Buck swaggered into the saloon as evening settled on the unusually calm town. For a dollar a day plus room and board, Buck and his new friends had taken Four Corners under their wing. In nine days, things had changed. Word had spread and rowdy trail herds were intentionally giving Four Corners a wide berth.

Several residents greeted the peacekeeper warmly as he weaved his way across the noisy room.

“Buck,” Vin greeted, pouring his friend a drink. Chris and Ezra nodded welcomes.

Wilmington grunted as he sank into the chair beside Ezra. The wound across his chest, courtesy of Colonel William Riley Anderson, was healing well, but still pinched. “Thanks. Seen Josiah and Nathan?”

Vin inclined his head. The others spotted Nathan making his way toward them, Josiah’s arm over his shoulder. Sanchez’s leg had become infected and so movement was only possible with assistance.

“Boys,” Chris greeted, dragging a chair back for Josiah.

“Any trouble?” Buck asked. His speech was a little slurred from the beer he’d consumed earlier – both lubrication for a successful afternoon’s activities, and relief from the dull ache across his chest.

“Been quieter than a dead man’s grave,” Vin muttered, draining his glass and pulling his hat onto his head.

“Too quiet,” Chris agreed, pouring himself another drink.

“You certainly know how to turn a phrase, Mr. Tanner,” Ezra chuckled, shuffling the cards with more dexterity than was natural. “Can I interest any of you in a game of poker?” .

“Not me. I’m done,” Vin stated in his quiet, deadpan voice. He rose, nodded to his companions and left.

“Is Vin worrying on something?” Buck asked, studying his companion as he exited.

Chris shrugged, watching Vin. “Vin has a lot on his mind.”

“The unusual phenomena each night, perhaps?” Ezra murmured.

“The mists?” Josiah asked. He’d never seen mists like them, but he’d heard about them. The Indians had several names and reasons to explain them, all connected to their ancestors. Josiah was certain of one thing -- the mists hid dangers.

*********

J.D. passed Vin as the tracker entered the boarding house. “Kid.”

“Where are the others?”

“Saloon. Mist’s rolling in. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Dunne nodded curiously at Vin’s warning. “Just a bit of fog. Used to get a lot of it in Boston.”

“This ain’t Boston,” Tanner murmured. He tipped this hat and started up the stairs.

“Night, Vin.” J.D. pursed his lips. If Vin Tanner was warning him to stay alert, Dunne knew there was a good reason. J.D. stepped outside, studying the thin fog. Over the next half hour, it would become thicker.

J.D. shrugged and headed for the drinking house. He’d just returned from a two day ride to Josephville to collect some papers for the Judge. With Lucas still in jail awaiting his scheduled hanging at the end of the week, Chris wanted as many of the boys in town as possible, so J.D. had ridden alone.

*********

As J.D. approached his partners, he heard Buck comment, “… and it’s happened to me more than once.”

“Boys,” J.D. greeted. “Everything went well.”

The others nodded.

“Just appeared out of nowhere… and disappeared again,” Buck continued softly, staring into his empty glass.

“What did?” J.D. asked, pouring himself a drink.

“No sound.” Buck shivered. “Eerie. Scared the living shit out of me.”

Chris grunted, Josiah and Nathan shook their heads and Ezra returned to his cards.

J.D. tossed back a shot. “What was eerie? That mist each night? Vin just warned me about it. Anyone know why?”

“Ghost,” Buck murmured.

“Ain’t no such things as ghosts, Buck,” J.D. laughed. “They’re just stories in books. You must have been drinking too much if you’ve been seeing ghosts.”

“Encountered it more than once,” Buck claimed solemnly.

J.D. shook his head and said to the others, “Did he hit his head while I was away?”

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss the unknown, son. Ghosts -- spirits of the dead. There are many beliefs about such things.”

“Oh, come on, Josiah. You aren’t saying that you…?” J.D. paused, wilting under the ex-preacher’s intense expression. Dunne re-focused on Buck, whose mouth was drawn down too far for this to be entirely fiction.

“I know I’m not the only one who’s…” his voice faded out. “I was discussing it with Nathan and Josiah only yesterday.”

Josiah nodded.

J.D. surveyed the faces of his older colleagues. Most where staring silently at their cards. The fact they weren’t disputing Buck’s claims left J.D. reassessing his earlier judgment. “Ghost? Is that what Vin meant when he said I should…?”

Wilmington tuned his cards face down on the table and exhaled slowly. “Happened for the first time a couple of nights after we signed on.”

The other men looked at him.

“What happened?” J.D. asked.

Buck exited the saloon and yawned, his lanky frame slightly hunched. He grimaced, rubbing his hand across his chest. Nathan had warned him to take it easy, but it was difficult when ‘entertaining’ young ladies.

Wilmington eyed the darkness falling in pools between the small fires dotting the perimeter. Again, an unusual mist was rolling into town – thick and impenetrable. It had done so every night for the past week. There was something disconcerting about it.

Buck frowned, pulling his jacket around himself. The mist was always accompanied by a marked drop in temperature.

With a shiver, Buck stepped off the board walk, reflecting on his ‘rewarding’ day. Miss Hannah had been all he’d hoped, though her brother, Shaun O’Malley, had sent word he’d ‘deal’ with Buck if he laid a hand on Hannah. Unfortunately, the Irish immigrant’s warning hadn’t arrived until after Buck and Hannah had ‘enjoyed’ themselves.

O’Malley was known in the area for his loud mouth and forceful ways, but Buck didn’t expect trouble. After all, Hannah was old enough to make her own decisions, and with what Buck and his friends had done in the past week, O’Malley was unlikely to ‘cross’ him.

Buck strolled down the dim street, rubbing his arms in the unearthly chill. His thoughts shifted to Miss Annabelle, whom he hoped to spend some time with the next day.

As Buck made his way to his lodgings, he sensed… something. Goose bumps prickled his flesh and ran up and down his spine. He paused, resting his hand on his revolver. Cautiously, he surveyed the darkened buildings through the swirling mist. There was no sign of life, but the feeling of being watched was almost overpowering.

Buck took another few steps, his boots echoing in the silence. He sensed, rather than saw movement. There was a shadowy outline in the alley beside Potter’s store. Buck squinted, but the figure melted into the darkness noiselessly.

Nothing Buck knew of could move like that. He blinked, uncertain if he’d imagined it. Unnerved, he hot-footed it toward the boarding house, still looking back over his shoulder.

Abruptly, a group of men loomed in front of him, Buck almost colliding with them in his haste. With a cry of surprise, he drew his gun, his fist trembling.

“Buck Wilmington?” one of the trio demanded in a thick Irish accent.

“O’Malley?” Buck asked, peering through the fog, his voice echoing unfathomable relief. “Damn near scared ten years off my life,” Buck chuckled, lowering his gun.

“I warned you,” O’Malley claimed.

Buck held up his hand for calm, the smile slipping from his handsome features. “Ease down there, pard. Hannah is a delicate flower. She and I simply…”

O’Malley and his companions raised their rifles. Buck licked his lips, his eyes darting to the boarding house where Chris and the others had retired a few minutes earlier. He was outgunned and recognized O’Malley hadn’t ridden into town to ‘chat’.

“Hannah is a good Catholic. No one touches her and lives to tell the tale,” O’Malley snarled.

Buck knew his only hope was to talk his way out of this. While he could take two, out-shooting three men was beyond his skill.

“O’Malley, Hannah and I…”

The Irishman’s eyes drifted to the right, stopping at a point over Buck’s shoulder. His face paled, his eyes widening. The men on either side of him shared identical looks of terror.

Buck swallowed, experiencing the same tingling sensation he had earlier. He suppressed the urge to turn and investigate -- uncertain if the danger lurking behind was better or worse than the threat facing him.

“Before I could say anything, O’Malley and his friends ran. There was real fear in their eyes. By the time I turned around, there wasn’t anything… noting but darkness and moving shadows. Scared the shit out of O’Malley,” Buck finished.

Ezra snorted softly. Chris exchanged a smirk with Nathan while Josiah pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“So you reckon they saw a ghost?” J.D. whispered.

Buck settled his gaze across the table. “Unnerving. Didn’t make any sound. Simply ‘disappeared’ by the time I turned around. Just melted into the night.”

J.D.’s head wagged from side to side in amazement. “It just appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared again?”

“Yep. Unnerving.” Buck drained his glass. “Ain't never seen anything like it.”

Nathan sighed and admitted, “Same thing happened to me.”

“What? Really?” J.D. prompted, now eager to find out more.

“As I told Buck yesterday, it was three days back when that trail herd rode in after dark and robbed Potter’s Store.”

“After the mists rolled in?” J.D. asked.

Nathan cursed passionately. The four men were badly wounded. Experience taught him to prioritize. The cowboy with the moustache could wait. He was in a lot of pain, but that couldn’t be helped. The one in the green shirt was unconscious, but Nathan had already stopped the bleeding, thus he too, could wait. The one with the beard and the one in the red shirt were critical, both gushing blood. But Nathan only had one set of hands -- there was only time to save one.

Three of Jackson’s fellow peacekeepers had ridden after the escaping men who’d robbed Potter’s Store. The other three were rounding up those left behind, which meant Nathan was on his own.

The healer lit the lamp in the clinic, speaking to his only conscious patient. “I need your help. Do you think you can give me a hand?”

The cowboy, who was seated on the ground where Vin and J.D. had dumped him, continued to roll from side to side wailing. Nathan decided the answer was a definite ‘no’.

Nathan washed his hands quickly and when he turned back, he was faced with a decision he’d seen doctors make during the war. Who would he save? With another curse, he moved to the bearded man and set to work.

The healer worked as swiftly as possible, calling out assurances to the wounded man on the floor. Before long, the man became still as pain stole his consciousness.

The silence was welcome. Jackson bound the injury he was working on. He spun toward the cowboy in the red shirt, knowing it would be too late but…

“When I turned around his wound had been tied off.” Nathan shook his head. “Didn’t hear anything… didn’t see a thing, but I sensed I wasn’t alone… that there’d been someone there.”

“The ghost?” J.D. clarified. “You think the ghost…? You think Four Corners is haunted? Because of that mist?”

“Nothing normal can move like that, Kid. Without any noise,” Buck repeated.

Chris snorted, shaking his head. He pushed his chair back. “Night, boys.”

The group watched the man in black leave. “Chris has too,” Buck whispered. “Seen it.”

“You’re kidding. What did he say?” J.D. pressed.

“You know Chris. He don’t say much,” Buck murmured.

“I’ve had the same humbling experience,” Josiah murmured.

J.D.’s eyes widened. “Go on, Josiah.”

Josiah lifted his injured leg onto the chair and grumbled. Nathan had told him to keep an eye on it and he’d failed to do so. Now he was paying the price. Thankfully, the healer had drained the wound and it was improving… but it ached like hell’s furnace.

The temperature in the church plummeted as the night mists moved in. Josiah, seated at a small table to the right of the altar, drew a blanket around himself and opened his Bible. His stomach was growling. While Nathan had offered to prepare something for him, he’d claimed he could do it himself, despite movement being difficult. He was tired of broth and felt like some decent meat to sink his teeth into. Unfortunately, he hadn’t got to the store or been able to go out and shoot anything himself, so meat would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, he’d have to be satisfied with some bread and fruit.

His mind drifted briefly to the curse the old gypsy had muttered as he passed through town a few days earlier. As the old timer had been tossed out of the saloon, he’d roared at the top of his lungs, “those who see fit to judge me will stare the spirit of death in the face.”

Sanchez smiled. He’d been staring the spirit of death in the face for years. After a few minutes, Josiah became engrossed in his reading.

As the clock ticked passed eight, he was overcome by the strangest feeling… like he wasn’t alone. There was a breath of breeze. Josiah lifted his gaze from his Bible and stared down the aisle to the door. The heavy wooden door was closed, but there was mist swirling just inside… as if the door had just been opened.

Sanchez frowned, shifting his gaze around the empty room -- searching every corner of the church. Shadows danced around his lit candle, but there was no sign of life. Josiah’s eyes narrowed, and his nose twitched.

He reached for the revolver, lying next to his Bible. Swiveling in his chair, Josiah lowered his injured leg to the ground with a grunt.

“Is someone there?”

All was still and silent. Slowly, Josiah rose, lifting his weight on his good leg. He swept the church a second time and stopped when his eyes reached the front, only a few feet from him. On the ground before the altar was a freshly skinned rabbit.

“A sacrifice!” J.D. cried, his face tightening. “I’ve heard gypsies sacrifice things to make spells.”

Josiah pursed his lips. “I had it for my supper. Don’t know how it got there without me seeing anything. The altar was only six feet behind me and anyone entering the church needed walked right passed me. Didn’t hear anyone come in or out.”

Ezra’s face creased with amusement. “While I find this conversation enchanting, I am weary and so bid you good night.” He pocketed his cards and rose.

“Ezra, have you see it?” J.D. asked.

Ezra eyed the boy, winked and moved toward the door.

“So you think this ghost may have been summoned by that old guy? Do you think it really is the face of death?”

“Amazing,” Nathan reflected, oblivious to J.D.’s question. “You didn’t hear or see anything either, Josiah?”

“Nope.”

“Just a strange sense I was being watched,” Buck murmured, standing.

Nathan assisted Josiah to his feet.

“No. Wait. I… can you tell me anything else?” J.D. insisted.

“Don’t worry, Kid. Sooner or later, it’ll happen to you, too.”

*********

Ezra checked the street in both directions before starting along the board walk. He’d won a generous pot earlier in the day and the two men concerned had the audacity to accuse him of cheating. Fortunately, several of his companions had been present to back him up. Unfortunately, the Roster brothers were the type to attempt re-appropriation, hence Ezra’s caution.

Standish shivered, noting the mist blanketing the town. The gambler moved swiftly, eying the darkness for signs of the disgruntled losers.

“Hey, Ezra?” Ezra jumped, pressing his lips together to control his response. He paused and waited for J.D. to catch up. “You bellowed, Mr. Dunne?”

“You reckon there’s anything in this ghost stuff? I mean Buck telling stories ain’t new, but Josiah and Nathan seemed serious. What do you think?”

Ezra wrapped his arms around himself. “I think it is late and freezing. Shall we continue this conversation tomorrow morning when the sun has performed its duty and warmed our charming town?”

J.D. drew his coat around himself and began to move from foot to foot. “Yeah. Damn, it’s cold. It’s that mist. Ghostly mist. You think it might have something to do with it?”

“Tomorrow,” Ezra dismissed, shivering.

“Night, Ezra.”

Ezra tipped his hat and watched the younger man dart across the street and disappear into the boarding house. Standish’s face creased with thought. He couldn’t remember when he’d enjoyed such innocence.

Muffled sounds of footsteps approached from the alley behind him. He spun and instinctively drew his weapon, making out three shadowed figures – two close and one further back.

“Move and it will be the last thing you do.” A familiar Texas growl. “Drop them.”

Two revolvers clattered to the ground.

“Move.” The two men, who’d been about to attack Ezra, stumbled out of the darkness.

Ezra took a step back, recognizing them immediately. “Gentlemen, you ignored my kind advice. I assured you returning to collect your money would be hazardous and result in you meeting grief. This,” he added, inclining his head to Vin as Tanner stepped out of the alley, “is Grief.”

“Go on, git” Vin repeated, shoving one of the men in the back. “You got one minute to find your horse and ride out of here.” Tanner bolstered the threat by raising his mare’s leg across his chest. His eyes darkened. There was no doubt he was prepared to use the shot gun.

The disgruntled card players shot toward the livery without looking back. Tanner and his mare’s leg could strike fear into the heart of the bravest man.

The quiet Texan shook his head. “Ezra?”

“Yes, Mr. Tanner.”

“Try not to win so much.”

Ezra smiled. “It isn’t in my nature to lose.”

Vin gave his friend a narrow-eyed stare, but his lips split into a grin.

Moments later, two horses exploded out of the livery. Vin lowered his shot gun, tipped his hat and set off down the middle of the street.

The mist swirled around him.

Buck, Josiah and Nathan were right.

There wasn’t the slightest sound. Vin Tanner always seemed to be on hand when needed. His ability to appear out of nowhere and disappear the same way was uncanny.

Ezra smiled in admiration as the buckskin clad ghost of Four Corners, melted back into the night.