The sound of a throat being cleared announced Middleton's arrival in the study's open door. His eyes grew wide as he noticed Oren Travis' presence. He shot an accusing look in Molly's direction and his eyes grew wider still as the family resemblance became apparent.

Molly grinned at the man. "Now you know why I use an alias. I take it you recognize my father."

"The court passed through town not too long ago." Middleton spoke directly to the Judge, "We never met, sir, but I sat in on several proceedings. If I may say so, the district is fortunate to have you."

"Thank you. Did Richard Arlington share that opinion?" the elder Travis asked.

"Ashford, Doc. Charles Ashford." Molly responded to the puzzled expression that the Judge's question had produced. She moved next to her father. "You saw him this morning."

Larabee walked slowly up to stand in front of the doctor. He spoke softly and without menace. When he caught up with Arlington, a part of the price paid would go to this man. "We know about Mrs. Middleton. You wanna tell us how it happened?"

"Alice--my wife--went back east to visit her family. She never came home. Please, may I sit down?" After Chris waved him into a chair, he continued. "My wife and I came to Eagle Bend a little over a year a ago, just before Miss Travis came to call, actually. Several months ago you," he indicated Chris, " came to town searching for a killer. Men were injured and some were killed, but no one seemed to be concerned. The law never investigated either your actions or the actions of the survivors. It was as if it had never happened. I telegraphed a lawyer I know in San Francisco. The telegram was never sent," Middleton said bitterly. "That same day Alice received word that her father was ill and she left on the next stage."

Vin detached himself from the wall he had been leaning against. He gave a quick nod to Chris and left the room by the hallway door.

Middleton watched the tracker's departure and continued on with his narrative. "The next day I was invited to dine here, at the ranch, by Marcus Gerard. It was then that I met…Arlington? Yes. He explained that it was not in his best interest that I invite any outside investigation and that I would be much happier if I limited myself to medical matters. My wife would guarantee my conduct. As long as I was loyal, she would be well treated. Once a month I was invited to dinner and presented with a letter from Alice. I was allowed to read it and then it was destroyed. I could send one in return." He paused. "I love my wife, Mr. Larabee."

"Where is Arlington now?" Chris asked.

Middleton stared up at Larabee. "You mean to kill him?"

"Not if he surrenders," Chris lied. He could feel Judge Travis' eyes boring into him. He doubted anyone in the room had believed what he had said.

"You can find my wife?" the doctor asked.

Chris smiled. "No need to. We already know were she is." This wasn't a lie. The night before his death, Chris' uncle had made a long list of townspeople and the holds Arlington had over each. In the case of the town doctor, the information included the whereabouts of the man's wife. "She's being held about ten miles west of here, at another one of Arlington's ranches."

"I don't know precisely where he is, but he was there this morning--at my clinic. He had been wounded, no doubt by one of you. I advised him to rest a few days before attempting to travel. After what I've seen here, I'm not certain he'll have taken my advice."

Vin met up with Josiah as the bigger man was reaching the door to the dining room. He had wanted to ask Rafe a few questions about what, if anything, he had seen of Arlington's escape. He also wanted to look among the wounded and the dead for the ranch foreman. He had accounted for nearly all the men that he had judged the most dangerous during his short stint as a wrangler. The only one missing was Whitman.

Looking past Josiah into the room, Vin saw that Rafe was slumped against the far wall. A momentary flash of pity shot through Vin, but there was no time to coddle the young man. "Rafe? I'm goin' t' bring in the horses. I could use some help."

He watched as Rafe worked his way to his feet and joined them at the door. The man's eyes were reddened, but otherwise he seemed calm and confident. Vin led the way to the kitchen door and out into the bright sunlight. It seemed inconceivable that so many men had died on such a beautiful day. He glanced at his companion and noticed the bemused expression on Rafe's face. Vin remembered well the first time he'd killed a man. It had haunted him for weeks. Months.

They passed by the smoking barn. He hadn't had the chance to ask, but if the barn had been meant as a diversion, it had been a poor one. Very little of it had burnt. The acrid smell of charred wood hurt his nostrils as they neared the edge of the woods where the Four Corner's men had picketed their mounts. Vin reached for Chris' black gelding and began to saddle the animal. He glanced over his shoulder and met Rafe's confused stare.

"I'll be back directly." Vin pulled himself up into the saddle. He would question Rafe upon his return, but for now he was off to retrieve his gun, coat, and horse from where he had cached them.

The moment Vin had left the building, Josiah had continued down to the hallway to the study. There was one last body that needed to be moved. He reached to door just as the doctor was exiting into the parlor, followed by Buck. The silence was heavy between Chris and the Travises.

"I thought I might move Gerard's body, free up the bed for J.D.. How is he?"

It was Chris who answered. "Bullet's out. Doc says he has a chance of makin' it."

"Nathan?"

"Needs rest, but you know Nathan. Ezra's gonna be all right, but he can't fight. I want Rafe to stay here and keep guard. If we can tear Buck away, that'll give us five men." Chris stared into space, lost in thought.

"You have any idea of where to start looking?" Josiah asked.

"Eagle Bend."

By the time Vin and Rafe had returned with the horses, Vin had learned what he had needed to know. A rider had approached the west side of the house with a second horse, and two men had ridden away. Rafe had been keeping his rifle trained on the men below his position and, since the men had not fired on him, he had seen no reason to try to prevent their escape. No one else had made off, at least no one that Rafe had seen.

They picketed the horses near the kitchen entrance and went inside. Vin lit a lamp and headed down the cellar stairs. It didn't take long to determine that Whitman had not been killed in the fighting.

His next stop was the dining room where he found the doctor preparing, with Josiah's help, to remove a man's arm. Vin's gut tightened at the sight. He had seen men wounded, killed, and mutilated, but the sight of surgery always sent a cold fear running through him. He could hear Rafe hurry past the doorway and down the hall. Entering the room, he quickly walked up one side of the room and down the other, looking for the foreman. He didn't find him. He left as Middleton was lifting his saw.

Standing in the doorway to the parlor, what little color remained drained from Rafe Mosely's face. "J.D.?" The whispered question sounded loud to his ears. Nathan was lying in the place he had last seen his friend. Ezra was slumped into a chair. Both men appeared to be asleep.

"I believe," Ezra intoned, "you will find him resting in Gerard's bedroom. Beware the lion at the gate." The gambler's eyes slowly opened and flicked down to Rafe's blood-soaked shirtsleeve. "I assume you have come to regret your decision to play hero?"

Rafe stared down at the injured man, taking in the battered face and the arm in a sling. You're a fine one to talk. He looked toward the door to the study before he answered. "We weren't playing and we aren't heroes." His gaze returned to Ezra briefly, taking note of the approval he read in the green eyes.

"Congratulations. Would you kindly explain that to Mr. Dunne when he wakes up?" The glint of gold could be seen before Standish's smile turned to a grimace of pain. Blood welled at the corner of his mouth as he waved Rafe out of the room.

Pausing in the doorway, Rafe glanced back and saw Ezra watching Nathan with concern in his eyes. He felt a slight twinge of envy. He would never really be a part of the group. A New York writer had dubbed the men "The Magnificent Seven" and had promised he would immortalize them in print. There was no room for an eighth.

"Hell, we might as well shoot us our own selves and be done with it," Buck snarled. "We go waltzin' in an' start takin' horses we are dead, Chris. An' don't give me no crap about first light. By now everyone in Eagle Bend knows what's happened. Rafe saw how many runnin' from here? We ain't gonna be surprisin' anyone out of diapers."

Chris looked past Buck to where Vin Tanner stood. "The town knows we took down Arlington's hired guns. They might think twice about protecting him." He could see Vin sifting through the possible outcomes of the plan, polishing the rough edges and increasing its chances for success. A part of his mind flooded with relief that Tanner was still alive to be able to function as his sounding board.

"An' who'd you have in mind to keep watch at the livery? There's only five of us still fit and you're gonna need us all for what you got in mind." Buck was beginning to calm, but his face was still tight with anger.

With J.D. badly wounded, Chris knew that it was all Buck could do to leave the younger man's side. He also knew that at the root of Buck's anger was guilt. J.D. had been left to guard the hallway alone and nearly died as the result. Might still die. Chris turned to address Rafe Mosely, slumped against the wall near the door to the parlor. "Can you still handle a gun?"

Something dark passed over the boy's eyes before he answered the question. "Just tell me where you want me."

Buck swore under his breath and left the room to check on J.D..

Noting the determined set of Larabee's jaw, Ezra flinched involuntarily. The door to the study had remained open throughout the planning of the raid on Eagle Bend, and Ezra had heard enough to suspect that Chris had plans to make use of he and Nathan in some way. He had considered leaving the room, but his injury and the brandy combined to keep him in his seat.

"How's the shoulder?"

"No need for pleasantries. You know perfectly well that I'm an excellent shot with either hand." Ezra was satisfied with the brief flash of guilt he saw cross Larabee's features. His mother would be appalled. For the second time in as many days, he would be risking death for a principle.

"An' before you ask," Nathan chimed in, "I'll be more'n happy to help. Figure the dizzy spells ought to be gone by mornin'."

Ezra caught Chris' eyes as the gunman turned to leave. For a long moment they stared at each other in silence. A slow smile spread across the hardened gunman's face and Ezra felt compelled to return it. They might face death together come the morning, but they would do so as friends. As Chris left the room, Ezra began to think he had stayed too long in Four Corners.