"Relax, Vin, it’s us." The rifle wavered for a second and then dropped from Vin’s fingers.

"Thank God," the tracker murmured. "You fellas okay?" His voice was strained, but relieved. He could make out three forms approaching him.

Chris dropped down beside his wounded colleague and shook his head as he surveyed the amount of blood his friend had lost. "They got you good didn’t they," the older man growled. He noted Vin’s continued blinking and glanced at Nathan for an explanation.

"Vin, can you see?" the healer asked carefully. He had to know and there was no subtle way to find out.

"Yeah, but....only light and shape. Can’t make anythin’ out. And Nathan..." Vin swallowed. "Head’s hurtin’. Hurtin’ like hell." Chris’ jaw tightened. The pain had to be bad for Vin to mention it.

"Well what do you expect? If you go around stoppin’ bullets with it, its bound to hurt," Nathan replied. The flippant remark didn’t change the concerned look on Vin’s face. Quickly Nathan tipped the injured man’s head to the side to examine the wound. "You’re gonna be fine, Vin. Half an inch closer and I’d be digging it out of your thick skull. As it is, it’s just grazed it. Now some head wounds hardly give more than a headache. And some...well they’re all fired painful and they can cause temporary vision problems. Your sight will clear up. Chris, hold this against his head. We need to stop the bleedin’. And don’t be gentle. Firm pressure." Nathan frowned as he evaluated the amount of blood Vin had lost. Hell there seemed to be a lot, even for a head injury.

Chris pressed the wad of material against his friend’s wound. Vin gasped, his eyes closing. "Sorry, Cowboy.....Vin?"

"I’m awake. I know I gotta stay awake."

"Yep, that’s right," Nathan reinforced. "Now, I’m gonna need you to talk to me. How many fingers do you see?"

Vin squinted at the dark shape in front of his face. "None. Just a blob."

"Okay, and what do you see directly to your left."

Vin glanced that way and grimaced. "Aww hell. I see two Chris Larabee’s and damned if one of them ain’t enough for me to deal with." Nathan winked at Chris. The older man allowed a smile to touch his worried face.

"So you’re actually seeing double? Can you make Chris out?" Again, vigorous blinking and then Vin slammed his eyes shut and reached for his stomach as nausea swept over him. "You gonna be sick?" Nathan asked gently.

"No, don’t think so. Not yet."

At that moment, the others arrived in a whirlwind of arguments. Vin heard J.D.’s voice and he smiled, despite the pain.

"Seventeen. Eighteen. You back already, pard?"

"Yeah. You okay?"

"No problem." But as Vin replied, another attack of queasiness struck. "Now, I’m gonna be sick," Vin warned Nathan.

"That’s okay," the healer soothed. "I’d be worried if you weren’t. Chris help me lift him." The two men started to do just that, when Vin yelped.

"What? What?" Nathan demanded, watching as Vin’s already pale face, paled further.

"Reckon now would probably be a good time to mention my side."

"Your side!" six voices thundered at him.

"Awww hell, don’t yell at me!" Quickly Nathan peeled back Vin’s buckskin coat and gasped. There he found the source of much of the blood. A well hidden bullet wound. One Vin had sustained long before the head laceration.

"Jesus," Nathan muttered.

"It’s alright, doc. The bullet went straight through. I checked." There was a ridiculous and almost proud smile on Tanner’s face. Nathan muttered something under his breath and withdrew to dig around in his bag. The moment the healer retreated, Vin had Chris’ angry face thrust into his blurred sight.

"Why didn’t you say somethin’ you stupid, stubborn sonofabitch?!"

"Awww get outta my face. Can’t you see I’m hurt? Hell, you’ll get blood all over that nice black shirt of yers" Chris gazed down at his friend and shook his head. If he wasn’t so fond of Vin he’d shoot the dusty bastard right where he lay. Of course, it appeared that Vin had similar thoughts. "J.D.? J.D. I want you to shoot this sonofabitch for me. J.D. where are ya?" Vin called. Chris glanced over at the boy and signaled for him to approach. Quickly, the youth dropped down next to his injured companion.

"I’m over here," J.D. whispered, placing his hand on Vin’s shoulder.

"Nineteen. Twenty. Hell, you were quick. How’d you get across the ravine? Fly?"

"Well, now Vin. J.D. here can ride. And he can shoot," Buck boomed. All turned to Ezra and waited for the gambler to supply the line that was now a standing joke in the team.

"And he can fly!" Ezra quipped. A chorus of laughter erupted from the other gathered men as they released some of the suppressed tension that had built up over the past thirty minutes.

Vin looked across at the dark patch that he assumed was J.D. "You did real good, pard," the tracker whispered gratefully. "I’m real glad we’re ridin’ together." If it were possible for a man to glow, then at that moment, J.D. Dunne was causing a super nova that could light up an entire planet. It wasn’t just the offer of friendship, it was the fact that Vin had called him ‘pard’ again. Not ‘kid’. Vin never called him ‘kid’, like all of the other men. And Vin had trusted him to make the shot. Hell, Vin had had more faith in him then he had had in himself.

"I’m real glad we’re ridin’ together too, Vin."

"Okay, get out of my way. I’ve got work to do," Nathan snapped impatiently. "Gotta get him cleaned up, stitched up and wrapped up."

"You make me... sound like a Christmas.... turkey.......Doc......Awww hell, I’m gonna be sick." Nathan nodded to Chris and this time, the two men gently rolled their companion to the side so he could expel his stomach contents. Moments later, the tracker had been carefully dragged into the shade, where Nathan began swabbing the wound with carbolic. Chris watched as Vin’s lips pressed together firmly. The Seven’s leader, who was supporting the injured sharpshooter on his side so that Nathan could clean the exit wound, reached for Vin’s hand. The younger man’s fingers stapled around the offered fist.

"Hang on Vin. Nathan won’t be much longer," Chris whispered.

"Alright Vin. You’re mighty lucky. It’s a clean wound. The bullet only tore through flesh and muscle."

"That all," Vin grimaced.

"I’m about ready to stitch it, but I can’t give you anything for the pain. Not with that head wound."

Larabee lifted his eyes to Nathan, released Vin’s hand and grabbed the healer’s arm to stop him inflicting any further pain on his weakened friend. "What the hell are you talkin’ about. You’ve got to give him something."

"It’s okay, Chris. I know I gotta...stay...awake. Laudanum would ....only knock me out." Nathan jerked his arm free of his leader’s grip and set to work. He didn’t have time to argue with Larabee. He had to close this wound.

Again Vin’s face contorted with pain.

"Nathan, take it easy," Chris snapped.

"Aww, stop your belly aching Chris and let Nathan work," Vin cracked back.

"No one’s askin’ you," Chris growled, but he reached for Vin’s hand again and held it firmly. Whether it was the succor of knowing Chris was there, the loss of blood or just the head wound, Larabee wasn’t sure, but the moment he took his best friend’s hand, Vin’s eye lids sank.

"Come on Vin, you got to stay awake," Nathan commanded watching his patient’s eyes close.

"I’m awake," Vin murmured sluggishly.

"We can’t let him go to sleep," Nathan told Chris firmly. "And I’ve got to get this stitchin’ finished. He’s bleedin’ again."

"Vin. I need you to talk to me," Chris stated, leaning down close to his friend. "Open your eyes so I can see you’re awake."

"I’m awake dammit!"

"Open your eyes."

"Open your own damn eyes!"

Nathan nodded and set to work. "Keep him talkin’," the healer ordered.

"So Vin, were you wounded before or after you shot the fuse out?"

"Didn’t."

"What do you mean you didn’t? You’re shot ain’t ya? Twice, in case you hadn’t noticed."

"Yeah, I noticed. The blood was a dead give away, Larabee." Vin grimaced as Nathan started doing what was necessary to close the wound.

"So, Mr Tanner," Ezra asked stepping forward. "What did you mean by, you didn’t?" Chris glanced at Ezra and nodded his thanks. Then signaled the other’s forward. They’d been waiting for his permission, he realized. Together, they would keep Vin occupied.

"I didn’t shoot the fuse..........." Vin’s eyes squeezed shut and Chris found himself suppressing the urge to beat Nathan to a pulp. Taking a deep breath, Vin continued. "I didn’t shoot the fuse out, J.D. did." There was the resounding blast of gulped air as six men unconsciously advertised their disbelief.

"Are you telling us, that it was not your fine self that fired the shot that extinguished the wick that would have sent us all to meet our makers and that it was in fact our very own sheriff, who performed the extraordinary feat?"

"That’s what.....I’m sayin’."

"You’re pullin’ our legs," Buck hollered.

"Nope. So J.D., did you see the bullet?" Vin pressed, through gritted teeth.

Chris Larabee squeezed the injured man’s shoulder with a mixture of pride and sympathy. He knew Vin understood the importance of staying awake. And he could see that the tracker was doing his very best to keep talking in order to do so.

"I did Vin. I did see it. I saw it fly all the way across the clearing as if I was sitting on top of the bullet. And I saw it cut the fuse. Honestly I did."

"Well, there you go," Vin chuckled.

"What you talkin’ ‘bout boy?" Buck demanded.

"Buck I really did. It was just like Vin said. It was like my eye was attached to the bullet and..." Buck grabbed his young friend roughly, flicked the hat off his head and began examining the kid’s skull.

"You sure you weren’t shot too? Nathan as soon as you’re finished there, you better come and examine this boy. He ain’t makin’ sense."

"So what, pray tell, do you find so novel about that?" Ezra chortled.

"Hey, there. J.D. did real well," Vin called. His voice had become stronger. Chris leaned down close to Vin’s ear.

"You’re doing well too, cowboy. Nathan ain’t gonna be much longer."

"So you really are serious about this, Mr Tanner? It was indeed Mr Dunne who ...."

"That’s what I’ve been sayin’, Ez," Vin repeated, his voice laced with amusement.

"It’s just that I find it somewhat astonishing that our sheriff could shoot, that accurately, over such an amazing distance.

"Well, he did," Vin stated. His voice was breathy, but unwavering. "Kept his head. But I reckon that he’s been around Larabee too much. Buck you really are gonna have to talk to J.D. about his cussing. Reckon even I learned some new words."

Buck slapped J.D. on the back proudly. "Now, that’s real good to hear, son. Ain’t I been tellin’ ya that swearin’ improves yer shootin’."

"You ain’t never said that."

"I have so! Told ya heaps of times. That’s why Chris here shoots so well, hey Vin."

"Bullshit," J.D. snapped.

"Watch your &*%@in’ language, boy," the scoundrel snarled, shoving J.D. roughly.

The young sheriff shook his head in annoyance. "Did you hear that Vin?" the boy asked. Chris glanced up at the others and indicated for them to move away. Instantly three of them did so. J.D. didn’t move. He just stood there frowning. Buck noted his failure to comply with Chris’ request and so firmly took the boy by the shoulder and guided him after Josiah and Ezra.

"Fact of the matter is, J.D., the swearin’ worked didn’t it? Ya hit the fuse," Buck stated, intentionally forcing the younger man’s mind off whatever was going on on the ground over there. For some reason, Vin had gone very quiet. That wasn’t a good sign.

"I don’t reckon it was my swearin’," J.D whispered. The sheriff lifted his eyes to Josiah. "I ain’t prayed for a long time, but I....and...." The huge preacher smiled gently at the youth, whose eyes were filling with unconscious tears. "You reckon He heard me?"

"He always hears you, Brother."

"So you reckon it was God that helped me shoot real straight?"

"Course He did," Buck snapped confidently. "And He did it because you was swearin’"

"Huh?"

Buck rolled his eyes. "It’s real simple. Swearin’ is a sin and if you’re a sinner, God has to help ya. He ain’t got no choice."

"An interesting interpretation of God’s word," Josiah reflected with amusement.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve read the Bible. And it says that ole God has got to save sinners. And if J.D. was swearin’ real bad, then he was sinnin’ real bad. And that meant that God had to help him. Isn’t that right, Ezra?"

"Oh, please, Wilmington. Do not try to draw me into your comical debate. I can honestly say, that I have no idea of what on earth you are prattling on about. Either of you. Eyes attached to bullets. Salvation held by the use of vulgar language. Well, Sir, I will say this. If the Almighty is obliged to save those who swear, then I dare say that your place in Heaven is assured. Further more..."

A loud groan, from the injured sharpshooter, cut Ezra off. The gambler glanced over toward Vin. There he saw Chris leaning over the wounded man and speaking softly. Chris then looked up and said something to the healer and then returned his attention Vin. Whatever the gunfighter said, provoked a loud and very familiar response.

"Awww hell!"

Larabee stood, commented to Nathan and then approached his other men, who were collected in a tight circle several feet away.

"He okay?" Buck asked. Chris grunted and then turned his enraged eyes on J.D.

"Can’t understand why one of you didn’t have the enough sense to stop the bleedin’" The young man being scrutinized by Larabee, felt guilt wash over him.

"It just all happened so quickly. I didn’t know he’d been shot in the side. He never said nothing to me. It must have happened when he went off looking of you fellas. I never would have left him if...."

"Chris! You leave J.D. alone," Vin bellowed. "I didn’t tell him that..."

"You lay there and do what Nathan says, ya hear."

"Go to hell, Chris."

"Just lay there and rest!" the older man growled.

"What you think I’m doin’, getting a &*%@ing tan?!"

Chris turned back to face the others only to find grins prominently splashed across their relieved faces.

"Sounds like Brother Vin is going to be alright." Again, Chris grunted.

"He ain’t shut up since we got here, so I reckon he’s in a fair bit of pain, but Nathan says he’s okay. If J.D. hadn’t spotted that rope bridge though, the silly bastard would have bled to death before Nathan got here."

"Sorry, Chris," J.D. apologized quietly. Larabee glared at the guilt-ridden boy and then turned and strode away.

Buck reached out and squeezed J.D.’s shoulder. "He ain’t mad at you, kid. He’s pissed with Vin and cuz Vin’s hurt, he can’t take it out on him.....not yet at least." The young sheriff nodded. He knew that. He just couldn’t help feeling that he had to shoulder some of the responsibility for Vin’s condition. If only he had known that his partner had been shot in the side. If only Vin had said something.

*****

Several minutes later..........

"Mr Larabee. I believe we are about to have company," Ezra announced in his unruffled cultured voice.

Chris followed the inclination of Ezra’s head. There was a cloud of dust approaching rapidly. The claim jumpers were probably coming back to investigate why their dynamite hadn’t gone off. The gunfighter’s eyes narrowed momentarily and then his face did something most unexpected. It relaxed. What passed as Larabee’s version of a smile, crossed his face.

"Good. I’ve got a few things I want to say to them." The sneer dropped and the hardness returned. "Nathan," the Seven’s leader called. "We’ve got us some company. You stay with Vin. Shoot the stupid bastard if he tries to get to his feet." A single middle finger was raised by Nathan’s patient in a vulgar, but silent response. Chris Larabee couldn’t help grinning, but this time, it was a real smile of amusement. Turning back to the others, Larabee began barking orders. "Buck, there," Chris pointed to an outcropping of rock. That’s where Chris wanted his experienced friend when their adversaries arrived. The big mustached man nodded. "And Buck....I want them alive." Wilmington grunted and left. Buck was a good man, but he didn’t take kindly to being tied up like a bedroll, or to being left to be obliterated by dynamite and....he certainly didn’t react at all well to seeing a friend suffer. "I mean it Buck."

"I’ll just nick ‘em," the scoundrel declared resolutely. Buck’s usual jovial demure was gone. Pushed aside by the rising bile from his gut. The returning group of miners had tied him up and left him to die. He could forgive them that. But they had shot a team mate twice. For that, they would pay.

Chris watched Buck go and sighed. What would be, would be. "Josiah, top of that ridge. Ezra down there."

"As you say, Mr Larabee. You do realize that there are more than a dozen of them." The look on Larabee’s face silenced the gambler.

Chris then turned to J.D. and noted that the kid was staring at the ground. His shoulders were drooped and that spark of youthful enthusiasm that characterized his every movement was absent. "Hey, sharpshooter." J.D. snapped his head up and found that his leader was looking directly at him, a half grin on his serious face.

"I heard that!" Vin yelled. "I ain’t dead yet."

"I’m just protecting the team’s interests," Chris called back. "We got ourselves a real good replacement."

"Go to hell, Larabee!"

"You lay there and rest."

Chris glanced back at J.D. and winked at the now grinning boy. In one word, Chris had let the youth know that he didn’t blame him for Vin’s injuries. No, there was only one person responsible for that and Chris intended letting him have it, the very moment Nathan said the stupid bastard was fit enough.

"Kid, up there," Chris pointed.

The youth nodded and headed off, his energy sapping eagerness seeming to have returned. It wasn’t just knowing that Chris didn’t see him as culpable. Earlier, the safety of J.D.’s friends had rested solely on his somewhat inexperienced shoulders. Now the group’s safety was spread evenly. That was the way, J.D. liked it. Twelve against five. Not the greatest odds, but then, when had they ever entered a fight when the odds were actually in their favor. If things went bad, it would be twelve against six, because Nathan would grab a rifle and ......hell, if Nathan left Vin’s side for a second, J.D. had no doubt that the wounded man would find some way to be a part of this. Yep, these twelve claim jumpers didn’t have a chance. They were about to face the Magnificent Six and a Half.