Part Seven

Showdown in Four Corners

Although Buck Wilmington had known Chris Larabee for years and had more or less become to accustomed to all of the man's idiosyncrasies, he had to admit that there were still habits in his old friend's possession that he would never become used to, how much time had passed. Most prolific of all these, was Chris' damnable patience. No matter how tense or disagreeable the situation, Chris always seemed to take it in stride, letting none of it penetrate that veneer of indifference as he sat patiently and waited things out. Buck on the other hand, who possessed no patience whatsoever and hated playing endless waiting games, preferring things to happen quickly instead of wasting time in procrastination.

As he waited with Chris on the roof of the Pemberton Emporium, his eyes shifting from one end of the horizon to the other at regular intervals, Buck tried to imitate the serene patience being displayed by his injured friend. Chris did not react to Buck's incessant fidgeting as they continued to wait, watching the morning drag slowly as they waited for the arrival of the mercenaries. The town was almost deadly quiet, with no one on the street that was not required there.

Across the roofs of many buildings across town, men were stationed with guns. The attack the night before had proven how advantageous it was to have their target pinned from a height and in the onslaught that would soon be, they needed to make further use of that discovery.

Nathan, Ezra, J.D., Josiah was at ground level because they were most capable of dealing with the mercenaries in a face to face confrontation. Chris would remain on the roof of the Emporium because his physical state made him vulnerable even though he could do a great deal of damage to the enemy from this altitude. Four Corners looked like a ghost town with not even horses insight. As Buck cast his gaze throughout the town, he saw a few shapes through the windows of some buildings. Despite himself, he hoped he had done right, allowing Inez to remain in the saloon instead of secreting her some safe like the rest of the women in town. She had been determined to protect the bar although she did promise to keep out of sight unless trouble came through the door. Fortunately, she would not be alone as Ezra had taken up position at the saloon just to alleviate Buck's anxiety on the issue. Although, once he was done here with Chris, Buck had every intention of joining them both.

Alex and Julia were presently in the Emporium, guarding the injured hiding beneath the lower levels of the building, while elsewhere Mary and Rain were keeping a similar vigil on those under their charge. Even Casey who was a reasonable shot, according to J.D., had armed herself and prepared to defend herself against the attackers who had still yet to show but whose presence was felt throughout town, even in their absence.

"Buck quit fidgeting." Chris said finally when Buck's nervousness stretched thin even his limitless patience. "You're working yourself up."

"I don't know how you do it." Buck complained as he kept staring out at the horizon, wishing these mercenaries would just get here so that they could get this whole day over and done with. "I'm sweating bullets here. Doesn't it bother you at all?"

"Of course it bothers me." Chris retorted, wondering how Buck could imagine it would not. His wife was here not to mention his son, well stepson, but the just the same his family, would be in danger just like Inez and Buck's unborn child which was really what held his old friend's concern. "But I ain't no good to anyone if I'm a shaking like a leaf and neither will you, so I'm telling you now, calm. .down." The gunslinger said firmly.

Buck swallowed hard and knew Chris was right. He was helping no one being this way and now more than ever he needed to be alert. "There was a time when the larger the odds the more challenge I saw in a good fight, now I can't see straight for worrying about this town and the people in it. Damn it Chris, since when did one place come to mean so much to us? First rule of the life was that we couldn't afford to care."

Chris tried to keep himself from smiling faintly because these were questions that sounded more appropriate coming from him. Had he not asked these things of himself repeatedly since arriving in Four Corners? "Things change Buck. Our kind of life is disappearing fast like the buffalo and all the ways we use to know. Pretty soon, progress is going to make us obsolete."

"I've been thinking about that idea of yours about going back to ranching." Buck replied after a slight pause. "If you think that we can do that again, I can't see no reason not to join you and Vin. I guess its time for me to face up to a couple of things in my life and you're right, pretty soon we all got to move on."

"Sure thing, partner," Chris answered, genuinely pleased that Buck had accepted his offer. Any return to ranching would seem odd without Buck and for the first time in too long, Chris felt his life returning to some semblance of familiarity he had known before the fire.

"Partner." Buck grinned and then added. "Assuming of course, we don't get killed before the day is out."

"You're almost sounding as bad as Josiah." Chris retorted when suddenly, they heard a voice call out.

"They're coming!"

Chris' expression was immediately drained of its humour and that hard mask fell over his face again. He met Buck's gaze with a steely look of black before uttering simply. "Its time."

Although Ezra Standish looked calm and collected as ever when he heard the call, only those who knew him could see the line of tension running through his being. Keeping a vigil next to the doorway of the saloon, the gambler peered outside the bat wing doors into street, completely aware that while the enemy was sighted, it would be a few more minutes before they actually made it into town. Providing they survived the reception that Buck and Chris had waiting for them, that is. Buck had spent most of the day wiring up a safety perimeter around the town almost every stick of explosive that he had managed to scrounge.

Detonation would be handled by at least two more townsfolk, one of them being Robert Freeman who knew a little something about explosives as well, harkening back to his mining days before he had opted for a more rural existence. The charges would ensure that by the time these bandits made it into town, their numbers would be severely curtailed. Most of the townsfolk had hoped that this would be enough to sent their attackers running but the seven knew that this was not so. Men hired for an operation like this would not run at the first signs of adversity.

Suddenly, he heard movement behind him and Ezra swung around to see Inez emerging from the top of the stairs, with a shotgun in hand. The weapon looked all too big for her and appeared cumbersome in her grip as she made her down the steps.

"Miss Rosillios, what on earth do you think you are doing?" Ezra asked although it seemed perfectly obvious, no matter how incredulous it might be.

"I am helping you." She said firmly, with a voice that broke no argument as she approached him. Unfortunately, in this instance she was going to get one.

"No you are not." Ezra replied just as strongly. "You will take yourself upstairs and get under some cover. If anything were to happen to yourself and the little one, I may never hear the end of it from Mr. Wilmington."

"I can take care of myself." She retorted, looking resolved to stay no matter what he said.

Ezra swore under his breath and looked out the street, as of yet there seemed no indication of invading bandits and mercenaries before turning back to her. Ezra had known Inez long enough to realize that if she was determined to do this, there was nothing he could say that would convince her otherwise. The woman gave stubbornness a bad name. "If you insist on this foolishness, would you at least get behind the bar where you are afforded some measure of cover?"

"That I can do." Inez conceded, deciding that some of his concern was valid and quickly slipped past the counter as he requested.

"Thank you." Ezra rolled his eyes in resignation before facing front again. "There is a great deal of trouble coming our way my dear and it would not impress me if you are hurt."

"Why Ezra, I didn't know you cared." She teased as she loaded the shotgun behind the bar.

"Of course I care," Ezra looked over his shoulder and grumbled. "For you and your new arrival. Besides, I must admit a perverse desire to see how Mr. Wilmington fares as a father."

"You and me both." Inez sighed, trying not to let worried about Buck get to her at this moment. After their conversation last night, she realized just how much she cared for him and while there was something inside her that was still adamant in not marrying him, Inez knew she wanted him in her life and the life of their child. There had been nothing false about his declaration yesterday when he confessed how much he wanted to be a father to the baby.

"They're reaching the perimeter!" The lookout sentry cried out and Ezra tensed inwardly, making last minute checks of his guns not to mention his store of reserved ammunition. Once he had completed these examinations to his satisfaction, he turned to Inez and added one last instruction. "Keep your head down, it is about to get extremely chaotic around here."

Inez was not about to argue with him.

There were at least thirty, possibly forty men thundering towards Four Corners with such speed, they created a dust storm of their own. Chris saw the numbers bearing down on the town and realized Selena Quint must have acquired more men during the last few days to replace the numbers of those lost during the raids in town and to boost their forces for this last onslaught. They were a quite a sight as they rode hard across the horizon, rifles slung over their shoulders, with guns tucked neatly in their holsters as they moved across the sparsely forested terrain.

"Jesus." Buck found himself whispering as he saw them fast approaching the town limits.

Chris was watching them just as closely for altogether different reasons. "Get ready to set off the dynamite." He said coolly, wanting to give Buck something to do before his old friends started letting those numbers get to him.

"Yeah." Buck nodded and immediately went to the device that would detonate all the explosives that were laying in wait for this moment. Placing his hands on the handle, ready to depress it as soon as Chris gave the word, he hoped his expertise as a powder man was not as amateurish as he prayed it was not. While he had been extremely careful in setting the charges, not that the time had come, he felt some doubt creep into his mind.

Chris paid little note to Buck's concerns because at the present time, what was approaching Four Corners like a desert storm held most of his attention. His eyes skimmed over the roof tops at the men who were stationed as snipers with him and he could see their fear in their faces. Chris could hardly blame them, a small army of mercenaries and bandits was nothing to take lightly. Most of the men fighting with the seven today were simple townspeople who were accustomed to letting the law handle most of their problems.

"Steady." Chris replied when he saw Buck putting his hands on the handle of the device that would set off the explosions. Returning his gaze to the horizon, he saw them inching towards the defense perimeter with each second that passed. He could not see Selena Quint in their number but assumed she was mostly likely coming up the rear. "Steady." He repeated once more, waiting for the riders to move into position. They were still a good distance from town so the explosions when finally set off would do little damage to Four Corners itself.

"Now!" He shouted.

The explosion was loud and was heard throughout the length and breath of town. Chris saw the advancing line of riders scatter following the detonation. The initial blast had been big enough to kill at least a dozen men, horses collapsing in the face of the blast, throwing their masters off their backs violently. The explosives had been set in such a way that an entire length of desert land had gone up in a fiery blast that had sent dirt and heat in all directions. The bandits neat line of advance immediately dispersed in disorganization following the blast.

"Hot damn it worked!" Buck shouted with euphoria. "How much damage did we do?" He asked, moving to set out off the other charges.

"Enough to break their lines." Chris smiled faintly but knew this was far from over. Even now, more were pouring over the same ground filtering into town. Chris had know that it was impossible to stop these but those who were fanning out and avoiding the previous blast area were ripe targets. "Next wave is coming Buck." Chris warned and Buck stood poised over the handle once again, waiting for Chris to give the word.

"Again!" Chris ordered.

No sooner than he had said the word, he heard the sliding of metal against metal and a second explosion followed, a few yards closer towards town. Like before, the blast claimed more bodies and the area was starting to taken on the appearance of a battlefield. For a moment, Chris felt like he was back in the army fighting Johnny Reb, not Mexican bandits and mercenaries. The explosions had not deterred the attackers but it cut their numbers somewhat. Chris could count at least ten bodies on the ground, not to mention the dead horses strewn about the place.

"Alright, Buck. Let them all go!" He declared.

Buck did not need to be told twice as he moved quickly to carry out Chris' orders. The gunslinger turned his attention back to drama unfolding just beyond Four Corners town limits. The mercenaries were struggling to find a way in, aware now of the danger in treading less than lightly. Another series of eruptions followed, one after another. Chris heard screams through the roar of dynamite being detonated, watching the rain of earth and sand that was forced through the air coming down on the riders like dry precipitation.

For a brief time all they could hear was the thunder of explosions rocking the air and shattering some windows in town from the shock wave, followed by frantic cries of surprise and pain that soon evolved into anger by those who had not died. Judging by the riders making their way past the perimeter now that the explosive part of their defense was exhausted, Chris knew they had done considerable damage to the enemy ranks. Now as they charged towards town, fired up with revenge for their fallen comrades, Chris counted somewhere in the vicinity of twenty five bandits riding towards Four Corners.

"Chris," Buck said quickly. "I'm not gonna do much good here now that we've blown all the charges. I'm going to join the others."

"You do that." Chris agreed, wishing he could do more than direct traffic from this point but as the others had repeatedly told him when they had worked out the specifics of this plan, he was more useful commanding things up here instead of shooting it out with the rest of them. Besides, in the condition he was in, Chris would be more of a liability on the ground than he would be an asset. Only he knew how much pain he was in and Chris was looking forward to taking a few days to recover when this was all over, assuming it ended up in their favour.

"You take care." Buck replied as he started to withdraw toward the roof entrance.

"You too," Chris tipped his hat at Buck and let the unspoken thoughts pass between them before the big man disappeared down the ladder that led off the roof.

"Snipers!" The gunslinger shouted on top of his lungs once Buck had gone, to those waiting on the roof tops waiting for his orders. "Fire when I give the signal." He raised one hand and saw all their eyes from a dozen locations across town focused on him. The bandits were almost in town by this point, their arrival preceded by a cloud of dust as they galloped towards Four Corners, prepared to do the worst. Chris waited until they were in range of the their guns before he would give the signal for the snipers to launch their defense.

Once that was done, it would be every man for himself.

He wished Vin was here because the tracker was the best damn sharpshooter he knew. Chris had seen him nail a target from as far away as 500 yards in the dark and his skills would have been a boost in this firefight. Wherever he was, Chris hoped he was safe.

The bandits had just passed the livery and were definitely inside the town limits. Chris knew they would split up the moment they came to the first intersection or a turn in the main street. After being ambushed during the raids, Chris had to assume the Quint woman would not be foolish enough to make a second mistake by keeping her forces all together. He searched for her through the sea of horses and men invading and spotted her in the thickest part of the group.

If time permitted it, he would have taken her out there and then because he sensed that she was the driving force behind this assault on Four Corners. Unfortunately, it did not and it was time to act. Chris dropped the arm that he had been holding up, in essence giving the snipers the signal they had been waiting for.

"Fire!" He shouted before the world became deaf with the sound of exploding gunfire.

Josiah saw at least four men falling off their horses when the snipers began their attack. Immediately, the bandits looked up to the ceilings as some of them were driven against the sides of buildings by the murderous hail of bullets coming down around their ears. Horses reared up and dismounted its riders while others jumped off their horses and ran cover under the shade of awnings and shop fronts. Frantically, he heard someone shouting orders to find cover while others were could do nothing but continue riding up the street, in an effort to escape the killing zone.

Josiah watched them ride by from inside Gloria Potter's near gutted shop and started firing at the ones who had climbed off their horses and were taking up position to return fire. As they began to regroup, Josiah saw a body falling to the ground for somewhere and winced when he recognized it to be one of the townsfolk. The man who shot him was smashing open the window of the hardware store, attempting to gain entrance to the roof where he might be on equal footing with the rest of the Four Corners' snipers. Josiah was not about to let him get the chance and immediately concentrated his fire on that particular bandit.

Josiah watched his bullets bringing an end to the man's life, feeling that same pang of remorse that came whenever he was forced to use violence to solve a problem. The mercenary slumped against the broken glass window, feeling none of the cuts the broken shards were inflicting upon his body in death. However, Josiah had given his position and three mercenaries on foot immediately converged on him. Checking his gun as they started firing, the preacher ducked for cover behind the charred counter of the store as the bullet started tearing through the place.

Although the structure itself was sound, the fire had more or less destroyed anything it could find inside the confines of the shop itself. Now with the onslaughts of bullets, tearing through the burnt wood, driving deep holes in the walls and shattering any window that was not already damaged. Josiah kept his head down as he reloaded his gun. When he was done, he crawled along the floor as bullets slammed into the wall above him, raining debris of plaster and shrapnel before he emerged at bottom corner of the counter and started returning fire.

He saw one of them attempting to enter the store, taking advantage of his lack of response when he had been reloading his gun. Josiah aimed gun on the man, killing him with two shots before being driven back behind the counter temporarily by the other two men present. Suddenly, the sound of a Winchester shotgun roared through the air with two easy shots and the gunfire inside the room paused momentarily. Josiah peered over the edge of the counter and saw a familiar face.

"Well look what the cat dragged in." Josiah grinned with genuine smile of pleasure as he saw Vin Tanner standing over two bodies, reloading his gun while wearing that unflappable expression of nonchalance that was unmistakably his alone.

"You looked like you needed the help." Vin replied gesturing at the dead men at his feet.

"It was getting kind of interesting." Josiah had to admit as both men took cover behind the wall because things were still rather lively outside. "Did you managed to get to Sweet Water?"

"I wouldn't be back unless I did." Vin responded immediately. "I got into town yesterday and found out that people were being turned back because someone had told them that Four Corners had the fever. That's why, no one came looking for us when the telegraph went down. I told them what was happening and how we were being blockaded. Sheriff Borland wouldn't let me leave until my arm was looked at but as soon as their saw bones did, I took off to get back here."

"So help is coming." Josiah sighed in relief, glad that at least one thing was going their way.

"As soon as he could round it up," Vin said with a faint smile. "They should be here soon."

"Thank the Lord," the preacher laughed and ducked for cover when three bandits started firing in their direction. The two lawmen felt the bullets tearing through the walls, one or two creating beams of light as the wood split away from the force of the ammunition. Both Vin and Josiah ran back to the safety of the counter top, barely clearing the top as another hail of bullets came tearing through the air, seconds behind them.

The wall above them became riddled with bullet holes and pieces of debris rained on top of their heads. Josiah looked at Vin as they prepared to retaliate with a wide grin on his face. "Ain't you glad to be back brother?"

As more wood and plaster crumbled onto the brim of Vin's hat, the tracker remarked with a frown. "Oh yeah, wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Amen to that." Josiah laughed and started shooting.

Ezra saw at least four of them coming in his direction and knew that it was time for Inez to vacate. She had not had the chance to help him with the defense of the saloon because it was not safe and for her to emerge from behind the counter. As it was the shotgun was hardly and effective weapon from her present position and as Ezra checked the shells remaining in his gun, he knew that by the time it took for him to reload, they might be upon him. Nevertheless, he had little effort but to try.

Four of the mercenaries had converged on the saloon once they realized that there was a formidable shot picking off their companions from inside the establishment. All of them carried guns on either side and at the moment, were sending the entire complement of ammunition through the windows and open door. There was no longer an unbroken windows as bullets slammed past the glass and destroying the bottles sitting on the shelves behind the counter. As Ezra had struggled to reload his guns, he was glad Inez had the sense to take refuge under the counter until this was all over. If the worst came to worst and he was unable to stop these men from invading the building, he hoped to provide her some measure of concealment until help came.

Retreating from the door as he saw them advance, Ezra flipped a table over and sought refuge behind it as they started riddling the felt covered surface with bullets. It went through the table easily and Ezra groaned in pain when one of them cut through his thigh. Bitting down hard and ignoring the pain, Ezra snapped the chamber into place one his gun was reloaded and started returning fire. Peeking over the edge of the table long enough to see where the prey was, he started firing. The noise of bullets sent one of the bandits out into the open and Ezra put him down promptly, collapsing his body half way through a broken window in death.

He heard the glass of another window breaking but this time sound did not come from the front but the back. Looking over his shoulder, he continued to lay suppressing fire while coming to the conclusion that someone was attempting to penetrate the building by way of the kitchen. At this time, the intruder could easily shoot him in the back while Ezra was still busy with his companions at the front of the saloon. Someone he had to get there without being cut to ribbons. It was bad enough the injury to his leg hampered his movements but each shot fired, he was inching closer and closer towards needing to reload once again.

Hearing the sounds emanating from the kitchen behind him, Ezra knew he had run out of time. He shoved the table forward, hoping it would afford enough of a distraction before emerging with both guns blazing. He managed to hit one of the men taking refuge behind the doorway and did not wait to see if he had shot the seconds. Retreating into the kitchen, he passed through the doorway as another bandit started to sneak out of the room. Ezra, who possessed faster reflexes than his opponent, reacted swiftly, knocking the gun from the man's hands. The bandit however was not about to give up and struck a foot on Ezra's wounded leg.

The gambler let out a cry of pain as the Mexican lunged at him.

Both men went down although nothing on this earth was getting Ezra's gun away from him, even though the enemy had both hands on the wrist holding it, trying to force him into relinquishing his grips. With his free hands, Ezra struck him across the jaw and sent the man tumbling off him. Ezra rolled onto his knees and winced in pain at the movements his injured thigh was forced to perform. The man crashed into Inez's kitchen table and toppled all its contents on himself when he brought it down. Absurdly, Ezra found himself thinking that lunch was not going to be served today.

Unfortunately, the contents that had fallen around his ears included a rather nasty looking kitchen knife with a lengthy blade and an equally thick handle. The bandit wrapped his hand around the hilt and started swishing at Ezra who felt back to avoid being slashed across the chest with the formidable weapon. The wound was making his movements slow and as he struggled to gain his balance, the mercenary hissing in satisfaction as he advanced, brandished the knife with every intention of embedding it deep inside Ezra's body. The gambler did not give him the chance and though awkwardly placed on the floor, Ezra aimed fast and pulled the trigger.

The bullet caught him in the centre of his forehead, knocking the man's hat off his as his head lolled back once his brain was sliced in half. The knife was still in his grip as he fell backwards and Ezra watched in morbid fascination as blood began to ooze from the fatal pulp of flesh where his bullet had ended everything that the man was. Ezra grimaced as he forced himself onto his feet, dusting himself off at the same time and regarded the corpse.

"You Sir," Ezra muttered holding his bleeding thigh. "Must be the only individual stupid enough to brandish a knife at a gunfight."

No sooner than those words had passed his lips, he became aware of a more pressing sound that eclipsed the noise being made by the gunfight beyond the walls of the saloon. He heard the audible click of a trigger being pulled and looked over his shoulder to find himself staring at the gunmen he thought he had dispatched outside. Unlike his companions, the mercenary was not Mexican but that did not change the fact that he was had the advantage.

"And you should know better than to assume that you've killed two men when you only shot one." The stranger grinned, spitting a mouthful of tobacco on the floor as he met Ezra's gaze, triumphant in the knowledge that one of them was about to die and it was not going to be him.

Ezra straightened his coat and remarked with total calm. "Under the circumstances, it does appear that you may be correct on that pearl of wisdom."

He saw the man's finger tighten around the trigger and braced himself for the pain when suddenly the loud boom of a double barrel shotgun was heard. Its noise was so loud that Ezra jumped startled and then dropped his gaze to his chest to confirm that it had not been him that was shot. There was no sign or feeling of injury.

Looking up, he saw the mercenary who minutes ago had been so confident that he would take Ezra's life, stagger forward with pain etched in his contorted features. He dropped his guns to the floor and the metal against wood clattered noisily. A large crimson stain had seeped through the man's clothes and was expanding across his chest. He man took another step or two forward before the life drained out of his face and he fell forward, landing flat on his face at Ezra's feet. The gambler saw the ruined flesh of his back and raised his eyes to see Inez standing at the doorway, with the double barrel shotgun in her hand, still shaking.

"Inez." He limped over to her.

"I never killed anyone before." She whispered, trying to hide how much pulling the trigger on the man had effected.

"You saved my life," Ezra reminded and took the gun away from her. She was more than happy to give it up. "He would have killed me otherwise."

"I know." She swallowed, trying to maintain that brassy manner of confidence that endeared her to so many, himself included. "I've held a gun before and I wanted to kill Don Paulo and those men who hurt me month ago but those were just thoughts."

"Dear lady," Ezra tried to be gentle and he did not want to sound insensitive but this was not the time for such debates. Outside still sounded as if all hell was breaking loose and she needed to be whisked away to safety, the last few minutes confirmed that for him like nothing else. "You did what was necessary to save my life and yours as well. Now, you need to get upstairs, for your own sake and that of your child. Would you do that for me, please?" He met her gaze with a silent plea.

"Yes." Inez nodded, deciding she wanted nothing more to do with shooting anyone.

"Good," Ezra said leading her out of the kitchen and ushering her towards the stairs of the saloon. As of yet, no other mercenaries had turned their attention to the establishment once more but Ezra did not hold out hopes that it was a situation that would last indefinitely.

"You're hurt." She noted his limping now that she was more recovered from what she had just done.

"I am," he brushed aside the injury. "But it's merely a scratch. I have endured worse."

The bat wing doors suddenly swung open and Ezra automatically turned towards it, aiming his gun and the double barrel in his hand. Buck Wilmington froze in place for a moment and declared tautly. "Hell Ezra, ain't there enough people out there trying shoot me without you helping them?"

"Buck!" Inez said happily, ignoring the sarcastic rebuttal that Ezra was no doubt about to deliver and quickly hurried to the lawman and embraced him hard in a full body hug. "You're okay!" She gushed happily.

"Sure I am Darlin'," Buck smiled at the reception before pulling her away from the open doors to a more safe location. "What are you doing down here?" He asked concerned, expecting her to be in the rooms above the saloon, not down here where there was so much danger.

"Saving my life." Ezra retorted. "I was about to escort her upstairs but since you are here, I think I might just take a moment to tend to myself."

"You're hit?" Buck asked with concern, catching the slight wince of pain and made a quick scan of Ezra's person to see the blood stains on his trouser leg. Ezra's answer was cut shot by the sound of fresh gunfire slamming into the wall next to the staircase. The gambler jumped for cover, barely missing the hail of bullets that would have killed him otherwise.

"Come on!" Buck shouted and grabbed Inez by the hand as they both jumped over the counter of the bar. They leapt over the counter top covered in broken glass, debris and spilled liquor barely noticing any of it as they ducked for cover.

Ezra in the meantime, found himself behind the felt covered gambling table he did most of his best work during less stressful occasions than this one. As he reloaded his gun, the gambler kept thinking that it would be most ironic if he died behind one too.

Nathan Jackson was probably going to get himself killed but he could not help himself.

Every time he saw the bandits shoot someone he knew, the healers instinct took over completely and the would be physician was hurrying to their aide even though his capacity in this campaign was not as field surgeon. He was out in the street, dragging bodies into places of safety, taking a moment to examine the ones who were not beyond help and rendering medical assistance in the confines of buildings that were being riddled by bullets even as he worked.

The battle had been raging for sometime now and while it was difficult to gauge a winner in all this, he could tell that there were more mercenaries being killed then there were townsfolk. Although Nathan did not like to count statistics in that way since all life was precious to him, he had to force himself to remember that Four Corners was fighting for its life here. One of the snipers, Will Jefferson had not been hit badly but the fall from the top of the roof where he had been position to the ground had done severe damage. As Nathan dragged the town's blacksmith through the front door of the hotel saloon, he made a quick examination and knew that Jefferson needed help soon.

"You got leave me Nathan." He groaned in pain. "You can't be looking after me."

"Now you let me worry about that Will." Nathan said pulling open his shirt so that he could examine the man more closely. Nathan was completely aware of the mayhem taking place outside the deserted confines of the saloon. "Now tell me where it hurts." He asked.

"In my ribs," the man replied and upon examination by Nathan's skilled fingers, Will let out a groan of pain when Nathan touched the tender spot. "I landed on my side." He grunted as Nathan continued working.

"I think you've broken a few." Nathan guessed and flinched at the sound of another bullet shattering a window somewhere. "I hate to do this but I'm going to have to move you, Will. We can't stay here with all the fighting."

"Whatever you say Nathan." The man looked at Nathan with complete trust. "I know you'll do what's best."

Nathan flashed the man a warm smile when he heard the crack of gunfire that shattered the main window of the saloon. He saw a number of mercenaries coming right at him and knew that he had to get Will to safety now. Hastily pulling the man to his feet, Will let out a groan of pain as Nathan dragged him to the far end of the room where the door to the rest of the hotel was. As he approached it, glancing over his shoulder at regular intervals to see how close the mercenaries were from storming this place and having his head, the door opened.

"I'll take him." Jules Lawson, the owner of the hotel emerged. The man had been ordered like the rest of his guests, to stay in their rooms until this was all over. However, Nathan could not deny that it was good to see Lawson at this moment.

"Thanks," Nathan said gratefully as the thin, reedy looking man took Will Jefferson from his grip and started dragging the injured blacksmith into the safety of the hotel's inner rooms.

"You coming?" Lawson asked concerned as it appeared Nathan was about to do nothing of the sort.

"Sorry," the healer turned away and hurried to the doorway, preparing to take up position to put down the men converging upon the establishment. "I got to stay and fight but you get going now. You don't want be here when the shooting starts."

Lawson nodded wildly and disappeared through the door with Will Jefferson, allowing Nathan to let out a sigh of relief at that particular problem being taken care of. There were still so many others lying in the dirt on the street, requiring his aide. The healer felt doubly helpless that he would not be able to do anything to assist them until the trio of mercenaries coming at him was dealt with. Seeing one man sneaking along the outside wall, attempting to sneak in through the broken window, immediately forced Nathan into moving. The healer immediately took aim and fired. He did not know where his bullet had caught the man but it was enough that his advance was halted and the others had stopped their attempts to enter the premises.

He heard excited voices calling others to join them. While his understanding of Spanish was rudimentary, Nathan heard enough to know that he was soon going to be swamped. Checking both his guns to ensure that they were filled, he prepared for the onslaught that came with the roar of gunfire tearing through the air.

Nothing mounted on the walls facing windows or the main doors was spared as the lethal spread of fire shattered pictures, ornaments, windows, light fixtures and anything that was in its path. The polished wood of the floor was becoming littered with debris and fragments of broken objects.

Nathan peered over the edge of his refuge and saw the remaining two had called for reinforcements and would be upon him soon enough. Refusing to let them cover any more ground, Nathan started firing into the thickest part of the group and watched them scatter as he let loose a surge of gunfire in their direction. It was not to say that they did not give as good as they got because no sooner than he had paused to reload, another barrage of fire followed, weakening the wall behind which he was taking cover. He could feel the constant impact starting to resonate through the wood and knew it would not take much more before the bullets started penetrating all the way through.

Realizing he could not stay where he was any longer, Nathan dashed out and was immediately running hard to dodge bullets that were whizzing past his ears. His advance was halted abruptly when he felt one dig deep into his knee. Nathan cried out as he felt the hot piece of lead striking bone before ricocheting out of his body. The healer collapsed where he was hit, falling down hard as he struggled to crawl to safety. Unfortunately, the injury to his knee was as severe as the pain he felt. Grunting in agony as he struggled across the floor, the best he could do to protect himself, was to up end a table and use it as a shield, although under constant fire, it would eventually come across the same problem as the wall he tried to hide behind.

Lying close to the floor because he was harder to hit that way, Nathan started shooting at anything that moved, knowing that once the mercenaries penetrated the perimeter of the saloon, he would be vulnerable, as if he was not already. He killed three men in their tracks, dropping them at various stages of progress into the building. However, the pain was starting to get the better of him, no matter how hard he was fighting it. He could feel hot tendrils of agony snaking up his leg, paralyzing him with its intensity, no matter how hard he tried to endure it. At this stage, he could not even stand up and Nathan never felt so damn helpless in his life.

If things had not already reached their worst, Nathan soon discovered he was almost out of ammunition and there were still two of them closing in on him. By now, they had become smarter, opting to find another way in and Nathan knew that he was in no position to stop them if they threw any surprises in his direction. Taking a deep breath, he forced away the pain even though he could feel his trousers became wet with blood as he continued to bleed. The shooting had stopped for the moment and Nathan started becoming apprehensive at not being able to see them.

Outside the gunfire had not ceased although he noticed it was lessening considerably. As his eyes scanned the length and breath of the saloon and as far outside he could see, Nathan saw no sign of the duo who had tried to overrun him earlier. While it might simply be that they had given up trying to take him, Nathan was not that optimistic. He listened for every sound beyond the shooting outside and heard nothing, which only disconcerted him more. Taking advantage of the pause, even though he knew something unpleasant was coming at him, Nathan rolled onto his back and attempted to sit up as he examined his damaged knee.

The injury was as bad as it felt, he noted with unhappiness. Not only was it possible that his kneecap might have been shattered and he prayed it was not, convalescence was going to require absolutely no use of his leg for the duration. He hated being off his feet for any reason although if he died today, then it was probably going to be academic. As of yet, there was no sign of the trouble he was expecting but he could feel its presence lurking in the shadows, like a pregnant drop of water waiting to drop.

He need not have waited too long.

The door through which he had relinquished care of Will Jefferson to Jules Lawson swung open and locked in the grip of a bandit who was holding a gun to his head. Nathan saw Lawson's eyes wide with terror as his assailant kept a firm arm locked across his throat, keeping the man in place as he was nudged onto the floor of the saloon. The bandit was sneering at Nathan, daring him to shoot even though he knew the healer would do no such thing to protect Lawson.

"Drop your gun." He ordered with a smile that only served to reveal several rotted teeth.

Nathan hesitated, knowing what it would mean to do so.

"Now." The main reiterated by jamming the gun barrel harder against the side of Lawson's head. "Or I kill him in front of you."

"Only if you let him go." Nathan declared.

"After you drop your gun." The man repeated, with every intention of not keeping that promise Nathan was certain. Still, the healer had no other choice but to comply.

Taking a deep breath and swearing when he exhaled, Nathan reluctantly relaxed his grip of his gun and let the weapon dropped to the floor. "Now let him go." He reminded the bandit of his earlier condition.

"Sorry." The man threw Nathan a cruel grin and shoved Lawson aside before aiming his gun to shoot. However, Nathan had one trick up his sleeve that he had banked on using to save Lawson. The moment the man had started to push Lawson aside, Nathan reached behind his back and pulled out the blade he had secreted in its sheath. With lightning fast reflexes he had honed over the years, Nathan threw the knife.

It twirled through the air with even more speed than the bandit was capable of pulling the trigger and it landed with almost as much accuracy. The bandit staggered backwards as the length of the blade buried itself in his throat almost to the hilt. Gurgling sounds followed the gush of blood as he dropped his guns on the floor and reached for his neck. Lawson scrambled behind the bar as Nathan watched dispassionately his attempts to dislodge the weapon.

Behind him, he heard a fresh series of gunfire and groaned at what could possibly come at him now. However, instead of seeing more bandits or mercenaries, whatever they were, he saw the partner of the man he had just killed, falling dead through the doors of the saloon. Following him was Vin Tanner and Josiah Sanchez who hurried into the room and surveyed the situation.

"Vin!" Nathan exclaimed. "Man, are you sight for sore eyes!" The healer smiled.

"So everyone keeps telling me." Vin replied, crossing the floor in two strides to reach Nathan while Josiah took the point to ensure they would not be having any more unexpected guests for the time being. "You don't look too good Doc." The tracker noted the blood on his leg and the pain that he was trying so hard.

"Just a scratch." Nathan replied even though they both knew it was a little more than that.

"I'm sure it is." Vin said leaning over to help him up because Nathan was out of the game as far as he was concerned. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Lawson chose to emerge from his hiding place at that point, now that he was certain that the coast was clear of any further danger. "Is he all right?" The hotel owner asked as he looked at Nathan, unmindful of how Nathan had been willing to risk his life to save Lawson's own.

"He's been better." Vin answered as Nathan let out a cry of pain when the tracker lifted him off the ground. Instinctively, Josiah turned to them both."

"You need a hand Vin?" Josiah asked immediately.

"I'll help you," Lawson spoke up, wading through the debris on the floor to reach them both. "It's the least I can do." The man replied and slid Nathan's other arm over his shoulder, taking the weight of the healer's injured foot.

"Is it true what they say Nathan?" Vin asked as they started moving him out of the saloon.

"What?" The healer looked at him in confusion.

"That doctors make the worst patients." The tracker grinned mischievously at him.

"Aw shut up." Nathan grumbled. "Ain't I in enough pain already. ."

It was him!

It was Diaz! J.D. recognized the Mexican commander as he and his men were attempting to shoot down Eric Dunlevy and Mr. Rosken from the hardware store. Both men were at the moment stationed on the top of the O'Leary roof and had been doing considerable damage to the numbers of attacking mercenaries if the bodies littering the ground were any indication. J.D. had been assisting himself, providing ground cover like so many others around the area, whenever the mercenaries had tried to reach the duo by storming the building. Diaz was not one of those who chose to hide behind his men and fought alongside of them. J.D. found himself admiring the man a little and wondered what he must have been like in the days when he did command an army.

However, his fascination with that question soon passed as he saw Mr. Rosken stagger backwards as one of the bandit's bullets reached him. Although J.D. could not tell whether or not Nathan's landlord was badly injured, it did prompt the young man to concentrate his fire in the direction of Diaz and his men. As he squeezed off a few rounds from the safety of one of the stores in the main street, J.D. suddenly realized that he had brought Diaz's attention to himself and the commander of the mercenaries was now directing some of his man towards him.

"Damn!" J.D. hissed as he saw at least five of them converging on himself and quickly checked his guns to ensure that he would not come up shot when the firing started. In accordance with Chris' instructions, they had all loaded themselves with as much ammunition as they could carry, aware that when the shooting began they would not have time, to run around scavenging for bullets. J.D.'s fumbled with the bullets as he tried to reload as quickly as possible, aware mindful of how fast they were closing in on him.

"J.D.!" He saw Casey emerging from the back door of the place. She was carrying a rifle and looked prepared to use it as she hurried toward him.

"Casey!" J.D. almost shouted with horror. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to help you!" She said proudly.

"Help me?" He flared up, unable to believe that she had done this stupid, stupid, stupid thing. "Are you out of your mind? Those are mercenaries out there! You should be with the other women!" He glanced out the window and saw Diaz and his men taking up position to bombard this building with everything they had in their arsenal. Suddenly, J.D. had some idea of what Buck must have felt after he had announced where he had been the night he had sneaked into the camp of the mercenary bandits.

"J.D." Casey stared at him with her jaw set. "I can shoot as well as you can so stop treating me like a girl!"

"Have you ever killed a man!" He returned sharply.

Casey glared at him with narrowed eyes. "No, but I'm willing to start with you!"

Her exclamation followed a burst of gunfire and she immediately dropped to her knees and scrambled next to J.D. who was taking up refuge near a window. The barrage was as heavy as he had anticipated and very soon, the wall and almost every inch of space in front of the shop front was riddled with bullet holes.

"Stay down." He hissed as he started shooting at the enemy he could see. Diaz had surrounded the front half of the building while the rest of his men was concentrating on dislodging Dunlevy from the roof.

"I can help!" She returned and crawled to the other side of the shop front window, keeping her head low as she made the journey.

"Casey!" J.D. barked furiously as he paused what he was doing. "Stay where you are!"

However, she was not listening to him and was soon on the other end of the room, sliding her rifle through the open space and preparing to add his fire to her own. J.D. knew she could shoot well enough because he had seen her do it before and knew that if she had to, she would shoot a man down. During the last attack by Royal and James on this town, she had defended the town just as valiantly as anyone else who had picked up a gun to fight. However, this was different! These weren't just regular kinds of outlaws they were facing, these were mercenaries who would not stop until they were dead or the persons they intended on killing were. Not to mention, that Casey had narrowly missed being violated by them earlier.

A bullet surged past him and J.D. fell back to avoid it. Casey turned to him and said sharply. "J.D., watch what you're doing! You're liable to get your head blown off!"

J.D. cursed under his breath and returned his attention to the bandits, begrudgingly forced to admit that she was right. He had better concentrate on what he was doing or else he would be dead long before she ever was, not unless he shot her first. J.D. sought Diaz in the group and saw that he was giving all the orders on this brutal assault upon himself and Casey. Beams of light were starting to pour through the building from all the bullets tearing the place apart and while Casey was holding her own, firing at the enemy while keeping clear of return, fire, he could see her apprehension showing in her face.

J.D. took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly as he forced away all other sound and thoughts form his mind. Expunging himself of distractions like the possibility of eminent death or what would happen to Casey should she fall into the hands of the bandits, J.D. let these worries drain from him. When he opened his eyes once again, he was focused and calm as he had intended to be. Aiming carefully because he knew he was capable of making the shot despite the chaos around him, J.D. set his sights of the man whose demise could bring an end to this fighting much more swiftly than a thousand bullets could achieve.

He waited for a few seconds as he took careful aim, remembering what Vin had told him about making such shots. True, he was not using a rifle but that hardly mattered. In the background, he could hear Casey demanding why he was not shooting even though her voice barely registered in his head. Nothing mattered except the final moment when he was ready to pull the trigger. Opportunities came and went, windows of possibility that surfaced briefly and were rejected flew by him in those seconds until finally he saw the ideal moment arrive and J.D. Dunne pulled the trigger, with no hesitation or doubt.

Diaz had been in the process of making a shot, exposing his body long enough to pull the trigger on their enemy inside the building when the bullet that had been delivered with such deliberation, tore through his chest, cutting through skin and bone and cleaving his heart in two. J.D.'s eyes widened as he saw the mercenary leader utter a growl of pain as the shot knocked him off his feet. He saw the man go down and waited for the lengthy few minutes it took to discover whether or not he had actually killed the man or merely wounded him.

The firing stopped abruptly as Diaz's men hurried to their fallen leader. Among them, J.D. recognized the man they had sent back to deliver Chris' message to Selena.

"J.D.," Casey saw what had happened and asked him quietly, her face full of confusion but also fear. "What did you do?"

J.D. did not answer because at this point, he was not sure himself. However, when he saw that Diaz was not getting up from where he had fallen and the other mercenaries turning slowly in the direction of the shop, with nothing less than murder in their eyes, he had a fair idea that he might have just made things worse.

The gunfire began again, only this time it was more ferocious, more fevered if such a thing could be measured. The barrage was so heavy that it kept J.D. and Casey pinned to the ground, unable to return fire because the moment they lifted their heads to do so, someone was going to shoot it off. Casey crawled back to J.D., uttering a small squeal of fright each time a bullet came to close despite J.D.'s angry demands that she keep still.

"J.D., I'm scared!" She cried out as more and more light beams appeared through the shop and it was becoming obvious that they were outgunned and trapped in this tiny corner.

"It's going to be okay, Casey." J.D. replied as he took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly. J.D. tried firing back but he could manage no more than a few rounds before he was forced back into his tight little corner. He knew that eventually, they were going to storm the place.

All of a sudden the gunfire aimed at the shop ceased even though they could hear the shots still being fired. For a moment, J.D. and Casey merely looked at each other, trying to decide whether or not this was some kind of trick and coming the realization a short time later that it was not. Peering out of the window, they saw Buck, Vin, Ezra and Josiah exchanging gunfire with the mercenaries who had kept them pinned inside this building.

"All right!" J.D. exclaimed loudly, hugging Casey in joy as he saw his friends coming to the rescue. "Didn't I tell ya!" He looked at her and grinned as he pulled her to him and J.D. pressed his lips against hers in a kiss of pure joy.

"J.D.!" She shoved him aside and slapped him. J.D. stared at her in disappointment when suddenly, Casey grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him towards her. Her mouth met his in a softer more lingering kiss and J.D. decided that she definitely knew how to do this a lot better than he did before they both become lost in time and sensation.

"Well hello there J.D.," they were finally pulled apart when Buck Wilmington stepped through the front door and stared at them, with a smirk on his face that spoke volumes. "Are we interrupting something?"

Chris Larabee surveyed the scene before him and although there were far too many bodies in the street for his liking, the gunslinger knew they were holding their own quite well against the forces that were attempting to destroy the town. He knew that when the final tally was made even the loss of one life would be too many but for the moment, Four Corners was fighting for its life and doing quite well. The ground beneath the Pemberton Emporium was surrounded by bodies of would be invaders to the establishment. Chris has spent most of the battle playing sniper on top of the roof top because he knew that in his present state of health, that was all that he was capable of managing. He felt badly that he could not join his friends and hoped that the rest of the seven, including Vin, wherever he was, had fared as well as he.

While the battle was far from being won, since he could still hear gunfire emanating throughout town along with other sounds that signaled violence, Chris knew they were holding the line drawn. Chris could not be certain but he was sure that the mercenaries had taken severe losses, if the corpses littering the street were anything to base a final judgement upon. Unfortunately, it was unrealistic to assume that all of the bodies belonged to the enemy and assumed when this was all over, there was going to be a great deal of burying and mourning to be done. The town itself would survive but it had suffered substantially as evidenced by the burnt out buildings, the damage done to almost all structures in the main street and of course by the dead.

He reloaded his rifle as he saw two more bandits attempting to enter the building, preparing to fire at him in order to gain access unhampered.

Considering how many women, children and wounded were hiding in the basement of the building, Chris was not about to let that happen in any shape or form. Reloading his gun, the gunslinger readied himself to despatch them as easily as he had done do to others who had made previous attempt of the kind, when suddenly, he caught sight of something moving at the corner of his eyes. Chris whirled around quickly and followed that errant vision and saw Selena Quint attempting to enter the building through the back entrance.

He had no sooner made that discovery when the mercenaries below began shooting at him. Chris barely missed being shot as the bullets flew past him and he quickly took cover against the roof's edging. Chris swore loudly, knowing that this exercise was merely a distraction while Selena infiltrated the building. He had to get down into Emporium before Selena was allowed to wreak whatever dark purpose had led her here in the first place. Unfortunately, the two mercenaries assigned to delay him were doing their jobs well and while Chris prevented them from advancing into the Emporium, they had sought places for cover that made it difficult for him to get a clear shot.

In the nearby distance, he saw three people approaching and was hardly surprised when he saw who it was that was leading them. Vin Tanner was closing in on the duo set to occupy his time, with Buck and Josiah completing the net to which they were completely unaware. Chris found himself grinning at their timing and decided that was usually the way with Vin. Pleased to know that his friend was alive and well, Chris further acknowledged that he could leave things in their worthwhile hands as he went to deal with Quint. He wondered if she had risked herself just to get a shot at him when Chris discarded his rifle and proceeded towards the open door of the roof, with only his peacemakers at his side.

It occurred to him just exactly what Selena Quint wanted when he started climbing down.

Julia.

"What do you think is happening out there?" Julia Pemberton asked Alexandra Styles in the dark confines of the basement in which they were hidden.

"I don't know." Alex shook her head unable to answer while she continued to keep a close eye on the patients around her. They had all been sitting in darkness for quite some time now, saying very little as they heard the noises of the violence ensuing outside. Everyone in this room, had loved ones, family or merely just friends, fighting for the survival of their town and their lives beyond this safe haven they had been secreted. Alex tried not to think of Vin or where he was as the gunfire continued and the screams of death fouled the air with its potent stench.

Julia was in a similar state of distress, thinking about Ezra and how he was doing out there. It felt maddening to just sit here and wait and yet there was very little she could do beyond just that. Sometimes, she just hated being considered one of the womenfolk, expected to wait around, twiddling their thumbs with no idea what was happening, shielded from everything, even grief at time. It was infuriating!

"I wish I knew what was happening." Julia said standing up to pace. There was little enough to do inside this dark prison and this was the only way she found she could expend her energies without going insane. "I hate having to wait here!"

"Calm down," Alex said trying to hide just how exhausted she was. She had spent most of the time in here, ensuring that her patients were comfortable even though she could appreciate Julia's feelings in this, she did not want the woman's panic to upset her charges. "You're spooking everyone else."

"Sorry," Julia apologized and saw the emotion in Alex's eyes that she was trying so hard to hide form everyone. "I'm sure Vin will turn up. He knows all that nature stuff, he's bound to have reached Sweet Water by now."

"Thanks," the doctor replied, grateful for the effort although its results were questionable.

Julia was about to respond when she heard movement on the floorboards above them. Her eyes immediately met Alex's and they both stared at each other for a moment, trying to decide who was up there. "Do you think its them?" She asked quietly and saw a similar ripple of concern travelling throughout the room.

"I don't know," Alex shook her head in answer. "Everyone, keep it down." She ordered and those in the room obliged, particularly when they had no idea with whom they were dealing. The footsteps moved across the floor above their heads, before taking a sharp turn towards the doorway.

Suddenly, the door to the basement opened abruptly and a decidedly feminine voice sang out as she made her descent into the dimly lit room. "My, my, my what a nice little hideaway, you have here."

Selena Quint let her eyes travel over the faces before her but there was only two that held any real interest. "Doctor Styles and Miss Pemberton." Selena glared at them. "It has been a long time."

"Not long enough." Alex quipped in typical fearlessness. "What do you want?"

"I want Julia." She said producing the guns Alex had no doubt she would not be afraid to use. "Or I kill everyone else, starting with you." She shifted the barrel just enough so that Alex would take a direct hit.

"You'll kill us anyway." Alex said calling her bluff.

"True," Selena agreed with a faint smile. "But I won't make it quick as I had intended."

"Enough!" Julia exclaimed. "I can handle the killing and the shooting buts it's the diatribe I can't stand. For goodness sake, you sound just like any other predictable villain in a book, I suppose next you'll be telling us what your grand plan for world domination is all about before you kill us?"

"Step outside," Selena ordered. "Step outside and I won't show you just how predictable I am." Her eyes flashed nothing but hatred at Julia. The Emporium owner put on a brave face, determined not to show just how frightened she was even though the possibility of this confrontation was one that she had been expecting.

"Julia, no!" Alex protested as Julia started to walk towards Selena. "She'll kill you."

"Shut up." Selena warned and gestured Julia to continue her departure from the basement. Alex watched helplessly as Julia walked calmly up the stairs, very much the lady she was felt completely useless that she could do nothing to stop Selena who was following her.

Julia felt her heart pounding, wondering what Selena had in mind and hoping that whatever her plan Julia would have the opportunity to defend herself when she finally put it into effect. She emerged first from the doorway leading to the basement, when she saw Chris Larabee waiting for Selena to appear. Chris motioned her to be silent and continue walking as if she was still under the mercenary's power. The gunslinger waited by the edge of the doorway, making certain that Julia was well clear when he heard Selena's footsteps behind her.

The barrel of her gun emerged first and Chris yanked the weapon out of her hand even before Selena was aware that he was there. She however, reacted far swifter than he gave her credit and immediately swung at him, intending to deliver a painful blow to his wounded chest. Chris managed to stop her fist with his own and twisted her arm so savagely that she almost spun in mid air before collapsing on the ground, hitting the floor hard on her side.

"Get out of here, Julia!" Chris ordered and saw the woman disappear behind some stacked boxes.

Selena looked up at her nemesis in this whole affair, preparing to draw on her and knew she was not about to let that happen. "Mr. Larabee, we meet at last." She retorted before kicking her foot out and connecting with the side of his knee.

Chris winced as he dropped to the floor, taking note of her scrambling to her feet. She intended to fight him as she came towards him and Chris knew just from her manner that in his present condition, she could be somewhat formidable. She was about to deliver him a high kick to the jaw when Chris grabbed her leg and shoved her backwards. Once again, she landed hard on the floor and recovered like a cat, rolling on to her knees and preparing to launch herself at him again.

"I was right," Chris remarked sarcastically as he sidestepped her attempt to swing at him. "You do fight like a girl."

"Why don't you show me?" She twisted her lips in a cruel sneer and threw a punch that he deflected easily when suddenly, her other hand slipped in between them and she struck him hard against the chest.

The pain was almost immediate and Chris felt his entire body scream in agony as she struck the one place that he was most vulnerable. He could feel warm blood exuding from burst stitches in the wake of her attack and knew that instinctively that he was bleeding again. He staggered back, trying to gain a handle on the pain, still aware through the red haze on intense sensation that she was still advancing towards him. Feeling a surge of anger, Chris lashed out with more speed than she was ever capable of producing and struck her with a backhanded blow that sent Selena sprawling. As he struggled to remain on his feet, he was conscious of her landing in a stack of cardboard boxes.

Selena could taste blood in her mouth as she struggled to get up when suddenly, she heard the sound of a trigger being pulled very close to her ear. Her head swung around sharply but it was not Chris Larabee she was staring at. The gunslinger was leaning against the wall, trying to recover from the blow she had delivered to him. Instead, Selena found herself facing a derringer being brandished with perfect calm by her intended victim, Julia Pemberton.

"If you're actually stupid enough to think that I would not have taken steps to protect myself after you made that melodramatic display in front of Ezra then you really deserve to have a bullet put through your head." Julia replied icily. "You give us girls a bad name."

Selena narrowed her eyes and stared at Julia with a faint smile. "You don't have it in you to pull that trigger." The mercenary's hand started moving down the length of her pants reaching for the blade that was tucked neatly in her boot. "You did it once only because I was about to kill the dear doctor, you don't have the guts to just shoot me dead in cold blood."

If Julia did not see the movement, Chris certainly did. "Julia, watch out!" He warned.

No sooner than the words had left his lips, Selena pulled out the weapon and Julia took one step back to escape it while pulling the trigger at the same time. The derringer's payload was small but very effective, almost as effective as the shot Julia made. Selena fell to the floor in a dead stop, the knife she would have used on Julia clattering uselessly into the darkness. Julia turned away from the body once she saw where the bullet had made its entry, unable to stomach the sight of the blood that was oozing out of Selena Quint's left eye.

"You okay?" Chris asked as Julia wiped her mouth, feeling slightly nauseous at what she had done as she came towards the gunslinger.

"I hate guns." Julia decided and handed the weapon to him as she approached. "What about you?" She inquired, seeing the pain in his face.

"I'll live." Chris remarked and then threw a glance at Selena's motionless body on the floor and had only one parting word that could serve as eulogy, should some decide she deserved one.

"What a bitch."

TO BE CONTINUED