Tasting the stew simmering on the stovetop, Ezra looked around for the ranch hand turned cook. Spotting him, he asked, "You say this recipe was your dear mother's?" Avarice gleamed in the gambler's eyes. "Do you enjoy the culinary arts, Winslow? A man with a talent such as yours is cruelly misused working with cattle." Taking another sip, he amended, "Live cattle, that is to say."

Winslow looked up from shaping bread dough into loaves. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

The answer was postponed by Rafe's arrival with Alice Middleton in tow. Two of the men the doctor had released had volunteered to bring the woman back from the ranch where she had been held a prisoner. Once the ranch owner understood that Arlington was gone and never returning he had been happy to release his hostage.

"Is there more beef broth to be had?" Mrs. Middleton was a small, trim woman with deep chestnut hair plaited and pinned neatly up and out of her way.

"Yes, ma'am." Winslow placed the pans of bread into the stove and reached for the empty kettle Rafe held out for him. Filling it halfway full with the steaming liquid, the cook passed it back, giving Rafe time to wrap a heavy cloth around the handle.

Waiting until Rafe and the doctor's wife had departed, Ezra attempted to continue the earlier conversation but the words caught in his throat when Winslow picked up a large knife and glared in his direction. Backing out the door and into the hallway, Ezra decided it was time to check in on J.D. and Buck.

Dust kicked up by Josiah's horse choked Molly as she rode five yards behind him, bringing up the rear of the group. Taking a swig of water from her canteen, she rinsed her mouth and swallowed the grime and tepid water both. She was tempted to spit out the foul tasting liquid, but water was scarce in this part of Mexico and not to be wasted. Vin was scouting up ahead. With the hunt nearly at an end, conversation had come to a halt. She scanned the trail ahead and to the sides, occasionally turning in the saddle to look back over her shoulder.

Arlington was down to two men, but he was also desperate. A last stand on his part was possible, as was another ambush. Like the wounded animal Molly considered him to be, he would fight for his life. The real question was whether those with him were willing to fight for it, too.

Sound ahead drew her attention. Vin was headed back to rejoin them. Kicking her horse into a trot, she passed Josiah and pulled up along Chris' right side. Her horse tossed its head, wanting to take over the lead.

Josiah moved up on the other side of Chris as Vin neared. All of them reined their horses in as Vin stopped a few yards in front of them. His eyes were unreadable as he looked at her first, then Larabee. Molly felt her gut tighten.

Riding slowly southeast, Tar and Felipe kept silent for the first few minutes after abandoning their former employer. Tar was thinking about the papers that Richard had asked he destroy. It wasn't necessary. The documents were already burned and their ashes scattered at Marcus Gerard's urging. Much of it was material used to blackmail government officials, including Judge Travis' predecessor. Land grant forgeries Richard had not yet put into play were also in the safe.

It was for Felipe that Tar had stayed with Arlington as long as he had. By the time he had realized that Richard wasn't just interested in investing in Arizona Territory but wanted to gain control over it, the money Tar was making was enough to assure his loyalty. It had taken Gerard to force him to examine his own involvement in a scheme that had brought about a great many deaths and the financial and political ruin of more men than Tar cared to think about.

What he did care to think about was astride the horse riding next to him. "When are to going to marry that girl of yours and give me some grandchildren?" His eyes widened as Felipe suddenly looked distinctly embarrassed.

"I've been meaning to talk to you, Papa." Felipe looked straight ahead. "I think the wedding must be soon."

Leather creaked as Chris dismounted. He suddenly felt old. Tomorrow no longer existed. There was only now. Now and the old man sitting less than a hundred yards away, hidden by the rock outcropping off to the right. When Vin had told them that Arlington was alone, Chris had grown quiet. It was the end of the line for both himself and the man he intended to watch die. They had been linked by blood and only blood could set them free.

Looking over his saddle at the man who had become a brother to him, Chris gave a slight nod. Vin returned it and lifted his rifle from its scabbard, moving away to take the high ground in case Arlington's companions returned. As Tanner disappeared from view, Chris led his horse over to where Josiah and Molly had tethered theirs. He caught Josiah's eyes on him and stared back until the older man broke the contact. Molly was watching them both, her face set with grim determination. They were ready.

Drawing his gun, he eased back the hammer. Holding it at his side, he began walking toward the rocks, scarcely aware of anything other than the edge of the stone that blocked Arlington from sight. He rounded the boulders and got his first look at the man who had destroyed his family. Time seemed to come to a stop. No sound or movement penetrated his awareness save for that of his own breathing. After what seemed an eternity he saw Arlington raising his hand from his lap. He had a gun.

"…a girl we shall name her…" Felipe broke off as the sound of distant gunfire reached their ears.

Tar flinched when he heard the shots. He said a silent prayer for Arlington's soul. Whatever else the man may have been, he had been Tar's friend.

"What? You'll name her what?"

"Maria Teresa." Felipe flicked a nervous glance at his father. "Papa…"

"What's done is done. We won't speak of it again, understand?" Tar stared at his son until the younger man answered.

"Si, Papa. I understand."

"Good."

They rode on in silence.

Chris stared at the body of the man who had stolen more from him than he had thought it was possible to take. His shot had caught Arlington in the center of the chest and the man had died over the course of several minutes, the life fading from his eyes as Chris watched in satisfaction. Hell had a new tenant.

"Chris, I need to stop the bleeding." Josiah's deep baritone was tinged with concern.

"Wha…." Looking down at his left arm as Josiah's knife slit the material of his shirtsleeve, Chris saw the damp stain that was still spreading from the bullet wound in his biceps. Dimly he realized that he was in pain and that Arlington hadn't missed with his shot, after all. His gaze returned to the corpse in front of him. He wanted to empty his gun into the body, to tear at it with a knife, to leave it a bundle of rags and torn flesh. He did none of those things. Instead he remembered his wife and son and vowed that their memories would not die along with his need for revenge.

"It's over." Vin Tanner moved to block Chris' view of Arlington.

"I don't want it over," Chris said flatly.

"Chris, it's over. He's dead," Vin's voice was insistent.

"We ain't buryin' him."

"Never thought we would," Josiah said softly.

Slowly holstering his gun, Chris took a deep breath. Vin was right, it was time to bury the past in the grave Arlington had dug for it. It was time to move on.