From his perch on the roof, Rafe kept watch on the half-dozen men who had surrendered to him. Most of the Bar GA's hands had run off or been shot, but the half dozen lying on the ground below had put down their guns and given themselves up.

The cries of the wounded were beginning to wear on Rafe's nerves. He wasn't sure how many of the men he'd shot were killed and how many wounded, but he could hear pleas for help coming from several directions.

He had his own injury to deal with, as well. A bullet had ploughed a furrow along his left forearm, leaving a wound more painful than it was serious. It stung and it throbbed, but in a strange way he was pleased to have been hit. The scar would be a reminder of this day and what it had made him into. Rafe tensed as another cry came from below.

"Where are they?" Chris' voice was soft. It usually was when he was on the edge of violence.

"I assume you're referring to Grant and Arlington. They were in there." Judge Travis waved his hand toward the next room. "I heard shots."

"Gerard, Grant…whatever you wanna call him, he's dead." Vin saw the flash in Chris' eyes at the announcement. "Not my doin', Chris. And no sign of the other one."

Chris digested the news. For the nearly four years since Sarah and Adam's deaths, he had been consumed with finding their killer. Now that the man responsible was dead, he felt suddenly empty. "We'll find him." He glanced toward Molly, curious to see what effect Vin's statement had had on the woman. She had gone pale and still, as if in shock. He noticed the Judge watching her as well.

As if she had felt Chris' stare, Molly suddenly drew back her shoulders and addressed the room at large. "I'll go check on the others." With a quick glance to her father, she turned and left the room.

Chris frowned as he watched her exit. He had expected her to want to see Gerard's body for herself. He turned back to the Judge. "Any idea what that was about?"

The elder Travis smiled sadly. "I gather my daughter has left out a few details concerning her relationship with Joe Grant."

"I can walk." Ezra gasped in pain as Josiah helped him to his feet. He hoped he had told the big man the truth. Walking seemed more of a challenge once he was upright. Josiah has assured him the cut on the right side of his back was deep but not mortal. That assurance did nothing to lessen the pain that each movement of his arm brought about. Using his left arm to hold the right tight against his chest, Ezra began to limp his way toward the north end of the hall.

He could hear Josiah picking up Nathan and following behind him. They had been unable to wake the healer, and Josiah had suggested moving to join their friends in the parlor. Friends that apparently included the late Vin Tanner.

Reaching their destination, Ezra leaned heavily against the doorframe and looked inside. No one. The room was empty, but he heard voices from the room beyond. Shuffling inside, Ezra made his was to a well-cushioned chair and eased himself down. He watched as Josiah gently placed Nathan onto the settee. It felt wonderful not to be moving. He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he heard Josiah's voice saying his name.

"Ezra. Ezra?" Josiah held out a half-filled glass.

"You are indeed a man of God." Ezra sniffed the glass appreciatively. Brandy. Possibly very good brandy. Sipping tentatively, the southerner was delighted to discover that the filthy, cowardly, murderous scum that they had come in search of had refined tastes when it came to spirits.

Molly had walked several yards down the hallway before she noticed Buck and J.D. sitting along the wall near the house's main entrance. She stopped up short and stared for a moment before continuing on.

"Never thought I'd be this damned happy to see a bounty hunter." Buck smiled up at her, but the smile never reached his eyes.

"How is he?" Molly crouched down to make her own determination.

"Not doin' so good," J.D. said, his voice weak.

"Where's Nathan?" Buck's fear had made it into his voice.

Sitting back on her heels, Molly made a quick decision. "Nathan's hurt, but I don't know how bad." She held up her hand to forestall Buck's response. "I'm going into Eagle Bend and find a doctor. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Buck put a hand on her arm to keep her from rising. "How's your daddy?"

"He's fine."

"Gerard?"

"Dead. Arlington is missing." Molly stared hard into his eyes. "Any more questions?" Shaking off his hand, she rose and headed for the door. She felt bad for Wilmington, he was overly fond of the kid and, from what she could tell, it was only a matter of a day or so before J.D. Dunne was being read over. Buck knew that, she could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

Pulling her gun, Molly exited the house and skirted along the wall to the south end of the house, calling out to Rafe not to shoot. She walked past the men Rafe had pinned down suddenly realizing that they would be incredibly lucky if J.D. was the only man lost this day. The fact that Nathan was hurt weighed heavily on her mind, but it was Joseph Grant's death that sent her running from the house and away from the others. Her part was done. Her father was safe and Grant, Gerard, had paid for his crimes. .

After she had reached her gelding and finished saddling him, Molly looked back toward the ranch. The barn was only partly destroyed, thanks to the quick action of the ranch hands. The bunkhouse was empty, she had checked it inside and out and signaled to Rafe that his work was done. The young man had lowered himself over the side of the house and dropped down while she kept watch over his prisoners.

She was tempted to get on her horse and start riding, to keep on riding until sunset and put Grant and the day's events behind her. With a curse, Molly surrendered to fate. She could ignore Wilmington and Dunne, but Nathan Jackson was a friend. You didn't abandon your friends. Hauling herself up into the saddle, she spurred her horse in the direction of Eagle Bend.

Staring down at the body of his uncle, Chris felt numb. Vin and Judge Travis had been speaking but Chris hadn't heard the words, only the sound of their conversation. Talk had ceased as sounds had come from the other room.

"Who is it?" Chris drew his gun and looked back toward the door.

Vin edged around the open door and stole a glance into the room's interior. Pulling back inside he faced Chris. "Looks like Nathan and Ezra got hurt. Josiah brung 'em in. Nathan ain't movin' and Ezra don't look so good."

"Ride to Eagle Bend and bring back the doctor." Chris holstered his Colt before continuing. "And send Buck and J.D. back here."

"Rafe?"

"Tell him to stay on watch." Suddenly Larabee felt incredibly tired. "Tell him I'll send someone to relieve him soon as I can."

Oren Travis approached Chris as Vin left the room. "I want to thank you for saving my life." He looked down at his former colleague's body. "Although I understand that wasn't your only reason for coming here. Joseph and I had ourselves quite a discussion last evening. I believe he knew he wouldn't be seeing you alive. He gave me this." Retrieving an envelope from inside his coat, he handed it to Chris.

"What happened?" Nathan Jackson's voice brought Ezra to his feet.

"Nathan? It is about time you rejoined us." The relief that flooded through the gambler was nearly enough to mask the pain from his injuries. Josiah had gone for water and clean linen and left the two wounded men alone in the room. Ezra lowered himself carefully to his knees.

"You been hurt." Nathan tried to rise but fell back as nausea overtook him.

"As have you. Mr. Tanner is at this very moment on his way to locate a physician." He smiled at Nathan, his first real smile in days. "He'll no doubt be pleased to learn his trip was unnecessary." He watched Nathan looking around the room in confusion.

"Where are we?"

"In Marcus Gerard's personal parlor. It would seem the man no longer has need of it. Someone has claimed Larabee's prize as his own--Gerard is dead."

"Gerard's Parlor?" Panic flickered across Nathan's dark features. "Ezra, the last thing I remember is ridin' back to town with Vin after takin' Mary an' Billy to stay with Rain's people."

Buck was helping J.D. to stand as Vin came around the corner. One look told him the boy was badly hurt. Not J.D., we can't lose the kid. He quickly walked the fifteen yards that separated himself from his friends. Neither man noticed his approach until he was within ten feet.

"God, Buck. I'm dyin'." J.D.'s eyes went wide with fear as he stared at the ghost drawing near. The closer Vin approached, the more frightened J.D. became. "I don't wanna die."

"Nah, kid. You ain't dyin'. I see him too," Buck whispered.

As Vin closed to within arm's reach, J.D. blurted out, "But I saw you die!" The pain from his wound was momentarily forgotten as J.D. reached out his hand to grab hold of Vin's arm.

"I'll explain later." Vin removed J.D.'s hand from his arm, eyeing the boy's wound as he did so. "Right now I'm goin' for a doctor. Nathan's hurt and Ezra don't look so good neither." He paused, looking up at Buck. "Best get J.D. here down to the rooms at the end o' the hall." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Vin moved to walk by when Buck's voice halted him.

"Molly's already fetchin' a doc. Chris didn't send her?"

Vin looked a little more intently at Buck. The question and the tone in which it was delivered set off alarm bells. Buck didn't trust Molly to return with help. "No." He admitted. "But if you're thinkin' she cut an' run, you don't know Molly."

"You’re right 'bout that. I don't know Molly. I don't know her and I don't trust her. That woman don't care 'bout J.D. or anyone else, 'cept maybe her daddy." Buck snorted. "An' her daddy's not hurt, is he?"

"I got t' check on Rafe. You'd best move J.D. an' wait for the doc." He started for the door again, pausing long enough to add, "You're wrong 'bout Molly, but now ain't the time to argue it."

Rafe had been trying to remember why he had insisted on coming. Why he had thought killing a man would be easy, so long as that man was a killer himself. He wouldn't allow tears to fall, but the part of his soul that had survived the morning's firefight was questioning his insistence on coming.

When his father, the late Reverend Mosely, had been exposed as a murderer, Rafe had known he would be spending the rest of his life trying to make amends. He couldn't bring Claire back, but he promised Chanu, her husband, that he would never allow himself to be blinded again by prejudice. He and Chanu weren't especially friendly, but they had come to respect one another, at least Rafe hoped they had.

"Rafe?"

Swinging the Winchester around, Rafe stared open-mouthed at Vin Tanner. "I thought…"

Grinning from ear to ear, Vin cut him off, "You an' everybody else. Tell ya later." Tanner's gaze lowered to the bloodstained shirtsleeve. "How bad?"

"Just a graze. Hurts a lot, but it's stopped bleeding." The whole time he spoke Rafe's eyes were fastened on the scab on Vin's forehead--evidence of a bullet's passage.

"These all surrender?" Vin gestured at the half-dozen men lying on the ground.

Rafe nodded. "What do we do with them?"

Vin smiled. "I'll show ya."