April 14^th, 1879

Four weary stage passengers exited the mail coach when it arrived in Four Corners. The last to disembark slowly scanned the main street for familiar faces, disappointed when he saw none. Ezra Standish was returning to what had been his first real home.

"Lookin' for someone, Ezra?" Josiah Sanchez' voice boomed from behind.

"Not at all. Merely reflecting how little has changed since my last visit." Ezra reached out for the bag the driver held out for him and turned to smile and shake the preacher's hand. "Including yourself, I might add." He began walking to the hotel, Josiah falling into step beside him.

"Five weeks ain't a whole lot of time. What'd you expect?"

"I'm not quite sure." Darting a glance toward the saloon, he asked, "Is Chris in town?"

Shaking his head, Josiah opened the hotel door for Ezra to pass through.

"And our former fugitive? Now that he is free to go where he will?"

"He's stayin' in town. Least for now. Between scoutin' for the Army and hiring out as a guide, he does alright." Josiah followed Ezra over to the desk and watched as the southerner signed the register with a flourish, wondering how many years it had taken to perfect the fancy script.

"Then Vin's in town?" Ezra didn't want to sound excited, but the prospect of spending a day or two in the company of his friends held an enormous appeal for him.

"Yep, over in the saloon. Chris is out your way, near Eagle Bend."

Ezra stared down at the date on the ledger and slowly said, "I suppose it’s no coincidence."

"You're the bettin' man. And Molly's in town."

"Molly? But I'd heard…."

Nathan smiled warmly as he watched Ezra entering the saloon. He missed the southerner more than he had expected to. After the wounds had healed and the dust settled in the wake of Arlington's death, much of the ownership of Eagle Bend was either buried or had fled. Never one to miss an opportunity, Ezra Standish had stepped in to help rebuild the town. A saloon, a hotel, and a boarding house made up the bulk of his holdings. He was doing well in his new role as a civic leader, but it had meant his departure from their midst. Sipping his coffee, Nathan wondered who would be the next to leave.

"How's J.D.?" Ezra asked as he shook Nathan's hand and claimed the empty chair opposite the healer.

Nathan's smile faded as he answered solemnly, "The same."

Shaking his head in despair, Ezra turned his gaze up at the ceiling as if looking to the heavens. "Lord help the boy. He is far too young to undertake such a sobering enterprise as marriage. I suppose there's no hope?"

"Not unless Casey comes to her senses." Molly piped up from where she sat sharing a table with Vin.

J.D.'s recovery from his wound had been a long and difficult one and, for a time, it seemed as if they might lose him. Casey had nursed her man through the worst of it and had matured a great deal in the process. Ezra had little doubt their marriage would be a good one. "So young. Such a pity." He paused as the bartender brought over a glass for the new arrival, looking slightly chagrined when Ezra's eyebrows raised. "Dan?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't drink it all." With a quick glance at Molly the barman retreated.

"I always did admire your taste in spirits, Ezra."

Enjoying the stricken look on Standish's face, Vin wasn't inclined to tell his friend that Dan was in cahoots with Molly and that the precious liquor was safe behind the bar.

"All? You drank all of my stock?"

Molly lifted a bottle from beneath the table. "All except for this. Heard you were due in soon." She pulled the cork and poured Ezra a drink.

"You drank it all." Ezra gazed despondently at the sole remaining bottle from his private collection. "From what I've heard it should be pouring out of the numerous bullet holes in your entirely dead 'Mostly Dead' Thompson body."

"It was one bullet and it didn’t hit anything important." Molly slowly stood and moved to hand Ezra his glass.

Vin snickered. "Go on, Ezra. Ask her where she got shot."

Before he could comply, he saw what Vin had lifted off the seat of Molly’s chair. His eyes widened as the pillow’s significance sank in. "I see you and Mr. Wilmington now have something in common."

"J.D.? You awake?" Wilmington good-naturedly flicked water at the man in the tub next to his.

"I'm fine, Buck. Quit your nursemaidin'," J.D. answered back, mildly annoyed at Buck's need for conversation. J.D. just wanted to let the heat of the water take away his aches and worries.

"Ain't that. I was afraid you'd fall asleep an' miss all the good advice I'm about t' give ya." Buck chuckled.

"Right." J.D. traced the scar on his chest with one damp finger. He hated it. It reminded him of how close he had come to losing everything and everyone that he cared about. The bullet had forced him to make decisions he would rather have put off for a few more years. It had forced him to grow up.

"You're thinkin' again, ain't ya. Warned you 'about doin' that."

"Yeah, you warned me." He couldn't help but think. In two months he would marry Casey and things would never be the same. It made him nervous.

"You go right ahead thinkin'. I'll leave you to it." Buck rose up out of the water, exposing his own set of scars briefly before wrapping a towel around his waist. He threw one last glance at J.D. and added a grin for good measure. "Don't you go getting' shriveled up in there. Your small enough as it is."

April 15^th, 1879

Stacking the two wooden crosses on top of the load of charred wood, Chris stopped to take a drink from his canteen. It was four years, to the day, since he had lost his family, and well past the time when they should have had proper grave markers. Running his eyes over the new headstones of carved marble, he smiled softly. Sarah would have approved, he felt sure. He had fixed up the fence that surrounded the small burial plot and had pulled the few weeds that dared to grow within its boundaries. The burned remnants of his former home were in the wagon, waiting to be hauled away and deposited in a ravine, far from the spot where the house had once stood.

Tomorrow he would leave for Four Corners. As the duly elected city marshal, he found he always felt a little uneasy when he was away from the town for any length of time. There was no need for uneasiness. J.D. and Rafe, his sworn deputies, were capable of handling anything that might arise. If needed, Buck, Vin, Nathan, and Josiah were more than happy to lend a hand. With Ezra’s departure, Chris had expected some of the other men to leave. Buck and Vin were the prime candidates, especially now that Vin was no longer a wanted man.

With money recovered from Richard Arlington’s bank accounts, Judge Travis had hired Pinkerton detectives to track down the previous owners of the lands and businesses that Arlington and Gerard had illegally acquired. Nearly seventy percent of the properties had been already been returned to their rightful owners or their heirs. He had also hired the agency to clear Vin of the murder charge against him. They had succeeded in locating a witness to the killing and, along with pressure from the Judge, it had been enough to have the charge dropped and the five hundred dollar bounty removed.

A lifetime ago Josiah had asked him what he would do when Arlington was caught. He didn’t have an answer then. He still didn’t. There had been no magical transformation that gave him a new purpose in life. No deep despair overtook him now that he had no devils to pursue. He found that he simply lived. He worked, he spent time with his friends, and he went on with his life. Maybe that was the answer after all. He was getting on with his life. Chris walked over to stand staring down at the graves, a gentle breeze chasing his hair into his face. The rage had gone and the grief had softened into sorrow. Of this too, Sarah would have approved.

The breeze stiffened into a wind, breaking Chris’ reverie. There was plenty of daylight left, if he were to drop off the wood and return the wagon, he could be well on his way home before he was forced to make camp. He knew Ezra was in Four Corners and hoped he would arrive in time to visit with him. With one last look at the graves, Chris turned away and began to hitch up the team of horses.