Filling the canteens from a water hole, the only one for the next twenty miles, Vin thought about the way Chris and Molly would react when they finally caught up with Arlington and his men. He was half convinced that one or both of them would shoot the man dead before he had the chance to surrender.

He knew that Chris normally would only kill in self-defense, but this was not a normal situation. The murderer of his family was only two hours ahead of them. Vin had little illusion that Arlington would live to see the end of a rope.

Molly, as a rule, only killed as a last resort. When she was scared the shotgun came out, but she seldom allowed herself to get backed into a corner. This time it was hatred and anger driving her. Whether or not the Judge's influence would win out over revenge was anyone's guess.

Watching as Molly approached Chris, Vin wished he could hear their conversation. If they all lived through this, it would be an interesting next few weeks as Chris sorted himself out. For the first time in a while he thought of Tascosa, Texas. Maybe it was time he dealt with the price on his head. Once he was sure Chris would be all right, he would head east. Until he was cleared of the murder charge against him, he was never going to be completely free. If there was one thing Tanner valued, it was freedom.

"But why the fancy rig? You don't seem the type." Molly scratched an itch on the back of her neck and waited for Larabee's answer.

Chris ran a hand over the silver conchos and spots that adorned his holster and gunbelt. "Belonged to the first man I ever killed. We were both mad drunk and could barely clear leather. I got lucky. He didn't. Kept this to remind me."

"Let me guess. He fancied himself a gunman." Molly shook her head disgustedly.

"Yep. And when I killed him I became one. It was three months after my wife and son were killed. I think I was hopin' he'd win the fight."

"And the hired gun reputation?"

"Unless you count ridin' shotgun on a stagecoach, I've never hired out my gun. Near as I can tell, your brother is to blame for that." Chris smiled slightly at her lifted eybrow.

"How 'bout you? How'd you come to be a bounty hunter?"

"Your uncle and Arlington get the credit. I gather my father told you I thought I was in love with Joseph Grant. It wasn't really love, but Mother couldn't convince me otherwise. Then Joseph murdered Jacob, and Elizabeth was destroyed as well." Molly gave him a rueful smile. "Women can't be lawyers or lawmen, but there's no law that says we can't collect a bounty. It was my way to make amends. If I hadn't been so blind, Jacob might be alive still."

"So you became a killer?" Chris asked skeptically.

"I bring in killers." She corrected him. "I prefer to bring them in alive, but some of them…. Maybe they just don't want a woman bringing them in." Molly conceded, adding, "The men I choose to hunt are ones that will hang once they're caught, so I'm not sure if it's me or the rope they object to."

"I killed a man once in Abilene, Jackie Pinder. He was just a kid." Chris remembered the look in the boy's eyes as the lifeblood poured out of his chest. Fear and shock. "I could have wounded him, but I shot to kill."

"He shoot first?"

"Tried to. Never had a chance."

"I don't see the problem. If you'd only wounded him he might have killed you. You know that." Molly's expression grew dark. "I once shot a man at close range with buckshot. Had his guts spill out all over me. He wasn’t a bad man--he was just drunk and stupid. I can't bring him back to life and you can't bring back Jackie Pinder." Molly walked back to her horse and hoisted herself into the saddle.

"Maybe not. But I can sure send Arlington to hell ahead of us." Chris smiled up at her, but the smile never touched his eyes. His eyes had grown cold like green ice.

For the fist time Molly realized that it wasn't going to be her bullet that ended their quarry's life. A part of her was relieved. .

Bringing the buckboard to a halt, Nathan climbed into the back to check on Buck. The road from town was rough and Wilmington had been cursing the entire trip excepting the last mile. "How you holdin' up, Buck?"

"Now you're askin' me? Now? Why, I'm just fine, thank you. But don't go tryin' to move me just yet." Buck took a deep breath and moved his legs experimentally. "Damn, that hurts."

Deciding that the buckboard would not be moving anytime soon, Rafe opted to check on the prisoners. He filled a water bucket and carried it inside the bunkhouse.

"Nathan! Ezra!"

The two men trotted over to the building and entered, nearly plowing into Rafe. As one, they came to a shocked standstill. The bunks were vacant with only discarded ropes to show that there had ever been prisoners tied to them.

"Rafe? What's going on?" Buck's strained voice carried through the door.

The three men inside the bunkhouse exchanged fearful glances. Rafe finally spoke the name on all their minds: "J.D."

Tar had not gone to check for signs of their being followed. He had wanted time alone to think about the situation. Arlington was no longer capable of making sound decisions. The wound and the laudanum were clouding his judgement. It was time for Tar to make a few decisions of his own. Decisions that might keep he and his son alive once Larabee caught up with them.

When Arlington had warned him about Parker, it had made him realize that paranoia had begun to set in. Soon everyone would be an enemy, perhaps even Tar. Like a wounded animal, Arlington would bite, claw, and fight to his last breath against any perceived threat. Staring down from the hilltop, he was surprised when he caught sight of movement in the far distance. It wouldn't be long now. Larabee was just over an hour behind them. Less, if Arlington needed to rest as often as Tar suspected would be necessary.

Thinking of Felipe, and the boy's mother, he made his decision. "Sorry, Richard." His soft words were lost on the breeze but he felt a cold chill run the length of his spine as he spoke them. It was not over yet. He would have to use caution.

Turning onto his right side and pushing up enough to peer over the side of the wagon, Buck looked around anxiously. He heard the two men before they stepped out of the kitchen door and had a rifle aimed and cocked as they came into view. The fear that crossed their features would have been comical at any other time. Their hands shot up over their heads in twin gestures of surrender.

"Look, Mister," the taller of the two blurted out, "we don't want trouble. No guns, see?"

"Turn 'round." Buck looked for any sign of a weapon as the men did as they were told. "All the way 'round." He heard the approach of Ezra, Nathan, and Rafe and waited until they came up next to the buckboard. "They ain't armed."

Rafe spoke up. "They're two of the bunkhouse prisoners. How'd you boys get loose?"

The answer to his question appeared in the doorway behind the men. Middleton raised his chin defiantly. "I turned them loose. I understand the need, but when you men all left this morning, I was alone to care for the wounded and there was no one to take the dead into town for proper burial. These men and their friends are able and willing to assist me." He walked over to the buckboard and looked in at Buck, pulling free the blanket. "Unlike yourselves."

Lowering the rifle, Buck decided it was a little late to debate the wisdom of the doctor's decision. "How's J.D.?"

Middleton's eyes lost their hard glint. "Resting. He's doing very well, all things considered. Unlike some of the other men." He shifted his gaze to Nathan in time to see the flicker of interest his words had elicited. "Mr. Jackson, I'd be grateful for your assistance."

"Richard, I think I know a way we can slow Larabee down and maybe get rid of Parker at the same time." Tar knelt next to his boss, they had only ridden another ten miles before Arlington had needed to rest again. The gap between the pursuers and the pursued was closing rapidly.

"Ambush?" Arlington considered the idea. "Excellent idea, Tar. Send him. Tell him to kill Larabee or find another employer."

Tar smiled slightly. "That's what I'd planned on telling him. How's the pain?"

"Manageable." Leaning back against the warmth of a large boulder, Richard Arlington fell asleep once more.

Looking down at the man he had served for the last fifteen years of his life, Tar felt a twinge of regret. He was delivering Richard Arlington unto his enemies. He was also saving his son's life, his own and, if the man had any sense whatsoever, Parker's.

He stood and walked over to where Parker stood keeping an eye on the trail. They were resting some twenty yards off the path, hidden from view by boulders and brush. There was no water, but there was something nearly as valuable--shade.

"Parker. Boss wants you to set up an ambush at that piece of high ground a mile or so back. Pick off Larabee as he passes. He says to either kill him or don't try to catch up with us. I'm telling you straight that if you do this and live to return, Arlington will put a bullet in you himself. He doesn't trust you Parker, and he kills men he doesn't trust. If I was you I'd steer clear of the trail and head back up to Arizona or California. Live longer that way." Tar watched as his words were absorbed. He saw the exact moment Parker decided to become another notch on Larabee's gun.

"Thanks for the advice, old man."

Pulling up as they approached the section of trail that passed next to a wall of rock, Vin pulled his spyglass from his coat and searched the top of the cliff. Just as he was about to lower the glass, he caught movement about a hundred yards up ahead. A rifle barrel protruded from between two rocks, its owner hidden from view. As he watched, the barrel shifted again.

"Get down!" Pitching himself from the saddle, Vin struck the ground at the same moment the sound of a shot reached his ears. Looking around hurriedly, he saw that his friends were unhurt and had ducked behind tree and shrub in hopes of concealment. Standing only long enough to retrieve his rifle, he sprawled out prone and sighted on the spot he had seen the rifleman. Slowly squeezing the trigger, he sent three hundred and fifty grains of lead flying up toward the gap between the rocks. Levering another round into the chamber, he fired again the moment the man jumped up from cover. This time the bullet struck flesh and Vin watched as the shooter's body slipped and tumbled its way down onto the trail below.

The bullet removed from his leg, Buck leaned heavily on Nathan as he hobbled into the bedroom where J.D. was recovering.. A bunk had been placed atop two crates, the resulting bed level with the one already occupying the room. Easing himself down onto his stomach, Buck sighed contentedly. He could heal and keep an eye on J.D. all at the same time.

Noise from the neighboring bed grabbed his attention. J.D. was beginning to wake up. Buck smiled as the boy's eyelids struggled to open. One hand rose up to sweep hair from his forehead and to rub his eyes. When the hand fell away, the eyes were open.

"How ya doin', J.D.?" Buck tried to sound cheerful, but the throbbing of his wounds put an edge in his voice.

"Buck? Buck, what are…" J.D.'s eyes grew wide as he saw best friend stretched out in bed, in obvious pain. "What happened?"

"Well, kid, I got shot in the butt, that's what happened. I don't wanna hear any jokes 'bout it, neither. Hurts like the dickens." Buck grinned. He had to strain to hear J.D.'s next words.

"It's OK. Ladies like scars." The brown eyes closed as J.D. drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

Arlington groaned as Tar eased him from the saddle. The stops to rest were frequent now. Too frequent. He came to a decision as he sat and leaned against the trunk of a mesquite tree.

Tar spoke first. "I'm thinking we should send Felipe ahead to fetch a wagon."

Nearly laughing at the words, he countered, "You and Felipe both go. Let's not play games, you and I. I will never see my land again and, if you stay, you'll be buried at my side. Go. Take your son and leave me here."

"Richard, I…"

"You heard me." Shifting to reduce the bite of the tree bark into his back, Arlington looked over at Tar's son, tending the horses. "Felipe's a good boy. The ranch is in his name, did I tell you? No? A Mexican surname on the deed seemed prudent at the time. Fortuitous, as it turns out." He smiled slightly. "There will be no questions."

When Tar remained silent, Arlington's smile broadened. "No need to thank me, but I do have one last favor to ask of you."

"Anything."

"There is a valise in my safe. I wish the contents destroyed. Will you do it?" he asked gravely. Tar knew the combination to the safe, knew the papers and what they represented. Arlington was certain that his request would be honored.

"Consider it done."

"Good. Go now. Let me rest." He closed his eyes and listened as the two men spoke softly together. He listened as the creak of leather and shifting of hooves told him they were in their saddles. He listened as one horse approached and stopped in front of him and Tar's soft voice spoke to him one last time.

"Goodbye, Richard. Vaya con Dios."