Lamentably, I don't own the boys. Not even a lock of Vin's luscious, flowing mane. Sniff. I gain nothing more from this story than the kind words of reviewers (she types hopefully) and a few hours respite from a harsh reality. This is the second story in my Little Vin AU, following A Meeting of Damaged Souls. Mentions of child abuse, but nothing graphic. Probably worth having a hankie nearby.

Vin shifted his legs to take the pressure from his sore back and then shifted around onto his side, wriggling closer to the warmth he could sense even as he continued to slumber. Nuzzling in, he gave a happy little sigh, as he subconsciously registered the feeling of security he gained from the sound of his new guardian's heartbeat and the smell that surrounded him.

Waking abruptly, when a small foot kicked him very close to a favourite part of his anatomy, Ezra opened green eyes to behold the sight of his new son. A bright, loving smile split his face as he watched Vin wriggle and squirm in his sleep, working his way closer to the gambler. This had been going on all night; the southerner would roll away from the boy in his nocturnal travels and the boy would follow. At one point, the new father had woken to find an unusual, heavy sensation upon him, only to find his son using him as a mattress. The kitten-like snore of the boy made the gambler huff out a laugh, even as he valiantly resisted the almost overwhelming urge to crush the child in a tight embrace.

It had been many years since Vin had slept so deeply and so long, but for once he slept without fear. The dawn crept in and brushed his face with its light fingers, but the child slept on oblivious.

Reaching with his own long, slender fingers to delicately brush away the fine, blond hair which seemed to have attained a life of its own since being washed, Ezra memorised every feature of Vin's elfin face. Frowning over the bruises, as he traced down the high cheek bone and along the square jaw, he vowed that no-one would ever hurt the boy again if it were in his power to stop it. Placing his arm around Vin tenderly, Ezra settled in to get some more sleep, wanting to let Vin catch up on all the rest he could get.

Chris looked around at his fellow peacekeepers and hid his grin with his coffee mug. Josiah and Nathan were the epitome of cool, calm and collected; provided you disregarded Nathan's frequent concerned glances towards the stairs and Josiah's repeated throat clearing and the grip he had on the cross he wore. Buck and JD were behaving as they usually did, only JD was more fidgety than usual and Buck slightly more boisterous.

Finally, Buck couldn't take it anymore, all but shouting, "Damn it, how much longer are they gonna sleep? Wouldn't have thought the young'un would be sleepin' this long, even if it is normal for Ez. I'm just gonna go up n' check on 'em. Could be somethin' wrong."

"It's only nine o'clock, Buck, and the kid probably hasn't slept properly in years. Leave 'em be," ordered Chris, pushing his empty mug away from himself. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be on patrol? And shouldn't you be at the jail, JD?"

"Awwww, Chris. I wanted to talk to the little fella. Thought he'd be down so we could all have breakfast together, seein's it's his first morning. I want him to feel welcome," complained JD, looking towards the stairs again in an effort to avoid looking at his leader.

"Well, they ain't gonna be down for breakfast, so you might as well go and get some work done, boy. We'll be back for lunch and they're sure to be up by then," exclaimed Buck, standing up and slapping his hat on at the same time and he knocked JD's hat off. The pointed look Chris had directed at him was reason enough to get himself and the kid moving.

Scrambling to reclaim his precious bowler before Buck stomped on it, JD cried, "Dammit Buck! Leave my hat alone!"

Jolting awake with a muffled cry, Vin wondered where he was and who was holding him. Whoever it was, they were lying behind him with their arm tucked around him. His head was lying on the person's hand and he was hugging their forearm like the stuffed bear he'd had as a baby. Beaufort, the bear, had been taken from him by one of the soldiers, who'd told the grieving six year old that he was too old for such things. Vin had his spare set of clothes, Mama's neckerchief, his Granpa's spyglass and his Pa's harmonica in an old flour sack, but had been carrying Beau for comfort. The shock of losing his Indian family and his home so suddenly was compounded by seeing his furry friend callously thrown in the nearest fire. He'd rushed forward with a wail but was caught up by another soldier and carried kicking and screaming to a wagon. Thrown in the back roughly, the soldier had hit him hard across the face when he kept trying to get out. After that he'd huddled in a corner hugging his flour sack and cried all the way to the orphanage. The only reason he still had the neckerchief, harmonica and spyglass was that he'd tied the latter to his body with the former while he was waiting in the wagon outside the orphanage. Watching his once happy home burning through tear drenched eyes and hearing the wailing of the dying get fainter as the wagon rolled away, Vin began to subconsciously shut down his emotions in an innate bid for emotional safety.

It was a silent boy who was handed over to the man running the orphanage, who immediately confiscated his flour sack and took his spare clothes for the communal good. Fortunately, he was distracted from searching the suspicious lumps on Vin's body by the arrival of the local reverend. Vin spoke only when asked a direct question and only with the bare minimum of words.

Being on the small side, he was the instant target of the older and bigger kids. His long hair and the fact that he'd been found living with 'savages' meant most families refused to take him in. Those who did take him did so for free labour, but soon returned him when it transpired that he was too weak for the heavy chores they wanted him to do. Vin tried as hard as he possibly could, desperate to remain outside of the orphanage and hoping that if he was good enough that someone would want him. Vin saw the back of many a hand in those dark days, hit for being too slow, too fast, too silent, too vocal, too small, too big, too weak... well, seemed he just wasn't good for anything it seemed and his already battered self-esteem sunk to almost non-existent. All he had to cling to was the love in his mama's eyes when she looked at him and the pride in her voice as she'd told him, 'Remember you're a Tanner, son'.

Never a husky child, his weight plummeted as his food was stolen by others at the orphanage or withheld as punishment by both the orphanage and the foster homes he was placed in. Then Mr Oliver took him in. Vin had not long been back at the orphanage and was recovering from yet another harsh placement, when an old man with long greasy hair that he kept smoothing back came into the communal room. Something about the man gave Vin shivers, fear running through him on a primal level. The man had seemed to glide around the room, studying each child he passed, pinching them and holding their chins to study their faces. Finally he'd arrived in the corner where Vin was trying to scrunch down and make himself invisible. It didn't work. It never worked. The predatory look in the cold, pale blue eyes as they'd roamed over his face and body in the communal room had caused a shudder to run through Vin, but that only seemed to please the strange man more.

Squeezed into the seat of the surrey as far from the man as possible, Vin had rubbed his chin, which was bruised from the fierce grip of his new guardian. Mr Oliver had seen the movement and told him on the wagon ride to his house that Vin should be grateful that he'd been taken in, because the orphanage had been going to sell him to slavers since no-one else wanted such a bad, little boy. Mr Oliver had made him do nasty things to show proper gratitude for the food scraps and thin, filthy blankets he was given. Mr Oliver made him do things that sometimes left him in agony, feeling all kinds of dirty.

Vin wasn't at Mr Oliver's long before his desperation drove him to run away in the early hours of the morning, when he knew the man was sleeping deeply. Trudging along a trail, he'd been picked up by Mr Wilson, who figured he could use the boy, especially once he hit the gold fields. Why break his own back when he could make the boy do all the work for him? Vin was still beaten, starved, left in the cold and yelled at, but he wasn't expected to be 'grateful' like Mr Oliver had wanted him to be, so he made do until he got somewhere better.

Suddenly, all the memories rushed back of the wagon crashing the day before. Mr Wilson had been drinking again, blaming him for drawing the peacekeepers' attention to them and forcing them to leave town early. Once they were far enough away from town, Mr Wilson had stopped and dragged him from the wagon, forcing him to take his shirt off and kneel in front of him. After removing the razor strop from the wagon, the man had hit him with the strop so many times that Vin had lost count. Finally, the beating had ended but only because Mr Wilson was too tired to continue. Shaking too hard to put his shirt back on or move, he'd been roughly grabbed and thrown back into the wagon like a piece of rubbish. Curling up into a ball, clutching his only shirt, Vin had sobbed silently until he'd passed out.

When next he'd woken, it was to the sound of his guardian drunkenly berating Peso. Mr Wilson had decided poor Peso wasn't going fast enough, so he'd been flailing the animal's back, rump and ears with his driver's whip and yelling foul abuse. Just as Vin had gathered the energy to try and do something to help his four-legged friend, Peso had decided he'd had enough and bolted, taking them on a wild but short ride across the bumpy desert. The wagon had hit a rut and overturned, making boy, man and horse scream.

Sniffling, as tears prickled behind his eyes making his nose run, he hugged Ezra's arm tighter. He'd woken up after the accident with a really bad headache, sore ribs and his back and wrist felt like they were on fire. Dragging himself up, he'd gone to the front of the wagon, calling for Mr Wilson softly. Seeing the man crumpled in the dirt, he'd tiptoed over and called his guardian a little louder. Getting no response, he'd looked around dazedly for help, noting that they were in the middle of nowhere and that Peso was still struggling to free himself from what was left of the traces, screaming in pain and anger. Stumbling over to the big horse, talking in a low, soothing voice, he'd tried to quiet the panicking animal. Finally, he went back to the wagon and rummaged in the tumbled contents to find Mr Wilson's big knife, using it to cut Peso free of the last strap.

The big black had reared, plunged, twisted, sunfished and then taken off into the distance, leaving Vin crying and calling out to him beseechingly. As the horse had run past the body of Wilson, he'd clipped him with a hoof, flipping the man onto his back. Concussed and traumatised, Vin started out after the horse but stopped to stare at the dead face of his tormentor. Flies were already crawling in and out of the nostrils and slack mouth, as well as all over the open eyes. Shuddering violently, Vin had doubled over and emptied his stomach of the pitiful amount in it, then wiping his mouth on the back of his hand he tore himself away and began a staggered jog after his horse.

The concussed boy had lost track of time, his body going numb with shock and unaware of the state of his feet. Finally, he'd found the spring and sunk down to drink his fill, only to throw it back up after drinking too quickly. The agony of vomiting with broken ribs had overwhelmed him and he'd lost consciousness again. The next thing he knew, he had woken alone beside the spring and started to cry as his stomach cramped and added to his misery. It hadn't been long after that that Mr Ezra and his friends had found him and taken him back to town.

Tears brimmed and rolled over the bridge of his nose, dripping to the hand underneath as he thought of his poor horse. Peso hadn't done anything to deserve the treatment he'd gotten and was probably dead now, left out in the desert with the coyotes. Lifting a hand to swipe an annoying strand of hair from his eyes, the boy ran his fingers slowly down the shortened length, remembering his haircut. This led to thoughts of his missing treasures and he wondered if Mr Ezra would take him back out the ruins of the wagon to retrieve them. Thinking of the time they'd encountered a rolled wagon on the way here from Tascosa and how Mr Wilson had ransacked it, taking anything he deemed valuable, Vin figured that his treasures were probably long gone. A sob broke free as he realised that all links to his past had been stripped from him, even his long hair. All he had left was his name.

On the verge of waking, Ezra had smiled when he felt his arm being hugged but that smile soon fell as he felt the tiny body curled in front of him start to quake. Moisture gathered in the palm of his hand as Vin's tears collected there and the audible sob was the last straw. Gently turning the child towards him, the gambler asked, "What is it, sweet boy? Bad dream?"

Burrowing into the southerner's chest, Vin shook his head and snuffled. Despite his past experiences with Mr Oliver, Vin knew that Mr Ezra wouldn't hurt him like that. Being held by Mr Ezra felt like being held by his Mama, Stalking Wolf or Trembling Blossom – it felt safe, which was a powerful emotion for Vin.

Lightly stroking his hand over the soft curls at the back of Vin's neck, Ezra waited patiently for an explanation.

Sucking in a breath and holding it to try and rein in his crying, Vin said haltingly, "I's fine, Mr Ezra. I's jist thinkin' on ole Peso. He was a g... a good h-horse. Didn't deserve ta end up gettin' et up by coyotes all alone."

Shocked that he hadn't told Vin of his equine friend's fate, Ezra cuddled the boy closer.

"Vin, Peso is perfectly fine. My friend, Chanu, found him near his village and brought him back to the livery. Tiny is looking after him for you, as he had some cuts, bruises and sores that needed tending along with a strained front leg. But Peso will be just fine with some rest, good food and care. We can go over and see him later, if it will set your mind easy," explained the gambler, glad that he could offer this small measure of reassurance to the traumatised boy.

Leaning back out to scrutinise the man's face, Vin asked, hardly daring to hope, "Peso ain't dead?"

Delicately wiping Vin's tears and snot from his face with the cuff of his nightshirt, Ezra smiled and repeated firmly, "Peso isn't dead."

"Kin we go see 'im right now?"

Chuckling at his charge's eagerness, Ezra suggested, "We'll get dressed and then go to the livery after we've broken our fast, alright? I don't think you're up for anything too greasy just yet, but Inez makes quite delicious oatmeal with wild honey to drizzle on top."

A tiny tummy rumbled at the thought of food, making Vin's face flame red with embarrassment and wariness. Hearing Ezra laugh, he looked up with a shy smile. When he was gathered into strong arms and hugged, he hugged back just as hard.

Instructing Vin to stay on the bed, as Nathan has advised him to stay off his ravaged feet for a week, Ezra got up and crossed to the door. Unlocking and opening it, he leaned out and issued a piercing whistle.

Seeing Vin's bewildered look, Ezra's mouth quirked at the corner as he explained, "Raphael, the boy Inez employs to help her with errands, will be waiting to bring up the hot water for my morning ablutions. The whistle is his signal that I'm awake and ready for it to be brought up. I suspect that one or more of my friends are hovering downstairs, waiting to greet us, so Nathan will probably be here shortly to check on your injuries."

Scowling at the thought of more poking and prodding, Vin mumbling, "I's fine, Mr Ezra. Don't need no more healin'."

"Oh my boy, if only it were that simple," laughed Ezra, pleased at the lad's show of spirit as well as being amused at their shared dislike of being subjected to the medical profession. "I'm afraid it's not up to us though. Mr Jackson will not rest until you are one hundred percent healed and I've found it most prudent to just let him have his way."

"Glad to hear that, Ez. Should make it easier on me next time you're down with a sick headache, or shot," drawled Nathan from the now open doorway, where he stood holding two jugs of steaming water.

Shaking his head, Ezra replied, "Knocking to request permission to enter is the polite thing to do, Mr Jackson."

"Yeah, yeah," agreed Nathan, moving in and putting down the jugs that he'd taken off Raphael. Pouring some of the water into a bowl after he'd added herbs from a fold of paper he pulled from his shirt pocket and adding some of the cool water from the jug that was already in the room, he moved over to kneel beside the bed where Vin was sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. Smiling up at the wary waif, the healer spoke softly, asking, "Don't suppose y'all remember me, but my name's Nathan and I'm the healer here in Four Corners. Is it alright if I check on your hurts?"

Flicking a swift, frightened look to Ezra, Vin swallowed hard and nodded after he'd received a reassuring nod from the southerner.

Ezra walked around the bed and sat beside Vin, pulling the child onto his lap and taking his small, cold hands into his own much larger and warmer hands.

Relaxing back against the warmth of the gambler, Vin nodded to Nathan to indicate his readiness and braced himself for the pain as the healer started to remove the bandages from his feet.

The eldest of the seven had remained at the table, chuckling at the antics of their younger brothers, especially Nathan's sprint to intercept Raphael and appropriate the hot water to take up to the gambler. The healer had been twitching with the need to check on his latest patient, so the sharp whistle had been like a starter's signal at a horse race. Inez came over to refill their mugs with more coffee before returning to the kitchen. Each silently ruminating on their thoughts, all three were startled by Mary Travis' sudden appearance in the Saloon.

"Is it true, Mr Larabee?"

Pushing his hair back out of his eyes, Chris blinked up at the force of nature that was Mary Travis and growled, "Is what true?"

Oblivious to her surroundings, Mary was fluffed up in indignant ire. As part of her job as the editor of the Clarion, she saw it as her duty to know everything about anything that happened in her town. So when Tiny had told her that their resident gambler had taken in a small boy and looked to be set on keeping him, she was righteously outraged that a helpless child would be exposed to the moral turpitude that surrounded the southerner. It was true that Ezra had saved her life and could be quite charming, but children should be raised within a family unit not a saloon. Seeing the indifference that the gunslinger, on whom she had a secret girlish crush, was now showing her just increased her indignation, making her foolish enough to say, "Why, that Mr Standish has taken in the orphan boy from the wagon crash and is intending to raise him as his own."

"Oh that, yeah, that's true," admitted Chris, with an enviable nonchalance. Josiah and Inez, who had come running from the kitchen at the first shrill shriek, mentally battened down the hatches as they waited for the fiery blonde woman to explode.

"IT'S TRUE! But how can you allow that? He.. he lives above a saloon, for heaven's sake," shrieked Mary, her fair complexion turning red with frustration at how little concern the leader of the seven was showing. "No innocent child should be forced to live above a saloon. Where will he play? Who will teach him right from wrong? Where will he sleep? What will happen to him when Mr Standish tires of playing Daddy? I hardly think that Mr Standish is a suitable role model for a child and I'm surprised that you two gentlemen haven't put a stop to this nonsense."

"I think Ezra will make a great role model for a child. He's intelligent, witty, brave, respectful to others, and generous with his time and knowledge," protested Josiah gruffly, affronted by the newswoman's blunt assassination of his heart son's character, he half rose from his seat ominously.

"Seems Ez was good enough to save your life not long back, Mrs Travis," observed Chris, also clearly annoyed by the woman. "Seems to me you should be showing a lot more gratitude to the man."

Face reddening further at being reminded that she was indebted to the gambler she was denigrating, Mary tried a different tack, arguing, "Well, yes, but that just goes to show how dangerous his lifestyle is and how quickly the boy could be left alone again. And surely you gentlemen can agree that a saloon is no place for an innocent child."

"Raphael lives here with us in the saloon, Senora, and he is not much older than Ezra's boy. He lived in a saloon in his home village too, with his family. Are you saying that Raphael is no longer innocent or is bad because of this? I live over the saloon, as does Ezra, are you saying that we are less for living above our business than you are for living behind yours," enquired Inez, from behind the bar, smiling in a manner that would freeze the surface of the sun. She had listened to the nosy woman's objections and was offended for both herself and her fellow saloon dwellers.

Suddenly feeling as though she were outnumbered, particularly since Chris had done nothing but glare at her since she'd started, Mary nervously smoothed down her skirt and replied, "Raphael is nearly twelve and works here, which is different. I was led to understand that the child Ezra has taken in is more along the lines of five or six years of age. An age where little boys are into everything and soak up knowledge and experiences like sponges. It's important that they're in a loving, nurturing environment. What's more little boys that age need a mother's touch…"

"Is that why you send your little boy so far away, Mrs Travis? So that he may enjoy his mother's touch all the more on the brief visits you allow him," asked Ezra in a glacial voice from the top of the stairs, where he stood with Vin on his hip. He had stood there for a while, listening to the newswoman cast aspersions on his character, until he'd felt Vin tense up and clutch his jacket tightly. Glancing at the boy, he saw his face filled with the apprehension that the strange women might sway the gambler into giving him up. Pressing a light kiss to the boy's forehead, he'd taken a few more steps before starting his defence.

"I sent Billy to his grandparents for his own safety, as you well know. It's too dangerous in Four Corners for children and there's no school..." protested the flustered woman, feeling the tides turn against her.

"Yes, I quite understand. Of course, you will be mounting much the same objections to Mrs Potter keeping Josh and Katie with her. No? Of course not, since Mrs Potter is their mother and they need a mother's touch... So, since you are well aware that a child of Billy's age needs a mother's touch and knowing how traumatised your only child was at the recent loss of his father, you went with him. The good judge and his excellent wife would have welcomed you both into their home. But wait... You didn't go with him, did you? Thus proving that you really believe that any kind touch will suffice."

"I had to earn a living, had to support my son and myself," cried Mary weakly, wishing she'd never come in here. She should have just spoken to Orin and gotten him to order the seven to relinquish the child into more appropriate care. "The town needed me to continue with the paper. The town needs The Clarion."

"Rubbish! The Travis family is a wealthy one - certainly wealthy enough to support a widow and her one small child. As to the town needing you and the paper, that is also pure fabrication as there are many flourishing towns without a paper. Or, if you needed the money as you say, you could have sold the publication thereby ensuring yourself of a nice start up fund and ensuring that the town continues to benefit from its source of editorial vitriol," refuted Ezra, trying to hand Vin back to Nathan but finding that the child was clinging to him like a burr. Resigning himself to having the lad exposed to Mary's hysterics, he shrugged to Nathan and settled Vin back on his hip.

"How dare you! If it weren't for me, Nathan would have been hung by that mob! The town needed me to stay. I'm its voice of reason! Its conscience!"

"Oh please madam, you stayed because you wanted to continue in what you see as a position of power. If you'd moved to Denver to live with the Judge and Mrs Travis, you would no longer be able to try and influence a town via the only source of news. You would no longer have the means to force your opinions on the general populace. You would no longer have an excuse for forcing your way into private situations and nosing into affairs that do not concern you. If you had gone to Denver, you would have been exposed as the small-minded, over-opinionated, prudish gossip that you truly are at heart. No, Madam, you did not stay for any altruistic reasons and the only person you're deluded with that excuse is yourself," replied Ezra, his voice low but vehement, holding Vin closer as the child began to tremble. Truly disliking such an ugly scene, Ezra hated that he was arguing with a woman in front of Vin. It wasn't the example he wanted to set, but then he also wanted the child to grow up believing that he should stand up to people of either gender in defence of himself or those he loved.

Disliking confrontations, even one that was conducted in the even tones being used by his hero, Vin started to shake. Wishing he could get down and hide but not wanting to leave the safe haven of the gambler's arms, he hid his face on Ezra's shoulder and clutched his red jacket.

Her face almost puce with rage as her fingers bent like claws and moved towards the stairs, Mary shrieked, "HOW DARE YOU!"

Chris smoothly rose and grabbed the irate woman around the waist. Grinning as he grabbed her wrists with his free hand, he suggested to Ezra, "Reckon you'd best head out to Mrs Potter's, pard. Get your boy some pants."

Taking a deep breath, Ezra nodded curtly and answered, "Since I seem to have quite lost my appetite, as I'm sure Vin has also from this unnecessary unpleasantness, I think that would be best."

Touching two fingers to his hat brim towards his friends and glaring at the seething newspaper woman, Ezra left the saloon. Cradling Vin to his chest, he hurried through down the street to the Potter's store. The boy was only wearing his long johns and one of Ezra's shirts, since his old clothes had been suitable only for burning. Vin had protested against going out 'nekkid' as he put it, but Ezra had persuaded him.

Hearing the tinkle of the bell over the door, Gloria Potter looked up from her button counting to see who was entering. Seeing Ezra and his small charge, she smiled warmly and hurried forward. Seeing an unusually dark look in the southern gentleman's eyes, she asked, "Is something wrong, Mr Standish? Is your boy sick?"

Ezra and Vin both felt a thrill of happiness at hearing the kindly woman refer to Vin as Ezra's boy and relaxed accordingly. The shop smelled of oatmeal cookies and Vin's stomach protested its emptiness loudly, echoed by Ezra's to his shame.

"Vin is fine, Mrs Potter. We've just had an unsettling encounter with our resident newspaper woman," replied Ezra, scowling back in the direction of the saloon. Then he smiled wanly and continued, "It put us off our morning repast, so we decided to come to your wonderful emporium and shop for a new wardrobe for Vin."

"Neither of you have eaten yet this morning?"

The horror in Gloria's voice widened Ezra's smile as he merely shook his head.

"Well, that just won't do at all," exclaimed Gloria, bustling over to the doorway between her store and her home. Turning back, she gestured for Ezra to follow her, saying, "Come on, I'll whip you up some pancakes."

"Ah, whilst that does sound delicious, I believe that I would prefer some oatmeal if it weren't too much bother," replied the southerner with a subtle head tilt towards Vin, who was curiously observing his surroundings whilst trying not to be obvious about it.

Remembering what she'd heard about the tragic circumstances of the child's arrival in town, Gloria nodded and started darting around her kitchen, saying cheerfully, "Oh that's no problem at all, Mr Standish. Please, sit down and rest a spell. It will only take a moment. Until then, here's some coffee for yourself and milk for our boy."

Realising he hadn't introduced Vin, Ezra hastened to correct his rudeness. "Mrs Potter, I'd like you to meet Vin Tanner. Vin, this lovely lady is Mrs Gloria Potter. She owns this store and has two children called Beth and Joshua, whose company I'm sure you'll enjoy once you've met."

Sitting up as straight as his injuries would allow, Vin nodded to Gloria and murmured a shy 'pleased to meetcha'.

Utterly charmed by the blue eyes and devastated by the bruising to the child's face, Gloria ran a motherly hand over Vin's hair and said, "I'm pleased to meet you too, Vin. I'm sure Beth and Josh will love having another child around to play with, as well."

Turning to the stove, Gloria surreptitiously wiped her wet eyes with her apron and started the oatmeal. She and the gambler chatted about inconsequential matters whilst they waited on the cereal to cook, while Vin sat and enjoyed his milk, soaking up the warm, homey atmosphere of the kitchen.

After a filling and delicious breakfast, Ezra carried Vin into the shop where he bought Vin more clothes than the awed child had ever seen, let alone owned. Two more pairs of long johns, five pairs of socks, a sturdy pair of boots with just a little room to grow, five cotton shirts in different colours, two pairs of denim overalls and two pairs of denim pants. Sitting on his perch on top of the barrels of molasses, Vin watched with his mouth open as Ezra fitted various thing against him before either returning them to the shelf or adding them to the growing pile on the counter. Several handkerchiefs, a couple of neckerchiefs, a pair of braces and a good coat went on the counter. Vin's sharp eyes were wandering over the store and kept returning to one item on the shelf in particular, skittering away whenever he thought Mr Ezra was looking. After a hat had been selected for him, he saw a toothbrush, comb, bag of marbles, three books and some toy soldiers were also on the pile. As he stared in astonishment at the toys, he failed to notice Mr Ezra's movements until he was standing in front of him again.

"Vin? I saw you looking in this jolly chap's direction. Do you feel we should adopt him and end his lonely existence here in the shop?"

Gulping, Vin turned impossibly large, tear-filled eyes on the gambler and whispered, "Really? I can have him fer mah own? I ain't... I ain't too old?"

Still holding out the home-made, cotton-stuffed, brown flannel bear, Ezra's heart lurched at the naked hope shining from Vin's luminous blue eyes as he replied seriously, "If you want him, he's yours, Vin. As for being too old... I'd say you're never too old to be the friend of such a fine bear as this one."

"That's right, sweetheart. Josh is ten and he still has his bear. Beth is seven and still has her stuffed dog. If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll tell you a secret..." said Gloria, reassuringly.

Nodding, Vin leaned in to hear what Mrs Potter whispered.

"I'm a grown woman and I still have the rag doll that my Mama made me when I was younger than you. She's upstairs on a chair in my room."

Deciding that Mr Ezra and Mrs Potter were both much smarter than that dumb old bluebelly who'd burned Beaufort up, Vin reached out and took the bear from Ezra and held him close. He was a fat bear, like Beaufort had been, good and solid. A comforting size and weight in his arms, he rubbed his cheek on the soft toy contentedly and sighed in what sounded to the listening adults as pure relief.

Swallowing at the lump in his throat, Ezra asked huskily, "What will you call him?"

Regarding his new friend carefully, Vin chewed his lower lip as he thought about it and then announced, "Barnabus."

Grinning, Ezra nodded, picked up one of the toy's paws and shook it as he bowed and said formally, "Barnabus the bear, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How do you do, sir? Ezra P. Standish at your service."

A bright smile lit Vin's face at his guardian's silliness, as the child giggled for the first time in their presence.

Delighted by the sound, Ezra laughed and plucked up boy and bear to hug close, mindful of his boy's hurts.

Gloria stood back with her hands clasped at her bosom and grinned with joy to see the interactions between Ezra and Vin, thinking that they acted as though they truly were father and son. A tear slid down her face as memories of her husband with Josh flashed through her mind. Lord, but she missed that man. Shaking the grief away, she wiped her cheek dry on her apron and went to pick out some clothes for Vin to wear straight away, before parcelling up the rest for delivery.

Ezra and Vin took the clothes into the kitchen so that the shy little boy could change with some privacy. Proudly wearing a pair of his new overalls, with his blue check shirt, red neckerchief, socks, boots, hat and coat, Vin added a clean handkerchief to his pocket and sat up straight on the counter for inspection.

"You look very handsome, Vin," approved the southerner, patting a thin shoulder carefully.

"Thank yer fer the new clothes, Mr Ezra. I promise I'll take real good care of 'em," said Vin, sincerely. He knew how much money everything had cost and was determined to prove himself worthy.

Memories of standing on the fringes of play groups, watching other children shriek and run about, or play marbles in the dirt, accosted Ezra. Memories of lectures and scoldings from his mother and other temporary guardians because he had come in with a smudge of soot on his sleeve from the train, or a rent in his trousers from being pushed down by bullies, flashed through his mind. Wanting his son to be one of the carefree children, rather than the lonely outcast who was bullied for prissiness, Ezra said, "Now, once Nathan says you're allowed to walk and play, these will be play clothes. I want you to know that any dirt they accumulate can be washed and any tears can be mended. Alright?"

Nodding solemnly, knowing that this was important to the green-eyed man, Vin agreed.

"It may sound strange to be telling you this, but my Mother insisted that I always appear neat and clean. I was forbidden from playing games with other children, in case I should become dirty or tear my clothes. I missed out on a lot of fun as a result and I don't want that happening to you, Vin. Children should be able to play freely without worrying about their clothes. My only concern is your safety, so have a care for yourself when playing and it will be fine. Having said that, if you do hurt yourself, come to me or one of the other seven or Mrs Potter immediately. Agreed?"

Nodding again, Vin felt a flush of warmth at the concern shown for him and murmured, "Yessir."

"Good lad," congratulated the gambler, picking the boy up and giving him a hug before settling him on his hip. Scooping Barnabus off the counter and handing him to Vin, Ezra walked back out to the shop to find Mrs Potter serving customers.

Mrs Potter stopped what she was doing when she noticed them and beamed, gushing, "You've got yourself a handsome lad there, Mr Standish."

Blushing and looking down at his bear, Vin murmured his embarrassed thanks as Ezra's face split with a proud grin as he added his concurrence.

Nettie Wells turned from the counter, where she'd been looking at a catalogue, and appraised the gambler and the boy Tiny had told her about that morning. She'd stopped at the livery to get her old mare reshod and the enormous liveryman had cheerfully filled her in with the town gossip.

"Who have ya got there, Fancyman?"

"Ah, Mrs Wells, allow me to introduce you to my new son, Vin Tanner. Vin, this lady is Mrs Nettie Wells. She and her niece, Miss Casey, live on a ranch about an hour or so out of town," replied Ezra, hoping this meeting went as well as the one between Vin and Mrs Potter. He didn't want Vin raised solely in the company of his male friends, knowing how important it was to have a female influence as a child. Well, a positive female influence. Maude was hardly that and besides, she was never around.

"Pleased ta meetcha, Miz Wells," offered Vin, touching the brim of his new hat and dipping his head as he'd seen Ezra do when greeting ladies in the street.

"Pleased to meet you too, son," replied Nettie, trying to prevent the smile that was tugging at her lips from blooming. "Why are you being carried? Bit big fer that, ain'tcha?"

Bouncing Vin a little to cheer him, when he saw the child's embarrassment at Nettie's blunt question, Ezra answered smoothly, "Vin has some hurts from the wagon accident he was in and the walk he took to find water afterwards, including extremely raw soles on his feet, Mrs Wells. Nathan has recommended that Vin stay off them for a week."

Reddening a little at the subtly chiding tone, knowing she deserved it, Nettie threw her head up and stated, "Well, I am sorry to hear that. It's good that yer doin' what Nathan says. Ain't never known a healer so good at his work as that man. Should be up and running around right quick, won't ya, son?"

Peeking at her from beneath his lashes, Vin mumbled, "Yes'm."

Ezra watched smugly as the wizened crone melted under the force of his son's shy charm.

Reaching to run the backs of her work gnarled fingers over Vin's bruised cheek, Nettie smiled and offered, "Maybe when the boy is feelin' better, ya could come visiting, Mr Standish. I'm sure Vin here would like to meet my barn cat and her new kittens. I'll be sure to have some of my apple pie and fresh cream waiting, if ya send word of when yer comin'."

Seeing Vin's interest in the kittens and the pie, Ezra graced Nettie with one of his more dazzling smiles and replied, "Why, Mrs Wells, that sounds like an offer that is entirely too tempting to refuse. Vin is still on somewhat bland rations at the moment, on Nathan's orders, but as soon as he's better I shall send word."

Nodding with satisfaction, Nettie huffed, "See that ya do. Ya both need some meat on ya bones. My pie should see to that."

Bidding the ladies farewell, after arranging for Vin's new belongings to be sent over to the Saloon and the cost to be put on Ezra's tab, Ezra and Vin made their way out into the sunshine. Enjoying a leisurely stroll around town, Ezra pointed out all the buildings so that Vin could navigate on his own. When they got to the livery, they found Buck who'd just returned from patrol.

"Well, howdy there little pard, how are ya feelin' today? And who's ya friend?"

"I's fine, Mr Buck," answered Vin amiably. Holding up his bear with only a tint of a blush, he said, "This here's ma new bear, Barnabus. Mr Ezra jist bought 'im fer me at tha store."

"Heck of a fine bear he is too, kid. Betcha both have some grand adventures together," announced Buck after pretending to scrutinise the toy from every angle.

Nodding sagely, Vin hugged the bear back into his chest and started craning his neck, trying to see his horse. He could hear the animal as it stomped and snorted, letting out shrill whinnies. He could also hear a deep male voice cussing Peso, which made him nervous.

"I'm not sure if we should rescue Peso from Tiny, or the other way around, but we'd best do something quickly," suggested Ezra, nodding to Buck and moving towards the furthest stall, from whence the commotion was emanating. "Mr Anderson, if I may interject."

Tiny backed out of the stall, rubbing his behind and glowering darkly at the unrepentant horse. In fact, the horse was flipping his upper lip and nodding his head as though laughing at the big man. Stomping his front feet, Peso tossed his mane defiantly.

"Mr Standish. I know ya paying me to nurse that devil, but I can't get near it no more. Damn thing bit me on the ass! Twice!"

A small giggle erupted from Vin, who hastily clapped his hand over his mouth and shrank back into Ezra.

Peering through the shadows, Tiny gasped and stammered, "Oh dam.. Dang! Sorry, Mr Standish. I didn't know ya had yer boy with ya, or I'da curbed my language."

"That's quite alright, Mr Anderson, I'm sure Vin has heard much worse. What's more, I'm sure he knows better than to use such language himself, correct?"

Nodding up at Ezra, murmuring his agreement, Vin then turned to look longingly at his horse. Peso had hung his head over the stall gate in an effort to get closer to his small friend, having heard his voice.

Obligingly, Ezra moved closer to the animal despite Tiny's warnings. When Vin leaned towards the horse, Buck grabbed Barnabus, who was in danger of falling to the floor. Now with two arms free, Vin wrapped them around Peso's neck and laid his cheek on the horse's warm hide, his hat falling back and hanging from the stampede strap.

"Well, I'll be dam.. uh, I'll be," muttered the liveryman, stunned at the suddenly docile horse. "Will ya lookit that? Turned into a lamb, right in front of my eyes."

"Love can conquer the foulest tempered beast," allowed Ezra, an indulgent smile on his face as he continued to hold Vin close to the now placid animal. An eyebrow arched as the horse started nuzzling his pocket gently, looking for the peppermints he could smell.

"Ain't that the truth," agreed Buck, thinking of Chris and Sarah. Chris' temper had rarely made an appearance once he'd met Sarah, as happiness and love softened the hardened Union Captain. Then his boy, Adam, had come along and completed his happiness. For five idyllic years, Buck had been included in the cheerful little family, only to have it shattered by fire and despair. Chris' black moods and raging, uncontrollable tempers flared back into life, roaring and snarling at the unfairness of life. For many years, it had hung like a millstone around his old friend's neck, threatening to drag him under the turbulent waters of grief to his own death. But then he'd saved Nathan from a hanging, been recruited to save an Indian village, gathered Josiah, Nathan, Ezra and himself to the cause and had JD forced on him. Slowly but surely, they'd all hauled the gunslinger back from the edge by forming a ragtag sort of family.

Knowing where the lanky lothario's thought had taken him, Ezra thanked whatever deity was smiling on them the day that they all met. Gazing at the blissful face of his child, he offered further thanks for them bringing him this latest blessing.

TBC… maybe.