As Chris intervened, separating the leaders of each camp, one of the other trouble makers pulled back his fist and was about to let fly at Larabee’s unprotected head, when there was a shot from behind him. Everyone froze.

Vin Tanner lowered his rifle. "You heard the man, break it up." The fervent group eyed the rifle wielding peacekeeper critically and reluctantly relaxed their stances. Tanner looked like he was more than prepared to gun them down.

"Okay, all of you, move on," Chris ordered, shoving the leaders in opposite directions. Vin stood stock still, his eyes roving the cowhands carefully - his weapon paused and ready. Finally, his intense gaze settled on the coward who had been about to strike Chris from behind. If there was anything that made Vin’s blood boil, it was a coward.

Slowly the mob dispersed, all watching Tanner and the five other newcomers who had appeared behind him, each with their weapons drawn in overt support.

"What happened?" Buck asked, holstering his gun and staring after the disgruntled rabble that were heading back into the saloon.

Larabee shrugged. "Damned if I know. Something to do with some shooting competition that’s on later today. Anyone know anything about it?"

"Perhaps I may be able shed some light on the situation," Ezra offered. All of the men turned to face the well-dressed Southern gentleman who was smiling amiably.

"Now why doesn’t that surprise me," Chris muttered.

"It would appear that every year Four Corners has a shooting competition and today is the day it is held. Now, I was wondering if any of you would be interested in entering?" Ezra asked, his eyes flashing with avaricious merriment as he took out a notebook. "I can enter you right now if you like. Anyone? How about you Mr. Dunne?"

Buck snatched the book from Ezra’s manicured hands and danced sideways out of the smaller man’s grasping reach. "Hell, there are almost twenty names on this list."

"Yes, that is correct, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra announced, finally retrieving his book. "It costs $5 to enter and thus far first prize is $90."

"Wow!" J.D. cried.

"Considering how accurate you are, Mr. Larabee, I feel that it may be a well invested five dollars. What do you say?"

"And where do you fit into this, Ezra?" Josiah asked suspiciously.

"I?" Ezra lamented indignantly. "I merely offered to collect the entries."

"Why?" Nathan asked. "I don’t get the feeling that you ever do things out of the goodness of your heart."

From the other side of the street, Mary Travis studied the seven men who had successfully broken up the mob. She found herself smiling with a mixture of relief and surprise. Her father-in-law, the honorable Judge Orin Travis had hired Larabee and his men the day before. Their job was simply to keep peace in the town while the circuit judge was away. Travis had left on the stage that morning, apparently confident that these seven misfits could be trusted. They had certainly dealt with Stuart James efficiently, Mary couldn’t deny that, and their leader was a man who had a proven reputation for not being crossed. Of the others, however, the only one the local newspaperwoman really knew anything about was Nathan Jackson. A fine man who had given his time willingly to help the sick and injured in the town.

The men’s voices wafted across to Mary and she listened with interest to what such men would discuss.

"Mr. Jackson, I am mortally wounded by the implication that I would offer my assistance for purely selfish purposes. As we are now members of this fine community, I see it as our civic duty to become involved in their local celebrations thus endearing us to the population."

Nathan eyed the gambler suspiciously. He didn’t quite trust Ezra Standish. The Southerner had proven himself loyal at the Seminole village a week earlier, but the ex-slave found it difficult to believe that the smoothed tongued con man didn’t have an ulterior motive.

"So who have you got your money on, Ezra?" Vin asked quietly, the slightest of grins on his dusty face.

Standish looked shocked, but instantly recognized that denial would be senseless. "Well, Mr. Tanner, you are painfully intuitive I see." There was a knowing smile on Ezra’s face. Vin Tanner had proven to be a reserved man, but the gambler knew there was a great deal going on behind those thoughtful blue eyes. "It is true that I have in fact opened a book on the side, merely to stimulate further interest in this highly valued traditional event, you understand."

"And?" Buck pressed, knowing there was more.

"And," Ezra continued, "you will be pleased to know that, so far, the majority of Four Corner’s fine citizens have bet on our very own Mr. Larabee."

Chris’ right eyebrow rose. "But, Ezra, I haven’t entered."

"A mere formality. I took the liberty of adding your name to the list in anticipation of your entry."

"Did you now?" Chris murmured, turning and striding away. Vin Tanner fell into step beside Larabee. Nathan and Josiah shook their heads and returned to the church to continue with the repairs they had started earlier. Only Buck and J.D. remained to witness Ezra’s attempts to change Chris’s mind.

"He’s got about as much chance of convincing Chris to enter that competition as flyin’ in the air," Buck informed his companion happily.

"Mr. Larabee?" Ezra called, racing after the black clad gunfighter. "Mr. Larabee, may I accept your silence as an answer in the affirmative?"

"No."

"But, Sir, I have already taken numerous bets. You are..."

"No."

"I implore you. Perhaps we could discuss some monetary incentive?"

"No."

Ezra, who had been trotting behind Larabee and Tanner, now moved around in front of them forcing the pair to stop. "My friend, we are talking about a substantial amount of money here. A first prize of what could cultivate into $150 and considerably more depending on how much we choose to wager on you." Ezra raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ezra, I’m not interested."

"Why? You’re a certainty to win!" Ezra exclaimed. He could sense all that lovely money slowly slipping through his fingers.

"Standish, did you stop to consider what is going to happen if the local favorite doesn’t win? We’re going to have a riot on our hands and that means the seven of us are going to have to be ready."

"But you are the local favorite. Mr. Tanner help me out here. Surely a man of your good judgement can see that..."

"Sorry, Ezra. I agree with Chris."

Standish rolled his eyes. "Gentlemen, please." Vin and Chris stepped around the floundering gambler. "No, wait. Can’t we at least discuss this? Where are you going?"

"Saloon," came the deadpan reply.

Ezra stared after his gold mine as ‘he’ and Tanner made their way to the noisy building in the middle of town.

"I’ll enter, Ezra," J.D. sang, thrusting five dollars into the disheartened gambler’s fist.

"Marvellous," Ezra muttered without enthusiasm.

Before the resident con man could pocket the money, Buck snatched it from his hand. "What the hell do you think you’re doin’, boy?"

"I’m entering the shooting competition," J.D. stated, grabbing the money from Buck and passing it back to Ezra.

"Now, why would you want to do a fool thing like that?" Buck growled seizing the notes again. Standish’s eyes remained on the money that seemed to be playing its own game of pass the parcel.

"Because," J.D. cried, grabbing the money from the scoundrel and ramming it into Ezra’s hand for a third time, "I’m a pretty good shot and if Chris ain’t gonna enter then I reckon I’ve got a good chance of winning."

"You?" Buck roared, laughter exploding out of him as he plucked the five dollars from a stunned Ezra and shoved it into J.D.’s pocket. "In the first place, we’re new in town and we don’t want to be upsetting the locals by moving in and stealing their prize, or more importantly, the title that probably goes with it. In the second place, you’re the goddamn sheriff and if there’s trouble you ain’t gonna be any good to us if you’re the cause of it. And in the third place..."

"I get the picture, Buck," J.D. grumbled.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Wilmington. You have just destroyed any hope of us profiting out of this little venture."

"Any time, Ez," Buck stated, smiling at the gambler with true satisfaction.

"Lord, give me strength."

**********

"What do you think of Ezra?"

Josiah glanced up from his hammering. He and Nathan were perched on the top of the neglected church replacing tiles and repairing the gaping holes that had been inflicted by nature’s fury some years past. The dark skinned man continued working, trying to ignore the fact that his friend had paused and was studying him.

"What do I think of Ezra?" Josiah repeated. "Well, if you’re asking me what I think of him as a man who knows how to use a gun, then I suppose I’d have to say, we’re lucky he’s with us." Josiah watched as Nathan’s brow creased with thought.

"Yeah," Four Corner’s resident healer agreed quietly.

"’Course, if you’re askin’ me what I think of his character..." The preacher let the question hang. Nathan ceased hammering and glanced up at the huge man staring at him. He and Josiah had known each other less than three months, but Nathan considered the preacher one of his closest friends.

The ex-slave smiled sheepishly. "I guess that’s what I’m askin’."

Josiah nodded his understanding. It wasn’t all that surprising that Nathan felt a reluctance to trust Ezra. The gambler was a ‘Southern Boy’ who had initially refused to ride with the Seven because of Nathan’s presence... because, to put it in blatant terms, Nathan was a Negro. "Well, the Lord says that only He has the right to judge, but if you want my opinion, I think that Ezra is a better man than he wants to be."

Nathan stared at Josiah thoughtfully and then nodded. "He’s a pompous, self-centered, bigoted..."

"Yep, but you can’t help but like him."

Nathan grinned and then nodded his agreement.

"You can’t change a man’s belief’s over night, my friend. Ezra has been brought up in a culture that views things with very strict guidelines."

"Like the fact that black men aren’t worthy of the title, human being," Nathan growled with passion.

Josiah shrugged. "Perhaps. But he is a good man."

Nathan sighed and began fingering the nails in his hand. "I know."

"Of course, that don’t change the fact that he’s pompous, self-centered and bigoted." Both men smiled. Josiah picked up a tile and passed it to his friend. "He did come back, Nathan. That took guts. Probably more guts than Ezra knew he had. Every man deserves a second chance, especially from his friends."

Nathan Jackson reflected on the words. Yes, he did like Ezra and he wanted to trust his new friend, but as Josiah had pointed out, you can’t change a lifetime of beliefs over night. In that moment, Nathan realized that just as Ezra was bigoted toward him, his own prejudices were coloring his judgement of this "Southern Boy."

**********

"...and if one of us were to enter..." J.D. continued to talk at a million miles an hour. Buck however, had tuned the youth out some moments before. The tall scoundrel was carefully studying the two men seated on the porch of the saloon. Two very different individuals. One dressed completely in black and the other covered in a layer of trail dust.

Buck’s gut twisted as he watched Chris glance sideways at his companion, a grin spreading across Larabee’s usually dark face. Consciously the scoundrel kicked himself. Hell, Chris deserved to smile! After the hand life had dealt the hardened gunfighter, Chris Larabee deserved every bit of happiness that came his way and Buck was genuinely pleased - ecstatic - to see Chris happy, but that didn’t change the uncomfortable churning in Buck’s stomach. The scoundrel watched as Larabee’s companion raised an eyebrow and muttered something else. Chris’s grin matured into a full smile and Buck’s gut reacted again. He knew what was wrong and was surprised and ashamed by the feelings he felt, but he couldn’t seem to control them. Who the hell was this Vin Tanner anyway?

When Chris had asked Buck to join the crusade to save the Indian village he had assumed that Tanner and Larabee had been riding together for some time, but that wasn’t the case he had found out. Chris and Vin had only just met, so why did they sometimes act as if they had known each other all their lives? Why the hell were they so comfortable with each other?

Again, Buck mentally kicked himself. Who the hell was he to be interfering? He was just Larabee’s best friend! Or was he? He had been - before the fire that had stolen Chris’s wife and child. A fire that had effectively stolen both Chris’ soul and Buck’s friendship. After the fire, despite Buck’s attempts to comfort and console the man he had grown to love like a brother, Chris had pushed him away and so the two had parted company. That was three years ago. When Chris had sought him out and asked him to sign on to defend the Indian village, Buck had truly believed that everything he had hoped for was coming to fruition. Except he hadn’t counted on Vin Tanner.

"...so what do you think, Buck? You reckon it would work?... Buck?... Buck, you listening to me?"

Wilmington pulled his mind back to reality. "Sorry, Kid. What did you say?"

"I said..."

Buck flicked his eyes back to the two men seated on the porch. They had stopped talking and were simply sitting. How many times in the last week had Buck seen them do that? Just sit together. Not speak, just sit.

Again the burning jealousy rose up in the scoundrel’s stomach. When Chris had announced that he was going to leave and accompany Tanner to Tascosa, Buck had felt like he’d been physically punched in the chest. He had just assumed that he and Chris would begin riding together again. Hurt, angry and feeling sorry for himself, he had then turned down Chris’s request that he ride out to Stuart James’ ranch to retrieve James’ nephew who had escaped during his trial for murder. Let Vin mind Chris’s back! Of course, Buck hadn’t been able to do that and so he had ridden out to provide the back-up needed. And he had been needed - which had felt damn good.

Dammit! What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like some kid whose friend has decided to go and play with someone else for the day! The really annoying thing was, Buck liked Vin Tanner. Actually, he couldn’t help liking Vin. Tanner was quiet, thoughtful, dependable and he had a dry wit that tended to slip out at the most unexpected times. Despite wanting to, Buck found he couldn’t dislike Vin.

With reluctance, the scoundrel realized he was just going to have to come to terms with the fact that while he and Chris were friends - good friends, there was no question of that - he could no longer claim the title of being Larabee’s ‘best’ friend, or at least, not his only best friend.

Buck sighed. The loss of something he had longed for the return of for three years was painful, but at least he had lost it to someone worthy. Vin was a good man, but that didn’t make it any easier watching as Chris walked into the saloon and selected a seat next Tanner or steered his horse up to be beside Vin, or... well, Buck had already seen those things and it had hurt. It had hurt a lot. No, it wasn’t going to be easy, but Buck knew it was something he couldn’t, or shouldn’t fight. He cared for Chris and if Vin was able penetrate the solid barrier Chris had constructed to keep others out, then that was a good thing for anyone who had the privilege of calling Chris ‘friend’.

Feeling just a little more at ease with his own emotions, Buck glanced at J.D. whose mouth seemed to have a mind of it’s own.

"Whoa down there, boy. Now, slow down and start from the beginning."

"Again?" J.D. shook his head with disgust. "Look, all I’m saying is that I can’t see that it would hurt if one of us entered the competition. The rest of us would be free to watch for trouble."

Buck rolled his eyes. "You’ve been talkin’ to Ezra again, haven’t you?"

"Well, yeah. Ezra reckons that it would be good for our image if we... how did he put it? Interacted with the natives. And I think he’s right. One of us could..."

"No."

"But, Buck!"

"No."

**********

An hour later, Buck left J.D. in the sheriff’s office, the youth still disappointed that he or one of the others couldn’t enter the shooting competition.

The scoundrel glanced across at the chairs on the porch of the saloon only to find them empty. Sighing, the big man stepped down into the street and ambled along watching the citizens of Four Corners as they made preparations for the "Great Shoot Off" as the event was now being called, courtesy of one of Four Corners’s newest residents who had a flare for the dramatic. Ezra seemed to be in the thick of things Buck noted, watching the colorfully dressed man directing the actions of his ‘underlings’. How the gambler had weaseled his way out of the bets he had taken on Chris, Buck wasn’t sure.

"Buck." The mustached man almost jumped out of his skin. He spun around to find Vin standing right beside him.

"Will you quit doin’ that! Make some sort of announcement, for Christ’s sake. Hey, Buck don’t worry, it’s just me, Vin. The man that don’t make no damn sound and always scares you half to death when I appear out of nowhere!" Buck, along with the rest of his colleagues, had discovered that Tanner had the ability to move noiselessly. He just melted into the background.

Vin eyed Buck carefully waiting for the scoundrel to finish. "We need to talk," the tracker stated in his calm, soft voice. The same voice that Buck was certain could rip the skin off a rhinoceros.

"About what, Vin?" Buck Wilmington suddenly felt uncomfortable. He had snapped at Vin yesterday for no reason and the day before he’d been somewhat abrupt also. The young, quietly confident tracker hadn’t said anything either time, but Vin didn’t strike Buck as the sort of man who just accepted such treatment. "About what?" Buck repeated.

"About whatever it is that I’ve done that bothers you."

"Well, sneaking up on a man and scaring a year off his life is a start," Buck stated grinning. He hoped that that would be enough, but the look on Vin’s face told him it wasn’t. "Look, Vin. You ain’t done nothin’. It’s just me, okay. Sometimes I act like an asshole and..." Buck paused. He could see that Vin wasn’t accepting a bar of his lies.

"I need to know what’s wrong, Buck." Vin only ever used just enough words to get his point across. He never spoke for the sake of speaking.

"Yeah, okay. I reckon I owe you an apology for the way I’ve been actin’ in the last few days. Just put it down to stupidity, okay."

"Nope."

"Huh?" Buck asked genuinely confused.

"You’re a lot of things, Buck, but stupid ain’t one of them. You’re a man who only does things for a reason. So what’s wrong?"

Buck continued to stare at the serious face of his new friend. "Vin, I... look... it’s just..." Tanner waited. "Chris and I used to ride together. Then his wife and son were killed three years ago."

Vin nodded. "He told me."

Buck’s eyes widened with shock. Chris had told Vin. Hell, Chris had wanted to slit his throat when he’d told Mary Travis. ‘My past is mine,’ he had said. "Yeah, well we split up after that. I didn’t want to, but Chris was all knotted up inside and the more I tried to help the worse he got." Before Buck knew it, he was rambling. About how he and Chris used to play merry hell. How they used to get drunk together. How he’d been there when Adam was born. How he had worked on Chris’s ranch. Vin stood listening without comment. "And well, when Chris just appeared out of nowhere and asked if I’d help out with the Indian village, it felt real good to be riding with him again. I was hoping that things would go back to the way they were." Buck stopped and lowered his head. He realized he’d said too much.

"You and Larabee’ve been friends a long time?"

"Yeah, a real long time." Buck glanced up at Vin unsure if the tracker had been able to unjumble his ramblings and hit upon the fact that Buck was jealous. Jealous. What a damn sissy word!

Vin continued to stare at the scoundrel, his face serious and thoughtful. Finally he nodded and turned.

"Vin...I... I mean..." Tanner glanced back, tipped his hat and moved off. Buck could feel his face flushing red with embarrassment. Surely Vin hadn’t realized. Buck hadn’t actually said anything. He’s just talked a lot about what he and Chris used to do and that he was happy that he and Chris were riding together again. There was no way that Tanner would have realized what was at the bottom of Buck’s rantings and his unusual behavior. Relieved that he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself, Buck headed toward the saloon. There were a couple of young ladies that hung around there that he would like to get to know better.

***********