Sins of the Father, Part One

I want to take this opportunity to assure everyone that the convoluted plot, OMCs/OFCs, the conceptual ideas and writing for Sins of the Father are, in their entirety, all of my own work. Apart from hundreds of grammatical corrections by my super-beta, Jean B, no one else has had any input into my story.

Heartfelt thanks to my husband, Mike, for being such a supportive fella, during the highs and the way too many lows of writing this epic. I think he was joking when he threatened divorce, naming the 'Seven' as the reason for our marriage break-up! Huge, huge thank you to Jean B for doing such a great job in beta'ing this for me — Jean, you deserve a medal for so ably dealing with my comma fixation! You're one of the Best! Aside from Jean's many corrections, any other grammatical boo-boo's or plot flaws are mine and mine alone! An extra special thank you is due to Elizabeth, one of the tireless helpers on Lady Angel's website, for all of the hard work that she put in making my story look so good on the website. Elizabeth, you are a true professional — thank you for being so understanding, and graciously making all those pernickety amendments that I kept sending through to you.

If you enjoy this story, please let me know at susieburton999@yahoo.co.uk — I just love feedback!

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Chapter 5

"It's mine!" Ben Fielding screamed at his twin brother as the other fair-haired youngster tried to snatch the object from his hand.

"'Tis not! I saw it first! Give it t'me, Ben!" Colin lowered his head and charged at his brother, desperate to retrieve the small knife that he had found sunken into the earth by the main Cummings' house.

The sun had only just started to peek from behind the eastern hills, but Jim and Lizzie Fieldings' boys had been up and about for more than an hour, even beating the normally early rising Howard Fraser. They had returned from Ridge City the previous day with their parents and the Cummings' family. Following a much-needed early night in bed, the twins had woken before sun-up, restlessly squabbling in the house until their father had shooed them out to do their chores. After cleaning out their own horse's stalls, and then feeding and watering the remainder of the stock, the pair had grabbed an apple each from their mother's kitchen and wandered around the yard to wait for breakfast.

As the sun got higher, Colin had noticed something glinting on the ground at the end of the porch and, as he went to investigate, his brother followed. The small, ornate knife had been driven into the dirt until only the handle was visible, but the sharp-eyed youngsters immediately recognised it and, as one, had raced to pick up the tantalising object.

The twins would celebrate their fifteenth birthday in less than a week, although Colin was the youngest of the pair by forty minutes, a fact that Ben reminded him of on numerous occasions. They had been nagging at their father for an American style gun belt, revolver and utility knife to celebrate their approach to manhood and now being presented with one part of their long awaited accoutrements, neither young man was willing to relinquish ownership of the highly desirable find.

"If ye dinna hand it over right now, then I'll hav'ta beat ye inter a pulp fer it! Last chance, Ben," Colin warned his twin.

Ben's face screwed up into a scowling frown and, tucking the small knife down the side of his boot, he started to run towards the main house. "Ye've gotta catch me first!" he shouted back at his angry brother.

Will Tanner had been awake for a short while and, after checking on the still sleeping tracker, he had wandered downstairs with the intention of riding to the river for a much needed bath. The blond security boss had heard the commotion coming from outside and as he hurried out of the house, the flying figure of Ben Fielding collided with him on the front porch.

"Whoa! Slow down, son! Colin? Or is it Ben?" The Texan still had trouble distinguishing the identical pair and usually just said both boys' names as a matter of course.

The flustered youngster blushed in embarrassment, darting a scornful look at his brother who had stopped some distance behind him. "Sorry, Will. Col an' me were just larkin' around!"

Tanner took a step backwards and firmly closed the front door and, grabbing hold of Ben, he marched the boy down the steps, gesturing to the other youngster as he reached the second twin.

"It's a mite early, but I heard ya both when I was still upstairs. Folks are asleep an', in case ya'll've forgotten, Vin's real sick. His room's jes' there," the older man indicated the small upper balcony and the slightly open French doors before continuing, "an' I won't have his rest disturbed. Not by anyone. So, why don't ya tell me what the fight was all 'bout, huh?"

The three had reached the stables by now and as Will Tanner leaned against the wall he patiently waited for an explanation from the pair.

Reaching down for the knife, Ben pulled out the blade and held it up for the Texan to see. "I found this by the house, so that makes it mine! Colin was trying t'steal it from me."

"I saw it first!" the other boy contradicted.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"I got to it first, so yer not flamin' havin' it, Col!" Ben shouted, clutching the decorative weapon to his chest in a possessive gesture.

"Enough! Give me that, before I get really uppity an' whup both yer sorry hides!" Tanner barked furiously and, holding out his hand for the ornate knife, he glared angrily at the sullen-looking twins.

With a loud sigh, Ben reluctantly handed over the blade, and then turning his head towards Colin, he impishly stuck his tongue out at his brother. Both boys realised that they were about to lose the coveted item altogether, and their mischievous behaviour of that morning would probably not go unpunished either, particularly if the security boss informed their father of their indiscretion.

"Now I don't reckon yer folks would want ya t'have this, so I'll see if I can find out who it belongs to." The Texan stared blankly at the knife for a few moments, his thoughts in turmoil as he tried to work out the significance of this new development. The matching twin to this Comanche ceremonial blade was safely hidden in his own personal belongings and he'd never thought to see this second blade ever again. Tanner's mind was whirling as he struggled to untangle the mystery of where the knife had been for over two decades. It was as if his past had reached out to him with a vengeance, and he swallowed noisily as a painful memory suddenly sprang into his mind.

'Yer gonna bring shame on our family, son. I thought I'd raised ya t'be an honest man, but I guess I failed. I'm jes' grateful that yer ma ain't around t'see ya actin' like this. Ya would'a broke her heart, God rest her soul.' George Vincent Tanner regarded his son sadly, the knife and whittling in his hands forgotten as he watched the other ready his horse.

'Pa, I've got a wife and kid t'think of now, an' I want what's best fer them. This job'll be m'last, but the haul will be enough to give us all the kinda life we deserve. We Tanners' are on the trail of the high life an' it'll be easy picking's taking that gold!' the younger man grinned at his father, as he mounted his horse.

George Tanner pushed himself up from his rocking chair, and went to the edge of the cabin porch. 'High life! We's got all we need right here! Listen boy, if ya do this thing, then yer no son o' mine. I'm finished wit' ya, y'hear?' the older man gestured with the ornate knife to emphasise his point.

'I don't need ya, pa. I've found my own way of doin' things. Yer a loser — an old fool who lives in the past. Those folk in Grendon must be peeing themselves with laughter! George Vincent Tanner, the hero of the Alamo, living in a filthy shack in the hills! Ya ain't even got 'nough money to buy a bottle o' whiskey! I want more, pa, an' nuthin' ya say'll stop me from getting it.'

The older man's shoulders slumped in defeat and tears filled his eyes as the other hurriedly rode away. Somehow, he knew that he would never see his son again, but he prayed that the younger man's mistakes wouldn't come back to haunt them all in later years.

"Ooh! Ye've cut yer hand, Will!"

Ben Fielding's voice brought the Texan back to the present and, glancing down at the small cut on his palm, Tanner then thrust the knife into his belt before wiping his hand on his pants. "Show me exactly where and how ya found this, an' then I want ya both to quit arguing an' shake hands as friends. Yer brothers — family — an' ya shouldn't quarrel. Ya'll understand that when yer older."

The twins muttered quietly to one another for several seconds but, seeing the stern look on the Texan's face, they grudgingly shook hands.

"That's a mite better! Now, come an' show me where ya found this purty li'l toad-sticker!" The security boss tapped the hilt of the knife as he gestured meaningfully with his head.

After a thorough search of the area where the twins had found the knife, Tanner sent the two boys into their parents' house for breakfast. The somewhat pre-occupied man told the twins that he would make an exception this time for their high-spirited antics, but warned if they caused any further problems then he would have no choice but to inform their father.

The front yard was still deserted as Will Tanner scanned the terrain around the ranch and, with a heavy sigh the lone man headed towards the stable block to saddle his horse. He knew that the appearance of his father's knife was a personal message for him and he was reasonably certain in his mind of the identity of the man who had left the marker. If he was correct in his supposition, then he was sure that his movements were being observed and it would just be a matter of time before the other contacted him.

As the Texan rode out of the yard in the direction of the river, he resolved to go into Four Corners after he'd taken a bath. With this new threat to contend with he thought his best course of action would be to look through Vin's belongings, although Tanner knew he would have to be careful, as the ever watchful Chris Larabee was already on the defensive against him. Kicking his horse into a canter, the security boss gave a mirthless smile, as he thought about the protective attitude of the black dressed peacekeeper. It had gone against his grain to give the life-saving warning to Larabee on the night of the Mexicans attack, but Tanner had realised that in order to gain Vin's full trust he would have to present the image of an honourable, caring parent, and be mindful of the tracker's emotional attachment to his friends'.

With a rueful shake of his head, the security boss urged his mount on faster, eager to get his ablutions out of the way so he could search through Vin's wagon. The tracker had told him about the few items he still had that had belonged to their family, and although Tanner wasn't sure if those mementos would give him the information he desired, he still wanted to see them for himself. If that failed then he would have to try and find out how much Vin could remember but, he knew that his final option would be to take his son back to Grendon in an attempt to bring the younger man's childhood recollections to the surface.

This ultimate scheme would certainly put Chris Larabee on the offensive, particularly with the outstanding bounty on Vin's head, but by the time this part of his plan came to fruition the Texan would have dealt with the gunslinger once and for all. The act of vengeance that Tanner had been considering for the black dressed peacekeeper would solve several problems at once; the hardest thing would be keeping everything concealed from Vin, but with the surprising emergence of the man from his past he may have the means to shift any blame away from himself. It was something he would have to work on, but he felt reasonably confident that he could pull it off. Time was on Tanner's side, and he could afford to be patient for a while longer.

Vin Tanner lay propped up against several pillows in his bed, quietly listening to the busy activity of the ranch workers and the sawing and hammering as the men repaired fences after the Mexican bandits attack. The tracker had been at the Cummings' ranch for four days, and he was already thoroughly pissed by the rigidly imposed bed rest, although he was glad to have some moments of solitude as he mulled over the extraordinary events of the last week.

So much seemed to have changed in Vin's life in such a short space of time, but the differences appeared to be counteracting one another, and he was hurt and angry by the unsettling atmosphere.

The Texan peacekeeper had gained a father, whom he'd believed to be dead, but in return it felt like he'd lost the comradeship of his closest friend. Nathan and Andrew MacIntyre had told the tracker a little of what had occurred the night of his operation, but the two physicians had deliberately kept the details sketchy, as they had on intention of distressing their patient in the early stages of his recuperation. However, Vin had seen the evidence of fist marks on the security boss' face, and was under no illusions on who had fought with the older man, although neither father nor son had spoken of the incident. No matter how much he pondered on the problem he just couldn't seem to find a way to resolve the volatile conflict between Chris Larabee and Will Tanner.

Despite the highly contentious situation, the tracker had started to feel a family bond with Tanner; the man had so many personal characteristics that were similar to Vin's grandfather, that the peacekeeper was amazed he'd not recognised his own kinsman from their very first meeting. Of course, it would take time for everything to fully sink in, but he'd spoken at length to the blond Texan — curiously, he couldn't get used to the idea of calling the man 'pa' to his face — and he'd learned much about his family.

The security boss had sat constantly with Vin the first day after the operation, although the sick man had barely been aware of his father's presence, as the morphine that MacIntyre administered had kept his patient blissfully enveloped in a narcotic-induced sleep. It wasn't until the following day, when the doctor had reduced the drug dosage that Vin had also been told how the older man's prompt actions had saved his life.

Once he was certain that Vin was out of danger, Nathan had left the Cummings' property with the promise that he would arrange a rota of visitors for the tracker, although the healer privately doubted that Chris Larabee would be persuaded to come out to the ranch. Chris had not returned since the morning following the tracker's operation, but Vin knew that the gunslinger's absence was because of the presence of Will Tanner rather than any disinterest in how his friend was progressing. The only one of his peacekeeping friends that Vin had seen was Ezra Standish.

The gambler had made the long journey from town, ostensibly to return Robert Cummings thoroughbred stallion, but also to see the tracker and visit Fiona. It had been an unusually quiet and restrained Southerner who'd appeared briefly at the tracker's bedside and, apart from commenting in passing on Vin's newly discovered father, Ezra had only spoken of general matters with his friend. Evidently all of Vin's visitors had been warned not to say anything to distress the still ailing man.

The young Texan wasn't sure who in the Cummings' household was being so fiercely protective of him, on both a physical and an emotional level, but he strongly suspected MacIntyre. Although even Vin had to admit that the doctor had good reason for his watchful manner considering the amount of personal effort the physician had lavished on his recalcitrant patient. It was becoming harder to accept the smothering care but, for the time being, there was nothing the tracker could do about his predicament, and he'd grudgingly resigned himself to a long stay at the ranch.

This was the first day that he'd managed to stay awake between breakfast and lunch and, although he knew MacIntyre was concerned by his reluctant patient's increasing fever, the tracker had stubbornly refused the dose of laudanum offered that morning. The drug made him sleepy and nauseous, so Vin had decided to put up with the lingering pain in his stomach, as he wanted to convince the pedantic Scottish physician that he was ready to get up.

With a heavy sigh, Vin picked up a glass from the bedside table, sipping at the cold water half-heartedly as he morosely considered his current position. Despite all the people around him, he felt alone, displaced, and he yearned to return to his normal pursuits and a familiar environment. Wistfully glancing at the open French doors as a sudden gust of wind caught the curtains, the Texan wondered whether he could make it out to the wicker chair on the small balcony. Vin knew the fussy doctor would probably have a fit if he caught his patient blatantly disregarding his instructions, but he was desperate to be mobile, and wanted to see something other than the bedroom walls, which seemed to be closing in on him with every passing hour.

The sound of the door handle rattling made him hastily dismiss the idea of getting out of bed and, placing the glass back on the table, a bright smile lit up his features as he saw his first visitor of the day.

"Chris!"

Chris Larabee grabbed a chair, placing it close to his friend's bed and, reaching out his right hand, he gripped Vin's outstretched arm in a warm clasp. It had taken much deliberating and badgering by Buck and Nathan to get the gunslinger out to the Cummings' ranch but, now seeing the unusually open look of pleasure on the tracker's face, Chris was glad he'd been persuaded to visit his younger friend.

"Hey there, pard. How're y'doing?"

Vin nodded happily, delighted and not a little relieved to finally speak to the one person who would understand exactly how he felt about the strictly enforced convalescence. "I'm good, cowboy."

"Nathan and Josiah are downstairs talking to Andrew and Robert, but they'll be up shortly. Hope you ain't causing any fuss to these folks, nor teachin' the good doctor any new cuss words—Texas style!" Chris grinned as he sat down on the comfortable chair.

"Nope. I've bin behavin'! Miz Lizzie's bin cluckin' around, makin' me nice things t'eat, an' Miz Fiona or Abigail read t'me in the afternoon," the tracker drawled solemnly.

"Hell, wait 'til I tell Buck! He's gonna be so envious, he'll probably go shoot hisself just to get a share!" Chris exclaimed.

"He can have my share then! Dammit, Chris, I gotta get outta here, but the docs taken m'clothes, an' I think he's got someone on watch outside the door! Lord, I allus thought Nathan was bossy, but he's a pussycat compared to Andrew! An' Bruce ain't much better! Look at all that purty coloured soap an' stuff," Vin snorted huffily, stabbing a finger at the washstand laden with assorted bottles, medicaments and towels as he continued. "Jeez, I ain't never bin scrubbed s'hard as when Bruce washed me this mornin', an' I smell like one o' them jigglo boys that Ez reckons he saw in New Orleans! Ya'll gotta help me escape, Chris, 'cos I don't reckon I can take much more o' this a'fussin' an' a'coddlin'!"

The gunslinger smiled sympathetically but he was pleased that the younger man was feeling well enough to complain about the restrictive recuperation. Vin rarely strung together more than a few words at a time, but the tracker's annoyance at a situation that he obviously likened to imprisonment had made the man unusually talkative and Chris inwardly steeled himself for an angry backlash from his friend.

"Be more than m'life's worth to spring you from here, pard! The doc may be small an' skinny, but he's one tough hombre when it comes to medical stuff—and Robert and Bruce back him up one hundred and ten percent. Mind you, I'll be sure to tell Nathan what you said, 'cos I'll bet he's never been called a pussycat before — except mebbe by Rain!"

"Huh! I thought ya'd understand, Chris! It's so damned boring being cooped up in here! I ain't allowed t'do anythin'! Andrew won't even let me clean m'gun! Now what effort does that take, eh? It ain't like I'm gonna be running around or nuthin', but I'd feel happier if I had m'mares leg 'side o' me. What if those Mexican bastards come back fer a second go? I lost an appendix, not m'skill wit' a rifle!" Vin knew he was unfairly venting his frustration on the gunslinger, but Chris was the one person who would comprehend his mood, and the feeling of utter helplessness that had bubbled up inside needed to be expressed.

Chris put a placating hand on the tracker's arm, in an attempt to calm the younger man. "That was never in doubt, pard, but you're well protected here, and no one will let anything to happen to you. An' I do understand how you feel. I've been in exactly the same position. Remember? All you can do is relax and accept the doc's advice. I know it's hard, but that's your only option for now."

"They all keep sayin' that! I bin stuck wit' needles, an' forced t'drink Nate's awful hosses piss medicine too! Hell, I can't even go out to the privy!" Vin's tone revealed his despair, but the ill-humoured outburst had left him weary, and he closed his eyes momentarily as he relaxed back on his pillows.

Chris couldn't help but smile at his friend's exasperated comments, and his hand briefly came up to cover his mouth. "I know it's a rough ride, Vin, but you've bin sick, and the only way you're gonna get back on your feet is by resting. In a few weeks this'll be a bad memory, and you can get back to normal."

"Lose the fucking smile, Larabee! Ya'll ain't the one who has t'piss...or...or... do t'other, in a fancy chamber pot! An' I bin poked an' prodded in places I didn't know I had places! Even Nathan's had a fair go, 'cos Andrew's teachin' him some proper doctorin' stuff—wit' me as the unwilling victim!" the tracker exclaimed heatedly, his blue eyes flashing in indignation.

Chris picked up a damp cloth from the side table and gently wiped his friend's sweaty face. "You're getting yourself all lathered up, pard! I heard the doc say that you're a bit feverish and need t'drink more, so why don'tcha finish this up?" the gunslinger coaxed, reaching across to the bedside table for the nearly full glass of water.

"Water an' Nate's evil brew — that's all I get! Ain't ya got any whiskey wit' ya, Chris?"

"Nope. And even if I did, I wouldn't let you have some. Nathan 'ud have m'balls battered, fried and served up hot if I gave you any liquor!"

"Damn spoilsport! What kinda friend d'ya call yerself?"

"The kind that has the sense t'listen to those who know what's best for you, Vin."

"Never figured ya'd have a yella streak, Larabee! Mean — yeah, yella — no! 'Sides, I got a hankerin' fer summat a mite different fer supper. Battered balls! Mmm — sounds tasty!" the Texan said, smacking his lips appreciatively. "I bet Miz Lizzie could scare up a spicy sauce t'go wit' 'em too!" Vin's eyes glittered wickedly over the rim of the glass, as he finished the water.

"Mebbe it sounds appetising to you, Vin, but I'm really attached to m'jewels, thank you very much!" Chris grinned as he took the empty glass, delighted that he'd managed to get the sick man to take in some fluids.

"Reckon," Vin drawled. The mischievous look suddenly disappeared from the tracker's face and he fidgeted in the bed. "Seriously though, Chris. I've had 'bout as much as I can stand trapped out here. I need ya t'find m'pants an' boots. Andrew's jes' being an ole fuss bucket! Two weeks in bed he told me. Two weeks! Hell, I'd've got a shorter sentence fer robbin' the stage!"

"Vin, there ain't nuthin' t'be done about it, so I reckon you should rest easy and concentrate on getting well. It's no use arguing, 'cos you're staying in that bed 'til Doc MacIntyre says you're ready to leave it. So quit the bitchin' and just let these good folks take care of you."

"Hell, I know when I'm licked, Chris, but I'd rest easier in m'wagon! Least I could smell the air an' see the sky again. An' then I could get rid of this damned frilly shirt!" Vin picked irritably at the loosely gathered cuff of the soft cotton nightshirt he wore and there was no mistaking the man's frustration at his plight.

Chris smiled fleetingly at his friend's last remark, but then pursed his lips at the comment about the wagon, and he wondered whether he should tell the tracker what had happened in town two days ago. The gunslinger had given his word to Nathan that he wouldn't mention the fight he'd had with Will Tanner after Chris had furiously hauled the Texan from his friend's rig, so he decided just to give Vin the bare bones of the incident. He didn't want to alarm the younger man, but the tracker had a right to know what had occurred with his belongings in his absence.

"What's wrong?" Vin frowned, as the older man stayed silent. "Chris?"

"Vin, I moved your wagon to the livery, and put your private stuff in Ezra's safe," Chris finally stated.

"Why?"

The gunslinger looked away and, rising to his feet, he went to stare out of the window. How much should he tell the tracker? Was his friend ready to hear what needed to be said, and would Vin understand Chris' reaction against his newly discovered father? Coming to a decision, Chris slowly turned to face the other man.

"I moved it, because I caught Hen...Tanner breaking into it a coupla days ago."

Vin shook his head in puzzlement, as he mulled over what his friend had said.

"Yeah... waal, I... I wanted... summat from m'things," the tracker eventually mumbled, unable to meet Chris' sceptical gaze.

"So you knew he was going into your wagon? Any one of us could have got what you wanted."

"Ya weren't here!" the tracker spat out accusingly, pushing himself off his pillows as he spoke.

Chris flinched as if he'd been stung. "I know when to stay away, pard. Tanner made it perfectly clear that I wasn't needed, so I thought it best t'leave. When he came into town, he didn't even let us know how you were doing, and then I caught him searching through..."

"He's my pa, Chris, an' I ain't got any secrets t'hide!" Vin interrupted sharply.

The gunslinger's hand dipped into his shirt pocket and, going back to the bed, he held up the younger man's harmonica. "Mebbe, but it ain't the first time he's been through your personal things. I took this off of him on the night of your operation."

Vin pulled himself more upright in the bed, wincing a little as his abdomen cramped from the unrestrained movement. Reaching out his hand, he took the offered mouth organ from his friend, turning it over several times as he contemplated the precious object. "Wuz wonderin' where this'd got to," he said at length.

An uneasy silence fell on the room for a few minutes until, with a loud sigh, the tracker placed the little instrument on the bedside table.

"Chris, that belonged to m'grandpa—Will's pa—so I reckon that gives him a right t'play it, don't ya think?"

"Does it?" the gunslinger countered.

The tracker looked away with a snort of disgust, and Chris wondered if he'd pushed the younger man too far. Wandering across to the window again, the gunslinger glanced out at the busy front yard, as he deliberated over the question that was paramount in his mind.

"Vin, he's just turned up from nowhere, and we know nothing about him. Are you certain he's your pa?" he finally asked.

"YES! What's got inter ya, Chris? Ya allus trusted my judgement of folks afore, so what's so different about this? I know you've bin fighting wit' him, 'cos I saw his face t'other day, an' lookee here — ya arrive totin' 'round a matching set of fist marks! Yer jumpin' t'the wrong conclusions, Larabee, but yer too pig-headed t'admit yer mistake!" The tracker's voice had got louder as his irritation increased, and he cast a worried look at the bedroom door hoping that there was no one around to witness the pair's quarrel.

"I don't think I'm mistaken, Vin. Seems to me that Tanner's using you, and I bet he's only out for what he can get. Perhaps he needs money. You've got your ma's things; maybe he wanted them back to sell."

"What the hell have I got that's worth anything?" the tracker asked in stunned disbelief.

Chris chewed on his lower lip for several minutes, as he silently regarded his friend.

"You, Vin," the gunslinger said at length.

Vin frowned in confusion, his mind racing as he considered the gunslinger's quiet words. Suddenly his eyes widened in shocked realisation. "Jeez, y'mean the bounty! Is that what this is all about still? Godammit Chris, if he were that desperate t'sell his own son down the river, don't you reckon he would've carried on riding into Texas that morning I got sick? I'd've been no trouble, 'cos I would'a prob'ly bin dead by the next day!"

"No, it's not just the bounty. I don't trust the man, and him claiming to be your pa don't change what I feel. He's up to summat, Vin, and I intend to find out what. Now, I'm sorry if that offends you, but it's part of my responsibility as a duly appointed law enforcer to keep a close eye on things."

The air had suddenly become charged with sullen resentment and the tracker dragged a hand across his forehead, as he glowered at the older man. It was hard to understand why his friend was acting like this. Vin had seen Chris have suspicions against many men when involved in their duties as peacekeepers, but the gunslinger seemed to be taking this very personally, and wasn't even prepared to hear Will Tanner's side of the story. Why?

"Claiming t'be m'pa? He is m'pa! What's crawling up yer ass, Larabee? Yer acting like yer jealous or summat!" Chris' eyes momentarily narrowed at Vin's forthright comment, but then the tracker was astonished to see his friend's mouth suddenly curve into a smile.

"Jealous! Y'know me better than that, pard. But I do care what happens t'you, and I don't want to see you get hurt. Tanner's no good and it'll just be a matter of time before y'see that yourself." Chris shook his head sadly, first looking down at the carpet and then turning back to gaze out of the window.

Vin had heard enough. With an outraged curse he threw the blankets aside, hastily swinging his legs to the floor. Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, he took several unsteady steps towards the gunslinger, grimacing as he felt a sharp tug on the stitches. The tracker hadn't got very far from the bed, when clutching at his right side, he gasped as a white-hot pain ripped through his stomach and back. The intensity of the burning spasm robbed him of air and, as he desperately tried to breathe, panic began to take control, causing a trickle of cold sweat to meander down his spine.

"Argh! C...Chris!" A kaleidoscope of red starbursts flashed across Vin's vision and his face went the colour of whey. With a low moan, the tracker's hand reached out to his friend as his shaky legs finally buckled.

"Vin!"

Chris had seen the Texan's rash move and, hurriedly crossing the room, he just managed to catch his friend as the younger man crumpled against him. Chris allowed Vin's dead weight to take them both to the floor and, cradling the limp body to his chest, he gently supported the tracker's head whilst cushioning the unconscious man from any dangerous impact.

"Nathan!"

The dark-skinned healer had been talking to Andrew MacIntyre in the doctor's office, but both men had heard the heated argument drifting down the stairs and were already making their way up to Vin's room. Looking at one another in annoyance as they picked up the end part of Chris and Vin's angry exchange, the two physicians quickened their pace, running along the galleried landing when the gunslinger's alarmed call rang out.

Throwing open the bedroom door Nathan strode over to his friends' side, immediately noting the tracker's pallid and sweaty face. MacIntyre also dropped to his knees, ignoring the apprehensive-looking gunslinger as he made his initial assessment of his patient. Brushing back the tracker's hair the doctor placed two fingers to Vin's neck, his dark eyes glittering with barely suppressed rage as he felt the rapid, thready pulse under his fingertips.

"Christ Almighty! He's out cold, Nathan. Let's get him back in bed. Soames, could you get my medical bag from my desk and some boiling water, please," MacIntyre requested curtly, on seeing Josiah and the steward standing in the doorway.

Chris' worried eyes met Nathan's condemning gaze as the two physicians gently lifted the unconscious Texan off of the gunslinger, but the healer was too concerned by Vin's condition to waste time quizzing his older friend on what had happened. Not that Nathan really needed an explanation, having heard some of what had been said; the astute healer was only too aware of Chris' disdain and mistrust for the Cummings' security boss.

Josiah and Soames had also caught snatches of the argument between the two men, and hadn't been far behind the healer and the physician in reaching the sick Texan's room. Staring at Chris in stunned disbelief, the ex-preacher saw the anguish written in every tense line of the black clad body. As the ashen-faced gunslinger began to edge closer to the bed, Josiah hastened into the room, clamping a firmly restraining hand on the other's shoulder.

"No, Chris," the ex-preacher warned. "Nathan and Andrew need room to work. I'm sure he'll be fine, but I'd say he's best left to the healers' hands for the present."

"Dammit, Josiah! This wasn't supposed to happen. That sly bastard ain't even here, but he's still causing trouble! Vin an' me were...Shit! I'm going back t'town!" The gunslinger's emotional shutters had slammed down and he could already feel the shroud of guilt weaving assiduously through his soul. Casting a final lingering look at the deathly still tracker, Chris abruptly spun on his heel, and then strode out of the door.

A quietly pensive Bruce Soames came back into the room, and passing MacIntyre his medical bag he then placed a pitcher of steaming water on the washstand. Crossing to join Josiah by the window, the two older men saw Chris Larabee get on his horse and kick the black into a canter, heading towards the track that led to the main route to town.

"Lord, what a mess!" Josiah breathed, glancing at the Scotsman.

"Aye, that's one word for it! Shouldn't someone go after him, Josiah?"

"Nope. Chris is hurting too, and he's got to chase out the demons before he can make sense of all this. I never thought I'd live to see the day when those two men fought. What other surprises have you got in store for us, Lord?" the ex-preacher asked, as he cast his beseeching eyes heavenward. "Or is this some kind of warning? 'The beginning of strife is like letting out water; so quit before the quarrel breaks out'. Is that what you're trying to tell us?"

Soames frowned in concentration for a few seconds before addressing the other man. "Proverbs... 17.13?"

"17.14. Brother, you are a man after my own heart!"

Josiah clapped Soames on the back as he spoke and, despite the tense atmosphere, both the ex-preacher and steward chuckled, suddenly realising they shared a common ministerial interest.

The burly Scotsman glanced over to where the doctor was now examining the tracker, easily seeing the worry on the faces of both medical men as MacIntyre peeled away the dressing over the incision wound. Soames pulled at his ear absently, a grim look on his face, as he spoke.

"Ye know Josiah, I thought Chris and Vin were really close — like brothers. That lad needs peace and quiet to recover, and Chris should respect that. I canna think what Will's going to say when he comes in later! It'll take a brave man to stop him from riding after Chris, especially if he feels his son is needlessly suffering because of a stupid argument."

Josiah gave a thoughtful nod, and then smiled wryly at Soames. "That won't solve anything, my friend, and will only cause the boy more sorrow. Chris and Vin are more than brother's really, but that's part of the problem. Chris trusts his instincts, and they've kept him alive on many occasion. Unfortunately, whenever he sees Will Tanner his mistrust for the man kicks in, and Chris honestly believes he's protecting Vin. It won't be easy, but they have to work this out together, Bruce."

"Well, don't be surprised if Chris is stopped from visiting the laddie for the time being, because I can see that MacIntyre is not very impressed, and I expect...Oh, good Lord! Excellent timing, Will!" Soames stated ruefully, as he squinted out of the window.

The big peacekeeper and steward stared at one another in consternation, as the easily recognisable figure of Will Tanner suddenly appeared on the approach track. The older men glanced over to the bed, but the two physicians were taking no notice of what was happening around them, as they worked on their unconscious patient, and didn't even look up as Josiah and Soames hurriedly left the room.

Tanner had witnessed Chris Larabee's rapid departure from the mile-long track leading from the Cummings' ranch, although the Texan hadn't been close enough to the fast riding peacekeeper to speak to the man — even if he felt the desire to engage the other in polite conversation. However, it was the almost maniacal speed of the black dressed rider that caught Tanner's attention, and a sudden feeling of dread coursed through him, causing him to viciously spur his horse on to the ranch.

The blond Texan reined his mount to a halt at the wooden porch and, sliding from the saddle, he hastened up the steps to burst through the front door.

"Bruce! I saw Larabee riding like he'd the Devil on his tail! What's wrong? Is Vin...?"

Josiah and Soames blocked the bottom of the staircase, but the Texan's stormy entrance into the house had alerted Robert and Abigail Cummings, and the couple suddenly appeared in the large hallway.

"Bruce? What's going on?" Robert Cummings enquired, noticing the defensive stance of his steward and Josiah Sanchez.

Soames put a sympathetic hand on Tanner's arm, and his steady grey gaze locked with his colleague's fearful blue eyes as he began to explain.

"The young lad's had a wee ...setback, sir, but Doctor MacIntyre and Nathan are with him at the moment."

"Setback! Let me through, Bruce! Get outta m'way! NOW!" Tanner roared angrily, shaking off the hand and attempting to push past the two well-built men.

"Will! Calm yourself, man! Let's keep our heads, and talk like reasonable people. Will!" Cummings was used to having his orders obeyed and, when his voice took on that tone, people generally listened.

The Texan forced himself to relax, but he could tell by the look on the big peacekeeper's face that he wasn't going to like what he was about to be told.

Tanner's lips were set in a tight thin line, and he balled his hands into fists as he began to pace up and down the hall. "Tell me, Bruce. All of it!"

Soames started to relate everything he could about what had happened following Chris' visit, but he was unable to meet his friend's hard stare as he mentioned the argument between the two peacekeepers. The steward had a full measure of inner courage, but he went cold when he saw the look of murder in the Texan's flinty eyes, and he prayed that Chris Larabee kept well away from the man in the foreseeable future.

Tanner let out a long, slow breath as the Scotsman finished speaking and, touching his hat politely to Abigail Cummings, he gave a crooked smile. "M'sorry ma'am, fer bustin' in t'yer house like that. Guess I let m'worry fer m'son chase away m'good manners."

"I quite understand, Will, and no apology is necessary. I would imagine the responsibility of being a lone parent is no easy burden, especially when your son is so desperately ill. Robert, we must ensure that Will has our total support and understanding in this matter. An ailing child — regardless of their age — can only benefit from the comforting presence of a loving father." The woman smiled lightly, and looking adoringly up to her husband she placed a protective hand on her swollen abdomen.

"Of course, my dear. Thank you for reminding me," Robert Cummings murmured as he captured his wife's hand and lovingly brushed it to his lips. Addressing the steward once more, the rancher gestured with his head to the stairs. "Bruce, stand aside and let him go up to see Vin. Will, I know you're worried, but I would like you to heed MacIntyre's instructions, and if he does not want you in your son's room at present, then you must respect his professional judgement." There was a note of finality in Cummings voice, and seeing the two older men move out of the way, the rancher gave a satisfied nod.

Tanner said nothing as he started up the stairs and, as he reached Vin's bedroom, his hand rested on the door handle for several seconds. Glancing behind at Soames and Josiah, the Texan took a deep breath and quietly entered the room.

Nathan Jackson and Andrew MacIntyre were sitting on opposite sides of the motionless tracker, quietly talking to one another and, for several minutes, they took no notice of the three men who had come into the bedroom. The Scottish doctor placed an empty syringe on the side table and, giving a distracted nod at something the healer said, he glanced up momentarily as Nathan got to his feet. The tall peacekeeper went to the washstand to scrub his hands and, sensing the anxiety surrounding the men, especially Will Tanner, he hurried over to speak to them.

"Will, he's gonna be fine, he jes' passed out fer a coupla minutes. Vin tore some stitches when he got outta bed, but an abscess has begun to develop, and Andrew needs to drain the incision. We guessed there was summat wrong though, 'cos his temperature was still too high an' his general condition wasn't really improving like it should've bin." The former slave paused, but he could see the pent-up anger and tension in the older man as he explained the problem. It was obvious that no matter what anyone said, Will Tanner would place all blame of his son's relapse firmly on Chris Larabee's shoulders.

Watching as the doctor unrolled a pouch of surgical instruments, Nathan grasped the security boss' forearm, and led the other man over to the balcony doors. "Let's give him some privacy while he sees to the boy, huh? Will, I know it prob'ly don't seem it t'ya at this minute, but in a way it's a blessing in disguise this happened, cos' if Vin had healed any more, then Andrew would've had t'open him up again t'find the problem."

"Thanks, Nathan," the older man muttered. Sinking down onto a chair, Tanner pulled his hat off and silently observed the doctor as he worked on the tracker. Bruce Soames gave his colleague a sympathetic look and, after whispering a few words to the two peacekeepers, the steward quietly left the room.

Andrew MacIntyre had taken out Vin's remaining stitches, before manipulating the angry-looking incision scar to try and remove as much of the infection as possible. Taking the small basin offered by Nathan, he started to bathe the torn flesh and, with a quick glance across at his worried workmate, he began to pack the open wound with the fine surgical lint that had been soaking in carbolic. It took the physician nearly fifteen minutes to finish the procedure, but finally he taped a clean dressing to the tracker's stomach and then started to check his patient's pulse and respiration.

Realising that the doctor had almost completed the treatment, Tanner got to his feet and took the seat opposite MacIntyre while patiently waiting for the Scotsman to update him on Vin's condition. The older man picked up a slack hand, absently massaging the tracker's cold fingers, as he wondered when this would all end. It seemed like the fates were conspiring against him, but he was determined to get what had eluded him for more than twenty years, and he wasn't going to allow anything to thwart his plans.

The security boss was also concerned by the anonymous presence lurking in the shadows and, if he were correct in his assumption about the identity of the newcomer, then he would have to be even more vigilant in guarding his own interest. The stakes were extremely high and his former partner would have no hesitation in trying to snatch Vin away from him; Tanner knew the other man was ruthless enough to attempt that even if the peacekeeper was still in his sickbed.

Letting out a heavy sigh as he pondered the escalating problems, the older Texan gently squeezed the unconscious man's icy fingers. Of course, the situation wasn't helped by the continuing interference of Chris Larabee. Aside from everything else Tanner needed to build a relationship with Vin, but he was aware that he would have to tread carefully, especially with the close bond that existed between the tracker and the gunslinger. However, staring at the pale young man in the bed, the security boss knew he could turn this most recent incident to his advantage, and he sensed that he would have the full support of the doctor and Nathan Jackson in what he was about to say.

Andrew MacIntyre gave a satisfied grunt as he unhooked his stethoscope and, pulling the tracker's nightshirt and the bedding straight, he looked expectantly at his work colleague.

"How is he, doc?" Tanner asked as he tucked his son's hand under the covering, and then smoothed Vin's unruly hair back.

MacIntyre took a cup of coffee from the offered tray that Bruce Soames had just appeared with, and sipped a few mouthfuls of the dark brew before replying.

"Well, he really didn't need this on top of everything else! This has pushed him right back to how he was a few days ago. He's very weak, and I'm just hoping and praying that he doesn't go into shock. That's my biggest, but not my only concern. Will, I'm sorry that I didn't realise in time what was happening up here with Vin and..." The doctor's voice trailed off as he saw the blond Texan's jaw clench in controlled anger, although the older man remained silent. It was clear that Will Tanner was desperately trying to keep a firm grip on his emotions, and MacIntyre felt heartily relieved that he wasn't the one responsible for incurring the security boss' wrath.

Taking a deep breath, the Scottish physician continued giving his report. "The wound's infected, Will, but I'll let it drain before I re-stitch it, and hopefully his fever will break in the next twenty-four hours. There was no outward sign of a problem, although I thought it rather odd when he kept denying that he felt any pain or discomfort. Still, at least now he can start to heal properly. If he thought I'd been strict these last few days, well, he's in for an extremely rude awakening following this! He will stay in that bed, even if I have to bloody well tie him down!"

Nathan had been talking to Josiah, but now he came over to stand next to the doctor, chuckling quietly at the Scotsman's irascible comment. "Waal, Andrew, I got me a rope jes' fer that purpose, back at the clinic! Now y'can see what I meant when I told ya how m'favourite patient is when he's sick or injured. That man's one half mule, two halves jackass! I'll bet Vin's been itching to get outta that bed, but I reckon this'll convince him that he's gotta stay put fer now."

"This ain't all down t'Vin though, is it? Larabee had no business coming in here, an' upsetting m'son. I know he's yer friend Nathan, but I won't have that suspicious minded bastard comin' back, an' causing more grief. Andrew, if ya want what's best fer Vin, then keep Larabee away 'til the boy's stronger."

There was a hard edge to the security boss' voice as he made his demand, and Nathan and Josiah exchanged worried glances. Will Tanner seemed determined to stamp his paternal authority over proceedings and, with Vin in no position to over-rule his father's instructions, the doctor would have no choice but to defer to the blond Texan's wishes.

Andrew MacIntyre gave a short nod. His colleague was more than entitled to ask that of him; by Vin's own admission the man was his father, and no-one had the right to interfere with Tanner's orders when it came to his son's medical care and general well-being.

"Aye. That was my intention anyway, Will." The doctor ran his hand through his hair, as he quietly spoke. "Nathan and I have already discussed it, and we believe that restricting Chris' visits in the short term will be more conducive to this young man's recovery. Of course, any of his other friends are more than welcome to see him, once we've beaten this infection."

Tanner was pleased that MacIntyre had finally given agreement to his stipulation and, seeing the look of grudging resignation on the faces of two older peacekeepers, he could tell that he'd easily won this round. "Good. M'glad that's settled then."

Placing his hand on the sleeping man's forehead, the security boss could feel the heat emanating from the tracker's skin. "Damn, he's hot! Ya could fry an egg on here! How long before he wakes up, doc?" Tanner wanted to know.

"He should sleep until early evening. Unfortunately, laudanum makes him sick to the stomach, so I've had to give him a pretty hefty dose of morphine. I'm not very happy about using the drug again, but I didn't want him moving around unnecessarily and there were few alternatives left to me. Will, I think some fairly aggressive treatment is required to reduce his temperature, and I'll be staying with him for the remainder of the day and tonight to get him through this crisis. Now, I will not tolerate another incident like this one, so all visits will be stopped for the time being. Vin needs to keep calm and quiet, but more importantly, he must rest."

Josiah ambled across to the bed and, placing a large hand on Tanner's shoulder, he gestured to the tracker. "Will, if Andrew has no objections I'll stay and help, as Nathan has to get back to town. No disrespect to you, but I know how that boy's mind works and I believe he'll need a friend, someone he knows well, to talk to when he wakes up. He and Chris have a special friendship, and Vin will most likely be more worried by his absence then what's occurred with himself."

Tanner took a deep breath as he considered the ex-preacher's words but, seeing MacIntyre nod in acceptance to the suggestion, the blond Texan inclined his head in agreement. "I'm grateful, Josiah. I can see that you an' Nathan have feelings fer m'boy, an' I reckon y'know how he'll react. The last thing I want is Vin's recovery being put back yet again. Andrew... I ain't one fer fancy words or such, but I really 'preciate all the work and medical attention ya've given to m'son. Thank you."

MacIntyre beamed in delight at the older man's praise, and wringing out a cloth in a basin he began to sponge Vin's face and neck. "You are more than welcome, Will. Your son is a braw young man, and I'm just so pleased that I could help him. Now, I know that Vin thinks I'm being far too stringent with his convalescence, but he really must follow my instructions, otherwise he will merely prolong his recovery time. Perhaps you can convince him of that between you all."

"Damned right we will!" the blond security man stated forcefully.

Bruce Soames came over to the bed with an empty pitcher and, holding up the large jug, he addressed the younger Scot. "His Lordship brought an enormous slab of ice back from Ridge City. Shall I put some in here with cold well water? I remember nursing the old Earl through a fever many years ago, and sponging him down with iced water mixed with alcohol really helped reduce his temperature."

MacIntyre nodded vigorously to the suggestion. "Aye, that's an excellent idea. I'll need some fresh bedding and extra pillows too. Nathan, could you give Soames the white alcohol in my pharmacy drawer, and then prepare some of your willow bark tea. Add a pinch or two of camomile as well, my friend. Lizzie has all the jars that you gave me in the kitchen, and you'll find a small china flagon with a long spout in my office cupboard. That will make it simpler to get fluids into him without too much spillage. Will, I need your help to prop him on his left side. Umm... It helps to have any pus drain well away from the open wound." The doctor nearly ran out of breath as he rapidly issued orders, and the final sentence was in response to the quizzical look on Will Tanner's face.

The healer and the burly steward gave nods of assent, and then left the bedroom to complete the doctor's instructions. Josiah gazed thoughtfully at the older Texan as the man assisted MacIntyre in carefully removing the tracker's sweat-dampened nightshirt. There was no doubting Tanner's sincerity for Vin's condition, and the man seemed to be exhibiting all the emotions of a concerned father. But was the overt display merely a charade to hide some unknown agenda?

The ex-preacher had spoken at length to Nathan about Will Tanner, and the healer had gone into great detail regarding what had occurred between the blond security boss and Chris Larabee on the evening of Vin's operation. Josiah hadn't been able to get much information from the gunslinger, but now seeing what had transpired during Chris' visit with the sick tracker, it was clear that the older man had conveyed his suspicions of Tanner to the younger Texan.

The wise peacekeeper knew that in most cases there was no smoke without fire, and he'd already decided to carry out his own investigation on the tracker's alleged father. Josiah would need to find out as much as possible from his young friend, and he would ensure that he had some privacy when he talked to Vin later. It would be difficult to gather details on the Tanner family, but Josiah was optimistic, particularly if Vin was able to supply hitherto unknown information; he was certain that Mary and Orin Travis would help him, and the pair would have official resources available to find out as much as they could, whilst being totally discreet with their enquiries. He didn't want to involve any of his other friends in his plan, nor alert the tracker to his intentions, so all the ex-preacher could do now was wait for Vin to wake up, and also give any support and help he could to the Scottish physician.

"Check." Josiah released his knight and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile as he watched his opponent consider his next move.

The ex-preacher and Will Tanner were sitting playing chess at a table in the far corner of Vin's bedroom and, apart from the small lamp beside them, the room was in relative darkness. It was approaching ten in the evening and Nathan Jackson had returned to town some hours earlier, although the healer hadn't been relishing the prospect of having to speak to Chris Larabee about barring the gunslinger from the sick man's bedside. The dark-skinned peacekeeper wasn't sure what his friend's reaction would be, but Josiah had spoken privately to Nathan before the younger man had left and predicted that Chris would probably distance himself from the Cummings' ranch until Vin was fit to return to town.

Andrew MacIntyre had finally been persuaded to take a few hours' break, a decision made easier because the morphine had made Vin sleep for longer than anticipated, although the doctor had managed to rouse his patient sufficiently to get some of Nathan's herbal tea and water into the man. The three men had been taking turns throughout the day caring for the tracker, but they knew that the fever still had a firm grip on the young Texan, and the concerned Scottish physician had been adamant that he would stay all night with Vin.

While Josiah and MacIntyre went to have dinner with the Cummings' family, the blond security boss had sat with his son, keeping himself busily occupied by cleaning and sharpening his father's old knife, as the tracker dozed. Once the big peacekeeper had returned, the two older men had set up the chessboard as they tended Vin and waited to be relieved by the doctor at midnight.

The cloaking darkness seemed to be swallowing Vin up, and no matter where his fearful eyes rested he couldn't find more than a tiny sliver of light through a minute crack. It was hot too. The thick sweltering heat wrapped itself around his entire body, making it difficult to breathe and, even though he managed to suck in some sultry air, his lungs still felt tight and starved of oxygen. When would his grandfather come for him?

The old man had seen the riders approach the cabin, and Vin saw the alarm on his Grandpa's features, as he'd frantically pushed the boy into the secret compartment under the cabin floor. The frightened eight-year old watched with wide trusting blue eyes as his beloved grandfather knelt down to talk to him.

"Ya'll be safe in here, boy. Jes' keep quiet, y'hear? I'll get ya out in no time." As he spoke the old man lowered the trapdoor into place, and then placed the table and two chairs over the concealed enclosure.

The scared youngster recognised the sound of the cabin door opening, and he then heard the voices of several men raised in anger. A sudden loud bang made him whimper, and cramming his fists to his mouth to silence his terror, he strained to hear the reassuring tones of the one person he loved the most. More crashing sounds followed, and then he flinched at the noisy creaking of wood coming under great stress before something thumped to the floor causing the whole timber cabin to shake. The deafening bangs and crashes continued for some time, until the boy heard the heavy footsteps eventually disappear.

Vin's breath was coming in fast, ragged gulps, but he tried to calm himself as he listened for any sign of movement. His small hands pushed on the weighty trapdoor, but the wood never budged an inch. Forcing down the panic that was starting to rise, he shifted his squashed body upwards to try and move the covering but, as his questing fingers went over the rough sawn planks, they encountered something sticky. Vin gave a scared gasp as a warm, wet blob dripped on his forehead and his tongue flicked out instinctively when he felt something trickle down his nose.

Blood! Was he hurt? He was wedged into the small space so tightly it was virtually impossible to move even his arms, but he finally managed to get a hand to his head to feel for any injury. No — he wasn't hurt, although he felt pain and sickness to his stomach, and his back was beginning to cramp with agonising spasms.

'Grandpa? Are ya there? I'm stuck, Grandpa!' Realisation of whose blood it was suddenly struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he started to hysterically kick and scrabble with his legs and hands, in an effort to get out of his suffocating prison.

"Noo! Lemme out!"

"Noo! Lemme out!"

The tracker's terrified cry split the tranquillity of the room, and Josiah and Tanner immediately went over to the bed, their alarm evident as they saw the frantic actions of the distressed man.

Vin was caught in a feverish nightmare but as he kicked away the sheet covering him, his hands came up to frenetically tear at his hair and face. The delirious Texan was trying to brush off an invisible substance and, a sharp fingernail had already gouged a long ragged scratch down his cheek, the blood now freely mixing with the sweat rolling down his face. A mere five minutes previous the tracker had been peacefully sleeping, propped partially on his side with two long feather bolsters wedged under his back. Now the man had squirmed off of the supportive pillows, unconsciously pushing the restrictive bedding to the edge of the mattress, as he tried to get away from some unseen danger.

Josiah distractedly swept away the pillows and, grabbing hold of the tracker's wrists, he sat on the side of the bed as he attempted to calm the panic-stricken man. "Easy there, brother. You're gonna hurt yourself like that! Vin, you're safe. Try and relax now."

The ex-preacher's soothing voice had no effect on Vin as he continued to thrash around in the bed. The tracker's damp, tousled head tossed back and forth on the pillowcase and he panted rapidly, almost as if he were suffocating. The Texan was completely lost in the disturbing dream, and nothing penetrated through the smothering maelstrom as the horrific vision played itself out.

"It's... dark! Lord, why's it s'hot? I cain't... breathe! Grandpa....? Grandpa, where... are ya?" The tracker asked in a small, almost childlike voice. A trickle of perspiration had gathered in the hollow at the base of Vin's throat, and as his Adams apple bobbed wildly, the sweat ran a winding path down his neck.

The security boss had lit the lamp on the bedside table and, perching on the other side of the mattress, he reached for a cloth and began wiping Vin's face, dabbing carefully at the bloodied furrow. The cloth constantly dipped into the basin as Will Tanner sponged the fevered tracker, and he spoke continuously as he tried to settle the agitated and delusional man. "Steady, Vin. C'mon, son, jes' open them eyes, an' ya'll see that yer alright. Vin! Wake up! Yer not in any danger. Try an' breathe slower...that's good, yer doin' a mite better now, son," the blond Texan murmured in approval, as the cold water had the desired effect and Vin's breathing slowed to a shallow, even cadence.

Tanner's cupped hand supported behind the tracker's neck as he worked but Vin's back suddenly arched, his whole body going rigid as a new threat intruded through the swirling mists of the hallucination. With a strangled cry his eyes flew open, and he stared upwards at an invisible foe as he desperately fought to get his hands free from Josiah's firm grip.

"It's blood! Oh no, please... don't hurt 'im!" the tracker pleaded, frowning in confusion as he struggled against the two muscular men. Twisting his head around, his wild gaze immediately locked on the shadowed profile of the blond security boss, but his horror-filled eyes didn't seem to recognise the older man.

"Grandpa, yer back! I'm trapped! Lemme out!" Vin yelled hoarsely and, managing to extricate a hand, he grasped Tanner's shirt as he tried to drag himself upright.

The older Texan carefully prised his son's clenched hand away and, with Josiah's help, the pair managed to get the tracker lying back in bed. As abruptly as the episode had started Vin suddenly quietened and, relaxing against the pillow, he gave a shuddering sigh as he drifted back to sleep.

Josiah bent down to inspect the packed surgical incision, relieved that the younger man hadn't caused any further injury to the open wound. "Thank God! Don't ask me how, but the dressings are still in place," he murmured to the other man.

After straightening the tangled bedding and turning over the sodden pillow, Josiah glanced up at the shocked-looking security boss. The man was standing stock still and seemed lost in thought, almost as if he couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard. Pushing aside his own confusion for the moment, the big peacekeeper leaned over the tracker, briefly feeling the sleeping man's forehead. "Damn! I think his fever's still rising, so we may have more incidents like this. Lord that was some nightmare, though! Sound's like he thought you were his grandfather," Josiah commented softly.

Tanner nodded mutely and, as he went over to the washstand to get fresh water, he could feel the other man's puzzled eyes on him. Returning with the basin he squeezed out the cloth and tenderly washed the tracker's face, neck and bare chest, although he remained silent, ignoring the big peacekeeper's unspoken question.

"I've seen Vin sick and fevered several times, but he ain't ever cried out for his kinfolks before," Josiah quietly remarked, as he stared at his younger friend. The ex-preacher rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he continued. "Fact of the matter is, he normally looks for Chris so it's surprising that he didn't call out for him, especially when you think back to what happened this morning. Unless something triggered off a buried memory from childhood. You're his father, what do you think, Will?"

The Texan rinsed the cloth out again, and then folded it lengthways before laying it across Vin's forehead. "Fever twists the mind, Josiah. Reckon I look like m'pa, an' I ain't much younger now than he was when he died. Vin loved that old man, so I bet it was jes' a natural mistake."

"I know it's not really any of my business, Will, but how did your father die? Was Vin with him when he passed away, or had he already left by then?" The ex-preacher sensed that the other was feeling uncomfortable with what had just occurred, but he was determined to find out as many facts as he could, particularly if it helped ease the obviously troubled man in the bed.

With a sigh, Tanner got to his feet, and beckoned Josiah over to the abandoned chess game. Casting an anxious look back at the tracker, the blond Texan sat down and picking up the black king from the board he rolled the piece between two fingers as he considered his reply.

"This is jes' 'tween us, Josiah. I don't want any of m'friends here knowing this, 'cos Robert Cummings might force me t'leave if he found out. Do I have yer word on that?" Tanner asked.

"Of course. A man's past is his own, but I'm only asking 'cos I want t'help my friend."

"If I thought any different, then I wouldn't be tellin' ya!" Tanner snapped in a hostile voice, as he hurled down the chess piece.

Josiah smiled placidly as he sat down, ignoring the other man's sudden show of temper as he glanced across at the slumbering peacekeeper.

"Damn! I'm sorry, Josiah," the security boss muttered in a chagrined tone. "Reckon things've got me rattled — y'know, wit' Vin being so sick 'n' all. This' bin as hard fer me, as it has fer the boy. P'rhaps this makes me sound like a real selfish bastard, but I'd never realised how tough it can be seein' someone ya care about suffer."

"I do understand, Will. But I believe that Vin's physical pain is nothing compared to his inner torment, which is why I'm so keen to try and help him come to terms with some of this."

"Yeah, it does seem like he's totin' a whole pile of grief 'round. I guess th' boy never talked much of his folks, huh? Hell, he thought everyone was dead!" Tanner stated ruefully, shaking his head slowly as he remembered the tracker's shocked reaction to his own admission nearly a week ago. The blond Texan took a deep breath as he continued. "Vin was eight when m'pa was killed, an' the boy must'a bin there when it happened. I found out 'bout it more than a year later, but I couldn't do anything fer Vin. I was told that some folks had taken him in, an' I jes' hoped the boy was happy an' being well cared fer. Y'see Josiah, I was locked away for taking part in a robbery. Twenty years, hard labour! By the time I got out an' returned to the homestead, Vin was long gone from the area. He would'a bin comin' up fer twenty-two years by then — a man all growed! I tried to track his movements, but the trail was cold, an' after a while I gave up searching. Mebbe I should'a kept on lookin' instead of heading fer Kansas."

"We've all done things we're not proud of, but what happened to Vin was beyond your control. Did you ever discover who killed your father, or why? Wasn't there an investigation into his death?" Josiah wanted to know.

"Probably. But we're talkin' 'bout the passing of many years, an' with the war falling 'tween it happening an' me going back....waal, y'can imagine the kinda problems I was up against. I guess the motive wuz robbery, 'cos far as I know, he didn't have any enemies. There warn't much for me to go on an' I never really got anywhere with my own inquiries. Most o' the folks who'd known pa were dead, an' some of the real old timers' jes' plain couldn't remember!" The Texan ran his hands through his blond hair, glancing once more at the sleeping tracker.

The peacekeeper nodded knowingly. The War Between the States had caused much upheaval, especially in the Southern states, and many old records and official documents had been either destroyed or lost. "It sounds like there are still a lot of unanswered questions but, after all this time, I doubt if the truth will ever be known. Do you think Vin saw something that day?"

Will Tanner chewed on his lip as he thought over the ex-preacher's words. Finally he shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know! I'd allus hoped he'd bin someplace else when pa... waal, now seeing what jes' happened, I'm not so sure. Me an' the boy've bin talking a lot these last few days—y'know—family things t'do wit' his ma an' grandpa. Mebbe, it's brought summat to the surface. Reckon he's never spoke 'bout it to ya'll, huh?"

"Nope. Vin can be quite secretive, and he doesn't really talk much about personal matters." Josiah was reasonably confident that if the tracker had spoken to anyone about his childhood it would be Chris Larabee, but it wasn't the ex-preacher's place to conjecture, especially with the animosity between the gunslinger and Will Tanner.

"Hmm. I'd rather ya didn't mention this t'him — 'less he asks — 'cos I ain't sure I want t'push him fer now. I never expected t'hear this, but..." Tanner's voice trailed off, and getting to his feet he went to the window, pulling the curtain aside and staring out into the darkness. The room was quiet for a while and, apart from the tracker's soft breathing, the only other sound was the distant muffled voices of the Cummings' family downstairs. Releasing the heavy curtain, the Texan went to perch on the side of the bed and, leaning closer to the sleeping man, he put a fatherly hand on Vin's flushed cheek.

"It sounds like he may hold the answers to many questions that I've asked myself over the years. I owe it to m'pa to try an' put things right, an' the boy deserves happiness too," Tanner whispered, his thumb absently tracing around the tracker's stubbly jaw line. "Dammit Josiah! If only I'd bin around t'protect 'em. Pa might still be alive, an' Vin would'a had his family. Mebbe things might'a bin a heap better fer the boy in future years, an' p'rhaps he wouldn't've ended up wit' a price on his head."

There was no mistaking the element of self-reproach in the security boss' hushed statement, and Josiah was suddenly convinced that the other man had a genuine kindred affection for the long-haired peacekeeper. Although, having now acknowledged this fact, the ex-preacher still wanted to make his own checks on the older Texan once he returned to town.

"He's told you about Tascosa then?"

Tanner nodded slowly, picking up the faint trace of surprise in the other's quietly ambiguous question. "Some," the security boss admitted.

"So you also believe he's innocent?" Josiah asked guardedly. He was fairly certain that the older man had no intention of trying to collect the five hundred dollar bounty on Vin Tanner's head, but it always paid to be doubly sure.

"If the boy says he is — then that's good 'nough fer me! Truth is, Vin ain't really said a great deal 'bout it, jes' that he was set-up fer a murder he didn't commit. I cain't help thinkin' that I might'a bin able t'stop that comin' t'pass if we'd bin together. Hell," Tanner snorted, "that's jes' another thing weighin' heavily on m'conscience! Y'know Josiah, there's a whole pile of stuff that I regret doing over the years, but losing contact wit' m'family is prob'ly my biggest sin."

"That's a demon you have to wrestle with on your own, Will. Only you can make your peace with God for turning your back on your only son."

"Waal, I ain't one fer hitting the floor in church and beggin' forgiveness from the Lord, Josiah. Vin needed me an' I let him down. It's as simple as that."

"Dwelling on past mistakes achieves nothing, Will, but I think you recognise that," Josiah stated succinctly. "None of us have a say in what shapes our future, but I know that I feel honoured and privileged to call Vin Tanner a friend. Perhaps he was meant to endure all that hardship in his early years, and his difficult path in life was decreed by God to bring him to this place and point in time. I believe in Fate, my friend, and we seven peacekeepers seem to be intertwined with each other, although Vin and Chris in particular do share a unique friendship. Will, I know you and he haven't got off to a friendly start, but trust me when I say that Chris has your son's welfare at heart and Vin's illness, along with your presence, has brought that man's protective instinct to the surface."

"Yeah, I know. Reckon this may sound a mite strange, but I envy Larabee fer his relationship wit' Vin. I could play the 'if only' game fer the rest o' m'life, but it won't change anything. All I can hope fer now is the boy's respect an' trust, 'though I know there's some that would say I shouldn't expect anything from him. Whatever happens though, Josiah, at the end o' th'day Vin's still m'kin—the blood runnin' through our veins is the same. And there ain't no-one who can take that away from me!" Tanner spoke quietly, but his last comment was forceful and there was nothing the ex-preacher could say in response.

The two men worked in silence for some time, their game of chess forgotten as they continued to bathe Vin. The tracker was still feverish, but his previously fitful movements had ceased, and he appeared to be resting easier in a deep sleep.

Josiah leaned back wearily in his chair, glancing at the small carriage clock on the mantelpiece as he stretched and flexed his long legs out in front of him. Eleven thirty. Andrew MacIntyre would take over his patient's care at midnight, but the ex-preacher was experienced at nursing the sick through a fever, and he was sure that his friend's temperature hadn't reached its peak yet. The dedicated Scottish physician would have his work cut out for him this night, although as the big peacekeeper covertly watched the security boss pull another clean towel and bed-sheet from the spare linen pile, he felt sure that Will Tanner wouldn't be leaving the tracker's bedside until his son's fever broke.

"Why don't ya go catch some shut-eye, Josiah? I'll be fine here 'til Andrew comes back, an' it makes sense fer one o' us t'be rested t'take over in the mornin'," the Texan suggested softly, as he shook out the large towel.

The ex-preacher gazed thoughtfully at the man in the bed for a few seconds before getting to his feet. "Yep. You have a very good point there. Let me give you a hand with that first, and then I'll go and rest."

After helping Tanner to replace the damp towel under Vin's head and torso and adjust the fresh sheet covering him, Josiah quietly left the room. The peacekeeper had learned much tonight and, although he tended to believe what he'd been told, he still had an uneasy feeling that Will Tanner was holding something back. As the ex-preacher reached the small guest bedroom that Bruce Soames had prepared for him he gave a wry smile. For all his own puzzled musings and the blatant suspicions from Chris Larabee at Tanner's motives for being in the area, the ultimate choice about the blond Texan's parental entitlement would rest with Vin. If the long-haired peacekeeper accepted and wanted to be with his father, then no man could interfere with the tracker's decision. Josiah knew deep down that this was a major part of the reason behind the gunslinger's explosive animosity towards Tanner senior.

The black dressed man had formed a strong emotional attachment to Vin Tanner, an intense friendship that few men ever achieved in a lifetime, and a relationship that was difficult to understand fully. In return the tracker had embraced and basked in the offered comradeship with an eagerness that would have astounded any of his previous acquaintances. The solitary life of first a bounty hunter and then, in turn, the hunted criminal, had made the tracker reticent about people, but on meeting Chris Larabee the shy Texan had slowly withdrawn from his shell; the man had finally learned to trust. It was the merging of two like for like personalities, the sharing of an inner faith and the unquestioning confidence in each other that brought out the best in both men. They had gained a great deal from each other, but the shrewd ex-preacher knew that the gunslinger could now sense all this slipping away — and it was clear that Chris didn't like the feeling of emptiness this gave him inside.

With a heartfelt sigh, Josiah laid down on the comfortable bed, clasping his hands behind his head as he tried to relax. There was nothing anyone could do for now, but at least the situation would remain at a status quo for some weeks, or at least until Vin was fit enough to travel again. After that, they were in unknown territory, but Josiah was certain that Will Tanner wanted to return to Texas or, more specifically, the Tanner homestead, and it was clear that he would like his son to journey with him.

Change was in the air for all seven peacekeepers. Nathan yearned to marry Rain and, if he were able to learn from and have the continuing patronage of the highly qualified Andrew MacIntyre, then the healer would possibly be able to fulfil his dream to become a certified doctor; which in turn would give him the means to offer the Seminole girl a secure future.

Another of his friends he expected to hear exciting news about was Ezra Standish. The Southerner was spending most of his free time with Fiona Cummings, and Josiah couldn't recall ever seeing the younger man so serenely confident and happy. The Scotswoman had, in such a short space of time, done what no other person had managed to do; she had given the self-doubting and often emotionally tortured gambler her unconditional love, which had bestowed an inner contentment and peace of mind on the man. Ezra and Fiona made a perfect couple, and it wouldn't surprise the ex-preacher if he were soon asked to perform a marriage ceremony for the besotted pair. Yes, things were certainly going to alter dramatically in the not too distant future, Josiah mused sleepily as his eyes slid shut and he finally drifted off.

It was the raucous crowing of a rooster heralding the new day that eventually roused Vin Tanner from sleep. The tracker's eyes were bleary and, blinking rapidly several times, he tried to dislodge the crustiness from his eyelashes as he began to make a slow assessment of his physical state. His head thumped relentlessly, and he likened the ache to a hangover, which would certainly explain why his mouth and throat felt so dry and sore. Had he drunk too much whiskey at the saloon last night? Vin clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and then ran it experimentally along his parched, cracked lips, wondering why he felt so thirsty. His vision had cleared a little, but the bedroom was dark, except for a muted brown glow where the curtains were drawn across a window and, as he cautiously lifted his head, he suddenly recalled where he was. A dark, shadowy figure in the corner of the room seemed familiar and, as the anonymous person looked up, Vin immediately recognised his friend.

"J'siah!"

At the sound of the weak and croaky call, Josiah Sanchez rose from the easy chair by the fireplace, and opened the heavy drapes a little. Brightness poured into the room and, hissing in a shaky breath at the painful glare, Vin slammed his eyes shut again, turning his head away from the brilliant sunlight.

"Sorry, son," Josiah apologised softly as he quickly re-adjusted the curtains, and then crossed to light a small lamp on the bedside table. Pouring water into the china flagon, the big peacekeeper offered the drinking spout to his friend, supporting the Texan's head as the man greedily sucked up the cold liquid.

"Not too much for the moment, Vin. You can have some more when I'm sure you won't bring it all up again," the ex-preacher cautioned in a kindly voice, as he placed the vessel back on the table.

Vin scowled indignantly as the water disappeared from his line of sight, but he had no strength to even try and move his hand across to retrieve the drink, and now that his thirst was partially quenched he felt lethargy spreading through him. Even the small effort of thinking took up too much energy and, although he was unsure of what had occurred, he lay quietly, briefly smiling in gratitude as Josiah pulled the quilt up to his chin. The tracker gave a blissful sigh as he allowed his exhausted body to sink back down into the warm, comfortable bed.

He must have dozed for some considerable time, because the next thing Vin was aware of was the cold spout resting on his lips once again and, automatically drinking the water, he rested his puzzled eyes on Josiah's craggy features. Finally he'd had enough, and he surprised even himself by bringing his hand up and pushing away the flagon.

At this second time of waking his head didn't hurt as much as it had before, but as this ache retreated he was aware of the soreness — and a bulky pressure—around his middle. Despite the dull pain, Vin felt remote and detached from his body, almost as if he were floating in warm soothing water, and he lay quiet and still as Josiah wrung out a small cloth and began sponging his eyes, face and neck.

The older man could easily read the growing confusion in his friend's features, but he wisely waited for the tracker to speak; the younger man was obviously disorientated and the ex-preacher wanted the other to be more lucid before he filled him in on the events of the last twenty-four hours.

Vin stayed silent, meekly allowing his colleague to care for him — not that he had the energy to object—although he was getting used to being shaved and washed by another person following his illness. This peaceful interlude gave him time to gather his thoughts and, glancing around the room, he saw the heavy curtains were half open, although the long lacy drapes behind them were still pulled across, gently filtering the bright sunshine. The tracker's eyes fell upon the clock and he saw the time was nine-thirty. It was morning then. But how did Josiah come to be at the Cummings' ranch at such an early hour?

A smile tugged at the tracker's mouth as he heard a rooster crow. "Sounds like he's as addled as me! Ain't anyone told 'im he's s'posed t'holler at dawn"?

"Evidently not," Josiah murmured, as he carefully dried the Texan's face, and then straightened the bedding.

"W... what's wrong, Josiah? Summat's... happened, ain't it?" Vin asked hesitantly.

He was sure that some momentous event had taken place, but the fever-induced fog still clouded his mind, and no matter how hard he tried to recall what had happened he just couldn't seem to remember. Before Josiah had a chance to reply Vin's breath quickened, and panic lit up his eyes. "Chris! He's hurt, ain't he? Dammit, I gotta see him! Let me up, Josiah!"

Josiah hastily restrained the tracker as the anxious man tried to struggle upright. "Oh no you don't! Just relax, son! Chris is back in town, and he's fine. You're the one who's sick. Vin, you've been feverish, and in and out of consciousness since eleven o'clock yesterday morning. You gave us all quite a scare, my friend."

The room was quiet as the tracker digested the other's statement. Hazy images of Josiah, MacIntyre and his father popped into his mind, and Vin was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't even object when the big peacekeeper placed a hand on his forehead.

"Hmm. You're much cooler now, which will please Andrew," the ex-preacher grunted in satisfaction. "How do you feel, son?"

"I'm fi..." the tracker's standard response was cut off by the snort of disbelief that his friend let out. "Uh...Like I bin fighting wit' an orn'ry ole grizzly!" he hastily amended.

"Yep, I imagine that's a pretty fair comparison," chuckled the older man.

"I jes' feel so damned tired, Josiah!"

"That's your body's way of telling you to rest. Once you begin eating again, you'll start building up your strength. But it's only water for you for the time being," Josiah asserted with a wry smile.

Picking up the empty water flagon, the big peacekeeper crossed to the washstand to refill the vessel, suddenly unsure of how he should broach the subject of Vin's dispute with the gunslinger. The last thing he wanted to do was distress the sick tracker, but things needed to be put into perspective if the young Texan was to reconcile all that had happened. This was the perfect opportunity for a frank and private conversation, so the ex-preacher resolved to make it his priority to help the beleaguered man.

Returning to the bed once more, the older man perched on the edge of the mattress as he deliberated over the problem. Coming to a decision, Josiah took a deep breath and smiled solicitously at his friend. "Vin, do you recall talking with Chris?" he gently asked.

"I...Chris? Noo...What...? When was he...?" Vin frowned, knowing he wasn't making much sense, and his raspy voice trailed off as he desperately tried to retrieve the fragmented memory.

"Aw, damn!"

It was as if a rain-swollen river had burst its banks, as the recollection of his and Chris' argument suddenly came flooding back to the tracker with amazing clarity. Outrage, despair and even guilt washed over him as he dwelled on the angry comments he'd traded with his friend the previous day and, turning his head away from Josiah's compassionate gaze, he closed his eyes to try and blot out the details of the bitter quarrel.

Vin's stomach gave a sickly gurgle and, he swallowed convulsively as the gunslinger's furious accusations repeated over and over in his head. A loud buzzing grew in his ears and he felt light-headed, but he paid little attention to the rising discomfort of his body as he vainly struggled to sort out his jumbled emotions. He felt hollow, empty inside, like part of his soul had been ripped from him, and there seemed to be a gaping void in his heart. Well, he recognised that sensation, as it was similar to the lonely, purposeless ache he'd known before coming to Four Corners and meeting Chris Larabee. There were no words to adequately describe his feelings, so the dispirited man remained still, too mentally wrung out to either move or speak.

"Vin? Do you feel sick? Is your stomach hurting? Talk to me, son. I don't really want to disturb Andrew, seein' as he's only been abed for two hours." The ex-preacher had seen what little colour there was in the Texan's face drain away completely, and he was now alarmed by his friend's lack of response. Picking up the drinking flagon again, Josiah put the spout to Vin's tightly closed mouth. "Have some more water. C'mon, son, open up," he coaxed firmly. The older man's features creased with worry, as his free hand came to rest on the tracker's slack wrist.

"Hell! Don't you dare pass out on me! Listen to me, Vin! You need to keep calm. Now, just open your mouth and drink!"

At this last imperious command the tracker stirred a little and, as Vin obediently began drinking the cold liquid, Josiah could feel his friend's pulse slowing to a more normal rate.

"Good. That's more like it! Andrew won't be too happy if you get yourself all worked up and collapse again. That young man is a committed doctor, and he was with you all last night, nursing you until your fever broke at six this morning. Vin, you've been fighting an infection, and you need to stay quiet and still, 'cos there's a gaping big hole in your belly, which is letting the poison come out. That's it. Now you're doing better! Have you had enough?" Josiah asked, as the younger man stopped sucking on the spout.

Vin nodded vaguely, still not trusting himself to speak as his anguished blue eyes stared up at the ceiling. It seemed like his life was spiralling out of control, and he felt totally stifled by the present circumstances. All he wanted to do was leave, to get away from everyone and find some peace and solitude in the open range as he tried to untangle his chaotic emotions. The weakness of his body appalled and frustrated him, although it wasn't only the cloying and oppressively cautious medical care that made him feel like running. He was wound up tight, like a rattler about to strike, and it felt like he was being torn in two while being subtly forced to choose between his closest friend and his father. Why was Chris doing this to him?

Josiah could sense the distress in the Texan and, perching on the bed, he began to try and help the tormented man. "None of this has been easy on you and I know you're upset Vin, but it will help if you talk about it. You know anything you tell me is private between us, a bit like the confessional! After all, 'a priest is a priest forever'"—Josiah quoted with a wry smile — "and it seems like you need a friendly ear, son."

Vin stayed silent, turning his head away from his older friend as he deliberately ignored the ex-preacher. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone? There was nothing to be gained from talking, the tracker thought wearily. Look where that had got him with Chris Larabee!

"I can't help you get through this if you won't speak to me, brother," Josiah said sympathetically. With a sigh, he gently squeezed Vin's hand, relieved that the Texan didn't recoil from the physical contact. "Vin, let me tell you something that seems particularly relevant to you at the moment. 'A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a downcast spirit dries up the bones.' Son, you need to put your affairs in order before you're able to pull yourself through this ordeal."

"Ya speak in riddles, preacher! Go pester someone else and jes' leave me be!" Vin spat out hotly.

The older peacekeeper wasn't going to give in that easily. "I can't do that, my friend. There are many people, in this house and back in town, who are concerned for your physical health and well-being, but this sickness of the soul is more my domain. Vin, are you worried about Chris' reaction to your father?"

"Yeah!" the tracker blurted out at length. Now that he had begun to open up to the older man, it was like a breached dam, and the angry bitterness he felt at the unsettling state of affairs came pouring forth. "It ain't like Chris to act like this, Josiah! I really thought I knew him, but now I ain't so sure. Reckon I thought he'd be happy fer me—y'know, now that I've got m'family, but all he keeps doing is tossin' accusations 'round about Will. I cain't figure out why he don't trust m'pa. I do. So why won't he jes' accept m'judgement?" Vin asked unhappily.

The big peacekeeper nodded gravely as he considered the question. Josiah had his own doubts about Will Tanner's reasons for seeking out his son, but he wouldn't dream of sharing his views with Vin, unless he had unequivocal proof of the older Texan's lack of integrity. However, this was neither the time nor the place to muddle things even further, as the ex-preacher wanted to give as much reassurance to the bewildered tracker as he could. Josiah's tone was gentle as he finally answered his friend.

"It's no secret that Chris thinks that Will is involved in something shifty, but I think our friend is more worried that he'll persuade you to go back to Texas. We all believe you were framed and are innocent of the crime in Tascosa, but with the warrant on your head...well, it's rather like Daniel going in with the lions. Chris won't openly admit it, definitely not to you, and probably not even to himself, but he's concerned about your safety." Josiah paused, fussily adjusting the blanket over his naked friend as he searched for the right words. "Brother Vin," the ex-preacher continued, "perhaps this is a heavy burden for you to bear, but Chris has appointed himself your protector — to watch your back—and he takes the responsibility very seriously. All this, especially with you being so sick, has made that man act out of character. Of course, this is only my opinion, but it grieves me to see the pair of you out of sorts with one another."

Vin shifted a little in the bed as he thought over the wisdom of his friend's words. "Chris is wrong—'bout a lot o' things. I ain't aimin' to go back t'Texas jes' yet, 'cos 'til I get proof that Eli Joe set me up, waal...figure a judge ain't gonna be listening to the word of a man who ran in the first place. That don't mean I ain't never gonna return to Grendon though. Will's told me where m'ma's grave is, an' I reckon its bin some years since Rosie Tanner had some flowers put next t'her name. Its jes'...I feel I have to... I guess this sounds a mite crazy, Josiah, but I can hardly 'member her now, an'...an' it's like I need to see fer m'self that she's really gone. Does that make sense?"

"I can see from your face that you think it shouldn't, but I believe it does. Vin, you were very young — just a baby really — when your mother died, and a child doesn't understand death. Yes, you missed her and wanted her to be with you again, but the outward signs that we exhibit in adulthood to come to terms with loss, were denied you. Your father has now come back into your life and, of course, he's spoken of family matters, which has stirred up many forgotten things in you. Son, it's only natural that you want to use this new knowledge that you've gained to try and bring some closure to your past, and that includes visiting your mother's final resting place. Perhaps you need the opportunity to finally mourn her untimely passing."

"Hmm, mebbe," the tracker murmured. He was silent for several minutes, as his mind went over the recent conversations he'd had with Will Tanner. Thinking again about the stormy argument with Chris, fear suddenly gripped Vin as he wondered what his father's reaction had been when he'd been told about the gunslinger's participation in his collapse.

Josiah's brow furrowed in puzzlement at the sudden look of horror on Vin's features, and he quickly clamped his hand to the younger man's wrist once more. The big peacekeeper felt the Texan's pulse leap erratically, and he spoke in a soothing tone as he prepared to deal with yet another problem. "Vin? Steady, son. You're letting this get to you, when all you should be doing is resting."

"Where's Will? Dammit, Josiah, he'll go after Chris! He'll blame him fer this! I've gotta warn Chris!" The tracker kicked at the bedding, dragging his hand away from the ex-preacher, as he began to push himself upright.

"That's enough now!" Josiah said sharply, as he grasped his frantically struggling friend in a bear-like hug. "Vin, Chris is safe! He's safe, you hear? And Will's asleep just along the corridor, 'cos he sat with you all last night too! You must stay calm, otherwise Andrew will force a sleeping draught down you, and your father won't be too happy either. Stop fighting me, son—or you'll just undo all of the doc's hard work. Vin!"

Neither of the peacekeepers heard the bedroom door open and, as Bruce Soames entered carrying a small tray, the white-faced tracker finally sagged in exhaustion against his older friend. The ex-preacher could feel Vin shaking from the exertion and, carefully easing the younger man back onto the pillows, his studied gaze noted the dark circles around his friend's eyes. The time for talking was over; what the tracker's body craved now was sleep, and Josiah was determined to see the man got the rest he so desperately needed. Picking up the washcloth, he began to wipe droplets of sweat from the Texan's face, whilst talking in a softened tone.

"Don't you worry, there are plenty of folks around to make sure those two are kept apart. Chris can look out for himself, but I think you're over-reacting, which isn't surprising considering all that's happened. Vin, I know you've got a lot to think about, but for now, you've just got to settle down and have a sleep. Everything will appear different as your strength returns, and then once you're fully recovered, you can get some balance back into your life." Josiah glanced up at the steward, nodding briefly in thanks as the other placed a cup of coffee on the small table.

"Try to relax now, and let your body drift. That's good. You're doing just fine, son." The big peacekeeper's rich, melodious voice had got deeper and quieter as he worked, and the calming actions with the damp cloth reinforced his soporific words. The younger man's eyelids began to flutter closed, and Josiah smiled in satisfaction as Vin's breathing levelled out. Within a few minutes the tracker was soundly sleeping and, after checking his friend's condition once again, the big peacekeeper adjusted the quilt over the man before rising to join the Scotsman by the window.

"Thank the Lord he's drifted off at last!" Josiah exclaimed in a hushed voice.

Bruce Soames indicated the cup of coffee, glancing across at the slumbering tracker. "Aye—sleeps the best medicine known to man. I only caught the end of all that. I take it he thinks Will's out to get Chris, 'cause of the mishap yesterday?" he quietly asked the other man.

Josiah took several gulps of the hot drink before replying. "Yep. He's got good reason as well. Will Tanner appears to have a fairly quick and vicious temper, and I don't think he's a man to readily forgive either. Not only that, he seems to be exploiting the concerned father routine a little too much for my liking. Didn't you notice yesterday, how one of the first things he demanded of Andrew was to keep Chris away from Vin? I think he perceives Chris as a threat to his own relationship with Vin, and the man is certainly determined to ensure he has no interference from anyone, as he involves himself in his son's life."

"Yer making it all sound rather sinister, Josiah. Do you doubt that Will is Vin's dadie then? I dinna think yer correct if that is yer thinkin', 'cause even the Godliest man would be hard pushed to exhibit that amount of concern for a virtual stranger! Not only that, there's too much of a family likeness, and ...ahem...no disrespect meant to Vin, but it's not like the laddie has anything material to his name. Ye know, like property or a business that might make an unscrupulous family member suddenly arrive on the scene with the idea of inheriting money. And I can assure you, mon — I've seen plenty of that in my years of service with the aristocracy!"

"No, he's definitely kin. Despite what Chris thinks, we have to accept that."

"Weel then, ye canna fault Will fer his deeds thus far, 'cause he's continually stuck his neck out to help that lad. Did ye know that MacIntyre said that Vin's appendix had nigh on reached bursting point? If Will hadna taken such prompt action, ye'd have been burying that lad at some point during this week."

"I know," Josiah murmured, automatically crossing himself as he thought about the narrowly averted tragedy. "There's no denying that Vin owes his life to Will, but it just feels like something doesn't quite add up. And it's the timing of all this that has me worried, Bruce. Vin is quite vulnerable at the moment — because of his illness — and I feel that Will is taking advantage of that. I know that boy quite well, and he would normally be as suspicious as Chris; he's very wary of people, but he's letting his heart rule his head in this instance. Now, I'm not saying that's a bad thing — Lord, there would be a lot less strife and anger in the world if that were so — but Vin isn't usually so trusting. And he's generally an excellent judge of character too!"

Soames smoothed the lacy cloth covering the table, idly flicking off imaginary dust specks as he considered the peacekeeper's statement. "Aye, I can feel that in the laddie, sick or no. I've spent a wee bit of time with him this past week, an' if Vin were my son, I know I'd want to get to know him better, perhaps try to make up fer the lost years. Ye canna blame Will fer tryin' t'have a family, Josiah. Personally, — and I'm not jes' saying this 'cause Will's a friend — I think Chris is the one who's stepping out of line, as all the pushing seems to be coming from him, whereas Will hasn't pressurised Vin at all."

"Not overtly, no. But he is causing dissent between those two men — I just can't work out if it's intentional, though! And moreover, what does he hope to gain by driving a wedge through Vin and Chris' friendship? Is that any way to gain the respect and trust of a newly found son? No, Bruce, there's something not quite right about all this but, whatever happens, we have no right to interfere. I think Vin has much soul searching and some pretty important decisions to make in the near future and, I think even in his current physical state, he knows that. I just pray that he looks at all the facts objectively and makes his choices for the right reasons."

The two men were thoughtfully silent for a while as the peacekeeper finished his half forgotten coffee. Bruce Soames had gathered up all the soiled towels and bedding that had been discarded in the corner and as Josiah got up to open the door for the departing steward, the Scotsman nodded with his head to the sleeping Texan.

"He looks pretty worn out, and I imagine he'll sleep for several hours. Why don't ye take a break, Josiah? Lizzie has just started making broth fer Vin's lunch, but the shortbread she cooked earlier is cool enough to eat. A man hasna lived 'til he's sampled that woman's baking! We usually have coffee and biscuits at eleven, and I know it's early but,"—the burly steward winked conspiratorially — "you look in need of summat stronger! How about a wee dram o' malt? His Lordship has a bottle of thirty year-old Glenlivet that's jes' beggin' t'be sampled!"

"You surely know how to lead a man into temptation, Bruce! Lead the way, my friend. It looks as though Vin is back on the trail of recovery, so I intend to return home this afternoon, as the others will be chomping at the bit for news on him. I'll wait until Andrew has seen him, though, 'cos if I don't give Nathan a precise and detailed report on the boy's condition, I'll probably end up needing a doctor's expertise!"

The ex-preacher gave a wry grin and, as the Scotsman left the room, Josiah paused to close the heavy curtains before crossing to the bed. Vin hadn't stirred at all as the two men had talked and, after pulling the quilt up to the tracker's chin, the big peacekeeper briefly felt the sleeping man's forehead. The skin was cool and dry, and the older man gave a quiet grunt, delighted to finally see some improvement in his friend's health. This was an encouraging sign and Josiah was suddenly optimistic that the Texan would soon be able to leave his sickbed.

Vin Tanner was an independent and intensely private man, who had difficulty in allowing anyone to tend to his physical needs whenever injured or sick. He had only ever tolerated Nathan Jackson's necessary ministrations in the past, uneasily accepting additional care from Chris and Josiah, and usually escaping from the healer's clinic well before he was fully fit. This last week must have been a torturous ordeal for the shy tracker, particularly as he'd been surrounded and intimately nursed by strangers, with countless new but vital medical procedures being carried out on his person. It had been nothing short of a miracle that Vin had followed the Scottish physician's orders, and even his somewhat reckless actions of the previous day were justifiable, considering the stress he'd endured during the argument with Chris Larabee.

Josiah knew he wouldn't be the only one relieved to see Vin completely recovered and back in Four Corners, although he felt certain that the Texan's relationship with the gunslinger would be strained once the younger man returned to town. Vin and Chris were headstrong, stubborn men, and neither would readily admit to being wrong; both preferred to ignore emotional conflict and tended to distance themselves from verbal altercations. The tight-knit comradeship that the seven men shared had been put under duress from the moment the Cummings' and their entourage had arrived in the area, and the ex-preacher suddenly wondered if things would ever return to how they were. Only time would tell.

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