anger on someone or something. Nathan regarded Chris with concerned eyes, understanding his anger and knowing it to be for what it really was, undeniable fear.

"Take it easy, Chris. It ain't all that bad. It's jes' that he's weak 'n runnin' a fever from the leg wound. More'n likely tore open them stitches. Now, he's losing more blood. He's goin' t' be sick and weak and he's goin' t' fight us every step of the way, worryin' 'bout Black Bear." Nathan looked down at Vin who lay still and pale and he put his hand to his forehead drawing his brows together in concern over the heat that meant his touch. "Too damn hot."

"I'll make sure Black Bear is all right." Chris looked over his shoulder to Quanah and stood up stretching his back and working out the kinks from riding all night. He turned back to Nathan. "If he wakes up, you tell him I'm lookin' out for his kin."

Nathan smiled sadly down at Vin. "I'll do that, Chris. You go along now. He'll be jes' fine."

Chris squared his shoulders and walked determinedly, towards Quanah and if he wasn't mistaken, Chris thought he saw a smile lift the corners of the war chief's mouth as he looked in Chris' direction. Chris chuffed at that and cursed under his breath, "Damn Comanche." He shook his head, smiling and for the first time embraced a true understanding of the People.

He was hot and alone. Hot and then shivering down to his bones, down to his soul. An anguished voice came back to him, wailing for the dead, crying for Guasape, Black Bear, and taunting him. "You failed. You failed." He failed greatly, and left her to die alone. No, left him to die alone. Alone like he was now, like he was before, like he would always be. Don't make no never mind. It was just the way it was and he'd be fine.

Never did like being alone much, but too many folks around him, well that was just too much to take. He liked the boys being near and they seemed to understand when he needed to be by himself. Too afraid to get close, only to be left alone. *She* left him alone. Too hot and too many times left alone.

Where was he? Didn't feel safe, needed his gun. Open your eyes . . . Dammit!. . .Open your eyes. Then the shaking started and he couldn't stop the shivery cold, aching, clawing at him with icy fingers gripping tight, unmerciful and angry. It was all right, he needed to be punished, needed to feel pain because he failed all of them. He failed them and they left him alone.

"Vin, come on now drink this fer me." Nathan struggled with the tracker who had refused to take any fluids and he was worried. Two days of fever and the heat still gripped him.

Chris was beside himself with worry and was miserable to everyone. Even the great war chief, Quanah was wary of the gunslinger. Quanah had promised Larabee that he would not leave until he and Black Bear spoke with Tanner. Tanner needed to make peace with his father's journey. He would wait for Tanner to wake, if he did wake. Quanah knew it was not good to be fevered for too long.

Nathan saw Chris and Black Bear together, vigilant, waiting for word on Vin. They looked over at him expectantly, hoping for news of Vin's waking. Nathan was nearing desperation, but did not want to alarm Black Bear. He had examined the old warrior and determined that his heart was terribly weakened, more than likely, from an illness he had suffered long ago.

Nathan had told Chris that the man only had weeks left, and he was astounded that he was still alive, after journeying from Indian Territory which was over 500 miles away. Chris had not spoken when Nathan told of Black Bear's fate. He just nodded and quietly sat down beside Vin as he watched Vin's every breath and every tremor, willing the tracker to wake.

Nathan had forced Chris to get some food and some rest several hours ago and he hated to disturb him, but he had no choice. Nathan needed Chris' help hoping he could get through to the tracker. Chris stood quickly when he saw Nathan's head drop down to his chest discouraged. He ran towards the slight, limp figure laying on several blankets by the fire, covered head to toe.

He appeared so frail and his face was alabaster in the bright sunlight, making Chris afraid. He couldn't fight against this, didn't know where to begin, feeling powerless and that angered him greatly.

Nathan stood above the two men and handed Chris the medicinal tea of willow, poplar and wintergreen. The men smiled at each other knowing the disgust the tracker had for the pungent tea. All the men despised it, but the tracker voiced his dislike vehemently. Chris held the cup to the frail man's mouth and slid it between his lips patting his face gently to rouse him. Vin recoiled from the tea, trying to turn his head away from the cup at his lips.

"Good Chris, that's the most response we've got from him in awhile." Nathan was encouraged at the combative nature of the sharpshooter. "Git him good 'n mad."

Black Bear knelt down on the other side of Vin and gently ran his fingers over his son's brow. Nathan handed the old warrior a cool cloth and he began solicitously tending to Tanner. Chris watched Black Bear care for Vin and felt heartened by the sight of it, knowing Vin had had love of a family, no matter how brief.

"Come on now Vin, you got t' drink this down for me." Chris raised Vin's head up and forced the cup into his mouth, again. Vin opened his lips and took a small swallow. The men let out an elated cheer and Chris smiled up into the faces of Nathan, J.D. and Josiah. Black Bear bowed his head down in thanks to the spirits. Chris pressured the tracker to drink more and he again took a small swallow.

"Good, Chris. He's goin' t' be fine if'n he drinks." Nathan smiled reassuringly at Chris. "Keep at it."

Chris could see that Vin was tiring, but he wouldn't give up until all the tea was consumed by the sharpshooter. It took thirty tedious minutes to get the small cup of medicinal tea into Vin, but Chris was overjoyed at the hope it offered them. He rested himself down against his saddle that lay alongside Vin's and closed his eyes spent from the anxiety of the last few days.

Black Bear stood up and walked over to Chris and flagged the other men over to him. Chris opened his eyes and watched Black Bear as he tried to communicate with them.

"Netua, Tanner." Black Bear paused. "Tacusip." *sweat* He repeated himself several times and raised his index fingers up and crossed them at the first joints. Josiah read the sign. "He's signing Teepee." Josiah listened to the Comanche word and shrugged. "Where's that interpreter?" Josiah looked around, but did not see him.

Black Bear brought his hand up to wipe his brow as if he was very hot. J.D. jumped up and enthusiastically yelled out, "Sweat." The men looked at each other and laughed shouting, "Sweat. Tacusip." Black Bear smiled and replied. "Haa."

Nathan completed the puzzle, "Sweat lodge." He looked at Josiah mindful of the fact that Josiah had experience in the ways of purification. " Mebbe it ain't got t' be a lodge, mebbe somethin' smaller."

"Just a blanket held up over Brother Vin would be 'nough." Josiah agreed with Nathan and looked over at Chris. "We just heat up a few rocks and place it with Brother Vin under a few blankets. We can hold it tight over him and Nathan can pour the heated medicinal waters over the stones. Sometimes after the sweat, they plunge the sick int' cold water. But, we won't be able t' do that. It'll still be of help, though." Josiah watched Chris to see if he was in agreement. "I've seen it work for the People. Hopefully, he'll sweat it out 'n break the fever."

Chris looked over at Nathan and wanted his opinion respecting his knowledge as a healer. "It's a good idea, Chris." Nathan was chagrined. "I shoulda thought of it m'self."

"It's not our way, Nathan." Josiah searched Nathan's eyes before continuing. "You always done right by us. Don't go doubtin' yerself now, Brother."

Nathan smiled at Josiah. "It's jes' sometimes I feel damn helpless and I ain't too proud to take help when it's offered."

"Well, we're here t' help, Brother Nathan." Josiah extended his hand to Nathan and clasped it, reassuringly. Chris let a smile come to him, feeling relieved. "So, let's get Vin better."

The good will and hope was infectious as they followed Nathan's and Josiah's instructions and good-naturedly tried to understand the signing of Black Bear as he pointed at rocks and searched through Nathan's pouch of medicinal herbs.

They were ready as they raised the blankets over the tracker and kicked in the heated rocks into a shallow hole they had dug. Chris went into the makeshift tent and sat behind Vin raising him to a seated position. Vin's head lulled and rested on his chest. Chris tapped his cheek, trying to rouse him. It was hot and getting hotter as Nathan poured the medicinal waters over the heated stones causing steam to rise.

Vin moaned and rolled his head away from the steam heat. "Iri?-iti ma." * It's hot* Vin mumbled and Chris looked at Nathan and shrugged not knowing what he said and then he let out a laugh when the tracker growled, "Too damn hot!"

Vin tried to break free of Chris' hold, but was too weak. Chris soothed the sharpshooter wiping his brow with a cloth and talking softly to him. "Rest easy, Vin this is goin' t' make ya better."

Chris continued in a calming voice. "I know it's hot, but I reckon we best get used t' it seein' Hell is just around the bend for our sorry hides."

Chris looked closely at Vin and saw a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Chris smiled down at him and patted his arm as he spoke. "We'll be ridin' int' Hell together, soon enough."

They continued changing the rocks adding heated ones as Nathan poured the medicinal water over the stones causing steam to rise. It had been two hours of sweating which Nathan worried might be too much for the weakened tracker. Vin roused a few times, and now seemed to be in a deep sleep, rather than an unconscious state.

Nathan and Chris wiped down the tracker and dressed him quickly, trying to avoid Vin getting a chill. They dried his hair as best they could and wrapped blankets around him as they laid him down to get some needed rest.

"We'll jes' wait now and see if that fever breaks." Nathan knelt down bringing his hand to Vin's forehead. "A lot cooler. That's a good sign. We'll jes' keep givin' him the tea and water every hour or so." Nathan stood up and stretched his back. Chris rested his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Get some sleep, Nathan. I'll keep an eye on him."

Nathan acquiesced, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Chris." He took one more glance at the lean man still looking terribly fragile and let out an audible sigh, rubbing his eyes and walked wearily away towards his bedroll.

Chris sat down resting his back against his saddle, placing his hand on Vin's forehead. He was pleased to find that it was cooler and he fell asleep unexpectedly, still with his hand placed gently on the tracker's forehead, bringing an ease to both men.

Josiah watched as he opened his blue eyes, struggling to focus on the shadows around him. It was night and Josiah sat quietly as Vin tracked the stars for the time and he heard him curse, realizing that he might have lost some days.

Vin turned his head slowly towards the preacher and gave him a weary smile. He didn't have the stamina to talk and Josiah nodded, aware of Vin's fatigue, giving a relieved grin back to the feeble sharpshooter.

"Welcome back, Brother Vin." Josiah spoke softly, soothing the weary tracker. Vin looked at Josiah, trying to make out the words, creasing his brow in concentration.

"It's all right, Son. Just relax y'self. You've b'n out for a few days now." Josiah reached for the canteen beside him and placed his ample hand under the tracker's head raising it slightly and brought the canteen to his lips. Vin drank down the water, enjoying the relief it gave him from his parched throat.

He stared at Josiah vacantly as he tried to get his exhausted mind to work. His thoughts and words were a jumble inside his head. Things needed to be done. He was mindful of that, but he couldn't quite figure out what he needed to do or what had brought him to this moment.

Vin looked up at Josiah with worry in his eyes. Josiah's heart went out to the young man and he extended his hand, gently pushing away wayward strands of wavy, light brown hair from the sharpshooter's forehead. Josiah held his hand there for a moment offering comfort.

"Now don't try to ponder on things too much, Vin." Josiah rested his hand on Vin's shoulder. "It'll come t' ya soon 'nough."

Vin nodded and closed his eyes no longer able to keep them open. Josiah patted the tracker's shoulder and murmured quietly, "That's it, Son, you rest now. Let us do the worryin' fer awhile."

Josiah placed his hand on the sharpshooter's chest, noticing a restfulness settling over him at the touch. He began softly reciting Proverbs into the starlit night, bringing quietude to man and beast as they listened to the timbre of his voice that floated in the air like gossamer and spiraled like music into the darkness.

It was still night when the sharpshooter stirred and Josiah woke up to troubled, blue eyes studying his face. Josiah lifted Vin's head and gave him water that he drank down heartily. Vin nodded, croaking out a raspy, "Thank ya, Josiah."

"My pleasure, Brother Vin." Josiah rested Vin's head back down and brought the covers up around his exposed neck, noticing a slight shiver run through the tracker.

"How are you feelin', Vin?" Josiah put his hand on Vin's forehead and was pleased that the fever had finally broken. "C'n ya tell me?"

Vin stared at Josiah for a long while and Josiah thought the sharpshooter might have forgotten the question. He was ready to repeat himself when Vin finally replied. Vin's blue eyes were still unfocused, but his thoughts were less muddled as he looked up at Josiah.

"Well, Brother Vin, I've got t' say you are lookin' a mite peaked, but much better ."

Vin nodded, but did not say more. His eyes drifted over towards the men sleeping near him. Josiah watched as he looked around and he saw the panic grip Vin when he couldn't search out Black Bear among the sleeping figures. The sharpshooter attempted to rise, but Josiah held him down with one arm using very little force. Vin cursed at his weakness and angrily shoved Josiah's hand aside.

"I understand yer frustration, Vin," Josiah stated, showing no rancor towards the tracker's temper. "You got t' rest some 'n then yer strength will come back."

"Where's Black Bear?" Vin grabbed hold of Josiah's arm, searching his face for answers.

Josiah put his free hand on Vin's that was holding fast to his arm. "He's fine, Vin. Black Bear's with Quanah. He's being treated right." Josiah still kept his hand on Vin's trying to convey the truth in his words through his reassuring touch. Vin loosened his grip on Josiah and laid back mollified for the moment.

Vin looked up at the stars knowing that Black Bear would soon be journeying to the land beyond the sun. Vin pondered on the beliefs of the People. He knew the tahbay-boh were angered and sickened by the indignity and mutilation of the dead, but this was borne out of a belief that the shade would walk the afterlife with the afflictions rendered to them at death. If an enemy had no limbs, he could inflict no harm in the afterlife. It was a gruesome sight to behold and Vin did not abide with this notion, but understood the reasoning for it.

Vin was taught that all the People would one day enter *heaven*, but would be denied to those that had been scalped or strangled, which worried him mightily about being hanged. The crossing would be difficult for those who died at night and in battle, the warriors would guard their dead at all costs to keep them from being butchered or scalped, so that they would have a safe journey to the afterlife.

Vin's thoughts drifted back to Black Bear. He would honor his father by bringing him home to the Staked Plains where his journey to the land beyond the sun would be unfettered and safe. The grasses would enfold him in death as they had cradled him in birth. It was only fitting that a Son would grant this honor to his Father.

Josiah saw that Vin was in quiet reverie and did not want to disturb the sharpshooter, mindful that he had much to contemplate. Vin's worry for his father and his desire to be with him at his dying was burdensome enough, but to go up against soldiers to get it done, well that was downright close to impossible. Josiah had seen the determined spirit in Vin many times before and he knew the tracker had surmounted worse odds in his life. He was confident that Vin would get this done no matter the obstacles.

Josiah had thought that Vin had gone back to sleep as he lay still with his eyes closed for over an hour. He startled when he heard Vin's faint voice call to him. Josiah, though a large man, moved effortlessly to Vin's side, offering Vin water. The tracker drank deeply and then looked intently into Josiah's eyes. Josiah smiled at Vin, knowing that Vin was studying on some conundrum that he needed answered.

"What is it, Brother Vin?" Josiah implored the tracker to speak. "What's troublin' you, Son?"

Vin turned his eyes away from Josiah not being able to trust people with his heart. It had been a long time since he felt true affection. He knew these men offered him friendship readily, but it was still too hard to let his guard down, to be vulnerable. He had taken care of himself since he was twelve and even some years before he came to the People.

Vin didn't know any other way, but to just get on with things or die. He didn't have the grit to start asking why things play out the way they do. It would surely kill him to start pondering on such concerns. He told Nettie he stopped questioning life. It's was just too hard. Being around her and the boys was giving him back something that was lost to him a long time ago and it was unsettling to want it so badly. He was afraid it would be taken away like it always was, like it always did.

As he mind wrapped around the pain in his heart, he let one simple word slip,"Alone." Josiah bent close to hear the soft, whispering voice. Vin turned on his side away from Josiah, saying nothing more.

Josiah's heart clenched and he swallowed hard as the anguish behind the word overwhelmed him, and he wanted to weep at the thought of a gentle, young boy growing up, unloved and alone. Josiah put his hand on Vin's shoulder, thinking of verses or psalms that would give comfort, but he knew that they were just words written by other folks and Vin needed to hear words from them. Vin needed to hear words from him, from his heart.

Josiah cleared his throat, trying to calm the emotions coursing through him and his voice came out strained and choking. "Vin, listen t' me. I want you t' know no matter what happens in this life, ya ain't never goin' t' be alone again. Not when the boys are 'round and not when I'm 'round. You c'n believe that with every fiber in you. I give you my word."

Vin held his breath, taking in Josiah's declaration filled with compassion and affection, spoken with truth and he reached up to the hand that rested on his shoulder, letting it sit for a moment and softly murmured, "Thank ya, Josiah."

Josiah smiled and bent over Vin who still wouldn't turn back or look at him. "Yer welcome, Brother Vin. Yer more than welcome." Josiah gave Vin a gentle pat on his back and left him alone to contemplate the promise given.

Chris had been listening to the two men and he was grateful Josiah had been there with Vin. Compassion and wisdom seemed to flow from Josiah with ease. He had a caring within him that he gave effortlessly, without shame. Chris had known that caring a long time ago and he had allowed himself to love openly and unencumbered. In doing so, he learned the deepest agony of loss and he had vowed never to be that vulnerable again.

Chris looked to the ebony skies that flickered with a thousand stars, and he saw his wife and son so clearly in the shadows of the night, it frightened him to feel so close to the love and pain again. He let out a breath filled with a sorrow and turned away from the dark memories, waiting for the anger that always came, but he was astonished to find his thoughts filled only with worry and concern for Vin. Chris took comfort in that and allowed sleep to come.

Lieutenant Cooper refused to wait another day longer to take the renegades back to Fort Sill. It was his duty as an Officer of the United States Army to lead these men back home and receive his acknowledgments for a job well done. Quanah Parker was not going to keep him stranded in this hellish land one more day. He wanted Fort Sill and he wanted it now!

He wrestled with the anger inside, himself and with the fear of confronting the Comanche, but, especially the fear of that Larabee. Quanah was staying because Larabee asked him to and it had something to do with the tracker. He was positive the damn tracker had been planning to flee with the renegades. That surely was an infraction of some kind. He appeared to have been interfering with US Army concerns, aiding the hostiles to escape. Well, he certainly was not going to press that issue. It seemed that Quanah and the old man Black Bear had strong ties with the tracker. No point in rocking the boat, seeing all the renegades were subdued and they would be on their way home.

He walked to the fire to sit with a cup of coffee and fervently hoped that today would be the day that they would leave. Lieutenant Cooper saw the soldiers watching him with disdain, but it was of little concern to him.

He belonged in the comfort of the Fort, taking care of the office duties and needs of his superiors. He was not a prairie-riding, Indian-killing, battle hardened soldier and did not wish to be one. He turned away from the scornful eyes of the soldiers and watched Quanah and Black Bear walk over towards the gunslinger and his men.

It should be settled soon. The Lieutenant sat back with eyes closed drinking coffee, happy with the knowledge that he would soon be back with the comforts of civilization no matter how scant and rough-hewn. The Lieutenant would wait only one more day. That was a promise, he made to himself, that he would keep.

Nathan had Vin trussed up tightly in blankets like a newborn babe and Vin was feeling downright ornery over the fussing. He had had the bandages changed and carbolic doused on him twice already, and it was still morning. Vin figured he might as well keep his pants off because Nathan would be at him again, taking them off and putting them back on, it was wearing him out greatly.

They had rested him up against his saddle and just left him there. He couldn't move and it was starting to make him skittish. They just off and left him sitting here high and dry. Where was Larabee and where was his gun?

As Vin looked around for his things, he began working at freeing his arms and then he started working on freeing his legs. He'd get free, even if he died trying. He was struggling fiercely now and he was starting to get a mite panicked by the whole damn predicament. If only he had been awake when they were trussing him up, but they got him when he drifted off after the second time of putting his pants back on, and that was just a plain, lowdown, no good thing to do to a man.

"Quit your struggling, Vin." Chris appeared from behind him and Vin was beginning to feel like a sitting duck not being able to move around at all. His last effort of trying to release his arms had sent him falling slightly sideways and he was feeling a mite mean-spirited as Chris lifted him and sat him upright like a sack of grain.

Chris looked down at him and smiled, green eyes flashing with mischief. "Don't think so, Vin. I like ya just like this. You can't get int' any trouble this way." Chris laughed at the furious face that looked up at him. "Besides you got company coming and ya look right nice all bundled up like that."

"Yer goin' t' pay, Larabee." Vin threatened Chris, but his mind was on Chris' words about *company*. He hadn't seen Black Bear in a few days, even if he did he couldn't remember. He had been out of it. He couldn't recollect being that sick in a long time. The fever and wounds had left him weary and weak. Vin looked up at Chris with one thing on his mind.

"I thought that might get your attention." Chris sat down next to Vin and reached for the canteen that was by Vin's side. "Here. Drink." Chris placed the canteen to Vin's mouth and he drank it down without protest. "You're lookin' a lot better." Chris studied the tracker as he drank and then placed the canteen on the ground near him.

"Chris, loosen the blankets." Vin squirmed around looking distressed. "I'm feelin' a mite closed in ." Vin looked at Chris with pleading, blue eyes.

"Here." Chris started to work at the blankets around the tracker and he saw him relax as his arms were freed. "Nathan and Josiah had you in there real good." Chris laughed at Vin's look of disgust. He adjusted the blankets and covered Vin up to his neck.

"Aw hell, Larabee. Cain't y'let me be?" Vin tried to swat at Chris' hands, but the blanket was in the way.

"No, I can't let ya be." Chris looked into Vin's eyes. "You were real sick, Vin and I don't want you gettin' sick again. We need ya t' be strong so we can get ya home."

"I got things t'do before I head back." Vin hoped Chris would not argue with him and was relieved when Chris just nodded.

"Quanah and Black Bear want t' palaver with ya for awhile. You up t' it?" Vin nodded his head 'yes'. Chris already knew what was going to be discussed and he looked at Vin for a long while before he walked away.

"Innh ihpi? ihka?" *Are you asleep* Vin startled awake to his father's voice and looked up into Black Bear's concerned eyes. He turned his head slowly and saw his boyhood friend standing beside his father, staring down at him.

"Kahti." *sit* Quanah squatted down next to Vin as Black Bear stood looking at his son, his heart filled with love. He sat down wearily beside him.

"Hakai inni nisuka?" *How do you feel?* Black Bear studied the blue eyes of Tanner. They appeared much clearer then the days before and his skin was not as white, tosapiti. The sun bronzed skin slowly beginning to return to him. "You were very sick, ueminahcat."

Vin watched his father sensing that a decision had been made without him. Vin spoke, trying to control his apprehension. "I am good,tzat, Ahpi."

"Many winters, tamarikikati, have passed since we have seen each other. Much has changed for the People. Your father and I each had more than 500 ponies now we have few. The long-knife take much from the People." Quanah spoke with sadness and Vin nodded with understanding.

Vin sat silently waiting for Quanah or Black Bear to speak, his eyes anxiously studying both men. Black Bear reached for Vin's hand and brought his eyes up to Vin.

"I need you to know that you have a brother, tammi. He is called, Arecaneuh, Two Deer. He was taken during a Tejano, Texan, raid. Word came to me that he was taken back by Kiowas, but is now living with the Cheyenne in the Big Horn with Dull Knife. One day, Tanner, you must find your brother and bring him home to his People. That is my wish. That is my hope" Black Bear's eyes held Vin's. "Will you do this for me?"

Vin gripped Black Bear's hand and with one word made a vow to his father. "Haa." *Yes* Vin looked away from Black Bear and at the soldiers. They were making preparations to leave, readying their horses and gear. Vin turned questioning eyes to Quanah and Black Bear. "Surise hakani na?aka?" *What's happening?* Vin looked piercingly at Black Bear. "Hakahpu inni mi? ai YU?" *Where are you going?*

Black Bear heard the turmoil in his son's voice and placed his hand on Vin's shoulder. "I must leave now." The old warrior struggled with his emotions. The blue eyes gazing up at him were filled with pain and fear. "Netua, you are too ill to ride. You must rest."

Vin could not speak, no words would come. Her voice cried out to him, "You failed. You failed."

"Pitsi nii mi?atsi Esiokwe." *I'm going back to Canadian River,gray flow.* Black Bear steeled himself and continued. "Quanah will take me."

"I am your son!" *tua* Vin looked at Black Bear with determined eyes. " It is my duty."

"It is enough that you came." Black Bear was tiring and he saw that Tanner's face was becoming flushed and he hoped the fever was not coming back. "You can do no more, now."

"Mihitiituaru?i nii." *I'll help you.* Vin tried to stand, but his leg buckled under him. Quanah put his hand on Vin's chest with affection.

"It is done, Tanner. I will see to your father." Quanah looked over at Black Bear. "I owe a debt to Black Bear for his kindness."

"Mi?aruinii." *I'm going to leave.* Black Bear hugged his son close to him wishing that their time together did not have to end. "Nawitsaki inni nirisunai." *Forgive me.*

Vin held fast to Black Bear's arm, not letting him leave. "Mi?aru?i nii nah." *I am going despite what you say*

Black Bear shook his head. "Tocuse!"*No* The old warrior commanded sharply as he stood with Quanah's help. He flinched as Vin's head dropped down at the admonishment and reached out his hand to his son's shoulder. "You are in my heart."

Chris watched as Vin struggled to stand and he ran over to help. "Hold on there, Vin. Take it easy." Vin reeled and Chris braced him, holding Vin around his chest. Vin desperately called out to Black Bear. "Ahpi, Tocuse, Tocuse!!"

Black Bear walked off with Quanah, listening to his son call out to him. The old warrior did not turn back to look, knowing that he would not be able to leave Tanner, if he did. His heart was breaking as he listened to the pleas of his son and he called out imploringly to Tanner, "Nawitsaki inni nirisuanai!" *Forgive me.*

The buffalo soldiers and Comanches trotted by the men in single file formation. Vin watched, horrified as his father disappeared into the dust and haze like an apparition, falling to the ground defeated, murmuring over and over words spoken in English and Comanche that Chris strained to discern. "Na nii miini. I failed. I failed."

Chris watched Vin lay silent and withdrawn most of the day and he was starting to get worried and angry. Nathan had tried to get the tracker to drink and Vin would not respond. Josiah offered words of hope and encouragement and Vin turned away from him. J.D. spoke to Vin of the town and Nettie and Vin stared at him, eyes empty and unfocused. Chris was angry and it was going to end now!

The men sat around the sharpshooter saddened and unsure of what to do for him. They all looked up warily as they saw a windstorm of black fury race towards the prone and unresponsive man. Chris stood above Vin, seething with rage at himself for caring too damn much and at Vin for giving up on the men, giving up on their life in Four Corners.

Chris was angry and scared and scared was not something a man like him was readily able to admit. Dammit! He was afraid to lose Vin and that made him madder than all hell. When did this man become so important to him? He didn't have the answer. He never thought he would ever actually feel anything again. This damn tracker wasn't going to up and die on him and make him go through that hell again. Not again!

Nathan and Josiah stood in Chris' path. "He ain't strong enough fer any of yer talk, Chris." Nathan walked in front of Vin, defending the sharpshooter against Chris' palpable rage.

Chris turned his fierce green eyes to Nathan, "Get out of my way, Healer." Nathan would not shift from his sheltering stance. "Dammit, Chris! Yer not thinkin' straight. Y' might make things worse off."

Chris' eyes cut through Nathan, causing Nathan to wince at the intensity of it. "Chris," Nathan hung his head in resignation. " Jes' take it easy on him. He's still too weak and he's fevered again."

Josiah turned to Chris seeing the pain in him beneath the anger. "The spirit of a man will sustain him in sickness, but who can bear a broken spirit?" * Josiah spoke quietly to the gunslinger, "He'll listen to you, Chris. I have faith."

Chris stared at Josiah and a wicked smile crept to his handsome face that was still shrouded with fiery rage. "Faith and your God's got nothin' to do with this Preacher Man. God never lent a hand when it was needed to be given and I'm not waitin' on his help, now!"

Josiah knew Chris' words were said out of a fear of losing something vital in his life. Hell, they were all afraid. Maybe, God wouldn't have a hand in getting Vin to come back to them, but maybe He would. Maybe, He would. Josiah stared into Chris' face and saw the fear, the anger and the *love*. Now, if that wasn't some kind of miracle. . .Josiah shook his head with a smile at the realization. Maybe, He already did! Josiah looked at Chris and spoke softly. "God helps those who help themselves."

Josiah moved aside and took Nathan by the arm, leading him away from Chris and Vin. Nathan shook his head at Josiah and pulled his arm away, walking closer to Vin.

"All right, Nathan. You stay close, if that's what y'need t' do." Josiah sat down next to J.D. whose eyes were transfixed on the turbulent scene before him. He looked gut shot with his mouth opened wide in shock and his eyes filled with terror. Vin wasn't going to die on them. Why was everyone getting so riled? Why was Chris so angry at Vin? Vin wouldn't die on them. J.D. looked at Josiah with eyes questioning and afraid.

"It's goin' t' be just fine, J.D." Josiah smiled knowingly. "Y'just got t' have a little faith."

J.D. stared at Josiah, perplexed at the smile that was openly displayed across Josiah's strong-jawed features.

"Are you all goin' crazy?' J.D. asked looking for answers and reassurance from the men and knowing that he wouldn't be getting any, not now anyway. He sat closer to Josiah, hoping the preacher's faith would somehow find it's way into his heart, and he said a quiet prayer just to help it along.

Chris looked down at the desolate figure before him and he almost didn't have the heart to bring the tracker anymore pain. But, then the anger slammed into his gut like a train, running fast and out of control, and he gave into it with his hands fisted and eyes filled with fury, searing all in it's path.

Chris knelt down low and menacing, looking into the sharpshooter's face. His anger was so volatile that he could feel it course through him from his toes to the roots of his hair, and he shook from the effort to control it. "Never thought you were a damn coward. Never thought you'd run out on us." Chris' words spoken low and lethal into the tracker's ear, so close and so fierce that Vin turned away from it, bringing his hands to cover them.

Chris grabbed at his hands forcing them down and Vin was too weak to fight him. Chris gripped Vin's chin, holding tight and brought the tracker's eyes to his. "You're not keeping me from speakin' my piece and you better damn well listen."

Nathan started forward, but stopped abruptly as Josiah called out to him. "Nathan, leave it be fer now." Josiah nodded his head to Nathan with eyes showing a faith in Chris. Nathan nodded at Josiah, trusting him to be right and sat down, still close by, to guard Vin.

Chris' green eyes flashed with anger, hurt and fear as he looked into the beaten, blue eyes of the tracker. Please, don't let me hurt this man. Let me do the right thing by him. Chris shot down his fears, knowing it was weakness and it wouldn't help Vin. He gripped the tracker's face tighter as he spoke. "Open them eyes and look at me or am I right, your too much of a damn coward!" Chris forced Vin to look at him.

Vin turned his head towards Chris, his eyes no longer empty, but now filled with a hurt that nearly broke Chris. He had to look away and reach inside to find the strength to continue putting this man through hell. Chris took a deep breath and continued the onslaught of words.

"You're a selfish bastard, Tanner. I never thought I'd be saying those words t' ya." Chris paused waiting for a reaction from the tracker. Nothing. But those eyes, he's hearing. "We came all this way with you to help ya find your father and now you're turning your back to us. Leaving us here and you're not even trying t' fight t' help us get home."

Vin blinked at that and Chris released his grip on the tracker's face, reassured that he was finally getting through to him. "You're a son of bitch causing that man pain claiming to be his son. He's dying Vin and all you're doin' is thinkin' of yourself. That's not right and you know it."

The truth in Chris' words hit Vin hard and he reached for Chris' hand and held it tightly. Remorse filled him and he whispered painfully. "Sorry, Chris." Chris held on tight to Vin's hand and nearly wept. It had been a wearisome ordeal and he was spent. Vin shuddered falling forward into Chris' chest and Chris reached around holding the tracker to him and with eyes closed, whispered a soft thank you.

Nathan walked over to Chris, gently releasing Vin from Chris' hold and laid him down, adjusting blankets, covering him protectively from the ills of the world. Chris stood up shakily, needing to get air. Nathan looked up at Chris concerned by the pallor of the gunslinger. "Are y' all right, Chris?"

Chris glanced down at the tracker who was sleeping now, fatigued from the hardships of the day and Chris brought his eyes back to Nathan. "I am now, Nathan." He turned and walked away, knowing that Vin would still be alive, come morning.

The Apaches were lurking in the surrounding hills, watching as the men slowly made their way along the Trace. Vin held tight to the pommel as Chris lead Peso by the reins. He was still ailing, but Vin convinced Chris that he needed to find his father to make amends and then he would rest. He pondered on Black Bear's anguish over leaving him and it brought Vin distress. Chris' words were a truth that Vin could not deny. The aim of his journey was to help his father to find his peace in dying and Vin had only brought him heartache.

Vin gave his word to Chris that he would not finish the journey to the Canadian. He would abide by Black Bear's wishes, allowing Quanah to bring his father home. Tascosa was situated on the Canadian River, and Chris was not in the mind to let Vin chance riding into a lynching party. His worries abated when Vin bowed to his request.

J.D. scouted ahead trying to track Quanah and the soldiers, even though Vin disapproved of him going alone. J.D. was eager to show the men all the tracking skills he had learned from Vin. He had been gone for more than hour and Vin was becoming uneasy. This was still dangerous country and he worried for J.D. who was not schooled in the ways of the People to protect himself from his enemies.

Chris turned to Vin and saw that he was slouched over with his head hanging low, his chin resting on his chest. He was sodden with sweat and shivering, violently. Chris reined in his black and brought Peso alongside him.

"Hey, Vin. You doing okay, pard?" Chris put his hand on Vin's forehead that was fiery hot. He yelled out to Nathan who was riding behind Josiah. "He's burning up!"

Nathan raced over to Chris and Vin with recrimination in his eyes, but did not speak. He placed his hand on Vin's forehead and swore softly. "He shouldn't be ridin', Chris. Ya already know that."

Vin heard voices around him and he slowly determined that Peso was no longer moving. Don't stop! He forced himself to lift his head and open his eyes. Vin made out the faces of Chris and Nathan. "Got t' find J.D." Vin tried to grab the reins from Chris, but Chris held them firmly in his grasp. "Chris, he cain't be out there by himself. It ain't safe." Talking was wearing him out and worrying about J.D. was taking a toll on him.

Vin pushed himself to sit up tall and looked Chris in the eye. "There's Apaches out there and J.D.'s alone."

"Vin, we ain't seen any Apaches fer days now. Ya said yerself the Lipans and Kickapoos were hiding out in the mountains in Mexico. Cain't be many left to fight and there's b'n too many soldiers around fer them to come out of hidin'." Nathan tried to reassure the tracker that J.D. was fine.

"They're 'round, Nathan 'n there's 'nough of 'em t' make trouble fer us. And they know the land." Vin shuddered as a chill wracked his body. "I'd feel a hell of a lot better if J.D. was t' come back now." Vin glanced at Chris, his eyes filled with a worry that made Chris sit up tall with trepidation. "Chris, we got t' find him."

"Ya cain't be ridin' hard, Vin. Ya c'n barely hold on as it is, and I don't want ya fallin' out of the saddle." Nathan was frightened for the sharpshooter. The fever was back and the leg wound didn't seem to want to heal. Nathan knew if Vin was at the clinic, he'd be resting now and healing up, quickly. The wound in his side was slightly inflamed. The tracker was weak and Nathan had seen men die from wounds less serious.

"You think J.D.'s in some sort of trouble, Vin?" Chris was ready to ride not liking the idea that J.D. could be in peril at the hands of the Apaches. Stories of victims being burned alive or tied by lariats behind ponies and dragged to their death disturbed Chris. If the Apaches chose to allow their captives to live, their lives would be spent in bondage as slaves with little hope of escape. Chris saw the worry in Vin's eyes and nodded his head. "Let's go."

Vin took the reins from Chris and spurred Peso forward into a gallop. Nathan followed behind Vin, turning to Chris who came up alongside Nathan. "He ain't goin' t' make it, Chris."

Chris studied Nathan, rankled by his ominous words. "What's that suppose t' mean, Nathan?"

"I'm jes' sayin' that he's too weak from fever. He ain't goin' t' be able to keep travelin' at this pace. He's ready t' fall out of the saddle. That's all I'm sayin'. Fer now." Nathan words were filled with foreboding and caused Chris to bristle at his statement.

"There's no time for this, Nathan." Chris looked at Nathan with annoyance. "Vin's not goin' t' stop until he can't go on any further. If he's worried, then we better get movin' because that means there's trouble."

Josiah had been quiet listening to their discourse, but now was not the time for talking. They needed to find J.D. , stick together and watch each others' backs. "Come on Nathan, we'll keep an eye on Vin, but we've got t' make sure J.D. is all right." Vin was now getting ahead of the men and they spurred their horses on to catch up to the tracker.

The rocky slopes enclosed them and Vin looked around with a growing apprehension, his hair raising on the back of his neck. He felt them, but couldn't see them. They drifted across rock like shards of earthen ghosts, elusive and dangerous. Chris watched Vin tense as he studied the rocky slopes closing around them, leaving the men vulnerable to the enemy that sheltered above in the stony crevices, and not until all the men rode through unharmed, did Vin rest himself into his saddle.

"They're watchin' us." Vin's senses were heightened, mindful of the dangers around them. He had caught a movement, a slight shift in shadows that floated across the stony terrain above them. "We're goin' t' have comp'ny real soon."

Chris tensed at that, taking his Colt from the holster, and looked around keen-eyed and agitated. He hated feeling corralled and, damn well, didn't like being pushed. They were headed into an ambush with Apaches ready to lay claim to them like turkey vultures waiting on death.

Nathan and Josiah had there carbines at the ready and warily eyed the surrounding hills. The terrain was gradually changing from stony slopes of mountain country to grasses. Soon they would be in open land and would be able to scout out a better position to confront their pursuers.

Vin was the first to make out a hill across the grasses, shouting for the men to put spur to leather, and turned, watching as a wave of Apaches surged forward towards them on ponies with harrowing shrieks, filling the air. Vin counted fifteen, which was fifteen too many as far as he figured.

He prompted Peso to hightail it after the men and hit the slope at full speed as the blaze-faced gelding laid hold to the earth with nimble legs and steady footing. A worthy horse that had saved Vin's hide too many times to count.

Vin jumped from Peso and grabbed his Winchester from the scabbard, resting himself down, taking aim at the fierce and menacing warriors before them. Chris, Nathan and Josiah had taken position, protectively laying flat in the grasses.

Their aims were flawless, taking down five Apaches with that many bullets expended. Vin had sighted and taken down three more lessening the threat and diminishing the Apaches. The wounded took to their horses and the rest gathered the dead and turned back to the mountains.

Vin's body convulsed from the effort that he had mustered out and he wrapped his arms around himself to try to control the tremors. Nathan was at his side, hobbling him with a blanket and he pushed him away angry at being held down.

"Leave me be, Nathan. I cain't breathe with you all over me with that damn blanket." Vin was trying to roll his body away from Nathan, but a large mass of man grabbed hold of him and stopped him, dead.

"Come on now, Brother Vin. Nathan's only tryin' t' help ya." Josiah spoke calmly trying to keep the tracker from dislodging the already loosened stitches in his thigh and side.

"Let me up!" Vin was vexed and the men thought he was delirious from fever. Josiah held him down, exerting more power as the sinewy tracker struggled. "We got t' watch our backs. They'll be slithering up on us, if'n we don't keep an eye t' 'em."

Chris knelt beside Josiah. "Let him go, Josiah." Josiah released Vin quickly at Chris' words. Vin dashed past the men with his Winchester and turned towards them with a shout. "Git down."

The men braced themselves for battle again, but they had reacted too late and several Apaches were on them before they could discharge their guns. Vin had gotten off a couple of shots, taking down two warriors, but the Apaches overpowered him in his weakness. He went down hard as two warriors kicked him, brutally. The warriors dragged him by his hair over to the three men and threw him down at their feet. Vin lay motionless and Nathan cursed at the sight of fresh blood on the tracker's leg and side.

A warrior walked forward and kicked Vin in the side, causing the tracker to gasp for air and wrap his arms protectively around himself. Chris stepped forward enraged, but was held back by two warriors clutching his arms in a bone crushing grip. The leader stood with unmistakable hostility, facing Chris and eyeing Josiah and Nathan with disdain.

The warrior raised his hands up and began to sign. Josiah watched the warrior's hands as he rapidly spoke with the silent language. The warrior rubbed his right fingers back and forth over the top of his left hand several times and then rubbed his right index finger over the left, starting at the bottom of the finger to the wrist, twice. Josiah quietly told the men the meaning of the sign. "Apache."

The warrior grasped his hands to indicate *friend* and took his right hand palm down and turned it up signing *No*. Josiah released a loud breath and looked at the men. "He says were are an enemy to the Apaches, which ain't a good thing t' be at this particular time."

Chris snorted at Josiah's words and smiled defiantly at the Apache. The Apache glared at the man in black and vengefully kicked the supine man on the ground. Chris let out a guttural sound of rage and fought at the hands holding him.

Nathan talked to Chris frantically, trying to calm him. "Don't react t' him Chris. He'll jes' keep at Vin, if'n he sees it's gettin' t' ya."

Chris glowered at Nathan, knowing he was right and knowing his anger was causing Vin pain. He needed to control himself and he reined in his fury for the sake of Vin and the men.

The warrior's hands moved flowingly as he brought his slightly fisted right hand in front of his right shoulder and moved it across his chest and down and thrust it back up to the right. He again made the sign for Apache.

The warrior pointed towards Vin and then held his left hand horizontal bringing his right hand with pointed index finger towards the left and moving down and outwards.

Josiah hesitated before speaking and Chris glared at him. "What?" Josiah looked down at Vin and cursed loudly.

Chris tried to wrench free, inciting the warrior to kick Vin again. "Josiah, what did he say?"

"Chris, calm down! Yer not doin' Vin any good and when I tell you this you best stay real quiet. Don't react at all." Josiah gave Chris a look of warning and Chris nodded. "He said, Vin dies."

"You tell that Apache I'll kill him before he lays a hand on Vin." Chris was irate and he wanted to strangle the life out of the Indian. "Tell him, Josiah!!"

Josiah hung his head and spoke defeated. "I won't do that Chris. It will only git Vin a world of pain, if I do."

Chris dropped his head resigned, but still desperately searching for a means to escape and to keep Vin and the men from harm.

There was bedlam among the Lipans as a young warrior scout shouted excitedly to the leader, who stood transfixed with eyes searching the tall grasses. The scout's words spoke with an urgency that was discernible to Chris and the boys as they watched the Apaches move frenetically among themselves, each scanning the outskirts with keen eyes. One pointed towards a distant rise and spoke in dialect. Chris listened and heard fear.

Chris looked at Josiah and Nathan, silently telling them to be mindful that something was about to play out and to be ready for it. He worked fiercely at the deerskin cording that had been tightly bound around his wrists and ankles. Vin lay unconscious with arms and legs bound up tight behind his back. They had handled the tracker roughly, and Nathan swore helplessly, knowing the stitches had broken open as he watched the bloodstains cover Vin's pants' leg and shirt.

The head warrior walked over to Chris and signed hurriedly, pointing at the men. With his right hand, index finger pointed up, he moved it in a zigzag motion and then brought his index finger up to his face, moving it out forward and back in one motion.

Chris looked at Josiah questioningly, as Josiah watched the warrior sign. Chris watched as the uneasiness lifted from Josiah, while a hint of a smile caught the corners of his mouth.

"We *live* today." As Josiah spoke, the warriors mounted and rode off, leaving the men bewildered, but relieved.

"What was that all about?" Chris was confused, but did not waste time pondering the matter as he rolled his body over towards the sharpshooter.

Nathan and Josiah struggled with their bindings and Josiah let out a yell of triumph as he felt the cording release with his last effort. He quickly untied his legs and then helped Nathan release the intricate knots. Josiah raced over to Chris and worked the knots hastily, freeing Chris from his bonds.

Nathan looked down at the gunslinger's wrists, noticing the bloodied raw skin. He would need to tend to them later. Nathan knelt beside Vin, his hands moving expertly around the chest and back of the pale and silent man. He looked around frustrated, not seeing their horses. "I ain't got nothin' to help this man."

Nathan stood up angrily and stared off into the distance, searching for their mounts that had been frightened off in the skirmish by the Apaches. "Dammit!!"

As Nathan angrily glared at the surrounding grasses, a shadow caught his eye and then more shadows as they shifted across the plains. Nathan squinted and the shadows became a solid expanse of black that quickly became men. Nathan ran towards the edge of the hill and strained his eyes. "Look!" He pointed towards the men who were now distinguishable to him.

Josiah thumped his ample hand down on Nathan's shoulder. "Praise the Lord, Brother Nathan. The cavalry's coming!"

Nathan and Josiah both laughed loudly and shouted out together. "J.D.!!" The young man riding side by side with the fierce Comanche war chief was a remarkable sight. It was not long before, Quanah, J.D. and four soldiers appeared over the rise and Josiah and Nathan greeted them with wide grins and handshakes.

"I believe we now know what prompted their hasty departure." Josiah turned to Chris and grinned widely. Chris nodded to Josiah, grateful that J.D. was safe, as well as the men. Chris raised Vin's head up onto his lap and relaxed at the knowing that help was close to hand.

"Nearly scared me to death, when I saw all your horses ridin' towards us." J.D. shivered at the memory of the sight. "Quanah had tracked some Lipan and Kickapoo Apaches moving in your direction. I guess we scared them off."

Quanah warily viewed the distant mountains and turned to J.D. and Josiah. He raised his right hand and moved it down and forward. Josiah nodded his head observing the disquiet in the war chief. J.D. lifted his chin to Josiah, silently asking what was signed.

"We should go." Josiah walked over to Chris and Nathan. Nathan retrieved his bag and began stitching and dressing the sharpshooter's wounds. He applied the carbolic liberally, shaking his head at the sight of the angry inflamed leg wound.

"How is he, Nathan?" Chris kept his eyes on Vin, holding a hand to the tracker's fevered brow. He shook his head worriedly, concerned that Vin would not overcome his afflictions.

"Got kicked 'nough to cause him some bad bruisin', but ain't nothin' broke or injured inside hisself. Be damn sore, though. Got t' keep the wounds clean so they don't fester." Nathan buttoned Vin's shirt and looked intently at Chris. "He needs t' rest, but I'd jes' as soon work on gittin' him home as quick as we can."

Chris nodded and turned his eyes to Josiah who stood over them. "Chris, Quanah wants to go and I think we should do just that, not knowing what them Apaches are up ta."

"Can he be moved, Nathan?" Chris studied the face of the tracker. He looked frail and vulnerable.

"Do we got a choice?" Nathan asked irritated, knowing that the tracker had to be moved whether he should be or not.

"No, we don't, Brother Nathan." Josiah helped lift the tracker up and then handed him to Quanah and Chris while he mounted. Josiah reached down and grasped the tracker under his arms, lifting the lean man easily onto his saddle. "Okay, Chris I got him."

Vin rested listlessly against Josiah as the other men mounted their horses. J.D. rode to Chris' side as they both looked at the ashen countenance of the sharpshooter. The fine sculpted angles of the tracker's face held the shadows of sickness. The prominent dark circles under his eyes and gaunt appearance frightened Chris. J.D. bit his lip, holding back words of alarm, knowing Chris would not want to hear them.

Instead, J.D. handed his spare Colt to the gunslinger, mindful that some of their weapons had been taken by the Apaches. Chris looked down at the revolver and nodded his thanks to J.D., grateful for the comfort the Colt offered at his side.

The Apaches had taken Josiah and Nathan's carbines along with Vin's, but thankfully left his Mare's leg. They had taken Chris' Colt, but his Winchester still remained, having been sheathed on his black. Chris, still furious at the attack on Vin and being stripped of their weapons, spurred his black into a gallop and yelled for the men to follow. It was time to get Vin and the men home.

Vin struggled to open his eyes. Where am I? Can't move! Where's Chris? Larabee, where are ya? Nathan, Josiah, where are ya? Got t' keep them Apaches away from the boys. My guns . . . they got my guns!!

Vin panicked as he felt a heavy weight on him. Can't move. He was mired in a hellish nightmare and then he was fighting hard, released, floating away not finding solid footing. Falling . . . falling . . . into a fire. Fire . . . into Hell! His leg was all he could feel and damn, it hurt. Cut it off, hurts! Too hot, burning. Burning me alive . . . they're burning me alive! Taking too long to die, won't stop burning. Cut the thing off . . . cut it off!

"Chris help me hold him down." Nathan was distressed at the heat coming from the tracker's body. He had stripped him down and bathed him with as much water as they could spare.

"Come on, Vin. Calm down!!" Chris held Vin's shoulders in a tight grip his body weight resting on top of the sharpshooter. "Vin, do ya hear me?"

"Larabee . . .watch out!!" Vin tried to push against Chris. The gunslinger was able to keep him down, even though Vin's strength was driven by a fevered delirium. "Chris . . . Chris where the hell are ya?"

"I'm right here, Vin." Chris grabbed at Vin's hand, trying to reach the tracker with his touch. "I'm right here, we're safe. Ya hear me, Vin. It's all right now." Chris bent over the restless man. "J.D. and Quanah scared off the Apaches. Ya hear me, they're long gone."

Vin forced his eyes open, knowing Chris was near. He needed to talk to him, make sure that the men were all right. "J.D.'s . . . okay? Vin tried to focus his eyes on Chris, but he was so weak and weary that his eyelids had a notion all their own. "You okay, Chris . . . and the . . . boys?"

"Yeah, Vin. We're fine." Chris gripped Vin's hand tightly. The gunslinger was worn out and overwrought. His worry was closing in on him. "Vin, you've got t' whip this fever now. I want you t' fight this harder than you ever fought anythin' before in your life. I know you fought against tougher things than this."

Chris put his hand on Vin's forehead and wiped at the strands of sweat laden hair that clung to the tracker's brow. "Nathan's worryin' me and you better prove him wrong. You hear me Tanner. You prove him wrong."

Chris' emotions were raw and exposed. He hadn't let himself feel this way not since . . . not since . . . hell, not since his family. Dammit Vin, dammit! "I need ya t' show me what it means t' be a Tanner. That name means so much t' you, well you show me what a Tanner is made of, you hear me, Vin? Proof t' me your worthy of that name." Chris put his head down, still gripping tightly to Vin's hand. " All I'm askin' you t' do is t'fight. All I'm askin' you t' do is t' live! Dammit Vin, live!!"

Chris lowered his head, his chin resting on his chest. He was bone-tired and broken down. It was hell caring about people. He was sick from it, wanted to spew out all the anxiety and pain and damn heartache that sat on him. Stifling, suffocating him. He wanted to run away from it all. He needed to put it back, way down inside him. Didn't want to feel anything he couldn't control. Couldn't walk away from this man that didn't have nothing or nobody. Couldn't walk away from this man that didn't have a lick of sense to walk away from a fight. Wasn't afraid of dying, well dammit, he's not dying on him now. Not now. Not until he says so. Not until he tells him he can.

Chris kept his head down and worked on breathing, trying to hold back the need to be sick. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be anywhere else, but here. He needed to be back in Four Corners sitting in the saloon with a whiskey and the boys and Tanner. Wanted it, needed it and dammit he would get what he wanted, he would get what he needed this time.

A squeeze . . . he felt something. Again . . . stronger this time. Chris raised his head to blue eyes dulled from fever and fatigue. A raspy whisper labored to reach him. "I'll . . . fight . . . promise." Chris patted the tracker's arm with renewed hope. "I'm holdin' you to that, Tanner." Chris settled himself back against his saddle and with those few words was able to sleep.

Vin had struggled for two days, fighting against the fever. Chris and the men were almost beaten from the worry and Nathan did not offer them much hope. Chris talked to Vin for hours appealing to him to fight. At times, his impatience and anger got the better of him and he lashed out at Vin, furiously. The anger seemed to bring the tracker closer to awakening and it brought a smile to Chris, knowing that he had rankled the man with his words. Vin was still fighting.

Quanah and Black Bear had remained with the men while an impatient Lieutenant and the renegades went on to Fort Sill with several of the buffalo soldiers. Lieutenant Cooper ordered two of the soldiers to remain with Quanah, not trusting the Comanche to return to the reservation. Quanah had looked at the Lieutenant with scorn, angry at being cowed by an unworthy and cowardly long-knife.

Quanah had seen too many great chiefs lose honor at the hands of the enemy. Big Tree and White Bear had been captured and imprisoned by the long-knives. Only, Sitting Bear chose to fight against them and died with honor no longer fettered by the Tahbay-boh. Quanah would tolerate the disgrace being mindful of the needs of his People. He would choose a well considered path to preserve the Comanche. Though their lives will never be as it had been, the People would live and rise again together.

Quanah turned to watch Black Bear as he sat by Tanner. It had been hard on the elders, the children and the women. The grasses were stained with the blood of the People. The land where the children played now held the scattered bones of the silenced buffalo. It was a time of the killing of a thousand horses.

The attack at Palo Duro Canyon had been the end for the Kwahadi, though Quanah and the People still chose to remain in freedom, never cowing to the Tahbay-boh. But, the will to live as they always had was not enough and Quanah and the Kwahadi were subdued and defeated. He would not allow Black Bear to be defeated. The old warrior would die free with the winds and grasses. This was Quanah's wish for Black Bear. This was Quanah's hope for the People.

Quanah stood by Black Bear as the old warrior talked to his son, pleading with Tanner to open his eyes. Nathan looked sadly at the old man as he redressed Vin's leg and side wounds.

The liberal douses of carbolic, a poultice of yarrow leaves and the needed rest seemed to be helping the tracker. The wounds were not as inflamed and the fever seemed to be abating. Nathan felt a wave of optimism serge up in him. Maybe . . . God willing . . . just maybe, he might be all right. Nathan walked to the fire pouring himself a cup of coffee as he joined the men who sat together in vigil while Black Bear called upon the spirits to save his son.

Vin woke to the darkness of night and the comforting touch of the hand of his father entwined with his own. He was alive. He recalled a promise that he had given. He had fought and he had won. Vin allowed himself to surrender to sleep, knowing he had kept his word.

"Vin, can you hear me?" Chris hovered over the tracker studying him. Was he imagining things? Did Vin's eyes open or was the night's shadows playing tricks on him? "Vin, Tanner, can ya hear me? Chris persisted with a quiet intensity.

He placed his hand on the sharpshooter's forehead. It was cooler, a hell of a lot cooler. Chris squeezed Vin's shoulder and called out to him softly, not wanting to wake the other men. "Vin, I'm talkin' t' ya. Can ya hear me?"

Vin stirred and turned his head towards a voice that he recognized. Again, the voice called out to him. He fought the heaviness that held his eyes closed and the calming mist that clouded his mind. Chris. It was Chris calling to him. The voice was clearer as he broke through the haze and Vin opened his eyes to see a black *shade* hovering over him. Damn! The image gave him a start. "This ain't Kansas!" Vin whispered to himself trying to get a hold of his uneasiness as he closed his eyes at the sight before him.

Vin opened his eyes again, holding his breath and then released it, relieved that the black apparition became the face of the gunslinger. Vin let out a quiet snort over his fright at mistaking Chris for some menacing spirit. He chuffed at the notion. Not too far from the truth!

"What's so funny, Tanner?" Chris watched the face of the tracker change from alarm to a lopsided grin. Chris smirked down at him, despite his concerns over the sharpshooter's lucidity.

"Chris?" Vin still was a mite logy as he stared into Chris' grinning face. "Thought you were the devil himself comin' t' git me." A wry smile played across the tracker's features. "I was thinkin' that I weren't too far off the mark. "Chris let out a soft chuckle. "Devil don't come close t' the scary son of a bitch I can be."

"Ain't that the God's honest truth." Vin smiled at the gunslinger and Chris was elated to see a light in the blue eyes that had not been there in days.

Vin stared up into Chris' eyes, trying to remain focused as the weariness pulled on him to sleep. "I kept my word."

Chris squeezed Vin's shoulder. "Yeah, you did." Chris touched Vin's brow again, just to reassure himself that the worse was behind them. "I knew you would."

Vin sighed deeply and turned to look at Black Bear, sleeping beside him. "At least I kept one promise."

Chris heard the pain and defeat in the tracker's words and he became annoyed. "Tanner, we talked about this. You're not doin' yourself any good or Black Bear, thinkin' like that. You did your best. That's all a father can ask of his son."

"Ain't done yet, Chris. Needs t' be finished." Vin closed his eyes, not wanting to look into the gunslinger's angry stare.

"It'll be finished 'n Quanah 'n Black Bear will finish it together." Chris' anger receding as he pondered on Quanah for a moment before he continued. "Vin, I think Quanah 'n Black Bear need t' see this through to the end, more than you need ta." Chris wasn't sure where that notion had come from, but it felt right. "You know what I mean, Vin?"

Vin knew it was more than Black Bear's journey that was coming to pass and as he accepted this in his heart as the truth of things, a peace came to him. He stared up at Chris for a time and nodded his head. "I reckon, Chris."

"Get some rest, Vin." Chris patted the tracker's arm. "Sun'll be up soon. Things'll get worked out come mornin'."

Black Bear watched his son and was grateful to see that the fever was no longer raging through him. Tanner rested easier and Black Bear would soon be able to continue his journey. He would leave Tanner with a lighter heart this time. It had been wrong of him to leave his son with such anguish. Today they would reach an understanding and leave each other in peace.

"Tua?" Black Bear spoke in the tongue of the People and placed his hand on Vin's shoulder. "You came to me a tuinapi, little boy, and now you are a tenapi, man." Black Bear continued, placing his hand on Vin's forehead. "I have kept you in my heart. We will be naru?anikwi, father and son, even after the sun rises no longer."

Vin turned his eyes to his father and he gripped Black Bear's hand. "I am sorry, Ahpi. Nawitsaki inni nirisunai." *Forgive me* Vin bowed his head down ashamed.

"There is nothing to forgive, Netua." Black Bear placed his hand gently, under Vin's chin raising his head. "It was not time for me to leave you. I chose only one path, not seeing other paths that must be walked before my final rest. In my hurry I have harmed my son."

"Tocuse, Ahpi." Vin's eyes still shadowed, but clearer looked at his father with remorse. "I sought only one path with no thought to my father's true course."

"Our hearts tried to guide us, but our paths were already chosen. Your path leads you home." Black Bear saw uncertainty in his son's eyes. The old warrior smiled, knowing the true course of Tanner's path.

"Our intent was given only with love. This is something that needs no forgiveness." Black Bear pulled Vin close and then released him, gently resting Vin back against his saddle.

"You need rest and I must go now." Black Bear was quiet for a moment watching his son's face. " We cannot overlook the path that guides Quanah. Do you understand this now, Netua?"

"Now I will walk in peace." Black Bear looked towards Quanah who stood waiting with the soldiers.

The old warrior clasped Vin's arm. "Pi?esi urii. *They are ready* " Do not be tanasuat, saddened."

Black Bear stood and looked down at his son for a few moments. Their eyes locked and Vin nodded to his father in farewell. The old warrior turned walking away from his son.

Black Bear mounted his paint and Vin watched as he rode off and continued to watch until all he saw were dust plumes rising in the wind. He closed his eyes to a time that would never be his again.

Josiah watched Vin with unease, hoping that Vin and Black Bear's parting was less troubled. Josiah knew that Vin was a man of righteousness and would not rest until his word was kept. A smile came to Josiah, thinking of Vin's tenacious spirit as he tried to clear Josiah's name, though he did nothing to help himself and gave Vin only angry words for his efforts. Vin believed in Josiah and that was a true blessing.

Josiah sat, unceremoniously, down beside Vin and waited until the sharpshooter opened his eyes. "Glad to see you lookin' better, Brother Vin. It has been a long trail."

Josiah laughed and patted Vin's shoulder. "Ain't nothin' we couldn't handle with the good Lord's help." Vin nodded his head with a wistful smile on his face.

Josiah gazed off into the distance and pondered on his words before continuing to speak. Vin looked up towards the preacher sensing he had more to say to him. Vin waited, knowing Josiah was not too often at a loss for words.

"Was the parting easier this time, Vin?" Josiah wanted to offer counsel if the tracker was agreeable to it.

Vin looked at Josiah and wordlessly nodded his head, yes. There had been too much talk already for this man of few words. Josiah smiled, knowing that Vin would palaver with him, if he needed to and he did not press.

Josiah stood looking down at the tracker, thankful that Vin's heart was no longer sorrowed. As he turned to leave, words came to him, but he was uncertain of their worth. Something impelled Josiah to speak, and he began to recite in a strong, clear voice. "A man's heart plans his way, But the Lord directs his steps.*"

Vin snapped his head up to Josiah, startled by words all too familiar and then settled into the comfort of them. He nodded to Josiah as he placed his hat over his eyes and rested himself against his saddle.

The trail back had been difficult for Vin, though his fever had abated and his wounds were slowly healing. He was still very weak, but continued carrying the burden of hunting and scouting. Nathan was distraught, but could not hold the tracker back. Vin was driving himself hard to get the men home. It had taken two arduous weeks for them to reach Four Corners. They were bone-weary and dust-coated, but gladdened at the sight of the small town.

Vin eyed the dusty road and the townsfolk that milled around on the boardwalks and his heart lifted at the sight. A smile came to him as he observed Mary, walking with a quickened pace down the boardwalk towards the men. Her smile shown brilliant on her porcelain features as her crystalline blue eyes searched out for one face.

Vin saw relief come to her as she noted that the gunslinger was safe and unharmed from their journey. Mary continued to glance over the men and then their eyes met. Her intense stare almost caused Vin to stop stone-still in the road, but he took a breath and continued on as he gave her a reassuring smile and nod.

Chris saw concern grip Mary as she watched the sharpshooter head towards the livery. She averted her questioning eyes from Vin and looked at Chris. He nodded giving her a dispirited smile. She knew something was wrong, though outwardly there were only signs of weariness. No, Vin was ill. Mary saw it in the way he rode, all tense and tight trying to hang on and not show his debility. She saw it in the dim blue eyes that usually shown with a lively light filled with a hint of mischief and wry humor. Mary whispered a prayer as she walked quickly towards the livery.

She hung by the door for a time, waiting until the men had removed their saddlebags and allowed the hostler to care for their mounts which was a true sign of the men's fatigue. Ezra and Buck had reached the livery before her, and Buck solicitously tended to J.D., his affection for the young man apparent. Ezra looked to the tracker, observing that he had not yet dismounted from Peso, and graciously offered a hand to the weary man.

A hint of a smile crossed Vin's lips as he went to dismount, but found himself falling and braced himself for the impact of earth that he knew would be coming. Instead, he felt strong, supportive hands offering protection and he let himself slacken into them. The men were home and now he could rest.

Nathan ran over to Ezra who sheltered Vin in his arms. The gambler looked up to Nathan distressed by the enfeebled state of the sharpshooter. "Mr. Jackson, it seems that Mr. Tanner is in dire need of your assistance." Ezra was shaken by the tracker's infirmity.

Nathan placed his hand on Vin's forehead and was relieved to find no fever. He turned his eyes to Chris, who hovered above the men. "He's spent, Chris. Pushin' hisself when he was sick. He needs t' sleep fer a week straight."

"You sayin' he'll be fine with a little rest?" Chris asked with hope recessed in his eyes.

"Sleep will help." Nathan's steady gaze met Chris' concerned eyes. "He's b'n fightin' all this time. He's jes' plum wore out."

Chris bent down extending his hands to help Ezra and Nathan lift up the lean sharpshooter. Ezra grimaced as his hands grasped the spare frame of the tracker.

"The culinary fare on the trail must not have met our superlative sharpshooter's liking. You no doubt must be concerned with the meagerness of Mr. Tanner's appearance. I can only imagine that irreparable harm will come to him, if he continues to lack sustenance."

"If'n ya mean he needs t' eat, Ezra, yer right, but fer now let's jes' git him t' the clinic." Nathan continued to lift Vin with the help of Ezra and Chris while the other men looked on, anxiously.

Mary stepped out of the shadows and quietly walked beside Chris as she peered at Vin's pallid features. She whispered aloud, "Dear Lord, what happened?"

Chris felt her closeness and he released the tracker into Nathan and Ezra's secure hold and paused his steps turning towards her. He observed the distress in her eyes and the questions that needed to be answered.

Mary looked at Chris understanding that he was far too weary to quiet her concerns. She held his hand and gave him a compassionate smile, knowing that Chris needed to be with Vin. "Go, we'll talk later." He looked into her eyes with tenderness and with a slight gentle pressure of fingers to her hand, he quickly turned and made his way up to Nathan's clinic.

Mary watched as he climbed the stairs with lengthy impatient steps filled with edginess and worry. She smoothed her hands distractedly through her hair and then regaining her wit, dashed to get hot food prepared and to ready the bathhouse with steaming tubs of soothing water for the wearied men.

She walked hastily towards Gloria Potter's store, hoping that Gloria would lend a hand tending to the regulators. Mary knew Gloria cared a great deal for the men and had been grateful to them for their courage, bringing her husband's killer to justice. They had stood up against a wealthy and powerful rancher with little concern for themselves and for that she was beholden to them.

Mary entered the store with a flurry of petticoats and blue chambray as wisps of white-blond hair softly framed her face. Gloria put aside her ledgers as Mary excitedly ran through the door. "What is it, Mary?" Gloria found herself unnerved easily now, since her husband's passing. Tragedy was no longer a stranger to her.

"The men are back, Gloria." Mary breathed deeply trying to calm herself. "I'll need your help in getting some hot food for them. They're exhausted from the trip. They need some good home cooking, a hot bath and a comfortable bed."

Gloria came around from the counter and smiled at Mary. "I've got plenty of food and some apple and peach cobblers that Vin loves so much."

Mary's eyes filled at the thought of the sharpshooter. "Gloria, Vin's ill. I'm not sure what happened. They brought him to the clinic. Nathan seems to feel with some rest that he'll be fine." Mary's head dropped remembering the pallor of Vin's face. "He looks so exhausted and pale . . ."

"Now, you stop your worrying. That boy will be just fine. With a little love and care, we'll have him back on his feet in no time." Gloria's full face beamed with a self-assured smile and Mary gave her a hug for her cheerful words. They hurried about with the readying of food and baths for the men.

Mary found the boys outside the clinic waiting on word about Vin. She quickly took the steps up to them, knowing that she would not allow the men to put off a hot bath and needed food. A rustling of delicate fabrics with a hint of sweet rose wafting in the breezes, gave notice to the men that Mary was approaching.

As she reached the landing, Mary determinedly focused unwavering blue eyes at J.D. and Josiah. Few words were needed from Mary to get the men to comply. It was not the need for food that made them consent, they surely could endure more hardships, but rather their desire to please Mary.

Josiah and J.D. headed off to the baths with a promise that word on Vin would be forthcoming to them. Buck and Ezra waited outside the clinic patiently, an all too familiar past time for them since the men's leaving a month ago. Now the waiting was almost finished and they could withstand a bit more, knowing the men were home and safe.

Mary entered the clinic hesitantly, her line of sight taking in the tousled light brown hair of the tracker as it scattered over the white ripples of pillow and haphazardly clung to the frail boyish face. Her heart skipped at the sight of innocence that embraced him in rest. Mary knew that this purity of heart was the true spirit of the man and she unthinkingly knelt by the bed and gently placed her hand on his brow, kissing his whiskered cheek with a deep caring.

Chris looked on touched by the affection she offered Vin, but knew the tracker would rather face death than sentiment. Mary turned to Chris and Nathan with a silent worry and an unspoken question. Nathan read her concerns and quietly turned brown eyes to the still form of the sharpshooter.

"He'll be fine, Mary." Nathan walked towards the potbelly stove and retrieved a tin cup of broth for the tracker. "Jes' needs t' git some proper food 'n rest."

"Well, Gloria and I will see to that and I'm sure Miss Nettie will want a hand in his mending." Mary turned to Chris, determined to make sure he was bathed and fed.

"I have a nice hot bath waiting for you, Chris, and Gloria is working on dinner for you and the men." Mary's eyes met Chris' and she saw that he was about to protest, but then an easiness came to the gunslinger and he nodded his head in agreement.

Mary's smile radiated from her and she lightly touched his arm, grateful that there would be no arguments. "You go too, Nathan. Everything is prepared and you're exhausted." Mary walked over to the men and gently shoved them towards the door. "I'll stay with Vin. If he wakes, I'll give him the broth." Mary's blue eyes flashed when she saw their steps hesitate. "Go, now. We'll be fine."

Nathan bowed his head with gratitude as Chris opened the door to the beginnings of dusk. Both men called out, "Thank you, Mary." As they slowly started down the steps, they reveled in the sight of the dusty town and felt a calm pass over them. They were home.

"Come on Tanner, get your sorry hide up 'n out of this clinic." Chris shouted loudly into the slumbering tracker's ear. "It's been over a week now and Nathan wants his bed back."

Vin turned away from the light and the noise, irritated at being awakened so abruptly. He was feeling stronger and had meant to go to his wagon last night, but must have fallen asleep without warning at Nathan's.

"Nettie's waitin' on us." Chris grabbed the sharpshooter's arm and pulled him up into a seated position. Vin slowly brought his legs around and rested them on the floor as he stretched his arms up with an ample yawn. Chris smiled down at the tracker, happy that Vin had been able to sleep peacefully and deeply, knowing the men were watching his back while he mended.

"Right here, Vin. Now get them on." Chris threw them down near Vin's feet and bent to help out the sharpshooter. "Come on, give me your foot."

"Aw hell, Chris. I c'n do it m'self." Vin mumbled and reached down for his boots.

"Then get it done." Chris sat down on the bed waiting for Vin. "The boys have Peso readied 'n just need you to get yourself movin'. Chris slapped Vin's back lightly, but impatiently trying to hurry the tracker along.

Vin walked to the water basin, splashing the tepid water over his face and quickly dried up with a bandanna from his pocket. He finger combed his hair roughly and reached for his hat and Mare's Leg. "I'm set."

The men sat sedately looking up at Vin and Chris as they came out of the clinic. Buck slouched lower into the saddle and cocked his head up at them. " 'Bout time y'got yer scrawny hide outa bed, Tanner." Buck smirked. "Ya got a woman up there we don't know 'bout?"

Vin hid his face under his hat. That Buck could make him feel downright foolish. Chris sensed the tracker's embarrassment and turned his eyes to Buck silently telling him to ease up on Vin.

They headed for their horses and Vin rubbed Peso's haunches, affectionately. Giving a gentle pat to the gelding, Vin grabbed the reins and gingerly mounted. The men watched anxiously, hoping the tracker's leg would not cause him too much discomfort.

With a slight grimace, Vin put full weight on his left leg and swung up his right. Surprisingly, the pain had lessened and Vin smiled good-naturedly as he rested his weight onto the saddle. The men relaxed as Vin lifted his head up to them with a smile. "Let's git." Vin lightly spurred Peso forward and galloped quickly ahead of them.

Chris spotted Mary running towards him just as he was about to follow the men. He stopped his black and turned questioning eyes to her. "What's wrong, Mary?"

"Chris, I sent the telegraph off to Fort Sill a few days ago as you asked and I believe a reply might be coming in today." Mary looked thoughtfully up at the gunslinger. "I'll send Matthew out with it, if it gets here."

"All right, Mary. Appreciate it." Mary smiled a good-bye and Chris watched her as she lithely walked away towards the Clarion. His attention drifted to the boys who were lightheartedly trotting down the road, now at a distance and spurred his black into a gallop towards the men.

Nettie called the boys in for a meal that she had been preparing for days. The table overflowed with ham, turkey, summer vegetables of all kinds, gravy and biscuits and desserts of every variety from pies to cobblers. The men gathered around the table, jovially grabbing at the food, shoving and pushing with a rambunctious nature of young boys at play.

Nettie had wanted to gather the men for a celebration of their return. She was elated that Vin was mending. Her worry had finally receded when she saw Vin riding in on Peso at full gallop with a smile on his near flawless features.

He was a beautiful boy, no she recanted that, a handsome man and many young women in town took notice of him. Nettie hoped that one day, Vin would allow himself the pleasure of love and the security of having a family of his own. But that was here nor there to Nettie, he was *her* family and Nettie would make sure that Vin knew this everyday that she walked this earth.

The men brought their heaping plates of food, settling down at the table inside and on the porch. Nettie, Vin and Chris sat outside enjoying the steady breeze as it played across their faces, taking away the heat of the day. It was a pleasant gathering and Vin sat quietly watching Nettie and the men around him as they ate voraciously and joked between teeming bites of food.

Vin laughed softly to himself as he watched the easygoing manner of his friends. Life had changed a mite since he hooked up with these men, and it wasn't all bad. Damn! It was almost too good. Vin became somber as he felt disquiet pass over him, and then he recollected Josiah's words. Maybe, it would be all right this time. Maybe he could believe in this.

Nettie saw a shadow shroud Vin's face and then watched as it whispered fleetingly in the corners of his eyes, and stilled in the tightness of his mouth. The angles of his face changing with the ache within his heart, and then it was gone. She noticed that he ate sparingly, still not entirely well. She rose up from her chair with bones and muscles that seemed to protest more than they used to and reached down her hand to Vin.

Vin smiled up at her and nodded, handing his plate to Chris as he stood. Nettie placed her hand in Vin's as they walked passed the men and strolled contentedly towards the stream. Vin gently braced Nettie as she sank rigidly to the ground and he slowly sat cross-legged next to her, his leg still not strong enough to hold his weight for long periods of time. Nettie reached her hand over and held Vin's tightly for a moment.

"I worried on ya mightily." Nettie took a deep breath before she continued. "It does my heart good t' have ya home, safe."

"I'm sorry I got ya t' worryin' on me." Vin looked into Nettie's eyes, dismayed that he had caused Nettie distress. "Ain't what I wanted you t' be doin' whilst I was away."

"Now, now Son. Don't you be ridin' roughshod on yerself." Nettie admonished, gently. "It ain't yer fault I tend t' fret on people I care 'bout.

Vin smiled at that and turned looking at the still waters of the stream. "Seems just like it was days ago that we were here settin' t'gether." Vin shook his head. "It's a wonder how so much has changed, but being here now, it don't rightly seem like anythin' has come t' pass atall."

"Things change everyday. Some things fer the good, other things, well . . . not so good." Nettie watched Vin as his eyes intently searched the distant mountains. "There's one thing I want ya t'know." Nettie paused and turned Vin's face gently towards her as she spoke. "I need you t' hear me 'n t' believe in what I'm goin' t' tell ya."

"You know, I always believe ya, Nettie." Vin was confused and concerned at Nettie's insistent manner.

"I know that, Son." Nettie smiled and dropped her eyes down for a moment as she contemplated his faith in her. "I want ya t' know when things git bad or yer feelin' lonely. You come t' me. You come home."

"Nettie . . . " Vin hesitated unsure of what to say. It was too much caring, too much concern and he wanted to light out quick, feeling a need to be alone. He held back the fear and turned grateful eyes to Nettie.

"You just think on that. Keep it close t' ya 'n believe in it." Nettie rested her hand on Vin's shoulder and then supported herself against him as she rose from the ground. Vin stood up slowly, grunting from the stiffening of his leg and looked towards the hills before they turned towards the house.

"Still seein' ghosts, Son?" Nettie questioned Vin as he stared into the outskirts.

Nettie took Vin's hand patting it lightly. "Good. Let's git us some cobbler." Vin squeezed Nettie's hand fondly as they walked back to the house and the boys.

Chris met Nettie and Vin by the steps of the porch holding a slip of paper in his hands. He looked at Vin and extended the telegram out to him. "Matthew just brought this. It's from Fort Sill."

Vin looked at the white piece of paper with uncertainty and slowly reached out his hand to Chris. "Reckon it's news that's gotta be faced."

Nettie wrapped her fingers tightly around Vin's forearm giving him a supportive squeeze. Vin opened up the telegram and read to himself as his lips moved with each word. He raised his head up to Chris and quietly read the note aloud. " Our paths have been walked. The journey has ended."

"Quanah got him home all right then?" Chris studied Vin waiting for some backlash to the news of his father's death. Vin stood quietly with his head down, leaning into his hip with fingers hooked into his gun belt. His hat covered his face protectively, and Chris felt an urge rise up in him to remove it from the tracker. His thoughts were interrupted when intense, blue eyes focused on his. "Reckon he did, Chris."

Ezra and the rest of the men had been standing around the porch and had heard the words that the sharpshooter spoke. They walked to the steps near Chris, offering support to the tracker.

Vin's fingers distractedly played with the telegram as his mind raced with a jumble of thoughts and his stomach rolled with unease at the emotions that pulsed through him. Not used to being on display, Vin was ready to bolt, but Nettie held his arm firmly and tenderly with a loving touch that offered him strength.

Vin held his gaze on Chris and then looked back at the men. A slight smile touched the corners of Vin's mouth as he took in the sight of them, and all they were silently offering to him.

"Reckon I failed him somehow. Not walkin' with him t' the end. I got t' make peace with that. My head makes sense of it, but here . . ." Vin touched his chest with his hand and then looked again to the men. "I reckon that'll take me some time."

"Vin. . ." Chris started to reassure the sharpshooter, but was interrupted by Vin's glance showing him that he was all right.

Vin softly murmured words that the men labored to hear. "We will rise again. To be together. To walk the grasses. Happy my heart will be."

Vin sighed deeply and looked towards the hills, lightly touching his fingers to his hat brim. The men followed the direction of his gaze and each offered a silent moment of prayer.

Nettie made her way up the steps, leaving Vin to ponder on things, as Chris waited and studied the tracker, closely. The men followed Nettie into the house, leaving Vin and Chris alone.

Chris spoke to the sharpshooter with a forced lightness in his voice. "Hey Vin, let's get us some peach cobbler before it's all gone."

Vin looked towards Chris as he listened to the lighthearted laughter and amiable teasing of the men inside the house. He flashed a high-spirited grin to Chris and took the steps two at time leaving the gunslinger behind him. "Yer a mite slow on the draw there, Cowboy."

"Tanner!" Chris raced up the stairs after Vin, aware that the tracker had slowed down his pace, allowing Chris to catch up to him.

As Vin entered the house, Chris quietly stood in the doorway, cozily blanketed by the warmth of the late afternoon sun that filtered through the modest home's windows. He good-naturedly watched Vin as he playfully grabbed at J.D.'s cobbler and then relaxed himself comfortably down at Nettie's side. Still standing in the doorway, he smiled as the men gathered around Vin, joking and teasing each other.

Vin looked up, his eyes searching and raised his hand, silently calling Chris to join them. Their eyes held momentarily and Chris nodded as he entered the room, whispering to himself, "Welcome home, Vin. Welcome home."

To Honor My Father

By Kimberly KBJ