Chris entered the Clarion News to find its proprietor nestled behind the desk, busily arranging the type for the next edition of her newspaper. She glanced up with much surprise at her visitor.

"Mr. Larabee." Mary wiped the excess ink from her hands and approached him. She looked towards the stairs, half expecting a small blond form to come barreling down at any moment. "What can I do for you?"

Chris nodded a greeting, his face locked into a painful grimace of which he wasn't even aware. He too expected to see young Billy Travis, the last person he wanted to meet today. He regarded the boy's mother, who had undergone a transformation in the last two weeks, due in part to Billy's own progress. Now that the boy had faced his nightmares and brought to justice the men who had murdered his father, both mother and son were more relaxed. Their lives had been restored to a sense of normalcy, thanks to Chris and the rest. In fact, Mary seemed almost to shine of late. It made Chris even more uncomfortable. He took a lengthly breath before he spoke. "I need a favor."

Mary never hesitated. "Of course."

Her impulsive willingness disturbed him. She had no idea what he was going to ask of her, heedless of the possible danger. "You don't have to do this," he reminded her.

Mary smiled benignly at him. "Yes, I do, and I don't mind. I want to," she assured him. "How can I help you?"

He reconsidered his idea, wondering if it was a mistake to involve her. Eventually, though, he swallowed his apprehension, realizing he had little choice. "How current are your records?"

Chris left Mary's office fifteen minutes later, shutting the door behind him with relief. He had escaped without having to confront Billy Travis, and thereby perhaps confront himself. For the first time since his arrival in Four Corners, Chris was suddenly a stranger to himself. There was a lightness in him just a few days ago that had frightened him, and yet made him also feel like a complete person again. It had come upon him so suddenly, and for a moment he was afraid he'd return to the dark man he naturally was. He knew he would; he had to. It was the only way for him to survive these days.

Yet Mary and Billy Travis continually reminded him of a life that should have been his. He had tasted serenity again, and damn his soul for wanting more. Damn Mary for offering him the sweet wine of hope. Damn himself for making it bitter now.

He replayed the scene that haunted him this week; Billy so happily fishing while Chris rested quietly on the grass beside him. Billy had blurted out that Chris should marry his mother. The boy had practically begged him for a family and Chris had done nothing but stare at the boy, struck dumb by the boy's innocent wish. He finally just shook his head and harshly murmured, "No." The disappointment in Billy's eyes tore into Chris, and the boy turned back to fishing, the silence between the two suddenly painful.

Outside the office, Chris rubbed his jawline harshly. The stiff bristles of a day's growth bit into his cold, aching hand. Chris had control of his anger, finally, not at Billy but at himself, anger for not explaining himself properly to the boy. To be with people who knew so much about him suddenly was disturbing to Chris. He felt exposed in ways that angered him. The pain of their comments and their looks shook him to the core, and he hated that vulnerability. Hated it when JD had snapped at him in the Seminole village, hated it when Mary Travis had cornered him in the mercantile store. But Billy Travis had been innocent. Chris shouldn't have reacted that way. He should have been stronger than that.

He didn't know what to do now. Another first for Chris. Never was any decision so convoluted as the one that stood suddenly before him. The right action was to talk to the boy, but that thought only brought Chris pain. It was near irrational. Every time he thought he had made his decision, some inner voice managed to convince him otherwise.

A huge bolt of lightening split the sky above him. It took several seconds before the deafening crack of sound reached his ears. Chris watched the developing darkness in the clouds, wishing that he could just vanish into its ebony folds. Move on, Chris, before this town swallows you whole, he warned himself. This was the trouble with remaining in one place too long. Such things weren't meant for Chris. He had tried it once, and it had failed. It'd be pointless to try it again. His scowl intensified, drawing deep creases around his mouth. He walked on, half tempted to continue straight out of town. Instead, with less effort than he thought it would take, he turned into the hotel.

Later that evening, the gunslinger haunted the saloon. Vin and Nathan sat with him. Ezra ran a poker game to their left. Josiah and JD were on duty tonight. The rain had begun again, and the lamps flickered against the blowing wind that whipped about the room. Chris hunched his shoulders against the damp cold.

Nathan frowned, nursing a cup of hot coffee and peering across the table at his reluctant patient. Chris had foregone the sling again, but at least he was favoring the arm more. The gunslinger drank with his left. Nathan smirked slightly. He guessed that counted as favoring.

Suddenly, the doors swung open and a drenched Buck Wilmington entered. Anger so enveloped the man that he hardly noticed. Chris had been waiting for this, dreading it, but it was now Buck's move. Buck and Chris would never see eye to eye on this matter, regardless of how long they had been friends. He kept his eyes down on the age-old scar cut deep into the wooden table.

Buck strode towards their table. "Chris!" Chris took his time looking up, saying nothing. "Damn it, Chris! I just heard about the telegraph you sent! I can't believe you! You're not even giving Brickhaven a chance."

Chris leaned back, his voice so quiet that the entire saloon dropped into silence so Buck and everyone else could hear. "I'm doing my job, Buck. Same as you should be."

Buck's fury intensified. He leaned over the table, his hands clenching the edges. "I am doing my job. I'm offering assistance to the US Army. You, on the other hand, are still acting as if it were fifteen years ago. There's no reason to bear old grudges. We're all different men now." Buck's mouth closed on his next statement. Chris knew damn well that included him too. "You never liked Brickhaven and you're doing everything you can to discredit him. You're attacking a man's reputation! He's an old war dog, same as us. Damn it, Chris, the man's a friend, just like I thought you were!"

The only visible reaction which showed how much that remark stung was a twitch in the gunslinger's clenched jaw, but Chris' voice remained steady. "You know what's going on, Buck. Are you telling me that what Vin and Nathan saw doesn't make you even slightly suspicious?"

"Have you even talked to Brickhaven about it?" Buck countered. "You're accusing him and his men without proof!"

Vin's low voice interrupted. "Nobody's accusing anyone of anything, Buck. We're just checking things out."

"Better safe than sorry," Nathan added, hoping to calm the situation down. Surely Buck saw the logic in that.

Buck shoved himself off the table, making it slide harshly across the floor towards Chris, who caught it before it hit him. "You're wrong about the major, Chris," Buck insisted.

Buck pushed his way out of the saloon, slamming into JD, who was just entering. "Buck!" The scoundrel never even slowed. "Where you going?" JD called out. He glanced back towards the others. He had known Buck was going to be upset about the telegraph, but he hadn't realized how much. JD stood in the doorway, torn between his best friend and his respect for the others. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but one thing he did know: you stick by your friends; your best ones. With one final glance toward Chris, he followed after Buck.

Chris shook his head in regret, his pain evident for the first time. He quickly masked it again as Vin meticulously sipped his whiskey, watching the rare play of emotions across the gunslinger's face. "I hope we're right about this, Chris."

"I hope we're wrong," the gunslinger said remorsefully.

It was well past midnight as Chris took the last stroll around Four Corners, as he was wont to do every evening. Sleep was never something he relished surrendering himself to. It left him too vulnerable to both things that were physical and things that were not so corporeal. He avoided them as long as possible. The rains had ceased again, but the air remained icy and damp, his visible breath slipping quickly away from him by the chill breeze that coursed through town. He walked down the wooden sidewalk, the sodden boards muffling his footsteps.

The town was mercifully quiet, though Chris had the nagging suspicion it wouldn't remain so for much longer. Something was going to bust, and if it didn't turn out to be Brickhaven, it was going to be Buck. The gunslinger had rarely seen Buck so angry, but Buck always had a blind spot for pretty women or old friends. He stuck by both, regardless. Chris knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that loyalty. It was a powerful thing. Yet, no matter how hard Chris tried to remain distant, to the point of chasing Buck off with a razor, the man kept coming back. Chris wondered briefly if perhaps this time he had finally succeeded in getting his wish. He wasn't prepared for the fierce stab of pain that struck him suddenly in his heart.

Chris paused, leaning up against a post. He hardly remembered a time when Buck and he hadn't been good friends. They had met in the Army, both joining when they were young men, full of spit and vinegar. Chris had risen swiftly in the ranks, due mainly to what Buck called "heroic acts of stupidity," yet Buck remained forever at his side. Chris and Buck had managed to stay in the same regiment, and between the two of them there was little they couldn't handle. The army gave them every dirty job in the book, and they had worked miracles. They were each extensions of the other, more one man than two. You could always depend on Buck, Chris thought wryly.

Chris found himself smiling at the memories, but then slowly grew more solemn. He missed that feeling. Now Chris spent much of his time alone, pushing everyone away, afraid of getting too close to anyone. He couldn't bear it if something happened, something horrible. It was better not to become involved, but how do you explain it to your best friend or to a little boy?

Chris brushed away the thoughts as if they were tangible things and moved on down the street. The glimmer of a lantern's glow caught his eye. Mary Travis was burning the midnight oil. Pausing by her window, he could see her slim form moving behind the drapes. He knocked gently on the door. A brief look through the curtain, and a moment later she opened the door. "Mr. Larabee," she said in shock.

"I saw your light was on. I was wondering if you've found anything yet."

She inclined her head. "As a matter of fact, I did." She opened the door wider. "Please, come in." She returned to several bundles of papers upon the counter. Each bundle was fastidiously dated and labeled.

Chris looked them over carefully. "Your husband was a very thorough man."

"Yes, he was." Mary was staring at Chris, but when he glanced towards her, she hurriedly dropped her gaze. "Um, you mentioned the 1860's. Fort Sumner was a busy place. There were numerous Indian uprisings."

"Anything about Brickhaven or Silverstone?"

"I couldn't find any mention of Silverstone, but the name Brickhaven figured very prominently in some of these reports." She laid out a spread of papers before Chris. "None of them very good, I'm afraid."

Chris eyes scanned the reports quickly. Nothing here surprised him. Brickhaven had always been a sloppy commander, even before Chris had known him. The man was terrible out in the field. Chris and Buck had to continually extract their Company from numerous near disasters.

Mary continued breaking down what she knew from the research. "There were some incidents where the press criticized Major Brickhaven severely for his actions. The army didn't seem interested in covering for him."

"The army hates stupidity." Chris shook his head as he read incident after incident. It had gotten much worse after Chris and Buck had left.

"How did this man stay in the army?" Mary queried, clearly perplexed.

Chris' eyes narrowed. The better question was, why would the army send a man like Brickhaven to guard the payroll? Chris had a distinct sinking feeling, and his mouth locked once again into his signature grimace. This didn't bode well for either Brickhaven or Buck.

Mary watched Chris. There was more going on in this town than Chris Larabee let on, and whatever it was bothered him deeply. She wanted to reach out and reassure him in some way, but she knew better. This was a man who would not accept comfort from a close friend, much less an outside source like herself. Instead, she offered the next best thing to a man. "Coffee?"

Chris nodded in distraction as he pulled out another report, looking for something that would put his mind at ease. He barely noticed when Mary set a steaming cup down beside him. He pointed at the last bundle. "These records end a year ago. You don't have anything more current?"

Mary took a quick sip of her own drink before answering. "Unfortunately, no. I couldn't find anything recent at all. After being so prominent in the news all those years, Major Brickhaven suddenly just dropped out of sight. I thought it strange."

Chris' scowl deepened. "It is strange."

There was a quiet knock on the door. Mary jumped as Chris spun around. She took a deep, steady breath, ashamed at herself for reacting so, and answered the door. "Doesn't anyone sleep in this town anymore?" she mumbled.

Silas Atwater, the telegraph operator, stood before her. "I'm looking for Mr. Larabee. Mr. Tanner said he saw him come in here."

One corner of Chris' mouth jerked upwards. He should have known that Vin was still out and about as well. He stepped forward. "I'm right here, Silas."

Silas handed Mr. Larabee the telegraph. "It's from Fort Sumner. You said you wanted it right away." He nodded curtly at Mrs. Travis. "Mary." A frown creased his face as he looked at her and then at Mr. Larabee.

"Thank you, Silas. Goodnight." She closed the door, suddenly realizing how it must have looked to Silas. It was extremely late, and Mr. Larabee wasn't the kind of man a woman should have visiting at such an hour. Her face reddened until she saw the expression on Chris' face. "What is it?" she asked in concern.

Chris continued to stare at the paper in his hand, his voice laced with bitterness and regret. "I was right." The telegraph crumpled in his grip.

She was puzzled. "About what?"

With a savage slam, the back door burst open and Lieutenant Silverstone and Sergeant Mitchell entered, their guns drawn and pointed at the two of them.

"Too bad, Larabee," Silverstone remarked cruelly, nodding towards the telegraph. "You couldn't leave well enough alone. You had to go butting your nose into our business. I told Brickhaven that it was wrong to cater to you, but he wouldn't listen. Thought your friendship would be enough to hide behind. He was a fool."

Chris moved to place himself between Mary and the two men, but Mitchell grabbed Mary Travis, who managed a small cry before the Sergeant's beefy hand clamped over her mouth.

"Finally, a woman," Mitchell purred. He ran his hand brazenly over her body. Mary bucked and tried to escape. Enraged, Chris rushed towards her, only to have Silverstone slam the rifle butt down mercilessly onto his back. Chris collapsed to his hands and knees, his breath hissing painfully through his teeth. He glared up at Mitchell. "Leave her alone."

Silverstone, relishing his upper hand, smirked and leaned down until Chris could smell his fetid breath. "You brought her into this. Now we need some assurance."

"Take me instead," Chris snarled.

"She'll make a far better hostage for the moment. You're much too willing to die, Larabee. Don't worry, your time will come."

Chris' eyes turned cold and his mouth curled cruelly upwards. "Not before you." He forced his legs to support him, and when that almost failed, he grabbed the counter. "You've wanted to prove yourself against me from the start. Here's your chance. Let's do it." He pushed himself off to stand upright, his hand hovering over his weapon.

Licking his lips, Silverstone's right hand dropped slowly towards his own holstered pistol, the temptation overwhelming, but before he could act, Mitchell slammed his rifle butt across Chris' face. The gunfighter spun bonelessly to the floor and lay motionless on his side. Mary gave a muffled, horrified shout and struggled briefly against her bonds and gag, but Mitchell had made them tight. There was nothing she could do but watch. She only prayed that Billy would remain asleep and not come downstairs.

Mitchell, disgusted by the turn of events, spun savagely on Silverstone. He would not let Silverstone's ego ruin months of planning. "Enough of this! We have more important things to do, lieutenant!"

"I'm not your goddamn lieutenant!" He grabbed Mitchell by the collar. "You robbed me of my chance to kill Larabee, to make my reputation . . ."

"A gunshot would bring the others down on us. Don't be stupid! We're leaving. The wagon arrives in just a few hours." He spat at the limp body on the floor. "You're not ruining my shot at the payroll." He shoved the man from him.

Silverstone released him, furious at the other's logic. He grabbed Mary roughly and dragged her towards the back door. Mitchell followed him.

Vin came looking for Chris a couple of hours later, only to find his friend unconscious. He shouted to Ezra, who was with him, to wake Nathan. A spiderweb of blood spread across Chris' face as Vin eased him over onto his back. A huge gash creased his temple, surrounded by a growing bruise.

"Chris! Chris, can you hear me?" He slapped the unconscious man a few times on the cheek to rouse him, but to no avail. Vin took a look around the empty office. He went upstairs to check on Billy Travis, who was still soundly sleeping in the way only the innocent could sleep. He came back down to notice that the back door was ajar. He eased himself outside carefully, his weapon drawn. When he returned, Nathan was there, checking Chris.

Nathan clucked softly while Vin waited patiently. Finally, an anxious Ezra leaned down. "Well, is he dead?"

Nathan raised an exasperated eyebrow. "No. Thank the maker he's got a hard head, though."

"He seems to be bleeding rather profusely," Ezra commented with a grimace. He always hated the sight of blood.

"Head wounds do tend to bleed more. He took a hell of a blow."

"He gonna be all right?" Vin asked quietly.

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, but he's gonna have a dilly of a headache when he comes to. It's not gonna improve his mood."

As if on cue, Chris groaned and shifted slightly under Nathan's hand, who quickly squeezed Chris' shoulder. "Chris! Come on now, Chris, wake up!"

Chris' eyes fluttered open, only to shut them once again as massive pain stabbed into his temples. He groaned again.

"Chris! Can you hear me?"

"Stop your damn yelling," the gunslinger murmured through clenched teeth.

Ezra glanced at Nathan. "I see what you mean."

Chris struggled to right himself, but Nathan pressed him down. "Easy, Chris. I wouldn't get up so fast." Chris shoved Nathan's hand aside and continued to get up. Nathan shook his head in distress as Vin reached to help Chris, practically lifting him into a sitting position with his back against the counter. Chris' left eye was filled with blood and was swelling shut. He eased a shaking hand to his throbbing head. Nathan tried to wipe the excess blood away.

"Where's Mary?" Chris mumbled. "Billy . . ." He tried to stand, but Vin's hand held him firm.

"She's not here," Vin informed him. "There are tracks outside in the mud. Billy's okay, though. He's upstairs."

"What happened here, Chris?" Nathan asked, still working on the head wound.

Chris flinched at his ministrations. "Silverstone took her." He cast a bloodshot eye towards the drifter. "You were right, Vin. They weren't soldiers. I had Mary do some research. Brickhaven's a screw-up. Fort Sumner wired that Brickhaven was dismissed in disgrace from the army six months ago." Chris shook his head till he couldn't stand the pain and then slumped forward, moaning. "I shouldn't have involved her."

Nathan wrapped a bandage around Chris' head. He nodded at Ezra. "Help me get him to my clinic." Ezra came forward, but Chris shoved them both away.

"No. I'm going after Mary."

Nathan almost laughed. "Chris, you ain't going nowhere. You're lucky your head is still attached to your body. Let us take care of this."

Chris grabbed the top of the counter and dragged himself to his feet, swaying dangerously. "It's my fault she was taken. I'm bringing her back."

"You're talking foolishness now. You can barely stay on your feet. You're not going."

Chris glared at Nathan through his one good eye. "Don't try to stop me," he warned.

Nathan sighed and offered up his hands in resignation. Chris was a terrible patient. "I don't care anymore. Go ahead and kill yourself."

Chris staggered outside, one hand holding his head and the other the door frame as he looked for his horse. It stood at the hitching rail. He had intended to ride out to the army camp to find Buck. It seemed that was still the plan, only the stakes were much higher, suddenly.

Ezra turned to Nathan. "Are you just going to let him go?"

Nathan pursed his lips. "He won't get far. He'll pass out any second. Then we'll take him to my place and stitch up that gash."

Vin glanced at the two and then followed Chris outside. The gunfighter made it to his stallion and swayed as his vision darkened. He held onto the saddle horn and fought against unconsciousness. He shook himself and growled. As soon as the weakness passed, he used every ounce of strength to lift himself up into the saddle. He came down hard onto the seat and slumped over his horse's neck, his breath coming in desperate gulps. He raised himself carefully up and looked over at Vin, who nodded and mounted his own steed. They rode off, Chris still clinging to the saddle and Vin sticking close beside him.

Ezra turned innocently to Nathan, his eyebrow raised. "Tell me again, when is he supposed to pass out?"

Nathan expelled a disgusted sigh. "That's a damn stubborn man. Come on. Let's get Josiah. We're going with him."

It didn't take long before they caught up to Chris and Vin. Luckily, they were moving slowly, a testament to how bad Chris was hurting. Nathan rode up beside the hunched-over gunfighter, handing him a flask. "Drink this," he ordered.

Chris regarded the healer suspiciously, his forehead pinched with obvious pain. "What is it?"

"Willow bark tea."

Chris scowled. "Tea?"

"The Indians use it to reduce pain."

"And that's all it does?" Chris asked, debating whether Nathan would be devious enough to slip him something more debilitating. He relaxed for a moment and had to pull himself together sharply as his dizziness returned.

"That's all," Nathan assured him.

Chris drank from the flask, grimacing at the tea's taste, then handed it back to Nathan. "Next time, lace it with some whiskey," he groused.

Nathan shook his head. "Maybe next time you'll just listen to me." He sobered, wishing he could talk some sense into Chris. "At least the tea will give you a fighting chance when you go and do something stupid."

Josiah joined Nathan's crusade. "A frontal assault on an armed camp doesn't sound like a wise idea, Chris."

Chris pressed his fingers hard against his temples. "We're not all going in. Just me."

Josiah and Nathan exchanged dubious looks as Vin turned in the saddle towards Chris. "Can't say I like that idea much, either," the bounty hunter said quietly.

"Silverstone wants a piece of me. I'll let him try for it." Chris flexed his right hand, testing the muscles. They were still stiff and aching, but would have to do.

Ezra leaned close to Nathan. "Is this the 'something stupid' to which you were referring?"

Nathan became annoyed. "What is that going to accomplish, Chris?" The gunfighter was holding onto the saddle horn as if his life depended on it. There was no way Chris would be able to outdraw Silverstone in this condition. The man was barely healed from his last injury.

Chris relayed the rest of his plan. "While I've got their attention, Josiah will find Mary, and the rest of you will take up positions around the camp." The usually quiet Nathan began cursing and finding numerous faults with the situation, but Chris tuned him out. There wasn't any other way to handle this without risking Mary's life.

"Chris, are you sure you want to do this?" Vin asked quietly from the other side.

The gunslinger said nothing for a moment, his green eyes locked onto the darkness ahead of him. "I have to," he said finally, his own voice low, "I can't go back and face that boy without knowing Mary is all right. If something happens to her because of me . . ." He couldn't finish the thought.

Vin finally understood what was driving his friend. "I'll back you up, whatever happens."

Chris grimaced. That used to be Buck's line. He knew Buck and JD were at Brickhaven's camp, and they would be in trouble the minute they found out about Mary. Silverstone, or even Brickhaven, for that matter, would not allow them to interfere with their plans. Despite the pain it caused, Chris spurred his horse faster, the rest following his lead.

Buck, JD and Brickhaven had just finished a quiet meal in the major's tent. They had moved on to whiskey and stories from the past. JD was in his glory. He loved hearing about Buck's exploits. They were fascinating. He had even found out a little about Chris, though he'd carry it to his grave before he let anyone know, especially the gunfighter himself.

Suddenly, Silverstone burst into the tent, a dour expression on his face. He glowered at Buck and JD, and then regarded Brickhaven. "Major, could I see you for a moment?"

"Can it wait, lieutenant? I'm busy." Brickhaven poured Buck another drink.

Silverstone stepped brusquely next to Brickhaven and whispered harshly in his ear. The major went deathly pale.

Buck's eyes narrowed. "Anything wrong?" He didn't much like Silverstone. There was something grating in his manner. The man had no respect for Brickhaven or anyone else. What surprised Buck was that Brickhaven tolerated it. That wasn't like the commander he remembered. He began to seriously consider that fact.

Brickhaven stood abruptly. "No, no. Nothing's wrong. Excuse me a moment." He exited the tent quickly with Silverstone.

JD leaned towards Buck. "What do you think it is, Buck? The major looked awful. You think the payroll wagon got hit?"

Buck's lips were a thin line as he shook his head in answer to JD's question. "Keep your eyes and ears open, JD. I've got a bad feeling." Buck stood and walked to the tent flap, slipping out quietly into the night. Within moments, he could hear Brickhaven's hushed voice and Silverstone's steady louder one carry back to him. They weren't quite out of hearing range.

"Damn it, Adam! This is exactly what I didn't want!"

"Too late, Robert. It's done. They'll be here any time now. You better make up your mind what you're gonna do about them. I'm gathering men to go meet up with the wagon. They're close enough. We'll just hit 'em straight out. Either way, the results are the same."

"The results are NOT the same, you fool. Now we're going to have a posse of men after us."

"So what? I hated all this playacting anyway. Now you have to do something about them."

Brickhaven's next statement made Buck's blood run cold. "What did you do with the newspaper woman?"

"She's in the cook's tent."

"This is all wrong. There was no reason to bring her. It won't stop Chris Larabee from coming here. Trust me, I know."

Silverstone laughed, a cold, chilling sound. "I know. She'll bring Larabee straight to me."

Buck had heard enough. He returned swiftly to JD, who jumped when Buck slipped back into the tent. The scoundrel's usually cheerful face was like stone. "Kid, I want you to slip out the back. Avoid any contact. I don't want them to know you're even breathing out there."

Shocked, JD stood abruptly. "What's going on, Buck?"

"I don't have time to explain it, but I think I've made one hell of a mistake. They've kidnapped Mary Travis and have her in the cook's tent. I'm going to help her. I want you to find the payroll wagon; tell them bandits dressed as the US Cavalry are planning on robbing them. Have them take the mountain road up past Sutter's Mill."

"But that road's hardly ever used."

"Just do it, JD, and do it now!"

JD crawled under the tent and disappeared into the darkness. Five minutes later, Brickhaven returned. With a panicked start, he realized the kid was gone. "Where's the boy?"

Buck slipped into his usual relaxed mode, a huge grin spreading warmly across his face. "He had to relieve himself. Can't hold his liquor too well yet, if you know what I mean. He'll be back, unless he passes out someplace."

Nervously glancing back towards Buck, Brickhaven toyed with the idea that his old friend was telling the truth. He wished there was some other way. Slowly, he lifted his gun from its holster and pointed it at Buck. "I'm sorry," he said tightly.

Buck stared at the weapon, and then up at the Major. His smile faded. "I'm sorry too, Robert."

JD ran through the brush. He was going to need his horse, but he doubted he'd get close enough. As soon as he had slipped through the sentries, the camp had come alive. He had just made the camp's edge when he heard shouting. He saw armed men rushing towards the major's tent. He heard a shot ring out, and his mouth went dry. He stood to run back to offer Buck support when suddenly a hand grasped his shoulder. He spun, reaching for his weapon, and nearly passed out when he saw Josiah's huge frame over him.

"Josiah!"

The preacher released JD's arm and forced the kid to holster his weapon. "Where's Buck?"

"Down there." He pointed out the major's tent, just in time to see Buck dragged out by two soldiers. "We got to help him."

"We will," he said softly, in a calming voice. Now was not the time to be brash. Josiah studied the camp. Suddenly he realized something, and he turned to the boy. "What are you doing out here?"

"Buck told me to get out. He said something was up and that I should go warn the army wagon that these men are gonna rob it. Josiah, they've got Mrs. Travis in the cook tent!" JD glanced back towards the camp worriedly. "Buck said he was gonna rescue her."

A grin crept onto Josiah's face, his own problem solved. He jerked a hand back behind him. "My horse is in that thicket over there. Get on him and do what Buck told you. I'll get Mrs. Travis."

"But what about Buck?" JD asked in desperation. "We can't leave Buck alone down there!"

Josiah nodded reassuringly, and then gestured towards the north end of the camp where Chris Larabee was just riding in. "He's not alone, JD."