More than Gold - section 2

PART 13:

JD wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He was ready to bring a canteen to Buck and Ezra when he heard Bishop talking to them.

"Get him up."

"No."

"I said, ‘get him up’."

"He can't go any further."

"Then he'll die." Bishop declared. "You want me to call Otto over?  Or should I kill him myself?"

A pause. "I'll do it," Wilmington replied. "I'll be the one who does it."

JD leapt to his feet, forgetting the canteens and the outlaws. He was only able to run three steps closer to Buck and Ezra before Devon slammed him to the ground. "Enough of that, sonny!" Devon barked.

"Buck?" JD shouted in disbelief. "What're you sayin'?"

Buck didn't even look toward JD; he kept his eyes on Bishop and his arm wrapped around Ezra. "I'll be the one that fires the gun."

Bishop smiled and looked to Otto who stood with his mouth open.

Buck continued, "I'll do it quick. It'll be painless." Ezra hadn't lifted his head from his chest. Buck could hear his labored breathing.  What the hell am I doing? Wilmington thought.

"No, Buck! NO!" JD struggled to get out from under Devon, but the redhead had him trapped, a knee in his back.

"Keep still, pup, or you'll be next!" Devon growled.

"You 'spect us to give you a gun?" Otto asked incredulously.

"One bullet," Buck said evenly.

Otto spat into the dust. "We ain't that stupid."

"You can keep your guns on me while I do it."  Buck turned to JD, not really looking at him. "Keep a bead on JD. I won't shoot no one but..." He kept a tight grip on the man who leaned against him. "Won't shoot at no one but Ezra."

Bishop laughed. He bent over, resting his hands on his knees, and laughed a deep hearty guffaw.  He brayed as JD continued to struggle under Devon's knee.

"No!" Dunne shouted. "Don't do it, Buck! If you're tired, I can help him. I can do it. Please, Buck! Let me walk with 'im. I'll do it! Let me!"

"One bullet," Buck repeated.  "Give me one bullet."

"No...no...no," JD moaned. He pounded on the ground, frustrated at his inability to dislodge Devon. "Please, Buck... We can carry him, the both of us. I'll carry him myself. Please, Buck...I can.  I will!"

"I'll do the shooting," Buck said again, glaring at Bishop.

Bishop shook his head in amusement. "Sure, lawman," he laughed. "I'll letcha kill your friend, if that's what you want."

"But you said..." Otto started. "You said I could do it!"

Bishop shrugged. "Changed my mind. I'd rather see his buddy do the deed. It'd make it more... interesting."  Besides, Bishop thought, Larabee won't have an issue with us if we're not the ones who murdered his man.  He smiled.

Otto kicked at the dust. "But you said..."

Bishop gave Otto a tired look and then grinned at Wilmington. "What will it feel like to shoot your friend, huh?  Bet it burns in your gut.  Bet it eats at you like acid.  Bet it tears."

"No...no..." JD continued to chant as he watched the proceedings.

Ezra finally raised his head. His eyes fixed on Bishop's gun, and said, "I will not be executed by ...such a crude weapon."

Bishop smirked. "It's what got you your first hole. I 'spect it can finish you."

"I purchased my sidearms ... at great expense. They've been treated with ... the utmost care..." Ezra sucked in a breath and continued. "If I'm to be executed... I wish it to be done ...on my terms."

"Won't make a difference," Otto said, intrigued now by what was going on. "Dead is dead." He smiled as he looked at Buck and then pulled Ezra's Remington from his own holster and emptied it. "I 'spect it wouldn't make no difference to me. Might be fun." He shook his head.  "Looks like you're gettin' your weapon back, Reb. Or, at least a piece of it."

Ezra shuddered as Buck clutched at him, keeping him upright. "At least..." Standish started and paused again, as if mere words were too much for him.  "At least, allow me the final request ...of using only the …best bullet available."

Otto laughed this time. "Best bullet available? You gotta be kidding."

"I've just purchased...such items. Imported from Germany...the best ammunition made..."

Bishop held his gun loosely, listening. "German, huh?"

Ezra nodded toward his horse. "A doeskin pouch …in the left-hand bag. They cost me a packet...for certain. Dollar apiece.  I'm told... they're worth the expense."

"Get 'em, Otto," Bishop said, smiling mildly. "I want to see what these dollar-apiece bullets look like."

Otto approached Chaucer with trepidation. The horse glared at him, thunderstorms flashing in those brown orbs. The chestnut shifted back and forth, as if finding a perfect stance to commence an attack as the man came into range.

"Behave, Chaucer," Ezra said quietly. The horse glanced at his owner, ears twitching, and then he lowered his head in resignation. Otto quickly snagged the saddlebag off of the horse and back-stepped away, aware of the threat still evident in those eyes. The order might have stilled the animal’s actions, but it hadn’t taken away the hatred.

Otto rooted through the receptacle until he found the soft leather pouch, and then opened it up to gaze at the items within. He pulled one out and held it between his fingers. "What's so special about these?" he asked. "There's a funny mark here..."

"A hallmark...mark of distinction."

"Feels kinda light."

Ezra chuckled softly. "Made by ... skilled craftsmen. A little gunpowder...goes a long way."

Bishop stepped up to Otto and snagged the charge from him. He stared at it for a moment, running his finger over it, noting the blunt tip. "So this is what a dollar buys? Waste of money if you ask me," he muttered. He held out his hand for the Remington, and Otto handed it over.

"I get it back when he’s done!" the blond said petulantly.

"Sure, Otto," Bishop soothed as he fitted one bullet into the chamber.

JD watched in horrid fascination. "NO!" he cried as Bishop snapped the cylinder shut and twisted it the right chamber. "You can't do this! No! You can't!" His rocked his weight back and forth until Devon cuffed him savagely across the back of the head.

"Quiet down!" Devon ordered.

Bishop smiled and nodded to Otto. The blond pocketed the pouch and unholstered his own gun and pointed it at JD's head. "You be good, ya little snot," Otto said. "We'd rather keep two hostages until we make it to Hunter's Cavern, but I 'spect we could make it with just one."

Dunne stared wide-eyed at him, and then turned his gaze back to Ezra and Buck. The gambler was looking at him disinterestedly.  "Please..." JD moaned. "Please, Buck... No..."

He watched as Buck pulled Ezra to his feet. Ezra staggered and Buck caught his weight, giving him a moment to find his balance.  Then, Buck dragged Standish into the shade of the trees, beside the little pond. There, Buck carefully helped Ezra to sit down, to lean his back against the trunk nearest the water. He squatted for a minute beside the southerner and neither said a word. Ezra just smiled back at Buck and nodded. Wilmington, for his part, could coax no smile to his face.

Buck walked back toward Bishop, dragging the rope that was still attached to his wrist, pulling it as if he dragged the weight of the world.

Ezra's eyes followed the trailing line, then he held up his tied hands. "I wish to meet my maker... unbound."

Devon snorted and Otto shook his head, saying, "Pushy little Reb, ain't cha?"

"Cut him loose," Bishop said. "Won't matter a fig in a minute."  Besides, he thought, Larabee might appreciate that fact when he finds the body.

Otto pulled the knife from his belt and roughly grabbed Ezra's offered hands to cut through the bindings. Ezra had to move his hands quickly to avoid being sliced, still the knife caught his skin, making him bleed a little.

Otto grinned, still grasping the knife. "I could gut him," he said, turning back to Bishop.

"Knock it off, Otto." Bishop was weary of the blond. "We gotta get goin'."

Otto squatted down beside Ezra and held the knife to his throat. "It'd be like skinnin' a rabbit," he said. Ezra stiffened under the blade. “Would be payback for some of the pain your kind caused us in the War.”

JD was still crying out monotonously, "No, no, no." -- a background noise like the whir of cicadas or the babbling of a brook.

Buck opened his mouth to speak, but Devon beat him to it. "Hell, Otto, you'll get all messed up with his blood and all. You don't want that. Let his buddy here do it. That's what I'm waitin' for."  Devon leaned forward on JD in anticipation.

Bishop shrugged. Apparently, whether the man was disemboweled or shot didn't matter to him. He waited until Otto finally moved away from Standish, and then he handed the gun to Wilmington. "One bullet. You aim it anywhere else but at that bastard Reb...and I kill the Reb and the kid. May have to put a hole in you, too."

Buck nodded sharply, taking the weapon from the outlaw.

"Please, Buck..." JD cried softly. "I'll carry 'im. Please... let me, Buck...I'll do it. Let me try. I can get him there.  Even if it's hard, I can do it." A sob caught his voice. "Don't do it, Buck! Don't do it! Please...it's Ezra.  It's Ezra, Buck!"

Buck didn't hear him, didn't hear anything as he raised the gun. He sighted down the barrel, aiming it at Ezra's chest. Ezra met his eyes and again smiled reassuringly. And then, perhaps realizing that the smile only hurt the shooter, he looked away.

Wilmington remembered a similar scene that played out in a dirty town between himself and Chris.  As he aimed, he recalled that it was Chris who pulled the trigger during that Purgatory charade. It’s the same thing, he told himself. No difference.  I was fine.  Lost my boots, but I got ‘em back.

Gotta get him out of the sun, Buck thought, trying to work up the nerve to pull the trigger, as he gazed at his pale friend. Get him off his feet. Let him rest. He won't make it if we keep draggin' him along. He's half-gone now. It's just a blank. Gotta do this now, while he's still got some strength to take care of himself. He'll be better off if we leave him...alone.

Nathan and the others are coming. They must be coming. Oh, God, what am I doing? He’s so goddamn weak.  He can’t survive here alone.  How can I leave him here to die alone?  The gun trembled in his hand as he aimed it at Ezra, who kept his eyes averted. Buck fought the urge to lower it.  I can carry him for a while yet…

"No...no...no..." JD continued to moan, watching it all unfold.

…but if I drag him any further, he's as good as gone. Here – alone – he stands a chance.  Buck pressed his lips tightly together, trying not to think, trying not to imagine anything beyond the fact that he was doing what he could to save his friend.

Buck didn't even hear the report of the gun, didn't feel the weapon kick. He saw Ezra jerk backward onto the trunk and then fall forward in a heap. Bishop wrenched the gun from his hand and Buck stood, stock-still, as Otto sprang forward to investigate.

The man in Union Blue pulled Standish upright for moment, grinning at the sight of the bloody chest, and then he let the body fall forward. Buck did nothing. He couldn't move... he couldn't hear.

Bishop shoved him, his mouth split by a wide grin and laughing soundlessly. Otto walked back toward them, grinning and flapping his gums. Devon was still holding down JD, smirking. Silence.  It all seemed so unreal... so unbalanced and strange. He couldn't catch his breath. Buck turned to JD, who lay with his head down, hidden in his arms. The young sheriff heaved in soundless sobs as Devon continued to sneer and press him to the ground.

Ezra didn't move.  He had fallen forward beneath the tree, his face against the earth, one arm splayed out beside him. The entire scene had the appearance of some outlandish tableau. Buck remembered a presentation he had seen several years ago. It had been put on by a group of citizens in a fleabag town out in the middle of nowhere. They had illustrated scenes from the Bible, striking strange silent poses. He had thought it all a bit macabre at the time and had wanted to leave the little demonstration as soon as possible. He felt the same need to flee at this moment, amplified a thousand times. He wanted to be anywhere but here -- seeing this.

In a snap, nearly everyone was in motion. Bishop drew his weapon and leaped backward. Otto turned sharply, with a look of alarm, yelling. Devon jumped to his feet in panic and JD finally was out from under him. Only Buck and Ezra remained in their poses.

Sound returned to Buck with the furious scream of a horse. Chaucer had gone wild, bucking and slashing his feet, bellowing as if he'd been laid open. He was still tied to Clyde and the sorrel, and the two horses careened about on their short tethers, trying to get some distance from the enraged animal. The two other horses were all that kept the outlaws from meeting the vicious hooves of the quarter horse.

"Shoot it!" Devon was shouting, trying to get away from the darting animals, to avoid those thrashing hooves. "Kill the damn thing!"  Otto had drawn his own weapon and trying to aim at the moving target.

Buck watched in horror as JD ran toward the enraged horse. "No, JD..." he whispered, unable to raise his voice.

JD didn't stop. He ran right in amongst the bolting group, directly toward the berserk beast.  Hooves thrashed.  Teeth slashed.  JD reached into the midst of the chaos and grabbed onto Chaucer's reins. "Chaucer... Chaucer..." he called urgently.

The chestnut horse rolled his eyes and reared up again, his teeth exposed in an awful foamed grimace, hooves lifting.  He landed, then arched his back and bucked.  Clyde shied away, just barely getting clear of his herdmate’s hooves.

"Step away from it!" Otto shouted, raising his gun. "Damn it, I'm gonna shoot that thing before it kills us all."

"Please, Chaucer, please..." JD called urgently. "Behave, Chaucer... behave," he cooed, remembering the word Ezra had used. "Chaucer, behave." He tried to calm the animal, running his hands along the creature's neck, stepping quickly to avoid getting trodden. He had to trust that the horse wouldn't hurt him -- Ezra trusted this horse -- he could, too. Ezra!  JD gasped, trying not to think of the gambler and what had befallen him. "Please, don't let them shoot you, too... not you, too. Oh God, Chaucer, they can't take you, too."

"Get out of there!" Otto ordered, as JD continued to run his hands along Chaucer's neck. Otto tried to draw a bead on the horse, but Chaucer wouldn't stop moving. The other two horses and the kid kept getting in the way.

"It's okay," JD murmured.  The horse gazed at the young man, his eyes wide and white. "It's gonna be okay," JD repeated as he worked to quiet the angry animal. "Please, Chaucer," the young man begged. "I'll take care of you.  It'll be okay."

The horse finally stopped its rage-filled actions and came to a standstill, letting JD grasp hold of his bridle and bring his head down. He stroked the horse's big head, talking softly, soothingly, "Shush now.  Shhhh."  Chaucer trembled, and jerked his head around as if he didn't know what to do. He tried to yank away from the kid, but JD held him firmly.  "Please be good," JD begged frantically. The young sheriff petted him slowly and whispered, “I'm gonna miss him, too.”  Suddenly, the horse snorted, dropping his head over Dunne's shoulder. JD wrapped his arms around the horse's neck and wept openly as Chaucer gave a mournful little whiney.

Buck could only watch as JD and Chaucer comforted each other. He stood helplessly, a silent observer.

Bishop shook his head. "That horse better be worth more than a dollar."  He spat and said, "We'd better get goin'. It'll be faster now that we got rid of that dead weight."

"Come on, kid," Otto ordered, stepping forward to grab Dunne out from under Chaucer's head. The horse snapped malevolently at the man, catching the cuff of his jacket. It was only JD's quick intervention that saved the horse again from Otto's gun. Dunne calmed Chaucer and then stepped away and allowed his hands to be tied once more. The horse followed the young man with his eyes, and then dropped his head in utter resignation.

Devon collected the canteens. Bishop soon had Buck's rope secured to his saddle, and the small group was moving again. Buck glanced back at the tree, where Ezra lay. Damn, Buck thought. Ezra had better be all right. As weak as he is, we're just leaving him...alone. It's better than making him walk any further, though. It's better! Chris and the others are coming. It won't be long. He's still strong enough to take care of himself for a while.

Yet, that crumpled form beneath the tree looked so damn lifeless! How could Ezra be left behind like that? God, I can't let him die all alone.  But what other choice was there?

Buck tried to catch JD's eye, wanting to say something, wishing he could get close enough to explain it all, but JD wouldn't look at him. The young man's eyes were set far ahead, staring into the empty distance as they continued their journey toward Hunter's Cavern, walking again through the empty country.

They climbed a low hill and Devon's horse jerked to a stop before they lost sight of the oasis.  Otto and Bishop glanced at Devon who was looking over his shoulder. "Come on now," the redhead said angrily, jerking on Chaucer's taut reins.

The chestnut whinnied once, his head held forward by the reins, but his eyes rotated back toward the form that was still visible.  Buck looked back as well, but JD never changed his gaze. Ezra lay as he had fallen, in the shade of the tree, beside the little pond - as still as the rocks that surrounded it.

"Behave, Chaucer," the Dunne said, his voice flat, his eyes fixed, and soon they were all pulled forward and away from the scene.


PART 14:

Ezra remained perfectly still. When Otto raised him up, he forced himself not to breathe, to make no sound. When he was dropped again, he used every ounce of willpower to not groan at the pain.

He listened and pondered, trying to keep his breathing quiet. He had been shocked by JD's reaction to the little scheme -- nearly terrified by it. He never expected it. Lord, JD might've been killed! What in the world had he done to deserve that sort of defense from the young man?

And then Chaucer was nearly shot! He thanked God for JD. What would he have done if his horse were killed? Chaucer was too fine an animal to meet his end for such a ridiculous reason.

He waited as the canteens were retrieved and the men tied up his friends again.  Then they were led away. He waited... listening... waiting. He heard Chaucer's final mournful cry and then silence. He waited and then waited longer. He waited until they were long gone before he slowly raised his head to look about and see that he was completely alone.

With a sigh, Ezra moved one arm beneath him and maneuvered into a more comfortable position, groaning as he moved his hurt shoulder.

Water. He looked at the jewel-perfect pond and smiled. With some effort, he leaned over, dipped his hand into the water, and raised it to his lips. He paced himself, not giving in to his thirst. No, he knew better than that. He couldn't remember drinking a finer liquid in his life -- with more nuances than the costliest cognac, a more delicate bouquet than the most revered wines of France. He washed his face, feeling the delicious chill of the water. Funny, he thought, the water felt as if it had been drawn from a deep well, so cold against his skin. It should be warm, shouldn't it? The spring was shallow and the day was hot.

He did his best to clean his shoulder. The wound was red and inflamed, painful to the touch, and there was little he could do besides wash away the blood that coated his side. Ezra sat back and slowly, patiently, worked with one hand to put the torn bandage back in place. He had pulled it back as part of the charade, exposing the bloody underside of the cloth. The bandage wasn't going to work very well anymore, but at least it was something. He wished he had some fresh cloth, but he had to settle for what was available. At least it might keep the dirt and the flies out.  He shuddered at that thought.  Damn flies.

It was so perfectly still here, as if the whole world had come to a halt around him. His head pounded, his wound throbbed, and he felt so damn hot. He knew he had a fever, but at least he had stopped moving, wasn't dragging Buck down any longer. Now that he was no longer a burden, Buck and JD might have a chance to survive this, and he was determined to do what he could to ensure that they did.

He knew that Buck and JD wouldn't have left him behind during an escape, no matter how he tried to force the issue. They were far too noble – noble to the point of stupidity.  No, they wouldn’t be crafty enough to simply leave him and make a run for it.  They lacked certain necessary self-preservation skills. It would be different, he told himself, if their positions were reversed.

He leaned beside the pond again, drinking in more water, hoping that he didn't get sick on it. Once his thirst was momentarily satisfied, he sat back again and felt in his pocket, drawing out a slim volume of verse. He located a lead pencil in his waistcoat pocket, and opened the book.

"Mr. Larabee," he wrote on the flyleaf. "It is of utmost importance..." He blinked and strained to form the letters. "...that you reach our compatriots, Mr. Dunne and Mr. Wilmington..." the damn words came so slowly. He ran his hand along his hot forehead. The cooling water had done nothing to quench that fire. He lowered his hand and stared at it a moment -- watching it tremble. He'd have to go faster. "...as they are in grave danger." This would never do. He decided to choose brevity to increase his odds of finishing the note before his strength gave out.

"Taken hostage by 3 men.  Gone to Hunter's Cavern.  Well armed. 3 more men at destination. Will kill JD and Buck when no longer needed. Hurry." He leaned his head back against the tree, surprised that this small task had tired him so. He breathed slowly, trying to regain some strength, and then gazed back at the paper. The handwriting surprised him for it didn't look like his own. He reread what he had inscribed and then added, "Please. They need your help." Well, that was obvious, wasn't it?

Damn, this was difficult. He paused again, trying to find the energy to continue the note -- just a few more words. He closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the world seemed strangely unfocused. He gazed down at the page and was unable to make heads or tails of it any longer; it was all a blur. Well, it was pointless to continue.  He moved the pencil to the page again and initialed the letter before he let the book drop from his hand, and he fell onto his side.

He grunted in pain as he made contact with the ground, and then rolled over slowly onto his back. The pencil skittered away into the pond, as Standish felt about for the book. He found the slim volume after a few moments of weakly searching about. Clasping it to his chest, Ezra finally allowed himself to relax.

He knew that Larabee was coming...and Vin... Nathan and Josiah too. They'd be coming…they must.  If they weren't, then Buck and JD would be lost.

They would find him, find this note in time to save the others. Funny, he thought, he should have addressed the letter to 'whom it may concern' in the event someone else discovered him first. Why did he assume that Larabee would come? Hell, the man  probably assumes that I took the box and that's why nobody showed up in town. He probably figures that JD and Buck are chasing me through canyons, arroyos, hog-backs and gorges -- that we're having shootouts in ghost towns and abandoned mining villages --that they are stalking me around dry-rotted saloons and fallen-down boarding house -- and laying in wait in quiet little forgotten homesteads.

Ezra blinked at the trees above him, so out of focus that they appeared to be only splotches of green and brown against the backdrop of the blue sky. There were so many other things that he wanted to write down. Perhaps if he just rested a bit, he'd find the strength to go back and finish the letter. Now where was the blasted pencil?

He wanted to thank them all -- Larabee, in particular, for giving him a second chance. Nobody had ever given him that opportunity before, and then he had squandered it when he tried to run out on them again during the Governor's rally. He wondered if Larabee would ever forgive him for that.

And Nathan, for his caring nature and for putting up with him, even after those comments he had made at their first meeting, in spite of all the animosity that came from their different perspectives, and due to his accent. He sighed, realizing that he had lived up to every bad expectation that the healer had of him.

He wanted to thank Josiah for his wisdom and for trying to put him on the straight and narrow path. No one had ever tried to do that before. Why Sanchez even bothered was beyond Ezra's ability to rationalize. He recalled their conversation in the church, and how he had once again failed the preacher. Sanchez had given him a choice and he'd chosen wrongly.

And JD, for his endless energy, his outstanding character, and for saving Chaucer from Otto's gun. Lord, what an incredible man Mr. Dunne was becoming. No, that was wrong -- what an incredible man JD always was. Ezra wished he had half the qualities of that young sheriff.

He wanted to show his gratitude to Buck for helping him walk all day long.   I must have been an incredible burden to him, he thought. I hope he forgives me for any undue pains I caused him. He wanted to thank him for always being a friend. There are few men in this world as open-minded and amiable as Mr. Wilmington. Thank God I was able to make his acquaintance.

And Vin, for understanding him better than anyone else ever had before. Vin, for liking him in spite of that knowledge.

So little time, Ezra thought with a sigh as the blue of the sky gave itself up to large white blotches. He turned his head and gazed out over the pond, seeing little more than the sparkle of sunlight off the surface. He smiled, glad that he was near water. He'd always loved the water.

At least, he thought, at least I may be able to help Buck and JD, even a little. If I can only do that...my friends... my friends would be safe.

Friends, he turned the term over in his head.  Up until a short time ago, he believed he had six friends, six true friends, but recent events had challenged that. The money!  The damn Stutz money!  Why had he taken it?  Why had he given in?  Too damned weak-minded.  Too damned materialistic.  Too damned self-centered.

And now there was this box of railroad stock that Larabee had neglected to inform them fully about.  Why?  Because the gunslinger was smart enough to realize that one Ezra P. Standish would take it.  But, Ezra realized smugly, if he had only taken it, none of this would have happened. If the conductor had given the box to him instead of Buck, he wouldn't be hurt now and the others would be safe. Certainly, he would have inspected the package, peeked within to see what was so important about that shipment. He would have discovered its worth.

He would have taken it, wouldn't he?  Well, that had already been proven as fact.  A shudder struck him as he remembered the lack of trust the others had shown him when it came to money.  He recalled the callous words that Jackson had used, JD's silent agreement and Josiah's fiery insinuations.  Ezra Standish was not to be trusted…never to be trusted…not even by his ‘friends.’

If he'd been able to get his hands on that box, he could have sent Buck and JD on some errand in Ridge City, could have distracted them as he slipped out of town with that box.  Ezra knew how to hide his trail well enough; he had escaped from towns more often then he cared to mention. Certainly he could have dodged Buck and JD... disappeared into the desert. He'd head out into nothingness at first, following no set trail, and then he would have wended around toward some unspecified small town; disguise his appearance enough so that his regular description wouldn't match him. It would have required a less then reputable set of clothing -- a little dust and dirt -- stubble on the chin -- a change of habits. He could have stocked up on supplies and be off again.

He'd spend a week (at least) on the trail, meandering his way at first, picking up supplies when needed, resting his horse. Make his way toward some larger town and find a reputable dealer (actually, disreputable may be the better word)... sell off some of the stocks (not too much mind you, not enough to raise suspicion). Line his pockets nicely and then disappear again. Rich...he'd be rich.

After a month or so of such travel, he might reward himself with a night in a fine hotel (not the finest -- that would be too obvious), a sumptuous dinner, new clothing, a night on the town. And then he'd have to get moving again. Larabee would be looking for him, and Ezra was too wise to allow himself to be caught.

Yes, he'd stay on the move. He'd put down no roots, make no attachments to anyone or anything. It would be just him and Chaucer -- living the high life with all that money, more money than he had possibly hoped to possess -- constantly on the run.  He'd be careful with it, of course, selling off only small amounts at a time, not allowing anyone to know he had so much -- a night or two of opulence and then back to the trail again.

Of course... there was always Vin to consider...yes, Mr. Tanner with his superior tracking skills. Ezra would use all the tricks he knew, but eventually he might slip up... eventually Mr. Tanner might be able to guess his next move and ... perhaps... eventually...he might be caught.

He'd be trapped by the six of them (they would stick together of course). Perhaps there'd be a shoot-out in a street... an ambush on a trail...maybe a bullet in the back at some dark saloon. No, not the back...Larabee wouldn't do that. Larabee would want to see his face when the deed was performed. Ezra tried to imagine the gunslinger's expression, but it was difficult to concentrate, and he couldn't quite picture the scene.

It would all end eventually, but what a ride!


PART 15:

Buck kept his gaze in JD’s direction as they continued their journey across the sun-scorched earth. It was much easier to walk now that he had been relieved of his charge. But, he wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as if he still carried a weight.

But Ezra was safe now... or at least safer that he had been before. They had left him in the shade, with a source of water... alone. Buck trudged onward, hoping that the gambler was all right. He was so sick, so weak. Buck's only hope was that Nathan, Josiah and everyone was already coming... that they had realized that there was reason for their delay. How long would that take?

When the positions of the horses allowed, Buck watched JD trudging onward, his gaze locked straight in front of him. "JD," he called, knowing that he'd receive punishment from their captors. "JD, look at me."

Dunne didn't turn, didn't seem to hear him. He continued to move -- eyes forward -- focusing into the distance.

"JD? Damn it, look at me!" If he just glanced at me, I might be able to give him a look that explained it all. Hell, how could that work? If he would just look at me... "JD!"

"Shut up!" Devon barked. "He don't like you no more."

The three outlaws laughed, and the procession continued. JD turned his head further away from Buck. He picked up his pace and disappeared from Buck's sight on the other side of Otto's horse.

"JD!" Buck called again.

Devon raised the butt of his pistol over Buck's head and glared menacingly at him. "Don't cha listen?"

Buck clamped his mouth shut. Shit, he wanted to talk to that kid, but it wasn't going to do any good to reveal anything here, and it certainly wouldn't help anything if he were unconscious.

Devon grinned and lowered his gun. "That's better," he said as he holstered the weapon. "Just keep yer yap shut."

They stopped for a short time and he was allowed to drink from a canteen. He hoped to see JD brought closer to him, but Dunne stayed on the far side of the group.  When the canteen passed from him to Dunne, JD refused to drink from it and was given a different one.  Otto laughed.

It would be dark soon. They were still a fair distance from Hunter's Cavern -- wouldn't make it before nightfall. Maybe they'd have a chance to escape in the darkness.  The stop was brief and soon they were moving again. Buck looked toward JD, not seeing him due to the obstructing horses. If he could only talk to JD, but why the hell would the kid even listen to him?

Buck vividly recalled the scene... shooting Ezra, his friend lurching and then falling forward... the blood...one arm outstretched...alone and hurt. I had to get him out of the sun, off his feet, let him rest a bit, he told himself. Nathan and the others are coming. Buck continued onward, hoping for the best, looking for an opportunity to get to JD and explain it, looking for a means of escape, to get back to Ezra.  Damn, wish we could'a stayed with him.

Don't let him die alone.


PART 16:

The sky was growing dark. Vin had hoped that they would have caught up to the others by now. They were moving a good deal faster than the outlaws, but they still hadn't found them. He hadn't been able to figure out exactly where they were headed, as the trail seemed to wander a bit. He figured that the outlaws probably got lost for a while. With nightfall, tracking the inconsistent trail would become decidedly more difficult.

Vin looked up, sighting a small stand of trees. "There's water up ahead."

"Give us a chance to fill our canteens," Nathan said with a nod.

"Good idea," Josiah agreed. "It could be some time before we find any more." He sighed and looked toward the low sun. "We may want to camp here."

"Nope," Chris responded quickly. "We'll just stop long enough to get some water and go on.  Long as Vin can find a trail, we'll stay on it."

The four men approached the little oasis, with the tracker in the lead. Vin watched the trail turn toward the source of water. He could tell that Ezra was having a lot of trouble, hardly able to walk. Why're they keepin' him on his feet  so long?  Cain't hardly keep his feet movin' by the looks of it.  Must be some real bastards that got 'em. He tightened his jaw as he continued after the footprints and hoof prints left behind by the others.

He lifted his gaze from the tracks as he drew near the water, looking for any further sign, and then sucked in his breath and kneed Peso into a gallop.

Something lay by the water's edge.

He could hear the others charging up behind him as he leaped down from his horse and fell beside the abandoned form at the little water hole. The gambler lay on his back, his face very pale, with bright spots of red on his cheeks; one hand was on his chest, covering a book, the other hand splayed out into the water beside him.  Ezra's breathing came in shallow gasps.

“Ezra,” Vin called softly, knowing that there’d be no response. "Ezra, we're here now."

Nathan appeared and crouched down beside Standish, and ran his careful hands over him. Josiah grabbed Jackson's medical bag off his horse. "He's burning up," Jackson muttered.  He moved Ezra's arm, tossing the book aside, to check the blood-soaked bandage.

"Get me a fire goin'!" Nathan ordered Chris. He turned to Josiah and issued the next command, "I need whiskey and bandages, now!" Both men complied immediately.

Not receiving a directive, Vin pulled Ezra's head into his lap. Ezra responded by twisting in his grip and groaning painfully. "Hey, pard," Vin said softly. "Vin's here. Don't fret none." He settled Ezra carefully and then leaned over to the pond to dip a bandana into the water. He soaked the piece of cloth and started wiping down Ezra's too-hot face. "Gotta cool down a bit, okay? Don't want cha to be so hot."

Ezra opened his eyes for a moment, but didn't seem able to focus as Vin looked down on him. He moved his lips and said something so faintly that Vin couldn't hear it.

"Could ya say that again?"

The tracker barely caught the softly voiced, "Sorry," before the green eyes closed again.

Tanner furrowed his brow, wondering what the hell Standish had to be sorry for.

"Get a pot out. I need water boiling," Nathan directed Chris, not knowing if the fire was even lit yet. Josiah crouched down beside them, holding the items Nathan had requested.

"Dear Lord," Josiah said softly, as Nathan pulled back the poorly applied bandage. The wound was an angry red and oozing. He laid his big hand on Ezra's leg in sympathy and raised his eyes to Nathan.  "Is the bullet still in there?"

Nathan shook his head.  "By the look of it, someone took a knife to it already.  Figure Buck took care of that for us."

Vin turned toward the direction the men had left. He knew that Buck and JD were still out there. Now that they had left their wounded member behind, they would probably be moving faster. Gotta catch 'em soon.

He looked to Ezra, who started to shift his head back and forth in his lap. "S'okay, Ez," Vin muttered, clasping his hand around Ezra's chin to keep him still. "Nate's gonna take care of you." He used his other hand to pick up the now-warm bandana from Ezra's brow and dip it again in the water.   He placed it carefully over Ezra's face again.  "You're gonna be okay.  We're here now.  Not alone no more. Yer not alone," He repeated and then noticed the book, in danger of falling into the pond.  Carefully, he picked it up, knowing that Ezra wouldn't want any damage to come to it.

He curiously flipped back the cover. "Chris?"

Larabee was busy tending the fire, frantically trying to get water to boil faster than was scientifically possible. "What?" he asked tersely.

"There's writing here and some bloody fingerprints, too."

Josiah was helping Nathan get ready to clean the wound, his face solemn and his eyes on Ezra's face. "People will inscribe things in books sometimes, Vin. Maybe someone gave it to him as a gift," he said patiently. "He was probably reading while he was waiting for someone to come and that's how the blood got there."  Sanchez sighed, imagining that lonely scene.

"But it's kinda funny." Vin squinted at the writing. "Writing don't look so good."

Josiah reached out his hand, and Vin handed the book to him. The preacher noted the initials at the bottom corner and the trailing lines, so unlike the con man's usual precise penmanship.   He grimaced and said, "Chris, it's addressed to you." Then he read the disjointed note aloud.

After Sanchez finished, Chris got to his feet. He looked to Standish and sighed. You crazy son-of-a-bitch, he thought.  How did you get them to leave you behind? Was it just so that you could get this note to me?  Damn it, he looked sick! They had just found Ezra and the last thing he wanted to do was to go, but he had to find JD and Buck, now that they knew where to look. "Nate, would you be okay if we left you here alone with Ezra for a while?"

Nathan didn't look up from his work. "Stay 'til I'm done. I gotta get this cleaned up once I get the water boilin'. It's gonna hurt like hell, so I'll need ya'all to hold him.  And I'm gonna need lots of firewood to make it through the night."

Josiah glanced toward their mounts who huddled near the water's edge. "Horses need to breathe a bit in any case or we won't get anywhere."

Chris responded with a nod and went off to search for the wood.

Vin watched Chris move off, and knew there was something that needed to be done. With a sigh, he moved carefully out from under Ezra's head. Standish moaned quietly. "S'okay, Ez," Vin said softly. "Won't be but a moment."

"Here, let me take your place, Vin," Josiah rumbled. "Won't be any trouble." He moved into Vin's position as the tracker stood. Tanner threw him a thankful smile, not wanting Ezra to feel alone anymore.

Sanchez easily maneuvered Ezra's head into his lap and he took up the task of trying to cool his fevered head, speaking softly and soothingly. "It's all right, son.  It's all right," he said as Ezra tossed. "You're gonna be okay now." Josiah felt a sorrowful weight on his heart, remembering the sharp words he had used on Ezra not so long ago. Standish had come to him, looking for help and guidance, painfully speaking from his heart.  Josiah had long waited for that day, wishing he could find a way to help the young man on the proper path.  But reality never matched the dream. He recalled the look on Ezra's face when he'd lashed out at the young man -- he'd looked stunned, hurt, betrayed.  Josiah realized that he'd taken the trust the gambler had offered, and dashed it to the earth.

"I'm sorry, Ezra," he muttered. "I had no business unleashing my demons on you."

Nathan looked up at his friend as he prepared the poultice, wondering what Josiah meant.

Chris stalked off into the growing darkness, looking for deadwood that would be suitable to keep the fire going. He struck out at a low limb in his frustration. Damn it!  How the hell did this happen?  He glanced up when he heard a quiet footfall near him and said, "I don't want to hear it."

Vin came out of the dusk and said, “Don't care.  You're gonna have ta listen. I left Ezra so's I could say it.”

Chris bent down to pull at a likely piece of wood. "I know what you're gonna say, Vin. And you should know I already feel like crap."

"Wish you'd told 'em what was in that box," Vin said, toeing at a root to see if it was loose. "They might 'ave figgured a way to protect themselves then, 'stead of gettin' blindsided by this shit."

"You're right, Vin. What more can I say?" Chris grunted as he broke a dead branch away from a nearly barren trunk. "I made a god-awful mistake on this one."

"Wish we had all gone together."

"Yeah. Hard to know that at the time, though. It made sense to keep it quiet."

"Shit, Chris, it made no sense a-tall! What the hell were you thinkin'?  How do you reckon on sendin' the three of them to get somethin' worth that much and not let 'em know what they got?"

"Less suspicious that way…"

"Damn test!  Why didn't you go with Ez?  Just you and him. Would 'ave been smarter.  You could 'ave kept tabs on 'im… see if he's failin' you at every turn. Why'd you have to risk Buck and JD, too? How do we know they ain't hurt as bad as Ez right now? How's it gonna figure in your test if they get killed?"

"It wasn't a test, Vin," Chris growled.

"The hell it wasn't!"

"Vin, what can I do to convince you?"

"Not a damn thing."

Chris sighed as he broke another branch from the tree. "I swear to you, Vin, it never crossed my mind when I sent 'em.  I just figured that the three of them would do a good job of it. Besides, Ezra had been kinda quiet lately. Figured he needed some time out of town. God, Vin, what right would I have of testin' people?  It isn't as if I'd pass any."

Vin met his eyes as Chris turned. The tracker studied the gunslinger cautiously for a long minute and came to a conclusion as he gazed into those fierce eyes. He was a keen observer of men and could spot a lie a mile away. What he saw in those blue-green eyes surprised him. "I reckon you're tellin' the truth," Tanner said and then smiled wryly.

Chris narrowed his gaze. "What're you smilin' about?"

Vin bent in to help Chris strip the dead tree.  "You do trust him, otherwise you never would 'ave sent him."

PART 17:

JD sat where he had been dumped, his knees drawn into his chest, his head down. He pressed his back against a tree, as the day grew dark around them. He had been tied to a low branch, but it was a rather pointless gesture, because he wasn't even trying to move. The horror of the day had quelled any desire to run.  They weren't far from Hunter's Cavern, but their captors were hungry and wanted to stop. After supper, they'd be on their way again.

Dunne played back that horrible moment in his head: Buck saying that he'd shoot Ezra and then hauling their friend over to that tree, raising the weapon, and gunning him down in cold blood. Oh God, Ezra being shot...dead. The outlaws laughing. Chaucer crying out as if he were being whipped. The horse was the only one who seemed to give a damn that Ezra was dead. Buck just stood there. JD pinched his eyes shut, wanting to keep the images from returning, but they kept playing out.

He shuddered. The air was growing cool, finally allowing the heat of the day to leave him, but he couldn't escape the misery that had fallen on him. How could Buck have done that? Why didn't Buck let him try for a while? I could 'ave kept Ezra walking. I could 'ave gotten him this far. I could’a taken care of him.  I wouldn't 'ave let that happen. I wouldn't 'ave shot my friend -- no way -- no how. He sniffled and dragged his bound arm under his nose. How could Buck have done that? Bastard!

People approached him, but JD kept his head down. He didn't care who the hell it was. It didn't matter if it were the outlaws or Buck; all four men were his enemies now. He heard someone being shoved to the ground beside him and then tied to the tree. Devon admonished him and this newcomer to be still, but JD didn't lift his head to see who it was.

He knew it was Buck; of course, it had to be Buck, but at that moment, JD didn't want to recognize the cowboy. Didn't want to look at him, didn't want to have to hear his excuses. He turned his head and listened to Devon walking away.

"JD," Buck said softly. "JD...Kid."

JD didn't respond. He screwed his eyes shut and wished he could do the same with his ears.

"I didn't kill 'im," Buck said urgently. "Didn't shoot 'im."

"Like Hell!" JD finally growled. "You don't think I can see? You don't think I got eyes in my head?" He finally turned to Buck. His intense gaze met Buck's for the first time since the incident happened. "You killed Ezra! Ezra! Our friend!"

"JD, listen.  It's not like that.  It's…"

"Don't you talk to me, Buck Wilmington!  You'd rather kill him than carry him.  Ya just didn't care enough to try, didja?  Didn't even try…" JD's voice broke off in a sob.  "I would'a."

"It was a blank, JD. A blank!" Buck hissed.

"Son of a bitch," JD rubbed fiercely at his tearing eyes. "I wouldn't 'ave killed a friend."

"I swear, JD. Listen to me!"

"Not anymore.  You're dead to me, ya hear?"

Buck's heart lurched at JD's words, but his understanding kept the harshly spoken comment from cutting deep. He leaned closer to the young man and repeated distinctly, "It was a blank! It was his idea! A blank!"

JD's head swiveled as he suddenly realized what Buck was saying. He blinked. "A blank?" he whispered back.

Buck nodded solemnly. "He couldn't walk any further. He figured he'd be better off at that pond. I left him close to that water, in the shade. I didn't kill Ezra, JD. I wouldn't have done that for anythin'."

JD looked in wonder at Buck. A minute ago, one of his friends had killed the other... and he would never be able to forgive Buck. Now, Ezra was alive due to Buck. JD opened his mouth, trying to form a question, trying to say something, but no words came.

"We had to leave him," Buck continued quietly. "Lord, I had to leave him there alone. He's all alone, JD."

"He's alive?" JD finally voiced.

"Yeah," Buck said, his face still sad. "He was when we left him. The others should be there soon."

JD uttered a small cry and leaned into Buck. With their hands bound, he was unable to give Buck a hug, but he certainly tried.  Buck leaned against the younger man. Both were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, and needed each other's support desperately at that point.

Bishop and the others looked up when they heard the sound and saw the angry young man against the tall shooter. Whether they were laughing or crying was indecipherable.


PART 18:

Vin continued after the five horses and two men on foot. He kept the pace brisk, quicker than the ones who went before, determined to catch up to them before they made it all the way to Hunter's Cavern. At least they knew where to go, so there was no need to search out a trail. Vin was thankful that Ezra was able to give them this information -- it would get them to their destination faster.  Damn, they'd better catch those bastards before those outlaws made it there.  At the cavern, the kidnappers have a stronghold and better odds -- six men against three. Vin preferred the even odds of three to three, and he preferred taking them in the open. He was determined to do exactly that.

There were questions and fears circling through his head, but he pushed them aside. At this moment he had to complete this task -- had to catch these men -- free JD and Buck. Catch those outlaws before Hunter's Cavern. He'd manage it. He'd get this thing done.

Chris followed the tracker, with a red rage building in him. Damn them, he thought, damn them for shootin' Ezra and then makin' him walk all that way. Damn them for keepin' Buck and JD. His heart leapt at the thought that those two would be killed at Hunter's Cavern -- his oldest friend, that earnest young man. No, he wouldn't let that happen. Damn them for bringing up these damn doubts.  He set his gaze on Vin's back, willing the tracker to hurry, to find these men before they went any further.  Find those bastards and make them pay for what they had done.

Josiah took up the tail end of the group. He prayed as he rode: prayed for JD and Buck -- that they were safe still; prayed for Vin -- that he would keep them on track in spite of the darkness; prayed for the three of them -- that they'd make it through this unscathed. He prayed for Nathan, left alone with Ezra, and for Ezra as well, so damn sick and pale.  Please, dear Lord, take care of that young man. Don't take him from us.

God help us all.

PART 19:

Nathan sat beside the gambler in the firelight, doing what he could to get the fever down.  He hadn't been able to get Ezra to drink anything yet; Standish gagged at every attempt. A powerful infection had settled into bullet wound. Now, Jackson just had to wait to see if Ezra managed to fight it off. Whether or not he had the strength was questionable.

Nathan sighed and looked up at the stars. He hoped that the others were all right. He was sorry that he couldn't be with them, to add his firepower to the rescue team, but he knew where he was needed most.

It was a lonely night, sitting by himself near a fire in the middle of nowhere, his only companion oblivious to his presence.  Nathan stood stiffly and walked a sort distance from the light of the fire and stared out in the dark, wondering how Josiah, Chris and Vin were doing. They'll be finding Buck and JD soon, he told himself, and everything will be just fine. Damn, they'd better be okay.

He stood for a long time in the blackness, growing cold as the night crept into his bones.  With a shudder, he turned and made his way back to the glow of the fire. He was startled to find Ezra moving his head back and forth, as if trying to shake off something.

Ezra moaned softly, "Couldn't help m'self."

“Ezra?” Nathan squatting down beside the injured man.

"S'my nature..." Ezra muttered in a heavy accent. "Ya should've known."

Nathan shook him gently. "Come on, now. Wake up. Gotta getcha t’drink somethin’."

"Can't be trusted..."

"Ezra!" Nathan shook him a little harder, and those green eyes suddenly opened and looked up at him in glazed and bloodshot wonder. "Good morning," Jackson said despite the night that surrounded them. He grinned, glad to see the gambler awake.

Ezra felt like hell. His shoulder smoldered in pain, and he felt too weak to move. Splotches still danced before his eyes, and he was hot...so damn hot. Everything felt so disconnected and wrong.  He'd been running, hadn't he?  Running from the others… the six… running with the detestable box.  A sense of panic shot through him as he recognized the blurred face above him. "Nathan?"

"Yeah, it's me. Who else you think would be here?"

Oh, God, they've caught up to me. Running out yet again… taking that box of stocks. Betraying them all.   How'd it happen so quickly? He could hardly remember spending the money. Certainly there should have been some joy in that to remember. Why did he just feel so damn tired and god-awful hurt instead? He tried to adjust his position, but stopped quickly at the pain that arced through him.

"Don't move, Ezra. You've been shot."

"Shot?" Ezra asked in amazement. Then it was true. They had gunned him down. Justice was served. "Who? Who shot me?"

"I figured you'd be the one to tell me that," Nathan returned with some concern.

Ezra paused, considering, and then asked quietly, "Was it Chris?"

"Chris?" Now there was more reason to be alarmed. "You know darn well it wasn't Chris."

"Thought it would be him," Ezra said hollowly. "Not Vin." No, not Vin...he'd be dead if Vin caught him in his sights. Besides, the thought that Vin would shoot him... Vin who understood him better than the rest... pained him to the core. Of course, if Vin understood him so well, it only stood to reason that he would be the one who did it.

It couldn't have been Buck…  But of course, Wilmington probably had shouldered the blame for his escape with the railroad stocks. That must have festered a bit...stinging the easy-going man.  Wilmington could be a bear if his ire was up.

JD? My Lord, if it were that fine young man…

"Josiah?"  he asked.  Could the big preacher have done the deed?  Ezra's mind went back to that moment of weakness in the church, when he actually sought guidance from Sanchez and was attacked for it.  Failed Josiah miserably in the end.  Never again would he seek such help.  "Did Josiah shoot me?"

"Damn it, Ezra. He wouldn't have shot you," Nathan said ardently, as he worked an arm under the southerner and sat him up. Ezra was still far too hot. If he could only get this fever down, then maybe Ezra would end this crazy talk. "They're your friends."

Ezra sighed. "Was it you?"

Nathan said nothing for a moment, noting the look in Ezra's pained and unfocused eyes. He picked up the cup of water that had been waiting beside him. Did Standish honestly believe I could shoot him? he thought. Yes, the green gaze replied, he did.

"No, Ezra. Listen to me. None of us shot you. We're your friends. We've been chasing you down, tryin' to catch up with you all this time." Why was he going on like this anyway?  He held the cup to the gambler’s lips.

"I know," Ezra replied as he took a sip. "Sorry."

Ezra let Nathan hold him up and help him drink. When he was released back to his simple bed. He said again, "Sorry."

"What are you sorry about, Ezra?"

"Betrayal.  For takin' it."

"Taking what?"

Ezra looked bewildered. "The box... the stocks... worth more than...more than..."

Nathan paused, resting his hands on his knees, his eyes wide with wonder. "You took that box?" he asked. "Is that what started all of this?"

Ezra nodded slightly. "Apologies..."

"You took it?" Nathan's voice was incredulous. He had always considered the possibility, but in his heart he had hoped that it wasn't true. The confirmation of his fear cut him like a sword.

"Sorry." Ezra looked ashamed. "Truly, I am.  Wish I could 'ave…" He tried to meet Nathan's eye, but found the healer looking away in disgust. "It was a mistake.   Typical…

A memory flashed through Standish. The image of Buck raising a gun at him, the shot. My God! Ezra looked back toward Nathan. "It was Buck," he said sadly, his voice heavy. "Buck shot me." He sighed then fell back into a troubled sleep.

Nathan shook his head sharply and sat back down beside the gambler.


PART 20:

Exhausted, Buck and JD leaned against each other as the slept. The group had stopped long enough to prepare a supper and rest the horses, and since it appeared that no supper would be provided for them, the captives took the opportunity to rest. Something woke Wilmington, the call of an owl in the night. He listened to it, waited for the quiet call to repeat. It did.

Wilmington elbowed JD, and the sheriff came awake blearily. "Get ready, kid," he said.

"What?" JD shook his head, too worn out to awaken with any ease.

"Things are about to get hoppin'." Wilmington glanced about the camp. Bishop, Otto and Devon were just getting ready to go.

The five horses all showed their weariness, but Chaucer looked the worst of the lot, his head was down and his tail hanging stiffly. The usually spirited horse looked beaten and forlorn as he stood among the others. He had lost that plaguing limp when they left that little pond, only to replace it with a trudging stride. Otto approached the chestnut with great caution, but the horse showed no flicker of movement; he just continued to stare off into nothingness, and when the blond outlaw tugged at his reins, he followed without balking and without raising his head.

Devon was packing up the cookware as Otto tied the two packhorses into position behind Buck's gray. Clyde nickered at his friend, but Chaucer gave no response.

Bishop looked toward his companions and said, "Time to get movin'. We should be there in about an hour or two."

Devon stepped toward the two bound men and crouched before them. "You should be thankin' us," he said to Buck. "We sure made things a lot easier on you by gettin' rid of that load." Otto laughed as he stood beside the horses. Devon continued, "I'll miss that Reb of yours, but it sure was fun watchin' that sack of shit die."

Buck, unable to hold back his temper any longer, lashed out with his foot, catching Devon in the chin.  Devon's head shot back as he lurched. He tried to catch his balance, failed, and slammed onto his back.

Otto drew his gun, aimed at Wilmington's head and, with a smile, pulled the trigger. The report filled the air.

Something flew at the short outlaw, knocking him to his side. Otto came up, grappling with a longhaired tracker. Devon jumped to his feet, only to be knocked down again by a large man with graying hair. Bishop stood abruptly, but a man in black calmly stepped before him.

"Damn it!" Bishop swore, reaching for his gun.

"I wouldn't try it," Chris said evenly as Bishop's began lifting the weapon clear of its holster.

"He's awful fast." Vin gazed over his mare's leg at Otto, who looked at him with wild eyes. Tanner glanced to Buck, terrified over what he might find. He had seen Otto fire -- didn't prevent it. He'd been stealing up on the campsite at the time, trying to stay as quiet as possible, and there hadn't even been time to draw his gun when things fell to pieces. He figured he'd find his friend dead beside that tree. He smiled broadly to see Wilmington shaking his head in disbelief and JD staring open-mouthed.

"Damn!" Buck said. "That was whisker close."

Otto, seeing the tracker distracted, lashed out at the rifle. His hand caught the barrel, knocking it from Vin's hands. The second the weapon took to the air, Otto was on his feet again.

"Son of a bitch!" Vin growled as he took off after the little outlaw.

"Now," Josiah said, as he leaned onto Devon, "that wasn't a smart thing to do. He's got Vin riled, and Vin's temper has been awful tried lately." Devon glared back at him. Pinned as he was, he was unable to reach his weapons and could only sigh in resignation. This was not going well.

Bishop raised his hands above his head as he regarded Larabee. He was a smart man; having heard of the gunslinger's speed, he felt no need to test him.

Vin ran into the blackness, easily catching up to the escapee. He jumped at him, wrapping his arms around him and driving him to the dirt. Otto came up armed with Ezra's confiscated Remington.

Tanner jumped back, releasing the man to reach for his mare's leg, and then damned himself, remembering he was unarmed. Otto struggled to his feet, ran a few paces, and then aimed vaguely at Vin. He smiled as he fired.

The shot missed.

Vin dove for cover, but found nothing large enough to hide him. Otto leveled the gun at Tanner and fired again.  The shot once again went wild, and Otto growled in anger, but he wasn't given another chance to misfire, as another shot, sharper and louder, sounded nearby.

Otto was still for a moment, a stupid, stunned expression on his face, the gun clasped loosely in his hand. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead. He looked as if he meant to take a step forward, but instead he collapsed to his knees and finally fell face-first onto the ground.

Vin got to his feet, shaking his head. "That man had the worst aim I ever did see," he said as Chris appeared beside him, gun still smoking in his hand. "Either that or he's got one piece-of-shit gun."

"I'm damn glad of that," Chris replied as he picked up the ill-fated weapon, recognizing it as Ezra's and not understanding how the well-cared-for weapon could have performed so poorly.

The two quickly returned to the company of Josiah and the others. The preacher had Bishop and Devon under close watch. Sanchez smiled to see both Chris and Vin return unharmed. "I think our brothers are anxious to be loose," he intoned.

Vin approached Buck with a smile. "It's good to see you in one piece, Bucklin," he said, cutting loose the ropes binding his hands.

"Ezra!" Buck said urgently, absently rubbing his sore wrist. "He's back at that water hole..."

"We found him, brother. He let us know where to find you," Josiah said with a nod. "He's with Nathan now."  Buck sighed in relief.

"Is he okay?" JD demanded as his ropes were cut away.

Vin grimaced. "Dunno. Didn't look too perty. We'll go back and find out."

"We still gotta get those fellas at Hunter's Cavern," Buck added reluctantly.  “Not gonna let any of these bastards go.”

"Three of 'em." Chris nodded. "Shouldn't take us too long to get there."

"Yeah," JD agreed.  "Those guys at the cavern won't even know what's comin'."

"We'll have a definite advantage," Josiah said, taking up a bandana and gagging Bishop, the closer of the two outlaws. "Just gotta keep these boys quiet as we go."

Chris held the Remington that he had removed from Otto, shaking his head in disbelief. He glanced first to Buck and then to Vin. "Thought I'd lost the two of you when that little shit fired. Either he's a piss-poor shot or you got a guardian angel lookin' over both of you." He spun the cylinder and then opened it, dropping the three remaining bullets into the palm of his hand.

"Maybe not an angel," JD said as he rubbed his sore wrists. "But we got someone lookin' out for us, that's for sure."

Chris scrutinized the bullets, weighing them in his hand. A smile formed across his face. "Raided Ezra's private stock?"

Buck stood with some difficulty, stiff from the long walk, and crossed the distance between the two of them.  He pulled one of the charges from Larabee's hand. "I'll have you know, this is the finest ammunition that money can buy -- skilled craftsmen and some-such crap."

"Imported from Germany," JD added. "Dollar a-piece, I hear."

Vin furrowed his brow and took another bullet from Larabee's hand. "Seems like blanks to me. I think you can buy 'em for a few pennies."

"Vin," Buck said, "these blanks are worth more than gold to me."

"Glad to have you back, Buck," Chris said with a nod. He looked up in time to see Buck draw back, but he didn't have time to defend himself as the fist came flying.  Larabee staggered backward from the force of the blow, looking at Buck in disbelief as the ladies' man blew at his knuckles.  Josiah and Vin both stood aside, and JD looked on smugly.

"What the hell?" Chris bellowed, feeling his sore nose.

"Next time, tell us what's in the damn box!" Buck exclaimed as he headed to the horses.

PART 21:

Nathan sat with his knees drawn up and his hands loosely folded over his knees.  He mulled over what Ezra had told him – that the gambler had betrayed them all by stealing the box of railroad stock. How could he?  How could Standish do this to them?  He’d thought that, after the incident with the Stutz money, Ezra had learned his lesson.

Can’t trust him, Nathan thought dully.  Damn it all. He glanced at the cardsharp who breathed shallowly beside him, his hair plastered to his head, pale and weak.  Damn, the healer thought.  I wanted to trust him, after all.

He lifted his head, hearing the sound of approaching horses.  Here comes something. Best get ready.  He stood, placing himself between Ezra and the approaching horsemen.

He stiffened as the shadowy images came into view and held his gun at the ready, praying that the approaching men were his friends. They had been gone a long time, and he had spent the last few hours worrying, afraid that something had happened to them.

"Nate!" he heard Buck call.

A smile broke out on his dark face. "Buck!" Jackson returned. "JD with you?"

The young sheriff called, "I'm here!"

Nate grinned at the mob that came toward him. There were ten men on horses, five easily identified as his friends, and five more who he didn't know. Chaucer came alongside JD, riderless.

"How's Ezra?" Buck asked as he jumped down from Clyde's back. "He doin' okay?"

"His fever's still mighty high," Nathan replied seriously. "He came around for a bit, but he's been out of it since then. If we can start him home, that would probably be for the best. Gotta get back so I can see to him proper."

The others nodded. "I reckon we can do that," Vin said. "We can get a few hours of sleep b’fore sunrise.  Rest the horses."

"What happened with you all?" Nathan asked.

"Oh," Josiah said philosophically. "There is always one who wants to go out in a blaze of glory."

"We caught up to the fellas who had Buck and JD. Ended up killin' one of theirs," Chris admitted.

Buck continued, "We left that son-of-a-bitch to the buzzards and flies. We got the rest of this bunch at Hunter's Cavern. At least they were smart enough to give up nice and easy." The five remaining men looked about sheepishly; apparently they had learned their lesson along the way and were keeping silent.  The redhead had a nasty looking bruise across his jaw where someone must have kicked him, and both he and the tall one were rather ruffled.

Nathan pointed to Chris' bruised face and was about to comment when Larabee said, "Had words with Wilmington." And the healer just nodded knowingly.

JD sat down beside Ezra. He watched as Ezra moved his head slowly and clenched his hands sporadically. He looked horrible, but he was alive. God, he didn't think he'd ever see the gambler again.  JD looked up to Buck who stood above him now. "It worked," JD said in amazement.

"Yeah, it sure did. I guess it was a good plan all in all," Buck agreed.

"Plan?" Nathan grimaced. "This have something to do with him stealin' that box of railroad stocks?"

JD and Buck looked at Nathan in disbelief. "Who said that he took it?" JD asked.

"He did," Nathan gestured to Ezra, who turned his head away in his sleep. "Said he took the box and was sorry for it." The healer turned to Buck and added, "Said you shot him because of it."

"Dang it!" Buck shouted, snatching the hat from his head and flinging it to the ground. "Gol-dang it!"

"It wasn't like that," JD responded. "Sure, Buck shot him..."

"You did shoot him?" Nathan asked, eyes wide as he turned to Buck.

Buck's heart clenched in horror as he sat down next to the unconscious man. "Now see here, Ezra!" he cried.  "Now you just listen here, ya stupid misinformed son-of-a-bitch! You know darn well what went on.  It was your damn idea! I don't want you believin' nothin' but the truth!" Don't let him die thinking that I killed him. Oh God, don't let him die.  "I used those blanks of yours, and you know it! Don't you go thinkin' I did this!" He touched Ezra chest lightly, and bowed his head when he felt how warm the man was.  "And don't you go thinkin' you took that damn box! Ya never touched the thing.  What's the matter with you?"

Ezra, for his part, just muttered something unintelligible.

"That's right," Buck said, patting Ezra softly. "You just get better real fast and we'll get this straightened out."

"He didn't take that box," JD supplied as he watched Buck with Ezra. "Dang it, Nathan, don't you know better than to listen to Ezra when he's not feelin' right?  He'll say pretty near anything."

Nathan bit his lip. "Why'd he go on about it then if it weren't true?"

"Nate, after all that went on with the Stutzs' money, I'm surprised he trusts himself at all anymore," Vin said with a sigh.  "Seems he never got a chance."

Nathan scuffed his feet and Josiah took on a dour expression. Even JD looked away and rubbed his forehead dolefully.

Vin continued, his voice even and without any condemnation, "Why do you believe him when he says the worst things, and can't bring yourself to believin' any of the good?"

The healer lowered his head.  "I dunno, Vin.  It's just…just…"

"…Easier that way," Chris completed. He met Vin's gaze before he continued. "I know. It's just easier to think the worst of Ezra. He does a mighty fine job of hidin' his better side."

"Figures there's no point in callin’ attention to it, I reckon." Vin responded. "No one would believe it anyway."

"I never have been a man who did things the easy way. 'Spect I shouldn't take that path here either." Chris sighed.  "I'll fix this."

Chris and Josiah had untied their captives from the horses and pulled them to the ground to secure them to the surrounding trees. The horses deserved a rest. There had been talk about making the men walk the whole distance, but the idea was given up so they could return to this little oasis as soon as possible.

Vin watched the forlorn chestnut with a keen eye, understanding. "Hey, Chauce, ya wanna see somethin'?"

Vin tugged the yielding animal behind him until they were beside Ezra. The gambler murmured something in his fevered sleep and tried to turn over, only to be held back by Buck and JD. The chestnut horse looked at the sight and suddenly pricked up his ears and tossed his head back in excitement. He nickered and snorted and muttered and chortled, rearing slightly, before Vin was able to pull him down.

"Easy now," the tracker said with a smile as the horse pranced about. The chestnut tugged the hat off his head and tossed it.

The others laughed, glad to see that some things were back to normal.

PaRT 22:

Russell Pilgrim waited impatiently in front of the jail, kicking a barrel and glaring out across the street. He’d been waiting for two days now – two long and unhappy days.  He clenched his hands slowly as he cursed his misfortune, wishing that he could put his hands around his long awaited prize.

His attention landed on a group of riders entering the town at a good pace. There was that cold-hearted gunslinger on his big black, leading a chestnut horse that was constantly turning his head to see the other riders. Behind them was that darkie healer, riding abreast with two men on one horse -- that swindler and the mustached cowboy.

Pilgrim quickly assessed the situation and came to his own conclusion.

"Where is it?" he demanded as he strode out to meet them. "Where's my inheritance?"

Larabee gave the man a disgusted look, tore open one of his saddlebags and flung the cedar box at him. "Get that goddamn thing out of my sight," he growled as he dismounted.

The healer was already on the ground, standing beside Wilmington's horse. Larabee joined him. "Take it easy, now," the healer said, reaching up as Wilmington lowered the unconscious man.

"He's not doin' too good," Wilmington said worriedly as he moved the con man off his horse. "Been breathin' real bad. Hotter than hell."

"We got 'im, Buck," Larabee said, taking hold of the gambler, letting his head rest listlessly on his shoulder.

Pilgrim glared at the unmoving gamester. He could see the bandage -- a gunshot, no doubt. The dandy was pale as a corpse. Well, the sharp got what he deserved. Shouldn't have tried stealing from a Pilgrim!

"Told you it would happen," Pilgrim said, disgusted. "Told you he'd take it." He gave the man no further attention as he opened the already rifled box and started to examine the contents. "It better all be here, or I'll have him hung." He was startled when the box flew from his grasp -- even more so when a fist slammed into his jaw.

The world unhinged for a moment.

Pilgrim found himself on the ground, his face in a mass of pain, stars dancing before his eyes, the precious stocks blowing about him on the street. He glanced up to see Wilmington towering over him, his eyes fierce, obviously itching for a fight.

"Buck," the healer said calmly, "We could use some help."

Wilmington turned, not saying another word to Pilgrim as he returned to help his friends. Wilmington and Larabee carried that worthless cardsharp toward the darkie’s place with the healer-man close behind.

Pilgrim sat in the street, dazed and dumfounded until he realized that his prize was escaping. He scuttled about, frantic to collect his inheritance before the wind claimed it all.

PART 23:

Vin, JD and Josiah arrived in town late in the day, leading the extra horses and their walking prisoners. The five remaining outlaws looked footsore and tired by the time they were thrown into their cells. JD had been given the job of leading Bishop and Devon and seemed to gain a certain delight in keeping them at jog for long stretches.  The two arrived in town, looking even more disheveled and bruised than the night before.

A telegram was sent to Ridge City and a certain porter at the train station, named Eddie Deeds, was detained for questioning.  Some time during the trek, Bishop and Devon had given up his name.  Apparently this wasn't the first time Deeds had passed information to this band of outlaws.

Ezra had been installed in the clinic by then.  Nathan had been able to clean the wound properly and bandage him, but the fever hadn't loosened its hold. He was caught in a wretched series of delusions and pains that never gave him peace.  Hours had passed now without any change.

Buck slept on a nearby cot and JD slumped down in a chair, too exhausted from recent activities to stay awake any longer.  Vin kept watch.  Ezra continued to toss under the uncompromising influence of the fever as the tracker listened solemnly to the softly uttered words.

"My friends…not even m'friends trust me…fought beside 'em…shed blood beside 'em…not even m'friends."

"Shush, now Ez," Vin said, wiping down his head with a damp cloth and then running it down his heaving chest.  "I trust ya."

"They wouldn't listen t'me.  Couldn't believe in me."

"Sorry you didn't come to me, Ez," Vin said softly.  "Wish I could'a talked to you.  Wish I wasn't tied up with other crap."  He looked up suddenly as the door opened and Chris and Josiah entered.  They walked into the room and stood at the foot of the bed.

"I expect it from others…but not m'friends…" Ezra uttered.

"How's he been doin'?" Chris asked.

"Just keeps goin' on about that Stutz money," Vin said sorrowfully.

Chris crossed the floor and sat down on the cot beside Buck, who was regarding him with sleepy eyes.  Josiah leaned against the wall as JD sat forward in his chair.

"Only wanted to share it 'round… split it seven ways…we'd all have somethin'…"

"I know, Ez."

"Ah didn't want to take it.  Honest, I didn't."

Chris moved uncomfortably and Josiah looked at the floor.

"Tried…Lord, I tried…" Ezra swallowed and attempted to wrench his head out from under Vin.  "Wanted to keep that money safe…wanted to show 'em."

"I know, pard."  Vin held Ezra's head still with one hand.

"I could do it…I truly could.  Would do a good job.  They'd proud of me."

Josiah moved his jaw slowly and clutched his hands behind his back. He glanced to Chris, but the man-in-black was staring intently at the gambler, who tossed and wouldn’t open his eyes.

The door opened again and Nathan appeared with a tray. He looked somewhat startled to see the room full again -- he had shooed them all away not too long ago.

"But…they didn't…they didn't…give me a chance.  None a'tall.  Wanted me to fail… wanted me to take it….just to prove to themselves…just to prove what I was…"

"Shush," Vin soothed, "Don’t get yerself all excited.   Ain't no call for that."

"…just a con man…a thief…cheater…not worth the trouble…coward…nothing…" Ezra clenched his hands and turned away from Vin, burying his head into the sheets.

"Hey!" Buck shouted, getting to his feet and then crossing the short distance to the bed.  "Damn it!  You remember how hard I worked to keep you goin'?  You think I'd do that for someone I thought was 'not worth the trouble'?  Hell, Ezra, my back still hurts from carryin' your sorry ass 'cross half the territory.  And you gave JD such a fright; I think you aged 'im ten years.  Hell, he's got gray hairs now.  He wouldn't feel that way about 'nothing'."

Ezra was quiet for a moment, breathing deeply.  Finally, he continued, "Had to take it… left me no choice." Ezra shook his head against the pillows.  "If I’m declared guilty of a crime…I may as well commit it." His quiet voice faded and they had to strain to hear, "Never should 'ave given me that second chance…You deserved what you got."  And he slipped back into a deeper sleep.

They were quiet. Only Vin still moved, continually wiping down Ezra’s overheated face and chest with the cool well water, speaking soft and reassuring words to the one who couldn't hear.  Finally, once he was certain that Ezra was calm again, he raised his head and asked Chris, "How you aim to fix this?"

PART 24:

Ezra sat on the boardwalk outside the saloon and looked out across the town.  He had just spent the past five days in Nathan's stuffy clinic.  He didn't remember much about the first day or so; it was a disconnected and confusing blur until his fever broke. The following days were abominable.  He had been as weak as a babe, hardly able to move, needing help to eat and get to the toilet.  He grimaced at the memory.  Worst of all, everyone walked around as if on pins and needles.  He was certainly glad to be free of it, and enjoyed this chance to sit in the sun.

Nathan and Josiah had carried him down to the first floor for some fresh air and admonished him to keep still. Who were they kidding?  He was still too weak to move.  There’d be no escape attempts in the immediate future.  He couldn’t promise them anything for the days to come though.

"Ezra."

He turned to see a dark-clad shape move toward him.  "Mr. Larabee, how good it is to see you."

"Need to talk."

Ezraraised an eyebrow.  "You appear capable of discourse."

Chris smirked at the sarcastic remark.  "This business about the money…"

"I believe that Mr. Pilgrim recovered the majority of his inheritance."  Standish waved his hand.  "A few of the stocks are still missing from the pot, but he's safely away from here and I believe glad of that."

"Ain't about Pilgrim," Chris said, spitting out the name.

"What then?"

"It's about Stutz."

"Oh," Ezra replied quickly and leaned back in his chair. "Ah yes, I'm familiar with the name and the situation."  His eyes fastened on piece of paper that flitted about, far down the street.  "Both father and son have departed this earth, and the money, I believe, has been handed over to the government.  I'm certain they'll use it wisely."

Chris leaned his shoulder against the roof support.  "Didn't give you a fair shake."

The paper became extremely fascinating and Ezra couldn't take his eyes from it.  "Well, it all turned out for the better."  He smiled tightly.  "No harm done."

"Damn it, Ezra!  Everything just went to hell. I just need you to know that given the same circumstances, I'd have no problem trusting you with something like that."

Ezra laughed, but his eyes still watched the paper. "Considerin' the outcome of that situation, I can't see how you could.  It would be extremely unwise on your part."

"Well, considerin' that you got yourself shot tryin' to save Mary…"

"I wasn't tryin' to get shot, Mr. Larabee.  I was simply attempting to disarm the miscreant and misjudged the situation."  He rubbed his side at the memory.  "Misjudged it deplorably…" he added.

"You saved her life."

"Yes, I remember her sayin' as much."

"I wanted to thank you for that.  Don't think I've made a proper showing of my gratitude." Larabee's voice became softer as he admitted, "Don't know what I would have done if harm came to Mary. If it weren't for you…" His voice trailed off and then he added, "…she'd be gone."

Ezra nodded in response, watching the paper turn.

Larabee frowned, knowing that this wasn't going to be easy, "And well, I misjudged, too.  Made rather poor decisions with this Pilgrim thing."

A smile jerked at Ezra lips.  "We all make mistakes, Mr. Larabee."

"I've made a lot of 'em over the years.  I figure that business over the Stutz money was one of 'em, and this decision about sending you three after that box without lettin' you know what was in it was another."

"Agreed," Ezra replied, lowering his hat over his eyes.

The gunslinger sighed quietly.  Yeah, he thought.  This is going to take a little time.  Figure I'm up to the task.  "There's one thing I've done, though, that never was a mistake, Ezra.  And I need you to hear me clearly on this one." He leaned closer to the slouching gambler, and spoke firmly, "I don't regret givin' you that second chance.  I figure it's one of my better decisions."

Listen to me, you stubborn man, Chris thought.  I know I ain't gonna be able to fix this with a few words… but maybe I can get a start.  It’ll take a few more days to heal that bullet wound, but I fear it’ll take longer to heal the wounds we inflicted on him. I'm willin' to stay the course though.  Willin' to make this work.

"Didn't make a misjudgment there," Larabee continued. "You could ‘ave just kept ridin' from that village and Anderson. No one would have known but you. I figured it took brass balls to come back and save our hides."

Chris had to smile at Ezra's loss for words. “Figure we all owe our lives to you," Larabee added as he straightened. "I gave you a second chance, now I'm askin' you to return the favor. Don’t sell us short. Don't give up on us."

Ezra tipped his head back, his green eyes glinting curiously from beneath the hat. He made no commitment, voiced no comment, but he touched the brim of his hat.

Chris nodded.  "You get yourself well.  Can't have you sittin' around like this for too long.  I need you back."

Ezra watched the gunslinger leave, blinking in surprise. He never would have believed it if he hadn't heard it himself.  The gambler raised a hand to his forehead to see if the fever had returned.

"Hey, pard," Buck called, startling the gambler. "You feelin' okay?"

Ezra hastily lowered his hand and nodded.  "Yes, quite."

"Nate finally got tired of ya, huh?"

"I believe he felt it would be best if we spent some time apart."

Buck sat down on the empty seat beside Standish. "Got somethin' to say to you."

Ezra cocked his head at Buck. "There seems to be a lot of that going around."

Buck leaned closer to the recovering gambler and growled, "Don't cha EVER make me do that again!"

Ezra was astonished. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean. I'm talkin' about you makin' me shoot cha."

"But, Mr. Wilmington, it was for the best, and it made for great theater."

"I don't give a shit about that. I ain't gonna shoot at one of my friends again. Never!  Hell, I've been havin' nightmares about it ever since."

"I'll make note of that.  And perhaps you should try warm milk before bed.  I hear it works wonders.  I prefer mine with a touch of brandy."  Nightmares, Ezra thought, wondering if Buck was exaggerating.

"And then, ya went and believed that I done it for real. What the hell's the matter with ya?"

"A momentary confusion, which has since passed." Ezra then said seriously, "May I take this time to most humbly thank you. You saved my life, such as it is. I never would have made if it weren't for your steadfast assistance and support. And I wouldn't have survived it if you hadn't gone through with the charade."

Buck shrugged. "Aw, Ezra.  That weren't nothin'."

"Ah, Mr. Wilmington, but it was everything to me. I do realize that I was a terrific burden..."

"You weren't no burden, Ezra."

Ezra raised his eyebrows. Wilmington must have been a better liar than Ezra thought. He certainly sounded sincere. The gambler knew that it must have been an incredible inconvenience if nothing else. "Nonetheless, I'm in your debt."

"Well then, you owe me a drink when I get back from patrol."

Ezra nodded his acceptance. It would do for a start.

Buck leaned back and then said, "You had Nate convinced you'd taken that box."

"I'm afraid so," Ezra replied.

"Why'd you do that?"

"I wasn't in my right mind." He tapped a finger against his head. "In the throes of a rather uncompromising fever."

"You remember what I told you earlier?"

"Concerning?"

"'Bout how I figured you wouldn't take that box. I know you better than that, Ez."

Ezra smiled. "Then you must know me better than I know myself." He watched the paper again.  It had moved up the street, dancing and flipping in the easy breeze. "Personally, I'm certain I'd have taken it. I have no willpower when it comes to such things."

"Yeah, well maybe I do know you better. Figure you know what really has value." Buck snorted. "Myself, I wouldn't have wanted it."

"Really, Mr. Wilmington? The worth of the stocks was more than you could imagine. Think of what it would buy. Think of all that it could give you. Imagine having your own gold mine in that box."

"Well, you, JD and me all came pretty close to gettin' killed over the damn thing. If I had a choice between the all of us alive and well, or havin' a box of those pretty papers...I'd choose keepin' us all alive."

Ezra nodded after a moment. "I do suppose you're right. There are some things, perhaps, worth more than gold."

Buck smiled broadly. "There ya go! I knew you'd come around." He gave Ezra a slap on the arm. "Gotta go patrol. Remember, I'm expecting that drink when I get back, so you better be 'round."

"Where would I go?" Ezra asked, gesturing widely with one arm, the other was secured in a sling.

"Well, take it easy while you can."

"Indeed I shall.  I'm afraid Mr. Larabee is already eager to put me back on the duty roster."

"Well, I got tomorrow free --  JD, too.  Thought we might go out to Ol' Mr. Johnston's Pond. Think Nate'll letcha go?"

Ezra smiled deviously. "I might find a way around him." Sure, he was feeling a little weak today, but tomorrow might be different. He was getting better right along.

Buck gave him another slap.  “We’ll count on you then.”

Ezra watched Wilmington turn and saunter away, whistling.  Buck moved with a certain ease and grace.  Each loose-limbed step seemed to radiate a happiness, a contentment.

There goes a good man, Ezra thought.

Once the tall cowboy disappeared from sight, Ezra returned his attention to the paper that flitted in the street. It skipped across the boardwalk and flipped end over end toward him. It danced and tossed and continued its playful progression along the street.

It skittered onto the boardwalk again and tottered toward him. When it finally came within reach, he trapped it with one of his feet.

Ezra examined it from where he sat -- noting the fancy scrollwork, the telltale images of locomotives in the corners. It fluttered in the breeze, lifting its corners and trying to wrap around his boot. He regarded it for a moment, rubbed his chin, and then lifted his foot to let it continue on its way.

THE END -  By NotTasha

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