Preludes AKA Bath Night

Laying the thick piece of cedar on the chopping block, Chris Larabee straightened, curling his fingers tighter around the smooth ax handle. He raised it above his head and brought it down. A loud thunk rent the air as he connected, the blade vibrating slightly, wood chips spraying the ground.

He rearranged the larger piece of cedar on the block, drawing in a deep breath of its spicy aroma before lifting his ax again into the air. His body settled into a natural rhythm, arms stretched above his head, muscles bunching at his shoulder blades, the fall of the ax and the strong shudder that shook his body as it connected.

THUNK!

Whenever Chris needed to clear his head of late it was to the ax he went. Simple manual labor was a calming thing. Everything seemed to fade when he worked--his troubles, his anger, his frustration, even his grief. The whiskey bottle had lost its allure over the past few months. Or maybe it was just the fact that his inner pain had lessened somewhat. He no longer felt a need for the numbing effects of the alcohol. The simple act of hard work was enough.

He had never been afraid of hard work. In fact he rather enjoyed it way back when he was a kid in Indiana. He had split his share of wood for his family and neighbors. His skill and speed had even won him some cash in those rail-splitting contests. There was a time before the gun when hard work was all he knew of life. It had shaped him, molded him into a grown man. There was a time when his mind had been far from the life of a revolver. He had been just a kid looking toward the future with bright eyes and a sense of hope.

The ax blade caught in a knot and brought Chris sharply back to the present. He jerked hard on the helve and the blade grudgingly came free. Taking advantage of the momentary pause, he set the head on the ground and removed his shirt, using it to wipe his face clean of the sweat that cascaded down. He brushed the cotton cloth over his bare chest where rivers of sweat ran down along corded muscle, tickling his skin, like soft gentle fingers toying with his senses. Soft female hands that seared like flame upon his flesh...

He scowled. Where the hell had that thought come from? He shook his head, beaded drops of sweat were flung into the air by the force of his movement. He knew damn well where it had come from.

Mary Travis.

She had cornered him again in town about that damn party this evening. She had invited all Seven to a gathering in town, a gathering to show their gratitude to the men who kept Four Corners safe. She had been insistent about it.

But he didn't want to go. Didn't want to be thanked. Didn't want to talk to anyone. Being social was never high on his list of things to do. And being social with Mary Travis in public just about made his blood run cold.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. In fact it was just the opposite. He could feel the heat blossom within him at the mere thought of her. He always watched her from a distance, memorizing her every nuance. The graceful elegance of her swan-like neck; the gentle wave of her golden tresses; the defiant fold of her arms when she was determined; the subtle tilt of her head when she was amused; and the oceanic depths of her eyes when she filled them with emotions. She made him forget for just a moment all the hell that his life had been.

That was the reason he was here now. She had approached him in town and invited him. When he had declined she had laid a soft hand upon his, asking him to reconsider. Soft hands with the feather touch of a bird's wing.

He rubbed at his hand absently as if the spot still burned with its heat.

She had pushed no farther and had left to find the others, but Chris had watched her walk away, his eyes riveted to the nape of her long neck, her narrow waist packed so tightly above hips that swayed and bobbed with each sharp click of her heels on the sidewalk. Immediately after, he had stood and within moments fled the town aiming for his newly constructed abode nestled in the hills, safe from people, safe from torrid thoughts, safe from Mary Travis. Or so he had thought.

Angrily, he tossed the shirt over the rail of the small corral he had built last week. Bending down he heaved the split wood onto the growing pile and then set another on the block. He roughly wiped his sweating palms down the length of his pants and picked up the ax to resume his work.

The ax lifted again and came down.

THUNK!

Again and again.

THUNK! THUNK!

A full thirty minutes later, his body glistening, his hair hanging in damp strands over his forehead, his breath a ragged sound in the still air, he leaned over the ax handle, trying to ease his heaving chest. His arms and shoulders ached as tired muscles strained to relax, burning in the attempt. Sweat rolled down his face, clinging to his eyelashes, beading on the end of his nose. Unclenching his death grip around the ax, he brushed his arm over his face and succeeded in only spreading the sheen more.

He straightened, drawing in a deep breath and quickly clutched at a knot in the hollow of his back. Groaning, he wedged the ax head in the chopping block. It had been a long time since he had been that frenzied. God, he hoped he hadn't done something stupid and hurt himself.

He stretched the cramping muscle and then angrily ignored it. He reached for the canteen hanging off a nail in the front porch post. After taking a long draught, he poured the remainder over his head and back, letting the liquid cool his heated flesh. Straightening, he slicked his hair back. The excess pooled in front of his fingers and then ran down the length of his spine in a torrent of wild rivers before collecting in the rim of his pants.

He plopped down in the small wooden chair outside and watched the late morning sun continue its slow crawl up above the horizon. By the time it had almost reached its apex, Chris had fallen into a light doze. Only the barest of whickers from his horse an hour later jarred him into alertness once more. His body tense and still as a cat's, he sat there--listening.

It was a rider.

Vin.

The bounty hunter's horse was the only one Chris' black gelding seemed to like. Chris eased his hand down to his holster draped over the back of the chair just in case he was wrong.

He waited.

ure enough, Vin Tanner emerged from the thicket beside the house. Tipping his wide, loose brimmed hat back, he nodded at Chris. "Afternoon, cowboy," he greeted.

Chris grunted and let loose a yawn, stretching his arms up over his head in a slow, lazy movement. He could still feel a twinge of complaint from his back. Slouching a little more in the chair, he dug his fingers into his eyes and rubbed the last vestiges of sleep from them. "Where you headin'?" he asked Vin.

"Back to town. I promised Mrs. Travis I'd bring back some of these for tonight." Vin gestured to saddlebags packed full of fresh, wild flowers. "Care to ride in with me?"

The image of Vin and flowers should have brought a smile to Chris' lips but it didn't. All it brought was the same frustration and awkwardness that had driven him to the hard physical labor in the first place.

Vin studied his friend's scowl. A lesser man might have assumed it was directed at him but Vin understood all too well the inner workings of the man before him. Chris wasn't scowling at the fact that Vin picked flowers, but at the reason behind it.

Mary Travis.

Still, Vin knew that any attempt to broach that sensitive subject would only drive Chris deeper into his shell. So Vin decided to play another angle.

"Just cause a man picks flowers don't mean he's inclined towards the feminine side."

That did it. Chris blinked a moment, dragged forcefully out of his brood by Vin's comment. "What?"

Vin just smiled. "You're not afraid to ride back into town with me and my flowers, are you?" he challenged.

Vin's expression quickly became infectious. A slight grin also creased the gunslinger's face. "The day I can't take a dainty flower like yourself is the day I hang up my guns." Chris scratched at his arms where some of the sweat from the forced labor had dried.

He felt itchy and his back ached something fierce. Though he hated the notion of going back into town tonight, the thought of a quiet bath beckoned. It was still early enough. He'd be clean and done and on his way back to his solitude long before the party would start, and there would be little chance of meeting up with Mary Travis in the bath house. Chris made a decision. He nodded toward the remuda. "Just let me saddle my horse," Chris said.

Within a few moments they were on their way to Four Corners, Chris' saddlebags packed with clean clothes. It wasn't long before Vin engaged in small talk to pass the time.

"The party tonight should be fun, I expect. A real shivaree."

Chris snorted. "We're talking Mary Travis here, Vin. She's not one for wild festivities."

"But she also invited Buck. Hell, anything could happen whether she wants it to or not."

"Yeah, well she ain't serving booze," the gunslinger noted in an attempt to justify his own seesawing thoughts on his lack of attendance.

"That won't stop the punch from being spiked." Vin turned and grinned slyly at Chris. "Trust me."

Chris laughed at the bounty hunter's devious expression. "She'll have your hide."

Vin appeared innocent. "I'm not sayin' it'll be me. I've just seen the guest list."

"You think Buck will?"

"Or Ezra or Tiny or Mr. Harty. The candidates are endless."

"Nothing in this town ever goes smoothly," Chris agreed.

"Does that change your mind then?" Vin's face held all the innocence of an imp.

Chris tugged his hat lower. "All I want is a nice, hot bath and a quiet evening. No more, no less." He regarded the bounty hunter. "I'm surprised to see you going though. Don't seem like the kind of thing you'd enjoy."

Vin shrugged. "I figure I won't be staying 'round here much longer. Be nice to oblige Mrs. Travis on this one thing. Thank her for her support and all."

Chris shifted in his saddle as if it had suddenly grown uncomfortable. Vin knew why and let the matter drop. It was just as well seeing as Four Corners was just showing over the rise.

"Well, a bath sounds just as exciting, Chris," the man offered. "Though truth be told, I'd prefer a cold mountain stream myself." His horse tugged at the bit eager to get to town and hopefully some oats, so Vin let the mare have her head. They loped ahead of Chris. "Have a nice evenin'" Vin called back over his shoulder.

Chris just watched him go, silent and consumed with thoughts he'd just as soon shove away.

* * *

Chris slipped into town, and kept to the shadows, his black clothes only visible against the bright sky if he let it. There were a few people moving about, but Chris exhaled with relief when he didn't spy Mary Travis' bright aura on the street. He tried to ignore the small part of his mind that cried out his disappointment as well.

She must still be working on today's edition, he thought. Good.

There was a pause in the activity on the street so Chris took advantage of it, striding quickly for the bathhouse. As he entered, he paused in the dim interior which eventually revealed that he was the only one in the bathhouse which suited Chris just fine. His luck was holding.

He noticed Kenny, the bathhouse attendant watching him. Chris nodded to him. He was a middle-aged man with thinning, dark blond hair, streaked occasionally with white. Chris had seen him every now and then in the saloon. The man enjoyed his beer. He never wore a gun and Chris admired him for that.

The attendant regarded the gunslinger, an open magazine lying in his lap, his sleeves wadded up over his large arms. "Bath, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris nodded. Setting his magazine carefully on the table next to him, Kenny gathered a towel, some soap and a coarse brush and handed them to Chris. Then he adjusted his glasses on his nose and resumed his reading.

Unbuckling his holster, Chris set it close by the tub. He yanked down his black pants and then sat down angrily to remove his boots first. He cursed his lax of attention. He was definitely distracted today. And he knew why.

He almost directed an expletive towards the person responsible but then refrained. It was no one's fault but his own. However, the mere thought of the fair-haired widow immediately set into motion his own body's betrayal. It was as if he suddenly had lost his self control, and in his line of business that was dangerous. He had better straighten his head out and soon before he wound up getting killed--or worse, hurting someone else by his distractions.

He remembered the last time his desire had flared so out of control. It had consumed him day and night. Her dark fathomless eyes, her thick curling tendrils, the soft round fullness of her lips.... The ache that he had long tried to bury in rage and alcohol surged again. Sarah's familiar hold still clung to him and his body reacted as if she was standing before him as flesh and bone.

Chris forcibly tore his thoughts back to the present. He stripped roughly, throwing his boots to the floor. Kenny glanced up for a moment at the commotion and then returned to reading his magazine.

With an angry shrug, Chris removed the final remnants of clothes which he tossed to the side with the rest of his stuff. He stood rigid in the still air for a moment, slender and tall, encased in a wall of sculpted muscle. He drew a deep, calming breath.

Control.

It was all a matter of control. He quickly adopted his trademark grimace, and with that in place, he stepped into the copper tub.

Sinking down into its penetrating heat, Chris closed his eyes, relishing the burn as his body struggled to adjust. The pain settled his thoughts and for that he was grateful. A slight breath escaped through the crease in his lower lip, and he leaned back as the warmth pierced deep into aching muscles. His body relaxed. Using powerful fingers, he massaged the knot in his back.

It gradually worked. Slowly, he let go of every tight muscle, dismissed every wayward thought, enjoyed the soothing steam and the quiet moment.

Which was abruptly shattered when Buck Wilmington burst into the bathhouse.

"Hey there, Chris!"

The gunslinger couldn't keep the groan from escaping and slid further into the water until it was almost lapping at his chin. Chris simmered even more when JD came in behind the lanky cowboy.

"Chris!" JD exclaimed, surprised to see their leader. The last anyone had seen of the surly gunslinger he had galloped his horse out of town. JD hadn't expected him to return till tomorrow. There was only one explanation. "You decided to come to the party tonight?"

With a tense sigh, Chris denied the fact. "I just came in to clean up. I expected to have the place to myself since it was so early."

"Well, I figured JD could use the extra time. Casey Wells is gonna be there tonight. The kid needs to primp and preen more than usual." Buck threw some coinage to Kenny and laid claim to the tub nearest Chris. In his other arm, he carried a parcel neatly wrapped in brown paper.

JD scowled and elbowed Buck. "I do not! You make me sound worse than Ezra, for Pete's sake."

Ezra entered the establishment. "Someone mention my name?"

A small splash of water was heard from Chris' direction as he threw his brush roughly to the bottom in exasperation. Muffled mumblings followed soon after.

Buck looked over for a moment at Chris and grinned. Then he regarded Ezra. "What are you doing here?" He threw his hat and coat onto a chair and then placed the parcel on top. He quickly proceeded to work his way out of his clothes, long arms and legs emerging and then stretching in sudden freedom.

Ezra sniffed in disdain at the rustic decor, scowling. "I broke one of my long standing rules and engaged the hotel owner in a friendly game of poker."

Buck was poised naked over the edge of the tub like a wary deer at a watering hole. He tested the water with his big toe and quickly yanked it out. "Yewoch! That's hot!"

JD laughed at the big man's antics while he yanked his own shirt and pants off. He stood quickly, tawny muscles bunching, and jumped into his own tub without complaint. He submerged momentarily and then came up, flinging his saturated hair back. The strands seemed even darker than before. Buck was still stalling. "What's the matter Buck? Afraid your animal magnetism will wash off?"

The scoundrel glared at the kid. "That won't ever go away, kid, so you might as well stop getting your hopes up."

Rolling his eyes, JD grabbed the soap and brush and created enough lather to wash. The excess slid down his chiseled chest to sit atop the surface and bob against his flesh in lazy swells. He watched Ezra reluctantly pay Kenny. "So what happened, Ezra? You lose to Mr. Widderspoon?"

"Hardly," Ezra rebuffed with much affront. "I of course won which only served to enrage the hotel owner. He now refuses to heat my bath water." He poked warily at the brush Kenny slid over to him. God knows where that's been, Ezra thought. He slid it back towards Kenny gingerly and moved to the most sanitary tub he could find. It wasn't an easy task. "I have been forced to seek out a new means of cleanliness here in this public facility. Much to my horror."

"It's not that bad," JD said.

"We come here all the time, Ezra," Buck said over his shoulder, still contemplating his next move.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "My point exactly."

Buck mulled over the fact that he had just been insulted, but then he smiled. "Guess you'll have to rough it with us men."

Taking a deep breath, Buck finally slid into the hot water which was followed by some choice words. Buck never did anything quietly. "Hellfire, Kenny!" he shouted. "What are you making, cowboy soup? Why don't you just eat us and get it over with!"

JD snickered. "Find a carrot in there, Buck?"

"Shut up, kid."

Kenny meanwhile ignored the outburst and remained engrossed in his book.

Ezra painstakingly removed his jacket and vest, folding each layer with precision and care. He scrutinized the chair for dirt before placing his clean clothes upon it. He unpacked his bathing kit and poured some bottled solution into the tub he had chosen. Immediately the gentle scent of vanilla wafted in the air. Then he turned his attention to divesting himself of the rest of his clothing. Three minutes passed before Ezra had removed all his clothes and had carefully folded each piece.

JD paused in his washing to glance at Ezra and was amazed to see how fit the dandy was. Apparently Buck noticed too, and, never one to leave a comment unspoken, burst out, "For a man that don't do no physical labor, you sure do keep fit, Ezra."

The gambler reddened and quickly wrapped the towel around himself, obscuring his muscular physique. "I assure you, one must be ever prepared for the fight or flight aspect of my profession."

"Yeah, but how the hell do you do it?" JD asked incredulously.

"A gentleman never confesses," Ezra replied keeping the towel as a barrier against prying eyes as he stepped warily into the tub. Only when he was suitably covered by the water did he release the towel. He leaned back into the curve of the tub and barely managed to cover the sigh that had sprung to his lips.

Buck threw his chin over his shoulder. "I lost my soap. Give me yours, JD."

"In a minute." JD was furiously scrubbing at his dark hair trying to work a lather.

Chris sighed and threw his own soap blindly behind him. It landed with a splash between Buck's knees.

"Thanks pard."

Chris sank further and just hoped that the quicker Buck and others washed the faster they'd leave him in peace.

The door opened and Vin Tanner's tall, lean form filled the lighted space. "Got room for another one, Kenny?"

Kenny grunted affirmative and handed the necessary bath materials to Vin.

Chris' ire rose. He scowled at Vin. "What are you doing here?"

Vin shrugged, turning away from the surly shootist so that he wouldn't see his smirk. "Decided to beat the rush. Figured everyone would be piling in come another hour or so."

"What happened to your mountain stream?"

"Didn't expect it to be so crowded in here." The bounty hunter found a free tub and peeled off his jacket. With practiced ease he quickly shed the rest of his garments. His exposed skin was bronzed from head to toe, a testament to the fact that the outdoors was more a home than the town of Four Corners. The bulky clothes he always wore hid the fact that he was thin and muscular.

Maybe I should have gone to the mountain stream myself to take a bath, Chris thought testily.

Barely a ripple marred the water's surface as Vin slid into the hot water, a satisfied expression lingering on his face. He rested there a moment in silence before picking up the soap and brush. He observed his friend's irate grimace. Chris' plans for a nice quiet soak had fallen apart with a vengeance. Not that Vin felt sorry for him. He understood the man's need for solitude, but sometimes Chris had a habit of staying off by himself too much. Of course, Vin was no better but Chris tended to be more self-destructive in that state. So when the gunfighter's plans sometimes fell through, Vin thought there must be a reason. Today was no different and therefore Vin felt no remorse about busting in on Chris' solitude.

Chris' panicked flight from town earlier in the day had not gone unnoticed, and Vin's keen observation had immediately spied the reason as she strode down the boardwalk. He also realized what would follow in its wake. Chris' family always hovered nearby whenever Mrs. Travis was about. It was one of the main reasons the two widowed individuals could never seem to get together.

The door opened interrupting Vin's musing. Nathan and Josiah entered and the gathering was complete. The audible groan to Vin's left made the bounty hunter grin. He commiserated with his friend. He really did. He understood all too well how frustrating it was to seek solitude and not find it. Of course, if Chris sank any lower in that tub, he was gonna drown. And that was a fact.

"Any tubs left, Kenny?" Josiah asked, throwing his blanket coat over his right shoulder.

Kenny nodded. "I figured I was gonna be busy today so I brought in the spares. Help yerselves."

"Much obliged."

Josiah and Nathan took advantage of the last two tubs. The big preacher lazily disrobed revealing a soft layer of blond hair on his expansive chest. He rubbed a hand over it absently as if grateful to be free of the confining clothes. Seconds later his pants with the crosses stitched down the sides followed. He folded them with all the care of a priest's cassock over the back of a chair.

Nathan waved at the thick billowing steam that enveloped the small bathhouse. "This must be what it's like in that sweat lodge you keep talking about, JD. You know, the one in Chanu's village." The heat was almost overwhelming.

JD reddened. "Don't remind me," he mumbled still embarrassed about that particular moment.

Nathan quickly undressed, rolling his broad shoulders to alleviate all the aches and pains that had nested there while he delivered Mrs. Joyner's baby that afternoon. It had been a long hard labor. He was looking forward to the warm bath. It was going to feel good and it was just what the doctor ordered. He couldn't help the wide grin as he chuckled over his private joke.

Soon all seven men were submersed in their tubs amidst quiet conversations, gentle scrubbing, muffled laughter and subdued grumbling.

Buck tossed back Chris' soap. "Comin' at you."

The subsequent splash caught Chris full in the face. With a hand that trembled with barely checked vexation, the gunfighter wiped his dripping face. He was gonna kill Buck. He wasn't in the mood for this, but then Chris spied Vin's raised eyebrow and he let his frustration fall away. Vin was right. What did it matter? Everyone had a right to be here, as much as he did. If he didn't want to be immersed in their joyful spirits, he shouldn't have come into town. He couldn't begrudge their good mood just because he didn't share it. After the last few rough months, they deserved some entertainment. It would do them good.

Washing quickly, Chris finished his bath. He rose from the tub, soapy water running down his body, glistening in the lingering light. He lifted the bucket of clean water beside him and dumped it over himself, rinsing the remnants of soap and dirt from his skin. He slipped over the tub's rim and reached for the towel.

Buck followed suit, shaking his shaggy head like a huge dog and letting loose a whoop of surprise as the cooled rinse water hit his heated flesh. Disembarking from the tub he, too, was soon drenched in shafts of fading sunlight that highlighted his olive skin stretched tightly over his frame.

Leaping from the wooden tub, clean and invigorated, JD immediately began rubbing himself briskly with the towel. His muscled body glowing pink from the exertions.

"Are we only allocated one dousing of clean water?" Ezra asked, holding his bucket dubiously in front of him as he stood up in the tub.

Kenny nodded affirmative.

"How uncouth," Ezra commented. He made do quickly and hopped out of the tub to dry off. He swept the bathhouse with an irritated glare. "Weren't there some privacy drapes up before?" he groused, drying the bath water from his skin with the folds of rough cloth.

Kenny peered over his magazine. "I only put them up for the ladies."

Buck burst into laughter. "There's nothing wrong with a bunch of men bathing together, Ezra."

Josiah rose from his tub and eased his massive frame out of the confining contraption. "It's actually a very communal experience. In fact, Ancient Rome had many public baths. The Romans believed it restored the spirit and the body."

"Perhaps that's why Rome fell," Ezra retorted. He pulled on his pants over his narrow hips.

Vin chuckled and stepped from his own bath, the rinse water clinging to his thin body, making it shine and shimmer. Using the towel he scrubbed at his hair, drawing as much of the excess water from it as possible. He ran his fingers through it and found it was longer than he liked. Nettie Wells was coming tonight to the party. It wouldn't do to show up as a scruffy drifter. No, tonight he wanted to look presentable. He barely understood the reasons why but it was the least he could do for Nettie.

Nathan rose reluctantly from the copper tub. He could have stayed immersed in the hot water for another hour. He agreed with Josiah that bathing was a ritual, something to relish occasionally. His skin glistened like melted, dark chocolate while soft patches of white, creamy foam slid down the length of him in sharp contrast to his ebony flesh. Lifting his own bucket, he poured the clean water over his head. It felt good. He scrubbed a hand over his head, quickly shaking the water from his short, cropped hair. He reached for the towel.

Chris stood up, already dressed except for his shirt which was unbuttoned and hanging loose over his tight black pants. Slipping his pistol rig over his shoulder, he pulled together his shirt and began to button it. He was walking slowly toward the door.

"Chris, would you mind giving my hair a trim?" Vin asked.

The gunslinger paused in the doorway, his hesitation plain, but then nodded. He knew Vin had been trying to save money to buy the services of a good lawyer when the time to resolve Tuscosa came around. He gestured for Vin to sit in the chair by the window. There was still some daylight coming in and it gave him some light to cut by. He unhooked his holster from around his shoulder and placed it on the table beside him.

Vin pulled on his buckskin pants loosely, leaving the fly partially undone, and came over, handing a brush and scissors to Chris. "I sharpened them this morning."

"How short do you want it?"

"Not that short. Just get it to my shoulders again."

Chris laid a towel over Vin's shoulders and proceeded to comb out Vin's hair. Picking up the scissors he began the steady snip, snip, snip. It was such a simple task. One he had done a hundred times before. It took only seconds for his mind to be flung into the past, to the countless times he would cut Adam's hair and sometimes even Sarah's long locks. His hands paused in their motions as memories tumbled out from the corner of his mind where he had relegated them. They hit him at the strangest times lately. Maybe because life was becoming more sedate again...more normal. Or maybe because he wasn't so afraid to look at them anymore.

He jerked out of his drifting thoughts and looked around. Everyone one was still going about getting dry and dressed. He resumed his cutting, grateful that no one had caught him. The right side of his mouth tugged upwards. Besides, right now, Vin's hair reminded him more of Sarah's hair than Adam's. He couldn't stop the chuckle that slipped from his lips.

Vin tried to turn around. What the hell was so humorous? But Chris caught his head with his hands and pushed it forward again.

"Hold still."

Buck wandered behind them shrugging into a crisp, clean shirt. "Damn, Vin. How much did you say you wanted off?" He gave a low whistle of exclamation.

Vin once again tried to turn around a little more urgently, a little more unnerved. "What the hell are you doing back there, Chris?" he demanded.

Chris maintained a stern voice and grabbed hold of Vin's head once again. "Just hold still. It's fine."

Vin met Buck's mischievous eyes and scowled. He settled down, resolved to the fact that he trusted Chris more than he trusted Buck.

Bored with his game, Buck sat down in the spare chair and pulled on a pair of fine wool trousers which he had removed from the parcel he had brought in with him.

Chris indicated them with a bob of his chin. "Where did you get the suit?"

Buck looked uncomfortable for a minute. He glanced up at Chris, caught in the process of pulling up a pant leg. "I -- uh -- borrowed it."

"Borrowed it?" Vin queried. "What? Blossom let you have some of her husband's clothes?"

Blossom was just one of the local girls on whom Buck devoted his attention. She had a husband who had the unfortunate habit of continually breaking out of prison. One never knew when the man would pop up. Usually at the most inopportune times, or at least that was Buck's opinion.

"Ha!" Buck exclaimed to the bounty hunter. "Blossom's Billy wouldn't know a good suit from a mountain man's bear skin coat." He reached for the matching wool jacket with all the pretense of walking out the bath house door.

"So where did this fine apparel come from, Brother Buck?" Josiah asked curiously, stopping Buck before he could do what he had a mind to do. Buck's abrupt attempt at departure seemed more like a flight of fear than an eagerness to be off. Josiah had been in Mrs. Potter's store looking for the right duds, too, a week ago. She had nothing that could have fit. Everything had been more than three sizes too small for Josiah which meant that they probably wouldn't have fit Buck's tall frame either. Josiah had bought a suit anyway then for reasons that he declined to think about at the moment. But for tonight, Josiah had opted instead for just his best shirt and pants, straight from Ling Po's laundry. The man did a fine job of removing stains.

Buck squirmed again. He continually glanced toward Chris, but couldn't meet the gunslinger's cool stare. "Does it really matter?" he hedged.

Ezra had his slacks on but unbuttoned, his nimble fingers occupied instead with the covered buttons on his crisp, ruffled shirt. He regarded Buck mildly. "If there is a source for fine haberdashery as yet untapped in this squalid town, then yes, by all means, it does matter."

"Hell, Buck! It's just a suit," JD pointed out. "What's the big deal? Just tell us."

Buck sighed in defeat. He was almost tempted to lie but then refrained. What was said here and now would upset Chris. He knew that. With Buck's luck, he'd be sporting a black eye for the party, but that was okay. Chris would eventually come around and if one were spiritually inclined, then this moment could be looked upon as a turning point in Chris Larabee's life. Which was exactly what it was, at least in Buck's mind. It indicated a time of letting go. He only hoped Chris would see it that way too.

He cleared his throat. "Mrs. Travis gave it to me."

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The implications of Buck's statement were perfectly clear. It was damn obvious whose suit Mary Travis had given Buck.

Buck quickly took in everyone else's expression. Where most of the Seven had merely surprise registering, it was Chris whose face held absolute shock. Shock which slowly, muscle by muscle, gave way to resentment.

"She what?" JD blurted out. "You mean one of Mr. Travis'....You're wearing the suit of a ...." JD's face had paled slightly. "Ewwww," was JD's honest response.

Buck sighed. "Mrs. Travis said we were about the same size and she was going to get rid of them anyway." He directed that last bit toward Chris hoping to ease his suspicion and anger.

Chris just stood there stoically, scissors in hand, staring at Buck with every intention of stabbing Buck Wilmington. Only a slight momentary tremble in Chris' hand revealed the man's overwhelming struggle not to run them through his tall partner.

Vin winced. "Gee, thanks, Buck, for bringing this up just now," he mumbled. He was all too painfully aware that an explosive Chris Larabee stood behind him with a sharp object. Why was it that Buck always invited trouble when Chris held dangerous grooming implements in his hands?

Josiah was the first one to step to Buck's defense. It was obvious that the situation was about to escalate. "I saw Mrs. Travis carting some boxes to Mrs. Potter's store this morning. Didn't know what she was doing." He finished buttoning his shirt and was tucking the ends of it deep into the waistband of his pants. "Maybe it's a sign," he reasoned.

"A sign of what?" JD asked, a grimace still plastered on his face.

Josiah regarded him with a look of infinite patience. "Of moving on."

"You mean Mrs. Travis is leaving?" JD was even more shocked.

The rest of the Seven sighed as one in the small bathhouse.

Chris turned away from Buck and back to Vin, the steady snip of the scissors beginning again though it seemed louder and more aggressive. Vin offered up a silent prayer. The tension in the room didn't completely diffuse but at least no one was dead. Vin felt that was a damn good thing.

JD's eyes kept darting from one man to the next trying to gauge everyone's reactions. He still couldn't get over Buck. How could he? Did people really wear other people's suits, especially people who were dead?

Buck could still see JD's stunned expression. The rest of the men seemed to have already forgotten the matter. He reckoned that they had seen enough hardships in life to understand. But the look on JD's face--the poor kid. Buck felt obligated to explain further. "Look, it was the last suit the man ever bought right before he--he--well, you know. He never even wore the stupid thing! It's just been hanging in the closet as lunch for the moths."

JD let loose a rather loud sigh of relief. "Well, that's a bit better," he returned. "Sheesh, Buck. You had me worried."

"I don't know what the big deal is with this. The way it looks to me, Mary Travis is taking a big step forward. Her mourning days are over. That's good news." He cast his gaze towards Chris. "Or at least it should be for some."

That earned him a glare from Chris. Buck merely threw up his hands.

JD was still flustered over the whole affair. He turned to Ezra, the only one he felt would side with him on this matter. "But I mean, it's still morbid. Right, Ezra?"

Ezra paused in his efforts to get dressed, concerned more with suspicious wrinkles and damp spots than Buck's shenanigans. He raised his head only momentarily to study Buck with a critical eye. "Personally, I'm more offended by the cut of that suit. The width of the lapels alone is atrocious."

That broke the tension in the room. Muted laughter swept through the men. That is except for Chris. Buck watched his volatile friend carefully, but to his surprise, he found the man's expression fairly sedate considering the bombshell he had just dropped. In fact, Chris seemed almost distracted, his eyes distant.

Buck could almost see the steady turning of serious thoughts going on deep in the gunfighter's head. The man had finally made the connection that maybe Mary Travis would soon be available to court. Knowing Chris the way Buck did, he also quickly recognized the expected look of panic that flitted for a second across Chris' face as he contemplated some rather bold moves on his part. The door of opportunity was opening wider now. It was up to Chris to jump through it.

Buck shrugged, feeling a little safer now. He would say no more on the matter, allowing Chris the decision whether he would take advantage of the situation or not. After all, the man was an adult. At least most of the time. Buck grinned.

He had a good feeling about tonight. He was truly looking forward to it. He only wished Chris would change his mind. His being in town for a bath was a good sign. As was the fact that Buck was still alive despite his confession.

Picking up his wet towels and miscellaneous bath stuff, Buck dumped the bundle on the counter, nodding his thanks to Kenny. Then he waved a hand to the rest of the bathhouse crew. "Well folks, I'm off! Got some last minute things to take care of."

"Like what?" JD asked curiously, buttoning his vest as he ran after the scoundrel, his attention already diverted.

Buck placed an all encompassing arm about the boy's shoulders. "Let me introduce you to some things that make a party more enjoyable. There are all sorts of small details left."

The two of them departed, their voices fading away down the boardwalk. Vin grinned wryly. "Like spiking the punch," he added. As Chris whipped the towel off Vin's shoulders and shook it out, Vin ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks Chris."

Chris grunted but said nothing more.

Ezra was brushing his damp hair with a soft brush but regarded the gunfighter despite his careful ministrations. "You are not contemplating anything against our brash Mr. Wilmington, are you Mr. Larabee? I hope you have the decency to wait at least until after Mrs. Travis' soiree tonight." Ezra had grown rather fond of the scoundrel and found he didn't want to see him hurt one way or another.

As he wiped the scissors down, Chris cocked an eyebrow at the gambler. "Buck can do what he likes. It makes no never mind to me."

Ezra pursed his lips. He didn't entirely believe the man in black, especially while he held shiny, steel scissors, but he inclined his head with a smattering of trust and friendship based on their past adventures. Collecting his belongings, Ezra made for the door.

"That's good to hear, Brother Chris," Josiah said.

"I'll say," Nathan agreed. "All I'm askin' for here is a little vacation. I'm wore out fellahs. I don't want to see any of us in my clinic tonight. No stab wounds, no head wounds, no splinters, no stubbed toes. Nothin'! I want to enjoy tonight."

Nathan looked like a man who had reached the end of his wits on the matter. Chris raised an eyebrow at the outburst but inside he was amused. They had been working the man a mite hard lately, Chris mused. The injury toll had been high thanks to the endless parade of greedy ranchers, sadistic wardens, etc. Chris himself had been taking the brunt lately. Nathan, above all the rest, deserved a break. If the healer ever gave up, the rest of the Seven would no doubt be in trouble.

Chris stared at Nathan's frowning face, noting the determined fold of his arms across his chest, the steady glare of his large, dark eyes. He relented. "You got my word, Nathan."

Nathan's scowl immediately burst into his trademark, expansive smile. He jerked his chin at the door, indicating to Josiah that they too should depart. Josiah nodded and gathered his and Nathan's things. They conveyed their thanks to Kenny and headed back to the church.

Vin was shrugging into his maroon shirt, the best one he owned. He watched Chris with an idle eye as the man finished buttoning his own dark shirt and then began strapping on his gun holster. "You think you might be coming to the party tonight, Chris?" Vin figured he would broach the subject one last time since it seemed that Chris was taking these recent events with a tad more reserve than usual.

Unsatisfied with the lay of his guns, Chris readjusted them on his hips and then rebuckled them. "I don't think so," he answered slowly, almost hesitantly. "I'm not much on being social."

Vin smirked. That was the understatement of the year. "You know, no one will probably bother you too much. Most everyone in town is still plum afraid of you. Just glare quietly in the corner and the crowds will stay away."

Chris wasn't sure if Vin was joking or not. The man's subtle humor was a constant surprise. He allowed a small smile none-the-less. "Then what's the sense of going?" he argued.

Vin shrugged, slipping his buckskin coat over his arm. "Sometimes just being there is enough for some people," he stated matter-of-factly. He picked up his hat and nodded to the gunfighter. There was a moment of silence and Vin knew that the planted seed of thought was already being considered. Vin also knew nothing else needed to be said. "'Night, Chris." He quietly left the bath house.

Chris stood there in silence for a moment. Vin was always doing that, leaving thoughts ringing in his head, ones he usually didn't want to contemplate. He shook his head though it didn't dislodge the unwanted thought like he hoped. Sighing, he gathered his saddlebags and with a nod to Kenny, went out the door.

The sun was below the horizon, leaving the sky a deep lavender. Even if he left town now, by the time he made the cabin, it would be completely dark. He glanced over at the boarding house. Most likely a room was still free. What would it hurt to stay a night in town?

He heard a woman's soft laugh and quickly found Mary Travis leaving Mrs. Potter's store. Chris slipped back into the shadows of the bath house entrance and watched the two women. They seemed happy and excited. The party tonight was one of the biggest to-dos around here since the Seven had all arrived so long ago. It was probably good for the town. It would quiet them down and ease tensions that had been flaring of late. Normal people needed such distractions.

Mary Travis was still wearing her printer's apron. Chris liked it when she wore it. It spoke volumes about the woman's fierce independence and candidness, a badge of honor in a way. Chris admired that. He never did like quiet, subdued women. There was a rampant fervor in her that matched his own and he guessed that's what scared him at times. She was a lot like Sarah in some ways.

And that was another thing that scared him.

Hell, there was a lot of things that scared him about Mary Travis which is why he stayed away most of the time. Things always got so heated when they talked, even if it wasn't always an argument. He rubbed his hand again absently. He had been completely honest with Top Hat Bob that day. There were a few women he was afraid of. Mary Travis was one of them.

He waffled again about staying. He didn't really want this kind of dust up tonight. He wanted peace and quiet. However, his attention strayed back to Mary Travis and Gloria Potter as they separated. Mrs. Travis was heading home, her step light, her face expectant, showing her eagerness to attend the party. He watched her till she disappeared inside her office and it was as if the sunlight had gone all together from the street. It seemed darker suddenly.

He leaned against a nearby post, his thoughts refusing to let things go. He owed Mary Travis a great deal. He knew that. This hootenanny meant a great deal to her. He knew that, too. But it wasn't him. It never would be until he settled some things. But it didn't mean he didn't care.

She did seem happier tonight. Maybe Buck was right. Maybe she was letting go of things. Chris wasn't ready for that himself, but he certainly didn't begrudge her decision. She had a son to think about. Maybe if Adam were still alive, Chris' life would be very different. Thinking about someone other than one's self forced a person to make different choices in life.

Chris straightened, shaking off the disturbing thoughts. He looked about the town. It was quiet for a change. Most people were locking up early in order to get ready for the party. A light wind rustled the papers tacked up on the outside walls. He had grown to like Four Corners and that had surprised him. He couldn't remember a town he had ever felt at ease in before. Most of the towns he stayed in were dirty, one-horse towns where you walked around with an itch between your shoulder blades and a twitching, trigger finger because of it.

Here, though, it was different and he knew why. There was family here now. A new kind of family and new friends. His eyes fell again on The Clarion.

Sometimes just being there is enough.

Vin's words echoed in his head. Drawing a deep breath, he made a decision. With the town and the Seven occupied with the party, someone needed to patrol the streets. He would stay in Four Corners tonight and watch over it while the townsfolk enjoyed a pleasant evening. A lone sentry guarding what was precious to him. It would be enough.

At least for now.

The End