Once the plan was set, Vin decided to give the bunkhouse prisoners a drink of water. It wasn't as much a humanitarian decision as it was the desire to be alone to consider the upcoming action. Once he had doled out the water and assured himself that the knots he'd tied were still intact, he went outside and sat against the bunkhouse wall.

Chris' plan was workable. With Nathan and Ezra keeping watch over the livery stable, Rafe would collect any horse that might be tethered along the streets at the pre-dawn hour the search was planned for. With the three injured men guarding Arlington's only means of escape, the five healthy fighters would conduct a search for the man. From the papers left behind it was apparent that Arlington owned much of Eagle Bend and held sway over the owners of the properties he did not.

The hotel and boarding houses were the least likely places for Arlington to hide, but Molly had pointed out that, for that reason alone, it might be where he was staying. A building close to the livery is where Vin would chose to be, but if the Judge and Molly were right about how Arlington thought, he might well be hiding on the other end of the town. There was no way to predict where he could be. They would have to search everywhere. Whitman was another problem. Would the foreman stay close to his boss or be sent out as a diversion? Would he even be in town? Vin rubbed a hand over weary eyes as the different scenarios played themselves out in his mind.

"Hey kid." Buck leaned over the pale figure in the bed. "You're gonna be just fine. Doc did a helluva job fixin' you up."

"Guess I didn't die after all. Vin's really alive?" J.D. shifted slightly, wincing as the bandages moved over the wound in his back.

"Yep. Bullet never got through that thick skull o' his." Buck pulled up a chair beside the bed.

"Good." Brown eyes closed as J.D. lost the fight to remain awake.

"You just rest up, kid. You just rest up." Buck briefly patted the boy's hand and rose to leave the room. No one had said it, but it was obvious that the man who had shot J.D. was the man they were preparing to track down. Buck closed the door behind him as he reentered the study.

Chris had left the room shortly after Vin's departure. He had decided it was time to read the letter his uncle had left for him. Walking down the east hall, he entered one of the empty rooms and shut himself away from the world outside. As he sat in a chair placed next to the bed, he removed the sheets of paper and forced himself to focus on the words. "Dearest Christian," it began. Chris smiled slightly. Carl Larabee had been the one to give him his name. The anger he had carried with him since youth began to fade as his uncle's words spilled one after another across the pages.

It was an apology and an explanation. It was a plea for absolution from a man who had been facing imminent death. Over twenty years ago he had vowed to kill Carl. Folding the letter and returning it to the envelope, Chris felt a surge of relief that he had been too late to accomplish his goal.

"So you're saying he was responsible for Stephen's death?" Molly asked.

"He wrote to Stephen. Told him about the fake deeds. Joseph hoped Stephen would expose Arlington's plans." Oren gestured to the stacks of documents on the desk. "Four Corners was one of the few towns that escaped, thanks to Joseph."

"How can you sit there and say that? He got Stephen killed. I don't give a damn what he was trying to do. The man was a coward."

"He was," Oren agreed, "but he still managed to keep you alive."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Molly nearly spat the words out as she glared at her father.

"After Stephen's killers were caught you became a threat to Arlington." Pulling open a desk drawer, the Judge withdrew an object and held it up for Molly's inspection. It was one of the silver tokens. "You were in La Paz. Someone saw you with one of these." He placed the coin down onto the desk. "Arlington sent the killers after you, but Joseph was the one who hired them. He could have hired the best, but he didn't." He leaned back in his chair and waited for Molly's response.

Touching the still healing wound on her head, Molly said, "The last one nearly had me."

"The last one was one of Arlington's own men. He couldn't afford to let you reach Four Corners alive. When you did he decided it was time to abandon Arizona and start up somewhere new. Arlington hoped taking me hostage would buy him some time." Oren smiled grimly. "I could have told him he was wrong."

Wiping his hands dry on his trousers--the cleanest cloth available to him--Josiah slowly looked around the makeshift hospital. The end tally had been an arm and a leg each lost to amputation. Middleton felt certain he could save the severely wounded leg of one of the men if gangrene could be warded off. The man in question was scarcely out of his teens and Josiah had said a heartfelt prayer of thanks when he the doctor had announced his decision.

The doctor had taken his leave, heading back down the hall to see if J.D. was awake and how the boy was doing. Josiah had removed the severed limbs and bloodied cloths and cleaned the room as best he could. With a clarity he had seldom felt in his life, he knew that if he lived to return to Four Corners he would retire his gun and let the other six men dispense justice.

Vin watched as Chris headed toward him. He remained where he was, unwilling to go back inside the house quite yet. Larabee slid down to sit next to him and the two enjoyed a companionable silence for several minutes. Curiosity broke the silence.

"You read it?" Vin looked meaningfully at the envelope Chris held in his hand.

Chris nodded. "Bastard apologized for being born and every day since. Sarah and Adam are still dead."

"So's he," Vin pointed out.

"He tried to keep Arlington from finding out about us. Sarah's pa owned our land--the deed was in his name. He says he didn't know Arlington had found out until after the fire. Fowler was told to leave me alone unless I returned to the area." Chris picked up a small stone and threw it. "Hell, I don't even remember most of that first year."

Vin looked sideways at the closed expression on his friend's face. Only the eyes gave away the pain he was feeling.

A short laugh preceded the resumption of the narrative. "Not a hell of a lot of the year after. After I buried Sarah and Adam nothin' mattered. Nothin'." He turned his face towards the ranch house. "Nothin' except findin' the man who killed them."

Silence regained its hold over the two men. Vin looked toward the tree line, scanning for anything out of place. It was a habit that came as natural as drawing breath. It was a habit that had enabled him to continue to draw breath. In the state of Texas, Vin Tanner was a wanted man. He hadn't committed the murder he was sought for, but he had no way to prove his innocence. Rather than pay the ultimate price for a crime he never committed, Tanner had escaped and made his way west into a land where the law hadn't yet gained purchase.

As he watched a hawk swoop down to capture its prey, Vin smiled. He had been both predator and prey in his life, and he much preferred the former. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the night before. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Larabee's quick grin.

"I figure the kitchen's well stocked." Chris levered himself to his feet and stretched his tired shoulders. "I'm gettin' too old for this crap."

Supper was beefsteak, boiled potatoes, apples, and coffee to wash it all down. The sun was setting as Chris once again joined Tanner outside the house. Josiah and Rafe were feeding the prisoners and allowing them to use the outhouse before they were secured for the night.

"How's J.D.?" Vin asked without turning to look at his friend.

"Asleep." Chris had checked on the wounded youth before heading outside. "Seems alright, considerin'." He handed over a cup of coffee.

"You explain things to the doc?" Vin took a sip, the hot black liquid scalding his tongue. It was better than he was used to and he savored the flavor.

"He's more than happy to stay. I think he knows he's not safe until Arlington is gone, one way or another." Chris scratched the back of his neck and watched as Josiah escorted another man to the privy.

"So now we wait." Tanner took another sip of coffee and stared at the steam rising from its surface. The cawing of crows pulled his attention skyward. Josiah's crows.

Two hours before dawn, Vin and Josiah rode up to the Eagle Bend livery stable. The rest of the Four Corners party waited on the outskirts of town. Climbing down off their horses, the two chatted amiably with the hostler while scanning the interior of the building for sign of an ambush. Satisfied there was no one else present, Vin lifted a lantern down, preparing to give Chris an all-clear signal as Josiah tied the stable hand up in an empty stall near the rear of the building.

"Wells? What the hell…." Pete Whitman stood in the open doorway, pointing a gun toward Vin's midsection. He tensed at the sound of a pistol being cocked.

"You shoot him, I shoot you." Josiah's deep voice came out the shadows, followed by Josiah himself. "You'll die slow and in pain. You want that?"

Whitman lowered his gun. "Can't say I do." He watched as Vin drew the mare's leg and cocked the hammer back. Looking from one man to the other, he smiled and raised his gun toward Vin.

Two bullets buried themselves in Whitman's chest and he slumped down to sit on the ground. He glared up at Vin. "Knew you were trouble." He fought to raise his gun again, but collapsed instead, his blood mingling with the dirt and straw that was the stable's floor.

Vin levered another cartridge into his mare's leg. "Shit."

A few hundred yards to the north, waiting for Vin's signal, Chris started at the sound of gunfire. There had been a trap Vin and Josiah had sprung it. Putting his spurs to his horse's flanks, he sped down the moonlit road toward town, aware of the rest of his friend's keeping pace beside and behind him.

Reining in as he reached the livery, Chris jumped from the saddle and cocked his gun as he drew it from its holster. The clicks of a five other hammers being ratcheted back sounded ominously through the night air.

"Easy, pard." Vin's slow drawl floated out the door. "It's safe for now."

"What the hell happened?" Chris anxiously strode into the cavernous barn. He pulled up at the sight of Whitman's empty stare and slackened features. Raising his eyes he saw Vin loading a fresh cartridge into his weapon and Josiah snapping closed his Schofield, having done the same.

"No ambush. This here's the Bar GA's foreman. I was gonna signal ya in an' then he showed up. I'm thinkin' he was here t' get Arlington a horse. Maybe a wagon."

"Where's the hostler?" Chris squinted as he peered around the room, the light from the lantern barely enough to illuminate the portion they stood in. Josiah walked back into the shadows and returned with the man in question.

Chris looked the worker over from top to bottom. He looked at least sixty, disheveled, and not very frightened. Motioning for Josiah to remove the gag he had so recently installed, Chris asked, "You know this man?" He pointed to the corpse.

"Pete Whitman. Foreman out at the Bar GA."

"You know why he was here?"

"Came by earlier. Paid three days rent for a horse and wagon. Figure he came to pick it up." The man looked down at Whitman. "Never did much like the man." He looked up at Chris, his eyes dancing. "Or his boss."

Chris frowned. "I thought you worked for Arlington?"

"That his real name? Calls himself Ashford. My boss works for him. I work for my boss. Don't mean I have to like it." He snorted. "Don't matter no how. You wanna work in this town, you gotta work for Bonny Prince Charlie. That's what I call him--Bonny Prince Charlie."

"Any idea where the Bonny Prince might be holed up?" Molly asked.

"Not a one. You the bunch that took his ranch? Word is you all shot anything that moved and some that didn't. Killed all the hands and the livestock. Let the cooks go and killed the rest." The old man grinned at Molly. "And you'd be the she-bitch that was ridin' with them."

Vin shot Chris a look and, at the other man's nod, cut the ropes binding the stable hands wrists.

"You got a gun?" Chris asked the man.

"Scattergun loaded with buckshot." Grinning from ear to ear, the graybeard chuckled. "Guess I'm out of a job."

Surprise no longer an option, the first of several contingency plans went into effect. The stableman, who gave his name as Tar, was a welcome addition. His presence, more to the point his shotgun's, allowed Nathan to help with the search for Arlington.

The original plan had called for them to neutralize the Sheriff and his men and that was still their first priority. There was every chance that the deputy on duty was en route to the livery, having either heard the shot or been alerted to it by someone who had. With drawn guns they ranged along the inner wall on either side of the open double-doors, they waited in silence. Tanner slipped out the side door.

It was a short wait. The deputy cautiously maneuvered toward the open double-doors. They felt more that heard his approach. The moonlight cast his shadow over the dead man lying on the earth, flies crawling over the still warm flesh. They could hear his quick intake of breath before he became as quiet and still as the corpse before him. He wasn't close enough to draw down on, so the silence lengthened.

A muffled curse brought a grin to Chris' face. Vin had shown himself. Walking into the doorway, he was in time to see the angry deputy placing his shotgun on the ground in front of him. As he unbuckled his gunbelt he glared first at Chris and then at Tar, standing behind him.

"Tie him up."

At Chris' words, Molly came forward to grab the man, pushing him into the dark recesses of the stable. Josiah went with her.

Vin walked in from behind his cover of hay bales. He looked briefly at the foreman's corpse. "We'd best get him out of sight."

Standing at the livery door, Ezra watched as his friends disappeared from view down Mowry Street, Eagle Bend's main thoroughfare. His shoulder throbbed, a painful reminder of why he must remain behind to help guard the stable. The brandy in his flask hadn't lasted the distance from ranch to town, his discomfort while riding had seen to that. Adjusting his sling for the third time in as many minutes, Ezra glanced at the man standing next to him. Tar felt Ezra's eyes on him and turned to face the gambler.

"Won't be long now." Tar shifted his shotgun upward, cradling it across his midsection. The ten gauge barrels were now pointed in the gambler's general direction.

Ezra frowned. He backed up a step or two, uncertain of what was happening but trusting his instinct that Tar was a threat. The man's eyes followed him and so did the shotgun. Knowing that he would be dead the moment he went for his gun, Ezra remained still and waited for the hand to play itself out.

"I thought I heard something." Rafe's voice called softly from the other side of the stable.

Before he could call out a warning, Ezra heard the sound of a blow and a body falling to the floor. He heard a groan come from Rafe before a second blow silenced him. His options were limited. He could try to force Tar to shoot him, which would alert Chris and the others or he could surrender and hope for a future opportunity to disrupt their plans. Deciding that Tar could just as easily beat him to death as shoot him, he opted to wait and see what transpired.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Tar began forcing Ezra up against the boards of a stall, the twin barrels of the shotgun pressing against his chest through the material of the sling. He winced as his shoulder was jarred.

"So you got yourself a busted wing?" Tar reach out his free hand and grabbed Ezra's forearm. His eyes widened as he made contact with the sleeve rig. "That ain't no splint." Reaching behind his back, Tar pulled a knife free of its sheath and brought it bear against Ezra's throat. "Real easy now. And then the gunbelt."

Doing as he was told, Ezra relinquished his weapons. He silently cursed himself. None of them had completely trusted Tar and he knew that Chris would expect him to keep a weather eye on him. Instead he had allowed the man to get the drop on him. By doing so he had likely gotten Rafe killed.

Noise from the side door announced more arrivals. Ezra watched as the liberated deputy dragged Rafe's body into view. The boy's face was a mask of blood and he looked dead. Two more men stepped out of the shadows. Ezra's jaw clenched as he stared into the face of Richard Arlington.