He tied the scalp into his gelding’s mane with careful deliberation, his bloodied hands knotting the hair with difficulty. It was the first scalp. Vin Tanner planned on adding another four before he was through. Without a backward glance for the man he had just killed, Tanner mounted his horse and rode on.

Staring grimly at the door before him, Josiah Sanchez knocked softly on the worn wood. As the door swung open in response, Josiah felt a stab of pity for the man inside. Dr. Paul Winslow had arrived thirteen months earlier, replacing Doc Peterson after the latter’s death. Winslow had proved an excellent physician, but one poorly suited to life in the west. In a year’s time the man’s hair had gone completely gray. He was thirty-eight years old.

"Yes?" Winslow asked wearily.

"Thought I might sit with Ella a while, if it’s alright."

"Of course. Come in." Stepping aside to allow the preacher to enter, Winslow gestured toward the back room. "I’ve done what I could. Maybe your God can help."

Josiah frowned. "’My’ God?"

"I’m not sure I can believe in him anymore. Not after this." The doctor turned, picking up a bowl filled with bloodied water and rags. "If you need me, I’ll be outside for a few moments."

Josiah looked back to the room where Ella lay. He had only had a glimpse of her when Vin had driven the wagon in, but it had been enough. He walked into the room and forced himself to look at the woman on the bed. Her face was bruised and swollen-- unrecognizable. The doctor had covered the rest of her body with a sheet, hiding the cruel injuries Josiah knew were there. Broken arm, broken rips, torn flesh. He sat down heavily in a chair facing the bed, trying to imagine the hell Vin Tanner now lived in.

Blinking back tears, Josiah numbly realized that it must be nearly noon. By all rights, he should be performing Vin Tanner and Ella Lodge’s wedding ceremony, not keeping a vigil over the woman’s sickbed. The tears came as Josiah remembered the joy on his friend’s face when Vin had come to ask him to perform the service. Instead of a wedding this afternoon, it would be a funeral. Ella’s mother hadn’t survived the attack upon her person, as her daughter had. If she truly had.

Josiah looked up as Winslow entered the room.

"Is Marshal Dunne out searching for the men who did this?" Winslow’s face now held anger, as well as sorrow.

"Marshal Dunne…is feeling poorly. He did send out two of his deputies with a posse." Turning a blank look upon the doctor, Josiah waited to see if the man would understand.

Winslow stared back in confusion. "Poor health? But I saw him just…" his voice trailed off as a dark suspicion began to form. "The posse won’t find them, will they?"

"Well, not where they’re lookin’ they won’t." Josiah allowed.

"But Vin Tanner will?" His voice was angry.

"There is that chance." Josiah smiled sadly, more for the loss of the doctor’s innocence than for anything Tanner might do. The man should have stayed back east.

"But, he’ll kill them!"

Josiah looked back at the woman lying on the bed. "Yeah. I reckon’ he will."

"I want Ma!"

"Shhh, Ethan. You’re ma’ll be home soon." J.D. Dunne rocked his young son on his lap, hoping he was telling him the truth. Casey had taken it upon herself to take Doc Winslow some food, hoping to get news of Ella’s condition.

"J.D.?"

"In here, Casey." J.D. scooted his son off his lap, smiling slightly as the boy ran to embrace his mother.

Casey detached the child from her legs, sending him off to play with his sisters. "There’s been no change. Did Chris go after him?"

"Yeah." J.D. remembered the look on Chris Larabee’s face. "And he’ll find him." Chris was Vin’s closest friend, but that hadn’t stopped the tracker from cracking his friend’s skull. Larabee had awoke to pain and frustration. "God help Vin when he does…"

Larabee reined in his horse. He’d seen something, but what? Scanning the rocks to either side of the trail, he froze at the sight of an outstretched arm, covered in blood. Not Vin’s, the clothes were wrong. But he hadn’t expected to find Tanner. Only the men Tanner pursued.

Dismounting quickly, Chris approached the body. He stared at the scalp wound for several seconds, adjusting his opinion of Tanner’s mental state accordingly. He focused on the rest of the corpse. The man had been stabbed to death, the knife wound visible in the blood-soaked shirtfront. Looking at the face, Larabee recognized the man. Roscoe Jones.

"Hell Roscoe. You’re lookin’ good." Chris muttered. Roscoe Jones had been in trouble his entire miserable life, all twenty-odd years of it. The seven men who defended the town of Four Corners, Larabee included, had all wanted to kill him at one time or another.

Today would have been Vin and Ella’s wedding day if this bastard and his friends had not raped and beaten the woman to the brink of death. The look on Vin’s face would haunt Chris for the rest of his life. He had worn the same look himself, after the murders of his own family.

Vin would be trailing the rest of the gang to Mexico. Retrieving his horse, Chris tipped his hat to the dead man, now covered with stones and brush, and headed south.

Leaning forward in the saddle, Tanner smoothed the second scalp into place, ignoring the pleas from the dying man.

"Ya gotta finish it. Please, mister. Ya can’t leave me like this."

Calm blue eyes met terrified brown ones. Vin smiled slightly before turning his mount toward the border.

"You’re a minister of God, how can you condone what Tanner plans on doing?" Winslow asked angrily.

"Condone? Take a long look at that woman, doctor. Remember what those beasts did to her mother. Would you have them go unpunished?" Josiah stared deep into the doctor’s eyes, trying to separate the man from the profession.

"Of course not. But there are laws!"

"Yep. There are laws. Mostly they’re ignored. Out here, the law’s what men make of it—not what’s written. What these men did is vile. They’ll pay the price, and does it matter if it’s Vin or a hangman who makes them pay? They’ll be just as dead." Josiah looked again at the bruised face of Ella Lodge. "And maybe this way is more just."

Paul Winslow stared long and hard at the preacher. He knew the man was right, to a point. Elizabeth Lodge was murdered, her daughter all but so. Should not those who had loved them have their revenge? No. The law was the law—no man had the right to take it unto himself.

The second of Tanner’s kills lay directly on the trail. Chris could not have missed it if he had tried. Judging from the marks, the man had dragged himself quite a ways before dying where he now lay. Turning the body over, Chris saw he had been gut-shot. Vin had left him to die a slow and painful death. He knew the face, but not the name. He had seen the man in the saloon, sitting with Jones.

Larabee retrieved a small shovel from his pack and began digging a shallow grave, far enough off the trail to avoid the attention of passerby. Vin might not be concerned with his own future, but Chris was. No bodies, no questions.

The sun beat down fiercely, but Vin Tanner remained motionless, allowing sweat to flow unchecked down his face and neck. The three remaining men were directly below him, stopping to water their horses and fill their canteens.

"I tell you, we ne’er shoulda messed with that gal. Tanner’s gonna kill all o’ us ‘fore we e’en make the river." The speaker glanced nervously about. "No gal’s worth dyin’ for. No gal."

"Maybe not, but she sure’s hell was fun. Lots of fight. I like ‘em when they fight an’ I like ‘em when they scream." Rubbing his crotch, the second man continued. "Yes sir, I do like ‘em when they scream."

Vin’s decision having been made for him, he raised his rifle.

"Casey?"

"Coming, Aunt Nettie." Casey Dunne hurried to her aunt’s side.

"Any word on Vin?" The elderly woman had become Vin Tanner’s surrogate mother, and her inability to help him weighed heavily on her slight shoulders.

"No, Aunt Nettie. Not yet. It hasn’t been that long." Casey demurred. She knew her aunt wouldn't be mollified by false reports, but she did not have any news to give her.

Nettie Welles fought back hot tears. "You let me know as soon as you hear anything."

"Damn." Larabee turned away from the mutilated corpse.

Vin had taken the scalp, of course, but he had also emasculated the man--the severed genitals lying alongside the body. Judging from the amount of blood nearby, Collier had been alive when it had happened. There was a bullet wound to the man’s hip, enough to bring him down, without killing him. Vin had known exactly what he was doing.

Taking a long drink from his canteen, Chris wondered what he would do and say once he caught up with his friend. He understood the killings, even approved. Closing his eyes, he remembered the raw pain he had felt when he had discovered his wife and son had been slain. But he'd had his revenge. He would allow Vin the same. Grabbing the shovel, Larabee headed off to select a gravesite.

Josiah exited Doc Winslow’s office, stopping when he saw the two men waiting without. "Buck. Ezra." He looked closely at his friends. For different reasons, both men were badly shaken the attack on the two women.

Buck Wilmington had been raised in brothels, and had seen more than his share of raped and brutalized women. Only his respect for Vin had stopped him from running the rapists down himself. He had been prowling up and down the boardwalk all morning, trying to ease the tension he felt.

In a like frame of mind, Ezra Standish had stood quietly outside the clinic door, waiting for news. When Ezra had been a boy of twelve, his mother had brought a young woman into their lives. Jane had been fifteen, orphaned, and the loveliest girl he’d ever laid eyes on before. For two wonderful years after, Ezra had fallen ever deeper in love with his "sister". She had become his friend, his confidant, and his refuge from his mother’s world of schemes and swindles. That all ended when Jane had been taken away from him. The police had found her lifeless body miles from their hotel—she’d been beaten and raped. Ezra’s world had shattered then, and now every time he heard of a woman being hurt or killed, the pain and rage returned.

"How is she?" Buck’s worried eyes flicked between the preacher and the clinic door.

"The same. Doc says all we can do now is wait." Josiah smiled sadly. "A few prayers wouldn’t hurt."

"Thanks just the same, Josiah. The good Lord might not want to hear what I have to say right now." Buck spun on his heel, walking the boards once again.

Ezra watched the big man storm off. "For once, he and I are in agreement." Tipping his hat to Josiah, he turned and began the short walk to the closest saloon. If Ella died, Ezra wished to be drunk when he learned of it. If Ella lived, the news would alleviate the upcoming hangover. Standish liked to cover his bets.

Leaning against a rock outcropping on the hill above Purgatorio, Tanner was as still as the air before a summer storm. Still. Dead. His eyes were closed as he listened to the sound of approaching horses. He’d slipped past them an hour ago, unseen and unheard. The men were running for their lives, their fear keeping them from using what few wits they possessed. Vin could hear the heavy breathing of tired horses and tired men. He let the sounds fill him until he could see their approach in his mind’s eye. They would both be focused on reaching the town, falsely believing it represented safety. One, Vin knew, would not make the trip down the slope. Bullock would. Tanner wanted Bullock to die in the very town his brother had, years earlier.

The riders would be in range now. Vin’s opening eyes focused on the rifle's sight as the men rode toward him. A slight smile touched his lips as he saw Bullock bringing up the rear. He’d had the rifle cocked since well before he could hear hoof-beats, and all that was needed was a slow gentle squeeze of the trigger to drop his man.

His shot caught the front man in the belly and sent Bullock bolting for the path down to Purgatorio. Vainly attempting to follow, the wounded man was pulled roughly from his saddle by the tracker. Hauling the screaming man to the nearby rocks, Vin propped him up facing the trail.

Ezra poured another shot of whiskey from the bottle in front of him. He studied the light shining through the amber liquid. It would be dark soon. Tanner and Larabee were still out there. The murderers were still out there, if any still drew breath. Years before, Ezra had confided in Josiah about his loss of Jane. Recently, today, he had come to view his decision as a mistake. Not that the preacher had broken his confidence, Ezra had complete faith in the man's integrity. It was Josiah’s presence that unnerved the gambler. Josiah could see into his heart—a place Ezra had carefully concealed behind barricades built of fear and pain. He resolved to leave immediately, heading back to his own saloon in Eagle Bend. He was safe in Eagle Bend.

Draining his glass, Ezra fought to keep the picture of Ella from his mind. Harder still he fought against the memory of Vin and Ella, laughingly greeting his arrival into town. Ella became Jane and Jane became Ella. Swearing under his breath, Ezra poured and drank one more shot before heading for his room in the hotel.

Chris heard the man’s cries as he rounded the last bend in the trail before it descended down into Purgatorio. As the last tree blocking his view was cleared, he could see Vin crouched down in front of the source of all the noise—a large, filthy and bleeding man. Larabee could see the glint of Vin’s knife as he worked on the man’s exposed chest. He knew Tanner had heard his approach, but the tracker’s eyes never wavered from his task. Drawing up his horse, Chris dismounted and slowly moved in close.

"Hell." He intoned. "Your writin’ ain’t half-bad these days."

"He keeps movin’." Vin explained. He’d tied a rope from one of the killer’s wrists, around the back of the boulder, to the other wrist—effectively ending any resistance. The rifle shot had paralyzed his legs.

"J.D.! J.D.!" Casey Dunne stumbled across the doorway to her home, unable to see through the tears she wept.

"Casey?" J.D. caught his wife up in his arms, holding her close as her sobs wracked her body. He knew what had caused her tears, but needed Casey’s confirmation, even so. "Ella?" His eyes closed in sorrow as Casey nodded her head

Doc Winslow sat in his chair. He had been sitting in it since Ella Lodge’s body had been removed some hours before. He had been sitting in it when Roscoe Jones’ horse had found its way back to town, without its rider. He had sat in his chair and tried to find a reason to stay in this God-forsaken land. A land where death came as often from violence or the elements as it did from disease and age. He felt tired, and he felt old.

Leaning back to admire his handiwork, Vin read the words he had carved into the man’s flesh. Rape. Murder. A part of him wished he had thought of this earlier, had labeled all the men with their crimes. It didn’t really matter. The devil knew them for what they were. He leaned forward one last time, slicing off the fourth scalp for his collection.

He looked over at Larabee. "Too close to town for a fire."

"Got food in my saddlebag."

Vin stood slowly. "Nice clearin’ o’er that way."

Chris shot a glance toward the man propped against the rock, suddenly grown quiet. "He dead or passed out?"

Vin looked down. The eyes were still open, but they no longer were capable of sight. "Dead. Let’s eat."

As Ezra rose from his supper table, he weighed the options before him. He had decided against leaving, although he wasn’t entirely sure what good he could do by remaining. If nothing else, he wished to show support for Vin when he returned to Four Corners. That left him the decision as to how he should spend the intervening time. Leaving the hotel dining room in his wake, the gambler headed toward the closest thing he had to a home in this town—his former saloon.

No sooner had he entered the barroom than he was hailed by Buck and invited to share his table. Josiah was at the bar, presumably getting drinks. Ezra saw him acknowledge his presence and revise the drink order. That simple act of friendship made Ezra realize how much he had missed these men. He sat in the offered chair, removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. It was starting to gray at the temples, a fact that he was still coming to terms with. Neither he nor Buck spoke while awaiting their drinks. There didn’t seem anything to say.

Setting their drinks down on the table, Josiah reclaimed his own seat. Ezra was surprised but relieved that the preacher seemed content to remain silent, as well. The minutes ticked by companionably until J.D. arrived, wanting to be with his friends for a time while Casey and Nettie put the children to bed and comforted each other.

"Boys." He pulled up a chair after getting a beer from the bartender. He looked around the table but was at a loss for words, and the silence descended once more.

It was Josiah who put an end to the quiet, and by then it was welcome. "I was thinking about the time Vin took Ella up to the lake, and J.D. here followed. You never did tell us what you saw."

J.D. grinned. "An’ I never will." The smile vanished. "I didn’t see nuthin’. I left before it got that far. I’d say it was headed in that direction though."

"You must be terribly disappointed, Buck. Your protégé has failed to learn the finer points of voyeurism." Ezra drawled.

"Ezra, you are a skunk. The boy’s a marshal, he can’t go around watchin’ folks…well, hell, I guess he could, but he oughtn’t." Buck sat back and glared at J.D.. "Why didn’t you?"

"Buck!" J.D. feigned shock. "Had to get back to town and spell Rafe at the jail. I was already runnin’ an hour late."

"You see there, Ezra? The boy knows the finer points of voyeur…whatever. He just hadn’t the time."

Josiah could feel the mood lifting as the banter between friends became less forced. His thoughts turned to the three missing members of their close-knit group. Nathan Jackson was at medical school back east, blissfully ignorant of the events taking place. Where Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner might be, Josiah refused to imagine.