Marshal Yates rose to his feet, his chair scraping on the bare floorboards of the primitive jailhouse. He strode across to the silent cell and smirked. He had his prey right where they wanted him - caged and unconscious.

While Yates had 'enjoyed' being a part of Tanner's capture, he held no malice toward the man. He didn't know him. His boss, Eli Joe, on the other hand, had been waiting for a reunion with Vin Tanner for some time. The bounty hunter had very effectively faded into the landscape after being ingeniously framed, which had satisfied Eli at first. With Tanner off his trail he could relax. However, as time passed Eli became more and more concerned. Joe knew Tanner's type. Vin Tanner would track him down so he could clear his name... and Vin Tanner was one man who could do it. Eli’s slumber was disturbed by images of the bounty hunter's face and so, in order to protect his sanity, Eli had recruited some men and started searching for the source of his nightmares.

The breakthrough had come when travelling through Eagle Bend. People were talking about seven men who were protecting a neighbouring town. Eli’s ears had pricked when he had heard reference to a tracker who could shoot like the devil himself. Joe was certain he had found his nemesis.

Rumours of the seven men’s exploits presented a problem. It was apparent that Tanner’s new companions would interfere in Eli's plan to silence Vin once and for all. The idea of Yates impersonating a federal marshal had been sheer brilliance and had worked like a charm. The moment Yates had identified himself, Tanner’s companions had found themselves in a quandary. They were frustrated and worried, but without an avenue of recourse unless they broke the very laws they had been entrusted to uphold. At first, it had looked like they would do just that, but after the initial shock passed, they had calmed and retired to the saloon. Since then, they appeared to have resigned themselves to the fact that they could do nothing to help their partner.

Tanner had either accepted that he had been abandoned or decided not to involve his partners for his attempt to escape earlier had been without their support. The wily man had come close to succeeding too, but for the fact that Yates had walked in at the right time. Using the butt of his rifle, he had mercilessly ended Tanner’s bid for freedom. The blow had been delivered with great force and the buckskin-clad bounty hunter had crumpled immediately. The blows that followed were quite superfluous, but were delivered with gusto. Finally, the unconscious and bleeding Tanner had then been dragged back into his cell, roughly dumped onto his cot and his hat shoved back on his head to hide the visible injury from any nosey visitors.

“He won’t give you any trouble, Ridgeway,” Yates promised. They’d worked him over just enough to ensure that when Tanner awoke he would be sore and movement difficult as he stiffened up - added security to help to take some of the fire out of the captive.

Ridgeway stood and joined his partner, his face plastered with a satisfied grin.

“I’ll bring you something back,” Yates offered as he headed for the door. “Be about an hour. Keep his friends out of here and don‘t open the cell. Tanner's resourceful, even in that state.”

Ridgeway nodded, walked back to the desk and leant against it, watching Yates disappear. He took out his revolver and began to fiddle with it absentmindedly. He didn't like the idea of waiting around, but Yates had insisted. It was what a real marshal would do. He'd stay and get some rest before escorting his prisoner back to Tascosa. While Ridgeway accepted that, he couldn't wait to be clear of Four Corners and its regulators. If Tanner’s companions found out the truth - that Yates and his deputies were just common horse thieves working for Eli Joe, Ridgeway was certain they wouldn’t get out of town alive. Thankfully, in just a couple of hours they would be riding out and Tanner would swing the moment they met up with Eli.

The thought brought another smile to Ridgeway’s unshaven face. He enjoyed hangings. He loved watching the victim struggle...listening to their strangled gasps... watching their faces turn blue. Tanner was a real fighter. He would struggle like a wild animal. It would take a long time for him to die.

The sound of jingling spurs approaching drew the horse thief’s attention. Ridgeway holstered his weapon and stepped into the doorway, blocking the entrance. He found himself staring into the harsh face of one of Tanner’s companions. This one had visited a number of times throughout the day. There was something about the man dressed completely in black that caused the hair on the back of Ridgeway’s neck to prickle. All six of Tanner’s friends were threats, but this man scared the hell out of Ridgeway. Clearly, Chris Larabee was not a man to be crossed. Thankfully, not even he had been prepared to take on a federal marshal.

“The marshal said no visitors while he’s out of the office,” Ridgeway informed the gunfighter, carefully. “Besides, Tanner’s sleeping. Gonna need all the rest he can get for the journey back to Tascosa.”

Chris Larabee’s eyes hardened. “I have a message for him.” The voice was soft... dangerous. Like that of a cobra waiting to strike.

“You give it to me and I’ll pass it on when he wakes up,” Ridgeway suggested, nervously. If Larabee found out Tanner was unconscious...

Chris glared at the other man. Anger, frustration and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness had risen to the surface above the plethora of others vying for supremacy. The last time Chris had felt anything similar was immediately after the death of his wife and son. Then, the emotions had been suffocating and had consumed him. He couldn’t let that happen now. He needed to remain focused and in control if he was to save his best friend’s life.

Larabee’s nebulous bond with Tanner allowed him to sense his friend’s dread, despite the hard expression Vin was showing the world. Vin was a brave man - one of the bravest Chris had ever known, but this was the young man’s worst nightmare coming to fruition. Attacked, overcome, caged and then... strung up like some mangy dog. Vin was not someone who should be caged and Chris understood better than anyone that every moment in the cell was hell for his best friend.

Mary had wired the Judge, but Chris suspected that there was little Travis would be able to do to help Vin. Saving his best friend’s hide was in Chris’ hands alone. The boys would play their part after the fact, but initially, it was up to Chris.

Larabee took a step closer to the man blocking access to his brother in arms. No one was going to stop him standing with Vin when he needed him. No one. Not even a federal marshal. Not even Vin.

Ridgeway opened him mouth to protest, but Chris took another step, bringing his face less than three inches from Eli’s henchman.

These men had walked into Larabee’s town, had arrested his friend and taken over his job. While Chris knew he needed to bide his time before attempting a rescue, his ability to keep his temper in check was crumbling. “You can either get of out of my way under your own steam, or I’ll toss you into the street.” The threat was soft, but contained the sort of venom that left even the strongest men quaking in their boots. Today was no exception.

Ridgeway wilted, licked his lips and backed into the office. Chris tipped his hat, his cold eyes locked on the deputy’s ruddy face as he walked toward the cells

“He’s sleeping,” Ridgeway repeated.

Chris snorted. Vin and sleep were antonyms. Larabee stopped in front of his friend’s cell. The tracker was lying on the small cot on his side and facing the wall. “Vin? You want something to eat?”

Silence.

Ridgeway bit down on his lip nervously, his eyes darting toward the door praying one of his three companions would return.

Larabee’s brow furrowed. “Vin?” He took a step to the right, peering through the bars. Tanner didn’t move. For a split second the gunfighter suspected that the tracker may be playing possum in an effort to have the door opened so he could escape, but why would he do that knowing Chris was there? It didn’t make sense. “Vin?” Larabee’s voice rose with concern. “Vin, you alright?” There was no sign of life from the buckskin-clad bundle. “Open this!” Larabee snapped at the deputy.

Ridgeway’s face blanketed with terror. “I can’t. I...”

Chris spun around and his bright green eyes flashed with an intensity that left no room for negotiation. “OPEN IT!”

Ridgeway swallowed and shot forward, pulling the heavy iron keys from his pocket. He fumbled with them as he tried to open the lock - one eye on the lock and one on the dangerous man beside him.

Larabee’s attention returned to Vin. He couldn’t see him breathing. Tanner was wanted dead or alive and a dead man was easier to transport. He should have thought of that, but Yates hadn't seemed the type. Overcome with dread, Chris shoved Ridgeway out of his way, unlocked the cell himself and rushed to Vin’s side.

“Vin!” He reached down and roughly dragged Tanner onto his back. Vin's head rolled to the side and his hat slipped to the ground revealing the bloodied wound behind his left ear.

“Bastards!” Larabee cried. He leaned forward, lowered his head to Vin’s chest and listened. To his relief he heard the soft intake of breath. As Chris examined the injury, his rage built. It wasn't a bullet... thank, God. However, there was no need for this. None whatsoever.

“What the hell happened?” the gunfighter demanded of Ridgeway without taking his eyes from Vin’s ashen face. Swiftly, he removed the kerchief from Vin’s neck and pressed it against the wound to stop the blood still oozing from it.

“He tried to escape and...”

“Nathan Jackson. Go and get him,” Chris growled as he removed the kerchief, grabbed the blanket that had been dumped on the floor and rolled it loosely.

“But...”

Chris raised his eyes to the protesting man, the look on his face one of unadulterated rage. “Go and get Nathan.”

“But I don’t know who he is and I’m not supposed to leave the...”

“FIND HIM!”

Ridgeway paused for only a second before racing off to follow the shouted order.

Chris gently lifted Vin’s head and eased the blanket under it. Then, he picked up the kerchief and pressed it back against the ugly wound before removing it again. He titled Vin’s head to the side so he could examine the bloodied lump more closely. It was on the back of Tanner’s head and the size of a small fist. Under the long trusses of hair, bruising was already evident, spreading like a spider's web around the egg. Whoever had hit Vin had hit him hard. An injury like that could do serious damage. Chris had seen men die from less.

Silently, Larabee berated himself for leaving his friend unprotected. He had misjudged Yates. He had believed that the marshal would take Vin in alive. He no longer believed that.

“Vin?” Chris gently patted his friend’s cheek, trying to bring him around. The pallor of Vin’s face was a stark contrast to the usual tan of his skin. When Tanner failed to respond, Larabee increased his efforts to match his growing alarm. “Vin? Damn it, come on Tanner.“

Finally, the injured man stirred. Chris gave silent thanks. “Come on, Vin,” he encouraged, his voice riddled with relief. Abruptly, the tracker shot upright, his fist rocketing toward Larabee. Chris blocked the weak blow easily. “Whooh, easy, Cowboy.”

Vin blinked at him.

“It’s okay,” Chris repeated, reaching for his friend’s arm. Tanner stared at him in confusion, blinking steadily and then his body slumped without his consent as his energy deserted him in a rush. Larabee caught his dizzy companion and held him upright for a few seconds. When it became obvious Vin didn’t have the strength to sit up, he lowered him back to cot.

“Chris?” Vin asked, disoriented. His head was spinning out of control and nausea swept over him like a wave. He gagged, trying to hold it down. All the while, he struggled weakly against the caring hands that restrained him.

“Relax. It’s me. Vin, it‘s me,” Chris repeated.

Vin stared around himself and ceased in his efforts to escape as he assimilated Larabee’s voice. Gradually his mind cleared and he remembered where he was. Tanner’s eyes shut briefly. The nightmare continued.

“You okay?” Chris demanded with increased concern.

“Yeah... I... ah, hell.”

His friend’s brow furrowed with sympathy.

“Gonna have my neck stretched,” Vin whispered. It had come without prompting. Once again he was opening up to the one person he trusted and knew would understand.

“Over my dead body.”

Vin’s dazed eyes focused on Chris. “Exactly, Larabee. So keep out of it. My business, my problem.”

“You want to tell me what happened?”

Vin attempted to swallow and realized his throat was parched. “Thirsty.”

“I’ve sent for Nathan. Just wait for a bit,” Chris squeezed Vin’s shoulder. “So, what happened? Why'd they attack you?”

Vin shut his eyes. “Saw my chance to get the hell out of here and took it.”

Larabee nodded in frustration. He had suspected as much. “You should have waited. The boys and I are working on getting you free” Chris growled.

Vin sighed and shut his eyes. The spinning eased a little. “Yeah, I know, but... Ain‘t nothing any of you can do now, Cowboy. He’s a federal marshal. I‘m gonna swing.” There was bitterness in his deep voice. No fear... not that there had been fear earlier, but it was obvious that Vin had come to terms with what he perceived as his destiny.

Chris released his grip of Vin’s shoulder, recollected the kerchief and pressed it against the injured man’s bleeding head. Vin recoiled instinctively, a deep grimace settling on his features. Larabee cupped the left side of Vin's skull in his hand and pressed the cloth against the right. “I’ve already told you, I’m not going to let that happen.”

“He’s a federal marshal, Chris.”

“I don’t care who he is.”

Vin’s eyes opened. “You do anything and they’ll hunt both of us down.”

Larabee said nothing. He didn’t need to. Vin studied Chris’ face and recognized the determination and ultimate pledge. “I ain’t asking you to risk you neck for me, Chris.”

“I know.” You don't need to ask.

They were interrupted by Nathan rushing into the building. Ridgeway had found the healer and mumbled something about Larabee wanting him in the jail. Jackson had been suspicious, but had shot off once the messenger admitted that Vin was hurt. “Chris? What happened?”

Larabee rose to his feet and moved out of Nathan’s way, handing the healer the bloodied kerchief. "He tried to escape."

Jackson crouched down and then let his eyes run over Vin’s body. He reached out and probed the wound, checking for signs of a fracture.

Vin winched. “Damn, Nathan.”

“That’s a hell of a lump. What did they use? A rifle butt? You're gonna need half a dozen stitches. Your vision clear?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

“Nausea?”

“What?” Vin asked, not comprehending the word.

“Do you feel sick?”

“I'm thirsty. Stomach’s not happy,” the injured man admitted. Jackson placed his fingers on Vin's mid-section and Tanner jumped, his pale face tightening with intense discomfort. Chris stepped forward. Nathan glanced up at the gunfighter and the pair shared a knowing glance before the healer began to unbutton Vin’s faded shirt.

“They beat you?”

Vin shrugged. “Don’t remember it. Probably after I was out,” he admitted. Nathan pulled the shirt back to reveal well defined boot marks imprinted in the developing bruises on Vin’s battered body.

Chris cursed and crouched down beside Vin. “Mongrels.” If Yates wasn’t a federal marshal, Larabee would have returned the favour ten fold.

“Chris, I need to go and get a few things from my clinic,” Nathan stated, rising to his feet. "Get him some water. Vin, hold this against your head to stop the bleeding," Nathan ordered, picking up Vin's hand and placing it over the cloth. "Okay?"

"Yeah."

As the healer turned, Yates, Ridgeway and the marshal’s other two deputies entered the jailhouse. Chris stood up. Something deep down inside Chris went off like a firecracker. His cheek twitched as he fought for control. It took every ounce of restraint the gunfighter possessed not to go out there and tear the four men apart with his bare hands. For several seconds there was a tense stand-off.

Nathan was the first to move. He exited the cell and walked directly up to Yates. “You want to explain that?” he demanded.

“He tried to escape.”

“And so you beat on him when he was unconscious?” Jackson growled.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Yates replied, calmly. “However, I want everyone out and that cell locked.”

Chris strode from of the barred cubicle. Yates recognized immediately that Larabee wasn't actually complying with his orders, but had some agenda of his own.

“Nathan’s a healer. He’s going to treat him. You got any objections to that, Marshal?” The threat hung in the air. A real threat from a man who could carry it out. The pearl handled gun on his hip became the focus of attention.

“No, no objections. I want him fit to travel,” Yates agreed, turning to Jackson.

Nathan exchanged a glance with Chris and then went to collect what he needed. When he returned, Chris was back in the locked cell with Vin and only Yates and Ridgeway were in the office. They let the healer in and Nathan set to work.

With Chris' help he sat Vin up, a gasp escaping the injured man. He was given water and then the healer bathed the wound and stitched it. He applied some liniment to the bruises and finally, he forced a small amount of laudanum into his patient. Vin protested, explaining he needed to be fully aware. He won the argument with Nathan but lost it to Chris. Larabee gave him a choice. Either he took it willingly or..."I'll force it down your fool neck." It hadn't been that, though that had changed Tanner’s mind. It had been the hushed statement that had followed. "I need you rested and ready when I make my move."

Once Nathan had done all he could, he shook Vin’s hand warmly and signalled for the door to be opened. “Try to get some rest. If you start to feel worse, send for me.”

“Thanks, Nathan,” Vin acknowledged. There was genuine appreciation in his soft voice.

Chris, who was seated beside Tanner, also rose to his feet and offered his arm. Vin’s snaked along it and they gripped each other’s forearm. The simple action symbolized not their friendship, but their complete trust and faith in each other. A brotherhood the likes of which neither had ever experienced before and knew they never would again.

The two men’s eyes met.

Vin released his breath slowly and felt Chris apply extra pressure. Tanner nodded.

They dropped their arms and Chris followed Nathan out of the cell.

“We’ll be leaving in the morning,” Yates informed the two men. “I give you my word that I'll do what I can for him once we get back to Tascosa.”

Vin snorted loudly.

Before Chris could comment, Buck strode into the room like a whirlwind. Wilmington was one of those people who simply couldn't enter a room quietly. Every part of him moved, creating a spectacle all its own. When Nathan had left to collect his medical bag earlier, he had run into Buck and had informed him of what had happened. Wilmington had been outraged and had decided that something needed to be done to protect their imprisoned friend.

“Howdy boys.” The big man grabbed one of the chairs, dragged it to the opposite side of the room, sat down, learned back, crossed his legs at the ankles and laid his rife across his lap.

“What’s this?” Yates demanded.

“Ole Vin can be a handful,” Buck admitted. “Wouldn’t want him attempting to escape again. Not good for him by the look of it and not good for the town. Thought you fellas could use a hand watching him.” Buck’s eyes flicked from Yates to Chris. The latter’s head bobbed once. He approved.

“Alright,” Yates agreed also, moving around behind the desk and sitting down. Larabee walked across to his oldest friend. “Go on,” Buck encouraged. “You get some sleep. You’ve got a big day ahead tomorrow,” he whispered. They hadn't discussed it, but Buck knew Chris would follow Yates and his men out and when the opportunity presented itself, he would rescue Vin. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Chris nodded and his face flooded with thanks. Chris glanced back at the injured man who was still seated watching what was unfolding. “Try to get some sleep.” You won't see me, but I'll be there.

No words. In a situation like this, they didn’t need them. Nathan and Chris turned and strode from the building. A few moments later, Buck rose, walked across to Vin and lowered his voice. “I’ve got you back, pard,” he stated earnestly. “You lay back and get some rest. Josiah will take over in a couple of hours. Then Ezra. We‘ve got it covered.”

Vin stared into big man‘s face. He saw nothing but sincerity and determination. “Thanks, Buck.”

Tanner sighed and lay back as instructed, a soft, involuntary groan forced from him. He felt dreadfully tried. His head was still throbbing and his very being was aching, but for the first time since Yates and his men had jumped him, his mind was at ease. The boys would watch his back and Chris... Chris would do whatever it took. They would stand together. Secure in these thoughts, Tanner succumbed to his body’s need for rest.

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© Sept 2004 Aussie Lass : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to MGM and Trilogy Entertainment and thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.