"What the hell do you want from me?!" the tracker snarled without turning to acknowledge that his leader was only a half a pace behind him.

"Stop acting like a jackass!" Chris exclaimed, grabbing Vin and bodily spinning him around. As he did so, the tracker shoved his attacker away, the two ending up face to face... confronting each other out in the middle of the street before a growing audience. The animosity between them was palpable. The curious citizens of Four Corners watched with concern as two of their protectors faced off in an argument that looked like it could escalate into something serious.

The Seven’s leader was aware of the attention the dispute was drawing. "Let’s take this inside," he suggested firmly.

"Go to hell," Tanner snapped back.

"It wasn’t a request."

"Yeah well, you know what you can do with your order."

Chris’ breath caught in his throat. He didn’t tolerate such insolence from anyone... that fact was well known and probably why no one ever challenged him. Vin was different. Vin didn’t give a rat’s ass for Chris and his reputation, or so he had just claimed three minutes earlier in the saloon. The bottom line was, Tanner challenged Chris not only because he could, but because Chris allowed him to. Another man - any other man - would have caught a bullet, or at the very least, been decorating the ground by now with less teeth than he had started the day with.

The rest of the Seven collected on the veranda of the saloon, watching the confrontation with a mixture of apprehension and trepidation. The tempest between Vin and Chris had started less than an hour earlier, but had matured quickly. Very quickly. Buck shook his head with concern. For seven weeks, he and the six others had worked together without so much as a ripple of discontent between them. But watching Chris and Vin standing out there now, the big man couldn’t help feeling that the sunny skies that they had enjoyed for so long may well be coming to an end. There was a storm brewing between the Seven’s leader and second in command and it looked as though it was about to hit with all the power and ferocity of a tornado.

"Gun fight," some faceless voice shouted with excitement, alerting everyone indoors to the fact that the local gunfighter looked as though he was about to drill holes in someone. Vin and Chris stared at each other, both recognizing the absurdity of the shouted statement. One of them, they knew, had to step down. And both recognized that it couldn’t be Chris. He had a reputation. And so Vin conceded…for his leader’s sake, despite the fact that he knew that knocking Larabee’s head off his shoulders was the only thing he that could quell his raging anger... despite the fact that his chest was heaving with rage... despite the fact that Larabee well and truly deserved a dressing down... despite all of those things... Vin would never compromise the arrogant, self-opinionated, conceited, interfering bastard’s reputation. And so, without a word, the furious tracker grabbed Peso’s reins, mounted and left Chris, Four Corners and all of the other meddling rabble in his wake.

Chris remained in the middle of the street, blatantly fuming. His bottom lip was trembling with pure unadulterated fury. Not even the first few spots of rain in over a month were able to cool his boiling rage and frustration. The audience waited with baited breath. No one moved. They had never seen Larabee quite this incensed. Buck had, but that was a long time ago. Finally, without a word, the object of inspection strode toward his horse, climbed into the saddle and set off in the same direction the tracker had taken.

"Buck?"

"No, kid," the older man stated answering J.D.’s unspoken question. No, Chris and Vin may well have looked like they wanted to kill each other, and no doubt when Chris caught up with Vin they would argue….they might even throw the odd punch, but... hurt each other? Never.

"They was both pretty angry."

"Yep, they were."

"Do you think Chris will be able to convince him?" Nathan asked no one in particular.

"If anyone can, it’s Chris," Buck acknowledged with certainty. "Alright!" the scoundrel shouted to lecherous group who still lingered on the streets, almost disappointed that the gunfight they had hoped for hadn’t eventuated. "Show’s over. Go away."

**********

The heavens opened dropping its burden on the parched land. In only seconds, Chris was drenched to the skin. Cursing softly, he urged his horse on, the animal indicating that it wanted to seek shelter. Clearly it has more sense than me....and that contumacious sonofabitch tracker. Damn you, Vin. Chris knew where Tanner had probably headed. At least it wasn’t a long ride.

Dismounting and wiping the heavy rain from his eyes, Chris strode across to the bank of the creek and plonked himself down in the mud not two feet from where Vin sat.

For thirty minutes the wind and rain lashed the pair, but neither moved nor spoke. Finally, after the rain had calmed the rage that had raked his body, a long tired sigh echoed out of the drenched tracker. He turned to glance at Larabee who was sitting resolutely in a growing puddle.

"Why you sittin’ in the rain?"

"Because I feel like it," Chris snapped. "You got a problem with that?"

"Nope." Vin returned his gaze to the churning waters of the creek. He watched a twig struggle to remain afloat as the creek jolted and swelled in its attempts to accommodate the sudden influx of water. Vin felt like that twig. Like he was struggling to keep himself from going under his friends’ best intentions.

"How much longer have we got to sit here like drowned rats?" Chris demanded.

"No one invited you. You can leave any time you want."

"No, I can’t."

Why? A silent question that needed no words.

Because a friend needs me to be here. Chris waited.

"Thanks," came the soft reply he was expecting. Chris Larabee allowed a half grin of relief to emerge on his rain-streaked face. The tension between the the two men began to dissipate. "Chris?

A grunt.

"Ya do look like a drowned rat."

"Shut up Tanner. I’m in the rain. I’m cold. I’m wet and I’m sitting in a puddle."

"Yeah, I noticed that. At least I had the sense to sit on a rock."

Chris glared at his friend. "Can we go home now?"

"Can’t see why not," Vin drawled easily. He stood and turned toward the horses. There was a clamoring sound behind him, followed by a string of curses. To the tracker’s delight, he discovered that the source of the ruckus was the Seven’s illustrious leader losing his footing and nose diving into the mud. The proud gunfighter, already haggard by the rain, now found himself stretched out on the ground, mud clinging to his arms, body and face. For a split second, Vin made a valiant effort to contain his laughter... but to no avail. The sight of Larabee flapping around like a fish out of water was more than Vin could bear and so his relieved laughter flooded out of him unrestrained. Chris, unamused to say the least, glowered up at the younger man. Vin chivalrously offered his hand, but Chris shoved it away, something he was soon to regret. As the downed gunfighter struggled to get his feet under him on the muddy bank, he half fell again, his hat toppling from his head and landing in the fast running stream. Vin reacted immediately, wading into the knee-deep water and snatching the black headpiece just before the current caught it and whisked it off to Texas.

By the time Vin had climbed out of the creek, Larabee had regained his footing. He was covered from head to toe in thick red mud, a vision that Vin would remember for a long time. A fact, the younger man decided slyly, that he would remind Larabee of every time the chance presented itself. With a half grin still decorating his face, the amused tracker handed his friend the rescued hat. For several seconds they stood, staring at each other, silently apologizing for their actions.

"Reckon we should head back," Vin stated.

"Reckon so... Vin..."

"I ain’t signing it."

Chris’ brow creased with frustration. "Vin, a Governor’s pardon may be the only way."

"I ain’t signing."

Chris Larabee could feel his anger beginning to rise again. It wasn’t as if they were asking Vin to do something horrendous. They just wanted him to sign the letter that Ezra had carefully composed to the Governor. A letter explaining how Vin had been framed for a murder he didn’t commit and how the only witness had been killed. A detailed account that requested that the Governor grant the falsely accused tracker a full pardon.

"Damnit Vin. Why not?"

"’Cause it ain’t right."

"You aren’t making sense! The only thing not right here is you refusing to sign."

"If I sign it... it’ll be like I’m admitting that I did it." Chris stared at his best friend. Sometimes he just couldn’t fathom the other man’s thinking.

"Vin... "

"I ain’t signing. I ain’t guilty and I ain’t askin’ some fella I don’t know to excuse me for something I didn’t do." Larabee shook his head in frustration. He studied his companion’s determined face. A face that was railroaded with the rain that was continuing to fall around them.

"Vin, don’t you get it? It don’t matter if you’re guilty or not."

Vin Tanner’s hands balled into fists. "Well, it matters to me," the tracker grilled harshly. " I ain’t guilty, Chris, and no fancy talkin’ city-boy politician is gonna say I am."

"Look, you stubborn bastard. The Governor just might decide that you’re innocent. Did you consider that?! Hell, the way things are now, everyone thinks you’re guilty anyway."

Tanner’s eyes flashed with renewed rage. So you’re saying you don’t believe me. You think I did it?!!

Larabee studied his friend in bewildered horror. How could Vin possibly think that? Abruptly the gunfighter stepped forward and placed a firm hand on each of Vin’s proud shoulders. "Cowboy, if you told me that pigs could fly, that horses had gills and that the sky was &*%@ing purple, you know I would believe you. And I’d kill anyone who said any different." The two men stood in the unmerciful downpour, scrutinizing each other.

Finally Vin dropped his head wearily. Yeah, he knew that. He’d known it since the first moment he and Chris had exchanged that single glance the day they had rescued Nathan seven weeks earlier.

Vin your word’s good enough for me. Always has been. Always will be. You can’t tell me you don’t know that.

Vin swallowed as embarrassment and guilt pushed his anger aside. "Chris I... it’s just... what if I sign the damn letter but the Governor... " his voice trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Chris was taken back by the undisguised distress in his young friend’s eyes. Vin Tanner was a man that kept his pain buried deep. That poker face of his usually hid all sign of any grief he experienced. But for the first time, the angish he felt had surfaced in the presence of another human being. In that silent moment, standing in the drizzle, Chris understood what was going on. Vin was afraid. Afraid of officially being judged guilty. His freedom meant so much to him and he just wasn’t prepared to risk the slim hope he still held that others would believe his innocence and ultimately release him from the bounty hunters that plagued even his dreams.

"Vin I... look I know this isn’t easy for you, but for your own sake, you gotta take a chance. Will you at least consider applying for a pardon?"

The rained soaked buffalo hunter sighed deeply, his eyes never leaving Larabee’s face. "Look Chris, I ain’t stupid. I know that a governor’s pardon is probably my last... only chance of clearing this mess up, but... " Again his voice failed him. Chris squeezed his friend’s shoulder in a physical show of support that was uncharacteristic of their friendship.

"I know," the older man whispered gently. "And I understand." Vin’s distress was something that Larabee could feel to his own core. Freedom and friendship. The two things that Vin valued above all else. Now was the time to assure the young man that while one of those things was threatened, the other could not be more secure. "Of course, if you ever question my faith in you again, I’ll kick your ass." Without prompting, the two men’s hands stapled together. A full arm shake that symbolised the strength and depth of their brotherhood.

"Don’t worry, pard," Vin chuckled. "Pigs don’t fly and last I looked, horses didn’t have gills."

"And the sky?" Both knew that the question was about the pardon. Chris couldn’t just leave the issue or ignore it. It was something that needed to be discussed, but Larabee was sensitive enough to realise that it would be easier on Vin if they didn’t actually mention the pardon directly.

"I don’t know," Tanner answered honestly as they dropped their arms.

Chris nodded. He truly did understand. When it came down to it, all of Vin’s hopes and dreams of ever living a life free from peering over his shoulder, rested solely on a man he didn’t know deciding whether he was guilty or innocent.

Vin drew in a deep breath. "We’ll see," he offered.

"That’s good enough for me."

************

"I want to thank you for everything you’ve tried to do, Ezra, but... I ain’t gonna sign it," Vin calmly informed the gambler and the rest of his team mates. He and Chris had ridden back into Four Corners side by side, much to the relief of most of it’s residents. There had been some curious looks. After all, while both of them were soaked to the skin, only the Seven’s leader was decorated with mud. A lot of people were smiling on the inside, but no one laughed or even dared to smirk. They valued their lives far too much. Only one man had the balls to laugh at Chris Larabee and he’d already done so.

The soggy pair’s faces were almost relaxed as they dismounted and headed straight for the bath house.

You’re embarassing me, cowboy. Just look at you. You look like you've been wrestling in the mud. Hell, I do have my standards you know."

Open your mouth Tanner and we go back into the middle of the street so I can shoot your lousy carcass.

Following a hot bath, the two headed for the saloon to down one or two....or a couple of dozen whiskys. There they encountered the five man ‘Save Vin’ committee which started partitioning again.

"But Vin... " Nathan appealed.

"No." The tracker’s voice showed a spark of annoyance.

"Look pard," Buck started.

"Are you hard of hearin’?" Vin exploded. "I ain’t signing the letter, so you can all forget it!" With that, the young man slammed his glass down and stormed out of the saloon.

"But Mr Tanner?" Ezra cried watching the angry tracker disappear into the street. The gambler turned to glare at Larabee. It appeared that Chris’ sledge hammer attempts to persuade Vin had failed dismally. Not that Ezra had really expected anything else. Chris had all the finesse of a carbuncle. The gambler knew that he should have presented the idea himself, but the others had insisted that Larabee do it. The cultured Southern gentleman shook his head in disgust. It wasn’t going to be easy to get Vin to change his mind, now. Tanner was the most obstinate man Ezra had ever met.

"We have got to find a way to convince Brother Vin to sign."

"It ain’t the signing that’s important," Chris muttered standing up. He had watched the spectacle without comment up until this point.

"Huh?"

Larabee surveyed their concerned, but confused faces. To their credit, the only reason they were pushing so hard was because they genuinely cared, each and every one of them. But they didn’t understand that there was a more important issue at stake. Vin putting his name on the dotted line was insignificant in itself. What was important was Vin being prepared to do so. Vin being prepared to admit that he still had faith that he would secure his freedom. Chris honestly hadn’t realized that his young friend had all but given up hope of ever being free of the hangman’s noose. They had talked about going to Tascosa to clear his name, but it hadn’t been until standing in the rain that afternoon that Chris had realized that Vin really didn’t give credence to their chances of being successful. Rightly or wrongly, Larabee couldn’t help feeling responsible for his best friend’s predicament. After all, it had been his bullet that had saved Vin’s life, but destroyed his friend’s only opportunity to clear his name. The gunfighter knew that the younger man didn’t blame him. ‘Can’t clear my name if I’m dead’, that was the way Vin had put it. But it didn’t change the fact that Chris felt responsible. And it didn’t change the fact that if Ezra and the others kept pushing, Vin would ultimately dig his heels in and reject the option of ever seeking a Governor’s pardon. Tanner wasn’t stupid and while pride was not something that usually colored his actions, this was a question of self-preservation. Vin had said it himself. A Governor’s pardon was his last and only chance of ever securing his freedom. And he just wasn’t ready to face that yet.

"I think perhaps, we should return to our original plan and allow me to deal with Mr Tanner," Ezra proclaimed.

"No. Leave him be," Chris ordered. "He isn’t going to sign. He isn’t ready."

"Why?"

"Because the sky ain’t purple yet." Chris had a feeling that the heavens were going mauve and that with time and space... and gentle encouragement, the sky may well go the required color, but that would only happen when Vin was ready. At the moment, the firmament was a mixture of painful options. But the bottom line was, Vin still found the glimmer of hope he secretly held, too precious to risk. "Leave him be," Chris repeated as he turned and pushed his way through the bat wing doors of the saloon. His tone indicated that for the time being, the subject was closed and anyone wishing to reopen it would have him to deal with.

In exasperation, Ezra took the letter that he had taken hours to carefully draft and tore it up into little pieces. "If someone would care to enlighten me as to why the simple act of signing a letter could cause such hostility, then I would greatly appreciate it." Nathan and Josiah glanced at one another and then ordered the frustrated gambler a very large whisky.

Buck and J.D. rose to their feet and made their way out onto the veranda of the saloon. The rain had stopped and there was a healthy glow in the air that usually announced good tidings.

"Buck?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"Storm’s clearing."

The older man glanced up at the parting clouds and then looked over to where Chris and Vin were sitting side by side on the steps at the front of Mary’s shop. Larabee was whittling away on a piece of wood and Tanner was blowing air though his harmonica. The tempest that had indeed threatened to upset the delicate balance that the Seven shared, appeared to have passed.

"Yep, kid. I reckon you’re right."