“If you stick around, you’re going to be deader than a beaver hat.”

Vin frowned. “I’ll take that chance.”

Chris eyed his friend. It was exactly what he’d expect Vin to say. “I won’t. You get back on to town.” Larabee read the turmoil on Tanner’s less than poker face. Vin would no more turn his back on Buck than fly in the air. “If we’re not there by morning, you come hunting.” It was a compromise.

Chris held Vin’s gaze. You’re no good to Buck dead.

Tanner’s stare intensified, reflecting both his objection and conflict, but in the end, common sense won out. Vin wasn’t stupid. He knew that if he was recognized, his presence could put Buck in increased danger.

Their arms came together in a grip of trust and faith -- of brotherhood. For several seconds they clutched forearms. Neither man used such a symbol lightly. It was also a promise… a sacred bond to be there for each other.

Vin pulled his horse to the right, turned it around and headed out of town, his hat pulled low over his face.

**********

A group of men watched the lone rider with interest. Two exchanged a glance. “Was that…?”

“Sure looked like it.”

“Five hundred dollars isn’t it?”

The first man smiled, revealing rows of discolored teeth. “Just when you think it’s going to be a shit of a day, a gift falls into your lap.”

**********

Vin had been in the saddle for five hours straight, which explained why his back was aching. He rose and stretched as best he could.

Peso bobbed his head indicating his dissatisfaction, but resting wasn’t an option for man or beast. The sooner they got back to Four Corners, the sooner Vin could update the others.

His thoughts returned to Buck. Chris would rescue him, he assured himself.

For the hundredth time, Vin glanced back over his shoulder to ensure he wasn’t being followed. A dust cloud rose from the trail – a dust cloud moving at great speed. Vin cursed. It was impossible to tell how many, but the size of the cloud told him it was a group. There was always the chance they weren’t after him. Of course, there was also a chance Chris would begin taking ballet lessons!

Vin pressed his lips together. He could attempt to outrun them. However, Peso was tired and that would take trouble to Four Corners’ doorstep which was not an option. He could turn and circle back to Purgatory, but Chris had his hands full. Besides, his reappearance could put Buck’s life in jeopardy.

Vin searched ahead and spotted Devil’s Gap – a narrow gully through the mountains. He could ambush the posse there. A couple of well aimed shots should cut the group in half and then hopefully they’d run for it. If not… that would be their mistake.

Deciding this was his only option, Vin dug in his spurs.

**********

Purgatory : Chris has rescued Buck and Buck has just finished collecting his clothing.

Buck drew back into the alley when the aroma of unwashed bodies became potent. He’d been doing his best to remain unseen. Two men passed in deep conversation. Buck gagged. Clearly neither had ever heard of taking a bath. Wilmington started toward the other end of the alley, intent on getting to his horse and out of town.

“Yep. They’ll drag Tanner back here.”

This comment grabbed Buck’s attention and he paused. Surely they weren’t talking about Vin… but then, Vin had probably accompanied Chris here.

Money? It couldn’t be Vin.

“Reagan will enjoy killin’ him.”

“Couldn’t believe my eyes. Vin Tanner on a platter.”

Buck waited to hear no more.

**********

The posse was gaining with each stride. Peso was a good horse, but he was beginning to flag.

An explosion from a rifle shattered the late afternoon and Vin’s upper arm ignited. The impact of the bullet almost unseated him. He dragged his body upright and urged his faithful horse to continue. Returning fire would only slow him down. He had to get to the pass well ahead of his pursuers so he had enough time to climb. His survival lay in owning the high ground.

Chancing a look at his bicep, Vin identified the bloodied exit wound. The bullet had gone straight through, which meant he needed to stop the bleeding sooner rather than later.

“Come on!” he yelled, slamming his heels into Peso’s sides. The horse increased its pace. Devil’s Gap loomed ahead.

Vin rode about halfway through the passage and then dragged back on Peso’s reins. Pain zapped down his arm and into his fingers, the nerves spasming. He lost his grip and cried out. Peso reared but pulled up, the animal’s panted breathing echoing in the narrow pass.

Vin tumbled from the saddle but landed on his feet, grabbed his rifle and smacked the weary animal on the rump. He couldn’t have asked for more from any horse. “Go! Go on!”

Peso trotted off reluctantly.

Vin searched the area and then raced to one side of the steep canyon and began to ascend. His arm had gone numb, but blood was still oozing from the throbbing wound.

Vin paused and listened. He could hear the approach of the posse on the breeze.

Frantically, Tanner looked left and right. Some rocks jutting over the edge with a small channel behind them was exactly what he was looking for. He would be well protected there.

Vin stumbled toward the area and dropped behind the boulders. He placed his rifle on the ground and then peeled off the sleeve of his buckskin coat to examine the damage. His arm and the front of his shirt were splattered with blood - far too much blood. Already he was starting to feel the effects of blood loss. His head was becoming wooly and his hands shaking as shock set in. If he didn’t stop the bleeding, there wouldn’t be need to worry about the posse -- he’d bleed to death!

Vin reached into his boot and withdrew his knife. As he lifted his eyes, his world lurched to the right and he toppled backwards onto his rump. Blinking several times to regain his bearings, he consciously slowed his breathing and then attacked his shirt with the knife, cutting away a strip of fabric.

Below, hoofs thundered into the middle of the Devil’s Gap. Experience told Vin that now was the perfect time to take his enemy, but his priorities had changed. He glanced at his rifle still in two minds, but the weapon faded in and out of focus. He had only moments to control the bleeding or weakness would overwhelm him. Blood loss had a way of creeping up on a man. Vin discarded the knife and threaded the strip of fabric around his arm, holding one end in his teeth. He tied the makeshift bandage and then pulled it as tight as he could. Stars danced in front his eyes, but he held on to consciousness, grinding his jaw.

Vin exhaled and allowed his eyes to close. It was important to catch his breath. The burning from his arm was clouding his ability to think and if he was to survive, he had to clear the fog. With determination, he rose above the pain that was blanketing his mind.

After a few seconds, Tanner drew in a deep, but slightly shaky breath and collected his rifle. He’d lost his chance to attack his enemy. Now, his only hope was to stay hidden and pray they’d lose interest in him.

Crawling forward, Vin peered around the rock. There was no sign of the posse. His heart thudded in his chest and his breathing rate increased. They had to be down there, unless they’d taken off after Peso… or perhaps they had a tracker with them. Tracking on the sun baked surface of the canyon wouldn’t be easy, but a good tracker wouldn’t have difficulty.

Vin licked his lips and rose slightly. He listened, identifying the sound of muffled voices. Five men were gathered directly below him, one of them crouched and examining the ground.

Vin set his jaw and raised his rifle, but hesitated. What if they weren’t after him? What if they were looking for someone else? Then again, they’d shot him. If that wasn’t a clear indication of their intentions, nothing was.

As Vin aimed, he recognized the group – a band of horse rustlers he’d taken in before. He remembered their leader well. Reagan was a violent man who’d had no qualms killing an innocent farmer to steal his herds. There was no doubt in Vin’s mind that the rustlers had followed him and were doing so for one reason… to collect the bounty.

Vin’s vision blurred in and out of focus again. Ignoring the burning pain, he pulled the rifle into his shoulder snugly, and fired three times in quick succession. Only one of the shots found its mark. Bullets showered his position and he pulled back behind the rocks. His shoulder slammed against the canyon wall, jarring the rifle from his numbed fingers.

Those below scattered.

Vin’s world tossed from side to side, his stomach rolling, his heart pounding in his ears and drowning out the sounds of his attackers. Blinking furiously to regain his wits, Vin scrambled to his knees and scooped up his weapon. He’d just blown his second chance. He’d needed to take out three of the five in the first round if he was to gain the upper hand. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but weakness was creeping over him and his hands were unsteady. Red and black blotches flashed before of his eyes. He was in trouble. He hadn’t stopped the bleeding early enough.

As Vin prepared to leap up again, a rifle appeared on his left -- only three feet from his face.

“Freeze, Tanner.” Vin threw himself to the ground and swiveled, firing. He took out the first man… but not the second. There were more than five in the posse, he realized with frustration. These two must have started climbing while he’d been tending to his wound.

The second man smacked the weapon from Vin’s weakened hands and thrust the barrel of his rifle against the side of Tanner’s head. The force caused the black blotches in front of Vin’s eyes to join into clouds.

“Move and you die. Right here. Right now.” To back up his claim, the horse rustler applied pressure to the barrel which bit into Vin’s skin.

Tanner released his breath and slumped back, waiting for the swirling lights to ease. “Reagan,” he muttered.

“Long time no see, Tanner. Get up!”

“So, you cheated the hangman’s noose?”

Reagan grinned. “Money talks and bullshit walks. Get up! We’ve got a long ride ahead of us. Tascosa, I hear.” The huge man reached down. Remembering his discarded knife, Vin’s fingers snaked out and closed around it. He slashed across Reagan’s body. The horse rustler recoiled, the tip of the blade only just piercing his skin. Reegan roared and leveled his rifle at Vin… but didn’t pull the trigger. “Drop it.”

Vin gripped the knife firmly. Reagan smirked. “Either you die now, or you die later. Your choice.”

Vin glared at the other man. He could slit his own throat to ensure his death was swift and painless; the opposite of what he was certain Reagan had planned for him. He lifted the knife. Reagan’s smile broadened.

‘So this is how it’s going to end,’ Vin thought. He was going to die at his own hand... better than at the end of a rope. A feeling of calmness washed over him. He was choosing the time and he was choosing the way. He couldn’t ask for more. As he raised the knife to end his life, an image of Chris filled his mind. For a handful of heart beats he froze, suddenly at odds with himself. He tossed the weapon down before making a conscious decision to do so.

Reagan’s right eyebrow rose. “Not prepared to kill yourself?” The horse rustler bared his teeth in a sadistic smile. “You’ll wish you had.”

**********

Ten minutes later, Vin agreed with Reagan. His body snapped forward as another of the thug’s blows slammed into his stomach. Pain radiated from the point of impact and seemed to collect in his skull. He could hear laughter swirling around him. With his arms tied behind his back, he was defenseless. Reagan targeted his arm with expertise. Blood oozed from the wound, Vin’s energy draining away with each drop.

Tanner gulped in air to steady himself and then lifted his hate-filled gaze.

Reagan peered down at him, his putrid breath stinging Vin’s face. “Had enough?”

“Go to hell,” Tanner spat, straightening.

While Douglas Reagan’s smile widened, his eyes became harsher. “You’re real tough, aren’t you, Tanner? We’ll see how you’re feeling this time tomorrow. Put him on John’s horse. He won’t need it.” Reagan laughed, spitting toward the two corpses lying at the base of the canyon.

Vin was wrenched to the right. An involuntary cry escaped his tightly clenched jaw. A fist blasted into the middle of his back, propelling him toward a horse. He stumbled over his buckskin coat which was still threaded on his left arm and hanging on the ground.

The patches in front of his eyes blended and faded. His mind whirled. Why the hell hadn’t he taken his chance to end this earlier? He hadn’t been afraid. Hell, one thing he wasn’t afraid of was dying quickly. He’d had the knife and Reagan had been prepared to let him do it. What the hell had stopped him?

Rough hands gripped and viciously squeezed his wounded arm. Vin roared, his knees buckling as darkness swept over him. The pain itself prevented him from losing consciousness. He blinked his eyes wide as air rushed out of his lungs; a result of his chest being lifted and slammed against the saddle of a horse – tossed like an old sack of grain across it.

Chris? For one ridiculous moment he thought he’d heard…

The grip on his arms slackened, but without the support of his captors, Vin slid from the saddle, landing heavily on his backside, the fall jarring his arm. The world around him faded and he felt himself sliding down into the narrowing shadows. As the walls of the darkness closed in and started squeezing him, he fought back. He forced his eyes open, his stomach rolled and he violently expelled his stomach contents. Vin coughed twice and raised his chin, only then realizing there was silence around him. He exhaled and stared in wonder at the scene to his left.

Standing about ten feet from the rustlers was a man dressed completely in back, his feet planted a shoulder width apart. His hat was low, covering his eyes.