Part One

Chris stepped out of the saloon frowning. He surveyed the street, watching as the citizens of Four Corners went about their mundane business. His attention was drawn to Potter’s store, for absolutely no reason other than there was movement over there. Vin Tanner paused on the porch outside the shop and pulled his hat on. The dusty tracker shoved whatever it was he had purchased into his pocket and started down the stairs and across the street with long even strides.

Abruptly, J.D. appeared out of the alley further down, his jaunty gait echoing the youthful enthusiasm that permeated his every action.

"Hey, Vin!" the youth called with excitement. Tanner turned to face his young comrade in arms.

A dog barked somewhere in the background, pronouncing its discontent.

"Look what I found!"

"Whatcha got there, pard?" Vin asked, strolling back toward the ecstatic sheriff with those long relaxed strides of his.

Chris shook his head. So this was his life?! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man in a long navy coat step off the porch outside the post office. Chris’ eyebrows drew down in consideration. He hadn’t seen this stranger before.

The dog barked again. Damn mongrel!

Chris returned his attention to the tall stranger. The Seven’s leader hadn’t seen the outsider ride in. None of the boys had mentioned him and Chris felt sure they should have. The gunfighter frowned. There was something about the tall man that Chris decided he didn’t like. Strange, because Chris couldn’t see his face and normally it was a man’s face, or more correctly, a man’s eyes that allowed Larabee to make that sort of judgement. The gunfighter watched the topic of his interest take two steps and stop at the side of the street.

"Hey, Chris?" Buck called from his right.

Then the soul wrenching sound of a rifle firing three times in quick succession. Vin Tanner’s body lifted into the air and flew several feet, before coming to rest in an untidy heap.

"NOOOOOO!" Chris pleaded. His own gun snapped into his hand as he ran toward his fallen friend.

"Stand back, mister," the man in the navy coat, ordered. "That’s my property. Worth $500!"

Larabee swiveled, aimed, shot the murdering bastard and then continued on his plight toward Vin. Vin who was laying so still.

J.D. had crouched beside his wounded team mate, quickly turned him over and was trying desperately to stop the blood flow that was gushing from the three gaping holes in Vin’s chest.

"Get Nathan!" Chris roared at the crowd that was collecting on the edges of the street.

Falling to his knees, Chris surveyed the damage. It was bad. Real bad! But Vin’s eyes were wide open and searching for one person.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, Vin, I’m here. I’m sorry. I was unsighted. I didn’t see his gun!"

"S’okay," Vin grimaced. There was a distant look in the tracker’s eyes that was more overpowering than the pain on his face.

"Vin, you hold on now. Nathan’s coming."

"Not this time, Chris," Vin gasped softly.

"Stop your talkin’ and save your strength," Chris ordered as his huge hands covered J.D.’s in a futile attempt to stop the life giving liquid escaping from Vin’s slight frame.

"I’m sorry, Chris. I wasn’t intendin’ on leavin’ ya so soon."

"Shut-up, Vin. Just lay there and keep breathing." Vin’s chest shuddered involuntarily as his lungs fought to do just that. Chris stared down at his best friend’s ashen face.

The young man reached his hand up and placed it in on Larabee’s arm. "I’m sorry, Chris. It wasn’t a long ride, but I enjoyed it. Wouldn’t change one minute of it."

J.D.’s gaze moved from Vin to Chris, horrified. He realized that Vin was saying good-bye.

"Hang on Vin, Nathan’s coming!" the youth yelled. Or at least he had intended to yell. The only thing that came out of his mouth was a terrified squeak.

"Vin...." Chris started.

"I’ll look after Sarah and Adam for ya. But you take your time, ya here. We’ll be waitin’." The grip on Chris’ arm weakened.

"Vin, hang on. Where the hell is, Nathan?!!" the agitated gunfighter shouted at Buck and Ezra who had moved up to stand over their fallen team mate like sentries.

"He’s comin’, Chris. He’s comin’," Buck offered quickly.

Larabee nodded and turned back to his injured friend.

"Ya hear that? Nathan’s comin’!"

Chris and Vin stared at each other. The look they shared, like so many others in the past, spoke volumes.

Don’t you go blaming yourself. It’s just my time is all.

‘I’m....sorr..." Vin’s hand slipped from Chris’ arm. The young tracker’s eyes flashed one last, silent message of friendship for the man he loved like a brother and then Vin Tanner slipped painlessly into the next world.

"Vin? Vin!! Vin don’t go! Dammit, it ain’t your time!!!" Chris shoved J.D. back as he scooped Vin’s limp form up in his arms. "Dammit, breathe! Vin, breathe!!" But it was useless. He knew that life had deserted his best friend. "No, Vin. It ain’t your time," Chris whispered. "Oh, God. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"...........................

Chris Larabee’s body snapped into a sitting position. He swallowed several times, knowing that he had been calling out.

"Oh, shit!" he cursed. He’d had it again. The same damn nightmare! A string of further curses echoed out of the gunfighter’s sweat soaked body.

‘Dammit to hell.’ It was the fourth time this week. The strange thing was, he couldn’t actually remember any details. Just that he always woke up screaming and........and somehow he knew Vin had died in his dream. He didn’t know the circumstances, but he knew that that was the reason he was waking up screaming.

"Chris!!" Vin’s voice.

Larabee climbed out of his disheveled bed and moved quickly to the window. The torches that were lit each evening were flickering silently on the dark street below. Directly beneath Chris’ window, he could make out Vin. Holding his pants up with one hand, his rifle in the other.

"You okay?" the young man yelled urgently, his voice echoing in the still night. He’d heard Chris yell out and had immediately set out to investigate.

Larabee opened the window. "I’m fine."

"Heard ya yell."

"Dream."

"Go to sleep!" some faceless voice shouted from the boarding house.

"Go to hell!" Vin returned loudly. "You sure you’re okay, Cowboy?"

"Yeah." Tanner stood for a few more seconds, scrutinizing Larabee with his calm blue eyes and then he nodded and headed back to his wagon.

Chris closed the window and moved across the room to the wash basin. Aggressively, he splashed water onto his face. He stood for several seconds waiting for his breathing to return to normal. What the hell had he dreamt?

Minutes later, the emotionally exhausted man returned to bed. And minutes later, he was back in hell. Walking out of the saloon. Surveying the street. Watching Vin come out of Potter’s. Pull his hat on his head. J.D. appearing out of the alley. Calling out to Vin. The dog. Vin turning toward J.D. The man in the navy coat. The bastard in the navy coat! That damn dog again. Buck calling his name. The shots. Vin falling..............

"Stand back, mister. That’s my property. Worth $500!"

Larabee swiveled, aimed, shot the murdering bastard and then continued on his way toward Vin. Vin who was laying so still.

J.D. had crouched beside his wounded team mate, trying desperately to stop the blood flow that was gushing from the three gaping holes in Vin’s chest.

"Get Nathan!" Chris roared.

Falling to his knees, the gunfighter surveyed the damage. It was bad. Real bad! But Vin’s eyes were wide open and seaching for one person in particular.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, Vin, I’m here. I’m sorry. I was unsighted. I didn’t see his gun!"

"You didn’t see his gun?"

"I was unsighted. I’m sorry. I was watching him, but I didn’t see his damn gun."

"S’okay," Vin grimaced. There was a distant look in the tracker’s eyes that was more overpowering than the pain on his face.

"Vin, you hold on now. Nathan’s coming."

The young man reached his hand up and placed it in on Larabee’s arm. "I’m sorry, Chris. It wasn’t a long ride, but I enjoyed it. Wouldn’t change one minute of it."

."Vin...." Chris started.

"I’ll look after Sarah and Adam for ya. But you take your time, ya here. We’ll be waitin’." The grip on Chris’ arm weakened.

"Vin, hang on." Chris and his best friend stared at each other, sharing words that no one else could hear or would understand.

Don’t you go blaming yourself. It’s just my time is all.

‘I’m....sorr..." Vin’s hand slipped from Chris’ arm. The young tracker’s eyes flashed one last silent message of friendship for the man he loved like a brother and then Vin Tanner died on the dusty streets of Four Corners.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Angrily, Chris grabbed his revolver and headed downstairs. He had a bad feeling. He didn’t know what or why. But he could feel it to his core. Something was wrong and he damn well intended to check and make sure he was wrong.

Striding out of the boarding house, he made his way toward the beaten up old wagon at the end of the street. He didn’t get near half way over, when Vin’s head and rifle popped out of the back flap.

"Chris?" the young man asked, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Larabee continued walking, coming to a halt only six feet from Vin.

The younger man eyed his friend’s poker face. "You okay, Chris?"

"Shut-up!" ‘Dammit to hell, he’s alright!’

Tanner’s eyebrows peaked curiously at his friend’s explosive response. Cantankerous bastard. Damn you! "Well, let me alone so ‘I’ can get some sleep!"

"Ain’t no one stoppin’ ya," Chris growled, more aggressively than he intended.

Vin shook his head and disappeared, cursing softly and passionately as he went. Chris allowed a long sigh of genuine relief to echo out of his tense body. He didn’t know why he had been so all fired sure that Vin needed his help.

"You gonna stand out there all night?" Vin’s disembodied voice inquired with irritation.

"Ain’t none of your business!"

A split second later, a buckskin coat flew out of the back of the wagon and hit Larabee square in the face. The gunfighter glanced down to discover that he was barefoot and dressed in little more than his underwear.

"And I want it back!" Vin’s muffled voice barked from behind the canvas flap.

**********

A WEEK LATER

"Vin?" Buck called, striding up to the young man as he dismounted in the livery.

"What’s up, pard?" The tracker had been out of town for three days doing some work for the army. He felt tired and dusty and longed for a bath and a few hours sleep. But from the look on Buck’s face, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

His mustached friend stared at him intently and then shook his head as if the words he was about to say were difficult. ‘It’s Chris. He’s been wandering around for the past two days scaring the living shit out of everyone."

"So what’s so different about that?" Vin drawled.

"No, Vin," Buck appealed, grabbing the young man’s arm and spinning him around. "I ain’t seen him like this for a long time."

Vin glanced at Buck’s hand that was still holding him firmly and instantly, Buck withdrew it. Vin didn’t like to be touched. Not by anyone.

"He’s just tired," the tracker offered.

"Huh?"

"He ain’t been sleepin’ well. Nightmares, I think. At least he was havin’ them before I left."

Buck’s eyes clouded as he searched his brain for an event that may be coming up that could cause something like that. It wasn’t Sarah’s or Adam’s birthdays. It wasn’t Sarah and Chris’ anniversary. It wasn’t the anniversary of the day Larabee’s wife and child had died. It wasn’t the anniversary of the day Chris and Sarah had met.

"I don’t know what it could be," the scoundrel muttered. Then he lifted his eyes to Vin. "Would you talk to him?"

Vin, who had turned back to unsaddle Peso, paused. "Don’t know that it’s my place."

"Come on, Vin. You’re his friend. Who else’s place should it be?!"

Vin glanced at Buck and lifted the saddle off his horse. "Look, Buck...."

"Vin, he ain’t gonna listen to me. But you. You, he might just take notice of. Now, I’m beggin’ ya. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but I do know this. If we don’t find out what it is, he’s gonna turn to a bottle and then someone is likely to get hurt. I’ve asked him, but the only thing I can get out of him is threats. He’ll listen to you."

Vin sighed. "Alright, I’ll talk to him."

Buck Wilmington grinned. "Good boy. And don’t worry. If he shoots ya, I’ll have J.D. arrest him."

Vin scowled at the other man and then headed for the saloon. He slipped through the batwing doors and was surprised to see that the room was completely empty. Well, almost completely empty. Sitting at ‘his’ corner table was the Seven’s black clad leader. In front of him, one empty bottle and one half full one.

Buck hadn’t been exaggerating. Larabee must be in a powerful mood to have chased all of the seasoned drinkers away.

The tracker strode across to the table and settled into one of the chairs.

"I don’t remember inviting you to my table," Larabee hissed.

"Don’t remember ever having to ask for permission."

The enraged gunfighter lifted his eyes briefly from his glass to give Tanner the coldest, hardest stare on record. A look like that could tear the hide off a buffalo. Thankfully, Vin Tanner’s hide was somewhat thicker.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Don’t go there!" Larabee growled.

"Doesn’t look like I need to. You’re already there."

"Vin....."

"What? What are you gonna say? You gonna threaten me like you did Buck when he was tryin’ to help ya? Or are ya gonna try and scare the shit out of me like you have everyone else this mornin’?"

"I’m warnin’ you!"

"Stuff ya warnin’! I hope the hell we don’t have any trouble ride into town today, because you ain’t gonna be worth shit to us!"

Chris leaped to his feet, his revolver snapping into his hand. The moment he realized what he was doing, his eyes clouded with shock and confusion.

"Sit down, pard," Vin ordered quietly. "You ain’t about to shoot me." Chris stared at Vin and then, for a split second, he looked as though he was about to turn and leave. "Reckon you should stay here and cool down. How much have you drunk?"

Chris Larabee collapsed into the chair and shook his head. "Not enough, " he muttered.

Vin picked up the bottle in front of him and rose to his feet. "You drink all of that other one this mornin’ too?"

Chris glanced at the bottle and shook his head. "Took it from Buck. It was almost empty." Vin studied the bottle he held and nodded. Looked like his friend had downed a little less than half a bottle. In other words, Chris wasn’t drunk at all. Just remarkably angry.

"You gonna tell me what’s wrong?"

"I would if I knew!" Vin watched his friend shake his head. "Damn nightmares, Vin. Don’t know what the hell they’re about, but......every fucking night for almost two weeks. And the stupid thing is, I haven’t the faintest idea of what I’m dreamin’ about." The gunfighter’s voice dropped to a whisper. "It’s got to the stage that I ain’t game to close my eyes." There was not another living soul that he would admit something like that to.

Vin sank down into the chair. "How long since you’ve slept?"

"Don’t know, a couple of days."

Vin frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I reckon if you get tired enough, you’ll sleep."

"Thanks a whole hell of alot."

The young tracker smiled. "Look, I got to get a piece for Peso’s bridle and then hows about we ride out to your ‘hovel’." Chris found a grin weaving its way onto his lips. Vin always called Chris’ small cabin a hovel. Only because he knew that Chris hated it. In less than five minutes, his best friend had lifted the cloud of despair and isolation that Chris had been drowning in. "Maybe you just need a change of scene. I’ll help ya take some supplies out there. Enough for a couple of days. The boys and I can keep an eye on things here. You go out there and get yourself some rest. Maybe you should invite Mary to go with you?" Innocence oozed from the last few words.

"Tanner!"

"Oh, that’s right you want to get some sleep. Don’t reckon sleep would be real high on the agenda if you and Mrs. Travis were out there all alone," the young man’s eyebrows bounced suggestively.

"Tanner!!"

"I won’t be long. I could pass on your invitation to Mary for ya, if you like? Wouldn’t be no trouble," Vin added helpfully.

"Tanner!!!"

"At least think about it. I’ll meet ya in the livery in half an hour and we can load up with what ya think you’ll need."

With that, the young man strode out of the saloon, depositing the half full bottle of whisky on one of the other tables before he disappeared.

Chris sighed. Maybe Vin was right. Maybe he just needed to get out of town for a while. And as for Mary.........well, that was something that he’d been thinking about a lot lately. But every time he got close to askin’ her, something stopped him. He knew what it was. The fact of the matter was, he still loved Sarah........no, he was still ‘in love’ with Sarah. How could he consider a relationship with another woman while he was in love with someone else? Even if that person had been dead for three very long years.

Thirty minutes later, Chris stepped out of the saloon frowning. He surveyed the street, watching as the citizens of Four Corners went about their mundane business. Several eyed him tentatively. He dipped his hat, the smiles of relief on their faces leaving his guilt stinging.

‘Have I been that much of an asshole?’ he wondered.

His attention was drawn to Potter’s store, for absolutely no reason other than there was movement over there. Vin Tanner paused on the porch outside the shop and pulled his hat on.

Chris froze. He suddenly had a sense of Deja Vu.

The gunfighter watched as his friend shoved whatever it was he had purchased into his pocket and started down the stairs.

Bile began to rise in Larabee’s stomach. He had the sickening feeling that something was wrong. But why?

Abruptly, J.D. appeared out of the alley further down.

"Hey, Vin!" the youth called with excitement. Tanner turned to face the young man.

A dog barked somewhere in the background.

Chris swallowed. He no longer felt like he was a part of what was happening. It was like he was watching it unfold.

"Look what I found!"

"Whatcha got there, pard?" Vin asked, strolling back toward the ecstatic sheriff.

Chris’ head snapped to the right for no reason. There, he saw a man in a long navy coat step out into the street. Chris had seen him before, he realized. In his nightmare!

The dog barked again. Images began to flash in front of Chris’ racing mind. The tall stranger. Rifle shots. Vin falling. Jesus Christ! He knew what was going to happen!!

"Hey, Chris?" Buck called from his right.

Chris Larabee drew his gun and fired it six times. The stranger in navy catapulted to the ground, his body riddled with the bullets that had exploded from Larabee’s gun.

"Holy Mother of God!" Buck yelped. Vin Tanner and J.D. Dunne had both spun around, their guns ready to assist, but assistance certainly wasn’t needed.

Ezra Standish, who had been walking not five feet from the dead stranger, rushed forward and turned the man over. Clasped in one of his hands was a Wanted Poster, with a very familiar picture and name on it. In the other was a gun. The hammer was actually cocked. There was no doubt about it, this bastard had been about to shoot Vin Tanner in the back!

The gambler looked over toward Vin, back at the gun and then up toward Chris who had not moved a muscle.

"You were unsighted, Mr. Larabee. His back was to you. How did you know he was about to shoot Mr. Tanner?"

Chris Larabee’s face had drained of all color. His hand holding the gun, a hand that had never trembled, began to shake uncontrollably as he realized what had happened. No, what could and would have happened if...if...... Without a word, Chris thrust his revolver into his holster and strode off quickly. Not heading anywhere in particular. Just away from there. As far away from there as possible.

"Chris?" Vin called. He watched his friend bearing down on the livery, but at the last possible moment, Larabee turned and disappeared up the stairs of the church.

Vin spun to look at his colleagues to see if they could offer an explanation. Silently, the six men grouped over the top of the corpse.

"A bounty hunter," Nathan muttered.

"He was just about to shoot you in the back, Mr. Tanner. His gun is still cocked. But damned if I know how Mr. Larabee knew that. He was completely unsighted from where he was standing. There is no way he could possibly have seen this man’s gun."

"Well, he must have," Buck argued. "Chris doesn’t usually go around shootin’ people for no reason. And he certainly don’t waste bullets like that." The way Chris had emptied his entire gun into the stranger was bizarre. Larabee rarely used more than one bullet to stop a man. Usually because one bullet from his gun was more than enough.

Vin Tanner stared down at the lifeless form and realized how easily his friends could have been standing above him.