Sergeant Jason Gregory peered out through the window of the saloon.

"I don't trust them, Sergeant," one of his men stated. He had remained with his leader indoors. "I say we use the cannon."

"The cannon is too dignified, Tanfield. I want him to die like an animal." The two men became quiet, waiting for Chris' decision. There was dead silence on the street outside, apart from the rusty creak of the suspended sign outside the general store. Those concealed behind the cannon barricade waited with racing hearts.

Gregory's brow creased with impatience. "Larabee! You've got to the count of five to throw your guns out and come down or I'm going to order..." A shot from the roof of the telegraph office echoed through the still town. Gregory's eyes widened. Startled shouts echoed from the miners. Only moments later, there was a second shot and then, deathly silence.

"They've killed themselves!" Tanfield exclaimed.

"No! Damn him!” Jason Gregory’s rage ignited. He had been robbed of the justice that should have been his. “Go and check."

The miners rose to their feet, their eyes lifted to the roof top, each coming to the same conclusion. Tanfield stepped out of the saloon and paused, listening... waiting. When nothing happened, he jogged across the street and disappeared into the alley.

Gregory watched from the safety of the saloon. The mob outside began to exchange muttered comments. There was something altogether too sobering about the two lone shots that had destroyed the numbing silence.

Tanfield climbed up the drainpipe and leaped onto the roof, his revolver out in front of him. Crumpled in a heap directly next to each other were the bodies of Larabee and his friend. The ex-soldier took a few steps forward and spotted the blood splattered over the side the Larabee's face.

"They're dead!" he shouted.

Below, Gregory stepped into the saloon doorway and murmured, "Cowardly bastards."

Tanfield stared at the two men. He hadn't known them, but they had earn his respect. They'd fought like a dozen men and shown more courage than Tanfield had seen for a long time. Larabee's friend had remained to fight to the death despite the opportunity to leave town. That was the sort of loyalty Tanfield had only seen in the army. With the slightest shake of the head he turned and headed back across the roof.

"Tanfield!" Gregory's disembodied voice exploded. "I want Larabee's guns."

"Yes, Sergeant."

The man turned and before he could take two steps, his sergeant added, "And his trigger finger."

"What?" Tanfield's face blanketed with horror.

"Bring me the finger that bastard used to kill my brother."

Tanfield cursed. Gregory had changed since the death of his brother. He’d become obsessed. Knowing better than to argue, Tanfield strode to the corpses. Larabee was on his stomach, his head close to his friend's feet. He wasn't wearing the gun belt which was lying a few feet away. The holster was empty. Tanfield searched for the gun and realized that Chris must have fallen on it. The ex-soldier crouched beside Chris and sighed. "Sorry about this," he apologised quietly as he withdrew a hunting knife from his belt.

As he reached out for Larabee's hand, there was a distinctive click. Tanfield’s eyes grew wide. Slowly, he stood and glanced down. There was a sawn off rifle poking up between his legs.

The rifle moved to rest against his groin. "Now mister, you've got a choice. You can keep real quiet and continue to enjoy the pleasures of manhood, or you can call out to your boss and have your religion changed permanently!"

Tanfield’s breath caught in his throat and he glanced back over his shoulder to find Larabee’s friend very alive and in possession of the dangerous weapon.

Chris Larabee sat up and winked at Vin. “I told you it’d work.”

“You said they’d leave without checking us, Cowboy,” Vin pointed out. “What the hell are we going to do with him?”

“At least we’ve bought some time,” Chris muttered, peering out at the trail before turning to look up at the ghostly white face of their captive. “Crouch down,” he ordered, realizing that those below could see the man’s face.

Tanfield’s eyes widened. Vin grinned and removed his mare’s leg. Instantly, Tanfield dropped to his knees.

Gregory yelled up to this companion to hurry up.

“Answer him,” Vin prompted, pressing his mare’s leg into the middle of the other’s back.

“Hang on. I won’t be long!” Tanfield yelled.

“Have you known Gregory long?” Chris demanded, picking up his revolver and peering down on those below. The miners were collecting in the middle of the street and Gregory was still standing just inside the doorway of the saloon.

“About six years,” Tanfield replied.

“Did you know his brother?” Chris pressed.

The other shook his head.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Tanfield frowned. “You mean you really didn’t kill his brother?”

“Not that I can recall,” Chris muttered. “Vin, can you take him?” Larabee demanded, indicating the shadowy form of Gregory in the saloon.

Vin looked down and smiled. “Like lickin’ butter off a knife. Now?”

“You kill him and the others will fire the cannon,” Tanfield warned.

Chris flicked his eye from Vin to the ex-soldier, trying to decide if the claim was loyalty talking. In the other man’s face he saw fear and truth. Clearly this man believed that the rest of Gregory’s men would seek revenge for the death of their leader.

“So, does Gregory give a rat’s ass about you?” Vin demanded.

“He’s my best friend,” Tanfield stated, carefully. “We survived the war side by side.”

Vin and Chris exchanged a glance before Chris settled his attention on the captive. “We have no interest in killing you or him. We just want to get out of this with our lives. Talk to him.”

Tanfield looked from Chris to Vin and then back again. “Alright.” He drew in a breath to calm his nerves and then yelled, “Jason! Jason they‘re alive.” Immediately there was an explosion of voices from below. “Larabee says that he didn‘t kill your brother and I believe him. I think you should talk to him.”

Vin and Chris stared out through the boards waiting for Gregory’s response and watching as the miners scattered once again. “He’s lying. He killed my brother.”

“No, I didn’t,” Chris yelled.

“Stand up,” Vin prompted Tanfield.

The man did so. "Jason, I believe him. We've got the wrong man."

“We want you and your little army to get on your horses and ride out now. Otherwise, you‘re going to have to shoot straight through one of your own men,” Chris called. “What do you say?”

Gregory stepped into the doorway and glared up at the roof top. Without warning, he lifted his revolver and fired once. Tanfield catapulted backwards. Gregory withdrew yelling, “Load the cannon!”

This hadn't been what either regulator had expected.

Vin crawled across to Tanfield and clamped his hand over the gaping wound. He knew it was useless but it was a reflexive action. The wounded man stared at Vin, his face blanketed with shock. “He... shot... me. I...” Tanfield passed away with the shocking betrayal of his best friend on his lips.

“Vin!” Chris shouted. As Tanner darted back to his partner's side, they heard the sound of the cannon ball sliding down the barrel.

“This way!” Vin yelled, leading Chris across to the far corner of the facing. The cannon exploded. There was a whistling sound as the ball flew through the air. As the ball struck the middle of the facing and tore it apart, the ball exploded. Chris was thrown to the roof by the ferocious blast.

**********

The trail from Four Corners was no longer empty but contained a dust cloud approaching at great speed. The source was five horses being ridden hard.

Buck’s face shadowed. “Was that a cannon?” he shouted to the others over the thundering of hoofs.

“When they said trouble, they meant it,” J.D. called.

“How much further?” Ezra asked.

“Over that next ridge,” Buck yelled, urging his horse to give more.

**********

Larabee lay on the ground dazed, aware of burning pain in his left arm. He struggled to draw himself up, but was gently pushed back.

“Lay still, Chris,” Vin ordered, firmly. “I’ve got to stop the bleeding.“ His voice was unearthly calm. Tanner had moved beyond the point of panic and terror and into a calm zone where the situation he was facing couldn't touch him.

When Larabee’s mind cleared enough for him to understand what was happening, Vin had already bandaged his arm which had been slashed by shrapnel. Tanner examined his friend‘s slightly dilated pupils. “You okay?”

Larabee nodded, but was still disorientated. As Vin propped him up against the low wall, Chris realized that the middle of the facing board had been almost completely torn off the building. The only parts to survive were the two small corners at either end, one of which he and Vin had retreated to. The cannon ball had exploded on impact and caused a gaping hole in the roof itself. Below, the interior of the building had caught fire.

“They’re reloading the cannon. We need to move to the back of the roof. Doesn’t look like they’re interested in shooting at us any more. Morbid bastards want to blow us apart instead," Vin explained has he tended to a cut on his friend's head. "Chris? Can you hear me? Larabee?“ Vin repeated, shaking his companion once he was finished. Tanner’s frown deepened. He couldn’t seem to fully rouse his partner.

Vin’s head turned sharply at the sound of another ball being dropped into the cannon. He grabbed the stunned gunfighter by the front of his shirt and hauled him up. The cannon fired. Vin threw Chris toward the centre of the roof and dived after him just as a second ball exploded through the facing on the far left. The pair where showered with shrapnel. The ensuing explosion rung for several seconds. Flames were dancing in the shop below and licking the ceiling, heating the roof where the regulators lay.

Chris shook his head trying to clear the ringing in his ears. As he lay on his side staring out over the other roof tops, his foggy mind cleared and an idea formed. Vin was right. The rifle fire had stopped which may give them an escape route. The distance to the next roof was considerable but leapable. “Vin, come on,” Larabee urged, reaching back and patting his friend’s arm. “On to the next roof.”

Larabee scrambled to his feet, supporting his injured arm and started across the roof, calculating the distance. “We can make it,” he assured his partner.

**

Below, the miners saw Larabee appear. A few lifted their rifles, but Gregory’s shout of ’No!’ saw them lower the weapons. Most were too stunned to do anything but watch with gaping jaw.

Gregory smiled. He wanted to watch Larabee run around up there like a headless chicken - cornered with nowhere to go. He couldn’t wait to hear the gunfighter start begging for his life.

**

Above...

“I’ll go first and...” Chris turned back to elaborate further, but froze. Vin hadn’t moved. The buckskin-clad regulator was laying face down and completely still. “Vin!” Larabee darted back, dropping beside his friend. Tanner’s head was bleeding profusely, split by flying debris. Frantically, Chris rolled his partner over and lowered his ear to Vin's chest. He was alive. “Thank, God.” Larabee pulled Tanner up and attempted to stop the bleeding. Realizing there wasn't time for that, he began to shake the younger man. “Vin, wake up!”

The dreaded sound of the ball rolling down the barrel of the cannon filled his ears. Chris glanced at the roof across the alley, knowing that it held safety... at least for a while. The next shot would destroy the telegraph office. Already the girders and posts holding the roof aloft were creaking in protest. Heat from the fire below was being funnelled out of the two gaping holes in the roof caused by the first set of shots. Smoke, too, was billowing out of the punctures.

Larabee shook his friend again. He would never be able to carry Vin and leap at the same time. He had to wake Tanner but as he tried to rouse his wounded friend, reality crashed into place. The growing egg-sized lump appearing under the wound was a clear sign that Vin wasn’t simply stunned, but hurt and probably incapable of making the jump. Chris’ tortured soul screamed in agony. He had no choice.

With aching heart, Larabee slowly lowered his blood splattered friend to the surface of the roof. Vin wouldn’t be able to make the leap. Larabee squeezed his companion's shoulder in a silent goodbye. He’d never had a friend like Tanner - he never would again.

Chris rose to his feet. He didn’t want to leave Vin, but there wasn’t anything else he could do.

**********

“There!” J.D. shouted as the group reached the crest of the ridge. Below, they could see the town and the smoke ballooning from one of the buildings.

“Nathan, J.D., ride around and come in from the other end. Ezra, come in from the right. Josiah, the left. I’ll take this end!” Buck ordered as they started down the hill toward the town.

**********

Chris took one last look at Vin before turning away.

“Gregory!” the gunfighter shouted. His voice was even, despite the rage bubbling below the surface. “I’m ready to come down. Tell them to hold their fire.” Larabee’s eyes flicked back over his shoulder to Vin who was lying so still. If Gregory accepted his surrender, then Vin would be safe up here. It would take the mob below some time to enjoy killing him. He would draw it out as long as he could - scream for mercy if that would prolong it. By the time he was dead, Gregory should have forgotten about Vin. When the boys finally came, they’d find Tanner. Nathan would be able to help him. Chris had to believe that. “Gregory! I’m coming down. Hold your fire!”

All of the men on the street could see Larabee moving across the roof, framed by the grey smoke. Again, the miners rose to their feet and watched in awe as the proud man above strode toward the edge. There was no screaming for mercy and pleading for his own life. Never had they seen such bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. He was coming down to die. It was incomprehensible for most. He knew exactly what was in store for him. Surely dying quickly from the cannon blast had to be preferable.

“He’s coming down.”

“I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

“I can’t believe he’s still alive!”

“Ain't never seen a braver man.”

Gregory stepped out onto the porch of the saloon, a smile of triumph on his face. Larabee was beaten. He had hoped to hear the gunfighter beg for his life, but there was still time for that. However, Gregory’s smile faltered as he listened to the comments of those around him. The miners had had started to sober. Larabee had gone from a cowardly murderer in their eyes to some sort of hero. Gregory wanted his brother‘s murderer to die like a dog and without the respect of anyone. He needed to obliterate Larabee! “No deal. Light the cannon!”

“NO!” Chris shouted, spinning around. He lifted his revolver and took aim at Gregory. The sergeant dived back inside the saloon, Chris’ shot missing him by a hair’s width.

“Fire it! Fire it, damn you!” Gregory roared.

Chris raced across the roof and turned his gun on the barricade, searching through the conglomeration of wagons and barrels for the man about to light the fuse. Suddenly, there was rifle fire from Gregory‘s other men as they tried to cut Chris down. Larabee remained standing, firing at the barricade, unconcerned about his own safety. He had to stop the cannon from firing. It was the only way to save Vin and that was all that was important.

“Larabee, get down!” Chris was tackled, he and his guardian crashing onto the roof. As they rolled apart, Chris stared at his blood splattered friend who was dragging him toward the cover of the only standing piece of facing. Chris couldn’t believe it. Vin was awake and while pale, he looked pissed off. “What the hell were you doing?! You should have waited for me.”

“You're hurt," Chris insisted.

“This is all they’ve got left to aim at,” Tanner murmured, indicating the facing and wiping away the blood that was dripping into his eyes. His vision was slightly blurred but that was the least of his concerns. All chance of surviving was now gone. “Let’s do some damage before they finish us. I’ll cover you.”

Larabee nodded, his relief palpable. He gripped Vin’s shoulder. Tanner was okay. It was a stupid thought, considering the situation they were in, but Chris couldn’t deny his relief -- Vin was back at his side.

Tanner noted the smile on Chris' face and winked. "I had a feeling this was going to be a bad day."

They got to their feet, remaining in a crouch. “Ready?” Again their eyes came together and as they searched each other’s soul, both knew there was little point emptying their weapons at the barricade. Their bullets would not stop the cannon. If they remained here, the cannon ball would obliterate them quickly. A swift death - they couldn't ask for more.

A smile creased each man’s face. There were no regrets for either. Their arms came together and locked in a union of brotherhood. They would leave this world together.

**********

J.D. and Nathan peeled off as did Ezra and Josiah. Buck spurred his horse straight down the hill. In the distance he could see men crowded around the cannon he’d heard. Wilmington lifted his eyes in the direction of the building on fire. “Chris,” he murmured, guessing that was where his friend was.

Buck’s attention returned to those crowded around the cannon. Despite the distance, he spotted one of them light a match. Wilmington’s eyes grew wide. If Vin and Chris were atop that building, it was obvious the structure wouldn’t survive another blast. The match was lowered toward the cannon. Buck dug his spurs in... his horse increased its pace... he reached for his revolver... the flame closed on the fuse... Buck slid his gun from his holster... pulled it up... the flame brushed the wick... Wilmington shut his left eye, zeroed in on the small target and fired. The top of the wick and the match disintegrated along with the two fingers holding it. The cannon lighter screamed in agony. His companions turned, but rather than returning fire, they raced for cover. Buck Wilmington started breathing again.

**********

Vin and Chris tensed, waiting for the sound that would signal the cannon had been lit. They heard a lone shot and then shouting. Both men climbed to their knees and peered out through the bullet-riddled board they were hiding behind.

Five very familiar outlines burst into town from different directions, Buck roaring like a banshee. Vin sighed and leaned back against the wall. If he'd had the energy, he’d have cheered. “The cavalry’s here.”

Chris dropped back beside his friend. “And not a moment too soon.” Smoke was billowing around them now, both men beginning to find it difficult to breathe. “Come on. We better climb down. This roof is just about ready to collapse.” The thought caused Chris to grimace. If he'd climbed down and left Vin up here, the roof would have collapsed with his friend on it.

For several moments, neither man moved, both consumed by exhaustion. They'd been riding adrenaline for over an hour and now found themselves crashing. The reassuring sound of gunfire and shouted instructions to throw weapons down gave them peace of mind. The boys had everything under control.

“Come on,” Chris repeated, struggling to his feet.

**********

The miners threw down their weapons immediately, stunned by the sudden appearance of armed men on horseback. Gregory’s group returned fire, but were outclassed quickly. Those not wounded voluntarily relinquished their weapons.

“Chris!” Buck shouted, leaping from his saddle. “Chris, Vin?!” When there was no answer from the burning building, Buck turned to the captured men. “WHERE ARE THEY?!”

“Up there somewhere,” one of the miners volunteered.

Josiah kept his weapon on the mob while the others raced toward the inferno. “This structure is about to come down!” Ezra yelled. “This way!”

**********

Chris had difficulty descending the drainpipe - his injured arm unbalancing him. Three quarters of the way down he lost his grip and fell the final few feet. Tanner moved under him but weakened by blood loss and concussion, he failed to halt Larabee‘s momentum and both stumbled backwards and fell in a heap. They climbed to their feet slowly and leaned against the building to steady themselves. The heat from the telegraph office was considerable and the pair set off down the alley, each trying to support the other. They were met half way by their four friends whose stunned faces left the two weary regulators smiling with amusement.

Strong arms guided them to safety.

“What happened?” J.D. demanded, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Vin flicked his eyes to Chris and his bloodied face creased with a smile, while his tired blue eyes lit up with devilry. “We rode in, Chris started smilin’ at people and the natives got aggressive.”

“Huh?” J.D. asked.

“You’re just gonna keep at it, aren’t you, Tanner,” Larabee muttered.

As Vin and Chris were lowered onto the porch of the jailhouse, Ezra and J.D. raced off to lead a bucket brigade to prevent the fire spreading. When Nathan leaned over Vin and fingered the huge lump on the side of his head, Tanner started to topple to the side.

"Whooh. Easy," Nathan cried, stabilizing the tracker. "Alright, let's lay you down."

"No, I'm okay," Vin argued. He wasn't ready to concede. This wasn't over yet. Gregory still needed to be dealt with - not to mention Nelson. Tanner just wanted to wait long enough to make sure Larabee was alright before he tied up the loose ends.

Nathan frowned. "You aren't going to fall?"

"I'm alright, Doc. Take a look at Larabee. He’s got enough bruises to make a quilt. They worked him over."

“Hold that,” the healer ordered, pressing a cloth to Vin's head to stop the bleeding before turning his attentions to Chris. "Let's look at your arm."

Buck stared down at his friends. “Who's responsible?” he growled. Wilmington was an easygoing man, but seeing his friends in such a condition tried even his good nature. He wanted to know who had done this so he could explain to them the error of their ways... and carve Vin and Chris’ initials into their chests!

The wounded pair exchanged a glance. Like Vin, Chris wanted to deal with a few things personally before succumbing to Nathan’s ministrations. Larabee pushed the healer’s well-meaning attentions to the side and allowed Vin to pull him to his feet. The pair set off in the direction of mob covered by Josiah. Buck and Nathan followed their injured friends, neither trying to stop them. Both had attempted such an action in the past and knew that it would be easier on all concerned if Tanner and Larabee did what they needed to. Then, they would concede to the help they needed.

Buck and Nathan stayed close to their companions, just in case either of them fell - something Wilmington felt certain was in the cards considering their condition. Outside of the ugly lump on the side of his head and the blood splattered all over him, Tanner appeared to have survived without other injury, though he certainly wasn't steady on his feet and kept listing to the left. Larabee was a different matter altogether. He had at least two obvious wounds to the head and his face was bruised from some sort of beating. Nathan had unbandaged the slash to his arm revealing the torn flesh. Larabee's stride, too, was shorter than usual and both Jackson and Wilmington had seen him reach for his ribs several times.

Chris stopped directly in front of the tall leader of the mob who glared at the gunfighter with true hatred in his eyes. “Gregory, I don’t know your brother.”

“You shot him down in cold blood in Crow’s Nest!” the ex-sergeant spat defiantly.

“I’ve never been to Crow’s Nest.”

"You're lying!"

Vin, at Chris' shoulder, titled his head to the side and scrutinized the other man. "Why would he lie? Ain't got no reason to now. We're holdin' the guns."

For the first time, Gregory’s face flickered with doubt. “But...”

Chris shook his head in disgust. “That man you shot - a friend according to him. He died for nothing. Perhaps his brother will come looking for you.”

Gregory stared at Chris. "But..."

"Is the crime you accuse me of any less than your own?" Larabee murmured. Instantly he flicked his eyes to Josiah and a weary smile creased his lips. "I've been spending too much time around you, preacher."

Sanchez beamed a smile that split his face in two. He felt incredibly relieved. They'd made it in time... he hadn't been sure they would.

“We need a little help over here!” Ezra shouted. He'd organised some of the locals but was in need of many more hands if they were to control the blaze. “What about those men?”

Josiah signalled the group of miners whom he'd identified and separated from Gregory and his ex-soldiers. “Go on.” The group raced off to help, leaving only the sergeant and his remaining four men, most of whom were nursing wounds. "What do you want me to do with this lot, Chris?" Josiah asked.

Vin spotted Nelson cowering behind the others. His eyes narrowed and his being flooded with rage. Conversely, Nelson's eyes grew wide. Tanner climbed the two steps, shoved Gregory to the side, grabbed Nelson by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall of the saloon.

“I didn’t have any choice!” the spineless man squealed. "Larabee, tell him!"

“A man’s always got a choice!” Vin snarled.

“Vin,” Chris called from the street. Buck started up the steps to intervene, but Chris grabbed his shoulder and using it, pushed himself up onto the low porch.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t pound you to a pulp?!” Tanner demanded, oblivious to what was happening around him. Every blow Chris had endured returned to haunt Vin. He needed to take out his helpless frustration and uncontrollable rage on someone.

“Vin,” Chris repeated calmly, stepping up beside his partner.

Tanner slammed the sheriff into the wall again. The scene replayed in Vin's mind. Nelson handing the keys over. Chris shoved to the ground. Gregory's men kicking him... Larabee unable to defend himself. “You set him up!" Again, Nelson's back was slammed into the wall. "You handed him over to...”

“Vin,” Chris stated, his arm coming to rest on Tanner’s shoulder. He could feel the muscles knotted under his fingers. Larabee understood Tanner’s rage. He'd felt the same after witnessing his friend beaten not that many weeks earlier. “He isn’t worth it. Leave it.”

Vin dragged his eyes from Nelson’s terrified face and let them settle on Chris. “He set you up!”

“Let it go.” They stared at each other. It’s over, Vin. Let it go.

Tanner drew in an uneven breath and shoved Nelson as he released him. “Get out of my sight!”

Nelson shot off to the right, only to be rounded up by Josiah.

Chris nodded encouragement to his trembling friend and then they turned and stepped back down onto the street, both reaching for the other to provide support. Buck shook his head. "Stubborn pair of fools," he muttered before turning and jogging off to assist with putting out the fire.

“Put them all in jail, Josiah,” Chris called as Vin lowered him to the boardwalk to rest. Sanchez nodded and shepherded the men toward the jailhouse.

Tanner and Larabee watched them go and then Vin fell down beside his friend. The sharpshooter glanced at his companion and grimaced. “Hell, I hope I don’t look as bad as you,” he muttered. His anger had disappeared, replaced by weariness and dizziness. His head was not only swimming but throbbing.

Larabee smirked. His entire body was aching. “You look worse. Your head's bleeding again.”

Vin snorted. “This coming from someone whose face looks like it’s been used as a punching bag.” They watched as the town came to life to rescue the burning building. Several lines of people were passing buckets toward the inferno, Ezra darting hither and non, trying to organize the effort.

Nathan put down his bucket when he spotted the pair had finished their ‘pressing’ business and set about patching them up. Tanner and Larabee sat in silence, their fatigue finally getting the better of them. Jackson started by saying very little, only small grunts of concern and disgust passing his lips outside of necessary questions to ascertain the extent of his patients' injuries. Vin admitted to some light-headedness and Chris to nausea. These admissions fired up the healer who bolted headlong into a lecture.

“You both need to rest,” Nathan finished as he completed bandaging Larabee’s arm. “I’ll stitch that later. I’m going to help with the fire, but I want you two to stay here and rest.”

“I think we can manage that, doc,” Vin replied. “You're a good man, Nathan. Thanks.”

Tanner and Larabee watched the healer join the effort to put out the fire.

“Vin.”

“Yep?”

Chris waited until his friend turned toward him. “Thanks.” The word was quiet, sincere and probably unnecessary, but he wanted to say it. Vin had been prepared to risk everything. Not that Chris would have expected anything else.

Tanner smiled easily. Any time, Cowboy.

It was almost an hour before the flames were put out. Vin and Chris didn’t move, more than happy to follow doctor’s orders. Larabee actually dozed off thanks to the healthy dose of laudanum Nathan had forced him to drink earlier. That and knowing he had six men to watch his back.

Ridgewater lead a small delegation across to the bandaged pair - Vin nudging his friend to wake him. “We want to apologise for what happened and to thank you and your friends for helping to put out the fire. The whole town could have gone up. And we've saved the telegraph office. It will need a lot of work but we've still got the basic shell. It was the first building built here, you know. It was important to us that we saved it."

Chris nodded and watched with a tired smile as the locals disappeared. Ezra strolled across to the pair and appraised their injuries with his eyes. “Are you up to riding? We can arrange a wagon or stretchers,” he offered.

“Larabee said he’d like to have his ass dragged in a litter. I’m happy to ride,” Vin offered, helpfully. Chris shot his friend an amused look.

Ezra’s face creased with relief. “Then you both must look worse than you feel. Mr. Jackson has expressed concerns.”

“Nathan likes to worry,” Vin chuckled.

“Actually, I have a question, if you‘re up to fielding it. I have been conversing with several of the miners and while obviously inebriated at the time of the incident, they insist that you were tied to four horses, Mr. Larabee.”

“That was today?” Chris marvelled. It seemed so long ago.

“Yes, and that ‘your friend’ shot out all four ropes from the top of a building. They were all quite adamant. Is that true, Mr. Tanner?”

Vin shook his head. “Hell no, Ezra. I was aimin’ for his head but kept missin’. Lucky thing too. Don’t reckon Mrs Travis would have been too happy with me bringing you back with a hole in the middle of your face, Cowboy. Reckon she likes it the way it is.”

Ezra struggled to suppress his smile and failed dismally. Chris glared at him but Standish he had come to recognise the difference between the Larabee glare of aggression and Chris' stare of annoyance.

Chris flicked his narrowed eyes to Vin. “You’re just gonna keep at it until I shoot you, aren’t you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin' about, Cowboy.”

“Well, then, Mr. Tanner, I feel it is time we re-initiated our negotiations concerning your sharpshooting abilities. I feel that with your skill and my enterprising ...” Vin glanced at Chris and rolled his eyes.

**********

Buck Wilmington assisted the locals to pull down the barricade, leaving only the cannon as a stark reminder of what had taken place. The regulator drew in a deep breath and stared at the charred telegraph office. It was still standing. The damage was considerable but all knew that one more blast would have brought it crashing down. One more shot and Chris and Vin would have been history.

Buck laid his hand on the wheel of the cannon, then glanced back over his shoulder, trying to calculate the distance his bullet had travelled. It had been a hell of a shot. It was all a blur now, but he remembered thinking that if he missed, he would lose two of the best men he’d ever known.

As the regulator’s emotions settled, a smile settled spread across this features. It truly had been an incredible shot.

"Hey, Buck, you okay? We‘re almost ready to go. Nathan‘s convinced Vin and Chris to ride in a wagon we‘re borrowing. They seem okay."

Wilmington nodded, taking out a cigar and lighting it. "Did you see that shot I made, J.D.? Saved Vin and Chris. One more blast from this cannon and it would have been all over."

Dunne nodded. He'd been at the other end of town, but he'd seen Buck make the shot.

The big man beamed. "Probably the best shot this territory has ever seen."

J.D.'s eyebrows drew down. "Yeah, it was okay," he conceded.

"Okay?! Okay! Son, I made that shot from half way up that hill. Must have been a quarter of a mile."

"Bullshit, Buck. You were only a few dozen feet away."

"A few dozen feet!" Buck roared. "I was way back there. Hell, boy, everyone saw that. It was the most incredible shot this decade."

"What about that shot Vin made to save Judge Travis a couple of weeks ago?" J.D. demanded. "That was pretty damn good."

"Yeah, it was alright, but he was standing still. I was riding. My arm was bouncing up and down like this," the big man explained, demonstrating, his entire body leaping about. "And Vin had plenty of time. I had only seconds."

"So did Nathan when he threw that knife to stop Vin from hanging," Dunne pointed out. "He only had a split second."

Buck glared at the younger man. "Yeah, but that wasn't really a shot, now was it? And what about the size of my target? Not a big, thick piece of rope. A single match and from that distance!"

"I shot the fuse out when you fellas were tied up on that hill," J.D. reminded his friend. "And I was a lot further away than you were."

"Bull. Boy, I was half way up that hill when I made the shot!"

"You were not." They were facing each other, J.D. with hands on hips, Buck smoking his cigar aggressively. "You wouldn't have been able to see the match if you were that far away."

"I could see it. That fella was lowering it and it actually touched the fuse."

"It did not. It was up here when you shot it," J.D. argued, holding his hand about two feet above the cannon.

"You must be blind boy, it was right down here," Buck insisted, showing his young friend by using his cigar to represent the match and lowering it so that it was hovering just above the cannon.

J.D. grabbed his friend's hand and pulled it up. "About here."

"Down here," Buck growled, yanking his hand down.

"Up here!"

"No, down about here." Again Buck's hand was yanked, the cigar leaving a smoke trail to show the path of its movement.

**********

Vin and Chris were making their way across to the wagon when something caught Tanner’s attention. He smiled and inclined his head. "Now what the hell do you think they're doin'?" he asked.

Chris turned his attention to Buck and J.D. who appeared to be doing some sort of strange dance with Buck's cigar.

"NO, DOWN HERE!" Buck shouted. He yanked his hand down with such force that that it slammed into the cannon... and the cigar he held connected with the severed fuse. The flame took hold.

Buck and J.D.'s eyes grew wide. Both leapt forward in a futile attempt to pat the flame out. At the last possible moment they recoiled. The cannon exploded. Life in River Strike paused. All watched as the cannon ball flew through the air, shot through the open door of the telegraph office and exited through the back door. The ball exploded several dozen feet behind the building. The structure shook from the concussion of the blast.

J.D. and Buck exchanged a wide-eyed glance. The cannon ball had shot straight through the building without touching it. Both released breaths of relief. As they did so, the telegraph office roof groaned and then with an almightily creak, it collapsed inward. The entire building crumbled.

"Ohhhh, shit," Buck murmured. He flicked his eyes toward all those on the street watching in frozen horror and amazement. Wilmington swallowed and returned to staring at the flattened building. J.D. backed away and made himself scarce.

Buck heard the approach of two others. One was accompanied by the chink of spurs. Wilmington glanced to his right and left as the pair stopped on either side of him. Vin clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Ya brought the house down, Bucklin,” he chuckled. “That was a hell of a shot.”

Buck smiled sheepishly.

Chris looked at the trail leading into town. Buck had made the shot that had saved his and Vin’s life from the back of a horse, riding hard. He’d had no time to aim and yet, despite the size of the target, Buck hadn’t missed.

Larabee clapped his hand down on his oldest friend’s other shoulder. “Yep, a hell of a shot, Buck. One way or the other, it was a hell of a shot.”