"Sorry ‘bout hittin’ you. How’s the head?" Those were the first words Tanner had spoken since Chris had asked after the dead man. In that time the two men fed, watered and rested their horses and themselves. They were waiting for twilight before starting the trip down into town..

"It’ll do. Hurts a bit." Hesitating slightly, Chris looked at his friend. "No one’ll find the bodies. Not for a while, anyway. You gonna tell me what this was all about? I knew Roscoe, but I’ve ne’er even seen the others."

"Ben Bullock. It was him behind it. A couple of years ‘fore we met, when I was still collectin’ bounties, I tried arrestin’ ol’ Ben and his brother, Andy. They’d killed a man o’er in New Mexico territory. Ended up with me killin’ Andy an’ woundin’ Ben pretty bad. Ben did five years for the killin'—not sure where he’s been since."

"How’d he find you?" Chris could guess.

"Roscoe. Guess he ‘n Bullock met up down here a while back an’ ol’ Roscoe mentioned my name. Bullock got real interested. Them others, I’d brought two of ‘em in before—Wills and Ortiz. Can’t say ‘bout that other one. Ne’er seen him before. He's the feller told me 'bout Roscoe an' Bullock gettin' together." Vin looked toward town, willing the sun to slip beneath the horizon.

Chris absorbed the brief history. He remembered the relief he had felt when he learned Sarah’s and Adam’s deaths were not due to anything he'd done. Vin would never know that relief.

"When I first caught up to ‘em, they’d set an ambush. Damn near had me. Spied one of ‘em up in some rocks—the sun caught his rifle. That’s when I got Roscoe. The others didn’t e’en know at first. I rode out ahead of ‘em and set up my own surprise."

Vin paused as Chris smiled in approval.

"I shot Ortiz next. They’d split up to make it harder, but I went high an’ saw what they were up to. No matter nohow—both trails end up on the main road to Purgatorio. I moved ahead some and sat waitin’ again. They stopped to rest an’ I heard ‘em talkin’. The one I gelded was doin’ most of the talkin’. Don’t know his name, but I ain’t gonna lose no sleep o’er killin’ ‘im. I figured Bullock and Wills would try shootin’ me, but they ran like scared rabbits. Cost ‘em their lives, more’n likely."

Chris could picture the panic urging Bullock on toward Purgatorio. By then he must have realized his mistake and the probable consequence.

"Wills was ridin’ in the lead, makin’ it easy. When he went down, Bullock ne’er looked back. Drove spurs to hide an’ was gone in a flash. Ya know the rest, I reckon." Vin stared bleakly at the horizon. "I ne’er hated no one ‘fore this, Chris. I swear it."

Chris nodded.

Vin looked down on the town, now heavy with shadows. "I promised her, Chris. I promised Ella I’d take care of her."

"She knows you love her, Vin. That’s what the promise meant. She won’t blame you." Chris hoped it was true. Sarah had never had the chance to blame or forgive him for breaking the same promise. Chris rose to saddle his horse. It was growing dark.

Vin nodded. "Thanks, Chris." He moved to saddle his own mount.. Trailing fingers across the four dangling scalps, Vin muttered softly. "Won’t be long now."

Chris pretended not to hear.

His work at the saloon finished, Josiah returned to his church. J.D. had left to be with his family, but Buck and Ezra would keep each other company until both were tired enough to find sleep.

Josiah Sanchez needed solitude to focus on Ella’s funeral and what, if any, comfort he could offer Vin once the man returned. He would return—neither Vin nor Chris was aware of Ella’s passing.

The church was dark and Josiah lit the lamp just inside its doorway. As the wick caught the flame he heard movement near the front pews. Fighting the urge to pull his gun, Josiah tried to make out who his visitor was.

"Winslow?"

"I’m sorry." The doctor rose to his feet, preparing to leave.

"I’m the one sorry, if I’ve caused you to leave. I could use someone to talk to, if you’d oblige me by stayin’." Josiah strode the length of the church, taking a seat in the pew opposite Winslow’s.

"Of course." Winslow slowly sat back down.

"I’ve been thinkin’ about the funeral today. Elizabeth was a good woman, and she deserved more than I gave her."

The doctor’s eyes widened in surprise. "Josiah, your service was as good as any such sad duty can be. I found myself wondering how odd that such a tragic occasion could be marked by such beautiful words. No one could find fault with you."

"I can, and do. I spoke the words, but those were not my words. My words were filled with anger and hate. Elizabeth should have been put to rest by a man capable of forgiveness." Josiah stared at the pulpit. "Perhaps I’m not the man of God I’d thought I was."

Paul Winslow laughed softly. "Do you know how I spent the afternoon? What I did after Ella died? I sat in my office and tried hard to find some good my staying here would do this community. I found no answer." He looked around the church. "So I came here to seek one."

"Did you?" Josiah asked.

"No. Not until you arrived." He stood and looked down at the preacher. "You have an annoying habit of placing perspective on things, Josiah."

"I do my best, Dr. Winslow." Josiah smiled up at the man. "As do we all."

"Yes. Well, since I’m apparently not leaving town in the foreseeable future, I’d appreciate it greatly if you would call me Paul."

Josiah stood and offered his hand.. "I’d be pleased to…Paul."

As darkness settled in over the land, the two men rode casually into Purgatorio. Neither had had occasion to visit the town in the last several years, but it hadn’t visibly changed. In fact, it looked nearly the same as the first time they’d seen it—in Tanner’s case that was nearly ten years ago.

Vin hadn’t told Larabee where they were headed, but Chris could guess. There was only one man living in the town that they had come to trust--Pedro Valencia. Vin had saved Pedro’s life years ago, and the man had proved an invaluable resource ever since. He knew who was in town, where they could be found, and whether they had friends. Chris wasn’t surprised when Vin pulled up his horse to the rear of Pedro’s house and led the way to the back entrance.

"Quienes?" It was Pedro’s voice.

"Vin Tanner. Open up!"

The door cracked open and the man inside gave Vin the once-over, his eyes widening at the sight of bloodstains. "Madre de Dios!"

Vin pushed past Pedro into the room, waiting until Chris had entered and closed the door behind them. "Be quiet and listen. I’m after a man named Bullock. He rode in here this afternoon. Know ‘im?"

"I know Bullock. He comes here sometimes. When he does, he stays with Juana Rosales. He is a bad one, senor. He beats Juana, and it has been said he kills for pleasure. If he is in town, he will go to Juana’s." Pedro smiled widely. "You will kill him?"

"I plan to." Vin pushed the memory of Ella’s smiling face from his mind. "Just as soon as you tell us where this Juana lives."

Casey snuggled closer against J.D.’s side as they lay in their bed. "You know, I was there when they first met. Ella’d just started workin’ for Gloria at the store. She told me she loved him from the moment she set eyes on him." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "And now she’s dead."

J.D. held her close, trying to keep his own grief under control. Vin Tanner was one of his closest friends, and his loss cut J.D. to the bone. He turned to kiss the tears from Casey’s face and felt a familiar need start to build. As he ran a hand down her side to pull at her nightgown, Casey began to respond with kisses of her own. For a few hours at least, they would be lost in each other’s arms, safe from the pain outside their home.

Pedro had provided them with a good description of the house where Bullock could be found, right down to the broken pottery on the rear porch. The two men had left their horses with Valencia and walked the short distance between the buildings. Vin motioned for Chris to stay back as he crept onto the porch, freezing as one of the boards creaked loudly. No sound came from the house, and after a few minutes had passed Vin continued making his way to the back door.

Trying the knob, he wasn’t surprised to find it locked—to find it otherwise would have signaled a trap. Stilling his breathing, he listened for the sounds of movement—he heard none. He was unwilling to believe Bullock was asleep, if he was inside he was either with Juana in the bedroom or waiting for Vin’s arrival, gun at the ready. Chris motioned to get his attention. Vin nodded in a agreement as his friend pointed to the front of the house. Chris would make sure Bullock didn’t bolt. Moving slowly to the window, Tanner pressed his ear against the glass. The sounds he heard brought an unpleasant grin to his face. Bullock was in the bedroom.

Unholstering his sawed-off Winchester, Vin returned to the door, put his shoulder against it and heaved. The door refused to budge. Abandoning any pretense at stealth, he kicked the knob until the lock gave and the door swung open. It took only a few seconds to reach the bedroom, and slam the length of his gun into Bullock’s face as the man tried to reach his pistol belt.

The blood spurting from his broken nose, Bullock started to reach for the knife sheathed in his discarded boot. Tanner hit him again, rocking the man backward against the room’s wooden wall. . He holstered the bloody carbine, he had no intention of shooting anyone in the near future. Retrieving the boot knife himself, Vin held it tauntingly in front of Bullock’s eyes.

"You want it? You got it." Suiting action to words, Vin raised Bullock’s left hand with his own and used his right to drive the blade home between the bones of the forearm—pinning the man to the wall. He grabbed the man’s other wrist and held it firmly against the boards.

Dimly he was aware of Chris behind them, ushering Juana out of the room and standing guard in the doorway. He was even less aware of Bullock’s curses. Vin Tanner was aware of only one thing. The man responsible for Elizabeth Lodge’s murder and Ella’s injuries was in his grasp.

"You’re goin’ to hell Ben, just like your miserable brother." Pulling his own knife, and turning the blade edge up, Vin drove it deep into Bullock’s lower gut. As he looked into the hate-filled eyes, he smiled. "Say howdy to Andy for me." Bringing the knife up and out, Vin felt Bullock spilling over his hand. He reached up with the knife and claimed his trophy—the fifth scalp. Backing away from the ruined body, Vin turned to see Chris watching him.

"Is it over?" The words were the same ones Vin had spoken years earlier, after Chris had avenged his family’s murders.

Vin moved away from what had been Bullock. "It’s over. Let’s go."

Sunlight blazed a path through the streets of Four Corners. The day would be hot and dusty, as most days in May were. Turning his gray hair to white, the sun greeted Josiah as he left the cool sanctuary of his church. His thoughts were on Vin Tanner and Chris Larabee, hoping for a safe passage home for both men.

He headed toward the hotel for breakfast, hoping he would find companionship to ease the first of the days long hours. This afternoon he would bury Ella Lodge.

Tanner and Larabee had ridden by moonlight for an hour after leaving Purgatorio. Vin’s bloodstained clothes had been disposed of and replaced by pants and shirt that Pedro had provided. The scalps had been removed from his horse’s mane, hidden away in his saddlebags. They took turns sleeping during the remainder of the night, and at dawn began their ride back to Four Corners.

Pulling up his horse, Vin stared apprehensively at their destination, now but a short ride away.. "Ella’s dead, Chris. You saw how Winslow was."

Chris had stopped beside him, remembering the doctor’s words and the expression he wore when saying them. "Yeah, I did. But that don’t mean she’s dead, Vin. I seen folks worse off than Ella make it just fine. So have you."

"Maybe." Vin drew back his shoulders and gave his horse a kick to start him along toward town. "Maybe."

Checking the final preparations, the preacher grudgingly admitted there was no more to be done. The grave was dug, the coffin loaded into the glass-sided hearse, and the horses were hitched. Ella Lodge was ready to make her last journey. Already the mourners were gathering in the cemetery. It was time.

Riding quietly through the center of town, both men took note of the absence of people in shops and street. As if compelled, they guided their horses to Four Corner’s cemetery on the outskirts of town.

The crowd that gathered among the graves was silent as Josiah set yet another soul on the path to heaven. The preacher’s strong voice and gentle words gave comfort to all present. To all but the two newest mourners, who dismounted and walked slowly through the gathered townsfolk.

Vin Tanner stopped at the graveside, slowly forcing his eyes to the carved cross which lay near the mouth of the grave. Ella Lodge. His heart turned to ice as he read the name. He’d thought he’d been prepared, but he found he wasn’t.

Josiah finished his service, watching the grief settling over Vin’s face as the realization sank in. Ella was dead. The old preacher shifted his gaze to the man who, in many ways, was still their leader.

Chris understood Josiah’s unasked question, and nodded his assent. He’d look after Vin. Maybe he was the only one who could.

The man they worried over tore his eyes away from the cross and knelt beside the grave. He tossed the customary handful of dirt, and rose back to his feet. One by one his friends approached. A hand on his arm, his shoulder—a murmured condolence. Vin stood frozen, neither refusing nor accepting comfort. Nettie Wells stood at the edge of the rapidly dissipating crowd. Casey helped her aunt walk to Vin’s side.

The old woman stood with a straight back and a head held high. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, but how many were for Ella and how many for Vin, even she could not say. Vin enfolded her in his arms, hugging her to him as if she could take away the pain. When he finally released her, he realized his face was wet with tears of his own.

With one last squeeze of his arm, Nettie turned to leave. Casey gave Vin a quick, hard embrace of her own before leading her aunt away.

The mourners filed out until the only two people left standing at the grave’s edge were Chris and Vin. Larabee knew better than to try to come up with something comforting to say. It wasn’t words Vin needed, but time to heal.

At the far edge of the cemetery Earl, the gravedigger, waited respectfully for their departure. Vin walked over to him and reached out his hand for his shovel. Earl handed it over without hesitation.

Josiah was not surprised to find Vin Tanner burying Ella, he had half-expected it. Chris had retired to the spot formerly occupied by Earl, giving his friend as much privacy as possible without actually leaving.

The preacher joined Chris in his surveillance. He had noticed Vin’s change of clothes earlier, and was reasonably sure of the reason for it. The questions would never be asked. Not by him, nor by any other of the men making up the close circle of friends.

Josiah suspected he was better served by his ignorance.

"She never woke, Chris. You might tell Vin, when he’s ready to hear." With one last look at Tanner’s grim expression, Josiah turned to seek the refuge of his church.

The hand on his arm brought him up short. "Thanks, Josiah. For everything."

Josiah nodded and looked into the sad blue eyes of a man most considered a stone-cold killer, even now. He had never believed it. Chris Larabee had built a wall around himself with bricks of grief and anger, and now Josiah feared Vin Tanner might well do the same.

With the placement of Ella’s cross, Vin Tanner finished his work on her grave. He sat staring at her name and the dates that were carved into the wood. She'd been only twenty-four when she had died. Twenty-four and as full of life as anyone he had known. Vin had been in love before, more than once, but with Ella it had been different. She'd had a way of knowing what he was thinking, even when he wasn’t sure himself. By the time he had gotten up the nerve to propose marriage, Vin was no longer certain which of them had done the pursuing, and which had been caught.

Tracing her name with his fingers, Vin felt fresh tears work their way down his face. It was too soon. He couldn’t yet accept he would never see her again. Never again feel her in his arms or hear her cries as they made love.

"They’re all dead, darlin’. They won’t be hurtin’ no one else. You an’ your ma rest easy. I’ll be a while yet, I reckon." Vin rose and brushed the mixture of sweat and tears from his face. He looked for his hat, realizing numbly that Chris had taken it with him. He left the shovel and joined Chris at the fence.

"I’ll be leavin’ for a spell. Don’t know how long." Vin knew Chris understood, perhaps better than Vin himself did. "I’d appreciate you sayin’ good-bye for me."

"I will." Chris agreed, following Tanner as he made his way to the livery. J.D. had taken care of their horses once the funeral service had ended. The walk took them to the other end of town.

"They’re comin’." Buck turned from the saloon’s batwings and rejoined his friends at their table.

J.D. looked glumly at his best friend. "Leave ‘em be, Buck."

Buck was remembering when it was he and Chris making the long walks. "Don’t you worry none, kid. Remember, I’ve seen this before."

"Sorry, guess you have."

"Gentlemen. I suggest a toast to the conclusion of this tragic episode." Ezra raised his glass, waiting for his companions to follow suit. One by one the glasses raised. Ezra downed his drink and poured a refill. He had spoken his condolences, and offered his support. Ezra knew his usefulness had come to an end, at least as far as Vin Tanner was concerned. He could not bring himself to leave, however. Perhaps he needed his companions more than they needed him. The thought was sobering.

"Josiah, did Vin or Chris say anything?" J.D. flushed darkly. "I’m not asking as marshal, just as a friend."

"Then you should, as a friend, know better than to ask, John Dunne." Josiah stared meaningfully at the younger man.

"I know, it’s just…" J.D. began.

"You’re curious?" Josiah smiled bitterly. "As am I, my friend. But what happened is between Vin and the Lord, and I won’t question either of them on the subject."

J.D. sipped his whiskey. They all knew what had likely occurred, but pursuing the truth, in this instance, helped no one. J.D. let the matter drop.

"So." Ezra enjoined. "Who do you gentlemen favor in the Four Corners Invitational? I understand the field of horses is extraordinary this year."

"My money’s on Buckskin Bill, for obvious reasons." Buck smiled as he named his choice.

"Buck, "I" could out-race that horse! It’s got to be Soldado. He’s won his last two races." J.D. looked askance at his friend.

"Soldado? Didn’t he lose to Moneybelt?" Ezra smiled. "If memory serves…"

Josiah pursed his lips. "Amazing Grace. If you’re willing to stay in town long enough to pay up or collect, Ezra, my bet is on Amazing Grace."

Ezra’s face reflected his surprise. "You do know the reference, do you not? Amazing Grace is a whor…"

"A horse that couldn’t win a three-legged race with all four legs goin’." Buck finished for the gambler.

Ezra shot the big man a dirty look, but remained silent.

Josiah smiled slyly. "All the same, it’s where my money would go." Josiah knew the woman the horse had been named after. She’d been a source of comfort more than once over the passing years.

"Fine. I’ll record your wager. I suppose, if my presence is needed here, I can stay until the race has been run." Ezra gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Good. ‘Bought damn time I won some money from you, ‘stead o’ the other way ‘round." Buck nodded fiercely.

Vin finished tightening the cinches on his saddle. "Do me a favor?" He looked over at Larabee, leaning against the neighboring stall door.

"Name it." Chris answered.

"Take these" Vin fished out the scalps he’d taken from the depths of his saddlebag. "and drop ‘em down the nearest shithouse?"

"My pleasure." Chris accepted the bloody trophies. He’ wondered what Vin would do with them.

Vin stroked his horse’s neck, soothing himself as well as his horse. "Don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m thinkin’ I just need a little time alone." He began to back his horse out of the stall.

Chris backed up, trailing Vin as the tracker passed by with his horse. Stopping at the mouth of the livery, Vin turned to face him. Chris braced himself for the farewell.

"Ya know I’ll be back, so this ain’t a good-bye. Take care o’ Ezra for me. He ain’t nearly so tough at he thinks." Vin looked hard at his friend. "An’ take care o’ yourself."

"Ezra’s tougher than you think, Vin. But just in case I’m wrong, you hurry back." Chris worked at keeping his face blank, but the effort failed.

Vin looked away for a moment. He didn’t want to see the loss in his friend’s eyes. "Be back ‘fore you miss me. That’s as close to a promise as you’re gonna get."

"Then I’ll take it." Chris clasped his friend’s arm, gripping tightly.

"Don’t worry ‘bout me, Larabee." Vin returned the grip. "I’ll be alright."

"I know." As the contact broke, Chris stepped back from Vin and his horse, watching the man mount and settle himself in the saddle.

Vin turned to look again at the man who’d become closer than kin in the years they had known one another. "See ya, pard." He rode slowly out of the livery stable.

Chris strode past the livery entrance and watched as Vin rode out of town. He didn’t know why, but he was sure he would see the man before long. He chalked it down to wishful thinking and headed for the saloon. He had a feeling his other friends would be gathered there, and right now he could use the company.

The table grew quiet as Larabee entered the room. Vin was nowhere to be seen. The logical conclusion came to all three men at once.

"Mr. Larabee. How nice of you to join us." Ezra gestured to a free chair. He poured Chris a shot of whiskey and placed it before the empty seat.

Chris took the chair and the drink.

"Vin gone?" Josiah cut to the chase.

"Yeah." Chris lifted the glass to eye level before draining it in one swallow.

"Did he say how for how long?" Josiah asked.

"No." Chris began to wonder the wisdom of seeking out his friends.

"So who do you favor for the Four Corners Invitational?" Josiah asked, his face and manner earnest.

‘What?"

Vin Tanner rode until the sun began to sink over the mountains. He had headed east, with no destination in mind. The colors of the sunset nearly drove the pain from his heart and the breath from his body. Ella was in that sunset, and she would be in the sunrise come morning. He had lost her body, but her soul still rode with him. Easing himself from the saddle, Vin stared at the changing sky.

A gentle breeze blew his hair across his face, caressing it as Ella once had. Vin looked up toward the darkening sky, seeing her face in the clouds. He knew then that his exile would be short and that Ella had not abandoned him, even in death.