Vin Tanner didn't take the road back to Four Corners. He decided he needed to see some new country. He and Buck Wilmington had delivered a prisoner over to the territorial line. Vin and Buck got the prisoner there and Buck met the US Marshal, and had Buck turned the prisoner over.. Buck decided to stay in the small town; there were several cantina girls he had not met the acquaintance of. Vin decided he wanted to leave, Buck said he'd see him in Four Corners in a few days.

Vin volunteered for the job because he'd been feeling a little restless and wanted to be gone from town, and this was his chance. He'd felt hemmed in, harnessed to the town, too much time in one place. He'd been feeling the call for quite awhile, but he stayed because of the friends and the job.

He cut off the road not too far out of the town and just rode as the crow would fly. His saddle bags were full of supplies and he knew Chris would not expect them back for at least four days. It had taken that long to get to the town, and Vin knew that Chris knew, Buck would not turn right back around.

He felt the black start to stretch his stride out. This horse loved new ground as much as he did. He'd had old Peso for several years, had traded a buffalo hide, and half a box of shells for him, a high price, but worth it.

The gelding had proved his worth several times over.

They threaded through the creosote brush, cactus and Palo Verde trees and headed for the foothills. If he had followed the road it would have gone around the mountain for two days and then through the foothills and across another range. He planned on riding the ridges and trails up high.

Dropping down into a steep ravine, he followed the rocky floor uphill for a little distance, looking for a way out. When he found a spot he and the black could get out of, he took it. It was cool down in the ravine and warm, going hot, as he came back out on top and back into the sun.

He rode parallel to the tall peeks until he caught a faint trail and decided to follow it. He climbed for a mile or better and rested the black several times. It was on one of these stops that he stepped from the saddle and changed from his riding boots into his knee-high moccasins. Lacing them into place, his eyes continued their scanning. Smiling to himself he saw the Black was doing the same, looking, seeing how the country lay.

He stood, putting the heeled boots back into the traveling bag. He gathered the reins on the black and tied them into a knot about six inches from the end of them and hooked them over the saddle horn. He loosened the cinch just a shade. Turning he headed up the trail on foot. The black waited a few steps then followed. They had traveled many a mile this way.

Nothing had traveled this faint trail in a long time and when Vin got to the top of the trail he saw why. The path had led to water at one time. There had been a small seep. The green moss and slime that formed around a seep had dried. The stained rocks still showed traces of color but the dried moss had flaked and been blown away or lay crumbled in the bottom of the shallow depression where the water had sat.

Vin saw the black sniffing around where the water had been and decided it was time for a drink. He walked to the black and pulled the canteen off the saddle horn. Reaching up, he pulled his bandanna off. Pulling the plug from the canteen, he splashed a little water onto the bandanna. He moved to the front of the black and put the strap from the canteen over his shoulder. Taking the bandanna, he wiped the dust and dirt from the black's muzzle and nose. Then making his hand into a cup, he carefully poured water from the canteen into the palm of his hand. The black knew how to drink this way, many a time they had shared water like this. He put his muzzle into the rough palm and sucked the water up. When the black had about six good swallows, Vin stepped back. Taking his wet hand, he wiped it over his face and then wiped the wetness away with the bandanna. He took a small sip from the canteen and put the stopper back in it. Taking the canteen, he put it back over the saddle horn, tied his bandanna back in place. Cinching up, he stepped into the saddle and started on the downward side of the path.

He continued the day that way, riding some times, walking others, stopping and following tracks he came across if they were fresh. Twice he followed old tracks and they led to old camping fires.

Near sunset he felt the black pick up the pace, and after a few minutes he smelled why, water. They came into a small stream bed, it cut deep into the side of a rock formation and water was pooled against the cliff.

Vin pulled the black to a halt and looked the spot over. It was a good place to camp. He stepped off Peso and led him to the water. Tasting the water before he let the black drink; it was cool and good. He let the horse drink several swallows and then took him over to where he would camp. Taking his saddle and gear off, he walked the black over to a grassy spot, pulled some of the long dry grass and rubbed the horse's back down with it. When he was finished, he put the hobbles on and pulled the bridle.

Going back to his gear, he started to set up camp. He made a small fire ring, about the size of his hat. Gathering wood, he searched the area for tracks, seeing deer, coyote, and small critter tacks. The sun was dropping down behind the western horizon when he started the fire.

He got the coffee going and made a quick meal of jerky and a fresh apple he'd bought in the town. When the coffee was ready, he pulled it off the fire. He'd let it settle for a few minutes. He got to his feet and walked over to where Peso was and shared the apple. Pulling the hobbles, he led him by his mane over to the water and let him drink his fill. Taking him back to the grassy area, he stepped back and waited for the horse to find a place to roll.

Vin smiled as the black found just the right spot, pawed the ground a little, folded his legs up and then laid down and rolled. The horse got to his feet and shook the dirt and grass from his coat and waited as Vin put the hobbles back on.

Vin felt the warm breath of his horse's muzzle as the horse inspected the top of his hat and then the snuffed his long hair. Standing, he put a hand to the horse's neck, looking off into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the night.

Off in the distance he could hear coyotes yapping up a song. An owl sailed by with a wing span of twelve feet at least and some small critter was moving about in the under brush.

He turned and headed back to the fire and the smell of coffee. Sitting down where he had laid his bed roll out, he poured himself coffee, sat back against his saddle and listened to the night. After a bit he pulled his harmonica out and played a few simple tunes. The moon was rising when he rolled his ground tarp over him, set his hat loosely on his head and laid back to go to sleep. With the Winchester tucked against his body, he closed his eyes.

He woke well into the night to look around. The glow from the coals of the fire had gone to a deep red. He added a few more thick sticks and noticed that the strip faced black had come to stand guard over him. He pulled the blanket and ground tarp up and went back to sleep.

First light found him ready to ride. He had curried the dust and dirt from Peso's coat, checking the horse's back to make sure he had not scratched it when he had rolled. Vin threw the saddle on, cinching him up. He made more coffee, using the grounds from last night and a few fresh ones, and had coffee and a cold biscuit, sharing a little of the biscuit with his horse. He had grained the black when he'd risen and they were ready to go when the glow from the sun turned the eastern horizon red and gold.

He rode as he had the day before, exploring old trails and tracks. He broke at noon when he found a big, good source of water. He and the black had a long drink and then took a bath. He stripped the saddle and bridle off the horse and saw the animal head into the water. Then Vin stripped his clothing off and went for a swim too.

Vin had learned to swim as a boy and like doing it. He watched as the black came out of the big pool, shook and then started grazing. Vin swam around a little and then crawled out onto a rock to dry. The Black had found a spot to lay down, he rolled then rested.

He dozed off an on, checking on the black and his surrounding area. After he was dry, he pulled his cloths on. He kept his moccasins. Then, hand brushing the black, he saddled him and rode on into the rest of the day.

He rode until almost dark. He found a camp with water and spent the night as he had before. The next sunrise found him in the saddle and heading up into the mountain on a trail that was wide and at one time had been used a lot.

At the end of it he found an abandoned town.

There were no signs of people; no one had been here in a long time. He sat horseback in the middle of the dirt street and looked at the wood and adobe buildings. The wind sifted through the buildings, giving it a lonely, haunted sound.

He rode down through the middle of town. He had no desire to get down and look around. He felt like there were eyes watching him, he stayed mounted. He'd leave the ghosts' to themselves. He knew Indians when they were out on the plains alone would not approach another single person. They thought they might be wandering spirits, spirit nomads that would possess their souls. He rode through, having that watched feeling. He found the end of the road led to a mine shaft. Look like at one time it had been a big operation, must have played out. He turned the black and, instead of riding out of the town the way he had come, he rode behind the town and back down the road to the cross trail. He paralleled the mountain again.

Looking at the changing landscape, he figured he was about another full day out of Four Corners. He thought again of the old abandoned town he had found. Four Corners had been close to being abandoned when he had come into it. There were more buildings closed than opened. He had been down on his luck. None of the ranchers were hiring, stage line didn't need no help and he had taken a job in the Dry Goods Store for five dollars a week with Virgil. Virgil had been a nice man to work for but pushing a broom and stocking shelves was not his kind of work. Then the cattle herd had shown up and things changed.

He smiled again at the way things had changed. He had stepped out onto the porch in front of the store, with a Winchester in his hand instead of a broom. Shoving bullets into the magazine, he listen to Virgil telling him if he took that rifle and went to stop that lynching he'd have to find a new job. He had looked up across the street and there stood a man dressed in black, green eyes staring straight at him. Something passed between them. In that split second they had sized each other up, known what they were gonna do and then the black hat tipped toward the ruckus that was leaving to lynch a man. Vin had nodded back and his life had changed from that moment on.

He made few friends; he kept his own council and allowed no one to lay a hand on him in anger. But that day he knew he had found someone he might be able to trust with a couple of his dark secrets. He had told Chris about one of them and had been not only accepted, but Chris and the boys had stood up for him a couple times. Chris had even promised to ride with him to Tuscosa an - - -

Tracks, fresh wagon tracks. He had been mussing about his life and had almost ridden past them. He pulled the black to a halt and looked the tracks over. It was a big, heavily laden wagon. And it was on a cross trail that was no more then a wild pig trail. It was late afternoon and this was not the place to take a loaded wagon with only two horses pulling it.

He looked at the trail and decided to follow it.

After a half mile he saw the track swept off to the side of the mountain and Vin was really surprised the wagon had not rolled over when the driver had changed directions. He could see where the uphill wheels had come off the ground. Then the wagon had gone back downhill and wandered.

Vin drew the black up and sat there leaning down across the saddle horn looking at the wagon tracks. If the driver wasn't dead drunk, Vin would be surprised. He decided to go ahead and track them down and find out what was going on.

He found the wagon an hour before sun set. The team stood braced against the weight of the wagon and the mountain. The back right wheel was splintered into a thousand pieces. He pulled his hogleg and laid it across his lap.

Vin drew up and looked at the scene. He thought he heard a soft moan.

"Hello to the wagon?" He sat still, listening for any sound, none came. Making a circle around the wagon, he came around to the front.

A man lay half out of the driver's box. Apparently he had been tossed across the box when the wheel had broken and the team had lurched forward, then stopped.

He rode up to the man, who hadn't moved and felt for a pulse, the man was dead.

"Please . . . help . . . please . . ."

Vin heard the faint cry for help and moved to the back of the wagon. Reaching in he pulled the cover back, revealing a woman holding a child to her.

Vin stepped Peso sideways and he stepped into the bed of the wagon and moved to the woman.

"Help . . . please." Her voice was a faint whisper. She was young and very ill. There were deep, dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were covered in a bright red rash. The small child she held in her arms was still and unmoving,

Vin reached out and touched the child's neck, feeling for a pulse, there was none. He started to take the child from her and she protested, but it didn't last long. She started to cough and doubled over in pain, crying.

Vin laid the child at the back of the wagon and covered her in a blanket he found. Then turned back to the woman, he moved to her as she tried to sit back up. As gently as possible he helped her lay back against the pallet she lay on.

She felt hot to the touch even through his gloves. Looking around the wagon he saw the water bucket and found a cup on the floor. Dipping it into the water bucket he gave her a little water and, finding a towel, he wet it and wiped her fevered brow.

He tried to comfort her as much as he could. He gave her small sips of water, wrapped her in a blanket, cooled her fevered brow. Her fever was so high she was delirious. She called him by several names. Her cough wracked her small thin body. She reached for him, calling him by a strange name. He felt so helpless. He gathered her into his arms, speaking softly to her, trying to find the words to comfort her. He heard her mumble something that sounded like thank you and he felt her relax and she died in his arms.

Vin Tanner buried the family, he marked their graves with crosses.

He knew what scarlet fever was.

He had un-harness the horses before he had dug the graves. He'd turned the horses loose. Then burned the wagon and all their belongings. He stood and watched the flames and smoke from the wagon curl into the night sky. He'd been in an Indian camp when 'the fever' had gone through it. It took the young, old and weak quickly, the strong slowly, spreading like wild fire.

He moved back away from the fire as it engulfed the wagon. Moving to a rock he crawled up on it and sat there, looking at the flames as they curled into the night sky. An inferno of dark blues, oranges and reds; tongues leaping into the void of darkness, flames dancing in the night. A young families hopes and dreams going up in smoke.

He sat with his right leg out in front of him, his left was drawn up and he rested his arms across the top of his knee and watched as the flame roared into the night.

Morning found him in the same spot. He knew he didn't have any choice, he couldn't go back to town. If he had the fever he could give it to the whole town. He knew some people got the fever and got better, but a lot more of them died, he had tended the sick and survived, he didn't know why.

He figured three or four days. If he didn't start showing signs of it then he'd be ok. He'd wait a week, then go in and have Nathan look him over after that amount of time. Right now he was going to need a place to hold-up.