When Buck entered the saloon he eyed the rabble already assembled with cautious eyes. Surveying the room, he spotted Chris sitting alone at a table in the very back. From there the gunfighter had a clear view of the entire room. Buck walked up to the black clad enigma and sat down.

"Chris."

"Buck."

"Reckon they’ll cause any more trouble?" Buck asked, inclining his head toward the two opposing groups the regulators had separated earlier.

Chris shrugged. "Guess we’ll have to wait and see."

"J.D. still wants one of us to enter the damn competition."

Larabee nodded. "Yeah, I saw Ezra working on him earlier."

"He sure don’t give up easily," Buck muttered.

Chris smirked. "One of Ezra’s many endearing qualities." Buck smiled. Chris pushed his whisky bottle across to his friend.

"Don’t mind if I do," the scoundrel chirped, pouring himself a shot and glancing at Chris who was leaning back in the chair. "Been a long time since I’ve seen you this relaxed."

Larabee glanced at his old friend and nodded. "Reckon you’re right." The two fell silent. Again the slightest twinge of jealousy. Buck knew that Larabee’s comfortable mood was a direct result of his new friendship with Vin.

"If Vin had turned down the Judge and wanted to go to Tascosa, would you have gone with him?"

"Yes." No hesitation. The answer had come immediately.

"Why?"

Chris eyed Buck thoughtfully. "I don’t really know. Because I said I would." Again silence.

"You don’t know that much about him," Buck stated carefully. How much did any of them know about the earnest tracker who moved like a ghost?

"I know enough." Chris flicked his eyes to his old friend. He knew what Buck was doing. In his own way, the scoundrel was warning Chris to be careful. "I know I can trust him."

"Why?"

Chris took a deep breath. "I just know." He and Vin had exchanged a single glance and in that split second, Larabee had read Tanner’s soul - and he understood that the reciprocal had happened. There were times when the gunfighter looked at the mild young man in the buckskin coat and he felt like he was staring into a mirror. Vin’s easy-going nature and quiet voice hid an uncomfortable past and a fair share of painful memories. Vin had said little, but Larabee could sense it. Strangely, he and Vin did a lot of that - just sensing what the other was thinking without understanding why. Chris didn’t know Vin Tanner and yet he had such a complete understanding of the other man that knowledge mattered little.

"Who woulda thought that we’d end up protecting a town for a lousy dollar a day," Buck laughed, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

Larabee glanced at his companion and smiled. "We’ve done worse for less."

Wilmington burst out laughing. "That we have. Do you remember the time we agreed to escort those three fine ladies from Montville to Bronton?"

Chris nodded, his eyes flashing with devilish mirth. "I remember." Buck’s breath caught in his throat. That look was one straight out of the past. One that had not crossed Larabee’s face for three long years. Buck fought to maintain control. Where the hell had that come from? "By the way, those fine ladies weren’t ladies at all."

"Not my fault, old friend. Of course, I must say it was an unforgettable trip. You ended up quite the hero, ‘Dr. Larabee’!" the scoundrel laughed.

"If I remember correctly, it was your idea to go swimming."

"How was I supposed to know that the creek was full of leeches? Anyway, you made out alright. ‘It’s okay ladies, I’m a Doctor.’"

Larabee shook his head hardly believing that his life had ever been that frivolous. Then his face changed. It became more serious, but still light. "It was just after that we met Sarah. I was tellin’ Vin about that day last night. I haven’t ever seen a woman slap you so hard, Buck."

Buck froze, not sure if he should speak or remain silent. Chris appeared aware of his friend’s uneasiness and without warning reached out, patted Buck’s arm and then rose to his feet, the shutters that protected his emotions slamming back down into place. "I want to talk to Ezra about this competition. Vin heard rumors of a really large bet being placed."

Buck nodded and watched dumbfounded as Chris left. Chris had brought up his wife! Without prompting, Chris had mentioned Sarah! I was tellin’ Vin about that day last night. Buck allowed his eyes to close. Vin Tanner had more than just penetrated the barrier Chris had surrounded himself with. He was drawing Chris out from behind it. That mischievous smile that had flashed across Chris’s face was the Larabee Buck remembered. It had only been a fleeting moment and the discussion had been short, but it had happened.

Buck swallowed self-consciously. He had been afraid that Vin had stepped in and stolen his friend. How wrong he had been. Vin hadn’t stolen Chris, he was helping to rescue the gunfighter from the bottomless pit of hate that Larabee had been residing in since the death of his wife and child.

Buck released a long deep breath. Hell, he owed Vin. He’d have to find the tracker later and thank him.

**********

Nathan rushed into the saloon about an hour later. Buck glanced up from the young lady he was whispering sweet nothings to. The healer surveyed the room, clearly looking for someone in particular.

Spotting Buck, the dark-skinned man strode over. "You seen, Chris?"

"Said he wanted to talk to Ezra. Something wrong?"

"You could say that," Nathan muttered.

"What is it?"

"It’s Vin. He’s leavin’."

"WHAT?"

"Just saw him packing up his wagon. Don’t know what’s got into him. I gotta find Chris."

Buck leaped to his feet and grabbed Nathan’s arm. "Wait! Let me talk to Vin."

"No offence, Buck, but Vin’s a real stubborn man and I reckon about the only one of us that is gong to have a chance in hell of changin’ his mind is Larabee."

"Nathan, please. Let me try first." There was desperation in Buck’s face.

"Buck?"

"Look, don’t ask any questions. If I can’t convince Vin to stay, I’ll go and find Chris myself, okay?" Nathan nodded slowly. Why did he get the feeling that Buck knew more about Vin’s sudden decision to leave than he was letting on?

Buck Wilmington strode out of the door, raced down the street and turned into the alley that housed Vin’s wagon. The tracker glanced up when he heard Buck approaching. Instantly, he returned to what he was doing.

"Vin, what the hell are you doing?"

"What’s it look like, Buck?"

The scoundrel stopped beside the young tracker, his arms flailing around his huge frame. "Vin, tell me you aren’t leavin’."

The tracker shrugged. "I never made any secret of the fact that I got me some things I’ve got to do, Buck."

"But you said they could wait."

"Made a mistake," Vin stated simply as he climbed up into the back of his wagon and began tying things down ready for his trip.

"Dammit, Vin will you stop that," Buck shouted leaping up into the dilapidated buckboard.

"Gotta do it, Buck. Otherwise everything falls everywhere on the trail." As the young man reached for a mug, Buck grabbed and stilled his arm. Tanner glared down at the hand holding him and raised his eyes to the man restraining him. Vin Tanner didn’t like to be held.

Instantly, Buck released the younger man’s arm, the intense message on his face as clear as if it had be shouted. "Vin, I know why you’re doin’ this and you don’t have to."

"You and Larabee have been friends a long time. I ain’t got no right destroyin’ that. I ain’t prepared to come between two friends."

"But you haven’t. Hell, I’ve made a mess of this. Look, just hold on a minute and let me explain." Vin eyed Buck with those thoughtful blue pools others called eyes. "I... look you’re right. I did think that somehow you had come between me and Chris, which is stupid and childish, but more than anything else it’s wrong. Dead wrong. I don’t know why Chris feels comfortable talkin’ to you, but he does. And yeah, I won’t lie to you - that hurts. I used to be the one he’d confide in, but he hasn’t done that for three years. Not since the fire. Look, he told you about what happened to Sarah and Adam, right?" Vin just stared at the scoundrel. "Did he tell you he climbed into a bottle after it happened? Did he tell you he became so consumed with guilt and hate that he stopped caring whether he lived or died? Did he tell you that he turned his back on all of his friends and pushed anyone who cared about him away? Did he tell you he ain’t spoken about Sarah since it happened... until he spoke to you last night?" No, Chris hadn’t actually admitted that it was the first time he had mentioned his wife since the tragedy, but Buck knew Chris well enough to know that it was. "I don’t know why he trusts you... hell, I don’t think he even knows why he trusts you, but he does."

"I trust him too." In that single statement, Buck read Vin’s pain. He didn’t know what was in Vin’s past, but he knew in that instant that Larabee was providing the same sort of support for the quietly spoken tracker that Vin was providing for the gunfighter.

Buck lowered his hand down onto Vin’s arm. "Then don’t go. He needs you. And I need you to keep doin’ whatever it is you’re doin’. Thanks to you, half an hour ago I saw the Chris Larabee that I used to ride with. Please, Vin. I’m willing to beg if you want me to. Please, stay." Buck searched Vin’s face and found he couldn’t read the emotions there.

Finally, the young man dropped his head and released a deep breath. "Don’t want to be responsible for ill feeling between you and Chris."

"You aren’t." Still Vin sat. "Look I have to warn ya, that if you try to leave, you’ll force me to knock you senseless and hog tie you."

Vin glanced up, the slightest trace of a smile on his face. "Reckon you would too."

"Damn straight I would," Buck snapped smiling. The smile slipped from his face as he studied Vin’s haunting eyes that were looking right through him. "Vin, Chris is my oldest friend, and I ain’t about to let anyone hurt him. Not you and not me."

Tanner started to open his mouth, when his eyes flicked to the street. "So that’s all there is to it, Buck," the tracker stated suddenly.

"Huh?"

Chris’ face appeared at the end of the wagon. He eyed his two friends intently. "J.D. just came and told me you were leaving." The accusation was harsh and low.

"Dammit that boy can’t get nothing right," Buck muttered, climbing past Chris and heading off down the alley. "Don’t worry. I’ll deal with him." The scoundrel paused and glanced back. Vin briefly made eye contact with the mustached man and nodded ever so slightly. Buck allowed his relief to present on his face and listened as Chris began interrogating Vin relentlessly. The scoundrel chuckled to himself as Vin completely ignored the older man and set about searching for nothing in particular.

"Well?" Chris finally demanded, watching Tanner climb out of the wagon and shove his small harmonica into his pocket.

"You find out about that big bet?"

Chris studied Vin’s poker face. The bastard had just disregarded every word he had said. "No, or at least, Ezra didn’t take it. The highest bet he’s taken is twenty dollars."

"Which means there are other players out there. Maybe we should set Ezra after them," Vin suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Already have. If there is another bookie out there, Ezra will ferret him out."

"Yep."

"Vin, were you going to leave?"

"I was thinkin’ about it," Vin replied honestly.

"Why?"

The tracker grinned. "Ain’t important. Let’s go and protect the second bookie."

"Protect him?"

"How much you wanna bet that if Ezra gets his hands on the poor bastard before we do, he’s one dead duck." Chris smiled and the two men fell into step.

***********

"Mr. Larabee!" Mary called, rushing into the sheriff’s office where Chris and most of his men were collected discussing the upcoming shooting competition and all of the problems that were sure to be associated with it. The regulators glanced up at the distressed woman. By the look on Mary’s face, the problems had started earlier than expected. "I think you better come."

The newly appointed peacekeepers followed the woman out onto the porch and immediately understood the reason for her concern. Ezra was standing between two men, physically holding them apart. Michael Hamilton and Pete McEwan. The first, a city boy who had bought a ranch and had the money to pay men to work it for him, was flanked by three of his hired cowhands. The other, a battler who worked his own spread, was alone but making enough noise for a dozen.

"Now, now gentlemen, this is an inappropriate way to solve this minor disagreement. May I suggest…" That was when Hamilton threw the first punch - one that struck Ezra on the side of the head. The gambler catapulted into McEwan who was about to shove the smaller man back at his opponent, when Josiah and Buck intervened. The preacher grabbed one of Ezra’s assailants and Buck the other. Nathan took the stunned gambler by the arm and assisted him across to the porch to sit down.

"You alright, Ezra?"

"I have just been assaulted, Mr. Jackson. Of course I am not alright!"

"Let me have a look," Nathan instructed, tilting Ezra’s head to the side to examine the reddening bruise.

"Of all the…" Suddenly Ezra gasped, leaped to his feet and launched himself at his notebook that had fallen to the ground during the scuffle. His bible. It contained the only record of the entries and the betting for the "Annual Four Corners’ Shoot Out".

"What’s the problem?" Chris demanded, flicking his eyes from McEwan to Hamilton.

"That cheatin’ sonofabitch conned me. He can’t do it!" Pete McEwan screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, yes I can. You signed the papers."

"But I was supposed to shoot against you. You. Not some hired professional."

"I want one of you to tell me what the hell is going on," Chris ordered with calm authority.

The well-dressed Hamilton shrugged free of Josiah and straightened his jacket. "There is nothing to explain. Mr. McEwan and I have a bet on the annual shooting competition. That’s all there is to it." With that, Hamilton nodded to his three cowhands, turned and the group made their way up the street.

"That isn’t all there is to it, you cheatin’ bastard." McEwan tried to rip free of Buck’s grip, but the scoundrel held firm.

"Mr. McEwan?" Vin asked. Something in Vin’s strong face calmed McEwan. Finally, the farmer relaxed and Buck released him.

Mary stepped up and patted Pete’s arm and then turned to Chris. "Pete owns a farm just outside of Four Corners. He and Mr. Hamilton were involved in a card game some weeks back and Pete lost $40."

"I couldn’t pay and so Hamilton said he’d wipe the bet if I beat him in the shooting competition. Hell, that city boy couldn’t hit the side of a barn so I agreed."

"And if you lose?" Ezra asked as he and Nathan stepped up to join the other peacekeepers.

"I sign my farm over to him."

Chris sighed and shook his head. "And now Hamilton has brought in a professional to take his place."

"But he can’t do that. I agreed to shoot against him," Pete argued.

"Is that a copy of the agreement?" Ezra inquired, reaching for the document sticking out of McEwan’s pocket.

"Sure is, Mister." Ezra unfolded the filthy piece of paper and began scanning it.

"Well, Ezra?" Nathan asked.

"I’m afraid the bet is contingent, not on the shooter, but on the marker."

"The marker?" Mary asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Travis. When you enter the competition you are given a numbered marker. According to this document, if Mr. Hamilton’s marker is eliminated before Mr. McEwan’s, then Mr. McEwan’s debt is wiped. However, if Mr. McEwan’s marker is eliminated before Mr. Hamilton’s, then Mr. McEwan’s farm becomes the property of Mr. Hamilton. I’m afraid the identity of the shooter is irrelevant."

Pete stared at Ezra and dropped his face. "So that’s it then. That cheatin’ sonofabitch gets my farm." Shaking his head, the man moved off. Mary followed him, seeking to offer whatever comfort she could.

"That ain’t right," J.D. muttered. "We gotta do something… Hey, one of us could take Mr. McEwan’s marker and shoot in his place!" the boy exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement. J.D. stared at the hard faces of his companions. Clearly they didn’t share his enthusiasm. "What? What is it?"

"We can’t get involved," Chris stated in a low emotionless tone the others were beginning to become accustomed to.

"What? But…"

"Chris is right," Nathan agreed.

"We have to remain neutral," Josiah murmured.

"But… but that means that farmer is going to lose his land. We can’t just stand by and let that happen. Buck?"

"J.D., we’re the law in town. We can’t be seen to take sides."

"The bet is legal. There is nothing we can do," Ezra reiterated, though there was a twang of disgust in his voice that mirrored the looks of distaste on his companion’s faces.

"I can’t accept that. It ain’t right. Chris, you could take Mr. McEwan’s marker and shoot for him. No one will question it if you do it." The youth stared at his leader praying that his words were having an effect. Out of the corner of his eye J.D. noticed Vin’s face. Tanner didn’t look happy. "Chris Hamilton has his hired shooter. You could be Mr. McEwan’s, couldn’t he, Vin. It’s the right thing to do."

"Maybe it is, Kid, but I can’t," Chris stated softly.

Turning to Vin, the gunfighter nodded. This must be the big bet you heard about.

Reckon so. They didn’t need words. The uncanny understanding they shared seemed to allow them to communicate without them.

J.D. stared wildly at the one person he was certain could convince Chris to change his mind. The youth knew the tracker agreed with him so why wasn’t he saying anything? In the few short days J.D. had known the other man, Vin had presented as someone who spoke his mind.

"Vin?"

The tracker glanced at the boy. "It ain’t my call, Kid."

You think we should take the marker? Chris inquired with his eyes.

"Sometimes a man can’t do what he wants to," Vin muttered.

Larabee considered the words and nodded. This was one of those times.

"But, Chris!"

"It’s finished, J.D." The tone made it final.

"This shooting competition isn’t about being fast on the draw. It’s about accuracy. No doubt, Mr. Hamilton has hired himself a sharpshooter not a gunfighter," Ezra explained. "Although I am sure that Mr. Larabee would acquit himself admirably should he choose to enter."

"Smooth come back there, Ezra," Buck chuckled. Clearly the gambler didn’t want to be seen to be putting Chris down.

"Just a statement of fact, Mr. Wilmington."

"Oh, absolutely," Buck agreed, his face taking on mock seriousness.

"I can’t believe that we’re just going to stand around and let that arrogant mongrel take that man’s farm."

"Drop it, J.D.," Buck ordered quietly. "None of us are happy about it. It’s just one of those things."

The youth looked from Buck, to Chris, to the rest of the group. Finally, he shook his head and stalked off.

"Kid’s right. This ain’t proper," Nathan muttered.

"Don’t you start," Chris growled. Hell, he didn’t like it any better than the rest of them, but the bottom line was they as peace keepers simply couldn’t be seen as siding with one farmer over the other, not unless one or the other had broken the law. Larabee and his men had to remain impartial in the eyes of Four Corners’ citizens or lose any chance of earning the town’s respect.

**********

"Well?" Chris demanded.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder to ensure they weren’t about to be overheard.

"I made the appropriate enquiries as per your request. It appears that Mr. Hamilton has been after Mr. McEwan’s farm for quite some time."

"Why?" Vin asked, inclining his head toward one of the vacant chairs.

Ezra nodded and took the offered seat. "Mr. Hamilton’s property doesn’t have access to the river. He has several dams, but with rainfall being somewhat scarce this year, he has become desperate to get his hands on a more permanent water supply. Mr. McEwan’s property runs along side Hamilton’s but..."

"But has access to the river," Chris finished.

"Exactly."

"Ezra, you sure there’s nothing in that agreement to help McEwan?" Vin asked.

"Positive, Mr. Tanner."

Vin flicked his eyes to Chris. J.D.’s right. This ain’t right.

Chris shrugged. "Even if I did decide to take McEwan’s marker, there’s no guarantee I’d win."

"Wasn’t meanin’ you. I thought that I could take McEwan’s marker," Vin explained.

"Hamilton is a rich man. Whoever he’s hired is probably a professional," Chris argued.

Before Vin could comment, Ezra jumped in. "I have taken the liberty of researching Mr. Hamilton’s replacement and you are correct, Mr. Larabee. The shooter’s name is Collins."

Vin’s eyebrows rose. "Alexander Collins?"

"Yes, do you know him?" Ezra asked with surprise.

"Only by reputation. He’s good," Vin muttered.

"According to my sources, he’s somewhat better than ‘good’. They say he can hit a one inch bullseye from 100 feet."

Chris pursed his lips. "Which leaves us back where we started. Unless Hamilton or this Collins does something illegal there’s nothing we can do except ensure that things don’t get out of hand."

Ezra rose to his feet. "The contest starts in one hour. Oh, and by the way, most people wish to change their initial bets."

"That going to be a problem for you?" Chris asked.

Ezra smiled. "Mr. Larabee, Mr. Hamilton is now a certainty to win. I may be many things, but a fool is not one of them. Betting closed as of two hours ago and while there are a number of people who feel unjustly treated, my motto is, a bet is a bet."

"So you aren’t going to have any trouble covering any of the bets?" Vin asked.

"Mr. Tanner, up until two hours ago no one considered Mr. Hamilton a chance and thus no one has bet on him, not even Hamilton himself. However, I think we are all agreed that Mr. Hamilton’s professional shooter is going to win. As no one bet on Hamilton, I will not have to pay out any winnings." Ezra was beaming.

"Meaning you get to keep all of the money everyone has bet."

"Exactly. I wonder if Four Corners has any other annual events like this?" The gambler winked at his companions and then left.

"I get the feelin’ that if Ezra rolled off the edge of the world, he’d still land on his feet," Vin murmured.

**********

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