TWO WEEKS LATER

Chris Larabee, stripped to the waist, strained to reach into the depths beneath the riverbanks. He could feel up and into the crannies that had been hollowed there by eddies and currents that were in turn churned up by the rapids at his back. Barefoot, his toes sank into the silty mud that clouded the water.

"Not this time, Wilmington." His mind growled. He was oblivious to the water bugs and red eared minnows that danced away from his intrusion. The daddy long legs and other spiders on the bank didn't even register.

With single-minded determination Chris Larabee took a breath and dove underwater for a better reach into where the river concealed its secrets and that which he would claim as its own.

He didn't notice that the pecan trees lowered the temperature by ten degrees in their shade. His fingers sought unsuccessfully for their target - their goal. Nothing. "Not this time. If I could..."

As he was finally forced to break the surface for air, he heard frantic splashing and loud shouts downstream. "Damn. Damn. Damn."

He looked to his right. Buck Wilmington was stretched in the water along the bank, chest deep in the water. Stripped from the waist up, burned skin peeling from his back, chest and forehead, he rested his left wrist precariously on the bank. That was the only concession he gave to protecting his broken hand; the bandages on which were again wet and dirty.

Nathan would be pissed. Good, Larabee thought vengefully.

Because Buck's right hand, still underwater, was thrashing so wildly that it appeared it would be pulled out of its socket.

Suddenly Wilmington lost his balance and disappeared below the dirty water. The surface continued to roil and churn. After two unsuccessful tries, the dark-haired gunfighter was finally able to regain his footing and turn a triumphant smile toward his friend. When his right hand finally appeared it had a death grip on the lower jaw of a 15" long catfish.

"Damn." Larabee muttered competitively.

Based on the broad head, the thing must be a yellow cat; at least 16 pounds.

Buck's smile was contagious and the other man caught himself returning it as he finally began to wade that direction.

The man had a talent for finding a fish. Grappling fish or women, it was rare for him to be outdone. And Chris had tried, he admitted begrudgingly, with the fish and, in the distant history they shared, even the women. T

he memories made the gunman's smile widen. Chris noticed the blood that ran down Buck's wrist as he tried to hold the flailing yellow cat. He took some satisfaction that he would get to watch Nathan lay into the lady's man over the most recent injury.

Unexpectedly the fish jackknifed out of the water and back in. There was no leverage in the quicksand-like river bottom and, refusing to let go of his catch, Buck fell backwards away from the relatively calm and sun-warmed waters by the bank and into the icy white water rapids fed by the spring thaw.

The current had Wilmington several yards past Larabee before he could react and dive in after him.

Chris had caught up to his old friend by the time they were swept past the part of the river where their other friends were practicing a more conventional and subdued form of fishing.

Both focused on keeping the fish and somehow working their way to shore, they were completely oblivious to the looks they were getting or the fact that they were about to drown each other.

Arms, legs and fins, in a tangled mass washed past. A butt was as likely to be turned toward the sun as a face. Neither man would let go of the fish.

"Damn it, Buck!"

"I got it! I got it!"

"Grab that... okay, now, grab that... get the damn limb!"

The shouts were often cut short by a mouthful of water. JD watched the show float by not knowing what to think.

Nathan started a slow boil over the fact that a barely healing Buck was tumbling along in the ice cold water. And what was Chris thinking? Not letting go of that... was that a fish? What a beauty!

Josiah laughed out loud. The two were acting like kids and having a hell of a time.

Ezra, smiling, whispered something to Vin who smirked, an amused glint in his eye.

Chris slammed into another outcropping of rocks near the middle of the river. He braced against the boulders and Buck bounced off of him there. He kept Buck from being swept past solely by the fact that both now had a death grip on the catfish's lower jaw.

Buck couldn't support any other hold because of his broken left hand. The others clustered at the shore trying to decide how to help.

"I got it!" Larabee called.

"You got it?" Buck questioned.

"I got it!"

"You sure?!"

"Wilmington!"

They sounded like they might rather drown each other than make it to shore. Ezra shook his head. He had finally come to realize that, no, those two men couldn't be civil to each other in words. But there was an affection and trust there that went beyond words and fascinated the loner gambler.

Buck demonstrated that trust now when he let go of his prize catch, entrusted it to the other man, and grasped the rocks. His hold wouldn't last long. The force of the current would tear his grip free.

Chris used much of his remaining strength to hurl the large fish to shore. Josiah grabbed it before it could work its way back into the water.

Free of their prize, Chris and Buck released the rocks and gradually helped each other maneuver toward shore; cussing and discussing in no uncertain terms their opinions of each others skills ranging from fishing to swimming to surviving once they got their hands on each other on shore.

The others helped them once they reached the shallows and dragged them to dry land. There they lie panting for breath and slowly recovering their strength.

"What the hell was that, Larabee?" Nathan vented.

"Supper." He deadpanned between gasping breaths.

"Do you know how close you two were to drowning?"

He was interrupted by Buck's indignant acknowledgment of the fact that he had just watched Vin hand a silver dollar to Ezra. "If you boys're bettin' on whether we'd drown each other, I want a part of that."

"Not at all, Mr. Wilmington. We have long since given up being amazed at the resourcefulness when our fearless leader and yourself are involved. We simply placed a small wager on whether Mr. Jackson would yell at you or Mr. Larabee first."

"Oh. Okay, then." He closed his eyes as if he planned on taking a nap right there, wet, cold and shivering.

"Very funny. Get your sorry asses back toward camp and a fire before you catch your death."

Larabee found Vin in front of him offering a hand up and took it. They exchanged amused smiles. That had been fun. Despite the freezing waters.

Tanner was glad to see this side of his friend slowly re-emerging.

"Nice fish." Josiah boomed as he held it up for inspection. Larabee transferred the smile to Josiah.

Buck threw a cold, dripping arm around both JD and Ezra to their mock protests. They led the way up stream toward camp.

Nathan, knowing better than to try any doctoring yet, nevertheless was eyeballing the way Chris stretched his back. Must be bruised from hitting those rocks. He had intentionally taken the brunt of that impact knowing Buck's hand and ribs were still healing from the POW camp, not to mention the tender skin trying to survive the sunburn.

Buck was moving gingerly. He was protecting his bandaged hand. What was left of the bandage was filthy and ragged.

Both men had bloody right hands where the hundreds of needle sharp, rasp-like teeth of that bottom jaw had bit into their skin. Oh, well, it was nothing that wouldn't mend. And watching the hi-jinks of these two was worth the extra time he'd have to put into their healing. But damn, were they a handful.

Vin and Chris brought up the rear. Larabee was already reverting to his stoic self. Vin, however, was still smiling. Larabee had said, with Buck and Ezra in that POW camp, that he had been forced to examine the consequences of many of his actions - pushing friends away, riding off to avoid attachments.

All of the demons had by no means been exorcised, but these glimpses of the old Larabee, the one Buck fought for, showed the healing process had taken a giant step. And seeing Buck extend their level of friendship to include others had the somber gunfighter evaluating what he could lose or what he could gain.

And when JD had been willing to call out that one outlaw in a quick draw contest? That may have been a wake-up call.

Vin walked beside his friend in the companionable silence he was used to. He just wished that Chris coming to terms with some of his ghosts hadn't been at the expense of Ezra and Buck now being forced to come to terms with their own that they thought had been laid to rest or hadn't realize existed. They all three had their good days and bad. If they would remember they had the others to see them through, they would all be better off in the end.

Tanner scooped up tsome green cattails he intended to roast like ears of corn.

Nathan had a bag of wild onions, early spring dill and wild cilantro. They would use the peppers from pincushion cactus to season the beans and munched on jicama root.

He knew Josiah planned on showing JD how, if you rubbed the silvery membrane from the inside of the yellow cat you could get rid of the fishy taste. They rarely had this much time to put into a trail meal. Even Ezra was going to have to admit the meal was exceptionally tasty and filling. It was good to relax. And be here together.

Vin cast a quick glance at his best friend and then at Buck and the others.

The spirit of a hero protects everyone in sight
The protective aura beckons all
Like moths to a candle's light.
Don't dare too close or the spirit to tame.
Only he that could truly touch the fire,
Would be another flame.

THE END