Prologue
The Hill

It was raining for three straight days.

He was cold and hungry and a little afraid. The rest of the faces around him were similarly gripped with such feelings, and the pall of doom weighed heavily upon them. They already spent more time in this gully than they should have and no doubt enemy reinforcements were well aware they were here and were closing in. The tightening noose around their necks drove their morale into the dirt, and though he was their lieutenant, he could say or do very little to lift their spirits when their commanding officer was determined to crush it further into dust.

Captain Hannibal Alexander Julius, whose family gave him that auspicious appellation in the hopes the name would somehow affect the person, truly believed he was the military equal of his namesakes. His lack of success on the battlefield was attributed by him to the inefficiency of the men under his command, reinforcing the fantasy he was unrealised genius. 

Meanwhile, the young man who only recently began his tenure as one of Julius's lieutenants, possed enough intelligence to know Julius lacked the necessary characteristic requirements that made Hannibal, Alexander and Caesar the generals they had been.

Unfortunately, lack of ability did not dampen the man's belief he was the greatest commander in the field of the battle currently known to the rest of the world as the American Civil War. Under his command, the highest casualty rate of any platoon was credited to his genius. In his determination to succeed in taking that hill or that enemy encampment, he was willing to risk everyone's life except his own. It deepened the animosity of those who survived his strategies, to know Julius often took the rear when he sent his men into battle, careful the military excellence he represented was not extinguished by his senseless death.

He often spouted such words when he canvassed the field after the battle and sidestepped the bodies of the men he sent to die.

The lieutenant only wanted to survive his tenure in the war. He learned long ago what the price was for breaking the chain of command, and the course his life took following that mistake was burned into him. Standing up for what he believed cost him everything, the respect of his father, the career he might have had and the life he walked away from. He had become a lieutenant thanks to his three years in West Point, and because he distinguished himself enough in prior battles, to earn a battlefield commission. Until that moment, he had not believed he would ever become an officer after his disgraceful departure from West Point and felt that if he could just come out of this war with his skin intact, perhaps he could pick up the reins of his life. Possibly even sum up the courage to face the father he failed so miserably.

Unfortunately, Lieutenant Chris Larabee was starting to suspect he may not even survive the night.

Over the gully where he and his men were entrenched was a hill headquarters decided most empathically had to be taken to spearhead a more extensive invasion. Unfortunately, before that end could be achieved, the platoon of men currently sitting under the teeming rain would have to fight their way to the peak without being massacred by the Confederate contingent giving similar orders to defend the location. Already their numbers were cut down significantly until only a handful of Union soldiers remained. Despite Julius belief sacrificing his men would be a fair price for such a victory, they were unable to break the line of defence the rebels maintained so determinedly over the last four days.

Although the defeat of the Confederate armies was more or less imminent, the enemy was not going down without a fight. The capture of this hill would be a beachhead for the Union to launch its advance into southern territory. It was not just a battle to the Confederates but the end of all things if they were to yield the territory. They knew this and were determined to prevent its capture by any means necessary. Marshalling forces from all across the area, the Rebs were prepared to combat the platoon intending to take the hill. Chris knew as well as the rest of the men in the platoon they would never survive the united assault by those forces if they delayed any longer. Thanks to Julius, even if they did try to take the hill before the arrival of reinforcements, they were hardly a threat. Their numbers were too low. The odds on either side of the coin were not good and no one expected to survive.

Chris watched the men huddled in the rain-filled gully, their boots soaked from the inches of water pooling across the ground, covered in mud and shivering. They did not have a medic and Julius was not about to let any man leave his command, injured or not. Thus the motley collection of mud-covered soldiers, bleeding and demoralised, remained where they were inside the gully. Chris saw them trying to send some warmth into their bodies by running their palms together unable to create the friction that would generate heat because their palms were too wet.

"Larabee!" He heard Julius's voice snap into his brain and conditioning to that voice forced him upright.

The men reacted to Julius's voice through the rain with unmasked contempt and Chris could empathise with the feeling. Taking a deep breath, he lifted himself off the stool he was sitting on, tossing away the coffee grown cold from the rain, before trudging through the walls of the trench. They watched him leave, knowing he was one of their own despite the officer's bars on the uniform. He was not cut from the same cloth as most officers they knew. Without realising it, he had their loyalty from the number of times he stood head to head with Julius, even though he was as powerless as they were.

Chris climbed out of the gully and saw Julius occupying the only tent they had in their possession, dining on hot food and looking decidedly more comfortable than the men with him. Beside him, Sargent Bellison, clearly one of Julius supporters was tending to his needs, more like a valet instead of a soldier. Chris's stomach heaved in disgust at the sight when the rest of platoon had not a dry pair of socks between them while their commanding officer, who stationed himself well away from the danger, indulged himself in whatever luxury there was to be found in this place.

"Captain," Chris announced himself, trying to ignore the aromatic scent of food being prepared over a fire not far from him. His stomach rumbled instinctively, reminding him like the rest of the men who could no doubt smell this enticing aroma soon enough, that he was hungry. "You wanted to see me."

"I've decided that today is the day," Julius announced, standing up from his chair and removing the napkin tucked in his shirt to face the younger man.

"The day for what Sir?" Chris drawled although his dispassionate demeanour belied the fact his insides were knotting with dread.

"The day we take that hill." Julius looked back at Chris like this was something he ought to know without being told.

"Are we expecting reinforcements?" 

Julius' face darkened considerably at the mere suggestion. "What on earth for?"

"Sir, you cannot expect us to take that hill without reinforcements. Our ammunition is down. The men are exhausted after three days in the rain, trying to take that hill over and over again. You send them out there, and all you will be doing is getting them killed."

"Now you listen to me." Julius, who stood shorter than Chris, with dark hair and narrow features, stormed up to his lieutenant. "We are going to take that hill today without reinforcements. I will not be the laughing stock of the entire Union army by asking reinforcements just to take one measly patch of dirt! Am I understood?" He glowered at Chris.

Chris stared at him and knew then the man was insane, but he was a mad man in power, and that made him very dangerous indeed. The lieutenant cast his gaze down at the man's hand and saw it poised over his sabre. He had no doubt if he refused to obey, Julius would not hesitate to attempt running him through with the weapon. Behind them both, Sargent Bellison had stopped what he was doing and had his gun ready to fire in case Chris decided to take this any further.

"Yes, Sir." Chris stepped away from both of them and decided he rather die on the battlefield than at the hands of this twisted duo. "Perfectly."

"I knew you would come to your senses" Julius smiled triumphantly. "You are, after all, an intelligent man. You come from a distinguished pedigree of warriors. You should be able to recognise genius in the making. We will take that hill." He grinned even wider, but Chris had turned on his heels and started walking away before he said anything he might regret.

Chris returned to the gully deciding in the short journey from Julius's tent to the trenches that he was not about to die to fulfil the bastard's delusions of grandeur. They did not have much ammunition left, but they did have dynamite, and that would have to suffice to provide some cover as they tried to traverse the distance between themselves and the Confederate encampment. Julius ordered them to take the hill, but he had not said how giving Chris some room to maneuver. He was barely twenty years old, and while he saw enough combat to know what he was doing, he never actually formulated strategy, let alone lead men on his own.

Chris had never wanted to break the chain of command but, to obey the order given to simply take the hill would end his life on that muddy plain between the two opposing encampments, and Chris was not about to go out this way. His father always said there came time for a man, whether he be a soldier, a doctor or a politician, to find out what he was made of and it looked like the moment for Lieutenant Chris Larabee was finally here.

"We've been ordered to take the hill," Chris announced as he descended into the muddy trench.

The response was predictably incendiary with the understandable outburst of dismay. Fear showed up in their faces but mostly anger at the man who would send them on a suicide run like this. Chris wondered if Julius had any idea how close he was to a full-scale mutiny on his hands unless Chris offered them the solution to keep them all from being court marshalled.

"That crazy bastard is going to git us killed!" A corporal named Henderson spoke up angrily.

"Maybe," Chris said calmly. "But I got a plan. How much dynamite do we have left?" He asked no one in particular.

Finally, a man not much older than himself with dark hair and a cocky look on his face, with no real feeling about the death to come except perhaps annoyance, responded. "We got fourteen sticks of dynamite and fuses." The private replied. He looked younger than Chris but was quite taller and sported a moustache that was struggling to gain prominence on his face but still resembled peach fuzz at this time.

"Wilmington, right?" Chris looked at the private, aware he was transferred to the unit only in the last few weeks. Chris had not had much opportunity to speak to the new arrival before this.

"Yeah," he tipped his cap in Chris's direction. "We got about 14 sticks left, fuses are a little wet, but they'll do."

It would be enough, Chris thought to himself. It had to be. "Get all of it and come with me."

***********

The rain had not stopped pouring, and Chris stared at the path ahead, knowing in the flank of sparse trees, Private Wilmington was waiting. Wilmington was not at all pleased to be left out of the action, but when Chris explained what needed doing and how vital it was to the survival of all, the man was happy to oblige. Despite himself, he could not deny the good-natured private was growing on him. In the meantime, the rest of the men were falling into a line of charge, having received orders to ignore everything Captain Julius might say to them and following the instructions Chris gave them before their formation on the field.

"Remember men," Julius continued his speech to which no one was really listening, concentrating on what they had to do to get out of this situation alive. "When I give the order. You will let nothing get in your way. You will fight to the top of that hill and claim it in the name of the Union!" He exclaimed, expecting them to sound their agreement to his rousing speech with a battle cry of enthusiasm and was disappointed when they did not. Frowning, he stepped aside and watched the row of bayonet's and guns create a jagged phalanx of steel before the men about to go into battle.

Chris did the same, hoping to hell he was right about what he was planning or else a lot of men were going to die. He wondered what his father would do in this situation and then realised if General Larabee were here, they would have taken the hill days ago and need not have any reason to countermand the orders of their commanding officer.

"CHARGE!!!!!!" Julius shouted.

The platoon rushed forward, all eyes watching Chris as he led the advance across the field. The rain was still coming down, and no matter how he may reason this plan was sound, people were always going to die. Chris unsheathed his sabre and held it up high, running through the mud with the rest of the infantryman following when suddenly, Chris dropped the blade and shouted.

"First wave, in position!" Chris ordered and saw the designated men halt in their progress. No sooner than they did, Private Wilmington appeared out of his hiding place and began hurling what sticks of dynamite he had in his possession towards the Confederate encampment. At this distance, he could not possibly hope for the explosives to reach them. However, the following eruptions would create enough disarray for the platoon to cross the space needed before the rebels cut them to pieces. Instead of the standard battle cry uttered where everyone would be alerted to their presence, Chris ordered them to remain silent. The only thing he wished them to hear was the dynamite detonating.

True enough, the thunderous explosions took place shortly before the arrival of the Union soldiers broke through the smoke created in its wake. Although he could not see the rebel encampment, he could imagine the chaos taking place and hoped it was enough. Despite enemy gunfire breaking out, it was halted abruptly as the Confederates tried to decide if the Union had somehow sneaked a canon into the vicinity. It was precisely the illusion Chris was trying to foster but knew the margin between indecision and action would be slight, and so the timing of the attack had to be precise. When the soldiers of the Union blue broke through the clouds of smoke created by multiple explosions, Chris issued another order. "Drop!"

The men at the head of the line immediately fell to their bellies and kept their heads down. Chris waved his sabre at the second line formed with their guns primed to fire. As soon as the signal was given, a loud roar of gunfire escaped, further clearing the way for further advancement. He glanced at the woods and saw Wilmington advanced far enough to begin again and sent another volley of dynamite into the air to coincide with the wall of bullets lying towards the enemy. The barrage continued, and the soldiers of the front line advanced a little further. The strategy alternated between the three phases and amazingly enough, it worked. Eventually, they reached the rebel encampment, closer than they had ever managed in three days of fighting under the command of Captain Hannibal Julius.

The rebel enclave was utterly destroyed by day's end with a surprising number of soldiers in the platoon surviving the engagement. The hill was taken, and the mood of jubilation was shared by everyone in the aftermath of the battle. When it was all said and done, Chris walked the length of the rebel stronghold and found no joy in seeing the broken bodies lying in the mud, even if they were wearing Confederate uniforms. Blue or grey, they were still dead, and the ideology causing their demise was probably the last thing on their minds when the end came.

"Lieutenant!" He heard a voice call after him. Chris turned to see Wilmington hurrying towards him, wearing a big grin on his face, swaggering forward and exulting in the cheers by the others at his part in the battle.

"Private," Chris said, unable to remain disaffected by that intoxicating smile and allowed himself to reciprocate with a shadowy version of the one displayed by the Private.

"I got to say, Lieutenant," Wilmington laughed. "You are one crazy son of a bitch. I thought we were done for."

"Just lucky." Chris shrugged, unwilling to take the credit because they still lost men to this action.

"Lucky my ass…." Wilmington snorted when suddenly, Julius appeared out of nowhere with Bellison at his side. Judging by the stony expressions on the faces of both men, Chris realised it was time to face the music for what he had done. He expected this reaction sooner or later and wanted nothing more than to get it over and done with.

"Larabee!" Julius roared, his face dark with anger. For once, he was not concerned with the victory achieved and was striding towards Chris with purpose. His outburst captured the attention of every soldier present, and they paused what they were doing and shifted their attention to the unfolding drama between the Captain and the lieutenant.

"Yes, Sir?" Chris gave Wilmington a weary look and turned to his commanding officer.

"You countermanded my orders!" The man accused. "I ordered a straight charge! What the hell was that ridiculous manoeuvre you pulled!"

Chris saw no reason to lie to any of the man's accusation. "It got us across the field in one piece, Sir." Chris replied. "A full frontal assault would have cut us down before we even got halfway across the terrain. I countermanded your orders but only so a lot of good men could walk away from this alive, myself included."

With all the death around him, keeping his rank did not mean as much to Chris any more. The taste for command had left him in the last hour. As he was spearing Confederates with the bloody sabre in its scabbard and shooting them left, right and centre, Chris realised a military career did not seem as glorious a vocation as he always dreamed. The General always made it sound so easy, but until now, Chris had not realised just how hard it could be and had no wish to lead men ever again.

"You are a coward," Julius shouted with rage, unable to believe one of his own men was speaking to him like this. He was a genius and if it had not been for Larabee's interference, the day would still have seen it, no matter what ludicrous method this upstart had employed.

"I ain't the one waiting behind the lines while my men get killed, Sir." Chris glared at him directly, finally saying what everyone else was thinking. Court-martial or not, Chris was determined to have that much say at least. Even if he was to be locked up for the rest of the war, it would have been worth it just to educate this man on a few home truths.

"How dare you!" The Captain sputtered in fury, his eyes widening with outrage. "I'll have you drawn and quartered for this! I am your superior officer!"

"No, merely a higher ranking one!" Chris snapped, deciding along with breaking the chain of command, he might as well take a stab at insubordination as well and turned his back on the man.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Julius screeched like a man possessed, but Chris did not care. Around them were dozens of men who would never walk away from anything again and so this little tirade did little to move him. No doubt, Julius would have him before a Board of Discipline, but at the moment Chris was hardly concerned. He was done for the day, and he needed a drink.

Julius saw the lieutenant striding away and looked around to see the sniggers barely hidden by those who remained. The contempt in their eyes was for him, and Julius realised at that instant, he would lose all credibility in their eyes if he allowed such defiance to go unchecked. As it was, this interloper had stolen his victory, with an audacious plan of attack and Julius would tolerate no one taking what was his. Before he even had time to consider his actions, the Captain pulled out his gun.

"LIEUTENANT!" Chris heard Wilmington scream a warning.

Chris reacted immediately to the urgency in that voice and started to turn. Unfortunately, he never managed to face his attacker as the bullet from the Captain's gun tore into his back. The pain was beyond belief as Chris felt the penetration through muscle and flesh. He did not even notice when his legs buckled under him. The last thing he remembered was tumbling to the dirt, into the oblivion of darkness, almost grateful at blissful relief offered by the black.

***********

Chris spent three weeks in a military hospital and then a month in convalescence regaining the use of his legs. The bullet fired by Hannibal Julius nearly severed his spinal cord and could have left him crippled forever. Fortunately, field surgeons were able to extract the piece of lead without that devastating outcome, and Chris later learnt that Private Wilmington was primarily responsible for his arrival at the hospital. Captain Julius was stripped of his bars and dishonourably discharged when the men of his platoon arrested him and his Sargent on the spot after he had shot Chris in the back.

Chris learnt during his time in the hospital, a military tribunal was convened, and the men of his platoon provided damning testimony of Julius's actions as well as bringing to light the incompetence in the man's abilities as a military commander. The result of the tribunal deliberations also credited Chris with the victory of the last battle, and he was summarily promoted. At the same time, Julius was stripped and discharged, facing imprisonment for attempted murder. Chris returned to duty with the platoon under his command and Captain's bars on his uniform. His first action upon returning to combat was to promote Private Wilmington to the rank of Corporal, whom he learnt upon closer acquaintance, preferred to be called Buck.

Chapter One
Bellison

Chris Larabee hated it whenever they came up empty.

The seven were on their way home after spending three hard days following up a lead claiming notorious outlaw Johnny Ringo was in the vicinity and emerged with nothing, leaving Chris with the impression it was a wild goose chase, to begin with. Ringo was developing mythological status as an outlaw, with every two-bit hustler claiming to work with the stone killer at one point or another. As Ezra so succinctly put it and almost convinced Chris beating the man to death might not be a bad thing, 'the Chinese whisper had left them wandering the desert seeking the Promised Land'.

Sometimes, it was worth breaking a few bones just to wipe that smirk off the gambler's face, Chris thought as they rode home.

He realised he was in a foul mood but could not help himself. Three days away from Mary made him anxious. Ever since he learnt about her pregnancy, he felt uncomfortable about leaving her for any length of time. Considering what happened to Sarah and Adam when he last left them, Chris thought he could be forgiven for his paranoia. It would not have been so bad if they actually sighted Ringo, but the information hadn't been all that reliable, to begin with, just enough to set them on the trail.

"So now you and the lovely Doctor Styles had made definitive plans to carry out your nuptials, have you any idea when exactly that will be?" Chris heard Ezra asking Vin as they took the familiar trail home, unable to deny he was feeling better knowing Four Corners was not too far away.

"Nope." Vin shrugged, having been very close-mouthed about setting a date since Alex and he had yet to come to an agreement on that point. "Just know we're gonna do it."

"Well, stay away from Inez," Buck warned. "Woman goes crazy whenever she gets a whiff of one of these things." He recalled how she was during Chris and Mary's wedding and knew the twitching he saw in her eyes over the last few weeks was just the first symptom of her desire to plan Alex and Vin's nuptials.

"Considering what a romantic exercise in sentiment, her own ceremony was, I wonder why." Ezra looked at him sarcastically. "I mean she hardly had the wedding of her dreams now did she?"

"Yeah," Nathan chuckled. "Most of the time, the bride and groom say I do and kiss. In your case, you two said the words and had a baby!"

"Adds new meaning to the term shotgun wedding," Josiah joined in the gentle teasing.

"That's it," Vin came to a decision after seeing what poor Buck was going through at this moment. "We're getting out of town to get hitched."

"You wish," Buck snorted, unperturbed by any of the comments made by his so-called friends because he would not change a thing about how he and Inez were joined. The day of their marriage coincided with the arrival of their little girl, and nothing could make either of them regret the lack of ceremony. "Ain't gonna happen."

"Why?" Vin met his gaze pointedly. "Alex said she doesn't want any fuss."

"Hah!" Buck guffawed. "They all say that, and I can tell you now that it is the greatest lie since Ezra said he's an honest businessman now."

"Hey!" Ezra burst out. "Mr Wilmington, I take umbrage at that remark."

"Hate to admit this pard," Chris who had no wish to get involved in this debate but was forced to support Buck on this issue, in case Vin embarked upon a course of action that would get him disembowelled by his lady. "But he's right. She'll want a wedding."

"See?" Buck grinned, glad to see Chris being supportive on this issue since his own nuptials was a three-ringed circus, though no one in their right mind would dare say to the gunslinger's face. "No matter what they say about not wanting a big wedding with all the trimmings, no matter how rough and tumble they are, how independent they claim to be or hell for that matter, how above all the fuss they are, every woman wants a big wedding."

"Every woman?" JD asked, looking to the faces of his older contemporaries to see if they were in agreement with Buck's statement. While JD never brought up the subject with Casey, since they were not even engaged, let alone thinking about marriage, he could not imagine her in a white dress, flowers or a veil.

"I concur with Mr Wilmington on this my young friend." Ezra agreed. "It is a kind of disease, really. This charming creature to whom you have pledged your life suddenly becomes this terrifying harpy who requires cake, place cards and bridesmaids. I've seen men fall into their web before, it is not a pretty sight."

"Alex ain't like that at all," Vin refused to believe his level headed and sensible doctor could be so typically feminine.

"Sure, she ain't," Buck said with a straight face.

"Whatever you say pard," Chris added, making a note to be present to scoop up whatever pieces of Vin were left after he made that decision known to Alex.

"We shall remind you of this conversation when you are fitted for your suit." Ezra grinned and delighted in the horrified expression on Vin's face at the concept of wearing anything other than his buckskins.

"Hopefully it will be for the wedding and not a funeral." Nathan tried to maintain his composure, but couldn't quite manage it and had to turn away to keep from laughing.

"Ah Vin," Josiah smiled "So young, so much to learn."

JD could only say, "Every woman?"

***********

Four Corners was less than an hour's ride when they came across the convoy of wagons travelling across the open spaces before the town. The procession of covered wagons rumbled through the knee-length covering of dried grass turned golden from the heat of the sun and were driven by men who did not at all look like the settlers. The seven did not reveal themselves immediately upon sighting the group, and Vin was promptly despatched to ensure the nature of these travellers before the rest of the lawmen crossed their paths.

Vin rode far enough ahead so he could use his eyeglass without being seen. It was a regular practice for Chris to send him ahead, mostly because he knew better than the others, how to approach stealthily without anyone noticing him. Vin had a tendency to fade into the background, and he knew how to observe without drawing attention to himself. Years of tracking buffalo taught him the consequences were quite grave if those formidable creatures discovered his presence. One would not guess to look at them, but buffalo could be pretty ornery when they caught humans spying on them.

Vin dismounted Peso before they reached the crest of the last hill and found themselves on top of the convoy. He kept low as he neared the peak and dropped to his haunches, allowing the long blades of grass to mask his presence as he held up the telescope and looked through it. It did not take him long following his initial observation to realise the convoy was not at all a wagon train on its way to tame some new piece of land no one had yet to stake a claim on. The absence of women gave that away unless it was a settlement of funny cowboys like the one Buck had the distinction of escorting when his..her...whatever...wig had blown off in the wind.

Jokes aside, the men riding into those wagons and horses playing escort to the procession were up to serious business. They were all heavily armed, with rifles and gun belts around their waists. Vin tried to see what was in the back of those wagons but could not get a clear enough look beyond the fact that they were boxes. There was some heavy artillery accompanying these wagons, and Vin became more and more confident that something was amiss. Deciding he had seen enough, Vin quickly withdrew the way he came, maintaining his anonymity until he climbed Peso and headed back to Chris and report what he had observed.

***********

Feeling the tingling sensation, he could never explain but was almost always right about danger, Chris and the rest of the seven approached as close as they dared. It did not take long before Vin joined them and related what he had seen. Chris took a deep breath, more confident than ever that they had stumbled upon something, although he could not discern at this time whether or not that something was a danger to them or Four Corners.

"You say they're only carrying boxes?" Chris mused, trying to think about what could be the point of the journey.

"Maybe they're carrying supplies." Buck pointed out, unable to dismiss the most plausible explanation.

"Carrying a lot of guns for supplies." Vin drawled because his sense of trouble was just as acute as Chris's, and the situation did not look right in his opinion. "That many boxes, wonder why they don't take it on the railroad."

"It could be these gentlemen prefer their cargo to remain anonymous," Ezra added.

"Could be where they're going ain't got railway lines yet," Nathan suggested. However, like the rest of his companions, he found the situation odd. "Still, we are the law in these parts, the closest thing to it anyway. We could search for them."

"They don't look like the kind who are going to appreciate that." Vin pointed out even if he was all for Nathan's idea. He wanted to know what was in those boxes as well, not merely to satisfy his curiosity but because the men who were guarding their cargo seemed ready to kill for it. Anything engendering that much protection could not be legal or safe for that matter.

"Well, then we'll ask them real nice." Chris dug his heels into his mount, expecting the others to follow him. As the horse galloped away towards the convoy, the rest of the seven fell behind their leader. This time, the arrival of seven men on horseback could not be masked by any trick of stealth and the moment, they crested the hill, Chris knew they were seen. However, he did not intend to get into a shooting match just yet, not until they knew what was being carried.

With a fort now established in the Territory, it was not wrong to assume what was in those crates could be bound for the army. Still, Chris had a good relationship with its commander, Major Lucas Simmerson. He knew Simmerson would have warned him if an army convoy was travelling across the Territory covertly. Furthermore, Chris knew the army was not prone to allowing civilians to freight their supplies, particularly ones so sensitive it would require a convoy impersonating a wagon train of settlers. Judging by Vin's description, Chris very much doubted these men were soldiers in disguise either.

When they peaked the crest of the hill, Chris knew they were being watched. In the distance, they could see the convoy come to a halt. While that in itself was nothing unusual, Chris unfastened the flap on his holster. Vin was checking the Winchester nestled in the makeshift holster at his hip. The others were doing the same, aware their progress was now being scrutinised carefully. Josiah remained impassive, but he pushed his dark coat behind his holster, while Nathan used one arm to remove his jacket, freeing up the assortment of knives he wore on his person for use if it came down to a fight.

***********

The convoy did not move once it sighed the strangers. They travelled for many miles without being accosted and had to assume this streak of anonymity could not last forever. Still, every man prepared himself for a fight as the seven riders closed the distance. The nature of their cargo made a firefight difficult, but by the same token, they could not allow it to be discovered either. There was too much at stake to let things unravel because of this unexpected visitation.

***********

Chris rode towards the lead wagon once they closed in on the convoy, hoping there would be a good reason their presence but found that he did not mind if they chose to be hostile. Lately, after becoming a horse rancher, a husband and a father, Chris's reputation as being the original bad element was suffering a lack of credibility and secretly, he longed for action to convince him that he had not changed that much.

"Fan out," Chris ordered as they approached the convoy. If it did get ugly, it was wise to have the perimeter secured. Josiah, Buck and Ezra took off in one direction, while Vin stayed at his side with Nathan and JD heading off in the other direction. As they spread out over the flat plain, Chris saw guns peeking through the seams of the canvas tents stretched over the wagons and knew with certainty they were not just facing a bunch of travellers but something more sinister.

Chris and Vin slowed as they approached the lead wagon, their horses trotting forward at a casual pace as they reached the two men who were behind the reins. The driver was no one that Chris knew, but, he had the kind of face that faded quickly into the background. Most of his features were hidden behind the tan coloured hat he was wearing, but he looked like any cowhand Chris might see in the saloon on a Saturday night. His companion, however, was another thing entirely.

Chris recognised him immediately and was confident the man knew who he was too. His hair was longer and certainly greyer, with a drooping moustache that did not look too different from Buck's, with a goatee protruding off the edge of his chin, just as greying.

"Bellison." 

There was no need for introductions or reminders as Bellison's intense hazel coloured eyes snapped to his face at the remark. 

"Lieutenant." He let the word slip out of his mouth like it was something foul he wanted to spit out.

"You know him?" Vin asked Chris immediately, seeing the tightening of Chris's jaw and the anger filtering into his eyes that was unusual for Chris. Typically, in the face of the enemy, Chris was impassive, never one to show his hand until he was ready to strike. For real anger to penetrate that mask of cold indifference, Vin saw the situation shifting from potential to definitive trouble.

"I know him," Chris said shortly, knowing by just the look in Bellison's face he was up to no good and if Chris had any doubts his desire to search the contents of those crates was unjustified, seeing Bellison here wiped all that away.

"How long has it been Lieutenant?" Bellison asked.

"Long enough," Chris replied tautly, not about to leap into the fray just yet and reminded himself he had a job to do, not embark upon any personal vendettas to which a military tribunal had already settled on his behalf. "What are you carrying Bellison?" He asked, watching the man with his reflexes ready to move at a moment's notice.

"Don't see how it's any of your business, Lieutenant." Bellison used the appellation like it was a bad word.

"Me and my friends are the law in these parts." Chris answered, inwardly flinching each time Bellison called him 'Lieutenant' and fought the urge to put a bullet in the man's head just as he had stood by and allowed Hannibal Julius to put a shot in Chris's back so many years ago. The pain of his convalescence came back to haunt him, not to mention the terrifying moment when he woke and found his legs were numb. The swelling from the bullet wound pressing up against his spine was the reason for the temporary paralysis. Still, the few seconds, before that diagnosis was explained to him, was the most frightening seconds of Chris Larabee's entire life.

 Bellison and his companion took stock of the men surrounding his convoy of wagons before turning back to Chris. "So I see, and that gives you the right to search my property without my say so."

"I guess it does," Chris responded a slow smile of pleasure at this little bit of upset for Bellison, crossed his face when he spoke. "Please, give me some trouble. I wouldn't mind shooting you if I can."

Vin's eyes widened in surprise while Bellison's narrowed. Vin had never seen Chris so inflamed and wondered what on earth this man did to the gunslinger to engender such hatred. Obviously, they must have known each other during the war since Bellison kept referring to Chris as Lieutenant."

"Look," Vin spoke up since Chris was not thinking straight. "We keep the peace around here. It looks might suspicious for a convoy to be travelling through the Territory looking like settlers but ain't." He tried to be the voice of reason because he had the feeling the slightest provocation was going to trigger Chris's fierce desire to make this man pay for some past grievance.

"Ain't gonna happen." The other man barked. "You ain't got no right to search us. We ain't done nothing."

"Shut up Clancy." Bellison snapped, his gaze still fixed upon Chris and understood that this chance meeting was under the worst possible circumstances. "You ain't got no right to do this Lieutenant. You know it, and I know it. You just mad because of what happened."

No sooner than those words had crossed his lips, Chris pulled out his gun and trained the barrel squarely between Bellison's eyes. "If you call me Lieutenant one more time, I will kill you." He warned and made sure the man knew it was no idle threat since Chris fully intended to do it if Bellison gave him cause.

Vin could see the menace in Chris's eyes and knew as well as Bellison, how close he stood on the periphery. The man swallowed anxiously and looked around himself and his convoy to take stock of the other lawmen surrounding him as if trying to make a decision. Vin's own hand was poised over his Winchester, but in truth, he was uncertain who ought to be restrained, Bellison or Chris. There was a lot of anger inside his best friend at the moment, and it would take only a nudge for Chris to go over the edge. When Chris Larabee was properly fired up, he could be as mean as a rattlesnake. Cletus Fowler could attest to that.

If he were still alive.

"Alright," Bellison conceded at last. "Do what you got to."

"But…." His companion started to protest almost immediately.

"Just shut up Clancy," Bellison barked angrily. "The sooner we get this over and done with, the better it will be for us. They ain't got no reason to hold us for our cargo, and they know it."

"Glad you decided to be reasonable," Chris said, lowering his gun when suddenly, Bellison went for his and fired so quickly that if Chris had not ducked, the bullet would have gone through his skull. A second shot exploded from the side of the wagon, cutting through the sharpshooter's shoulder. Peso reared up in fright as the bullet whizzed past his ear and toppled Vin from the saddle. As Chris recovered from the deception, Bellison had picked up the reins and snapped them hard. The wagon bolted forward as gunfire erupted from all around them.

"Vin!" Chris shouted, looking down at the tracker who was down in the dirt, picking himself painfully from the ground, clutching an injured shoulder.

"I'm okay!" Vin reassured him. "Go after that, bastard!"

Chris did not need to be reminded twice. He dug in his heels into the side of his horse, sending the animal off into a powerful surge of acceleration as it galloped forward after the wagon that trailed a cloud of dust and dirt in its sudden departure.

Meanwhile, the other wagons attempted to make the same hasty departure, but Nathan and JD immediately cut them off, riding in hard and fast across the path they would have to take, with guns blazing. However, it appeared that even though their route of escape had been severed, they had no intention of allowing anyone to reach their cargo. Through a hail of bullets managed to drive the duo back far enough to dismount their wagons and get into a defensive position in readiness for a fight. The wagons were soon circled in traditional formation as if they were settlers fighting off Indians or something of the like.

Nathan and JD began shooting, aiming in particular for the men hiding behind the canvas. If there was any doubt that they were ferrying something illegal, it had been more or less swept away by the ferocity of the defence being mounted against the lawmen. Nathan and JD kept on their horses, using speed to keep them from harm as they started shooting. The enemy's fire was mostly concentrated underneath the wagons. JD unleashed a barrage at that vulnerable location that ripped through the bodies of the men shooting at them. A rifle barrel peeked through the seams of covered wagon and Nathan saw the movement of someone taking aim at the youth.

"JD, duck!" Nathan ordered and fired at the shooter before he could fire.

JD let himself slide to one side of his saddle as he rode by the wagon and felt the bullet whizz by close enough to know if not for Nathan's timely warning, he would have been done for.

"Thanks, Nathan!" JD grinned with cocky pride before breaking off to reload his gun in safety as Buck had drilled into his head on so many occasions.

Nathan saw the crimson stain of blood expanding against the white canvas of the wagon covering after he had killed JD's would-be killer. The silhouette of the dead body could be seen pushing up against the canvas. However, the guardians of the convoy were far from done. There were still a good number of them that were being left to the ministrations of Buck, Josiah and Ezra.

The three lawmen were carrying out the same manoeuvre, circling the tents like they were rampaging Indians. Buck for the life of him could not imagine what was so important that these men were willing to die for what was inside these crates. While it would be easier to simply yield the day and allow the search, they had opted to fight a battle where they had very little chance of winning. Buck noticed they were trying to draw as much of the fire away from the wagons. If the big man didn't know better, he would have thought what was inside the crates was too precious to be damaged, even at the cost of their lives.

Buck saw movement through the canvas and concentrated his gunfire on that spot. His bullets tore through the canvas barrier and the splatter of red against the white made a contrasting confirmation that he had nailed his target. Although Buck could not completely see the man amid his death throes, he saw the barrel of a shotgun as both man and weapon hit the floor of the wagon. The impact of the firearm against the buckboard accidentally discharged the gun, because aloud boom tore through the air.

It was nothing in comparison to what followed. 

The entire wagon was blown apart, along with anyone who might have been taking refuge beneath it. The fireball spread outwards and incinerated the horses hitched to the carriage, before contracting into a solid wall of flames. The terrible scream of horses in their death throes lasted only seconds before Buck recovered his senses enough to shoot the poor animals to end their fiery torture. The men below the wagon needed no such mercy. The explosion had more or less killed them instantly.

"Jesus Christ!" Buck yelled, horrified by the blazing inferno before them.

"What the hell was that?" Vin, who was on his horse again rode next to Buck, who was frozen in place after that spectacle. There was debris of flaming pieces of wagon covering the immediate area, spread out in a wide radius.

"They must have dynamite in those crates!" Vin responded as he struggled to keep Peso steady. All the horses were spooked by the terrible blast and were itching to bolt.

"Dynamite doesn't go up like that!"

Whatever it was, the explosion had more or less ended the fight with the men defending the other wagons abandoning their posts. While the lawmen's attention had been focussed on the blast, they emerged from their hiding places, hands up and weapons dropped to the ground, deciding cargo capable of so much destruction was not worth defending anyone of them could get killed doing it.

"This ain't worth it Mister!" One of them shouted as he approached the lawmen with his hands raised. "We were paid to transport this stuff, no one said anything about getting blown up sky-high doing it." A short, rotund looking man with a mouth full of rotten teeth said as he kept his hands where they could be seen.

"What's the cargo?" Vin asked, glad the fighting was over because his shoulder throbbed from where he had fallen. The bullet that had grazed its shoulder had done very little damage thanks to the buckskin jacket he wore. The fall had caused him more pain than the gunshot.

"Don't know Mister," the man answered truthfully, anxiously keeping an eye on all the weapons aimed at him the rest of his companions. "We were paid real well, but we weren't told where it was going or why. We were only supposed to follow Bellison to the drop-off." 

"Alright," Vin nodded, deciding that there was enough fear in that face to warrant the information he was volunteering to be the truth. "Brother Josiah, Nate, JD, you want to round these boys up, while me and Buck take a look-see?" Vin asked as he nudged Peso forward to one of the intact and abandoned wagons.

"Always happy to oblige," Josiah tipped his hat towards the youthful tracker and reached for the rope hanging from his saddle. He dismounted a moment later and approached the men while JD and Nathan kept their guns trained on anyone of the men who decided to have a change of heart regarding the terms of their surrender.

"Where's Chris?" Buck inquired as he and Vin trotted toward the nearest wagon.

"He went after the guy in front. Seems Chris knew him." Vin replied. "Though I can't say I've ever seen Chris so fired up to shoot someone, except maybe Fowler and Ella."

"Well that ain't saying much," Buck admitted having known Chris in the days before the seven and Mary. After Sarah and Adam had died, Chris's temper required little to set the gunslinger off on one of his rampages.

"No, this was kind of personal," Vin stated, understanding what Buck was talking about since they were all privy to the infamous Larabee moods.

"Who was he?" Buck asked, feeling his curiosity piqued.

"I think he said his name was Bellison."

Buck turned to Vin sharply. "Bellison? Are you sure he said Bellison?"

 Realising that Buck knew who this person was as well, Vin nodded quickly. "Yeah, that's what Chris called him. He kept calling Chris, Lieutenant."

"Shit!" Buck swore under his breath, very troubled by this. "I hope Chris doesn't kill him."

The subject was temporarily suspended when both men climbed into the back of the wagon. Buck and Vin sighted the crates these men had been willing to defend so fiercely until that tremendous explosion changed their minds. All boxes were nailed shut as the two men examined them closely and discovered that the wagon space was almost filled with their volume. Finally, Buck found a crowbar and prised the wooden lid off since Vin was in no shape to do so with his injured shoulder.

The lid came off with a crack of sound, with Buck the nails used were driven deep into the wood. Whoever sealed up the contents of these boxes wanted to ensure it would not take much effort to remove the lids once they arrived at their destination. Inside the crates were tall jars, sealed at the top with a clear fluid. For a minute, neither knew what they were looking at until they made the connection to the explosion.

"Oh shit," Buck whispered and immediately pushed himself away from the crates, amazed they had not blown themselves to kingdom come after all the shooting and gunplay going on during the last half hour.

"Yeah." Vin nodded in agreement and then came to another startling realisation when he remembered Chris. "Christ!" He swore loudly and quickly scrambled out of the back tray, wincing at the pain produced by his injured arm.

"Hey, watch it!" Buck hissed at the tracker for making the wagon bounce a little bit from his sudden movement during his departure. Buck himself took as much care as he hurried out of the cart, unprepared to die in such a dramatic fashion, at least not for another thirty to forty years at least. "I ain't ready to die yet!" He cursed as he jumped out of the vehicle. The tracker did not waste any time as he hurried to his horse and mounted Peso, ignoring the injury to his shoulder as he rode towards the direction the gunslinger had gone in his relentless pursuit of the man called Bellison.

***********

Chris fired again.

The hired gun at the back of the wagon was doing his absolute best to ensure Chris did not close the distance that separated the cart from his black gelding. It thundered forward, trying desperately to outrun Chris even though it was a futile effort With less of a load to carry and not required to run in tandem as the horses yoked to the wagon was required to do, the gelding narrowed the gap quickly. Chris kept his head down as he fired, making each bullet count and forcing the shootist trying to kill him, further into behind the obscurity of the canvas. The more he pushed the man back, the quicker he was able to bring himself towards the tray's edge. Chris paid little attention to where they were going, aware only that Bellison was on the wagon and tried to kill him again.

He looked up during the pause in firing and saw the hired gun withdrawing further into the wagon to reload his rifle. Knowing that the narrow margin of time taken to reload the weapon was the opening he needed to get to the buckboard, Chris pushed his horse harder, until the black gelding was galloping forward in a blur of speed. He took careful aim as he saw the man glancing up anxiously, trying to reload his shotgun before Chris closed the distance between them. There was a moment of clarity when both men met each other's eyes and one realised that it was too late. The gunslinger pulled the trigger on his peacemaker and saw his opponent stagger backwards when the bullet found its target, the enemy's gun tumbling out of his hand and bouncing out of the wagon harmlessly before disappearing behind them as the wagon and its pursuer left it behind.

The man collapsed into a heap, his blood running across the floorboards of the wagon while droplets were whisked away by the wind as the team of horses maintained their frantic speed to escape Chris. With that opposition out of the way, the distance between the two was quickly shortened, and very soon Chris found himself nearing the edge of the wagon. He could see the crates sliding across the floor precariously and once again, he wondered what Bellison was so determined to hide. The gelding continued at its relentless pace forward, answering its rider's desire to catch up. The gelding came up the side of the wagon, and Chris jumped free of the saddle into the back tray. Chris landed on his knees and immediately leapt out of the way when Bellison shot at him. He rolled to his feet swiftly and fired back. Unfortunately, his bullet did not hit Bellison but the driver. Chris felt his stomach hollow knowing he had shot a man in the back but had little time to soul search on the matter since it had been an accident and Bellison had been shooting at him. When the driver slumped over the seat, Bellison met Chris' gaze and decided that staying was not worth it, considering what they were carrying in those crates that his pursuer had no idea about.et

As Chris hurried up the length of the wagon, Bellison jumped off the speeding carriage into the soft grass. It continued its juggernaut pace, and Chris emerged at the head of it to see Bellison being left behind as the horses kept running ahead. Looking before him, The wagon was nearing the edge of a ravine and knew if he did not bring the team of horses to a halt, it could end very badly for everyone concerned.

"Chris!" He suddenly heard Vin shouting as the tracker rode up fast beside the wagon, struggling to catch up.

Chris searched for the driver's reins and saw that they had slipped below the wagon and there was no way to retrieve it unless he was willing to get in between the harness of both animals and pick it up from the ground where it was dragging. The ravine was starting to loom closer in the distance, and Chris knew if he did not get off this wagon soon, he would go over the edge with it. Still, Chris was unwilling to let the horses plunge to their deaths if it could be avoided. Standing up, he took a step back and braced himself on the seat, even though the wagon was rocking precariously and balance was not easily maintained. Taking a deep breath, he took two quick steps forward and launched himself onto the back of one of the frantic horses.

"Chris!" Vin shouted again, having seen Chris performed that minor feat of daring. "Get off that thing!"

The horses were extremely spooked, and despite Chris's best efforts to calm them down into stopping, they still continued rapidly towards the edge. He tried pulling on the bridle of the animal he had mounted to bring it to a stop, but the horse was too panicked. It was galloped even faster, driven by adrenaline and fear.

"Chris, you got to get off there!" Vin rode harder and faster, pushing Peso the edge of its limits as he came alongside Chris. "That wagon's full of nitro!" 

Nitro? Chris glanced over his shoulder because the word penetrated his stubborn determination to get his hands on Bellison. It was something of a miracle he had not been blown to pieces already. He finally understood why Bellison had decided to cut loose and run.

"Hell!" Chris swore under his breath and saw what Vin intended as the tracker tried to narrow the space between Peso and the horse Chris was presently situated. He secured his footing to perform the manoeuvre required once Vin was in position and felt terrible the horses could not be saved. The edge was becoming dangerously close, and Chris knew if he was going to make the leap, it would have to be now.

Finally, Vin was in position, extending his hands towards the gunslinger. Chris looked ahead, seeing nothing but space in front of him as the wagon started to run out of ground. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Vin's arm and jumped off the horse, barely making it onto the saddle before Vin pulled him into place. He saw the tracker wince in pain and realised that Vin had offered him his injured arm. The wagon continued on its way, and both men could only watch helplessly as it reached the edge and showed no signs of stopping.

Chris and Vin watched in morbid fascination as the wagon went over the ravine and flinched at the sound of terrified horses who probably came out of their stupor long enough to realise they had condemned themselves to die. Terrified screeches followed the horses' descent, and Chris took comfort in the fact, the animals would die quickly. 

The explosion rocked the ground when the glycerin ignored. The resulting column of fire reached the top of the cliff and could be seen by both Chris and Vin as they approached the edge. Smoke billowed from the ground, and they were able to see through their stinging eyes, the cindered remains of the wagon and horses, consumed by the ball of fire. They could smell the scent of burning horseflesh, making their stomachs curl with distaste. Debris was scattered over the area, and Chris could only watch the flames, mesmerised by the dance of fire as his mind thought about Bellison and their history.

"Thanks, Vin," Chris said, grateful the tracker had come after him before his vengeance turned the fire below into his funeral pyre.

"Don't mention it, pard," Vin answered smoothly. "I didn't see where Bellison went though." At the time, he was too concerned with reaching Chris after learning what dangerous cargo the wagon was carrying.

"That's okay," Chris frowned. "He'll turn up again."

However, Chris did not say what was really on his mind. As far as he knew, Sargent Bellison should be languishing inside an army prison for what he'd done at the side of Captain Hannibal Julius. If he was not incarcerated but free, then where was Julius? 

Was Hannibal Julius out here too? 

Chapter Two
Fires of the Soul

There were bodies everywhere. He was gagging on a breath thick with the scent of old blood. It curdled the air and left a lingering stench of death against the overpowering backdrop of the carnage around him. He woke up into hell, or so he thought when he opened his eyes after an eternity of black and thought for a moment he died. Around him were broken bodies, writhing in shock and pain. He saw amputees kicking non-existent legs and screaming to doctor and nurses who were trying hard to keep them from trying to stand, defiant in the belief they were still whole. He saw grey-skinned doctors, working tirelessly, their aprons stained with so much blood they looked like butchers in a slaughterhouse, not physicians.

He suspected they felt the same.

When Lieutenant Larabee woke up, he saw all that and wished he was dead because he could not feel his legs. The panic gripping him was the worse he ever knew in his life, and he descended into a fit of terror, he started screaming for someone to tell him that what he was feeling below the waist was not what he feared.

"Easy there, Lieutenant!" He heard a voice alongside his bed, holding him down just like the amputee in the next bed needed to be held down.

"Chris!" He gasped. "My name is Chris!"

"I know that Sir," Buck Wilmington repeated himself, putting his considerable strength into pinning his shoulder to the bed and forcing the lieutenant who never seem to be afraid of anything to calm down and look into his face. "It ain’t what you think. You’re okay. Really!"

"I can’t feel my legs!" Chris screamed. His life was over! He was a cripple! He couldn’t walk! Couldn’t have children! Couldn’t even be a man!

"It’s temporary!" Wilmington stated firmly. "You got my word on that, Lieutenant!"

"Chris." Chris looked at his face and knew his words were in earnest. The genuine compassion and sincerity in the private’s face bled away his fear and slowly, he descended from the altitude of terror into a calmer state of mind.

"Chris," Wilmington said with a faint smile as if he could not accustom himself to calling Chris any other thing. "I know you can’t feel nothing but the doctors said this might happen." He continued to speak, unwilling to let this man who saved his life and a whole lot of others, endure this ordeal alone. "The bullet almost crippled you, but they managed to get it out before it did any permanent harm. They did say it went in fairly close to your back and when you get hit like this, there’s some sort of swelling inside that pushes against nerves. That’s why you can’t feel anything. When it goes down again, you’ll get feeling back in your legs."

Chris eased back into his pillow, the fight dissipating, and something was comforting about having Wilmington around. "What happened?" He managed to ask after a few seconds.

"Ain’t no reason to talk about that now Sir," Wilmington said evasively.

"Don’t make me pull rank on you Private." Chris gave him a look, tinged with a faint hint of a smile which created a broader one on Wilmington’s face.

"Okay Sir," he answered, sobering up as if he found the subject distasteful. "It was Captain Julius. He shot you in the back. The men grabbed him and Bellison after he did it. Guess he underestimated how grateful they were to you after saving their necks the way you did."

"How did I get here?" Chris croaked. His throat felt dry, and he needed water. He was glancing at the side of his cot, hoping there was a pitcher of the stuff nearby when he saw Wilmington already reaching for it to pour him a cup. The private held it to his lips, and Chris took greedy gulps. It felt as if he had been out for days, and his mouth was full of cotton.

"After we took care of Bellison, me and a couple of volunteers walked off the line to get you here," Wilmington explained before putting the cup back on the small table next to his cot.

Suddenly Chris had a premonition he owed his life to this man who was most likely the reason for his being brought here to this field hospital. "Thanks, Wilmington." Chris found himself saying.

"My friends call me Buck."

Chris met his gaze and let a hollow smile steal across his face. "Buck it is."  

***********

"Chris!" Buck’s voice snapped him back to the present, and Chris turned back to his old friend who was waiting for an answer to a question he had not heard.

"What?" Chris asked, trying to remember what Buck and Vin were saying when his mind drifted off into the past.

"I said we can’t bring this stuff back to town," Buck frowned, wondering where Chris had been the last two minutes. He certainly was not on the plains where they intercepted the convoy of wagons and was now attempting to discern its fate. "This much nitro is going to bring someone’s attention. We ought to hide it until we know what to do with it."

"Concerns me what so much of it is doing out here." Nathan declared cleaning the wound on Vin’s shoulder to keep it from aggravation until he could return to Four Corners where it could be tended to properly. "This much nitro is enough to start a small war." The healer glanced briefly at the four remaining wagons still remained intact after two of its number was destroyed.

"Obviously they were going somewhere with it," Ezra answered, and Chris had to focus for a moment to shake the fog over his brain. This entire situation with Bellison awoke some very unpleasant memories for Chris, and he had trouble concentrating on the present when so much of the past kept surfacing.

"What happened to Bellison?" Chris asked suddenly, slicing neatly through their speculations.

"Josiah and I rode around looking for him," JD spoke up gingerly, a little fearful of the hard edge he heard in Chris's s voice. If a word could be put to the gunslinger’s mood at this moment, JD was certain ‘filthy’ would have done quite nicely. Chris was a volcano about to erupt, and he was making all his friends nervous. "We couldn’t find any sign of him."

"Man’s good." Josiah rumbled with an unhappy scowl on his face before Chris could respond to JD’s findings. "We didn’t even see any tracks."

"He used to be an Indian scout before the war," Chris responded. As a Sargent under his command, Chris was required to know Bellison’s history. "Pretty good one from what I heard." He reached into his duster for his cheroot. Suddenly, he needed a smoke real bad. A drink would have to wait until after he got into town.

"So what are we going to do about the nitro?" Vin asked, flinching a little when Nathan tightened a bandage around his injured bicep.

"Hide it," Buck repeated his thoughts on the matter. "Ain’t no way that Bellison could have anything to do with the army if he was running things. If it ain’t the army, then it can’t be legal. Railroad construction use dynamite, not nitro. You’re looking to do some serious damage with that kind of firepower."

No one could argue with Buck’s statement. After seeing how the wagon was literally obliterated by one stray shotgun pellet, there was no denying the precarious nature of the cargo.

"Okay, so we hide it. Where?" Josiah looked at his companions in question. "We ought to keep it out of sight."

Chris tended to agree with the preacher and considered what ought to be done with the wagons and their cargo. "We’ll take it to the ranch for now." He said after a moment. "Josiah, you and JD will keep guard on it once we get there. We’ll keep these men in jail for now, at least until we can work out what this nitro meant for."

"We must attempt to find out to whom it was destined to reach." Ezra pointed out. "Explosive in this quantity has a purpose, not to mention someone must have paid a tidy sum to purchase it. I think our concerns ought to be focussed on who might come searching in an attempt to reclaim their property."

"Ezra’s right," Chris agreed with the gambler, having contemplated that himself. "The sooner we get it off our hands, the better. We’d be inviting a lot of trouble by hanging on to it, and we can’t just hand it to anyone either. Its gonna have to be the army."

"Well one thing is for sure," Vin started to say and then hissed at Nathan when the healer secured the bandage and kept it from unravelling by use of a safety pin. He scowled at Nathan who returned a look of warning he better stay still or face iodine later. The tracker decided against it and turned back to the topic of conversation. "Whatever that stuff was meant for, it ain’t legal like Buck said. You don’t move nitro this way, not unless you want it kept real quiet."

"I’ll get back to town and wire Simmerson," Chris replied, deciding the army was the only one who had any business with this type of munitions and would know how to dispose of it or at least take the problem off their hands. Still, Chris wanted to know what part of Bellison played in all this. Whatever it was, Chris was sure it was no good. The appearance of Bellison now sparked other concerns, in particular, the fate of Hannibal Julius. Chris assumed the man was languishing in prison since the last days of the war but if Bellison was out, then what of the Captain himself?

Chris did not add the reason he wanted to wire the army was not merely to tell them about the nitro and ridding themselves of a powder keg of trouble, but also to make some inquiries into Julius’s ultimate fate.

"We ought to clear out one of the wagons," Buck suggested. "That lot don’t look too happy to ride shotgun to the stuff after what happened to the other two."

Chris could hardly blame them for that. Before he and Vin returned, Buck and the others tied up the men guarding the shipment and rounded them into one place to move them back to Four Corners. The gunslinger glanced at the unhappy faces tied up and disarmed waiting for judgement, and knew they bore close watching until they were behind bars.

"Okay," Chris agreed with that plan. "There should be room to clear out one since the others don’t need space for a guard and supplies any more. Untie a few of them and get them to do the unloading Buck." Chris ordered before adding. "We’ll have to tether our horses behind the wagons and take them to the ranch ourselves. I don’t trust these men any further than I can throw ‘em. Vin you ride shotgun with someone, you ain’t in to shape to handle a wagon gently."

"Thanks, pard." Vin frowned, hating it whenever he was injured.

"I do feel we ought to be asking for hazard pay," Ezra grumbled as he eyed the four wagons that needed transportation back to Four Corners. Driving a cart full of nitroglycerin was not exactly the way he wished to exit this life if indeed it was time for him to meet his maker.

"Well, you can bring that up with the Judge, the next time he’s in town," Chris answered, more or less expecting some complaint from Ezra as if it were some ritual that the gambler felt obligated to perform each time they ran into something unexpected. It brought some sense into Chris's s universe to know at least some things would never change and was almost grateful for the banter in light of Bellison’s appearance today.

"Alright," Chris said with a loud sigh. "Let’s get to it. I want to be out of here before it gets dark."

With a purpose set before them, the lawmen started to break up, each unconsciously knowing what Chris required of them following their brief discussion regarding their surprise discovery. Buck lingered a moment, wanting to speak to Chris because the gunslinger seemed preoccupied even though he had snapped out of his reverie long enough to give them directions.

"You okay, Chris?" Buck asked once the others were a few steps ahead.

"I’m fine," Chris said shortly, knowing why he was asking.

"So you really saw Bellison," Buck remarked. "I thought he was rotting in a federal jail somewhere."

"It was him," Chris said firmly, wishing no mistake on that. "He even called me Lieutenant."

That would make sense Buck decided since Bellison had been absent when Chris was promoted to Captain. "I wondered what happened to him."

"I didn’t," the gunslinger replied, staring into the horizon, trying to see something that was not there. "I just wanted him gone."

"You’re thinking about him, ain’t ya?" Buck guessed accurately since Buck was thinking about Hannibal Julius himself.

"He’s out here somewhere Buck." Chris declared, not knowing how he knew but sure he was right. The moment he had seen Bellison, Chris had no doubt that the former Sargeant was still in the employ of his old master. How strongly he had reacted to Chris was proof of that. "This time he ain’t gonna get the chance to shoot me in the back."

It was well into NIGHT by the time the seven finally returned to town with their prisoners. The nitro presently resided at the Lucky Seven Ranch, guarded by JD and Josiah for the time being. After Vin had come into town and had his arm properly treated, the tracker returned home to help with the protection the explosives required. Chris wanted it gone as soon as possible and went straight to the telegraph office to wire the Simmerson regarding their problem, hoping someone would quickly arrive from the army to collect the liquid explosive. After leaving Franklin with explicit instructions the telegraph was to be sent immediately, Chris headed for the saloon in search of a drink.

He felt slightly guilty knowing he ought to be going home for supper, but the whole business with Bellison brought back memories he neither wanted nor could tolerate. A bullet to the back had changed him forever, not merely because he faced the fear of being half a man until he regained use of his legs, but it also educated him most profoundly on how deep human ugliness could reach. He came out of the hospital and convalescence a harder man, with idealism burned away in place of cold cynicism. A situation which did not improve after losing Sarah and Adam. He reached the full circle of becoming the man he was now when his wife and child had died.

Even marriage to Mary had not taken the sharp edge of him, and he knew nothing ever would.

He sat at their usual table in the Standish Tavern, still being bartended by Rain at the moment because Inez’s role as the manager did not require her present on a full-time basis. The new mother would come in during the afternoons and early evenings to serve meals for the clientele before taking herself home and retrieving her daughter from Rain who doubled as a babysitter during Inez’s tenure in the saloon. It was quite an amicable arrangement allowing lady bartender to maintain the multiple roles she took on for herself. Chris was amazed at her stamina and knew when their child was born, Mary would be just as tireless. Women seemed to be able to relegate their time into neat little parcels while men were less inclined to be so organised.

Buck headed off for home shortly after they delivered the nitro the ranch, undoubtedly eager to see his wife and his new baby even though the big man would be hard-pressed to admit it. Chris could hardly blame him for that. Buck always enjoyed having a family around him even when he confessed to being a ladies man. Ever since his marriage, he astonished all his friends by his ability to remain faithful to Inez and his utter devotion to his daughter Elena. It was not unusual for the rest of the seven catching the proud father doting unashamedly on his new child.

Chris found himself alone in the Standish Tavern since Ezra had taken the task of keeping an eye on the prisoners in the jailhouse since JD and Josiah were required to keep an eye on the nitro at the ranch. Nathan would eventually join the gambler once the healer was done treating Vin’s arm. No doubt, Vin would head back to the ranch after Nathan was done and to help with the protection of the nitro since voluntary rest was not in the tracker’s vocabulary. Chris found a smile stealing across his face at how Vin would fare with that sort of thinking when he found himself married to a doctor.

When he finally decided to go home, he found Mary on her chair, having fallen asleep there while mending some clothes, the bulk of which still sat in a basket at her feet. Her sewing kit rested gently on her lap along with a shirt of his she was working on at the time she dozed off, and Chris found himself by the doorway to the parlour watching her sleep. By the looks of her, it appeared she had an equally exhausting day as he did. She was wearing her work clothes and her hair though tied up in a bun, had worked free with stray strands brushing her skin after her exertions.

They said pregnant women were supposed to glow and at this moment, whether or not Mary knew it, Chris found his breath taken away by how radiant she looked. The pregnancy was starting to show a little, with a slight curve at her belly he sometimes felt almost afraid to touch for fear of discovering it was all an elaborate dream he was having. The initial stages of her pregnancy were difficult, with morning sickness being particularly brutal. Chris remembered the nights when she had spent most of it retching and wondered how the women of the world did not kill their men from the sheer frustration at being the only ones to suffer when it came time for a child to be born. Now Mary spent most of her time, trying not to devour everything in the house, so he wouldn't have to take up hunting to feed her. 

After watching her, Bellison and Julius seemed far away, and he came forward quietly, removing the objects in her lap and placing it aside so she could find it easily in the morning. Slipping his arms around her, Chris lifted her off the chair. The fact she barely stirred as he carried her up the stairs towards their bedroom was a testament to how tired she was, and now Chris felt doubly guilty for hiding out in the saloon when he should have been home with her. She did not stir until after he had begun ascending the stairs and the irregular movement woke her.

"Chris." She whispered as she fluttered her eyelids and looked up at him. "What are you doing?" She asked, even though she was not quite awake yet and reluctant to be free of those incredible arms around her.

"Taking you to bed." He answered as they reached the top of the stairs.

"Why Mr Larabee," she teased softly. "What are you suggesting?"

Chris found himself grinning. "Mrs Larabee, you got way too much energy for me." He joked and once again, felt renewed when he stared into those blue-grey eyes.

"Well, put me down," she said yawning. "I must be heavy."

"Not a chance. I ain’t never letting you go now that I got you."

"Flatterer." She smiled and nuzzled her face in her chest, not about to argue with him as he carried her into their bedroom. "Any trouble on the way back?" She asked since trouble, and the seven went like bacon and eggs.

"A little," Chris admitted but not about to go into detail. He was not ready to talk about how he felt about Julius and Bellison. It delved too deeply in the parts of his life he did not want to talk about. If he started telling her about them, then he might have to tell her about the rest of it and even now, nearly twenty years after the event, he still found it hard to talk about. However, he would not keep it from her because she was his wife, but he was not going to volunteer it either. At least not yet anyway. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to hold his wife in his arms and fall asleep with her scent in his lungs. "But nothing we couldn’t handle. Vin got a little hurt."

"Vin always gets hurt," Mary mumbled, letting her sleepiness overtake her again. "I swear I do believe the only reason he’s marrying Alex, is so he can have a doctor on call."

"Oh, I’d say there's at least one other reason." He chuckled softly as he lay her down on the bed, wondering how she could take away all the turmoil inside of him with just her smile.

"Probably," she laughed and started to undress as he did the same to join her in her bed. She noted the expression on his face as she undid the buttons on her dress and found herself asking. "Chris, are you all right?"

Chris looked over his shoulder at her, wondering how she was able to manage to discern something was wrong and then opted against trying to understand how she knew and deal with the fact that she did. "I’m just thinking about things."

"Like what?" She asked, tossing her dress into the nearby chair.

"Nothing important." He shrugged and climbed into the sheets with her, once he was freed of clothing. Naked, he slid next to her body and delighted at the feel of her bare skin against hers. Fabric always seemed to be a hindrance when they went to bed. After months of marriage, they decided it was pointless wearing anything at all with Chriss craving for his wife almost matched by her surprisingly ravenous appetite for him.

Mary continued to stare a little longer before she was willing to nestle into the warmth of his embrace, aware there was something wrong even if he did not wish to discuss it. However, it was never wise to push him into revealing his inner soul unless he was ready to do so, and by the manner of him at this time, Mary assumed he was far from it. "I was going to clear out the spare room for the nursery, what do you think?" She asked as she snuggled next to him.

"Fine. Whatever you like."

"Chris, there is something wrong." She pushed herself up on her elbow to look at him.

"I said, drop it." He spoke with more harshness than he intended, wishing she would just leave it alone and then realised she had and it was he who had bitten.

"Chris, I am not one of your men." She responded just as sharply, completely awake now.

"I know you ain’t," he said guiltily. "I don’t want to talk about it or anything to do with the baby right now. Is that too hard for you to understand?"

"Of course not," she started to stammer, realising for the first time that he might have trouble coping with the fact he was soon to be a new father, no matter how much he might have attempted to hide that fact from her. "I just asking your opinion." She was unsure how to deal with him now the possibility reared its ugly head.

"You can take care of it yourself Mary," Chris frowned, rolling on his side, suddenly having no wish to face her when he felt unable to stem the hostility that was frothing from inside him without pause.

"Chris...." Mary started to get upset.

"Look!" He jumped out of bed and grabbed a pillow. "I’m too tired for this." Without saying another word, he pulled on his pants and padded out of the room, leaving Mary to stare after him in stunned silence.

***********

Although Vin had wanted to wait in town until Alex returned from one of her house calls, he knew Josiah and JD were at the ranch guarding the nitro, and he should probably go home to give them a hand. Even though Nathan specifically ordered him to get some rest, both he and the tracker knew that was about as likely to happen as Ezra suddenly giving up cards and taking up knitting. By the time Vin got to the ranch, it was after dark, and Vin found Alex was present. The doctor had stopped by on her way back to Four Corners to see if he was back from his trip and found Josiah and JD.

Vin walked into the shack and was greeted by the pleasant aroma of food. Josiah and JD were seated at the hewn kitchen table while Alex was at the stove cooking. Despite the jokes he often made at her expense, Alex could cook and quite well. She just did not do it that often. It felt good seeing her there, and Vin could not deny looking forward to the day when she lived here permanently. Vin let himself in and gestured for Josiah and JD to be quiet as he went to Alex. Both men nodded in understanding and returned to their conversation at the table, leaving the couple to their sentimental exchanges, trying not to notice.

"Hey there Doc," Vin slid his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, while she stirred the stew in the pot.

"Vin!" Alex stopped what she was doing immediately and turned around, wrapped her arms around him before their mouths melted in a warm kiss. "Are you okay?" She said breathlessly as she recovered from the effect of his lips against hers and moved to baser instincts. "JD said you were hurt." Her eyes shifted to his arm and noticed the slight bulge of a bandage under his buckskins.

"I’m okay," he assured her, his hands resting comfortably on her waist. "It was just a scratch." He replied, kissing her again since that was more of a tonic for what ailed him than any treatment Nathan could prescribe.

"It is, huh?" She looked at him with apparent disbelief. "I’ll check it out later. In the meantime, are you hungry?" Alex asked, gesturing towards the pot and its boiling contents with a sidelong glance.

Vin could not deny that he was a little hungry. He had not stopped to get some dinner in his eagerness to flee Nathan’s ministrations and found the aroma of whatever was cooking to be almost as enticing as Alex herself. "I could eat." He winked at her suggestively.

"Food, I mean." She laughed and pulled his hat over his face before turning back to the stove. "Get out there and sit down, I’ll bring it to the table in a minute."

"Okay," Vin nodded obediently and took the opportunity to deliver a playful slap on her rear as he departed, before joining Josiah and JD.

"You really think someone will come after this stuff?" JD asked when Vin sat down and poured himself a cup of piping hot coffee.

"I’d say so," Vin answered meeting Josiah’s gaze who believed the same thing. "Nitro ain’t meant to be moved like that and not that much of it."

"Whoever wanted it in those quantities had some kind of purpose for it," Josiah replied. "Anyone needing to cause that much damage is not about to let their means slip out of their reach. We should expect trouble."

The appearance of Alex suddenly reminded Vin of something important. If danger was coming, then it was she was absent. She was, of course, oblivious to what was running through his mind as she started serving the meal, with JD eagerly waiting for the food as only a young man of his age could.

"Alex," Vin spoke up as he pulled her on to his lap as she walked past to take a seat beside him. "I’ll take you back to town when we’re done with dinner. It might be a little dangerous for you around here with the nitro being kept here."

Her disappointment showed, but she understood he was only so cautious because he was worried about her. "What about you three?" Alex said, unable to forget that he was in danger too. "Are you men going to be all right?"

"I doubt they’ll come after us tonight," Josiah responded, allaying her fears. "And tomorrow, Chris and the others will be here, so we should be all right."

"Well, take care," she frowned, looking at the three of them in concern. Although her love for Vin was without question, Josiah and JD were her friends, she did not want them harmed any more than she wished to see Vin in danger. "I guess we’ll have to talk about the wedding another night," she shrugged as she turned back to Vin.

"The wedding?" Vin swallowed visibly. "What’s there to talk about?" He asked, suddenly revisited by all the sagely advice that he was given by his friends earlier that day. Vin cast a terrified glance at both Josiah and JD, who could only look on in sympathy.

"Well there are arrangements to make," Alex answered, confused by the tension that was suddenly in his voice. "We haven’t decided on anything yet."

"What arrangements?" He asked, suddenly taking on the appearance of a deer in someone’s sights. "We go get a preacher and get it done."

"Vin," Alex looked at him as if he was a child who needed education in the simplest terms. "It's not that simple. There’s the ceremony, where we’re going to do it, who you want for a best man, that sort of thing."

Vin lifted her off his lap and said very firmly. "You see, this is how it starts. First, you say arrangements, then you say you want ten people and then twenty, next thing we know, we got more fuss than we know what to do with. I ain’t putting up with it Alex." He stood up and met her eye to eye.

"Vin, have you lost your mind?" Alex stared at him in bewilderment. "When I mean arrangements, I mean, are we going to get Josiah to do it? Do you have any religious preference? You talked about doing an Indian thing once, and what exactly do you mean you’re not putting up with it?" Her hands rested on her hips which told every man in the room, especially Vin she was angry. "It was your idea to get married, Vin Tanner." She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "If you’re having some problems with it, I suggest we get it out in the open now."

"Vin," Josiah started to speak out. "Maybe we ought to go outside."

"Shut up Josiah, it's fine." He said sharply. "Alex I ain’t got no problem marrying you, I just don’t want things to get out of hand. Now a man’s got the right to say how things go in his house with his woman."

Josiah shook his head as he heard those words escape Vin and did not even have to see the black cloud forming on Alex’s face to know what Vin just unleashed upon himself. He picked up his plate and moved to the far end of the table. JD, just as mesmerised by what was going on, understood the need for distance and did the same.

"His woman?" Alex could only stutter for a few seconds. "Did you say his woman?"

"That’s right," Vin replied, still too wrapped up in paranoia to see he was hurtling towards the abyss. "I mean I don’t want no wedding where I’m gonna get fitted for a suit like some kind of undertaker going to a funeral and I don’t want place cards or cake!"

"Well," she said nodding in understanding, taking it a lot better than Vin had thought she would. "I’m assuming this topic came up in conversation today, JD?" She looked at the young man because of the two bystanders present, JD was the one most likely to tell her what she needed to know.

"Sort of." JD flinched, offering a silent apology to Vin for his betrayal.

"I see," Alex nodded almost reflectively before turning to Vin and saying in a voice so calm it frightened the men the room more than four wagons of nitro going up in flames. "For starters, contrary to what you’ve probably been told by Buck I’m guessing, I really do want a small ceremony with our friends and no fuss! I don’t know what nonsense has been fed into your head," she shot a murderous glare at Josiah and JD before turning back to Vin. "But if you keep up this ‘his woman’ nonsense, you’ll be walking down the aisle with Peso!" With that, she stormed out of the room, pausing long enough to grab her riding coat and her sun hat before she walked out the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Vin looked at Josiah and JD trying to discern what had come over him when he let out a groan at the realisation of his utter foolishness wrought by paranoia and too much advice. "Aw hell! Alex!" He hurried after her.

Vin had pulled open the door and saw Alex striding purposefully towards her horse, wondering whether or not there was any way to grovel and still maintain one’s dignity. "Alex, honey, I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me!"

"How about stupidity!" She shouted as she swung her coat around herself and shoved her arm roughly through the sleeve.

"Look," he ran up to her and took her arm gently, "I let Buck talk me into believing you wanted this big wedding with all the trimmings and I guess I got a little crazy."

"Oh, you think?" She glared at him.

"I’m sorry Darlin!" he implored giving her that look he knew she could never stay mad at for very long.

Anything she was going to say was cut short by the sudden eruption of gunfire. The bullet struck the hitching post next to her and Alex let out a startled cry of fear as Vin forced her to the ground and went for his gun. Phoebe started rearing up on her hind legs, the sound of bullets far too close for the animal’s liking and sending it into panic as it tried to pull itself free of its tether. Vin tried to get a look at where the bullets were coming from, but they were right in the open, and he was more concerned with getting Alex to safety. He unsheathed his Winchester and fired into the direction of the gunfire but could not see for certain where it was coming from.

"Vin!" Alex cried out, terrified. "What’s happening!"

"Keep your head down!" He barked and ordered her to stay low as they took refuge behind the scant protection of the hitching post. The water trough was only a few feet in front of them, and if they ran for it, they might reach its safety. It was not much in the way of cover, but Vin was dealing with one crisis at a time. He did not know how many guns were out there waiting for them, but he could tell that it was enough to overcome all three of the lawmen from Four Corners. He fired a few more times and then realised to his dismay he would have to reload.

"Alex," he shouted and grabbed her hand. "When I say go, we make for the trough, you hear?" 

She looked at him apprehensively and nodded, a far cry from the woman who had just given him hell a few seconds ago. "All right," she swallowed breathlessly, lips quivering and face etched in fear. "Just tell me when to run."

He took her hand in his as the bullet impacted at the ground near them with Phoebe kicking and neighing in fright, providing enough cover for their attackers to have trouble closing in on them. The animal’s bulk was the only thing that had kept them from cutting them down so far. The horse’s hooves kicking and stamping on the ground had created a small cloud of dust, and since it made no difference whether or not they waited to make their run to safety, Vin decided sooner was the better of the two options.

"Come on!" He answered, and the two of them scrambled to their feet and emerged from behind Phoebe, taking the gunfire with them as they ran forward. It was only until after they had started running did Vin realise the enormity of their situation. Bullets were coming at them from all directions, not just one. The projectiles struck the ground, they embedded themselves into the wood of the hitching post and even flew past the bodies running to escape the reach of lead. Vin and Alex practically skidded on their bellies behind the water trough before scrambling behind the obstruction of wood.

"They’ve set up a kill zone," Vin replied as he started reloading his weapon.

"A what?" Alex asked, terrified as she slid next to him.

"They’ve got us surrounded." He explained as his fingers moved at lighting speed to insert cartridges into the chamber of his Winchester.

"Oh, my God!" Alex cried out and tried to peer over the edge when a bullet splintered the side of the trough near her and forced a cry of fright as she recoiled back into cover.

"Keep your head down woman!" He replied, pulling her the rest of the way down.

"Don’t yell at me!" She shouted, terrified. She hated she could not see them, and that made it all the worse, knowing that the enemy whomever, was closing in on them.

"I’m not yelling at you!" He swore back and decided they had to get to the shack or else they were not going to last very long where they were. Suddenly, he saw Josiah and JD taking point, laying down a barrage of fire though the windows they had broken to offer Alex and Vin cover so that they could make a run for the shack.

"Vin!" Josiah shouted, the man’s deep voice like a beacon of light to a ship lost at sea. "We’re covering you!" 

"Alex," Vin turned to her, seeing just how afraid she was as she crouched low, shuddering at every eruption of gunfire, trying not to react in fright each time she heard a bullet too closer to her. She was breathing hard and had pulled her legs close to her body and watching everything like a skittish animal. "We got to make a run for it." He said in a low voice, trying to keep calm himself because she needed him to look like he at least knew what he was doing.

"Okay," she nodded. "What do we have to do?" 

"When I tell you, you keep your head down and make for the shack as fast as you can," Vin instructed, flinching when another projectile struck the wooden through and send tiny splinters in all directions. "Josiah is giving us cover to make it there."

"What about you?" She asked, unwilling to leave him until she knew he was going to be safe too. She did not want him to put himself at unnecessary risk by trying to protect her, and she was not going without him.

"I’ll be right behind you," Vin answered automatically, knowing that to say otherwise was to ensure she would not do as he asked. Alex was just as fiercely protective of him as he was of her. "I promise." He added, just to make sure that she understood that he was not saying whatever he could to make her obey.

"Okay," she nodded quickly and moved into position, mindful of what he had told her about keeping her head down. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was really quite frightened with what was happening but knowing Vin was behind her, gave Alex some measure of resolve not to fail him at this most perilous hour.

Vin glanced at Josiah through the broken glass and nodded at the preacher as a signal to lay down a wall of suppressing fire at their unseen attackers. Josiah shouted something to JD that Vin could not quite hear over the sound of gunplay but soon understood its content when JD started firing with both guns with Josiah doing the same. The wall of bullets that flew through the window shattered what remained of the glass, sending fragments in all directions.

"Alex, run!" Vin ordered, and Alex hurried from behind their refuge, like a sprinter at the start of a race. She ran forward quickly, pulling her skirts up above her ankles while keeping her head down at the same time. Alex could not see the men trying to kill them but knew trying to seek them out would be a fatal mistake. She did glance behind her long enough to see Vin behind her, shooting in the direction Josiah and JD were doing with his freshly reloaded Winchester. It took less than a second for her to look over her shoulder, but it was enough time for one bullet to find its mark. She felt it enter her shoulder, creating white-hot pain that forced a cry from her before she was even aware that she had been hit. It swept the strength out of her legs and the air from her lungs.

"ALEX!" Vin screamed as he saw her stumble and fall to the ground, her white shirt bloodied as she landed on her knees and braced her fall with her hands. He continued shooting and hurried forward, his arm wrapping itself around her waist as he pulled her up and tried to keep her moving. Alex was hurt but not so much she did not realise the importance to both their lives to continue moving forward. He heard her groan in pain as she forced herself to move and together they ran towards the shack, with Vin’s arm secure around her waist as they stepped onto the porch and practically leapt through the front door.

"Alex, are you all right?" Vin demanded as he kicked the door close behind. Both of them were side by side by the floor with Alex rolling onto her back and clutching her injured shoulder, her face contorted into a vision of pain.

With Vin and Alex securely inside, their attackers concentrated all firepower on the shack. Bullets tore through the walls, smashing cups and plates and anything that it was able to reach. Josiah and JD were crouched low below the windowsills, emerging long enough to fire before the hail of gunfire kept them low.

"How bad is she hurt?" Josiah shouted as he looked on briefly at the tracker who was trying to make the judgement for himself. If worse came to worse, they might have to make a run for it.

Vin was tearing at her sleeves, trying to examine the bullet wound himself. "I don’t know yet."

"I think its a flesh wound!" She hissed, closing her eyes to control the pain. "God, it hurts!" She swore, trying not to cry as the pain bit into her.

"We can’t stay here!" JD declared. "I’m almost out of ammo!" He was quickly loading all the remaining bullets into his own guns.

"Unfortunately," Josiah remarked as another bullet smashed into a lamp and shattered it across the floor. "So am I. Vin, we got to move."

Vin thought quickly as he looked at Alex trying to control her pain and not be a hindrance to them in this critical situation. She was right, it was a flesh wound with the blood making it look a lot worse than it really was. They were running out of ammo, and they had nothing in which to barter for their lives except.....

"Alex," he looked at her. "Can you move?"

"Yes." She nodded, speaking through clenched teeth as she did so. "I can move."

Vin had a plan, and it was risky, but it was the only chance that any of them had at the moment. "Josiah, we’re going to the barn!"

"The barn?" Josiah looked back at him. "Why?"

"Because there’s only one thing those bastards care about here and its that damn nitro! They won’t shoot at the barn if we tell them its there. They need it too much to fire on us!"

As much as Josiah hated to admit it, Vin was right. If they made their escape through the back, there was just enough cover in trees and shrubs for them to reach the barn without getting themselves killed.

"Hold your fire!" Vin ordered. "Keep everything we got for the run!"

Josiah, JD and Vin exchanged glances, aware of how much of a gamble this was. The numbers out there were more than just a few, they were a lot and judging by the fact the enemy was willing to destroy the shack and kill everyone inside to get what they wanted was an indication of their ruthlessness. If any of them were going to walk out of here alive, they were going to have to take this one shot, no matter how slender it might be. Outside, the darkness would give them something of an advantage; Vin hoped it was enough.

With Josiah helping Alex to her feet and JD offering the illusion they were still resisting, Vin did the one thing he could to assure they would be given something of a distraction while they made their run towards the barn. The horses were removed earlier to accommodate the wagonloads of nitro. It was meant to be a safe refuge for the explosives until the army could come and take it off their hands. Now it would do the same for them. 

The shattered lamp had sent oil in all directions, and as JD continued to fire, trying to put up enough of a fight to be convincing, Vin took a last look at the shack that was his first real home and knew he would miss the place. He hoped Chris would understand why this needed to be done as he held the burning piece of wood from the stove and aimed it at the small corner of the room where the broken lamp splattered its oil.

"JD, get going!" 

"We go together!" JD said defiantly, not willing to let Vin indulge in any last-minute heroics.

"JD!" Vin exclaimed exasperated. "We ain’t got time for this!"

"Then you better do what you gotta!" JD faced down the tracker with the same determination.

Finally, Vin conceded defeat and tossed the wood into the oil and watched it ignite immediately. As the flames began to build, bathing the room in a glow of amber malevolence in a preview of the destruction to come, both men retreated out the back entrance of the small shack. Vin looked back long enough to see the entire room become consumed, with everything he owned in it except for what was left in his wagon and decided someone was going to pay for this.

When they emerged outside, Josiah and Alex were already on their way to the barn through the trees. The gunfire was still raining on the shack, putting more and more holes through the place that Vin could actually see tendrils of smoke exuding from the bullet holes. It would not take long for the home to become an inferno and they just enough time before to reach the barn before that happened. No doubt, the enemy would be expecting them to emerge, and if they did not do so before the fire took the building, their subterfuge would be discovered.

With most of the gunfire concentrated on the shack, the group was able to reach the barn with little or no trouble. No doubt, if Bellison was behind this, he might have learnt that Chris Larabee owned this parcel of land and had come here hoping to trap the gunslinger into revealing the whereabouts of his nitro shipment.

"How she’s doing?" Vin asked as he and JD joined Josiah who was using his considerable strength to keep the doctor on her feet and moving. Even though she said it was probably a flesh wound, Alex was hardly the best judge at the moment. The blood flowing onto to her torn shirt had turned the white into crimson and Vin could see the slick wet on her dark vest.

"Pretty good," Josiah answered as they saw the barn close by. The tracker was keeping his eyes open, trying to see if the enemy was close by through the cover of branches and leaves. Fortunately, wherever they were launching their attack, it was not close by.

"Speak for yourself! How can you men stand it!"

That pretty much told Vin that she was more annoyed than hurt, which gave him some measure of relief, as they continued their journey to the barn. The gunfire continued beyond the sight of trees, but some of it had started to level off. With the increasing clouds of smoke billowing from the shack, it was beginning to dawn on the enemy, something was afoot.

"They’re wondering why we ain’t out yet," JD stated, mirroring precisely what Bellison and his men might be starting to guess.

"We’re almost there!" Vin shouted and caused them all to increase their pace forward when suddenly more gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through the foliage, shredding as the hot lead pass through them.

"Run!" Vin shouted and opened fire, able to see some of the shooters this time and knowing where to aim. He had better night vision than the others and could see them clearly through the canopy of branches, twigs and other shrubs. Josiah swept Alex into his arms and carried her the rest of the way as JD and Vin took care of their pursuers who were realising where they were going now and were doing everything possible to keep them from reaching the barn.

With what little ammunition that was left in their guns, Vin and JD managed to keep them away and finally they passed through the large doors of the barn before slamming it shut. While JD secured the door, Vin hurried up the ladder to the loft while Josiah tended to Alex. He scaled the length of the building quickly and opened the small window on the top of the structure. Below him, the wagons were left untethered with their dangerous cargo still in place. The gunfire stopped now, mostly because their attackers were aware the game had shifted the minute they quarry took refuge inside this building.

Vin pushed open the window and peered outside. He could see the shack burning away to its inevitable end and make out the faint outline of the enemy scattered throughout the immediate area. He counted at least ten of them and knew leaving the shack was a good idea. Otherwise, the lawmen from Four Corners and Alex would now be dead. Still, he had one more card to play in this drama to ensure their continued survival, and he would do it now, while Bellison and his men were still reeling from the sudden change in circumstances.

"We got your nitro in here!" Vin shouted on top of his voice. "You don’t back away, we’ll blow it up!"

Vin looked down at his friends and saw their anxious faces praying that the gamble he had taken with their lives had been the correct one. Vin hoped so too. He swallowed deeply and waited for the few seconds it took for an answer to come. Vin's stomach knotted slowly, like a snake coiling into a muscle of tension, waiting to spring if the right response was not received. He looked at Alex, saw the blood on her shoulder and told himself this had to work. It felt like almost an eternity when he suddenly heard a voice respond.

"You’re bluffing!" The man called out, and despite having heard him only once before, Vin knew it was indeed the elusive Mr Bellison for whom Chris held so much hatred.

"Try me!" Vin shouted back, seeing the man himself emerging from his hiding place. It was Bellison all right. The former Indian scout strode brazenly towards the barn, halting when he saw Vin targeting him with his Winchester, unaware the chamber was empty because Vin had used up the last of his ammunition reaching the barn. "We give up, and you’ll kill us anyway! Near as I can figure it, we ain’t got nothing to lose!"

"You let us take what we want, and we’ll let you go!" Bellison tried another tact.

"Like hell, you will!" Vin barked back, not knowing much about Bellison but sure of that at least. "You try to come in here, and we’ll blow this nitro sky high and take as many of you with us as we can!"

Bellison paused in mid-step, appearing to consider his options. The man withdrew into the darkness and Vin held his breath, waiting for a further response. In the distance, the sky was filled the amber glow of the fire as the shack continued to burn. He did not know how long he stayed perched on that ledge waiting, but it became evident that Bellison was not about to rush them, with the possibility that his cargo could be destroyed.

The silence of minutes stretched into hours, with the lawmen keeping a vigil throughout the night, turning turn with the watch in case the enemy attempted to force their way into the structure. In the meantime, Alex offered instructions enough to Vin for him to be able to patch her shoulder until the morning, aware that only at daylight would help come.

"I suppose you think this gets you out of trouble." She said with a smile as he used a length of her skirt as a makeshift bandage. The injury was not quite the flesh wound she made out, because the bullet was lodged in muscle and bone. Alex assured Vin it could wait until morning for treatment as long as the bleeding had been halted.

"I was kind of hoping." He looked at her trying to hide his worry. Next to him, JD was fast asleep, snoring lightly. The youth had succumbed to some well-deserved rest after keeping himself awake for half the night while Josiah had taken a few hours to sleep. Vin found it difficult to sleep knowing the stalemate could end at any time if Bellison became convinced he was bluffing. Josiah was keeping a vigil from the loft, ensuring there were no surprises in the middle of the night.

"I’m sorry I got mad at you," Alex whispered drowsily from his lap. "I really don’t want a big wedding, you know."

"I don’t really want to walk down no aisle with Peso." Vin joked and was pleased when she rewarded him with another smile.

"Good," Alex mumbled softly as she fought a losing battle with sleep. "I don’t think that horse will fit my wedding dress." She chuckled before the exhaustion finally caught up with her, and she succumbed to her dreams.

***********

"Didn’t you sleep well last night, Chris?" Nathan inquired when he saw Chris Larabee massaging his neck for the umpteenth time as they took the familiar trail towards the ranch the next morning.

"I slept fine," Chris said tautly, immediately desisting in action now the astute healer who observed everything noticed it. Chris did not want it known by anyone he had spent the last night trying to sleep on a chair following his abrupt departure from his bedroom. Chris had no need of his friends telling him what an idiot he was when Chris knew perfectly well he had no reason to behave the way he had towards Mary. His nerves were so agitated by Bellison’s appearance, Chris had taken it out on his wife for no good reason. Mary had hardly spoken two words to him this morning, and he felt awful enough as it was without having to explain it to his friends as well.

"Oh, Jesus." Chris heard Buck suddenly exclaim as his old friend became the first to turn the corner and get a full view of the ranch.

His response immediately captured the attention of everyone, and Chris felt his heart constrict in his chest as he rode on ahead and saw what forced such an exclamation from Buck. As he saw the smouldering remains of the shack, he was suddenly reminded of the morning he had come back from Mexico and found his home burned to the ground as the shack now appeared. Chris jumped out of the saddle, trapped in a place of absolute horror, praying history had not repeated itself. 

"VIN!" Chris shouted, unable to imagine how he would cope if he had to go searching for his best friend in the cindered remains of his shack.

"JD!" Buck cried out, just as paralysed by fear at the thought the boy might have shared Vin’s fate, not to mention Josiah who was here last night as well.

Chris dragged himself to the shack, what remained of it anyway, trying to ignore the charred smell of wood and still burning fires. He could not be sure of anybody being amongst the wreckage, but then he used the same argument when he came home that morning from Mexico and found the remains of his wife and son in the still-warm embers. Chris was not confident if he could go through that again. Buck dismounted and was wearing the same stricken expression on his face, no doubt revisited by the same memories. Ezra and Nathan lingered behind, new to the horror but affected just the same. They crept forward slowly, almost afraid of what they might find if they searched too deeply amongst the ruins.

"Buck!" JD’s voice sang out of the barn, and it was the sweetest music they ever heard.

As Buck, Nathan and Ezra hurried towards the youth who emerged from the barn with Josiah and Vin, Chris found himself letting out a deep sigh of relief as the cold fist around his heart suddenly unclenched, and he found he could breathe again. The others were too far from him to notice, but Chris was shaking inwardly, coming to grips with the intense emotion of seeing his friends alive and well, not victims of another fire. After a few seconds, he composed himself and forced his legs to move. Before he had heard JD and saw with his two eyes that his friends were among the living, he was not sure he could have managed it.

Buck embraced JD happily, with Ezra greeting Josiah with a wide grin which was only a fraction of the real depth of his feeling, while Nathan was not so restrained and wrapped his arms around the preacher in a bear hug that spoke his happiness clearly. Vin did not join them. He stepped out of the barn just far enough to show that he was all right, before retreating inside the building once.

"Alex is hurt Nathan," JD quickly said to Nathan.

"Miss Alex is hurt? What she doing here?" 

As far as they knew Alex was home in Four Corners. 

"She came over last night to make us some supper and got stuck here." 

Before JD could say another word, the healer was striding towards the barn. 

"What happened?" Chris finally found his voice.

"We got ambushed last night," Josiah started to explain. "It was your friend Bellison. He and about a dozen men came after us. Alex got shot, and Vin took us into the barn. Figured he could use the nitro for leverage. We threatened to blow it up if they tried to come for us."

"My God," Buck exclaimed. "That bastard just keeps turning up."

"Well considering the value of what is inside the barn, he could hardly afford to gamble with its loss. Mr Tanner’s punting saved the day." Ezra commented.

"This ain’t over then," Chris let out a deep sigh, grateful that no one was hurt this time, but it was not going to be the last. "They’ll come back." He said grimly, and everyone knew he was right. While the nitro was in their possession, its owners were going to attempt to retrieve it.

Even it meant killing every last one of them.

Chapter Three
The General

Chris Larabee was not happy when he returned to Four Corners.

Even though his friends had survived the attack of the previous night without any fatalities, Chris was seething in rage and itching to vent some of his anger on the men responsible, knowing inwardly Bellison was not the man in charge. He did not know how he knew it, but the instincts keeping alive for so long refused to let him believe anything else. His gut told him it was Hannibal Julius behind all this. Unfortunately, a gut feeling could not lead him to find the man, and it was this lack of knowledge that further deepened Chris's frustration and the stoked the fires of his rage into a filthy mix of bad temperament and lethal intent.

Not wishing to create any further friction between himself and Mary because he knew she had not deserved his outburst the night before, Chris decided o spare her his mood for the moment. After returning from the Lucky Seven ranch and shifting the location of the nitro to Nettie Well’s property, Chris busied himself in town. Naturally, the first order of business was getting Alex patched up. Josiah, JD and Vin went to get some well-deserved rest while Buck and Ezra ensured the nitro was well hidden on Nettie’s property, not anywhere the widow or her niece could get hurt if anyone came after it. Bellison’s men must have come from somewhere, and for the moment, it was still the only lead they had to find him. Chris was forced to stay behind in the hopes the army would send a wire in response to their request to remove the nitro.

By late afternoon, Franklin at the telegraph office delivered temp the message he was waiting for and as he glanced at the paper, realised the army should be arriving at any moment if the contents of the note were to be believed. Apparently, they were sending down a general or something to collect the stuff. This did not improve Chris's s mood because he was in no condition to deal with a pompous ass of a Union general, having more experience with those than he would like to admit. Finally, as the sun descended on the day and Chris debated whether or not he was going home for supper, he found himself in the saloon with the rest of his comrades who were there for a drink after the day’s events. Vin had just returned from visiting Alex who was more ill-tempered when she was a patient and found he had a partner in misery when Vin ordered a double and downed it in one swallow.empe

"How’s Miss Alex?" Nathan inquired as Vin ordered a beer after he had finished his double whisky and drifted towards their usual table with his mug once it was served to him.

"Oh, meaner than a rattlesnake." Vin shook his head, wondering how any woman could be so impossible about her own health and have no trouble dictating how others should conduct their own.

"Then she’s fine," Chris replied, aware of how Mary could be. During the worst of morning sickness, Mary roamed the house like a bear with a thorn in its foot. He had to take Billy fishing just to ensure she did not devour her own child. 

"Miss Alex can be a handful," Nathan chuckled. "Good thing, I don’t have to put up with that sort of thing."

God must have been listening because Rain chose that moment to stop at their table, en route to the bar with an empty tray. "Nathan Jackson, are you not supposed to be studying? Your tests are only a few weeks away."

"Come on Rain....." Nathan started to say, glad his colouring hid his embarrassment because his friends at the table were trying their hardest to rein in the sniggers and chortles threatening to escape them in front of his lady.

"I will hear no arguments, Nathan," she said firmly. "You said you needed much studying time. I will not serve you another drink because you will leave after this one."

"But...."

She was not listening and continued her journey. Only after she had disappeared into the kitchen did the explosion of laughter erupt from almost everyone at the table.

Naturally, it was Ezra who spoke first. "You are indeed a fortunate man, Mr Jackson." The gambler said, holding a poker face even though the rest of them were still laughing while Nathan was trying to keep some dignity by holding his head high. "I would hate to see you suffering the same troubles as the rest of us."

"Shut up Ezra," Nathan growled when suddenly, he noticed a new arrival in the saloon.

In fact, anyone who was not sitting at the table would have a hard time missing the man who entered through the batwing doors, everyone except Chris that is. The gunslinger was getting another drink while the rest of his companions stared at the new arrival. Dressed in the dark blue of a Union uniform, it was hard not to notice the braids and markings in gold of a senior military officer. The man himself was something to behold. If a word could be applied to him, then it would be granite. The eyes were hard like stone, dark and sharp with intense powers of perception as its deep gaze moved across the saloon, placing everyone under intense scrutiny.

He was aware he had everyone’s undivided attention at his entry into the establishment but showed little or no reaction. It was a face on intimate terms with battle and death. His eyes were the most telling thing about him, impenetrable like the mask he wore on his face. As he continued into the saloon, he was followed by another office of lesser rank. The general and he was a general in every sense of the word by the way he moved, paused briefly when he saw the black-garbed gunslinger at the bar.

To the six lawmen, there was something familiar about him they could not place, in the jaw and especially in the eyes and almost certainly in the manner. He moved like a predator, dangerous and silent but nonetheless someone who closed in for the kill on numerous occasions and was very good at it. He reminded them of a wolf, one that was accustomed to being at the pack and had won its alpha position through many tests of battle. He was the quintessential seasoned warrior of the field.

"Christopher?" He called out. His voice was like gravel.

Chris dropped his glass and almost spun around, unable to ignore that voice after twenty-one years because he was still as conditioned to obey it as when he had been when he was a child.

"S...S...Sir?" Chris stammered, turning around and finding himself face to face with his.....he could not even imagine it, let alone say it out loud.

"It is you." The man said with no smile on his face, but the pleasure at seeing Chris was unmistakable. The man strode across the floor, leaving his companion behind while the others watching his progress across the room, transfixed.

"Sir," Chris swallowed hard and nodded, eyes wide as he saw General Marcus Larabee walking towards him large as life. He glanced anxiously as his friends, almost pleading for help but they were too astonished by his reaction to provide anything except wide-eyed stares to the drama unfolding before them.

"Christopher." The general almost smiled as he stood face to face with his son. "What are you doing here?"

"Please, Sir," Chris released a breath and felt like he was ten years old again. "Don’t call me that. It's just Chris."

The general frowned. "There is nothing wrong with your name, son. Your mother liked it well enough."

"Well, she ain’t here." He found himself saying and became the focus of the powerful glare that made him wish he had not spoken out of turn. "I’m sorry....." he started to stammer and then felt utterly ridiculous for apologising like a child.

"Chris then," the general conceded, unwilling to show the boy how pleased he was to see his son. "It’s been a long time." He pointed out, no hint of accusation, just a simple statement of fact.

"Yes, it has," Chris swallowed, trying not to feel guilty their estrangement was entirely his own doing. Chris fled from his life, unable to face anyone, especially his father after what happened at the Academy. "How have you been, Sir?"

"Better than you I hear," the general said coolly, always with that understated voice lacking in feeling but not intensity. "You became a gunslinger? I sent you to the best schools in Indiana so that you can get drunk and pick fights in saloons across the West?"

"I am not a gunslinger." Chris straightened up, regaining some of his bearings and preparing to protest.

"I don’t have time for this," the general brushed aside anything further he had to say. "Who’s the law in this town? I came here to see him."

"I am," Chris said reluctantly, uncertain how the general was going to take this bit of news. "Me and six men have been hired to protect the town unofficially." Suddenly it occurred to Chris the general had come to town because of the wire had sent to the army about the nitroglycerin shipment they stumbled across. "You’re here about the nitro."

"That and a little more." The general responded. "Are you settled here?" 

"Yes," Chris nodded, glancing past the man’s shoulder to see the others watching them both with a mixture of amusement and outright surprise. "I got a horse ranch outside of town."

"Married?"

"Yes." He nodded and realised the general probably knew about Sarah and Adam and felt a pang of guilt that his actions had kept his father from ever knowing his grandson.

"I trust I will get to meet your wife this time." He said, turning on his heels and moving on another task when his patience was taxed. "Well, let’s get started."

Chris could only stare after him as he made his way out of the saloon. His companion, a colonel by the looks of it, immediately fell into stride with the general as he headed towards the door. The Colonel looked over his shoulder long enough to offer Chris a look of confusion before the general paused and said in a loud voice.

"Are you coming, Christopher?" He asked in that same firm voice.

"Yes, Sir," Chris answered automatically and winced when he did. He was a grown man for God sakes! Why was he still behaving like a child in front of his father? As soon as the words left him, the general continued out, expecting him to be not far behind. Only when the man had left the room, could Chris feel any semblance of normalcy returning to him. He was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath as he walked towards the table where his friends were seated.

"Mr Larabee, did we just happen to be in the presence of your.....dare we say it....." Ezra started to say.

"Yes," Chris looked down and shot the gambler a murderous glare. "That was my father."

"Your father is a general?" JD exclaimed even though it should have been painfully evident by the union blue uniform and the gold braids.

"You okay pard?" Vin asked, seeing the look in Chris's s eyes as that belonging to someone who was shaken to the core. In the years Vin had ridden with Chris and dared to call him his best friend, the tracker had never seen Chris so off-balanced. He supposed the arrival of a long lost father would do that to a person.

"Damn Chris," Buck looked at him with a wide grin before Chris could answer. "You never told me you had a dad in the army. Hell, I know you longer than anyone here, and that’s the first time I knew you weren’t raised by bears."

"CHRISTOPHER! ARE YOU COMING?" The general voice barked through the open saloon door once again.

Chris rolled his eyes and swore under his breath, finding this entire episode exceedingly humiliating and wishing the earth would swallow him up. "I’m coming, Sir." He answered loudly but politely, gritting his teeth in exasperation before starting towards the door and gave his friends a look of pure menace. "The first one of you says a word, I'll shoot something off that don’t grow back." He growled and strode out the batwing doors.

No one said a word until after Chris had left.

"Wow." Nathan whistled softly. "That was Chris father."

"I guess so," Josiah replied, completely understanding why the hardened gunslinger was the way he was. "I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree after all."

"You know," Buck downed the last of his beer as he prepared to step into the fray, not about to miss one minute of this reunion between Chris Larabee and his father for anything in the world. "I’ve known him for going on thirteen years now, and that’s the first time I’ve ever seen him squirm like this. And I ain’t far wrong his being raised by bears either."

"Hey, ain’t I got enough trouble!" Chris stuck his head through the doors again, impatience etched in his face as he waited for them. "Get your asses out here!"

"Like I said," Buck sighed when Chris had disappeared again. "Bears."

***********

Ten minutes later, Chris Larabee found himself inside the confines of the jailhouse in the unsettling position between his men and his father. There was silence as both camps faced each other, and it fell to him to introduce them to each other even though he was not relishing one minute of this torture. At present, the only comfortable position for him to be was on his horse, riding like a bat out of hell away from Four Corners forever. In nineteen years, this was the one place he did not wish to be.

"This is here is General Marcus Larabee," Chris introduced the rest of the seven to his father. He shot them a furious glare to keep any comments to themselves, lest they wanted an ass full of lead.

"Men," the general tipped his hat at their direction in acknowledgment as he stood amongst them and gestured to the soldier on his left. "This is Colonel Markham, my adjutant. I hear you’ve come across a load of nitro."

"More than a load General," Ezra spoke up. "A veritable fortune."

"How much?" Larabee asked without looking at Chris but nevertheless expected the answer to come from his son.

"Four wagon loads," Chris replied from where he was seated behind the desk. "Six to begin with. Two got blown up during the chase and gunfire."

"That would be about right, Sir, " Markham stated with Larabee nodding in agreement.

"What would be right?" Buck questioned, guessing as they all had by the general’s manner, there was more going on here than just a simple matter of nitro.

"You don’t need to know." Markham retorted. "It's classified."

"You need our help and in our town," Chris said firmly, staring down the man as he rose to his feet. "You better declassify it if you expect our cooperation." He tried not to look at the general as he made that bold statement.

Markham opened his mouth to speak when Larabee responded, with a little bit of a smile. "Its all right Markham, tell them."

"But Sir," Markham protested, and Larabee silenced him with a look that each member of the seven knew all too well.

"Oh my God, it is hereditary," Ezra remarked and received a scathing glare from Chris and a slightly amused smirk from the general.

"Yes, Sir, " the Colonel swallowed and faced the men before him once again, contritely this time. "Less than a week ago, one of our army trains carrying a large shipment of nitroglycerin was ambushed and hijacked by train robbers. They killed everyone on board and stole the shipment bound for a munitions factory in the east. We traced them as far as Eagle Bend and believed they were to be delivered to a secret buyer deep in the Territory."

"Well, they came after us where we had it stashed last night," Vin revealed. "At least ten of them. So its pretty sure bet they’re gonna still try again to make that delivery."

"Was anyone hurt?" Larabee asked.

"Just a lady doctor friend of ours," Chris answered, unable to meet his father’s gaze. "But Vin there managed to keep them from getting their hands on it again." He glanced in Vin’s direction so that the general would know about whom he was speaking.

"Good job," the general looked at the tracker and commended. "However, since they found it the first time, chances are they will do it again. I’ve got a platoon on their way here from the nearest fort to take it off your hands. Can I count on you boys to keep an eye on it in the meantime?" He asked no one in particular even though it was fairly obvious the lawmen of Four Corners took their lead from his son.

"We’ll give you whatever help you need," Chris answered for them. "In the meantime, you mind telling me who they are?"

"General...." Markham looked at Larabee once again, trying to remind him of the protocol in this matter.

"These men are putting their lives on the line, they have the right to know what they’re dealing with and I believe, Colonel," and he put enough emphasis on the man’s rank to impress upon Markham who was in charge here. "That my son may have an added insight into this situation that you do not."

"I fail to see how," Markham said in a very measured voice, not at all liking the situation but not brave enough to risk insubordination by speaking his mind. 

Chris grasped immediately the insight his father was implying. "You mean Bellison."

"Not exactly," Larabee looked up and met his son’s eyes. "Bellison doesn’t work alone, does he?"

"Oh shit Chris," Buck exclaimed grasping the meaning behind the general’s words just as quickly as Chris had. "He means Julius!"

"Who?" Nathan looked at Chris in question. "Whose Julius?"

"The general means Hannibal Alexander Julius," Markham announced reluctantly since it now appeared that the younger Larabee had some idea bout the man at the centre of all this trouble.

"Last I heard, he and Bellison were supposed to be in a military prison somewhere." Chris made no attempt to explain it to the others, at least not yet.

"Julius came from a wealthy family," Larabee answered. "He stayed in jail for a few years and eventually got forgotten by anyone who mattered. When that happened, it was easy to pay someone to look the other way when he made his escape attempt. He got out and took Bellison with him. They disappeared for a couple years, and then we started hearing things."

"Like what?" Josiah asked.

"Like founding a secret society, like the Ku Klux Klan but better organised and with purer goals that a simple matter of racial division. This one has a doctrine of completely uniting all races into one cohesive fighting unit that would overthrow the present regime and drive the status quo into the dirt."

"Forgive me for saying so Sir," Nathan spoke up reluctantly. "That don’t exactly sound bad."

"No, it doesn’t," Larabee nodded in agreement, willing to admit there were merits in the ideology that united men, whatever the colour. "However, they achieve their goals through murder and terrorism. Those are not the best foundation for the launch of a new order. Violence to gain power may be effective but establish a government in those lines is a dangerous thing, and factions break up easily. We’ve all seen what civil war does to a country. If you think two sides is dangerous, wait until its a dozen."

Chris thought with a smile very little about his father changed, especially his way of commanding men and recognising what meant something to them. The general did not believe in making speeches, and when he accidentally fell into some form of oration, he stopped himself as soon as he realised it. Still, his father had a way of understatement that made the men under his command distinguish him from being just another officer but a soldier, whose ideas were those that they could identify. The general concerned himself with getting the job done, not the military niceties that had to be observed in the process.

Larabee knew nothing of his son’s ruminations and continued. "However, at this time, we are not discussing ideology, we’re talking about large scale terrorism. That much nitro has a purpose and with Hannibal Julius thinking he’s a military genius, a fact my son can personally attest, he is accustomed to spilling a lot of blood to obtain a mission objective, innocent or not. Make no mistake, the secret buyer is Hannibal Julius, and for that much nitro, we better take him seriously."

"He’s right," Chris agreed, taking the nod by Larabee as permission to continue. "In the war, Julius had the highest casualty rate of any field commander carrying the Union flag. He’d let his own men walk into a trap if it won him the day."

"How did you survive?" JD asked, fascinated by this aspect of Chris's s past. While they all knew he had been in the army during the war, it was something Chris did not like to discuss and always brushed aside the subject.

"We almost didn’t," Buck answered for Chris knowing his old friend’s distaste of talking about his tenure of military service. "Until the last battle, we lost a lot of men. When I joined the platoon, they were calling him a butcher. It was just before that last battle and crazy son of a bitch ordered us to charge the rebs…."

"Mr Wilmington," Ezra cleared his throat. "Another reference if you would please?" 

"Sorry, Ez," Buck winced remembering Ezra would have most likely been one of those ‘Rebs’ during the war. "Well, they would have killed us all if Chris had done what Julius told us to do and take the hill in a straight charge. Lucky for us, our lieutenant had a better idea." He glanced at Chris, who allowed a slight curl at the corner of his lip to be seen as Chris recalled the start of his friendship with Buck Wilmington. "If wasn’t for Chris, we would all be dead. Julius knew nothing about fighting a battle, all he knew how to do is direct people from the rear where it was safe. When he found out Chris took the hill with a different plan, the bastard shot Chris in the back in front of all of us. Some of us almost tore him to pieces for that."

"Its ancient history," Chris replied, disliking talk about the incident, especially with the general present.

"Well," Larabee shrugged, observing Chris's s reaction. "It might be an idea to talk to the men you arrested."

"They said they don’t know nothing." Vin took the lead gesturing towards the cells where they were penned. "But that ain’t saying much. I’m sure they know something they don’t think is important but might be enough for us to get a bead on Bellison."

"Operation with that many men in these parts ain’t exactly easy to hide." Chris agreed and then considered their options. "Vin, it might be an idea if you and me take a ride out to Purgatory tomorrow, see what the word is."

"Okay." The tracker nodded in agreement.

"The rest of you get out to Nettie’s place at first light." Chris continued issuing orders, perfectly aware his father was watching him closely and felt extremely self-conscious about it. "I want the nitro watched round the clock. Apologise to Nettie for imposing on her and let her know we’re working to getting it off her property. Nathan, can you manage that with Alex out for the count?"

"She’s too ornery to stay in bed," Nathan explained, knowing the doctor had difficulty tasting her own medicine. "She’ll be up and around no matter what I say."

"You can bet your ass on that," Vin muttered under his breath.

"Markham you will accompany them," Larabee said to his adjutant, issuing a few orders of their own since a course of action was being decided upon and to his secret pride, quite effectively by his son. "I’ll be going with my son."

Chris shot his father a look, clearly unhappy about that. "That ain’t necessary." 

"I must agree Sir…," Markham responded just as abruptly.

"This is not up for negotiation." The general stated firmly with an expression of pure steel in his eyes that made everyone flinch at seeing his firm resolve.

Chris knew better than to argue with the man.

"Fine." He said tautly, not relishing the idea but having no choice since circumstances made it unavoidable. Furthermore, he was not about to shirk his responsibilities to Four Corners, just because of personal problems. "We’ll pick you up wherever you’re staying. Someone can point you at the local hotel." Saying nothing else, Chris walked out of the room, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from here as possible.

The general said nothing as he watched Chris leave abruptly, aware there was a great deal of tension needing resolving but his son like him, was stubborn and there was much to say to each other after so many years apart. The awkwardness following Chris's s departure was palpable, and Vin took the lead in the gunslinger's absence as it was his custom even though in the beginning, he had no idea he was doing it.

"I’ll take you to the hotel if you’d like, Sir," Vin volunteered since they would need to know where the man was staying if he intended to go with them to Purgatory the next day.

"We’d appreciate that," Larabee said quietly, showing no sign Chris's s behaviour bothered him. "We’ve been riding all day to get here. We could use some sleep and a good meal." The general said, taking off his hat and running his gloved hand through his greying gold hair. "It’s been a long day."

To that, no one could disagree.

***********

Chris was almost home when he heard footsteps running after him. Without even needing to turn around and see who it was, Chris knew instinctively was behind him, Buck. Vin would be smart enough to leave him alone, but only Buck would have the nerve or the stubbornness to confront him with this issue. Buck was like a personal demon that would never let him turn his back on such things even at the threat of death. Chris continued walking, not bothering to pause even though he knew he was being pursued and swore if Buck said a word on this matter, he would shoot the man, friend or not.

"Goddamn, Chris!" Buck finally reached him. "That man’s your father! How can you just walk away like that?"

Chris froze in his steps and whirled around to face his oldest friend, with a look of nothing less than menace. "Let it be. I don’t want to talk about it."

Buck let out an exasperated groan as he returned a look of pure disbelief at Chris, unable to comprehend how a grown man could be so pig-headed about things sometimes. "How come I ain’t never heard you talk about your father?" Buck probed, unable to deny that he was a little hurt by the lack of disclosure. After all, they had known each other for a lot of years. "The way you’ve been so closed mouth about it, I always figured he was dead or something."

The accusation in his voice was unmistakable.

Chris's jaw tightened, and he glared at Buck. "What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’, do you not understand Buck?" He said through clenched teeth, smouldering with anger Buck could not let this go. His tightly reined emotions were playing havoc with him now. As much as he tried to crush them ruthlessly with his usual will of iron, Chris found he was unable to do so. He did not want to deal with this right now! It was bad enough seeing the man let alone trying to deal with his emotions on the matter with someone else.

"None of it, I guess." Buck was unwilling to let Chris walk away without talking about it or at least explaining something about why the general remained such a secret. Chris knew everything about Buck, and until now, Buck thought he was the authority on Chris as well. "I mean, I’ve known you for a lot of years, and you’ve never even spoken about him. Is what he did to you that bad?"

"It ain’t about what he did!" Chris finally exploded, forcing the words out he didn't wish anyone to hear, but it came forth from his lips in a torrent he could not stop. "It’s about what I did!"

As Buck’s expression evaporated into surprise, Chris felt silent, hoping, at last, his old friend would get it into his head, he did not wish to talk about this at all. With that message delivered clearly, Chris continued towards the Clarion’s front door, leaving left Buck behind him and hoping this time, Buck would have the sense not to follow him.

***********

"How long has he been here?" Larabee asked the young man named Vin Tanner as they left the jailhouse and headed in the direction of the hotel. Vin guessed the general was more interested in Chris rather than the directions to a good hotel but was unprepared to betray any confidences. Markham had gone on ahead, perhaps suspecting the general wanted some privacy to talk.

"About three years," Vin answered, deciding that was a safe response. 

"I’ve tried to keep track of him over the years," Larabee explained, never meeting Vin in the eye as he asked. Instead, those blue eyes were fixed on the road ahead. In that much at least, Vin saw the similarities between father and son. "I knew he lost his wife and boy, but he seemed to fade away after that. Heard now and then he had some kind of a reputation as a gunfighter."

"He ain’t never killed anyone who didn’t have it coming," Vin spoke up in Chris's s defence. "He drifted here about the time I did, and when the local judge offered us a dollar a day to keep the peace, it seemed like a good idea to stay."

"And his new wife is from here?" The general did not want to compromise the young man’s friendship with Chris, but there was just so much he didn't know. Pride kept him from seeking out the boy before this. Boy, Larabee snorted, wondering how he still ould refer to Chris that way. Then again, Larabee had been there when Chris came into this world and could s his son no other way.

"She owns the local paper." Vin answered, seeing no harm in revealing common knowledge "Name’s Mary."

"Good," Larabee said quietly, and there was just enough hint in his voice to indicate he was somewhat relieved Chris had found someone. "You men been riding with him for long?" It was impossible not to miss the camaraderie existing among the eclectic group of men Chris called his friends. 

"Little under three years," Vin answered as they neared the establishment. There were questions Vin wanted to ask him but felt constrained by his friendship for doing so. "You don’t mind me asking when was the last time you saw Chris?"

Larabee knew precisely when. The date was burned into memory for the last twenty years along with questions and debates as to what he might have done differently to change the way things were between them. "Chris would have been nineteen," Larabee answered. "He came home to Indiana from West Point, during the holidays. That was the last time I saw him."

"West Point." Even Vin knew what that was. "Chris went to West Point?"

The general seemed amused by the younger man’s surprise and suddenly drew insight into why this tracker was his son’s closest friend. There was much about Vin Tanner reminding Larabee of Chris in his youth. No doubt, it was Tanner's quiet, unassuming manner. Perhaps their friendship had arisen because Chris saw himself in Vin. 

"Yes." He nodded. "He was Academy for three years," Larabee answered, not wishing to divulge any more realising Chris had kept much away from the people in his life, despite their close bonds of friendship. That kind of loyalty did not come easily, and Larabee was proud his son was able to inspire such devotion from the men he rode with.

Hearing Chris went to West Point did not really surprise Vin all that much. Chris always had an air of authority around him, and the tracker knew he was well-read as well as having a strange code of honour was unusual for a man who lived by the gun. He supposed it made sense that all that would have come from somewhere. Suddenly, Vin found himself understanding Chris just a little bit better and wondered what could have driven father and son apart. For a military man, the general seemed like they had first described him, granite. However, there was also the same underlying empathy Chris often surprised everyone around him by showing unexpectedly. Vin, who made it a habit to observe people in the background, did not think the general was as hard nose as first impressions might imply.

"So what happened between you two?" Vin found himself asking, aware he was probably going to get told to mind his own business, but curiosity got the better of him.

The General surprised him by answering. "I don’t know. Last time I heard from him, he had some trouble at the Academy and left. After that, nothing." 

Vin wanted to question the man further on that point but had no idea how to do it without sounding overly invasive, and he was not in the habit of sticking his nose in other people’s business, especially Chris Larabee’s. Thus he was almost grateful when they finally reached Heidigger's where he was able to make a graceful habit without the temptation of quizzing the general more about his best friends origins. Besides, it was clear the father and son had a great deal to resolve without Vin being nosy. 

***********

Mary was at the sink washing dishes when Chris entered the house.

After everything today, he forgot what a bastard he was to his wife the night before and conceded that it was time to make amends. Seeing his father today taught him one thing, sometimes a man just had to face the music. She looked over her shoulder at him as she heard his footsteps in the kitchen, saying nothing when her blue-grey eyes met his and returned to her chore before the sink.

The brief contact filled Chris immediately with guilt because he saw the hurt lingering in her eyes from his behaviour the night before. Taking a deep breath, he slid his arms around her and lowered his lips to her neck. Mary stiffened at his touch even though she stopped what she was doing. He could sense she was not at all moved by this gesture of tenderness and considering how he behaved, Chris could hardly blame her.

"I’m sorry." He said softly in her ear. "I had no right to behave that way last night. I ain’t got an excuse for it."

Mary did not speak for a moment, but she did not push him away either as he held her. "Are you sorry we’re having a baby Chris?" She asked softly, her voice was low and fearful as if she were dreading his answer. 

Chris was taken back by the question but then again, after how he had reacted, realised it was a legitimate question.

"I’m not sorry." He replied and knew it was the truth. "I’m just a little scared of how it’s going to change me. I’ve been living this life for so long, I forgot I was used to be a father and a husband too. I love you, and I love Billy, and I love this baby that’s all of us," he caressed her swelling abdomen. "And I had no cause to take it out on you because I was feeling bad."

Mary could never really stay mad at Chris for very long and knew his apology was in earnest. She leaned back into his embrace, a clear indication her anger was fading, and things were right between them. "You’re such an idiot."

"Like you’re always saying," Chris smiled faintly, showering her slender neck with light kisses. "I’m a man, you can’t expect much better." 

"That’s right and don’t you forget it. Have you eaten?" 

"Not yet," he answered, somewhat guilty that he had missed supper too.

"I’ll fix you something." She said, turning around and facing him. "Sit down."

After months of marriage, Chris knew when one of her orders was not a request and complied after kissing her on the lips, just to show he was not wholly submissive.

"So what on earth was wrong with you last night?" Mary asked as she busied herself, warming the dinner she had prepared for him earlier, in the event, he came into supper. "I haven’t seen you that annoyed since that time you had to bail Ezra, Josiah and Buck from that jail in Jamestown."

"Don’t remind me," Chris winced, recalling the incident involving a card game, an argument over a saloon girl and too much alcohol. He found all three in jail with hangovers the size of the Grand Canyon and had to smooth things over with the sheriff of that town so they could be let out. "Yesterday wasn’t as bad as today." He remarked, noting she made pie and felt his stomach leap with excitement over the prospect of the eating to come. Mary made the best pies.

"What happened today?" She glanced over her shoulder at him in concern, unable to imagine what could place him in an even worse mood than he was yesterday.

Chris supposed he should tell her. Word was going to get around quickly, and if he thought Mary had let him off lightly for his jackassery last night, it would be nothing compared to her fury if she learnt about his father from a source other than him. Clearing his throat, he tried to say the words, with no idea how a simple statement of fact could be so difficult to utter. 

"My father just showed up in town."

Mary stopped what she was doing immediately and turned around. "Your father?" She looked at him in disbelief. "I thought you were raised by bears."

Chris gave her a look. "What is it with you and Buck?" 

"I’m sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "Your father? I didn’t know he was alive. You’ve never talked about him. Has he come here to see you?"

She fired about a dozen questions at him so quickly Chris had no idea where one began, and the other ended, however, he did manage to get a word in edgewise when she paused for a breath. "No, he didn’t come to town to see me," Chris replied and then went on to explain their experiences yesterday with Bellison and the nitro. Mary would have only been aware Alex was injured through some form of misadventure, but the nitro’s existence was something of a secret.

"So it was just blind luck that he was the one the army sent?" Mary asked, having served him his food and sat down to hear more on this subject.

"More or less." Chris frowned, unable to believe how fate worked sometimes. He spent the last twenty-one years trying to avoid facing his father and reached a point in his life where he could live with their alienation but now with the general’s return forced him to confront his regret at how he had conducted himself.

"So where is he?" Mary looked at him. "Did you invite him here to stay?"

"No!" Chris exclaimed horrified. "I don’t want him here!"

"Chris?" Mary stared at him with nothing less than astonishment. "The man is your father. You haven’t seen him in God only knows how long and you don’t even invite him to your home, to meet your family?’

"I can’t face him."

"Its time that you did." She pointed out. "You can’t run away from him forever."

"I’m not running." Chris protested, knowing in the truth he was. He had not stayed long enough to allow the general to make any inquiry about his life here and knew the reason for his apprehension. Tomorrow. Chris wasn't sure how he was going to cope spending the whole day with his father, even if it was in the line of duty. As much as he wanted to find Bellison and Julius, Chris was willing to ignore the whole situation if it meant he could ignore Marcus Larabee as well.

"Then invite him to dinner tomorrow night." She challenged. "You’re his son and its only right that you do so unless you don’t wish to face him."

"I don’t," Chris muttered under his breath but knew she was probably right, but he could not bring himself to do it. Chris picked at his food, feeling like a kid that was forced to do something he did not want to. Suddenly, Chris had a deeper understanding of what Billy endured when Mary required something of him. The child did not wish to undertake.

"Chris." Mary stared at him, reproachfully. "You can’t avoid this forever."

"I can try." He said shortly and put enough tension behind his voice to indicate that he did not want to discuss it further. Unfortunately for him, Mary was not about to let the matter rest even if he was going to be pig-headed about it. She could see it in his eyes he wished things were different. Still, typical male pride and the so generic version specific to men whose names ended with Larabee kept him from making the necessary conciliatory effort.

"It's up to you, of course." She responded and rose from the table. "Well, I’ve got to go check on Alex. See how’s she doing." Mary started to withdraw from the kitchen, glad he did not look up at her as she tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

"Alright," Chris nodded, deep in thought at the valid points she had made about how he was handling this. "Don’t be too long. It’s getting pretty dark out there."

"I won’t be." She smiled and hurried out the kitchen door, hoping that he would not be too mad at her for what she was about to do.

***********

"You know," Ezra Standish said inside the confines of the Standish saloon, staring at the contents of the shot glass he was about to drink from, gathering his thoughts in the amber fluid that swirled within. "I always thought Mr Larabee had some mysterious origins, but I must say even this has outdone my most fanciful imaginings on the subject."

"I gotta agree with you," Nathan admitted, glancing sheepishly at Rain who was frowning her disapproval at his return to the saloon, even though he should be studying hard for his coming medical exams. "I thought Chris might have been in the army, but I can’t picture his being from a rich family, let alone a rich military family."

"I can," JD replied, wondering how anyone else could not see it. Chris always carried himself with authority and men naturally looked to him for leadership, even his older companions who would rather believe they were outcasts who found their place in this odd fellowship. Accurate as that might be, there was even more precise, it was Chris who bound them together. There was something about him that inspired other people to gain his respect because it was quite something to win favour in the man’s eyes. Chris appeared to have seen much in his lifetime and had no patience for fools, so when he considered someone apart of his circle, it was a privilege. Having met the General, though, explained a great deal about why Chris Larabee was the man he was.

"You would," Buck replied, deciding he would have one more drink for the road before he went home. "You’d have fun watching a rattlesnake just before he bit you." Buck was still in preponderance over Chris's s words, trying to understand what the gunslinger might have done to have so much guilt. He thought Chris's guilt at the loss of Sarah and was deep enough, but his guilt now appeared even worse, mostly because on some level, Chris knew their deaths were not his fault. However, the same could not be said about this. For the life of him, Buck could not imagine why.

Vin returned to the saloon at that moment, deciding to grab a quick drink and see if Rain was up to cooking him some dinner to take to Alex when he noticed his friends congregating around their usual table in the saloon. No doubt discussing the events of the day or more precisely, General Larabee. The tracker went to Rain first and made his request for dinner before joining his friends as they speculated upon the surprise arrival of Chris's father.

"Is the good general tucked away at the hotel?" Buck asked.

"Yeah." Vin nodded, perfectly aware Buck was dying to know if the general said anything to him about Chris. "He is now."

"It’s a damn shame that Chris is so pig-headed about his father," Buck attempted to prompt Vin into talking, a tactic not lost on the tracker or anyone else with an ounce of intelligence for that matter.

"Yeah." Vin nodded with a completely straight face, wise to what Buck was attempting to do. Still, he was unprepared to reveal anything discussed between him and the General.

"I believe Mr Wilmington is on a fishing expedition," Ezra replied.

"Thanks a lot, Ezra," Buck fumed, giving the gambler a dark look. "I was trying to soften him up."

"I think we all were aware of that Buck." Josiah retorted. "You need a little more practise at being subtle." The preacher easing back into his chair and taking the head off his mug of beer.

"Alright then," Buck bristled. "I’m a little out of practice."

"You mean you were actually subtle at some point?" Nathan joined in on the teasing. They were all firmly in Vin’s corner at this point, believing Chris's s troubles with his father were his own and not for them to discuss so blithely or interfere in any attempt at reconciliation. When it came to Chris Larabee, friend or not, it was the surest way to get something shot off, and as Chris put it so succinctly, it would probably be something that would not grow back.

"Come on, Vin," Buck demanded. "What did he say?"

"Nothing that I want to repeat." Vin declared and decided some ground rules needed to be placed before someone did or said something that was going to create more difficulty between father and son than existed already. "Buck, I’d stay out of this if I were you. It don’t sound like neither Chris nor his dad needs anyone helping them out."

"You don’t know Chris," Buck protested. "He’ll keep this inside and be as stubborn as a mule about it, and before you know it, his dad will be gone, and he’ll just let him go without saying a word."

"Maybe we should let him be Buck," JD remarked, believing Chris was smart enough to make his own decisions without Buck interfering. JD could understand it when Buck felt the need to butt in when it came to him but not someone like Chris, who was old enough and in JD’s opinion, smart enough to know whether he wanted help or not.

"Buck," Vin spoke up and used a tone of voice rarely heard but unable to ignore when he felt enough to impress it on people. "Let it go. You’ll do more harm than good by trying to help because Chris has got to make a choice himself to set things right between him and his pa, ain’t no one can make it for him."

Buck frowned because he knew Vin was right and seeing the faces around him nod in agreement, realised they believed the same and so should he.

"Alright then," Buck conceded defeat. "I’ll stay out of it, but I’m telling you, Chris ain’t gonna do anything if no one pushes him into it."

"Well, I seriously doubt," Ezra drawled removing a deck of cards from inside his burgundy coloured coat. "Anyone with the possible exception of you Mr Wilmington would be foolish enough to do that."

***********

Once Mary arrived at the hotel, it did not take her long to find out what room the general and his attache was occupying. As she made her way into the dining room where the hotel clerk told her he saw Marcus Larabee and Colonel Markham adjourning to the restaurant for some dinner, she questioned what she was doing. Mary knew her husband, and even though Mary saw it in Chris's face, he hated the way things stood between himself and his father, pride and twenty years of hesitation was keeping him from doing what he ought to do to set things right. Loving a man like Chris Larabee was all about taking risks, and as she allowed her eyes to search the dining room for a Union general, it was not difficult to spot the father when she was in love with the son.

The resemblance stood out immediately. Same build, same shape fo the face. The general's dirty blond hair was greying rapidly, and the eyes were the same and the set of the jaw. She approached the table, having no idea how to introduce herself and knowing the lack of knowledge regarding any subject never stopped her from acting. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the table, capturing the General’s interest immediately. He rose to his feet as it was proper for officer and gentlemen alike to do so in the company of a lady.

"General Larabee," Mary said politely. "I'm Mary, Chris's wife."

"I am pleased to meet you." He answered with a genuine smile of warmth. Like Chris, it all showed in the eyes. "Join us."

He sounded so much like Chris, it was uncanny, and yet his voice was different, but8jh the tone and the manner were the same. 

"General," Markham rose to his feet. "I should be turning in. Mrs Larabee," he bowed politely in his direction, no doubt his sudden departure arising from his belief that they needed privacy to discuss family matters. "It was a pleasure."

Mary offered a polite response and waited until Markham left before she turned her attention to her father-in-law. "I came to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening." Mary launched into the reason for this introduction.

"Really?" He raised a brow. "Does Christopher know about this invitation?"

"No," Mary answered. "But I’m sure he won’t mind." Actually, he was going to mind a lot, he was going to start minding the minute Mary went home and told him about it. However, she would face anything for Chris Larabee, even his wrath.

"I think you will find otherwise." He remarked, not wishing to cause any trouble between Chris and his wife. Although he did confess to liking this spirited creature with the cascading gold hair who captured his son’s heart and by her effect on his life, allowed him to begin a new existence in this frontier town.

"Probably," she confessed with a smile. "But that’s my problem, not yours. It is my wish you join your son, your step-grandson and myself for dinner tomorrow. Can you attend?"

"He will be angry with you." Larabee pointed out.

"I can handle it." Mary declared firmly. "He’s been mad at me before."

The general gave her a genuine smile of pleasure telling her that he would indeed appear at the Larabee household if just to see how she would fare against Chris when she told him about this. "For your trouble, I’ll be there."

"Good, then I’ll expect you for supper tomorrow night then." Mary smiled and started to leave.

"You don’t have to do this," Larabee spoke up, halting her progress away from his table.

"I want to," Mary looked at her father in law and dropped her hand to her belly. "I have a child coming into this world that would like to know its grandfather, I’m sure of it."

Larabee lowered his gaze long enough to nod slightly in understanding. "You’re like his mother, you know."

"Really?" Mary said with surprise because she knew almost nothing about Chris's s family. It was not that he avoided the topic, it’s just that he did not volunteer anything. Mary knew nothing about Chris's s past before the war, and she wondered now why she had not asked. Chris was a private person, and before their courtship, Mary had learned to respect it. Except now she was his wife, and they should be able to share everything together, even who they had been in the lifetime before Four Corners.

"She was stubborn too." He grinned.

"Well," Mary raised a brow and said with a straight face. "Like father, like son."

"My grandson," Larabee inquired. "He has a name?"

"Billy." She replied, happy he had inquired after her son and indicated he took to heart what she said about wanting him to be apart of their family, no matter how adverse Chris was to this at the moment. "He’s eight years old, gets into more trouble than I know what to do with." 

The general nodded slightly, and for a moment, his eyes clouded over and went a faraway place as enigmatic as it was sad, Mary thought. "He has that much in common with Christopher then," Larabee said with a smile, perhaps trying to understand why things had gone so wrong between them.

"Billy would be thrilled to hear all about it," Mary answered and knew that to be the truth.

She just hoped Chris would be as well.

Chapter Four
Shadows of Conspiracy

Things had changed in Purgatory.

When Vin Tanner first introduced him to this little town on the edge of the border, Chris was appalled by the way things were around here. Everyone who wanted a place to disappear, at some point or another arrived in Purgatory. Trade was tailored to serve those on the fringes of society, with little respect for the law. The businesses in operation in Purgatory would not be tolerated in towns where good Christian folk were in residence. Cat houses with their ladies, painted and barely dressed in worn silk finery beckoned travellers as they rode through the main street. There were saloons where the rotgut sold could make a man blind if he was brave enough or desperate enough to partake of it, not to mention the sawbones who sought to pass themselves off as doctors.

It was the place where your boots were stolen off your feet if you should be unlucky to die in the street.

Unfortunately, as much as it was a den of villainy and lawlessness, it was also a melting pot of information. In Purgatory, people talked, and the words spoken were almost a commodity valuable enough to trade. On numerous occasions, Chris and Vin had found this place to provide answers where none could be found elsewhere. Usually received from Maria, a saloon girl whose acquaintance with Chris was far closer than he liked to remember, she kept her ears open provided reliable intelligence while being smart enough to ensure that she was not labelled an informant. Fortunately, she spent enough time in the past with Chris Larabee behind closed doors for the rest of Purgatory to assume his visits to her were innocent in their sin. 

However, as they rode into Purgatory this time, there was something strangely different about the place that was difficult to discern at first. Instead of the usual revelry, there was an atmosphere of tensions constricting the typical colour from the town. Instead of drunken bandits roaming the streets looking for a fight, working girls visible for the eye to see, there was nothing but quiet that resonated through the dusty streets and made the new arrivals tense with unease.

"Is it me or are things a might quiet from what it usually is?" Vin asked as the continued towards the saloon where Maria was known to frequent.

"Something has spooked these people," Chris agreed, watching the apprehension in the eyes of those who lived here permanently. It took a few minutes from Chris to survey the place and discover what so different about it.

"You’re right," Larabee responded, his steely gaze conducting the same study. Even though this was his first visit to Purgatory before, he had seen enough ugliness in his lifetime to recognise intimidation

"I don’t see anyone," Vin remarked, pinpointing it at last. While the locals could be seen, Vin could not see any signs of travellers like themselves. It was as if Purgatory was abandoned and yet, there were horses hitched outside the saloons and brothels, which was a clear indicator someone was here. Suddenly, Vin was grateful the General had forgone the uniform today and was clad in regular civilian clothing that made him look like any other traveller from these parts.

"Let’s find Maria," Chris replied, suddenly concerned about the lady's welfare. Even though they had not been lovers since he and Mary started their relationship, he still had a great deal of affection for the young woman who offered him comfort and warmth at a time when he was sorely in need of it. He was equally grateful she had made it feel like it was more than just a paid convenience.

"She a working girl?" His father looked at him.

"Something like that," Chris answered, feeling uncomfortable about discussing Maria with him. It was hard enough discussing the subject at hand, without touching on their strained relationship. The last thing Chris wanted was for him to know about his previous dalliances as well.

Larabee nodded, having said nothing about his encounter with Mary the night before. Considering he was going to turn up at Chris’s door this evening, the General was trying hard not to make things any worse. The boy’s wife was determined they share a meal together, and Larabee liked her enough to make that wish a reality. In truth, he was curious to know how his son was faring in Four Corners and getting on with his life after the tragic death of the daughter in law and grandson he had never managed to meet.

They dismounted off their horses and made their way to the outdoor saloon, where Maria spent most of her time. The establishment was a mish-mash of corrugated iron, crumbling brick walls and canvas, but somehow it served as a saloon by the number of clients inside it at the moment was any indication of its success. The moment the trio entered the establishment, all eyes fell on them. Maria, who was at the bar, immediately rose to her feet and approached them with a radiant smile on her face.

"Senor," she greeted exuberantly. "I have been waiting for you." Without allowing him to say anything else, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips to him in a passionate kiss.

For a moment, Chris had no idea what she was trying to do until n her lips shifted furtively to his ear and whispered. "Play along, Senor. It is not safe here any more."

"Well its good to see you too," Chris responded by returning her kiss, much to Vin's astonishment and the General's disapproval. Both were staring at him hard, unspoken in their reproach because of his marital status. Chris left Maria’s lips but kept his arms draped around her waist. "I told my friends here you would take care of them." He grinned with suggestion for the benefit of those that might be watching.

"Of course I can Senor," she broke away from Vin and repeated the same seductive greeting by kissing the tracker on the lips and running her fingers through his dark hair. Once she completed the performance, she pulled away and beckoned them with a smile. "Come with me, I have a room."

Saying nothing further but appearing as if they were here for a good time instead of information, the three visitors followed the sultry Latin beauty out of the saloon. Maria led them across the street towards a rather run-down building Chris remembered was the lodging house where Maria kept a room. She stayed close to Chris, continuing the facade as her arms remained wrapped around his waist while periodically exchanging kisses with him until they arrived in her room.

Once in the privacy of the small room, furnished only with a bed, a wooden chair, bureau and a washstand, Maria pulled herself away from Chris. "I am sorry, Senor." She said genuinely apologetic because she knew he took his vows of marriage seriously. "Things have changed around here."

"I’ve noticed." Chris frowned wiping the red colouring on her lips from his face before he went home to avoid a great deal of explaining. "What’s happened here?"

"I ain’t seen this place so dead in all the times I’ve been this way," Vin remarked as he eased onto the bed.

"People look scared." Larabee agreed, walking toward the window and parting the curtains wide enough to look outside. Thanks to Maria’s bit of play-acting, their presence here did not attract any unwelcome attention, but he would still like to know what was happening to frighten locals to such an extent. With all the violence commonplace in this kind of community, it had to be something considerable to shake their jaded foundations.

"They are scared." Maria swallowed. "Ever since these men rode into town, the word has gone out that Purgatory is no longer a safe haven."

"What men?" Chris asked, joining his father at the window, trying to unravel Maria's words. 

"They came about two weeks ago, and they’ve run out of town everyone who is not one of their kind," Maria explained. "Those who do not leave are killed."

"How many of them are there?" Chris asked, knowing it would take a few men to create this kind of atmosphere, especially in a place like Purgatory, which was mostly frequented by hardened outlaws.

"Enough to chase every hombre out of town. They have not left, and they make sure those who are not of one them do not stay for very long." She shivered. "That is why I had to bring you up here. If they saw me talking to you like we always do, I think they would hurt me."

This troubled Chris. He didn't like the idea of Maria being in danger because of them. "Do you have any idea who they are or what they want?" He asked again. He could see the men in question through the clouded glass of the dirty window and had to admit, they did not look at all like the regular cut of visitors who came to Purgatory. There was something in their manner, revealing there were using Purgatory for more than just laying low. It almost felt as if they were waiting. Chris wondered if what they were waiting for was nitro.

"I do not know," she shook her head. "But they remind me of soldiers." Maria volunteered, unafraid to show that these men frightened.

"Not soldiers," Larabee glanced at Chris and then Vin. "But they are definitely from an army of some kind."

"You think these men are from Julius’ shadow group?" Chris turned to him, unable to deny the thought had crossed his mind too.

"This would be a good a place as any to hide out and wait for orders," Vin commented. "If these are the same bastards who came after us at the ranch." The tracker’s dislike was apparent, and Chris knew that he was itching to give the men who had shot Alex some well-deserved payback.

"Which mean," Larabee said grimly. "We ought to get out of here."

"Not yet," Chris declared. "If these are Julius’ men, they might know where he is. Or at least what his plans are."

"This isn’t the time to get that kind of information." Larabee countered. "If these are the same men who came after you and your friends, they’ll know you on sight and shoot us before we can get out of town. We need to leave and send someone they haven’t seen who has a reason to be here other than looking for information."

Chris and Vin looked at each other. "Ezra."

"The gambler?" Larabee asked, remembering the southerner in the fancy burgundy coat and could agree with that choice. Although he stood out in a crowd, there was no way one could mistake Ezra for a lawman unless they knew him personally. Ezra had a better chance of infiltration and getting information than anyone else in the seven. "That could work."

"Yeah," Chris nodded. "He’ll bitch some about having to do this, but Ezra knows how to get people to talk."

"And I will keep my ears open for you," Maria added, always willing to help.

Chris turned around and faced her immediately. "Not a chance." He replied. "I know you want to help and I’ll be glad if you’ve got any new that comes your way but don’t go searching for it. If these bastards are willing to kill anyone who gets in their way. I don’t want you hurt."

Maria blushed, slightly touched by Chris’ concern for her. "I will be fine, Senor." She offered him a grateful smile, feeling pleased there was someone who cared for her as more than a piece of flesh he paid for and envied the woman who captured his heart.

"He is right ma’am," Vin replied. "They didn't think twice about shooting a woman. Cross them, and they’ll kill you."

Maria conceded defeat at last in the face of that ominous advice and nodded. "Gracias," she sighed. "But you should leave now. There are people here who know who you are and might tell them."

"She’s right," Larabee answered, and then he looked at her. "You have someplace you can go to?"

"Si Senor," Maria nodded. "I have friends who live out of town."

"Good," the general showed his relief with the short escape of breath. "I suggest you go there and we better make tracks. They don’t know why we’re here, let’s not give them a reason to get suspicious."

Chris did not like running out of town like a bunch of outlaws, but if there were as many of Julius men’s in Purgatory as they suspected, then staying was around would get them all killed. Moreover, it was highly likely Bellison was in town, and the moment he saw Chris, he would set his entire horde of fanatics upon his hated enemy, and not even Chris wanted to face those odds. He did not mind the dying but going out of this world with Bellison and Julius still living was something did not at all sit well with him.

"Alright," he sighed, forced to agree that the General was right. "Let's get the hell out of here."

***********

"This is getting us nowhere," Buck said emerging from the jailhouse and leaving Markham within the building to deal with the prisoners they had been interrogating most of the day. Despite their best efforts to get some idea of what Julius agenda was planning with the nitroglycerin he hijacked a government train to acquire, his men had little or no information of any value. Even though Markham was steadfast in his belief persistence would win the day, Buck was long past that opinion and formed a different theory of his own.

"They ain’t talking?" Josiah asked as he sat on the foot of the steps leading to the jailhouse, smoking a piece of cheroot.

"Not a word." Buck frowned as he sat down heavily next to the preacher who was on guard duty as per Chris’s orders. While it appeared the men inside the jailhouse may be nothing more than hired hands on the surface, Chris took no chances with the possibility they might be dealing with fanatics. If these men believed in a cause strongly enough, they might be willing to die to defend it or at the very least, say nothing to protect it. Until it could be established, the prisoners were no more than what they claimed, they were to remain in the jailhouse indefinitely. 

Colonel Markham seemed was in agreement with the younger Larabee’s assertion and wished to question the men himself, not voicing his opinion he felt he would have better success than a group of gunfighters.

"If they know anything," Buck sighed casting his gaze across the busy street and enjoying the mild heat of morning sun on his face as he tried to shake the knot that that formed in his stomach ever since he heard about Bellison and by extension, Julius. "They ain’t saying, or they’re hiding it well."

"You think they’re lying?" Josiah asked.

Buck Wilmington could be a paradox at time. While he tended to project an image of being a well-meaning, good-natured oaf, he possessed an intellect capable of reading people. It was also why he was able to use that deep well of compassion to help the emotionally wrought who needed friendship. There was something of the crusader in Buck because he felt the need to salvage even the most ravaged psyche while at the same time nurturing the ones needing guidance, JD for instance. In truth, Buck’s concern towards JD was more fatherly than it was as a friend because the boy who by all accounts, had not known his father JD benefited greatly from Buck's guidance and convinced all of them even before Buck knew it, he would be a great father. Buck’s empathy made him quite astute at reading people, and if he believed Bellison’s men were insincere, then Josiah accepted that as fact.

"They could be." He sighed. "There’s something about them that don’t sit quite right about with me. Sure, they don’t want to get blown up, but maybe they gave up because they didn’t want anything to happen to the nitro."

"That’s might be," Josiah had to admit now that someone had voiced, he too thought the prisoners had given up quickly, enough for their motivations to be suspect. Although one could not underestimate the effect of an explosion, the likes of which had not been seen since God smote Sodom, might also be a compelling factor to surrender.

"I think Chris is right about us keeping them here indefinitely," Buck answered. "No telling what they might do if we let them go. They might just turn around and try to get that shipment back."

"When is the army meant to be here?"

"According to the Colonel, sometime today." Buck wished they knew more about what Julius was planning because a thought had been looming in his mind ever since they ran into Beillison. Now that Julius knew he and Chris were here, would they man want vengeance? After all, it was because of Chris that Julius and Bellison languished in a military stockade for God only knew how long. If the man was vengeful enough to shoot Chris in the back, he might have cause to do worse now that Chris was back in his sights. 

"What’s troubling you, Buck?" Josiah inquired, able to see the worry in his eyes, despite Buck’s attempt to hide it.

"I’m just wondering whether I ought to get Inez and the baby into town for a few days until this blows over," Buck responded, feeling a little embarrassed about bringing up the subject because he did not want to seem overly paranoid. However, he could not dispel the feeling of fear they were wide open to attack out there on the homestead alone.

The preacher met his gaze and saw there was real fear in his eyes. "You want to tell me about it?" There was more to his worries than just the nitro, that much Josiah could tell. Buck Wilmington was rarely tense about anything, and the responsibilities of being a family man were still new to him, so he had not yet learned to hide it as well.

Buck had not thought about the unsavoury events surrounding his first meeting with Chris Larabee in years. Chris was the same, particularly in light of what Julius’s bullet had almost done to him. When Chris was recovering in that field hospital, Buck stayed with him for as long as he could because never forgot the terror he saw in Chris’s face until the first sensations returned to his legs. It was not something a man could ever forget, and probably Chris never wanted to talk about it.

"I was mostly responsible for what happened to Julius after he shot Chris. When the rest of the men heard the gunshot, they were scattered around the place, so they didn’t see it happened. Bellison was more than ready to cover up for him, and Julius was about to blame it on some non-existent Reb sniper. I wasn’t about to let him get away with that, so I told them what really happened. Chris saved all our asses that day, and I wasn’t about to let him die. I knew Julius wouldn’t let us take him to a field hospital to save his life. So yeah, I told the rest of the men Julius shot Chris in the back for keeping us alive."

Josiah did not need to hear the rest of the tell since he had a good idea what happened next, not merely because of the tale related to them the evening before but because Chris Larabee had the tendency to inspire the loyalty in those who rode with him. Josiah could just picture a young Lieutenant Larabee taking charge of the unit when Julius had given his deadly instructions, circumventing them to engender a more favourable outcome. He could also picture the men whose lives he saved being incensed at how he was rewarded for his courage to save them.

"I didn’t have to say anything for them to lay into Bellison and Julius, just the truth." Buck continued. "They would have torn him apart if I hadn’t reasoned with them that we had to get Chris help. We marched off the line to get Chris to the hospital and even then we weren’t sure he was going to make it."

"How bad was he hit?" The preacher inquired, unable to deny his fascination at hearing this story because it went some way to explaining why Chris had such aversion to shooting anyone in the back.

"Pretty badly," Buck said quietly, remembering the sheer panic on Chris’s face when he had first woke up after being unconscious in bed for almost three days. "He got shot in the back, and the doctors weren’t sure at first that they could keep him from being crippled. I think all up, he spent two months getting better and the first two or three of those weeks, he had no feeling in his legs. I don’t think I ever saw him that scared, ever."

"Thing like that would scare anyone," Josiah had to admit. A man in this day and age was defined by whether or not he could stand tall and Chris had too much pride in himself to settle for less. Josiah could appreciate how terrifying those two weeks must have been for Chris as he lingered between not knowing if his life as he knew was over and unable to imagine how to cope if it was. The preacher would not wish that limbo on anyone.

"It sure scared Chris, and the army threw the book at both Julius and Bellison," Buck revealed. "I think if Bellison saw Chris and maybe me too, they might get it in their heads to get some revenge."

Clearly, this had unsettled Buck and having experienced the ferocity of the enemy’s attack first hand, he could understand why Buck wanted to protect his family from such men. They had no aversion to shooting down women as witnessed as they gunned down Alex. The only reason the doctor survived was that Vin was present. It hollowed the preacher’s inside to think what would happen if Inez and little Elena Rose were left to the ministrations of such savagery. Bellison had cause enough to deliver such a blow just to get his revenge.

"Better safe than sorry," Josiah answered and thought quickly on a course of action. "I’ll go talk to Miss Julia, I’m sure she wouldn’t have any trouble riding out to your place and get Inez and the baby in town."

"Thanks, Josiah," Buck broke with a smile, clearly relieved because he had an obligation to join the others who were at Nettie’s keeping watch on the nitro. "You think Julia will mind?"

"I don’t think so," Josiah answered, knowing the young lady had a soft spot for him which allowed him a little mileage to exploit her affection for a good cause. Besides, he could see the indecision assaulting Buck as he deliberated between whether or not he was being overly cautious in his concerns or neglecting his family. Josiah hoped his solution helped a little. "You know women, they love any chance to go visiting."

"Damn straight," Buck grinned, his spirit picked up a little until he saw Markham emerge from inside the jailhouse looking just as frustrated as Buck had been earlier. The colonel paused at the steps before the two men and tried not to show his annoyance at his failure.

"How did go Colonel?" Buck asked innocently, perfectly aware Markham’s effects had been negligible.

"Not so good," the soldier frowned unhappily. "I swear those men are extremely practised at being evasive. If I didn’t know better…." The thought faded from his lips when he realised he had not a shred of proof for his beliefs, no matter how strong a gut feeling he had.

"You’d say they were lying?" Buck finished the sentence he could not complete.

"You got that feeling too?" The soldier asked with a little smile.

"I do." The lawmen nodded. "I think that we had better lock them up good because there’s too much about them, we don’t know."

"They could be Citadel members." Markham sighed, wishing he had something more concrete because he had spent a life adhering to facts, not supposition. Being in military intelligence demanded such precision because lives could be lost on hearsay and what-ifs. "However, the ones we’ve encountered are extremely violent men, easily provoked into speaking their mind. At least all the ones we’ve ever managed to get our hands on."

"Have there been many?" Josiah looked at the colonel who was not much older than him but seemed bland and featureless. Markham could disappear into a crowd and remain hidden indefinitely if he liked. It made him perfect for uncovering secrets.

"Enough to know Julius is getting quite a following." The colonel said grimly. "For the last two to three years, he has been gathering momentum. He gets them in with all this idealism and unity of man, but he keeps them in through violence. Those who stay are the fanatics and a whole army of fanatics is a nightmare I don’t want to imagine becoming a reality."

"Funny how reasonable men who believe in freedom and justice and all the good things in life are willing to murder if they believe any of that is under threat." The preacher remarked.

"Well, Julius ain’t no believer in any of those things," Buck said, rising to his feet. "The only thing he believes in is seeing how many men he put in the ground to be called a hero."

"The most dangerous thing of all," Markham added with a dark expression on his face. "Is he truly believes it."

***********

Mary was nervous and knew she had good reason to feel this way considering that in less than half an hour or so, the general was going to come knocking on the front door for dinner and she had yet to tell Chris that they had a dinner guest. He returned home less than an hour ago, determined to be present at the evening meal for which he was absent the last few days, and make amends to Mary for their earlier quarrel. As Mary put the finishing touches on the food and the kitchen wafting with the aroma of all sort of savouries, she wondered why Chris had not observed all her efforts just supper. Well, he was a man, after all, Mary sighed.

Mary stepped into the dining room, wherewith Billy's help, she laid out the good cutlery and crockery while Chris cleaned up for supper, unaware of the surprise she was about to spring on him. Although she wanted to tell him this morning, the unhappy expression on his face at having to ride out to Purgatory with his father was deterrent enough for her to postpone her news until later today. Unfortunately, she didn't find the opportunity or the nerve for that matter, to tell him when he got home and with the eleventh hour fast approaching, telling him now was going to be a redundant gesture.

"Ma, why are you setting another place?" Billy asked when he helped her set the table. During the days before Chris became a permanent member of the household, it was one of the chores Billy delighted in doing with her. In his mind, it was his duty and wouldn't like giving up for anyone. In fact, Billy told himself resolutely he would have to point this out to the new baby when it arrived.

"Quiet Billy," Mary said gently, looking about apprehensively in case Chris would have overheard the question. Of course, it was impossible since he was in the upstairs bedroom, getting a bath and discarding his dusty clothes for fresh ones. "It’s a surprise for Chris."

"A surprise for Chris?" The boy’s face brightened. "What sort of surprise?" He asked excitedly as he was with anything relating to his adored stepfather.

"We’ve got a guest coming," Mary answered, keeping her voice down and telling herself she was being ridiculous since Chris was nowhere in hearing distance. "But you can’t tell Chris until he gets here, promise?" She looked at her son, sternly.

"I promise." He nodded, his tiny chin wrinkling with the determination not to betray his mother’s trust.

"Well, now you've promised," she looked at him, stroking her palm across his cheek. "Someone special is coming to see Chris. It’s his pa."

"Chris’s pa!" Billy exclaimed before he remembered it was a secret and quickly whispered in a lower voice. "Chris has a pa?"

"Yes he does," Mary answered, lowering herself so she could meet her son eye to eye. "Now Chris hasn’t seen his father in a long time, and it might be a bit of a surprise to him so you mustn’t tell Chris his father is here until he arrives. Can you do that for me?" She gave him the look telling him how important this was. 

"I can do that ma," he beamed and continued setting the table without a care in the world.

Mary envied the bliss of youth and gazed apprehensively at the ceiling, wondering if she were not perhaps overreacting a little. Maybe it would not be so bad. Although Chris had not come out and said it, she was confident he wished things were different between his father and himself. All Mary had done really, was to give them a little nudge towards reconciliation. There was no great sin in that. In fact, if one really looked at it, it could be said that she was doing a good thing, a real test of love for her husband. That’s what she had done, proven her love for Chris and he could not be mad at her for that surely?

Then the door knocked, and Mary's well-crafted fantasy faded away as surely as the sound of knuckles rapping against the door.

"Mary!" Chris Larabee sang out at the top of the stairs as he heard the door knocking. "Someone’s at the door."

When the second knock was heard, and she had yet to answer it, Chris decided since he was on his way down, he might as well get it anyway. Hopefully, no great catastrophe had taken place since his return from Purgatory requiring his attention. He was guilty enough how much time he spent away from home this past week and looked forward to spending an evening with Mary and Billy. Although he promised himself never neglect his wife and son, now he had a family again, Chris could not ignore his responsibilities to Four Corner either. This meant, he would be one of those men who could never count on being present for every supper. 

Since Mary had yet to answer the door and was no doubt in the midst of dinner preparations, Chris hastened his descent down the stairs. However, he soon heard Billy's footsteps stomping across the hallway to get it first. Relaxed his pace, Chris had just stepped off the stairs when he heard a familiar voice addressing Billy at the doorway. Chris froze in place as he forced himself to complete the journey, not wanting to believe what he was hearing but could reach no other explanation.

"Ma said you were coming...." Chris heard Billy greet the new arrival and swallowed when he listened to the response.

"You must be Billy." The General’s voice answered and Chris who had yet to be seen by his stepson or his father, stood in the shadows, trying to discern what the man was doing here before he realised there was only one way this could have happened. 

Mary.

Chris took a deep breath and did not bother to greet his father at the door since Billy had taken care of that already. Instead, he tried to rein in the fury bubbling inside him as he strode towards the kitchen where his dear wife was presently putting the finishing touches to supper. As he passed by the dining room, he saw the table set with table cloth and the fancy china Mary only used for guests and smouldered as his suspicions were confirmed. Part of Chris could not believe how she had gone behind his back and done this, and then another part of him was hardly surprised because it was just the sort of thing Mary would do and probably because she thought that it was the right thing to do. Weighing in these factors before he reached the kitchen did alleviate his extreme displeasure at what she had done. A little. 

Mary was pulling off her stove mitts when he entered the room and expected his appearance the minute she heard the door knock.

"Something you want to tell me?" He stared at her hard, telling himself over and over again not to say anything he would regret.

"That depends on how mad you’re going to be." She offered meekly.

"It’s gone past that now." Chris folded his arms and bearing down on her with that sharp gaze making feel like a little girl caught in some act of mischief. "So you might as well tell me."

"Chris," she took a deep breath of false courage, refusing to be intimidated by him. "He is your father. It’s only the thing to do. You don’t let family come to town without even inviting them to dinner. I thought it would be nice for Billy to meet his grandfather." It was a lame excuse, and she knew it, but it seemed a great deal less provocative than telling him he was a pig-headed idiot.

Chris straightened up instinctively and came towards her. "You had no right to do this." He growled in a low voice. "What’s happening between my father and me is my business, not yours!"

"I am your wife." Mary tried not to bristle at that statement. "When I married you, I accepted everything in your life to become part of mine, including your father. He’s not just apart of your family, he’s also mine, and I will not allow this petulance to continue. I asked him to join us for dinner because I thought you were adult enough to at least sit across the table from him for a meal. Was I wrong?"

"No, you weren’t," Chris grumbled, knowing she was right but refusing to forgive her nonetheless. "I’ll go out there, and I’ll be polite, but when he goes, we’re going to have some talking to do."

With that, Chris stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Mary feeling as if she had received a stay of execution for the time being.

"Well," she said quietly to herself. "At least he didn’t take it badly."

***********

There were a thousand places Chris Larabee would prefer to be at right now. He was even willing to be in that illegal prison where he was held captive and called Inmate 78 again, if he could avoid being at the head of this table, facing his father over a meal for the first time in almost 21 years. The General was in uniform, much to the delight of his new grandson who fired away question after question at him in blissful ignorance of the awkward mood. The General answered the young boy with warmth despite the icy reception he received from the child’s stepfather.

Chris and Mary hardly exchanged words, but Mary could tell he was furious by the smouldering glare he aimed in her direction and knew the only reason he wasn't yelling was that they had company. Whether or not, the general noticed the discourse between husband and wife was unknown to her for he did not make mention of it. Finally, Mary tired of the silence and decided she was not going to make her guest feel unwelcomed just because her husband was behaving with less maturity than her eight-year-old son.

"So tell me, General," Mary said in between bites of her meal. "What exactly do you do for the army?"

Larabee noticed the animosity between his son and his wife. Judging by the look on Chris’s face which he knew from years of experience to be the usual mask worn by his son when sulking, he assumed she had not told Chris about his arrival until he appeared on their doorstep. Still, she was trying so hard to make the evening move smoothly, and he would not make it any more difficult by provoking his son’s seething temper.

"Military intelligence," Larabee answered.

"That sounds dangerous." Mary declared although she could well believe he was able to fade into the background whenever he liked. He had once of those faces capable of being many things when it needed to be.

"It can be," Larabee answered. "During the war, I spent a great deal of time behind enemy lines, gathering information on Confederate troop deployment. These days, I merely oversee threats to the internal security of the nation, keeping an eye on groups like the Ku Klux Klan and smaller militant cells that have sprung up since the war."

"Yes," Mary nodded, remembering just how prolific the Klan could be when its members were adequately motivated. "We had an unfortunate case of that some months ago."

"They come and go." The General placed his fork down. "It was much easier in the old days when we knew who the enemy was. Now they could be anyone. They’re in our towns, riding down our streets and unfortunately in our schools. In Indiana, you have leftover abolitionists who don’t believe our present policies toward the coloureds are much better from when they were in slavery. Allison Bradley married one of them." Larabee glanced briefly at Chris. "You remember Allison don’t you?"

Chris shrugged, remembering the young woman well and narrowing his eyes as he glared at his father for bringing her up. "I remember."

"After you didn’t come back from the Point, she married a school teacher. He was into the movement heavily. It ended badly." Larabee continued, digging into a succulent morsel of food as he waited for Chris to answer, almost daring him to respond in an unspoken challenge.

"I had my reasons," Chris said quietly, aware they were inching slowly towards the reason at the heart of their 21-year separation, and he was fighting the journey there every step of the way. It was taking every inch of control he possessed not to leave the room. Nevertheless, Chris's conditioning to behave in front of his father was too difficult to break, even as a grown man in his own home.

"I’m sure you did," Larabee remarked shortly, not wishing to have their confrontation in front of the child who was somewhat confused by his elders’ behaviour. "Madeleine retired to Virginia a few years ago."

"Madeleine?" Mary asked quizzically, trying to steer past the moment to smoother waters.

"Yes, she was our housekeeper since Brigid passed on. She more or less helped me raise Chris after his mother died."

Mary glanced instinctively at Chris, not even knowing that much about her husband and felt somewhat incensed at being kept in the dark. Chris showed no reaction to that revelation, but his Adam’s apple bobbed, so Mary knew he was uncomfortable about having that bit of news reach her, especially when he never brought it up with her in all the time they were married. 

"When did she pass away?" Mary could not help but ask.

"When I was eight," Chris answered before the general could answer. "My mother died when I was eight."

"I’m sorry," she said softly both to Chris and to his father. "She must have been very young."

"She was," Larabee’s response was quiet, and even though he wore the same damnable impassive mask on his face that Chris did, Mary saw enough reaction to know the general still missed his wife dearly reached for his hand before she even knew what she was doing.

"Thank you." He offered her a warm smile, touched by her empathy. The General decided he liked his daughter in law very much, even if her husband needed taking behind the woodshed right now. 

Chris also saw the sadness in his father’s eyes, something he never noticed when he was a youth or was too young to understand. His memories of his mother were vague after so many years, but he did remember his father adored Brigid Larabee. For the first time since General Marcus Larabee made his reappearance in his life, Chris understood his father. Perhaps enough to decide he might take the olive branch extended towards him. After all, the man had come here and not brought up the situation in West Point or demanded an explanation from him for his behaviour, when it was well within his rights to do so.

"How come you didn’t become a soldier too Chris?" Billy asked and suddenly all the rules went straight out the window with that one question.

Chris did not know what to say even though the question sliced through all his thoughts. He looked at his young son, whose eyes were filled with curiosity, oblivious to the turmoil caused by that one question. 

"It just didn’t work out." Chris stammered, searching for a better explanation than that and cursing under his breath when none was forthcoming.

 "Why not?" Billy probed further, no idea of the discomfort he was causing.

Mary, on the other hand, was well aware of it and moved quickly to intercede because she sensed they were nearing a subject that was not at all wise to approach if she wanted the rest of the evening to continue without confrontation. "Billy, it’s not polite to be so nosy." She said gently, sparring Chris the need to answer the question.

"I'm not nosy…." Billy whined a little, noticing from the tone of his mother’s voice, there was a hint of reproach in it.

"Actually Christopher did very well at the Academy."

"You mean West Point?" Mary exclaimed, unable to keep the shock from her voice that the General was talking about that prestigious institution.

"Yes," Larabee glanced at Chris, not hiding his distaste at Chris, hiding so much from his new family. "Christopher attended West Point for three years."

"What’s West Point?" 

"It’s a school," Chris answered Billy sharply. "We don’t need to talk about this."

"I think it’s about time you talked about something," Larabee felt his own anger provoked by his son's belligerent attitude. "It doesn’t look like you’re telling anybody anything? Are you ashamed of where you come from?" The general demanded. His voice never rose an octave, there was no doubt he was upset. 

"I ain’t ashamed of anything." Chris bit back. "It ain’t no one’s business but my own."

"Not when it affects everyone around you." Larabee returned. "After 21 years, I think I deserve an explanation."

"Maybe this isn’t the best time…." Mary started to say.

"Stay out of this!" Chris fairly roared at her and immediately saw the hurt in her eyes in the aftermath.

"Don’t yell at her because you’re not adult enough to face the problem." The general came quickly to her defence.

"Please, don’t." She implored them both to remain calm. But it had gone past that, and she knew it. Even Billy was shrinking into his chair, fear in his face as the discussion turned ugly. He did not like to see Chris and his ma fighting.

"I apologise," the general reined in his temper and rose from his chair. "I’ll be going."

"General," Mary implored, "Please don't leave." 

"Let it be," Chris ordered, not looking at her as he stared at his father with years of frustration and anger hidden under the surface of his eyes.

"Let it be?" Mary whirled around and stared at him. "Chris," she paused a moment catching her breath to give her opinion on this entire situation. "You know just about everything in my life! I have held nothing back from you because that is what being married is about. Sharing. However, I have found out more about you in the last ten minutes than I have had in a lifetime and frankly, I am appalled!"

"Mary…." Chris started to see there was more than just hurt in her eyes over his harsh words but something than ran deeper, something in danger of weakening the trust between them.

"Don’t Mary me! What else haven’t you told me?"

"Mary, this isn’t the time to discuss it." Chris tried to get the upper hand by exerting some control over the situation, but Mary would have none of it.

"When will it be time to discuss it?" She demanded, her own anger flaring out of control. "The next time you have a long lost relation show up?" She stood up from the table and flung her napkin at him before storming away from the table, leaving everyone speechless for a few seconds.

"May I be excused?" Billy spoke up meekly after a while, having finally summoned the courage to speak. The boy looked clearly disturbed by what just transpired between his parents, and Chris was similarly dismayed the boy had witnessed the entire scene.

"Sure." Chris sighed and felt his heart sink at how quickly Billy moved to get away from him. He supposed after what the poor child had been forced to sit through, Chris could hardly blame the child for wishing to be well out of the line of fire. Once Billy had gone, Chris found himself facing the general alone and as much as he wanted to blame the man for alienating Mary and causing his son to flee from the table, Chris knew it was not his father’s fault.

"I could use a drink," he looked at his father across the table. 

"Saloon?" His father looked back him with a smile.

Chris nodded. "Saloon." 

After all, he was his father’s son.

***********

When they entered the Standish Tavern together, Chris was glad none of the seven was present. They were scattered all over the place, busy with the protection of the nitro, and guarding of prisoners. Chris himself planned to go to the jailhouse after dinner and relieve Josiah who needed some rest after playing warden all day. Vin was no doubt visiting Alex while at the same time, catching up with some rest himself after their trip to Purgatory. The rest would be guarding the nitro at Nettie’s place and no doubt enjoying the widow’s hospitality at the same time.

Even though the mood between the two men was still tense, Chris had come to the begrudging realisation he had to have it out with his father, or at least go some way to explaining his actions. It was apparent the general wanted to know what had happened to justify his son disappearing for the last twenty years. Especially when he did nothing to warrant such desertion. The general never spoke about his feelings, and Chris’s childhood following his mother’s death was spent trying to understand what was taking place beneath his father’s battle-hardened exterior.

The tavern was busy at this time of night, so they found themselves a table in a secluded corner of the room. Rain, who was on permanent duty bartending most evenings, quickly served them their drinks aware of the situation between father and son and hid her pleasure at seeing them finally sitting down to talk. Rain had strong opinions when it came to kinfolk, and she firmly believed there was no reason in the world why a family should not resolve its differences.

Once the young lady was gone, Chris found there was no longer any reason to remain silent on the past if they wanted to look towards the future He took a sip of his beer and savoured the drink a moment, perfectly aware his father was watching him with steely eyes.

"I think I’ll be sleeping in the spare room again." Chris sighed.

"I’d say so." His father managed an amused expression. "She’s a fiery woman."

"You don’t know the half of it." Chris eased back into his chair, unable to meet his father’s gaze because the moment of truth had finally arrived, and he could not bring himself to that yet until the words had finally escaped him.

"I like her," Larabee remarked and honestly meant it. "That’s a nice family you got there, Christopher."

To that, at least, Chris could not disagree. "Thanks."

"I would have liked to have met your first." He added and forced Chris’s eyes to meet his.

"I don’t want to talk about them," Chris said quietly, "I can't, not yet." 

It was true. No matter how much time had passed, it was still difficult to think Sarah and Adam without feeling the black well of grief threatening to overwhelm him. There were too many memories, too many ugly things burned into his mind, the day he found them. Charred bodies and ash on his skin that might have been pieces of them, soiled all his other recollections of them. He could not speak of Sarah and Adam, not to his father who could see through him with more ease than anyone in the world. The pain was too raw.

"Okay," Larabee nodded in understanding, aware of how they died and was able to see the anguish in Chris’s eyes at the very mention of them, he was not ready to talk about that subject.

"I’m sorry you never got to know them," Chris managed to say that much at least. "It was wrong to shut you out when it wasn’t your fault what happened."

"You want to tell me what did happen?" The General inquired, unaware he was holding his breath. He waited for so long to ask that question. How many nights had he lain awake, trying to decide whether or not it was worth tracking down his son just to shake the answer out of him? Unfortunately, Chris's stubborn pride was an inherited flaw, and Larabee could not deny he was similarly afflicted, and it had kept him from making that all-important first step.

"We were out for the weekend." Chris began, revisiting memories he had not wanted to think about for so long because of the marks it left in its wake and the ramifications following him for that one mistake. A mistake he was not even sure was he was guilty, to begin with. "There was this saloon not far from our billets, and we went there sometime. It was me and a few others."

The General knew something of the events Chris was describing because of the report he received from the Academy after Chris left. "This is where the girl died?"

"Yeah." Chris looked up and after a moment, decided it was no real surprise to him that the general knew. "She was nothing, just a barmaid, you know. She wasn’t even a saloon girl. Her name was Karen, I think."

Chris needed another sip of his beer when he brought Karen’s image to his mind. She was beautiful but not extraordinary. She had red ribbons in her dark hair, and she looked far more attractive than any of the worn saloon girls. "All us cadets thought she was really something."

"What happened?"

"I was with some of the others." Chris still refused to name the men who had been with him, aware now it was all over and Karen dead and buried. Such revelations would serve no one, twenty-one years after the fact. "We were leaving the saloon for the evening when we saw Karen heading home. I wanted to get back to barracks, but the others thought it might be fun to talk to her. I didn’t think much of it at the time because it seemed harmless at the time."

"Was it?" Larabee asked, his voice tightening because it always started out that way, the dirty sordid crimes that found their origins in the word harmless.

"No," Chris swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat as the story shifted into its next phase. "It started becoming more, and by the time she got home, she was practically running for her life. I tried to stop them, but the others were drunk and mean. Karen lived alone, so they broke into her house and raped her. All five of them."

Larabee’s stomach hollowed, seeing the intense pain in Chris’s eyes as he relived the moment in his mind’s eye. Every scream and pathetic plea to stop was burned into Chris’s memory. Years later, when Buck Wilmington’s Alice fell prey to the same horror, Chris made it his personal mission to bring Damien Westbrook to justice because he had failed to do so for Karen.

"I did try to do something, but they turned on me, and by the time they were finished with me, I was in no condition to help her. I still hear her in my dreams sometimes though," Chris held his mug to his mouth and took a deep swallow because his throat felt dry. "I still can’t stand the sight of red ribbons. Sarah wore them once, and I had to tell her to take it off cause it made me so sick."

Larabee knew Chris made allegations implicating his fellow cadets in the death of the girl named Karen Cassidy who was found murdered and raped in her home. The five accused naturally provided each other’s alibis, so it came down to Chris’s word against them. The conspirators were unwilling to let one man or their conscience, stand in the way of a military career and so they held firm in the lie. With no corroborating evidence to prove otherwise and the beating he received at their hands ample proof of a vendetta, Chris had been dishonourably discharged. Ironically, for conduct unbecoming a cadet of West Point Academy.

"Why didn’t you just come home?" Larabee asked. "I would have believed you."

"You were so proud of me being in Academy," Chris answered, thinking now how ludicrous his reasoning had been. "I just didn’t know how to face you and tell you I had failed."

"The Academy was not my wish for you." His father sighed, wondering how so much misconception could have been engendered from two people who had shared the same roof for so long. "Sure, I was proud you wanted to be a soldier. There isn’t a father in this world that’s not proud of a son who wants to follow in his footsteps, but I always thought it was what you wanted."

"I was no soldier," Chris said, feeling even worse now having to hear that. His father was always so hard to read, Chris had to rely on signals because he wanted to be strong and resolute like Marcus Larabee. The General never showed he was hurt. He kept it inside, hidden away so he was the only one who could suffer his pain. Chris tried to be that way and knew to a certain extent, he succeeded, except pain like that needed to be expressed. Otherwise, it ate away at you, a bit at a time. Chris had learnt that too late. "I liked the Academy well enough, but I knew I was no good at it."

"Your instructors thought you were extremely promising," Larabee revealed, concealing that the reports he received from Chris’s teachers in those days spoke of a cadet who had great potential. Larabee had known it before Chris went to the Academy because his son was always logical and calm under pressure. He could imagine Chris keeping his head during the tragic circumstances leading to his discharge, he was even proud the boy was willing to risk it all to see justice had done.

"I could do it if I needed to," Chris admitted. "Soldiering that is but after the war, I was sure I didn’t want to do it forever." He let out another deep sigh knowing he had digressed and then continued. "When I got kicked out, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t’ face you, and I was angry at the ruth being hidden, and a girl had died, and I wasn't able to stop it. A hundred things were running through my head, none of it made sense, but I knew was that I couldn’t go home. I wandered a bit, and then the war broke out, and I signed up in the infantry."

"I know," Larabee nodded. "I tried to keep track of you." He confessed to that much, not wanting the boy to think he had not made any effort to find him during those years. "I knew you were promoted to Lieutenant and then Captain. I half expected you to come home once the war was over, but you didn’t."

"Buck and I got to be friends," Chris replied, knowing the truth lay with his shame at how he behaved and after six years away, it had become even worse, and Chris abandoned the idea altogether. "We wanted to ranch horses, so that’s what we did."

"And after the fire?"

"After the fire, there was nothing."

Chris blinked slowly and needed a few seconds before he could answer. "When I found them both, I was ready to die with them, and I looked long and hard to make that happen, but for some reason, I was still standing. I wanted to die so bad I could taste it. Then one day I rode into this town, expecting it to be no different than the last place I’d been. I was looking for a saloon when I ran into Vin, and suddenly I had friends, men who would stand by me no matter. It felt good and then in the middle of all that, there was Mary. She made me think about the future, reminded me I wasn't as dead inside as I thought I was." 

"Some women can do that," Larabee admitted with a little smile. "Your mother was like that." 

Chris saw once again, the sadness that came with a husband still grieving for his wife and realised he and Marcus Larabee had more in common than they knew. Perhaps, it was enough for them to bridge the gap between them. 

After twenty-one years, Chris decided it was time to try.

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