Vin Tanner walked down the left side of the street, letting his eyes scan the alleys on one pass and then the windows around him on the next. There was no sign of movement, no form that shouldn't have been there since his last stroll. Ezra Standish was taking his stroll down the other street. Vin allowed a small chuckle. Ezra had not been happy to pull duty tonight. It was the coldest night of the year so far. The dandy had grumbled about the quiet state of the town, the complacent people, the presence of the army, and the horrible state of the weather in an effort to justify that no protection was necessary this evening. No one had listened.

The frigid air clutched at Vin tonight as he walked down the street. It was cold and damp, and he felt it seep physically into his very being. He ignored it, concerning himself with other thoughts. He didn't like the soldiers in town, not merely because of the way they treated the Indians, but mainly there was something about them that seemed odd. He couldn't place his finger on it. If it weren't for Buck and Chris' past association with Major Brickhaven, he would have made an issue out of it, but for now he kept his thoughts only to himself. After all, it was only a gut feeling so far. He'd wait to find out something more solid before making accusations.

He paused, leaning against the nearest building. The moon was merely a dim blur within the clouds, so the only light emanating around him was the auroras of the few, muted lights from the curtained windows and the smoldering streetfires that struggled to remain lit. Vin preferred it that way; he liked the dark.

He eased further into the shadows, feeling more secure there. It wrapped around him, making him the obscure person he had always been. The sky above him opened, and the rains returned with a vengeance. Vin hunched his jacket collar closer to his neck and secured it. He was protected by a small overhang, the rain running down its surface in a near sheet. He remained where he was, angling a bit towards a small area where he could still see the street, the torrent deflected by something from above.

There wasn't anyone moving about, especially now that the rains had arrived. No one would be fool enough to be out here now. Everything was still, and the only sounds he could hear above the steady tattoo of the rain was the hissing from the dying fires in the street. Four Corners was finally serene, and for the first time since his arrival, Vin actually liked the town.

He straightened from the wall, about to step out onto the street, when he froze. A figure walked down the opposite sidewalk. Army uniform, Vin observed. He relaxed, but stayed where he was. He recognized the figure as Lieutenant Silverstone, who paused, surveying his surroundings. His gaze swept past Vin, but didn't see him.

Vin decided to wait until Silverstone resumed motion. Seconds later the figure moved on, but Vin never moved, his eyes now on the three other men in buckskin emerging from the night to move after the figure.

Vin paused a beat, letting them pass, and then he blended into the shadows behind them. When the army man turned down an alley, Vin's eyebrow rose. If the lieutenant realized he was being followed, entering an alley was not a wise move on a night like this. The pursuers would definitely have the advantage within the narrow, dark alley which could easily conceal a dozen dangers.

Vin wished he had time to contact Ezra. Being out of visual range from the gambler made Vin's next move foolish. He followed the men into the alley.

Ezra Standish hid inside a doorway, out of the elements. He despised this freakish weather, and shivered despite the heavy green wool jacket he wore. How the temperature could drop so low so fast was beyond him. He wished he had garnered a slicker prior to heading out on tonight's rounds. Actually, he had hoped that it would have been unnecessary, now that the army was in town, but the seven's illustrious leader had determined that obviously wasn't enough protection. Ezra silently cursed Chris Larabee. The gunslinger truly expected far too much of him. He was a simple con man and yet Larabee continually insisted he be something more. Ezra wasn't sure exactly what that was nor whether he was ready to change into something else, though there was a part of him that didn't mind a slight transformation, so long as it didn't get himself killed and proved profitable in the long run.

After his mother's visit, everything became complicated. She had started him thinking of the real reasons he stayed in Four Corners, reasons that shocked the hell out of him, reasons he tried to deny. Everyone, Ezra included, assumed that it was for purely selfish reasons that he stayed in Four Corners, that he wanted Mary Travis and the rest of his new compatriots owing him a favor in some form or the other. One never knew when such people would be handy to have around in his line of business. Yet then there was that other side of him, the one that spoke in hushed whispers of his exploits being solely for altruistic reasons. Otherwise, why would he continue to be ordered around by Chris Larabee? The gunslinger constantly pushed him to his moral limits and then beyond. Ezra cursed the man at the start of every venture, but by the venture's end the gambler felt a rise in his self worth, which Ezra found surprisingly rewarding. Maybe Chris Larabee knew him better than he knew himself.

He glanced at his timepiece. Mr. Tanner should have made it back towards him by now. He strained to see movement down the street, but there was nothing visible through the torrent of rain. Maybe Tanner had merely availed himself of some shelter much like Ezra.

The gambler frowned. No, that wasn't like Tanner. The man loved the outdoors. A simple thing like a downpour wouldn't bother the bounty hunter. Ezra waited a bit more. There was little that would force him to leave the dry shelter he had found. It would have to be a most valid reason to drive him out into the storm.

More time went by and still the bounty hunter did not appear. "Damn it, Mr. Tanner, show yourself!" But still nothing. Ezra sighed and hunched his collar up around his neck, preparing himself. "Mr. Tanner, if you are not in the most dire of predicaments, you are paying for a new jacket." Without another word, the gambler darted into the maelstrom.

Vin followed the men into the alley, his darkened buckskin making him all but invisible in the shadows. The men he were following were huddled together, talking. Vin studied them curiously. Silverstone didn't appear to be in any apparent danger from these men. However, they didn't look like anyone from here in town, but the distance and the elements made verification of that impossible.

Vin didn't like Silverstone much. His attitude through the day had done little to put Vin at ease. He respected Brickhaven, out of consideration for Buck and Chris' past relation with the man, but there was still something odd about the major and his company.

Suddenly, there was movement behind him, and he spun to see Ezra Standish creeping up on him. Vin gestured for him to crouch lower and then glanced at Silverstone and his visitors, who had thankfully not noticed Ezra's approach due to the driving rain.

"Are you in trouble, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin eyed him strangely. "No," he said quietly, wishing Ezra would lower his voice.

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind offering a donation towards a new coat." He plucked at a sodden sleeve. "This one has seen its last day, I'm afraid."

Vin had no idea what the gambler was going on about, but he dismissed him irately and bobbed his chin towards Silverstone. "I had assumed the lieutenant there was about to be robbed by those men, but it appears I was wrong. They're a might too friendly." He brushed the excess water from his face. "Still, I'd like to know who they are."

Ezra sighed in disgust, as much for his damp, cold body as for the current state of his wardrobe. "Well, let's just go ask them, shall we?" Ezra stood abruptly and strode forward, shoving aside some debris. "Then perhaps we can withdraw out of this deluge."

Vin tried to stop the foolish con man, but it was too late. The party of men turned as one towards the sound. Vin cursed and stood to back up Ezra.

"Gentlemen, do you not think that this weather calls for you to conduct your little soiree indoors?"

All the men reached immediately for their weapons, including Silverstone. The man on the lieutenant's left grabbed Silverstone's arm and then slammed a fist into his face. Silverstone fell back, stunned.

The minute weapons came into play, a surprised Ezra dodged to the left and flexed his arm, bringing his derringer into his hand. Then the darkness was split by gunfire.

Vin ducked behind some crates, pulling his Mare's Leg from its holster. His shot brought a fellah down. The other two briefly returned fire and then fled. Vin gave chase, but lost them in the darkness.

Ezra approached Silverstone, who was groggily getting to his feet. The gambler stared down at him, but offered no help. The water collecting within the brim of his hat poured down around Silverstone's boots.

"Thanks for the help," Silverstone said brusquely, holding his jaw gingerly.

Ezra carefully scrutinized him, then the dead man. "Who were they?" He glanced up as Vin returned. The bounty hunter eased up to the other side of Silverstone.

"Don't know, but they were planning on robbing me!"

"They sure took their time about it," Vin noted dryly.

Silverstone swung towards him, contemplating his tone. "I almost had them convinced to do otherwise till he showed up." He nodded at the gambler. "Nice town you have here."

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Seems to me you've been named well; such a tongue of silver. What did you say that would sway them suddenly from their life of crime?"

Silverstone brushed past them. "That I had no money."

Ezra paused in genuine surprise, and then laughed. "Well, I suppose that would do it."

"Ever see them before?" Vin asked, following after Silverstone.

The lieutenant glanced briefly over his shoulder at the bounty hunter. "No. I'm new here in town. Why would I know them?"

Vin shrugged, his eyes still boring into the Lieutenant. "Just askin'."

Silverstone frowned and then headed for the saloon, Vin and Ezra right behind him.

Early the next morning the weather cleared a bit, and a few brave people wandered through the town, trying to avoid the sucking mud hole that the streets had become. It was nigh impossible. Nathan and Josiah made their way carefully across the slippery mess, aiming for the mission, their pants coated in the filth above their ankles.

"Winter's last breath was mighty wet one," Josiah commented, pulling himself up onto the landing of the sidewalk.

"You're tellin' me." Nathan joined him, shaking his mud-covered boot off to the side. Large globs of the wet, bulky stuff joined the rest, piling steadily on the drenched wooden planks. His eyes scanned the still, quiet street. "There's bound to be some wagons getting stuck this morning."

"Hopefully, residents will be wise enough to avoid it." Josiah stamped his feet hard, trying to lessen the dragging weight of the mud. "I have alot of work left to do in the church. I do not want to spend my time wallowing in this hellish stuff."

Nathan tapped on the preacher's arm. "Too late." He gestured to an army wagon already trapped in the sucking mud. The horses struggled to keep their feet as the driver tried to urge them on. Josiah sighed and eased himself back down into the street. Nathan waded after him, smiling. The big preacher would never abandon a soul in need.

Josiah grabbed the side of the wagon. "Need some help?"

The army private looked down from the front seat. "Obliged. I need to bring these supplies out to the camp."

Nathan took up a position in the back. "Urge them on again," he said, indicating the horses. The private snapped the reins, and the horses strained against their traces. Josiah and Nathan placed their shoulders to the wood and heaved. The wagon rocked back and forth and then settled again in its wet hole.

"What's going on here?" A huge bear of a man with sergeant stripes approached from behind them.

Nathan turned. "The obvious. Your wagon's stuck."

The army sergeant glared at Nathan. He didn't care much for the man's sense of humor, but he took up position on the other side of him. "Try it again, Hudson!" he ordered sharply.

Nathan grinned wryly and shoved the wagon as hard as he could. The extra muscle did the job, and the wagon rolled free, the horses straining against the slop. "Keep it moving. Don't stop till you hit something solid," he called after the private. Then he turned and regarded the back of the sergeant, who was watching the wagon move slowly up the street. There was a hole in the army man's coat, high up on the left shoulder. A second before the sergeant turned to him, Nathan could have sworn there was some discoloration around it.

The sergeant's steel gray eyes swung on the healer as Josiah came to stand beside him. "Thanks for your assistance," the burly man offered to them both. He was nearly as massive as Josiah's own towering frame.

"Hate to see it tying up traffic," the preacher joked.

The beefy sergeant thought a moment and then laughed, offering a hand. "Sergeant Tom Mitchell." Nathan and Josiah shook the sergeant's hand warmly. "You're part of the seven gunfighters hired to protect this town, right?"

Nathan and Josiah exchanged amused glances. "We're not gunfighters," Josiah commented. "In fact, he's a preacher, and I'm interested in healing folk."

Mitchell nodded. "Let me ask you men; where the hell are all the women in this town? This place is about as barren as a church yard." He glanced at Josiah, "No offense."

Josiah shrugged, dismissing the matter. "It's a rough town. Not exactly made for the gentler sex."

"Well, what about working women, if you know what I mean?" The man winked lecherously.

Nathan fought the frown that threatened to show. "Sorry, most of them left town for San Francisco. Better clientele, I suppose." That information did not please Mitchell. Nathan chewed on his lower lip, contemplating his next statement. "How's that wound?"

The sergeant looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I thought I saw you favoring that left arm," Nathan lied.

The sergeant regarded the black man carefully before he answered. "No. My left arm's just fine." The man moved it around to demonstrate.

Josiah looked at his friend oddly but said nothing. Nathan smiled. "My mistake, then."

Mitchell studied them both a minute more, and then he stepped up onto the sidewalk. "Well, I guess I've got work to do. Good day."

When the man was gone, Josiah crossed his arms. "Now what was that about?"

Nathan's smile faded. "There was a bullet hole in that army coat."

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Maybe that wasn't his coat. Or maybe the army's saving money and the coat's merely seen better days."

"Maybe," Nathan mused. "Still, it's strange. Sloppiness ain't tolerated much in the army. You'd think he'd have had it fixed by now." He spotted Vin walking down the sidewalk towards the saloon. He glanced back towards Josiah. "I'll meet you at the church."

Josiah pursed his lips as Nathan crossed the street. "Your observant nature is gonna get you in trouble one of these days, my friend." Nathan waved a nonchalant hand in the preacher's direction and continued on. Josiah shook his head and returned his attention to the church.

It was almost noon when Vin entered the hotel restaurant and made his way towards Chris' table. The gunfighter sat there nursing a cup of coffee and a mild hangover. One thing Vin noticed about the man, he drank quietly and suffered in solitary silence, exorcising his own demons, and though Vin didn't agree with his new friend's method, he wouldn't begrudge Chris' desperate search for solace. The last thing the gunfighter needed was to be badgered. The man's clarity about what needed to be done in this town was solid enough. Chris held his demons in careful check. They never interfered; at least not yet.

Chris raised red-rimmed eyes at Vin's approach. The bounty hunter was pleased to see that beyond that, they were clear and lucid. "Mornin'." he offered.

Chris grunted and sipped his coffee. "If you say so." He had been up an hour or so and already regretted it. This day promised to be no better than the last; too many things left undone that he knew he would have to deal with eventually. His scowl deepened.

Vin snatched a chair from an empty table and spun it around to straddle it. Neither of them said anything more for a time. He scanned the room. There were a few other people in the place finishing their breakfast, but none of them were of any concern. He glanced back at Chris. He had never seen the man eat breakfast; usually just a meal in the evenings. It was no wonder to Vin that the man remained so thin.

Vin ran a hand over his jaw, unsure suddenly on how to begin voicing his concerns over last night. It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. He didn't want to cause a rift with the accusations he was gonna start throwing about.

Chris observed the bounty hunter carefully. It was obvious something was bothering him. After the ruckus last night, Vin had seemed edgy. Chris hadn't broached the subject then, waiting instead until Vin was ready to come forth. It seemed like now was the time, but whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. Chris leaned back and made it easier. "Just come out and say it, Vin."

Vin grinned slightly. It had been like this ever since that first day when they had caught the other's eye from across the dusty street. Chris could read Vin as easily as if they had been friends forever, and Vin was always able to see deeper inside Chris than he allowed most. Little was ever lost in their observations of life around them or of each other. It was probably what kept them alive, and also what kept them friends.

"How well do you know the major?" Vin began slowly.

Chris was not surprised at the direction of Vin's question. "I knew him." He made sure he emphasized the past. "It was a long time ago."

"Did he change much?"

Chris cupped his hand around the warm cup, easing the cold, stiff ache in his fingers. The wound in his right arm ached abominably this morning. "In some ways."

Vin viewed the semi-empty room. He didn't want this to turn into an interrogation, so he changed his tactics. "I don't think much of his lieutenant."

Chris let a small smile crease his lips. "I don't think much of him either. He's got a chip on his shoulder." He took a sip of his drink.

"You think he's itching for someone to knock it off?"

"Maybe." Chris shrugged. "I'm hoping Brickhaven can keep him in line." He took in Vin over the rim of his coffee cup. "You want to tell me what really happened last night?"

Vin shifted uneasily in his chair. "It happened the way I said, only I don't believe Silverstone's story. From what I've seen of his manners, I don't believe he could sweet-talk a possum outta his meal, much less three bandits outta robbing him."

Chris fought the grin that threatened. "I know what you mean."

"They stood around and gabbed for almost ten minutes before Ezra showed up." Vin's frustration and uneasiness grew. "I just can't shake the feeling there's something odd here; I just can't put my finger on it. I wasn't gonna say anything, but then Nathan noticed something strange, too." Chris' eyes narrowed and waited for Vin to continue. "Their clothes are a might too worn; hell, some of them are even ill-fitting, and then Nathan spots what he thinks is a bullet hole in one of them. If it weren't for you and Buck knowing Brickhaven, I'd swear those men weren't even Cavalry; just a damn poor imitation."

Chris set his cup down. "Brickhaven always struck me as a lifer in the army, but he was never any good out in the field. He was always more suited to the safety and complacency of a fort, at least in my opinion, which doesn't count for much. As for the rest of his men, I can't vouch for them." He was silent for a moment, thinking; then he looked at Vin, his mind set. "Let me see what I can find out. I'll send a wire today to Fort Sumner. We'll learn the truth soon enough. Till then, keep your eyes open."

Vin nodded, relieved that Chris was willing to listen. The past was something Chris did not like to talk about, and Vin had been concerned that that included Brickhaven as well. He stood, pushing the chair back to its regular spot. Chris never had more than one chair at his table. Very few people were invited to sit with him. The six understood, and only they were willing to encroach on Chris' territory, and only when they gauged his mood amiable.

Chris stood with him and together they went outside, not realizing they were under a watchful gaze. The shadow slipped back into the alley, but stepped out the minute the two men separated, following the man in black to the telegraph office.

The day seemed drier. Huge cumulus clouds swept overhead with amazing speed, and occasionally allowed brief brilliant rays of the sun to stream forth before snatching them away once again. Chris lowered the brim of his hat against the glare of the momentary sun hitting the glass pane of the hotel window. Now that the telegraph was sent, he walked slowly down the sidewalk, his thoughts consumed with other things. He barely heard the footsteps coming up behind him, and he mentally berated himself for being so lax. He swung around to see Nathan jogging towards him.

"Chris!" Nathan called out as the gunslinger paused. "How's that arm of yours?"

"It's fine." Scowling, Chris resumed his walking.

Nathan cursed the man silently and followed doggedly after. "I want to change the bandage and check the stitches."

"They're fine."

Nathan halted, throwing up his arms in disgust. "Okay! Let it go gangrene and then I'll just lop it off, or you can die slow like ol' man Fallon. He told me the same thing."

Chris paused again, his mind flashing back quickly to the first day they met. He took a deep breath, and then nodded in defeat at the man.

Nathan knew better than to smile at his victory. He led the way to his room, Chris placidly trailing. Once Nathan had him there, he took his time in his examination. He doubted he'd get Chris here again so willingly. Chris discarded his shirt and laid it carefully across a nearby chair. Nathan frowned as he removed the bloodstained bandage. Some of the blood had leaked onto Chris' grey shirt, but the black duster the man wore had neatly covered that fact. "You're using your arm too much. Some of the stitches have ripped, Chris. You've got to let it heal. You should be using that sling still."

"The sling's an annoyance," Chris stated matter-of-factly.

"Be that as it may, it'll keep your arm steady and the stitches in." He twisted Chris' arm slightly to look at them, making Chris wince. "Hell, the flesh's so torn now, I'm not sure if another set will hold." He took out a bottle and saturated a sterile cloth with its contents. "This is gonna hurt some."

Chris steeled himself and gritted his teeth as Nathan cleaned the wound. He changed the topic of conversation to distract himself. "About what you told Vin this morning, how old do you think that bullet hole was?"

"Hard to say, but the discoloration looked recent enough, no less than a month maybe."

"And he wasn't wounded?"

Nathan smiled. "From the size of the hole in the coat and its location, that man shouldn't have had full rotation of that arm. No one heals that fast." He eyed Chris purposely, making a point that he doubted Chris caught, or if he had, the sullen gunfighter ignored it.

Chris considered this information, then hissed sharply as Nathan tightened a new bandage around his arm. He glared at the young healer. "Have you seen Buck this morning?"

"Him and JD are out scouting with Brickhaven. They left early this morning and haven't come back yet. You think something's up?"

"Maybe." Chris slipped back into his shirt, easing his throbbing arm carefully into the sleeve. He didn't like where this was heading, not one bit, and neither would Buck, but for all the wrong reasons.

Buck reined in his horse, JD pulling up beside him. Ahead of them the road was awash, the banks of the local river overflowing. The brown, muddy water rushed swiftly past, slamming against trees and brush, most of which had been sheared off and swept downstream. Buck estimated that the water was just over five feet deep. Brickhaven came up, scowling, on his big dun. "Looks like you'll have to find another route for that wagon, major."

"Damn," Brickhaven cursed.

JD gazed skyward as huge dark thunderclouds moved into the area. "Vin said that it was gonna rain again later today. This road's not about to get any better."

"Damn it," Brickhaven cursed again, startling his mount, which sidestepped briskly, making the mud fly beneath its hooves.

His old commander's reaction struck Buck as odd. He quieted his own restless horse under him. "I wouldn't worry about it none. There's other ways around this river."

Brickhaven removed his hat and wiped a sweat-covered brow. "Which road would that wagon have to take as an alternate?"

"There's a road or two they could take if they know the area."

"Why don't you just have one of your men meet up and escort them back here?" JD asked bluntly.

Brickhaven glared at him irately, but directed his comment towards his old sergeant. "Show me the alternate routes, Buck."

Buck studied his old friend, puzzled by his recent behavior, but then remembered the man had always had a stress problem when things didn't go exactly as planned. "No problem, major." He backed his horse up.

JD exchanged a sheepish shrug with Buck as the small troop moved off, circling back around the swollen river. Buck hung back a bit, allowing JD to take the lead, and then sidled his steed next to Brickhaven's. "What's up, major? This whole thing has got you a tad worked up."

Brickhaven was silent, but then turned towards his old sergeant. "I'll be honest with you, Buck. This is my last chance to prove myself to my superiors. I'm too old to be doing this kind of shit. I deserve a cushy office, not traipsing all around God's good earth."

"Never took you for a desk man, major."

"Age does things to a man, Buck. Someday you'll find that out. Every old wound that you've garnered over the years comes back to haunt you." Brickhaven eased his large frame around in his saddle. "There comes a time when you have to admit to yourself that you're too damn old and just accept your limitations with dignity."

Buck chuckled softly. "Hell, I feel that way now sometimes." He sobered a bit, watching Brickhaven grimace against obvious pain. "Have you requested such a position?"

"More times than I can count. Unfortunately, my record lately hasn't left much to impress the brass with. I've made some grievous errors that they refuse to overlook." Brickhaven's tone turned bitter. "If I can pull this off without a hitch, it would prove to them that I'm not some has-been, that I deserve to command a fort!"

Buck remained quiet. He had rarely heard his old friend talk with such venom. Brickhaven had a definite grudge against his superiors; not that he blamed the major. Buck decided that anything he could do to help Brickhaven secure a desk job, if that's what he truly wanted, Buck would do. He owed him that much.

JD glanced back, surprised at the loud voices. He had been listening as best he could, but still missed too much of the conversation to know exactly what was going on. He shrugged. Buck would fill him in later, he was sure.