Small Packages

By: TJ

Editors: Antoinette and Lynn

Guest Starring:
Katherine MacGregor as Mrs. Ruth Crestwell
Zachary Ty Bryan as Luke Robertson
Camryn Manheim as Mrs. Annie Henderson
Nate Richert as Buddy Evans
Matthew Ferguson as Caleb Henderson
Wayne Knight as Hank Jacobs
Lance Hendriksen as Henry Rogers
Seth Green as Hugh Wylie
Jerry Orbach as Jake Webb
Matthew Lawrence as Matthew Potter
Ben Cardinal as Mitchell Birch
Erika Flores as Rebecca Potter
Doris Roberts as Frances Armstrong
Frank Collison as Tom Blanchard
Caelan Biehn as Phillip Johnson
Jody Sweetin as Patricia Johnson
Lamont Bentley as Robert
Camille Winbush as Georgia
Dee Dee Davis as Hope

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

Or anywhere close to Four Corners for that matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Things quiet over night?" Sanchez questioned curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mornin', Vin."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah poked his head around the doorframe and smiled warmly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nettie started to walk towards Josiah's small room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris nodded his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What you up to, JD?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

"Nathan," the preacher called again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ain't just the wagons."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it bad?"

"Reckon."

"How far ahead are they?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Wilmington!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mrs. Crestwell," Jake called out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Webb."

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

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

"How's it look?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Josiah made himself comfortable and nodded his understanding.

"Guess I stuck ma foot in ma mouth."

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

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

"And you spoke up without thinkin'!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a long pause before Josiah broke the silence.

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

Nodding his head once again, Buck smiled.

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

"Oh, now hold on there, Josiah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah!"

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

Wilmington looked at Josiah disgruntled.

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

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

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

"And how was your afternoon with Miss Casey?"

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

"So you had yer self an enjoyable day?"

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

"Yes, brother."

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

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

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

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

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

"Exactly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Two," Luke corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir..."

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

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

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

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

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

"Henry Rogers was driving," Ruth replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tanner nodded in head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The widow signaled her affirmative answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ma'am?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra and Nathan both nodded their heads and smiled.

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

The others nodded their heads in acknowledgement.

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

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

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

"Not much ta say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No sir," Dunne acknowledged with another smile.

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

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

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

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

The kid laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy nodded his head.

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

The children followed close behind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All three of the children shook their heads no.

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

"I'm Robert."

"I'm Georgia."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So they is orphans then?"

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

"Seems like an awful long way ta go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ma," the boy called from the door.

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

"Ma, can I give Hugh some marbles?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hand it over," Hugh repeated again.

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

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

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

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

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

"You heard Matt... Two each."

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

"But..." Evans interrupted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The gunslinger looked at his friend innocently.

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

More silent seconds passed.

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

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

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

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

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

"And then you left?"

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

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

"You gonna handle this alright?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Her husband?" the gambler repeated.

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

The light of understanding shone in Ezra's eyes.

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

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

There was another long silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Keep the faith, brother."

Jackson bowed his head and nodded it slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake nodded his head. "The children?"

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

"Henry... Mitch?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Somethin' wrong, Chris?"

Again there was no reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The gunslinger frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do understand your reasons, Nathan."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is this yer Mrs.?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The matron looked back at the man curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

"Evening, Mrs. Travis."

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

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

"Have you seen Mr. Larabee, Buck?"

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

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

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

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

Buck tipped his hat to the widow as he departed.

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

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

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

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

"The blond boy and his sister?"

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

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

"His son?" the tracker asked quickly.

"Yeah... why?"

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

"What is it, Vin?"

The tracker didn't answer.

"Vin!"

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

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

The tracker only nodded his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a long silence.

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

There was another long silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah, ma!"

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

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

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

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

"Mornin', ma'am."

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

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

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

The tracker lowered his head, then glanced at the chairs behind him. Stepping back, he offered Mary a seat, waited till she was settled then seated himself down beside her. He took a deep br