RATING: PG
CATEGORY: OW
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra and Buck, with a nice dose of Josiah as well
DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, TNN, the Hallmark Channel, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.
SUMMARY:A runaway train plows into Ridge City, and that's just the start of the destruction.  Buck and Ezra try to get to the bottom of things before anyone else gets hurt
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: None
DATE: March 19, 2015

Runaway Train
By NotTasha...who let this story run away from her

 

PART 1:

 

The smoke cloud had been visible for miles –a thick fist atop a long arm, a telltale for a massive explosion. The telegram came soon afterward: TRAIN ACCIDENT AT STATION RIDGE CITY. CASUALTIES. SEND ASSISTANCE.    It had been sent to all surrounding towns, but with a quick follow-up asked particular assistance from Four Corners.   

 

The Seven were known to be of help in bad situations.

  

But, disasters never come at a convenient time.  With JD sick, Nathan tending him, Ezra in Cedar Ridge trying to root out some evidence, and the Sahale trial about to start, they were stretched thin.  Chris sent Buck and Josiah, telling them to send word if more help was needed.

 

They'd ridden hard, knowing that they weren't the closest town to Ridge City.  By the time they arrived, the fist of smoke had spread into a cauliflower on a long rope that stretched halfway across the sky. 

 

The town was filled with people, strangers coming in to help and townspeople afraid to stay in their homes.  Josiah and Buck and followed the crowded streets toward the train station where the smoke still seeped from the town center.   When they took a final turn, they came to a halt.

 

"Sweet mother of God," Josiah mumbled.

 

Buck shook his head, and muttered a quiet, "Damn…"  And then added, "You don't see that every day."

 

The town was cleaved at the train station. Deep ruts cut the road, tearing through the hard pack and bringing dark soil above the pale topcoat.  And then a twist of two train cars, ending at the Bonneville Hotel.  The three story structure was sliced open, leaving it like a ransacked dollhouse, with a broken, steaming locomotive slammed inside.

 

It took a moment to totally understand what they were seeing.

 

The engine must have been a beauty in her day.  The shine and fine construction was still visible through the wreckage.  She had been painted blue and silver.    Now she lay in a twist within the blasted beams and walls of the hotel. Rods and pipes and pistons were scattered among the busted furniture and singed draperies.  The boiler had scalded the wallpaper off the remaining walls.  Smoldering coal dotted the area.  The smokebox had come to rest against the far wall, bending the smokestack, cracking the concrete of the neighboring bank building and scattering further rubble.

 

The tender had followed the locomotive into the hotel, throwing its load of coal everywhere.  Two silver and blue cars were just outside the building, broken off at the hitch, flipped against each other.  One of them reduced to little more than wheels and carriage in a shattered cage of wood and metal.  The other car, as fancy as the engine, was split like an overripe melon, but otherwise intact.

 

 "Damn," Buck said again.

 

One small thing to be thankful for, the train was a 'special', not a usual run out of Cedar Ridge.  That train might bring ten passengers cars with it.  It wasn't the freight either – loaded with coal and livestock and goods and kerosene.  As bad as this was, it could have been worse if that heavy train had followed the same path.

 

Still, this was bad, very bad.

 

Little seemed to have been touched.  Even now, hours after the crash, with strangers milling about, nobody seemed to be doing anything.

 

As they were staring, a man approached. "You come to help or to gawk?" he asked.  He was an older man with a hangdog face wearing a dark uniform.

 

"We're here to help," Josiah responded.  "We received the telegram.  They asked for us."

 

The man nodded.  "Well, glad to have you, but probably won't need you until tomorrow."

 

"But the victims…?" Josiah started.

 

 "We got 'em.  Everyone's out." He gave them both another look.  "My name's Cook.  I'm the stationmaster."  He jabbed a thumb at another man who joined them.  "That's Benson.  He's…now, who did you say you were with?"

 

Benson extended a hand.  "I just want to help where I can.  I got lots of experience with project management and such."

 

"Buck," Wilmington said, shaking Benson's hand. "That's Josiah.  We came from Four Corners."

 

"Four Corners?" Benson responded brightly.  "I've heard about you folks.  More coming?"

 

Josiah shook his head.  "I wish that were the case, but we don't have the extra hands at the moment.  We can send for the others if necessary, but…"

 

Benson continued, "I think we should get started on the cleanup as soon as possible. There's no reason to delay.  The longer the track is out of commission, the worse it is for everyone along the line."

 

Stationmaster Cook grumbled.  "We're holding tight for now," he replied.  "The inspectors are coming out of Tucson.  They should be here tomorrow with a crew to fix the track if anything is damaged. Until then, we leave things where they are.  Nothing is coming through until we can be sure that the rails are true.  The engine is too hot to anyway.  Couldn't move it if we wanted to."

 

Benson shook his head in annoyance and headed toward the worst of the wreckage, pacing it off.

 

Josiah asked judiciously, "How bad are the casualties?"

 

Cook stared past them.  "Two people died at the hotel.  We had another seven injured there, and two people injured from the train."

 

"Only two hurt on the train?" Buck replied as he looked at the wreckage in disbelief.

 

"Only two passengers on it," Cook explained.

 

Buck cocked his head as he looked at the position of the locomotive, tossed on its side and slammed into the hotel.  "The engineer?" Buck asked.

 

"That's the thing," Cook responded.  "There's no sign of the engineer or fireman.  That's another reason why we need the inspector out here.   And, of course, the switch."

 

Josiah and Buck gave him curious looks.  "And what about the switch?" Josiah asked.

 

"It was turned to the side track," Cook said. "Shouldn't have been.  I blame myself." and he looked away, flushing with shame.  "I was occupied when the train came in. It wasn't scheduled!  It was coming too fast!  I swear to God the switch was in the right position when I left.  I had no time to get back.  Lord knows how it happened.  Lord knows…. It's my fault."  And he jammed his hands in his pockets.  "Two people dead and nine hurt because of my choices.  I'll lose my job, but that's the least of it, isn't it?  Those poor people.  So many lives ruined because of me."  And he squinted at the wreck in misery.

 

"If there's anything we can do to help…" Josiah said softly.

 

Cook snuffled a little, and then said, "We got plenty of folks doing nothing right now.  You might be able to help in the new hospital.  I can't bear to go there, but maybe they can use a hand."

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

The new hospital had been open for only a month or so.  It had two stories – the first floor consisted of examination rooms, surgeries and offices.  The second housed the patients – with a few private rooms and a large open ward filled with beds. 

 

Everyone was rather quiet when Buck and Josiah arrived on the floor.  Nurses milled about.  A few patients had visitors beside them and everyone seemed to be settled in and tended to by this point.  Appendages were splinted and bright burns showed on some of the more miserable patients.  Nearly every one of them sported a bandage of some sort.

 

It was something to see such an efficient and sterile room after growing used to Nathan's clinic.  Everything here was white and gray and stark and clean.  Certainly a model medical facility.

 

 "Wish we'd brought Nathan," Josiah said softly.  "He'd do a lot of good here.  He'd love seeing this place."

 

"If JD wasn't so sick…" Buck said, trailing off. "We'll wire him when we know more.  Kid could be feeling better.  He sure got himself a terrible stomach ailment.  Probably something he ate, but you never know."

 

"He does like sticky buns," Josiah added with a smile.  "I suppose that's what he gets for eating all of them."

 

A young nurse stepped up when they continued to survey the room.  "Hi, I'm Hazel.  Are you looking for someone?" she asked in a whisper as she glanced at her clipboard.  She finally faced Buck and blushed when he winked. 

 

"We just come here to help out," Buck replied, "any way we can."

 

"Oh," she said, sounding surprised.  "I think we're doing okay now."  She sighed.  "It was pretty chaotic earlier."

 

Buck nodded, and wondered why they'd come. 

 

"How bad are the casualties," Josiah asked in a low voice. 

 

Hazel looked dour.  "Two folks were killed at the hotel.  They were just waiting in the lobby.  So sad.  The hotel manager and two maids had broken bones and burns.  Three others in the hotel were in their rooms. We have them resting comfortably now. And one of our townspeople just walking down the street broke his shoulder when he tried to get out of the way.  Then there were the folks on the train."

 

"It's a miracle anyone survived that," Buck stated.

 

Hazel nodded emphatically.  "I can hardly believe it myself!  Mr. Rand broke his leg pretty badly.  The other passenger hasn't really woken up yet."  And she nodded toward a bed at the back of the room.

 

Buck saw Josiah react.  The preacher had momentarily glanced in the direction Hazel indicated, and then his head snapped back, as alert as a spaniel.  A second later, he hurried past the other beds to the one in the farthest corner.

 

Curious, Buck watched him go, and then realized the reason for his reaction.  "Son of a bitch," he muttered, then threw an apologetic look at Hazel before he dashed after Josiah.

 

The preacher reached the bed before he did, and laid one huge hand on the occupant's shoulder, the other cupped the sleeping man's chin.  "Ezra," Josiah said softly, then glanced up to Buck in misery.  

 

The New Hospital, short on everything in the onslaught of patients, didn't have enough blankets to go around.  Ezra, with his eyes blackened, his face horribly bruised, scuffed, and in torn clothing, rested on the bare mattress.

 

"Ezra," Josiah said softly.  "Wake up, son."

 

Standish winced a little, and eyelashes fluttered.

 

"Ezra," Buck called quietly as he crowded in beside Sanchez.  "You okay?"

 

"Stop…" Standish muttered.  He lifted a hand and made a motion as if he wanted to shove Josiah away, but the movement fell short and his hand dropped as he made a pained grunt. "… we're goin' too fast.."

 

"Come on, Ezra.  Open those eyes up," Buck encouraged.  And he tapped Ezra gently on his other cheek.

 

Ezra grimaced and groaned. "…too fast…"

 

In a flash, his expression changed to complete horror.  With a yelp, he threw his arms out, as if to brace himself, smacking Josiah instead.  Then, he jerked himself upright, his hand knotting into Josiah's shirt.

 

"Ezra!  Ezra, calm down!" Buck insisted.  "It's okay!  You're in the hospital now.  It's okay."

 

Standish panted, burying his head against Josiah's chest for a moment, before he turned his head, blinking rapidly.  It took a moment and he seemed to become aware of his surroundings.  "Oh," he stated.  And "Oh,' again as he slowly released his death grip on Sanchez.

 

The nurses in the room had turned their attention toward the bed at Ezra's outcry, but they'd probably heard plenty of similar exclamations that day, and went back about their business.  They were busy enough as it was.

 

Josiah was slower to release his hold of Ezra, and kept a hand at his back to help him sit up. 

 

Ezra wrapped his arms around his chest.  His face and arms were obviously bruised.  What wasn't black-and-blue was red with abrasions, making him look as if he'd narrowly survived a train wreck.  He carefully looked from Josiah to Buck, blinking as if he wasn't quite sure of what he was seeing.

 

"Buck?  Josiah?  What are you doin' here?"

 

"You okay, son?" Sanchez asked, his voice thick with concern.

 

"I've been better," Ezra grumbled.

 

"You hurt bad?" Buck asked him.

 

Standish gave him an annoyed look, and then furrowed his brow.  "Oh, I'm obviously just fine. Look at me!"  And then he winced and said, "I ache from head to toe -- every inch of me.  Lord Almighty."

 

"You don't seem to have anything broken," Buck stated, giving Ezra a cursory look.  "Nobody put a splint on you at least.  Nothing worth bandaging even."

 

"Apparently not," Ezra said, taking stock as he shuffled in the bed.  "No hurt worth mentioning, I suppose."  He sighed.  "It doesn't help that this bed is even more uncomfortable than Nathan's."  With that, he came to a realization.  "Where am I anyway?  And you haven't answered, why are you here?"

 

"You're in the new hospital in Ridge City," Josiah told him.

 

"Ridge City?" Ezra repeated.  "But wasn't I in Cedar Ridge?  I… oh… oh yes.  The train.  The Train!" he stiffened again, his arm lashing out to grab hold of Josiah and he squeezed his eyes shut.  He relaxed in a moment, huffing out a laugh. "Silly of me," he declared.  "Damn silly.  I… the train.  Yes, the train."

 

"What happened, Ezra?" Buck asked earnestly, pulling up a chair.  Josiah found a place beside Ezra on the bed. 

 

"The train… crashed," Ezra said, sounding perplexed.  He looked to his two friends.  "It did crash, didn't it?"

 

Josiah nodded.  "Quite spectacularly, right through the center of the Bonneville Hotel."

 

Standish looked disturbed at that thought. "Anyone hurt?" he asked.  "I mean, besides me."  He looked about the room, seeming to realize there were others there as well.  "Plenty of others," he breathed out.

 

"Nine hurt, including you.  And two were killed in the hotel," Josiah informed him.

 

Ezra looked bleak at that news.  "And Rudolph?  Did you hear what happened to Rudolph?" he scanned the room, blinking as if he had trouble clearing his vision.  "I don't see him."

 

"Rudolph?" Buck repeated the name.

 

"Rudolph Rand.  I was on the train with him, in his private car.  He is a gentleman and a lumber baron from the Oregon Territory."

 

"He should be here somewhere." Josiah told him.  "We heard that he had a bad leg break.  They probably have him in a private room."

 

"Well, that makes sense. He has plenty of money, that's for certain," Ezra stated with a slip of annoyance in his voice.

 

"What were you doing on that train, anyway?" Buck asked.

 

"The search in Cedar Ridge was fruitless."  Looking defeated, Ezra told them, "I found nothing at the City Hall.  The will was not to be found, and neither were the deeds for the land.  Everything was out of order and misfiled.  It wasn't worth the time."

 

"Maybe the city clerk just didn't care enough to file things correctly," Buck stated.  "Think Chris will be happy to hear that you left without even trying?"  He smiled a little, knowing that Chris would have something different for his concern once they reported back.

 

Ezra chuckled lightly.  "Mr. Larabee?  Oh, he won't be happy at all.  It's hard to please that man in any case.  Honestly, I believe someone was there before me, taking what they wanted and putting the rest into shambles to slow me down.  They would have done a better job of it if they'd left everything alone.  I would have wasted considerable time searching for something misfiled.  This was not a simple error by file clerk.  This was purposeful."

 

Josiah nodded.  "And so you left."

 

Ezra tried to shrug, but stopped short.  "They had a saloon. It called to me."

 

"Now we understand," Buck responded.

 

"I cannot ignore that siren's song.  And Mr. Rand seemed to have every asset that I admire most in a competitor."

 

"You mean, he had money," Josiah filled in.

 

"Plenty of it," Ezra responded.  "So we fell into a game and passed a pleasant time together.  But the gentleman was anxious to go.  It seemed a shame to end the game at that point.  He told me that he had a private car that currently had plenty of room, and I was welcome to join him."  Ezra lifted and dropped his hands.  "He told me it was his own private train, built to his specifications, opulent, comfortable and finely appointed.  How could I say no to that?"

 

"I 'spect it would be difficult," Buck responded.

 

"The Mighty Columbia was a beautiful engine, and his private car was magnificent, all accented in fine wood and every imaginable convenience.  He said it was built to withstand attack from nigh on anything" Ezra smiled, and then his expression fell.  "A pity.  It's probably destroyed now."

 

"It's probably what saved your life," Josiah told him.  "The private car was still recognizable when we saw it.  The other car was beyond help."

 

"Do you know why it crashed?" Buck said. "How'd it happen?"

 

Ezra lowered his bruised head and rubbed it slowly.  "We were getting close to Ridge City, I believe.  I remember seeing some shacks near the tracks and we slowed considerably.  I thought we were coming to a stop at the station, but we were still some distance from town.  Immediately after that, the train began picking up speed."  His voice became distant.  "Considerable speed.  It was going too fast, far too fast as we were heading into town.  Rand was shouting that they were going to kill him."

 

"They?" Josiah repeated.  "Who is 'they'?"

 

Ezra kept a hand on his head.  "He said a name," Ezra said airily.  He took a moment, then said, "Lord help me if I can remember it.  He was terrified.  He ran to the doorway that connected the cars, but the door was jammed.  He couldn't get it open.  He kept saying that he was going to die."  Ezra kept his head down, and he placed his hands over his swollen eyes.  "I had no intention of doing that, and I headed to the rear door." 

 

"It took seconds," he said.  "I tried to make it, but … boom…"  Ezra let his hands drop to his lap.

 

"Boom?" Buck repeated.

 

"Suddenly, boom," Ezra replied.  "And nothing else.  Just, boom, and then I was here, and then you were here, and that's all I know."  He blinked, staring off into the distance.  "You haven't told me what you're doing here."

 

"We came because of the wreck," Buck told him.

 

"Because of me?" Ezra asked quietly, as if he wasn't sure of the answer.

 

Josiah paused, his expression telling that he wished he had a different answer.  Finally, he said warmly, "Pure serendipity.  Ridge City asked for help and we came, and we found you."

 

"I gotta say, I'd have been a bit irked that they wanted us here so fast when they had nothing for us to do, but I'm damn glad we came now," Buck stated.  "Damn, Ezra.  I'm glad we found you."

 

"I'm glad to be found," he responded, blinking across the room.  "The trial hasn't happened already?" he asked. "I've lost track of time."

 

"You went to Cedar Ridge last night, Ezra, only a day has passed since we last saw you," Buck told him.

 

"That's good.  I was afraid it may have been longer."  Ezra nodded.  "Is JD any better?"

 

"He was still feeling pretty low," Josiah told him.  "But Nate seems to think he's turned the corner."

 

Ezra nodded again.  "That, at least, is good news."

 

Nurse Hazel appeared at the bedside then, shushing their talk. She told him that a doctor would be by to see him as soon as one could be freed up.

 

"I'd like to see Rudolph Rand," Ezra told her, and Hazel pointed the way.

 

Buck and Josiah helped Ezra into his boots and his torn filthy jacket.  Ezra stayed quiet as they helped him, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.  He looked around dejectedly for his hat, but finally accepted the fact that it was gone.

 

With Josiah to help him, Ezra stood, shaking like a new foal at first, but after swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he managed to walk with help.  "Just sore and bruised," he said when Josiah gave him a commiserating look.  "So please don't put a stranglehold on me.  I don't think I can handle it today."

 

"You sure you're up to this?" Buck asked him.

 

Ezra sighed.  "I need to talk to Rand to find out who was trying to kill him, and why I had to get caught up in it as well."

 

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

Rudolph Rand's private room was nicely appointed – unlike the open space of the ward. It was obviously meant for someone willing to pay for a more comfortable space.  Rand was probably a little older than Buck, but with more gray hair and a face nearly as bruised as Ezra's. 

 

He looked up with annoyance at the intrusion, but then recognized the battered man in the disheveled clothing.  "Standish!" he called.  "You're awake!"

 

Ezra nodded with a slow dedication.  "Indeed I am.  It seems your marvelous private car was as sturdy and fine as you suggested."

 

"Made from only the best products!" Rand stated.  "Mighty fine!  I told you it was nearly impregnable!  It could survive a bomb or an attack from bandits!"  He smiled broadly, gesturing toward the window of his room, which offered an excellent view of the railway and the wreck. 

 

Ezra remained leaning in the doorway, with Josiah at his side.  He didn't seem interested in stepping closer for a good look.

 

"They told me you were taking your time in waking," Rand said.

 

"I do like my sleep," Ezra told him.

 

"Well, I'm glad to see you're up. They told me they'd put you out in the ward somewhere."

 

"Yes, and you have a fine private room."

 

Rand smiled broadly.  "The best of everything for me!" And then he added a little loudly, "That was one hell of a wreck.  One hell of a wreck. I won't ever forget it, not 'til my dying day!"

 

Ezra looked from Josiah to Buck.  "Perhaps it is best that I don't remember it."

 

"Probably," Rand said, gesturing to his leg.  "I know I want to forget this.  The laudanum helps."

 

"You got any idea who did this?" Josiah asked.

 

Rand quirked his mouth.  "I have enemies," he said.  "Some closer than I'd like."

 

Ezra continued, "Do you know who that would be? I would like to know because I have something against them now."

 

Rand regarded him for a moment, then said, "You know how it is, Mr. Standish.  When you have something that someone else wants, they want to take you down.  They'll do it any way they can."

 

"So you have an idea of who did this?" Buck asked.

 

Rand made a little shrug.  "Possibly."  And he gave Ezra a look, saying, "But I have no facts.  If you have any conjectures, you'd best keep them to yourself."

 

Ezra looked as if he didn't know how to respond, and Rand seemed to be pleased with that reaction.

 

Rand went on pointedly, "It was probably the crew.  They haven't been found."

 

"Ash and Harvey?" Ezra responded, putting a hand to his head.  "Truly, you can't find them to blame?"

 

"They're missing, aren't they?" Rand returned.

 

"They are?" Ezra replied, looking to Buck and Josiah for confirmation as he gently rubbed his head.

 

"They haven't been found," Josiah told him.

 

"So you see," Rand said.  "They're the first people that I need to have interrogated."  He frowned deeply.  "I can't believe I trusted them with the Columbia.  I can't seem to ever trust the right people."  And he looked to Ezra with the same miserable expression, as if he was calculating just how much blame he could place on the gambler.

 

"No matter," Rand continued. "I have a man who's watching out for me. He'll take care of things.  He's the only one I can trust in the whole lot of them."  He rubbed his splinted and ensnared leg dolefully.  "I need my nurse," he muttered.  "The pain is unbearable and all this talking is making everything worse."

 

Ezra was looking away, his expression distant as he sagged against Josiah and finally let his hand drop to his side.

 

"Come on, Ezra, let's get you back to bed," Josiah said softly, ushering Standish through the door.  "We can talk some more when you're feeling better."

 

Rand made a dismissive gesture as they shuffled out of the room, then started shouting for a nurse.

 

When Sanchez tried to move him toward the ward, Ezra dug in his heels.  "How much of the wreck is still in place?"

 

"All of it," Buck responded.  "They can't move it until the inspector arrives tomorrow."

 

"Then we'd better go see it now," Ezra told him.

 

"You could just take a gander out Rand's window," Buck suggested.

 

"I need a closer look," Ezra told him.

 

"What you really need is more rest, Ezra," Josiah explained.  "You can hardly stand on your own."

 

"I don't need to stand on my own.  I have you," and he smiled winningly at the preacher "Onward, Josiah."  He pointed toward the stairs.  "It's time for a little detective work.  We need to do our own inspection before anyone else alters the scene."

 

"Ezra, no," Josiah tried to be firm.

 

"Someone tried to kill me," Ezra said.  "I aim to find out why."  He sighed as they reached the end of the hall, and the top of the stairs.  "Stairs," he muttered.  "Why are they always putting the injured at the top of stairs?"

 

"They're probably expecting you to stay put for a while," Josiah told him.

 

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "They don't know me very well, do they?"

 

 

 

PART 2:

 

Ezra slowed the pace when they came into view of the wreck, and came to an utter halt when all of it was revealed.  He said nothing, staring out at the destruction as he held one hand to his chest and Josiah held onto his other arm.

 

Buck came around his other side and put a hand under Ezra's elbow as he seemed to lose some of his strength, his legs almost buckling.

 

Standish swallowed and said nothing, wide eyes staring at what was left of the Mighty Columbia.  The wreckage was impressive to anyone's eyes, and as Buck stared at it alongside Ezra, he thanked the Lord that his friend had been allowed to survive it. 

 

A little fire was burning near the wreck, and Cook was shouting at a man to put it out.

 

People nudged past them, but the three men didn't move for several long minutes as Ezra just stared, breathing slowly and holding his hand to his chest, as if to keep himself in place.

 

"Hey," Cook called, walking toward them.  "Hey, you're the one who was on the train!  I pulled you out of that car myself."  He looked Ezra up and down in astonishment.  "Thank the Lord," he uttered.  "Thank the Lord!  I thought you were dead when I first spied you.  I was sure you were dead."

 

Ezra inclined his head and stated, "I am very glad that you were wrong.  Thank you," said quietly, and then returned his gaze to the wreckage.  "I truly appreciate you extricating me from this… difficulty."

 

"The least I could do," Cook mumbled, his gaze straying toward the switch – stuck in the wrong position.  "Are you able to say what happened?  I need you to tell the inspectors what you remember, honest and true," Cook said sincerely.  "We need to figure out why all these people had to get hurt or killed or lost."

 

Ezra winced at those words, and then asked, "The crew. They said that the crew is gone?"

 

Cook deflated even further.  "We have no idea what happened to them. Sent a wire to Cedar Ridge, but haven't gotten a reply. We sent some folks out to follow the track, and no word yet.  Did you speak to them before you left?  Did they say anything odd?"

 

"I was introduced to them when we boarded," Ezra told Cook.  "They had nothing to do with this crash."

 

"You sure, Ezra?" Buck asked.

 

Ezra nodded.  "They belonged to the Columbia.  They loved that train as their own.  You should have seen them, Mr. Wilmington.  They held such pride for this locomotive, kept her shined and polished and in perfect running order.  They would never have done anything to hurt her.  It'll kill them to see her like this."  He looked to Cook.  "Find them."

 

The stationmaster nodded, understanding.  "We will," he ensured and then nodded to the still smoking wreckage of the Bonneville Hotel.  "I want to show you something."

 

They started moving toward it, around the wreck of the cars, when Ezra halted to stare at the private car.  It was split open, and one could easily look into what remained of the car.  Everything inside was topsy-turvy and thrown about as if it had survived a tornado.  The car was turned perpendicular to the track, the entrance was pressed to the boardwalk. 

 

"Curious," Ezra said, staring.

 

"What do'ya see, Ez?" Buck asked.

 

"The lock," Ezra worked his arm out of Buck's grip and pointed.  "Someone tried to pick it, badly.  Then they jammed it."

 

Cook and Buck both stepped closer to the clearly visible lock, as Josiah stayed at Ezra's side to keep him upright.  Everything on the train was a ruin, but the scratches around the lock were not caused by the wreck, and there was no doubting that someone had scratched it with a tool, then jammed that tool into the lock.

 

"It was pristine when I went through it this morning," Ezra told them.  "And it explains why Rand was unable to open the door.  He did say that the car was impregnable.  I suspect someone tried the lock, wanting to get through to him.  When it wouldn't give way, they went chose a different course."

 

Buck exchanged glances with Cook and Josiah.  This left no doubt.  Someone had been trying to kill Rand.

 

Cook stepped back.  "Come on, that makes the rest of this even more interesting."  And he started to climb into the wreckage of the hotel.

 

It was obvious that Ezra would have no luck following.  "Keep an eye on him," Buck told Josiah, and left the preacher in charge of their gambler.

 

Benson appeared, breaking out of the crowd to join them.  "You boys need any help?" he asked.  "I'm eager to get something started here."

 

"No," Cook said abruptly.  "We have things in hand, Mr. Benson.  I suggest you find something to do until tomorrow, and let me do my work."  He glanced toward the cars and said, "Keep the man with the cigar away from here.  Last thing we need is a fire to get started.  We had an oil spill last month!"  And he made a gesture to Buck, to keep him moving into the blasted hotel, leaving Benson behind.

 

Behind him, Buck heard Ezra say, "I want my hat!" and Josiah trying to placate him.  Buck shook his head, feeling sorry for Josiah.

 

The hotel was a horror.  The shell of it creaked and groaned around them.  It would come down soon.  A glance at the next building told him that the bank might not stand much longer either.  A crack ran all the way up the wall to the roof.

 

Teetering over boards and beams, they made their way to what was left of the Mighty Columbia.  The boiler had blasted apart, torn open like so much tin.  The cab was shattered and scattered, and the tender had run over the top of what was left.

 

Cook squatted and pointed.  "See that there?"

 

Buck hunched beside him and squinted into the dimness, into the twisted mess.  He was about to ask for more information, when he noticed what had caught Cook's eye.   The controls for the Columbia were still mostly in one piece on what remained of the carriage, bent but complete.  Buck could easily make out the levers, even if he didn't know what function they performed – but he could recognize that someone had twisted a wire around them to hold the controls in place.

 

"Sabotage?" Buck asked quiet.

 

"Definitely.  If what your friend says was right, it wasn't the crew that did this.  I know train crews, and this doesn't seem right.  They were either forced off, or killed.  I better put a guard on Rand.  Someone's tryin' awful hard to kill him."

 

Buck looked at the neighboring building again – the Ridge City Bank.  He twisted, looking toward the train station.  The rails went straight through the town, but the side track branched off at the station –used for moving one train out of the way to allow another to pass.  The spur joined up again just outside of town – at another switch.

 

"Why weren't you at the station when it happened?" Buck asked carefully.

 

Cook was silent a moment, then said, "I got a message that my wife wanted me home right that moment. There were no trains coming so I saw no harm in it.  I was just arriving at our place when I heard the Columbia.  I couldn't get back in time."  His face screwed up as if in pain.  "If I hadn't left…"

 

Buck clamped a hand on Cook's shoulder.  "This wasn't your fault," Wilmington told him sincerely.  "Someone did this with purpose."

 

Cook nodded.  "They would have needed people on the train and people in town to set the switch."

 

"And someone to send you that message."

 

Cook's frown deepened.  "Why?  What had Rand done to deserve that anger?"

 

Buck sighed.  "Maybe they were tryin' to kill him, or maybe…" and he pointed to the bank.  "Maybe they meant to ram this engine straight into the bank vault."

 

Cook whistled. "Sons of bitches," he muttered.  "Those dirty sons of bitches."  He snatched off his hat.  "They killed and maimed people for nothing!  Rand lives and the vault is un-breached."

 

Buck sighed, "Yeah, for nothing." And he looked for Josiah and Ezra where they should be standing on the boardwalk.  He couldn't see them any longer, but what he did see set him on his feet, as he scrambled over the wreck.  "Fire!" he shouted.  "FIRE!"

 

The wrecked train cars were burning.

 

The people on the street, probably dulled by the constant smoke coming off of the hotel, hadn't even noticed that something had touched off the train car.  Buck had only seen a flicker of flame at first glance, but it flared into a full-fledged conflagration by the time he stumbled clear of the hotel.

 

Everyone was running.  A bucket brigade was trying to form, as others were slapping at the fire with cloths, while still other stumbled and fretted as they attempted to get away.

 

The fire surged around the broken blue and silver cars – flames crawling up from beneath.

 

"Ezra!  Josiah!" Buck shouted, shoving the slow-moving people out of the way as he searched for his friends, as flames surrounded the private car. 

 

"Josiah!" he yelled, trying to be heard of the rabble of screaming citizens.

 

Son of a bitch… son of a bitch!  Don't you dare be in there!  Don't you dare!

 

Cook was beside him, his eyes round with terror.  "The oil spill,' he muttered.  "Oh God!  I told them!  I told them to put those fires out!"

 

The car busted open suddenly, and a large shape charged through, stumbling onto the boardwalk as citizens dove to get out of the way.  From out of the flame, Josiah stood, his beard smoldering, his jacket singed and blacked tugged tightly to his chest, Ezra clung to his hat. 

 

"Found it!" Ezra said. As Wilmington stumbled to a stop in front of the pair.

 

"What the hell, Josiah?" Buck screamed at the preacher.

 

Josiah said nothing at first.  His eyes wide and haunted.  "He wanted his hat." And he glanced over his shoulder.  "Then it was all fire."  He shoved his way through the crowd to get to the closet building, and then leaned Ezra against the wall as Standish started coughing miserably.

 

"Hadn't expected that," Standish said, and he leaned against his knees, coughing and wrapping an arm around his chest.  "If I'd known… Probably would've sent… Josiah in alone…"

 

Josiah shook his head and patted Ezra's back with one hand, as he coughed into his other.  He looked at Buck in disbelief.

 

Cook was shouting above the rabble, trying to get the bucket brigade organized.  He gave Buck a look full of meaning and continued on his work.

 

What the hell…

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

"And why is this a good idea?" Josiah asked.  "Can you explain that to me?"

 

Ezra smiled in satisfaction, closing his eyes as he drew his hat down over his eyes.  "Because we need to find out what happened to Ash and Harvey before all evidence is lost."  He sat ram-rod straight on his rented horse as it trotted alongside the train tracks, between Buck and Josiah's mounts.  "They are due that much."

 

"He needs rest," Josiah insisted, his eyes fixed on Ezra.

 

"I'm well enough," Ezra responded, and coughed slightly.   "The smoky atmosphere of the town will do me no good.  Isn't fresh air preferable?"  He turned his head slightly, as if he meant to turn toward the town, but he remained sitting straight as a pillar. 

 

Others had been out earlier, looking for the crew, but Ezra knew where the train had slowed, and it was the best place to start the investigation.  Besides, Buck did not feel right leaving Ezra alone in that town, in his present state, especially after the fire.  They had to take him with them.

 

"We'll check this out," Buck promised.  "Then find a room before dark so we can all get some rest."

 

Ezra smiled cheekily at Josiah.  "See," he said.  "It's all been decided."

 

Josiah gave Buck a dark look, so Buck said, "You're the one that let him go into the train car to look for his damn hat!"

 

So Josiah looked away, returning his gaze to the shacks that were their goal.  "He's… persistent," Josiah responded in a defeated tone.

 

After a moment, Ezra stated, "They were… they are good men, Harvey and Ash, and deserve to be found." And then he added.  "I shook their hands. That's worth something, isn't it?"

 

There was no doubting that. 

 

They had travelled a short distance further, when Ezra suddenly asked, "Did you do it, Mr. Wilmington?"

 

Buck was dumbfounded. "Do what, Ez?  Crash the train?"

 

"Complete the purchase that concerned you so…"

 

It took a moment for Buck to remember.  He laughed.  "You mean those earrings, for Miss Lang?  Lord, Ezra, you confuse me sometimes."

 

"Did you?" Ezra continued.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I did."  Wilmington chuckled, then explained to Josiah, who was giving him a curious look.  "I was contemplating a certain purchase at the pawn shop, for my lady."

 

"You have a 'lady'?" Josiah asked.

 

"Doesn't he always?" Ezra replied.

 

"Lindsay Lang," Buck supplied.

 

"Vin's girl?" Josiah added.

 

With a sharp shake of his head, Buck declared hotly, "Lindsey and I have been seein' each other and that mangy tracker's got no chance with her.  Look at me, and then consider him.  He don't measure up!"

 

"So you bought her some fancy jewelry to tip the scales further in your direction," Josiah stated.

 

"Ezra helped me to pick something out," Buck continued.

 

"Women like shiny things," Ezra said.  "The more glitter, the better."

 

"Women prefer a man of character, an honest and charitable man!" Josiah told him.

 

"So says you…" Ezra responded as he pulled off his hat to rub his forehead.

 

"Oh, I know women," Buck replied.  "And they like all sorts of things, but a little something shiny never hurts!"

 

"The sort of women I know are very fond of such things," Ezra said, giving Josiah a small smile.

 

"Maybe you should be lookin' for a different sort," Josiah chastised.

 

Ezra laughed, which made him cough again, which made him wince.

 

Buck kept an eye on the gambler, noting his stiff stance and the dip of his head. 

 

Standish replaced his hat slowly and carefully, then glanced to Buck.  He rolled his eyes when he realized that Wilmington was watching him, and then urged his horse forward.

 

He wasn't going to last much longer.

 

They slowed when they reached the buildings, and Ezra casually looked them over as they moved past the first few.  Finally, he drew his horse to a stop beside one of them and said, "Here.  It was here that the Columbia nearly stopped – and then started speeding up."

 

Buck and Josiah dismounted and began searching while Ezra stayed in his saddle.  Wilmington wished Vin was there, with his impressive ability to find clues in just about any terrain, but even along this well-worn area, it wasn't hard to miss the signs.

 

"Someone landed here," Buck said, pointed to a place where the earth was scuffed up.

 

"And here," Josiah said, pointing to another spot.  He squatted and frowned.  "Blood," he said as he examined the dark splotches.  "This one was hurt."

 

Something near the shack caught Buck's eye and he jogged the few steps to retrieve an ugly battered Stetson.  He held it up to Ezra.  "This look familiar?  Were either of those crewmen wearing it?"

 

Ezra shook his head slowly. "They were in uniform, with smart low caps in blue and silver."

 

Buck beat the hat against his leg.  "It hasn't been here for long," he said.

 

"Could have come from one of the folks searching," Josiah tried.

 

Buck gave him a look.  "If you lost your hat would you just let it go?" and he turned to Ezra for emphasis.  "If folks were just riding along the rail, they'd stop.  Whoever left this was in a hurry."

 

"As if they were dealing with an injury," Josiah stated.

 

"And with no new trains coming through, it didn't blow off a passenger's head.  Might've come from the morning train though."  Buck frowned, but it didn't seem likely.  "Where do you think these guys went?"

 

"If one of them was hurt, they'd go to the hospital," Josiah stated. "If he was hurt badly, he's probably still there."

 

Buck nodded.  "Nine beds in the ward, and all of them were filled.  Rand had a private room, so yeah, they had at least one extra person."

 

Josiah stated, "It could be anyone of course, but it's our best chance of catching up to whoever did this."

 

"So it's back to the hospital?" Ezra said quietly.  "Probably not such a bad idea."  He kept his head low, and then added, "But we'd best check some of these shacks to be sure.  I would hate to think that those crewmen sought refuge here and we didn't manage to find them."

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

It took longer than expected to return to town.   There was no telling if the previous searchers had stopped to check the shacks, so they went through them all.  They proved empty, and by the time Buck and Josiah had finished, only Ezra's stubbornness kept him upright in the saddle.

 

They returned slowly to the town, with Josiah and Buck riding tightly beside him.

 

The town remained bustling even as night descended.  The fire had burned through what remained of the train cars, leaving just smoldering carriages and blackened neighboring businesses. Ezra didn't even look up as they passed it.  He sat stiff and silent in his saddle, and it took both Buck and Josiah to ease him down. 

 

They stopped at the hospital, and found there was no room.  The fire had wounded several new citizens, and every available space was filled.  The folks in charge were sympathetic, but Ezra was ambulatory, and many others were not.

 

They found answers to their questions.  Immediately after the wreck, the hospital had housed the nine people hurt in the train wreck, plus two more.  A woman was staying in one of the private rooms.  She'd had a rough childbirth, and was bleeding badly.  The worst of it was over, but they didn't want her moved for another day.   And there had been a man who'd broken his arm after a fall from his horse, and had broken his nose.

 

He'd left hours ago, accompanied by another man.  The hurt man was named Bill, and that's all they knew.  When Ezra asked after Rand, he found that the lumber baron was doing well, and sleeping under the effects of painkillers. He wouldn't be available until morning.  A local lawman was posted at his door.

 

Cook was still angrily trying to protect what was left of the Columbia, and pointed out the new damage – one of the town's businesses had caught fire and had lost most of its façade before the flames could be beaten back.  He nodded when Buck and Josiah described what they found and said he'd be on the lookout for anyone suspicious with a broken arm and bruised face.

 

"We still haven't heard anything from Cedar Ridge," he told them.  "Don't know if the crew made it back.  The folks following the rail should have made it there by now.  Something's wrong with their telegraph, I reckon."

 

Ezra said nothing during the discussion, wearily staring at the floor near his feet, until Cook finally disappeared, chasing after someone approaching the wreck, and Josiah steered him along the boardwalk again.

 

They needed to find a room for the night, but the main hotel in town had been obliterated, and every other available room was filled by the men who'd come to help.  There was nothing left this late in the day.

 

Ezra could hardly stand, so they maneuvered him into the first available saloon, The Beacon.  It was crowded, but they were able to find a table. Once they settled Ezra, he wordlessly laid his head on the table, cradled in his arms.

 

"Maybe we can find a private home?" Josiah said contemplatively.  "I could beg some of the local folk.  The church might have space?"

 

Buck glanced around and spotted a middle-aged woman in a bright dress, leaning against the bar.  She had active eyes, keeping track of everyone in the room.   Not that he'd ever met her before, but Buck recognized her immediately.  "Hang on," he told Josiah and strode across the room.

 

She gave him an appraising look as he approached.

 

"Darlin'," Buck greeted, touching his hat.  "I'm Buck Wilmington."

 

She redirected her look across the room. "Honey, you can call me Miss Fern if you wish."

 

"Thank you, Miss Fern.  I'm hopin' all is well with you on this lovely evenin'."

 

"It's a busy one, so that makes it lovely for me," she responded.  "You interested in anything in particular?  I have plenty of young ladies and am sure one will meet your needs.  I'm certain we can come to an agreement."  She tipped her head saying, "It's been a while, but for certain customers, I might be amenable to offering my own personal services."

 

Buck smiled, and said, "I'm looking for a room for the night."

 

"The whole night?" she replied and gave him an appraising look.  "That'll cost."

 

Buck turned toward their table.  "As much as I'd like to partake, we're looking for just a room, a room for my friend."

 

Fern looked toward where Ezra sat with his head on in his arms, and Josiah was gently rubbing his back.  "He drunk?" she asked.

 

"No, darlin', he was in the train that wrecked this morning and he's pretty much stove in."

 

Fern gave him a disbelieving look.  "You're pulling my leg," she stated.

 

"They won't let him back into the hospital because he was able to walk out on his own.  Trouble is, he can't go no further, and he needs rest awful bad.  We can't let him sleep like that tonight.  He's one big bruise and needs some comfort. So, if one of your ladies would be so kind as to give up her room for the night, we'd be grateful, and we'd pay a reasonable amount."

 

Fern moved to the table, and stood across from Ezra.  Josiah looked up when she arrived, his expression concerned, but hopeful. 

 

She turned her gaze to Ezra.  The bruises were obvious, even with Ezra's face mostly hidden in his hands.

 

"He just needs someplace to rest," Buck told her.  "I'm sure we can come up with some sort of an agreement."

 

"Bring him," she said tightly, swirling her skirts around her as she turned toward the far end of the bar.

 

It took some work to rouse Ezra enough to make him stand, and even so, he hardly carried his weight once Buck and Josiah were on either side of them.  Fern waited beside a door.  When they reached her, she pulled a key from her pocket and turned the lock.

 

It was dark within, but she lit a lamp.  The room wasn't the typical cell used by a whore – not all perfumed-gauzy-pink.  It was a nicely-furnished, warm little apartment with a tea kettle on the stove, and books on the shelf, a table, a couch, an easy chair and a small bed with a cozy quilt.

 

"This is my private place," Fern explained.  "With all the business coming through tonight, I doubt I'll have time to use it tonight.  Keep it neat.  I'll want rest in morning.  Don't mind the cat."  And she turned, leaving the room in a rustle of skirts before Buck even had the chance to thank her.

 

 

 

PART 3:

 

The cat, who had been occupying the far corner of the bed gave them an unhappy look and refused to move as they maneuvered around it.  It remained a curled gray ball and glared at them when they settled a quilt over Standish.  Ezra didn't make a sound, falling into an instant and exhausted slumber. 

 

The couch was not long enough to comfortably support a man the length of Buck Wilmington, and certainly not size of Josiah Sanchez.  Buck tried his luck with it anyway, having to throw his long legs over one end.  Josiah slouched into the chair, saying that he'd do just fine.

 

Buck didn't believe it.

 

They were too tired from the day's events to complain… much.

 

Buck woke as daylight came through the window.  He blinked and took a moment to recall where they were.  Waking up in such a room wasn't out of the ordinary for him, but finding himself there with Josiah and Ezra was new.

 

His legs exploded in pain the moment he moved them off the couch's arm.  His legs, from the knees down, were dead-weight with no feeling whatsoever.  It took several moments of pounding and stomping to bring some life into them.

 

"Enough already," Josiah called thickly.  He had moved the chair beside the bed at some point during the night, and had managed to sleep half-on the chair and half-on-the-bed, his neck crooked to a fantastic angle.  "Enough…"

 

Once Buck shuffled onto his numb feet, he angled himself across the room to run into the chair.  Josiah, eyes still closed, took in a long breath as if he intended to continue sleeping.

 

That earned him a slap on the head.  Josiah snorted, snapping his head up, and letting out a bellow of discomfort as he rubbed his aching neck. 

 

The gambler turned his head and gazed at them, his face an even darker mottle of blacks and purples, his eyes mostly swollen shut.  He seemed puzzled to find Josiah's legs trapping him in place.  "What was that sound?" he mumbled.

 

"A bear," Buck told him, jabbing at Josiah.  "A bear tried to crawl into your bed last night."

 

Ezra languidly took in their circumstances and poked at Josiah's legs.  "Definitely a grizzly," he determined.  He tried to turn to his other side and seemed surprised to find a cat stretched out, its long gray body tucked in against his side.

 

Josiah was working his shoulders and neck, trying to get the kinks out as he slowly moved his legs out of Ezra's way.  "Not the most comfortable way to sleep," Sanchez grumbled.  "But we make do, don't we?"

 

Ezra tried to work his elbows under him, but the cat made it difficult.  The creature glared at the intrusion to her sleep, and then she stood as if she was being very inconvenienced and stretched slowly and pointedly.

 

Ezra waited until she, as slowly as possible, moved off the bed to stand by the door.

 

 Ezra finally eased himself upright.  "You found a place for us," he stated. "Must not have been easy."  And he smiled when he noted the stiff movements of his friends, and realized that there was only one small bed in the room.  "I must have won the bet," he stated, rubbing at the soft quilt that covered him.

 

"You're the pathetic so-in-so that got us into this room, so I guess you won something," Buck responded. 

 

"Where exactly are we?" Ezra asked.

 

"Miss Fern lent us her room for the night," Buck told him.

 

"Miss Fern?" Standish looked around the room.  He considered unfamiliar name, and then said, "The madams always have the best rooms." And he settled back into the pillows.

 

Wilmington gave Ezra a gentle thump.  "Think you can get up?  We've probably worn out our welcome."

 

Ezra seemed to think a moment, then nodded.  He drew the quilt off his legs, and slowly, carefully sat up and, with a groan, moved his feet off the bed.  He gave Buck and Josiah an irritated look, saying, "I usually don't have an audience."

 

"Just get the show on the road," Buck said.  "It's time we got moving." But still, they were patient, and Josiah offered an arm to help Ezra stand. 

 

"I fear I am stiffer today than yesterday, but may be less sore," Ezra said as he made a careful step, and then another, before reaching for his torn jacket.  He frowned as he examined the state of it.  He sniffed it experimentally.  "It smells like a campfire," he grumbled.

 

 "Smells like half-cooked southerner, you mean," Buck stated.

 

"Wish I had brought my luggage with me from Cedar Ridge, but I'd expected to go back there on the afternoon train."

 

"Well, if you'd brought your bag on the Columbia, it probably would've burned with the cars."

 

Ezra nodded at that logic, and when Josiah held up his boots, he sighed and sat down on the side of the bed to allow the preacher to help him.

 

They left a few minutes later, after doing their best to set the room to right.  The cat said nothing, watching them with baleful eyes.  When they finally opened the door, she darted out into the saloon.

 

The bartender watched with an impassive eye, but seemed intrigued to find three men leaving the madam's room. 

 

The Beacon was surprisingly crowded despite the hour, but coffee seemed to be the drink of choice.  They found Fern waiting for them at one of the tables, and shuffled into the awaiting chairs.

 

The bartender arrived with three mugs of coffee and set them up before wordlessly returning to the bar. 

 

"Forgive me for not joining you in a morning repast," she said, petting the gray cat who'd found a spot on her lap, "but I'll be off to sleep soon.  I hope you enjoyed your night.  Was it comfortable?"  And her lips puckered in a smile, taking in their movements.  "Which one of you folded yourself onto the couch?"

 

Buck raised hand.

 

"And nobody figured that the bed was large enough to share?  I've shared it plenty of times."

 

"He crawled halfway in," Buck said, indicating Josiah.

 

"Just used it as a leg rest," Josiah said, looking abashed.

 

The cat who kept her suspicious gaze on the men. 

 

"Men can be so foolish,"  Fern declared.

 

Ezra smiled, and curled his hands around the coffee mug, taking a moment to savor the warmth of it.  "My dear Miss Fern, I thank you profoundly for your kindness in allowing such cretins into your private residence.  I am exceedingly grateful."

 

"We're all mighty thankful," Josiah added.

 

 "Think nothing of it," she responded, then turned her attention to Ezra.  "How are you today, dear?  You look awful."

 

"I've been better," Ezra returned, lifting the mug to her.  "Your exceedingly comfortable bed certainly helped."

 

"I am expecting payment," Fern told him flatly.

 

"Of course," Ezra's gracious smile fell only a little as he settled the mug on the table.  "Of course… was the price determined last night?" And looked to the others.

 

Fern waved her hand, and leaned forward onto the table.  "You all are from Four Corners, aren't you?  I want information. I want to know what's going on with that trial.  I've been hearing all sorts of tales about the Sahales and want to hear it from folks who know.  Now, tell me a story."

 

The three exchanged glances.  They hadn't been sworn to any secrecy, and most of what they knew as common knowledge.  "How much do you know already?" Buck asked.

 

"I heard that two brothers with big ranches fell in love with the same woman from some middlin' town.  And then all hell broke loose."

 

"Well," Ezra said, leaning back in his chair with a wince. "That's the short story.  But yes, the brothers – Adam and Robin -- both believed they were given their land in their father's will.  Two substantial properties separated by a river.  The best way to cross from one property to the other was at a bridge, at a tiny town called, conveniently enough, Bridge Town."  He held the mug in both hands, keeping it close to his face.  His voice took on a honeyed tone as he continued, "The lovely Helen Witt lived there and ran a tiny tavern in that tiny town.  Both brothers went through there often, and she was favorable to both of them."

 

He closed his eyes. "She had them both twisted around her little finger and soon had proposals out of each. And at some point, the brothers discovered that each other was taking a … dip in the pond. They directed their anger at each other, setting each other's buildings ablaze and rustlin' cattle back and forth between the two lands. The poor animals all ended up double-branded."

 

"Then they started blowin' things up," Buck interjected.  "Slippin' onto each other's' land and dynamiting whatever they could put a hand to.  They say debris was flyin' every-which-way for days."

 

"One of them ended up blowing up the bridge to spite the other," Josiah told her.

 

"So, we brung them in.  To put an end to their shenanigans," Buck added.

 

Ezra took another sip of coffee and said, "That's when they both claimed to own the other's ranch.  Robin declared that his father willed him Sahale North along with the South because he was the favorite son, and then Adam claimed the same about the South.  If either of them owned both ranches, then the other brother could be charged with all the destruction.  Why would they damage their own property?"

 

"That's ridiculous," Fern stated bluntly.

 

"So many things regarding love are," Ezra said.  "And since they were pointing fingers at each other, and it has become very difficult to sort out."

 

"So, you just need to prove who owns what," Fern stated plainly.  "There's got to be a record somewhere."

 

Ezra nodded.  "That is exactly what I was dispatched to find, but I came up empty.  Someone was at the records office at City Hall before my arrival at Cedar Ridge and ransacked everything.  Ty Sahale's will would have been on file there, as well as any deeds for the property."

 

"And nothing is recorded anywhere else?"

 

"Cedar Ridge has the closest thing to a county seat in these parts," Josiah told her.  "The information should have been there."

 

Fern frowned.  "So, what happened to Helen?" she asked.

 

Buck sighed.  "She's a firecracker.  Pretty thing, but full of fire and ready to fight everyone about everything that's been going on.  I think she's waiting for the chips to fall so that she can figure out which brother is gonna come out of this with his fortune intact, and that's the one she'll go with."

 

Fern shook her head.  "She's just a poor girl caught in the middle.  Probably didn't understand what she was getting involved with and was just wanting a better life."

 

"Or she maybe she's a gold digger," Buck commented.  "Just playin' with their hearts."

 

Fern nodded.  "I don't take sides in such matters," she said.  "But I don't cotton to that sort of behavior.  It does all women a disservice."  She picked up the cat from her lap, and cradled it like a baby as she stood.  After a moment she settled the animal on her chair and told her, "Now you go out and have some fun, Sweetie-girl."

 

The cat just glared.

 

Fern smiled, and said "I thank you for the tale, gentlemen, but I need my beauty sleep.  I will bid you adieu." And Fern sauntered off to her room.

 

They sat in silence for a moment or two as they drank their coffee, and the cat watched them.  Not able to handle that stare, they turned their attention to the activity in the street.

 

"It'll take some work to clean up all," Josiah said.

 

"They have brought in many strong backs," Ezra responded, and sipped at his coffee.  "I thank the lord that I'm not expected to assist."

 

"Ezra," Josiah, "Nothing beats a day of good honest labor."

 

"Not in my present condition," Ezra grumbled.

 

"Well," Josiah said, "It would be a fine thing if you'd join me someday with my work around town."

 

Ezra rolled his eyes.  "I try to avoid anything honest at all costs."

 

Josiah smiled. "Once you're feeling better, of course.  I can show you the errors of your ways."

 

"Try to catch me," Ezra muttered into his mug.

 

The wail of a train whistle stopped their conversation, and the cat hunkered down in her chair.

 

A crowd of men were out the door in an instant.  It took a little longer for the three to get to their feet.  Ezra took a moment to scratch the cat behind its ears.  She leaned her head into his hand and let him pet her for a moment.

 

"Ezra," Buck called.  "We'd better check this out."

 

Ezra nodded and followed with a slow limp.  They were just in time to see an engine arrive, towing a flat-car equipped with rails and beams and a crane.  The inspectors had arrived.

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

It didn't take the inspectors long to determine that the burned hulk of the train cars could be moved, and the legions of men filling the town finally had something to do. 

 

Next, the inspectors focused their work on the switch. 

 

Ezra and the others watched them.  Finally, Standish said, "You were saying that the engine might've been used to break into the bank?"

 

"It's possible. It's one of the few things that make sense," Buck said.

 

Ezra pointed.  "Look," he said.  "If someone had considered launching the engine at the bank, they would've had no earthly reason to expect it to work.  Look at the angle where the spur leaves the main line at the switch.  If I was a betting man, I never would have expected it to make contact with that building.  It's surprising that it hit the Bonneville so squarely."

 

Buck moved into the position that Ezra had just occupied.  He was right.  With the cars removed, it was obvious that the contact made with the bank was pure happenstance.  The locomotive might have ended up anywhere near the Bonneville, or the building next to it – but it shouldn't have run into the bank.  This also seemed to prove that they weren't aiming for the hotel either.  This wasn't a grudge against the Bonneville's owner, either.

 

"So they weren't after the bank," Buck concluded and turned toward the hospital.  "It must be about Rand.  Why would someone want to kill him like that?"

 

"He's rich," Ezra replied.  "Sometimes that's enough."

 

"You said that Rand mentioned a name to you," Buck said.  "Do you remember it?"

 

Ezra crinkled his brow in thought, but finally shook his head in exasperation.  "Try as I might, I just can't recall it."  He made an open handed gesture.  "It's just gone from my head.  I can remember general details, but the specifics are gone.  I'm sorry."

 

"Just keep thinkin' on it.  It'll come in time," Buck assured him.

 

"It's frustrating as hell," Ezra told him. 

 

Josiah suggested, "Perhaps we should check on Rand to see that he's still safe, and get some more answers."

 

The tenor of the town had changed.  With the arrival of the inspectors, it meant that all the meandering hoards had something to do.  Clearing out the train cars was just their first task, next, they would be crowded around the Bonneville for their chance to help tear it down and take apart the poor battered Columbia.

 

The men crowded in, waiting, leaving the streets rather unoccupied.

 

Buck looked up at the New Hospital as they approached, wondering if the staff had freed up any beds.  Ezra was doing better, but his slow pace and stilted movements told that he was still in bad shape. More rest would do him good.

 

Buck was looking up at the windows when something caught his eye – a movement at Rand's window – a shape.

 

Son of a…

 

He slammed himself bodily against Ezra, tearing him out of Josiah's grip and flinging Standish to the boardwalk as the shot rang out.  Josiah spun about, pulling his weapon from its holster and aiming toward the shooter in the window.

 

Underneath him, Ezra gasped as Buck pulled his gun and fired at the shape with the rifle.  Between them, Sanchez and Wilmington fired four shots in rapid succession and the shape disappeared.

 

Josiah gave the pair one fierce look, and then took off toward the hospital.

 

Ezra was sputtering, trying to catch his breath as Buck climbed off of him.  "You okay?" Wilmington asked, quickly searching Standish for any sign of blood or perforation.  "You hit?"

 

"YOU hit me!" Ezra wheezed. 

 

"Come on," he grabbed Ezra's arm as he glared at the window, his gun ready. "We got to move.  We're too exposed here."

 

Buck had pulled Ezra halfway to his feet when a shadow returned to the window.  He let go his hold, and only his quick reflexes kept him from shooting Josiah.

 

"Rand is dead.  The shooter is gone," Josiah shouted down.  "Ezra?"

 

"I think he's fine," Buck said.

 

"Fine, but flattened!" Ezra's voice was high and offended.  Having struggled partway to his feet, he dropped back down to the boardwalk.

 

Josiah called down.  "You'd better come up."

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 

Ezra was slow to move, and went a little white when he finally reached his feet.  Buck had to hold onto him to keep him from slipping back to the ground.  By then, the local law had arrived – all bent out of shape about the disturbance.

 

At least they accepted Buck's explanation, and they stormed into the hospital.  He slowly followed with Ezra.

 

By the time they made it to Rand's room, the lawmen had Josiah to one side, questioning him. 

 

Buck and Ezra's gaze went instantly to the bed.  Poor Rudolph Rand, still trussed up with one leg in traction, had been shot in the chest.  He'd never stood a chance.

 

Another man was being questioned in another part of the room – a lawman.  "You called me to the station," he insisted. 

 

"It wasn't me," the sheriff said.  He was a new guy, who Buck didn't recognize.  Apparently, Staines was gone.

 

"The message said to come now, that we didn't need to guard Rand any longer."  He crossed his arms over his chest.  "It wasn't my fault!  I was just obeying your message."

 

"Where'd the shooter go?" Buck asked Josiah, as his raze raked the room.

 

Josiah nodded toward the door.  "They were gone by the time I got here," he said.

 

"They?" Buck asked.

 

Josiah nodded.  "Two men. One with a broken arm.  The nurse recognized him as the man who was treated here yesterday."

 

Buck steered Ezra out of the room with Josiah right behind them.  "There seems to be a lot of false messages going around this town," Ezra stated.  "It's time we found out what this was all about."

 

They didn't make it far.  One of the doctors finally spotted Ezra and ushered him down the stairs and into an examination rooms.  Without his shirt, Ezra was a startling mottle of colors.  His right side and back were mostly black, with purples and blues swirled in.  His arms looked like someone had beat him with a board, and fresh marks were forming from his recent fall.   Buck and Josiah exchanged commiserating looks.

 

Ezra allowed the doctor some prodding and poking, but when he'd had enough, he struggled off the table and grabbed for his shirt.  He said, ""Unless you've found a way to cure bruises with anything other than time, we must be going."

 

The doctor looked annoyed, but handed Buck an bottle of something that might help with the pain, but he had little else to offer. 

 

They left the hospital in search of Cook.

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 "Cook," Buck greeted.  "We got some questions for you."

 

They found him near the wreck, his hand tightly held behind his back.  He didn't take his eyes off the inspectors.  "They said the rail isn't badly damaged.  They should be able to pull their engine onto the spur and have the mainline cleared," he said.  "Traffic will be flowing again soon.  Trains have been rerouted all over the territory, but we need to get the backup moving."

 

"We wanted to ask you about the message you received," Josiah started.  "The message that called you away from the station just before the Columbia arrived."

 

"My wife never called for me," Cook told them.  "Didn't find that out until I got home late last night.  She didn't send the note."

 

"Where did the note come from?" Buck asked.  "I mean, how did it get handed off to you?"

 

Cook nodded toward the telegraph office.  "Stevenson, the new wire operator.  He also takes messages to be delivered around town when asked.  It was in his writing, but he sent one of the boys to deliver it."

 

Josiah informed him, "We received two telegrams yesterday.  One was the general call for help, but the second asked specifically for help from Four Corners.  Did you send it?"

 

Cook shook his head.  "It wasn't me, and I can't recall anyone sayin' they were sending for anyone in particular."

 

"Can you tell us anything about this telegraph man?" Buck asked.

 

Cook frowned.  "Like I said, he's new.  Only been here a few days. Still…" He glanced toward the busy telegraph office.  "Those telegraph operators spend too much time bent over a desk. Listenin' to sounds on a wire.  They know too much about everyone's business.  You expect a certain amount of oddness out of those folks.  Still there was something squirrelly about Stevenson."

 

Buck said, "It's time we had a talk with him."

 

With a gesture, Cook stopped him.  "Don't bother," he said.  "He's gone.  Went charging out of town a little while ago."

 

"After the shooting at the hospital?" Buck asked.

 

Cook finally moved his gaze, and looked toward the hospital.  "I heard they killed Mr. Rand?  Damn shame.  Now we'll never know why this happened.  Stevenson left town just before the shooting, almost at the same time.  Then those two fellows you were looking for were seen leaving after the shooting, one with a broken arm and a bruised face, like you said.  Probably not as bad as yours, but…"

 

"Few can compare," Ezra added. 

 

"That wasn't long ago," Josiah stated.  "We could catch up with them."

 

Buck considered it and looked toward Ezra.  He wasn't ready for a long ride.  The easy ride out to the shacks was enough to do him in the night before. 

 

"They got a lead on us," Buck said.  "And I'm not sure if we'll be able to track them.  There's been plenty of folks travelin' in and out of town."

 

Ezra licked his lips, and asked, "Was there any word from Cedar Ridge or anywhere along the line?  Was the crew found?"

 

"No word," Cook responded.  "Telegraph is still out in Cedar Ridge.  It's the last station before you get here.  We've been trying to coordinate the backup of trains, and they're not answering."

 

Cook seemed to notice something going on with the inspectors, so he offered a quick goodbye and hurried into the wreckage to see if he could offer any help.

 

"Now, at least we know who their inside man was," Buck stated.  "Stevenson was sending messages to get people out of their proper places, and he could've turned the switch.  Then there were those two men who fixed the controls on the train.  At least we know that much, but what do we do now?"

 

"What the hell?!" the voice rang out as two horses thundered toward them through the street – a big black and a blazed devil.  They had no time to do anything before Vin Tanner was off his horse and upon them.

 

He clamped his hands on Ezra's shoulders.  "What the HELL do you think you're doing!?"

 

Chris dismounted beside them, giving Buck and Josiah a curt nod, but keeping his eyes on Standish.  He seemed to be steaming like a kettle about to boil over.

 

"I… I was just… walking with my compatriots…" Ezra responded.  "Doin' my best to avoid trouble and attack, and yet it seems that's all that's coming my way as of late."

 

Vin looked amazed.  "How are you standin' here?"

 

"Well, you are holding me up," Ezra responded.

 

"Wilmington said he was dying," Chris explained, putting his gaze on Buck.  His eyes were stark and pale as he stared down Wilmington.  "Said Standish was in the train wreck and was tore up -- inside and out.  Was calling for me.  We'd have to hurry if we wanted to say our goodbyes. You have something to say about that, Wilmington?"

 

Buck let out a breath.  "Seems you're just the latest in a line of folks getting false messages."

 

"We had nothing to do with that message," Ezra stated.  "As you can see, I'm fit as a fiddle."  And he smiled through his swellings.

 

"Fit as a fiddle that's been sat on and flung off a cliff," Vin replied.  "You ain't dying?"

 

"No, sir.  Not yet."

 

Vin gave Ezra a little room, and then punched him in the arm.  He grinned when Ezra flinched.  "He's okay," he told Chris, his smile growing wider.

 

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Chris demanded.  He glared across at the shattered Bonneville.

 

"I'd tell you if we could figure out it," Buck said with a shake of his head.  "Right now, it's all as tangled as that wreck."

 

"So, what are we doing here? Ezra's not on death's door.  They got enough folks here to move a mountain," Chris continued.  "We've left Nathan looking after JD in town.  Needed to call in some of the regulars to guard the jail."

 

"JD!" Buck exclaimed at the name.  "How's he doin'?"

 

"Better," Vin replied.  "Found out that he didn't eat ALL those sticky buns -- just part of one.  Thought it tasted funny, so he tossed the rest out.  Wasn't just a tummy ache.  Nathan figures those buns were drugged."

 

Another fly in the ointment, Buck thought.

 

"Drugged?  Why would someone want to drug JD?" Buck pondered. 

 

"Those buns were meant for all of us," Josiah reminded.  "We got them delivered two days ago from a thankful citizen of Cedar Ridge."

 

Vin told them, "The drug was pretty powerful stuff, Nathan reckons.  Might've been enough to kill a man if he'd eaten enough of it."

 

Thank God JD stopped eating, Buck thought, and wondered if he would have done the same.  If he had first crack at a whole box of sticky buns, he might have eaten the whole lot of 'em just to spite his brothers.  "Damn…"

 

"Curious times," Josiah stated.

 

"Yeah, curious," Vin said.  "Like curious how Miss Lindsay suddenly thinks you're her beau."

 

Buck brightened.  "Does she?" he exclaimed.  "Best news I've heard all day!"

 

Vin glowered at him.  "If I figured out what you did…" he started.

 

"Hey," Buck raised a hand.  "It's a fair fight and she's a smart girl.  She knows how to pick the best man."

 

Vin looked like he was ready go after Buck.

 

"Gentlemen," Ezra said impatiently, "We have more important issues at this moment.  We need to find those men who left this town.  They crashed the train and murdered Rand.  And we need to know why!"

 

Buck looked toward the Columbia and the devastated Bonneville Hotel, then turned toward the hospital where Rand had been murdered, and then turned his gaze on Ezra who seemed to be thinking as well.

 

"They tried to poison us all," Buck said, "But they got only to JD.  Ezra left the next morning for Cedar Ridge.  Poked around there a bit and later that day, he's just about killed on a runaway train."

 

 "It seems that the shooter was aiming for him at the hospital," Josiah put in.  "And that fire trapped us both."

 

"The fire would've destroyed any evidence that Ezra might've brought along on that train car," Buck said.

 

Vin and Chris both looked surprised at these revelations, and suddenly everyone's eyes were on Ezra. 

 

"They were trying to kill Ezra all along?" Chris asked.

 

Ezra looked at them in astonishment.  "You can't believe this was because of me?" he said incredulously.  "They couldn't have crashed that train just to kill me."

 

Buck said, "The Columbia would've killed you and Rand if he hadn't had that bomb-proof car."

 

Ezra stood a little taller, and pointed out, "If it was me they were after, then why shoot Rand?"

 

"You rode with him from Cedar Ridge, who knows what you might've told him," Buck said.

 

"About the Sahale trial?" Ezra asked.  "Why should he care?"

 

Buck decided, "And, his room had a good vantage point.  We'd been spending a lot of time standing by the street. They might've killed Rand just so they could use the room to get a clear shot of you."

 

"But I don't know anything!"

 

"How long were you going through the records in Cedar Ridge?" Josiah asked.  "Not long?  Ten minutes maybe?"

 

Ezra darted his glance toward Chris and then gave Josiah a betrayed look.  "Maybe…" he replied.

 

Josiah nodded.  "If someone had been watching you, and saw how quickly you emerged, then they would've thought you had exactly what you needed."

 

"That can't be the reason for the crash," Ezra said.  "It can't be because of me!"  His brow furrowed and brought a hand up to his head.  Vin shifted as he took on more of his weight.

 

"Seems like the Sahales are a lot more serious than we thought," Vin stated.

 

Chris kept his gaze on Ezra. "We're heading home.  If those Sahale boys want us all out of town or out of commission?  They're not going to be happy."

 

"Did you come across anyone traveling in the opposite direction when you headed in?" Buck asked.  "One was traveling alone.  Then after him, two guys -- one with a broken arm and nose?"

 

Vin nodded.  "Probably saw the first guy.  And I remember pair –the broken arm.  They seemed suspicious of us," he said.  "But, you usually get that when you're riding alongside Larabee."

 

"Those are the guys we're looking for," Buck told them.  "The one with the arm is named Bill.  The one traveling alone is Stevenson."

 

"We'll get 'em," Vin said.

 

"You coming?" Chris turned the question on the other three.

 

Ezra watched the inspectors climb around the Columbia.  One man walked out on to the spur to where the rails met the switch and joined the main line.

 

"If they get the line opened," Ezra said. "There'll be a train heading to Cedar Ridge, and I'll be on it.  If they were so dead-set on killin' me for visiting that town, I'd best get back and find what I missed."

 

 

PART 4:

 

Chris and Vin left for Four Corners almost immediately, taking Josiah with them.  The preacher was loath to leave Ezra, but Standish had insisted.

 

"I've been putting up with two babysitters for the past two days," he groused.  "I'm sure that Mr. Wilmington is capable of steering me away from open pits and keeping me away from shards of glass.  They've been trying to get all of us out of Four Corners, and that's exactly what they have at this moment.  You must go home!"

 

"In any case," he went on, "It would appear that all the miscreants have vacated Ridge City.  Buck and I have nothing to worry about."

 

Once Josiah had left to fetch his horse, Chris took Buck aside.  He jabbed a thumb in Ezra's direction while Vin chatted with the gambler.  "We seem to have someone tryin' their best to kill him, so I'm counting on you to keep that from happening."

 

"You have my word on it," Buck responded, touching his hat. He glanced at the other two as Vin gave Ezra a thump on the chest, making Standish stagger backward.  "Best keep Vin off of him in any case."

 

The thump was apparently Tanner's way of saying "adios," because he returned to his horse and pulled himself into the saddle.  Once seated, he gave Buck an unhappy look.  "You think you're so smart about Lindsay, don't you?"

 

"She's a woman of good taste," Buck said.

 

"Yeah, and I'm gonna be in town – and you're not," Vin reminded.  "So we'll see where that goes."

 

Hell, Buck thought, as Josiah appeared outside the livery, and the two turned to join him.  You just can't be sure about that Tanner.  And he wondered if he should have gotten Miss Lang something even nicer.

 

When the other three were gone, Buck and Ezra headed to the telegraph office to send word to Four Corner, letting Nathan and JD know that Ezra wasn't at death's door, that the others were headed home, and that Four Corners was in danger from the three strangers.  They stayed, and Ezra counted the 'dits and dahs' to ensure that the proper message was sent.

 

There was still no word from Cedar Ridge, but the remaining wire operators let them know that trains were backed-up and re-routed across the territory as they waited for the track to be reopened at Ridge City.  "The inspectors gave us the go ahead to start things moving," one of the operators said.  "Should have the tracks approved any minute now."

 

By the time Ezra and Buck finished lunch at the restaurant, the inspectors' locomotive was chugged onto the side track and the main line was reopened.  The first westbound train arrived soon afterward, and with Cook's help, Ezra and Buck found tickets.

 

The ride to Cedar Ridge was a quiet one, and should have been relaxing after their past couple days, but Ezra hunched in his seat and clung to the armrest with a white-knuckled grip.  Every time the train changed speeds he'd breathe heavily and go a bit paler under his bruises.

 

Buck knew better than to offer empty platitudes and assurances.  Instead, he did what he could to distract the man about the ride, trying to discover the reason for the destructive swath that followed the gambler. 

 

"Can you think of any reason why they'd want you dead?" Wilmington asked.

 

"I found nothing," Ezra repeated, and then he said, "But recall something that'd slipped my mind earlier.  I fear that I'm not very sharp presently.  I made another stop in Cedar Ridge.  It came to nothing as the storefront was closed for the day.  I meant to return.  Someone may have seen me."

 

"Where was that?" Buck questioned.

 

"The assayer's office," Ezra told him in a quiet voice.  "I had a hunch that there may've been more involved in the Sahale dispute that just cattle and land.  The ladies do like shiny things."

 

"Not according to Josiah," Buck reminded.

 

"When it gets down to it," Ezra said, "most arguments seem to boil down to either love or money."  He shrugged and said, "Everyone seems to think this is about the love aspect of the situation.  What if this about the money side?  What if the land is worth much more than we realize?"

 

"Well now," the sudden voice made Ezra jump and Buck's hand twitch toward his weapon.  "Fancy meeting you here."

 

"Benson," Buck stated the name, remembering the man who had been hanging around Cook at the wreck.  He stood, blocking Benson from entering their space.

 

"The trains are finally moving!" Benson said exultantly.  "I thought I'd never get out of that wretched town."

 

"I thought you were a project manager," Buck stated.  "You seemed pretty eager to lend a hand with the Columbia."

 

Benson shrugged.  "They had plenty of others to do the job, and those inspectors are sons of bitches.  They wanted things done their way, and that was that.  There was no room for a man like me, so I'm headed home.  Where you goin'?  I thought you both were from Four Corners?  Can't get there by train."

 

"Taking a day trip," Ezra returned pleasantly.  "It seemed like the thing to do, to celebrate the reopening of the track."

 

Benson laughed.  "I would've thought a train would be the last place I would see you. That crash should have killed you and Rudolph outright. How did you manage to survive it?"

 

Ezra smiled, but his expression was tight.  "I'm lucky, I suppose.  Only a lucky man would feel like I do at this moment."

 

Benson guffawed, and said.  "I'm headed to the club car. I'll be back with somethin' to drink and we can toast your good fortune." And he continued down the aisle.

 

Buck started to speak, to tell Benson to leave them alone, but Ezra touched his arm.  "Do you still have the drug that the doctor gave you?" he asked quietly.

 

"Sure, Ezra." Buck sat down next to him, and dug the bottle out of his pocket.  "I'm damn sorry.  I should've brought it out sooner.  You hurtin' bad?"

 

Ezra smiled again.  "My vision hasn't been exceptionally clear lately."  He gestured to his swollen eyes.  "Can you read the bottle?  Does it mention anything about what sort of effects the drug might have?  Would it make someone sleepy?"

 

Buck examined the bottle, and said, "Yeah, it does.  I can see the wisdom in that, Ezra, 'cause I know we both have to have our wits about us, but we got at least an hour left on this train and you can just take a small dose to take the edge off, and…"

 

Ezra held up his hand to stop Buck from speaking.  "How much do you think you can sneak into Mr. Benson's drink when he returns, because I'm thinkin' it might not take much to bring that man down."

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

When Benson returned with a tray, a bottle and three glasses, he set them up on the table between them, taking the backward seat.  Ezra declined the refreshment, saying that his constitution wouldn't allow such indulgences at that moment. As the gambler chatted him up, Buck managed to drop a dollop or two of the amber liquid into Benson's glass, and thankfully, the man was none the wiser.

 

Benson spoke with a pleasant easiness, but there was a tension in his manner.  Ezra tried to weasel information from him, and Benson became tight-lipped, and then he set down his glass, fumbling it on the tray.  He slurred out, "You son of a bitch…" before his chin sunk to his chest and he collapsed into his chair.

 

Soon, he was in a deep slumber, his legs splayed out before him.

 

"Didn't take much," Ezra said.  He gave Benson a poke.  The man responded with a little snort, and continued to sleep.

 

 "Powerful stuff."  Buck said and looked up, scanning the train car.  "We could find some new seats on another car," he started, but he knew it wasn't a good idea.  "Train's pretty full, and we'd better to stay put to keep an eye on him."

 

"Agreed," Ezra replied. "I'd rather not move if I didn't have to.  I'm wondering if he's the man Rudolph mentioned in the hospital, the one man he trusted."

 

"Hard to say," Buck responded. "He looks like a city boy.  Seems like the kind that Rudolph would put his trust in.  Of course, he thought someone was killing him, too."

 

Ezra grimaced.  "I wish I could recall more," he said.  "The answer seems to be just out of reach.  I keep trying to snare it, but the facts elude me."

 

They rode in silence for a time.  Ezra would flinch every time the wheels shrieked under them, and would not look out the window, instead staring forward, past Benson's slumped form.

 

Ezra caught Buck giving him a concerned look and looked mortified.  "It will pass in time," the gambler assured. "This is only temporary."

 

"I know that, Ez," Buck replied quietly.  "Anyone would be a little anxious.  Don't worry about it.  I'm not."

 

Ezra nodded tightly, "I just need to get over this," he said and continued to stare ahead, clutching the seat.

 

"You ever feel like a detective on a mystery novel?" Buck asked to change the subject.  "Because I'm beginnin' to feel like I'm in the midst of one."

 

Ezra laughed dryly.  "Yes, this has become a veritable who-done-it.  And we're the intrepid detectives!  I surely hope we can get to the bottom of this case soon, and that this isn't the type of story that introduces a new character in the back quarter of the novel." He glanced to Benson.  "I've had about enough of all of them."

 

Their trip to Cedar Ridge was, thankfully, uneventful.  Ezra closed his eyes and let out a low breath as the train started to slow.  He didn't open his eyes again until they were almost in town, when the train was at a crawl.

 

He finally relaxed a little as his eyes opened and he peered out the window, seeing Cedar Ridge.

 

"You ready, Ezra?" Buck asked.

 

Standish glanced to Benson and said, "Mr. Wilmington, do you think you could find Mr. Benson's ticket without waking him?"

 

Buck shrugged, and found it on his first attempt, in the breast pocket of his suit.  "Cedar Ridge," he said, reading the punch.

 

"As I expected."  Ezra pulled his own ticket from his pocket.  "Mr. Cook supplied us with a full fare in his haste.  Rather kind of him, but I feel it was due to the ticket office being swamped with delayed passengers.  We could go as far as San Francisco if we wanted.  Perhaps Mr. Benson would enjoy seeing the sea?" and he handed his own ticket to Buck.

 

Wilmington clucked his tongue as he took the ticket from Ezra and tucked it into Benson's pocket, letting it peek out so that the conductor could easily find it when he came through.  "Seems like he could use a vacation," he commented.  "I know I could."

 

He helped Ezra to his feet once the train ground to a halt, and they made their way to the car's exit.

 

"Now, Ezra," Buck said as the came down the steps to the platform.  "What if Benson had nothing to do with any of this?  He may've been tryin' to get home, and we've sent him far out of his way.  He may be innocent."

 

"If he's innocent, I am a pure as the driven snow.  He's up to his neck in this business."

 

Buck nodded.  There was something a little too eager about Mr. Benson, a little too apprehensive about their questions.   He didn't know how Benson figured with the rest of this, but it helped to know that the man wasn't following them.

 

"Our first stop will be the hotel," Ezra told Wilmington.  "I am in desperate need of a change of clothing, and my luggage is hopefully still in my room."  He pulled at his filthy, smoky, torn jacket.  "It's a wonder I'm able to function at all in this fashion."

 

They crossed the street, falling behind in the sea of departing passengers.  Once everyone was off, and the new passengers were on, the train was back in motion, ready to make up some lost time and clear the track for a train that was waiting for its turn on the side track.

 

In the hotel lobby, Ezra stopped abruptly, turning to face the window and stare out at the street.  One man was crossing toward the station with a determined stride, looking like he wanted to chase down the departing locomotive.

 

"Did you get a look at him?" Ezra asked Buck in a low voice.

 

"Huh?" Buck responded, and gazed at the man Ezra indicated.

 

"That man, did he look familiar to you?"

 

Buck pondered.  He'd glimpsed him as they'd made their way across the street.    From the back, he was unremarkable.  He was a big man with wide shoulders. "Can't say, Ezra.  Didn't pay much attention.  He looked kinda tense when we passed him.  That's about all I can say."

 

"Under that mustache, he's the spitting image of Rudolph Rand," Ezra said.  "And he looks as if he expected someone to get off the train."

 

It wasn't a good angle, and his contact with Rand was only in the hospital, where the man was nearly as banged up as Ezra.  He'd trust Standish on this one.

 

"Carson," Ezra said under his breath.

 

"What's that?"

 

"Carson!  That's it!"  Ezra looked relieved, as if a great weight had been lifted from him.  "That's the name!  Rudolph spoke of his brother while we traveled, his partner, Carson," Ezra continued to watch this second Rand through the window.  "Rudolph didn't speak very favorably of him."

 

"Huh," Buck said again.  "That's a new wrinkle."

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

Ezra let out a relieved sigh when he opened his hotel room and found it in good order.  He gave Buck a knowing look and said, "Proof enough that I'm not at the center of this storm.  Certainly, if someone thought I knew something, the room would have been ransacked."  He turned to face Buck.  "Proof that the crash wasn't about me!"

 

Buck responded, "So if this isn't about you, then what?  Think Carson has something to do with this."

 

"It seems quite probable," Ezra said.  He moved immediately to the little wardrobe and let out a pleased sound to find his clothing waiting for him.

 

Buck moved into the room to lean on the wall near the window.  "So," he said, "What can you tell me about this Rand brother?"

 

Ezra removed his tattered coat with and dumped it in one corner of the room. He looked ashamed as he said, "I don't think I'd realized how much of that day is lost to me.  It's coming back.  Rudolph did talk about his brother a great deal, to the point that I grew tired of trying to reassure him that he was always in the right.  He'd kicked his brother out of their partnership quite recently."

 

"That'd cause some bad blood," Buck responded.

 

"Rudolph thought he was the king of the Oregon Territory, the brains of their organization, and Carson was little more than an overpaid worker."  When Ezra removed his ruined shirt, Buck could see that the bruises had faded slightly from this morning – the blacks and purples were less vivid, fading to blues and greens along the edges, but Ezra was still a mess. 

 

Standish kept speaking as sat down on the bed to remove his boots, wincing as he worked them off.   "Rudolph felt he had been ill-used by his brother, making all the money for their company, while his brother played about in the forests and reaped the rewards."

 

Buck watched the busy train station, giving Ezra a little privacy as he changed out of his trousers.  "If Carson was out on the land, he was working hard," Wilmington said.  "I'd hardly call it 'playin' about'."

 

"Well, you know how I feel about labor of any kind.  It is best done by someone else.  A good partner willin' to take on that part of the business is an asset."  Ezra stood, stiffly, but with greater ease than had been seen for days.  He approached the wash stand and poured some water from the ewer into the basin to wash up.  "And I think there was something regarding coal," Ezra said and paused.  He shook his head at his inability to come up with more information.  "They fought.  That's all I can recall on that matter."

 

"Do ya think Carson was angry enough about that to follow him here and kill him?" Buck asked.  "Seems he went rather far to get that accomplished if he came from Oregon Territory."

 

"Rudolph was very hot when he talked about the argument.  I don't think I realized how recent it had been.  There may be something I'm missing… or forgetting."  He squeezed his eyes shut in thought. The opened them suddenly.  "There were signs that other people had recently been on that train."

 

"Signs?"

 

"Just a general disarray in both the private and passenger cars.  Glasses set out, things out of place.  Rand must have had a steward at some point, he was the type to have a servant to handle the cleanup.  But no one had done so for some time."  Ezra shook his head slightly and pulled on a new shirt. "Perhaps Carson rode with him, along with those other men we've been hearin' about."

 

"That makes sense," Buck decided.  "Would explain how they all ended up here."

 

"We should check with folks in town to see how long they've been here, and how many of them there are."  Ezra buttoned his shirt and then reached for a green jacket from the wardrobe.  He pulled it on carefully, and adjusted the collar.  Once he was wearing a fresh set of clothing, he looked much more like himself.  "Whatever they were planning for Ridge City, it was put in motion before the Columbia left Cedar Ridge, and it involved Four Corners."  He glanced to Buck.  "They moved their telegraph man into place in advance of the train's arrival in Ridge City.  They sent the message to Four Corners to get us moved out of there immediately after the wreck."

 

"So, why are they interested in Four Corners? Is this about the Sahale trial?" Buck asked.  "That's just a couple of boys blowing up stuff.  That can't be right."

 

Ezra moved to the mirror.  With a frown, he adjusted his clothing, and stared at the state of his face.  He touched one of the more livid bruises carefully. "We have little else going on now." 

 

"This is crazy.  This is all crazy," Buck stated.  "Carson's men couldn't shoot Rudolph in the train car, so they crashed a train into a building?  They had to know that they were going to hurt a whole mess of folks that way.  Killed and injured plenty.  And then they ended up just shooting him anyway."

 

Ezra hadn't moved from his position at the mirror.  He stared at his bruised face as if haunted by it.  He tried to open his swollen eyes further, without much luck.  "Maybe they failed at outright shooting him on the train, and things got out of control after that," he said quietly, tilting his head slightly in one direction and studying himself.  "A runaway train is difficult to stop."

 

Buck placed a hand on Ezra's shoulder and carefully turned him away from the mirror.  "Come on," he said.  "We gotta go check on some things, and hopefully get this all sorted out.  Probably should send an update to Larabee.  We should see if they ever got the telegraph office open."

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

The reason for the silence from Cedar Ridge's wire service was obvious once they arrived.  A recent fire had taken out the shack, along with the City Hall that Ezra had searched earlier. 

 

"Well, isn't that convenient," Ezra muttered.

 

The fire had started some time after the Columbia left, burning quickly through the records area of the city hall.  The fire continuing through the rest of the building and skipping down to the telegraph shack where it was finally quenched.

 

With the trains being backed up, and no way to send out a request for new telegraph equipment, it would be a while before Cedar Ridge would be set up to send messages again.  With no way to send a contact to Larabee, Buck and Ezra could only continue their investigations.

 

They found that the Columbia had arrived in Cedar Ridge over a month ago, that the Rand brothers had brought with five men with them – the Columbia's engineer, fireman and Stevenson as a steward and secretary, plus two lackeys, Lew and Bill.  At least they knew the count.

 

Riders from Ridge City had arrived, having followed the tracks all the way in, but found no trace of the Columbia's crew.

 

They visited the assayer's office next, finding the agent had arrived shortly before them.  It had been slow recently, and he'd taken a few days to work on his cabin.  When they started asking questions about recent inquiries, he was tight-lipped, but then he realized they were lawmen from Four Corners investigating the Sahale trial.

 

Yes, he told them, someone from the ranches had been there a couple months ago -- Robin Sahale with a few gold nuggets.   "Good quality, obviously mined from a substantial vein," the assayer said confidentially.

 

"Gold?" Ezra repeated.  He licked his lips and asked, "Any idea of where this mine was located.  They didn't mention that, by chance?"

 

"He was pretty tight lipped," the assayer responded. 

 

"Anyone else know about this mine?" Buck asked him.

 

The assayer tipped his head.  "Robin brought his girl, Helen, with him and started bragging about how he was going to buy her anything she wanted.  She shushed him up fast, and asked me for some writing paper, and use of my desk to write something out.  She said she was going to ask her uncle something.  Finished the letter right quick, and posted it the same day."

 

"Would you, by any chance, have seen part of the letter's contents?" Ezra asked.

 

"Nothing of the letter.  She was careful about that, but I saw the address where she was sending it, a lawyer's office in Tucson, to a Mr. Benson."

 

"And how long after that did the Columbia arrive?"

 

"A week or two, I 'spect. Not much longer."

 

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 

Carson was standing on the platform, waiting as another westbound disgorged its passengers.

 

Now that Buck had a better view, he could see the resemblance.  Carson was a bonafide lumberjack, with wide shoulders and a roughhewn look to him, but even so, Buck could see the resemblance to Rudolph.

 

They stood beside the tougher Rand for a moment, waiting for the passengers to step down.  When the last of them were off, Carson made a disgusted sound, and turned to see who was near him.

 

"Good day, sir," Ezra said pleasantly.

 

Carson harrumphed.  If he recognized Standish, he made a good show of hiding it.  Apparently, Ezra's presence on the Columbia hadn't been known by all.

 

"Waitin' for anyone in particular?" Ezra asked mildly.

 

Rand made a face.  "Someone should've been on that first train.  Figured he'd be on this one instead," he said.

 

"May be a while before they get all the trains sorted out," Buck said.  "There was quite a hold up in Ridge City.  A mighty wreck."

 

Carson gave him an unsettled look.  "We've heard about it," he said.  "News came with the folks that came off that first train."

 

"It was a horrible sight," Ezra commented.  "A train engine utterly destroyed. A hotel torn to pieces.  People killed and maimed and … bruised."  He tsked and shook his head.  "Terrible." 

 

Carson looked a little pale.  "You were there?" he asked, his voice quiet.  "You saw it?"

 

"From a spectacular vantage point," Ezra responded.

 

"Must have been something to see," Carson said, feigning indifference badly.  "A train jumping the tracks at the station."

 

"Not just jumped the track," Buck replied.  "Someone sabotaged it, threw the switch, turning that locomotive into a bullet designed to kill folks in that hotel.  Meant to kill anyone onboard."

 

"I heard the owner survived," Carson said with no emotion. He turned his attention back on the westbound.  No one else was getting off, and the conductor was calling "All Aboard" to get it moving again.

 

Carson looked at Ezra again, and then Buck.  "Both of you were on that first train out," he stated, apparently remembering them from earlier that day.

 

"We were indeed," Ezra said.  "And you were waiting for your passenger to get off."

 

A quick nod.  "He went to Ridge City on yesterday morning's train, and was supposed to come back on the next westward one."

 

"Pity about the crash then," Ezra said, "delaying your friend's travel plans and all.  Why would anyone in their right mind want to take such a quick round trip?  Unless they had a chance to ride in a particularly pleasant conveyance, I see no reason for it."

 

"He's our lawyer," Rand said, giving Ezra a suspicious look.  "He was going to … pick up some information and return." 

 

Suddenly, a voice called out in the street. Two men in a cart were shouting, "Get the sheriff!  Hurry!"

 

Buck groaned, wondering what else was going to fall their way, but he followed Ezra toward the cart.  Carson and a dozen other folks curiously crowded in.

 

Three men sat at the front of the cart.  "We found 'em yesterday," one of them was saying to the first folk who reached them.  "Couldn't make it here until today."

 

They reached the cart at the same time.  Carson gasped and Ezra suddenly wavered on his feet.  Buck placed a hand on his arm to steady himself.  In the bed of the cart were two bodies – both in smart uniforms of blue and silver – Ash and Harvey, the train's crew.

 

The bodies were bruised and battered and unmoving.

 

Buck turned his attention on Carson, who'd gone as white as a sheet.  When he saw attention on him, he started to stumble off, but Buck pulled away from Ezra and went after him.  He grabbed hold of his arm and said between gritted teeth, "Anything you want to say about this before the sheriff arrives?"

 

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 

At a little restaurant that looked out at the crowded train station, Carson Rand fretted and pulled at his napkin.  He was a big man, but at that moment he looked like a child.

 

"I didn't mean for this to happen!" he hissed finally.  "None of this was supposed to happen.  It's all his fault.  This is his fault."

 

"Care to tell us about it?" Buck asked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

 

"I want to go on record that none of this was my fault!" Carson repeated.

 

Ezra and Buck exchanged a glance, and Ezra said, "On the record I will note that you say that it isn't your fault."

 

Carson frowned, cleared his throat and then said, "We have a lawyer in Tucson.  My brother, Rudolph, had asked him to be on the lookout for new stakes, something in the southwest or someplace warm. He was tired of the rain in our part of the Oregon Territory.  He thinks it rains all the goddamn time, but he doesn't know anything.  Hardly ever puts his head outside his office.  He acts as if doing any real work would kill him."

 

"Not an unpopular notion," Ezra said, "for some…"

 

Carson went on, "Benson wrote to us and told us about an interesting opportunity.  His niece was aiming to marry a man and wanted to know the worth of his land. They found gold.  Rudolph had promised to reward Benson if he came across any opportunities, so he was proposing that we get interested."

 

Carson glared at both of them.  "I had nothing to do with it," he said.  "This was all Rudolph's idea."

 

"Yes, I think you've stated that before," Ezra said.  "On the record."

 

"We came out last month to check it out, and I was looking out for our interests."

 

"Of course," Ezra replied.

 

"And where is this property?" Buck led on.

 

"It's near a nothing town called Four Corners.  Two brothers feuding, trying to take each other's land.  We saw the gold that one of them was carrying.  Apparently, it was good stuff.   Rudolph had a plan."  Carson scowled.  "I was trying to save lives," he said.  "Rudolph meant to kill them all."

 

That brought Ezra and Buck to attention.  "Kill them all?  Who exactly…"

 

"The brothers… and a woman."  Carson groaned at the memory.  "And anyone else who was in the way."

 

"And how exactly did your brother plan on killing these folks?" Buck asked.

 

"They had plenty of men on their ranches, plenty of folks with guns.  We weren't ready to take that on.  So, we waited, and then heard they were in custody in Four Corners.  Rudolph figured it'd be easier to get them there, when they weren't on their own home land.  But then folks around here were sayin' that if these brothers were in Four Corners, there'd be no way of gettin' at 'em. They have a squad a lawmen there like a pack of feral dogs.  Rudolph figured if we could get those men out of the way, then we'd have an easy way in.  He'd already sent poisoned food to the lawmen when I found out about it."

 

Buck's hand tightened on his gun as he remembered JD. 

 

"When he hadn't heard about lawmen dropping down dead, he figured he'd find another way to get them out of town.   He sent his train steward to Ridge City.  That man knew Morse Code, and could get a place at their wire office.  Rudolph didn't want him working from here in case anything blew back at him."

 

"Of course," Ezra responded.

 

"Told him to lay low for a few days, just get integrated in with the other folks, start sending messages around town, getting himself settled in.  He'd need to send a message to Four Corners when the … time was right… callin' for help from those lawmen."

 

"Yes, if only something big would happen in Ridge City…" Ezra led on.

 

"We had a falling out," Carson went on, not taking the bait.  "I was done with all this nonsense, done with all this talk of killing those boys… and the woman.  And Rudolph was done with me.  He told me and the other fellows to get off the train, and he went on his way.  And that's the last I heard of anything," Carson added.  "Until today, when I heard about the crash.  My brother survived?  That's what I heard, thank the Lord."

 

Ezra and Buck exchanged puzzled looks.  "That doesn't sound like enough, does it, Mr. Wilmington?"

 

"Not hardly," Buck replied.

 

Carson looked defiant.  "What do you mean?"

 

"Why did your man at the telegraph office send a message to Mr. Cook that drew him away from the station just before the train came in?  Pure happenstance?" Ezra made a face.  "Someone had to change the switch.  The crash was planned before the train left Cedar Ridge."

 

"I had nothing to do with it!" Carson spat out.

 

"You said Benson went on the morning train.  There was indeed one train before the Columbia left Cedar Ridge," Ezra told him.  "Benson was on that train, sent ahead to inform your nefarious steward about your plan. He had to get that message to Cook before the Columbia reached the station. You had your remaining men board the passenger car and go into hiding."

 

Carson started to stand, but Buck pulled his gun, resting it on the table and aiming it at the man. 

 

Carson stared.

 

Ezra kept speaking.  "Once the train was in motion, they attempted to enter the private car, probably to knock your brother unconscious," Ezra looked to Buck.  "Bullet holes might be conspicuous, but two men could take down a passenger who wasn't expecting an attack, especially if he's supposed to be alone and especially if the accosters were known and trusted associates.  And a few more bruises would be unnoticeable after such a tremendous crash."

 

"Yeah," Buck said, taking up the story as he figured it out as well.  "When they couldn't get in, the jammed the door and went after the crew.  Killed them and dumped them.  Then slowed the train outside of town, just enough to jump off, after fixing the controls so that it'd keep speeding up."

 

"Someone turned the switch at the station.  Was it the steward, or did you have the lawyer perform that task?" Ezra asked.

 

"I had nothing to do with that!"  Carson cried, trying to keep his voice down as he stared at Buck's gun.  "The crew wasn't supposed to die!"

 

"And your brother wasn't supposed to survive the crash," Ezra told him.  "When he defied the odds, you had your men murder him in cold blood in the hospital."

 

Carson shifted his gaze to Ezra, eyes even wider. "I didn't … I didn't know… I hadn't told them…I couldn't anyway, telegraph was out!  After the fire, I couldn't tell them anything anymore!"  And he gritted his teeth to shut himself up.

 

"You endangered all those lives, killed folks, hurt folks, tried to kill my friend three times to keep him quiet, just because you were mad at your brother," Buck stated.

 

"No!" Carson exclaimed, looking at Ezra in confusion. "I don't know him!  And I was out of contact with the others.  I had no idea what was goin' on!"

 

"There must have been some serious hate between you two, not just a simple disagreement on how to dispose of a couple of young ranchers," Ezra went on.   "Not just about money," he stated, as if he didn't quite believe it himself. "You don't seem the kind to be overly tempted in that direction.  So, what do you care about?  What is it that matters so much to you?  He must have threatened something…"

 

"Love or money," Buck said, remembering a conversation they'd had earlier. "So if it wasn't money," and he turned to Carson.  "Must have been about a woman?"

 

"So, Mr. Rand, did he try to steal your girl?" Ezra taunted.  "He was the better dressed of the two of you, the more refined.  Did this girl prefer his good manners to your roughness?"

 

Carson half stood, ready to launch himself at Ezra, but Buck raised the gun and kept him in place.

 

Carson glared at him, his eyes filled with hate.  "He's a goddamn son of a bitch that doesn't care about anyone other than himself!  He deserved to die!  That train crash should've killed him," Carson snarled.  "He wanted her dead!  He was going to kill her!"

 

Ah, that was it.

 

"Kill who?" Buck asked.

 

"Helen Witt!" Carson cried.  "He's going to blow her up with those brothers at your jail!  He knows that she'll be there with them!  Stevenson will do it."

 

"The telegraph operator?" Buck responded, surprised.

 

"He won't stop until he's done with Rudolph's plan!  He's devoted to that man."  Carson choked a sob and cried, "Helen… Helen was going to be my wife!"

 

That was enough to make both of them draw back in surprise.

 

"I love her," Carson said quietly.  "It was supposed to be part of the scheme.  I marry her, and once the brothers were dead, I'd inherit everything.  I wasn't going to do it, but Helen… she was lovely.  I couldn't help but fall in love with her."

 

"Seems to be a trend," Buck muttered.

 

Carson went on.  "Rudolph could've taken all the gold.  He could have had all the land, and left me with Helen.  We could have gone off to some far flung corner of this country and started over, but…" and his eyes filled with a rage again, "She wanted more.  She wanted everything!  And she married Rudolph instead!  Said he was the better choice."

 

And he looked toward the door and said, "I still have a chance!  I can change her heart!  I can save her!"

 

Buck and Ezra, turned to each other with looks of utter astonishment, and that was enough for Carson to attempt his escape.

 

He bolted from his chair and charged through the door.  Buck stumbled, getting to his feet and then went after him.  "Stop!" he shouted.  "Stop, goddamn it!"

 

The Cedar Ridge lawmen were still crowded around the cart that held the poor bodies of the Columbia's engineer and fireman.  They saw Buck charge after Carson with his gun drawn.  "Stop him!" Buck commanded.  "He's the reason those men are dead!"

 

The lawmen tried to corral Carson Rand, but he was a big man, used to the great outdoors and wresting with bears.  He broke past the first lawman, throwing him to the ground, and then he shoved the second against the cart.  The third man would have no more of that, and fired a shot that slammed through Rand's chest.

 

Carson, still running, curled over himself, and fell face first into the dirt.  He struggled for a moment, and moved no more.

 

Buck skidded to a stop, with Ezra following at a slow trot.

 

A small crowd built around the scene, watching Carson Rand bleed out into the street.

 

Wilmington let out a slow breath and whispered a quiet, "Damn…" at the latest turn of events.

 

It was Ezra, arriving at his side who snapped Wilmington out of his shock with the quiet statement, "Did he say something about blowing up the jail in Four Corners?"

 

 

PART 5:

                                              

They couldn't send a wire, so they had no choice.  Someone had to ride to Four Corners, and they had to leave now.  Carson's men, Lew and Bill, might have worked to kill Rudolph, but apparently, the steward, Stevenson, was still working on the original plan – to blow up the jail and kill the Sahales, Miss Witt, and whichever lawmen were nearby.

 

They couldn't take the chance that Carson was wrong about that.

 

Buck went immediately to the livery to talk to the man in charge.  With all the train problems, there were no spare mounts available for rent.  But the livery man finally offered a big roan mare.  "Carson Rand bought her from me last month," he said.  "I guess he won't be wanting her anymore."

 

They'd just completed the transaction when Buck turned to find Ezra struggling.  Chaucer was being as difficult as always, nipping and leaning on him as he attempted to lift the saddle into place.

 

With a sigh, Buck helped him.  "I don't know if this is a good idea," Buck said.  "I'd like it if we could stick together, but…"

 

"I will do my level best to keep up," Ezra promised, meeting Buck's gaze.  Even with his eyes half-swollen shut, there was no denying his resolve.  "If I fall behind, I will catch up, but one of us must reach Four Corners and do what we can to keep anyone else from getting hurt."

 

"Yeah, getting hurt…" Buck mumbled.  "We don't even know if this is still in motion."

 

"It's out of control, Buck," Ezra said.  "And I fear it won't stop until we do something about it.  Rudolph said he trusted one man, and it has to be Stevenson."

 

"Still blindly following orders," Buck said and sighed. 

 

"Well, we'd better hurry," Ezra went on.  "Carson said that it'd be tonight, and we have little daylight left."

 

With a nod, Buck added, "And it will be a new moon.  Lord, we gotta start so that we get there before dark."

 

They exited the livery, and Buck offered a hand to get Ezra into his saddle.  Ezra kept his face impassive, but he couldn't entirely hide the groan that escaped him.  It was obvious that the man was still hurting, and this ride would do him no good at all.

 

Buck pulled the bottle of painkiller from his pocket.  "This would probably help," he stated.

 

Ezra looked as if he was considering using it, but instead he shook his head.  "We both saw how quickly Mr. Benson succumbed.  I'd rather not crack my head open in a fall from my horse." 

 

Seeing the wisdom, Buck put the bottle back into his pocket and climbed onto his horse.  "Let's get going then." 

 

And they went.

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 

The ride to Four Corners was at a furious pace, and the roan mare proved to be an able ride, quick and surefooted.   Ezra fell behind, but he made up time when Buck slowed to let the horse drink at a watering hole.

 

"You doing okay?" Wilmington asked.

 

The correct response was obvious.  Ezra's skin was taking on an ashen tone, his bruises livid against his pale skin.  His chin was tucked to his chest, and his hand wound into his reins as if he feared he couldn't keep a grip on them.  "Fine," Ezra replied. 

 

"Ezra, you can stay here to rest.  We're halfway there now, and it's easy riding from now on.  I can make it there, and you can catch up later."

 

"You're not slowin' on my account?" Ezra asked.

 

"No, Ezra, I'm not.  I know we gotta get there fast."

 

"I'm not a fool.  I care too much for my own comfort to allow myself any unnecessary pains."  And he smiled that blithe smile, as if he had not a care in the world. 

 

There was little Wilmington could do at this point.  "I got to get moving," he told Standish.

 

"Then, let's go," Ezra replied.

 

And the two horses took off together, only for Chaucer to fall back again, little by little.  Buck wasn't sure if it was Ezra or Chaucer, but one of them was wise enough to hang back when it was getting too hard for the rider.

 

Finally, the buildings of Four Corners came into view, all sound and safe.   Buck smiled.  No smoke, no sign of destruction.  The jail still stood.  Thank God!

 

Buck urged his horse to a faster speed, eager to get home and sound the warning.  He glanced over his shoulder to see how far behind Ezra had fallen when, his horse suddenly went down. 

 

Only then did he hear the crack of the shot, and his world was turned topsy-turvy.

 

He flew, and then plowed into the ground.

 

He rolled, to get away from the falling horse and to get to cover as another shot hit not far from him.

 

Son of a bitch!  Son of a bitch!

 

He struggled, flopping himself toward the cover of rocks, and trying to get his gun from his holster as another shot sounded, kicking up dirt and nearly scalping him. He gasped in pain as he drew himself up against the rocks.  He wasn't hit, he knew that much, but he hurt like a bastard.

 

Goddamn it!

 

He couldn't see the gunman.  He knew he had to be up in rocky outcrop above him, but the man stayed out of sight.

 

Another shot sounded, behind him, and Buck spun, expecting another adversary but was relieved to find Ezra charging up on Chaucer, closing the distance and firing into a spot in the rocks.

 

It was enough to make the gunman change his position, and expose himself to Buck.  More annoyed than anything, Wilmington took aim and fired off one shot.

 

The man went down, rolling down the rocks and ending up not far from where Buck's horse had fallen.

 

With a groan, Wilmington shuffled to his feet.  It took a moment to find his balance and to get control of the aches and pains.  With a determined stride, he stumbled to check the man. 

 

"Buck!" Ezra called as he drew closer, Chaucer galloping to reach him.  "Buck, are you alright?"

 

"Fine," Buck gasped.

 

"Oh, thank the Lord!  You took a most spectacular dive, Mr. Wilmington – a complete somersault in the air.  It was amazing.  I'm thinkin' you're destined for a career in the circus. Are you sure you're okay?"  His tone was jolly, but Buck could hear the undercurrent of tension.

 

"I will be," Buck responded as had verified that the man was dead.

 

"Shame about the horse," Ezra panted, finally bringing Chaucer to a trot and then stopping alongside the roan mare.  "She was a fine creature."

 

Buck toed the dead man.  "I'm getting a little tired of this, Ezra," Buck told him.  "What's going on?"

 

"Someone wanted you dead," Ezra said.

 

"Why would they know we were coming?" Buck exclaimed, as he pulled open the man's jacket to look for anything that could be a clue. 

 

Ezra lifted his head, his eyes barely open.  It was a wonder he hadn't hit Buck when he was firing earlier.  He looked like death warmed over.  "Perhaps it wasn't you that was the target," he replied.  "You were riding Carson's horse." 

 

"Damn," Buck muttered, and glanced toward the poor horse.  "I thought these folks were working for Carson.  Lew and Bill?  They crashed the train because they were trying to kill Rudolph.  They shot him in his hospital bed.  Why would one of them want to kill their boss, Carson?"

 

"Maybe it's Stevenson?  Maybe Rudolph wanted Carson dead?" Ezra conjectured as he gazed down at the body.  "No, he's not right for a train steward.  This is a man who works the land.  He's obviously a ranch hand."

 

Buck stood and said, "Seems like we're always playing catch-up, tryin' to figure all of this out."

 

Ezra was unmoving in his saddle.  "I suppose we're riding double for the rest of the trip," he stated.

 

Buck thought it might be a good idea.  Ezra didn't look like he'd be able to sit much longer.  "I doubt this fellow walked here," Buck said.

 

It didn't take long to find the horse, secreted around the other side of the rocks. 

 

"Ezra," Buck called.  "You're not going to believe this."

 

"I'm ready to believe just about anything right now," Ezra replied.

 

When Buck brought the dun horse around, Ezra looked at it in confusion. "I'm supposed to recognize it?" Ezra asked. 

 

"Not in particular," Buck said, and then pointed to the brands.

 

"Sahale South and Sahale North!" Ezra said, recognizing the symbols.  "Dear Lord, the Sahale ranches are in the mix now!"

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 

The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached Four Corners.  They came storming into town, finding the streets quiet in comparison to Ridge City or Cedar Ridge, but busy for the little town.  Folks had come in for the trial, and were filling up the saloons.

 

"Buck, hey, Buck!" he heard a voice shout as he rode toward the jail with Ezra a short distance behind him.  He turned to see JD standing on the boardwalk and waving at him.

 

"JD!" Buck shouted, "Get out of here!  Clear the streets."

 

JD came to a stop, "What?  Why?"  He looked a little paler than usual, but upright and functioning which was a hell of a lot better than the last time Buck had seen him.

 

Buck reached the jail and slung himself down from the saddle.  "Get people away from the jail!  JD, do it now!"

 

"Okay, okay," JD stuttered, and then started shouting for people to stand clear. 

 

Wilmington flung open the door to the jailhouse, as Ezra was arriving at the hitching post.  He was met with Vin, Chris and Josiah – all with guns drawn on him.

 

"What the hell's going on?!" Chris snarled.

 

"What's with all the shoutin'?" Vin asked.

 

Behind the three lawmen, the Sahale brothers stood, occupying the two cells.  Lovely Miss Witt stood beside them, looking annoyed. 

 

"Someone's supposed to blow up the jail," Buck said breathlessly.  "We got to check.  We got to find it. Tonight, he said… tonight…"  And the sun was going down.

 

For a second, the three had varying looks of confusion and astonishment, then they split off, searching the room.  Buck pulled away, back out the door to search outside.  JD and Ezra were already checking the perimeter, neither of them really fit for the work.  JD wobbled like a drunk, and Ezra was again barely able to walk.  They were shuffling toward the back of the building.

 

Buck wasn't feeling too peppy either after his fall from the horse.

 

Buck had just reached Ezra, when the gambler came to an abrupt stop and pointed.

 

"There," Standish said as he leaned against the rear wall of the jail house.  He was pale and breathing hard.  "Dear Lord.  JD, you'd best… best continue to clear the area.  Buck?"  He looked up for Wilmington.

 

The low light of the sun lit the area perfectly – almost too well.  Between two barrels, amidst the trash that always built up behind the buildings, Buck could easily see the three sticks of dynamite.

 

The explosives were old, sweating and swollen.  As dangerous as hell, and the low evening sun was boring into them.  Ezra continued to lean on the building, just above the dynamite, panting from the ride.  "We'd best… move the prisoners.  Get everyone…out.  It'd be too dangerous to move the … explosives now.  We could… we could try to block the sunlight, but it's gonna go one way or another."

 

Buck grabbed Ezra's arm, pulling him back, as he shouted to JD, "Get the hell out of here, JD!  Chris!" He raised his voice to be heard inside the jail.  "Move the prisoners now!"

 

They moved.  Buck pulled Ezra's arm over his own aching shoulder and dragged the man behind him.  "Move!" he shouted. 

 

JD was in the street, yelling at people to run.  Josiah and Chris charged out of the jail, each pulling a Sahale behind them.  Helen hurried ahead of them.  Vin pounded on the doors of the nearest businesses.  Someone had already untied the horses and shooed them up the road.

 

The citizens of Four Corners were used to strange happenings in town, and were helping to herd the visitors up the street and away from all the shouting.

 

There was no telling how much longer that swollen dynamite would last.  It might make it through the night, it might…

 

KA-ROOOOOOOOOOM!

 

Buck and Ezra had barely made it around the side of the jail when the world exploded around them in a wall of sound and heat.  Buck was thrown to the ground with Ezra, and debris came at them, clattering and falling and slamming into them.  He pulled himself over Ezra, hoping to spare him from any further bruises as boards and bits of the Four Corners jail rained.

 

He was shouting, he couldn't remember what he said or why, but he knew he was shouting as he held Ezra down beneath him.

 

And suddenly, with a shock of pain, everything went black.

 

 

PART 6:

 

Buck awoke to the sounds of Nathan's clinic.  He could hear voices, muffled but recognizable.  The healer talking quietly near him, and Ezra, much nearer, responding.  They were just shooting shit, talking about nothing in particular.

 

It was a reassuring way to awaken.

 

He turned his head slowly to take in sights, finding himself in the familiar bed.  As he blinked, his vision cleared and he found that he was not alone.

 

The bed wasn't very wide, but it was big enough for two.

 

Beside him, inches away, Ezra gazed back.  "Feelin' better?" Standish asked.  His voice still had that muffled quality to it, and far off … a ringing.

 

Buck groaned and tried to sit up but a stabbing pain in his head kept him still.  "What the hell?" he asked.

 

"Buck!" he heard Nathan call brightly, and suddenly Jackson's warm expression swam into view. "Glad to see you awake, Buck," the healer stated.  "You took quite a knock on the head."

 

"Now that he's awake, I should probably be on my way," Ezra commented, trying to get up.

 

A firm hand from Nathan kept Standish in place.  "Not so fast, Ezra!  I don't want either of you moving for at least a day!" Jackson declared. "Both of you got more bruises than I can count.  I let you leave town and look at how you return!"  But he smiled, full of good humor.  He gave Ezra a gentle pat before finally removing his hand and turn to Buck.  "Just glad to see you're awake, Buck."

 

"Glad to be awake," Buck responded, rubbing his head, trying to remember what was going on.  "The explosives! Damn!"

 

"Damn, indeed," Ezra replied.  "Apparently, Carson was quite correct in that regard.  I believe Stevenson is insane."

 

"Good thing you and Ezra showed up when you did," Nathan said.  "If you hadn't, Chris and the others would have been in the jail when it went off, along with those Sahales and Miss Witt."

 

"Everyone okay?" Buck asked quickly.

 

"You got the worst of it," Nathan told him.

 

"And what about him?" Buck said, jabbing a thumb in Ezra's direction.

 

"Not much worse for wear," Ezra replied.    "I think only a few new bruises were added.  Mostly from you landing on me.  You are neither gentle nor light."

 

"He took a few more blows as well," Nathan explain to Buck.  "Wrenched his knee a bit, so that's another reason to keep him in bed for bit longer."

 

"Plus, I'm half deaf from all that shouting.  Really, Mr. Wilmington.  You were inches from my ear.  I could hear you just fine… that is until you damaged my hearing."  Ezra turned to Nathan.  "Really, Mr. Jackson.  His proximity is affecting my ears again.  I really should move."

 

"I think the explosion had more to do with it than Buck." Jackson told him.  "I want you off your feet and resting!"  Then he turned his wrath on Buck.  "What were you doing, dragging him all over hell when he was that hurt?"

 

"Mr., Jackson," Ezra said in a tired voice.  "The hospital did not allow me to return, so…"

 

"You never should have left in the first place, Ezra!  And hospitals know nothing," Nathan snapped. "I'm the one that knows best, and I'm going to keep you here and make sure you rest and don't hurt yourself any worse!"

 

"I'm much better than I was," Ezra responded quietly.

 

Nathan did not look pleased.  "You were a damn fool to take that ride from Cedar Ridge!"  He turned his ire on Buck, "And you were a fool to let him do it!"

 

Buck grumbled, "You try stoppin' him.  He's persistent as hell!"

 

Ezra smiled.  "It is my middle name."

 

"And you," Nathan said, poking Buck, "You're gonna to stay right here as well, because you have a concussion."

 

"Yes, a concussion," Ezra said. "That's a nasty thing to have, a concussion.  You'd best keep still."

 

"I seem to remember that they couldn't wake you up after the crash," Buck countered.  "People kept sayin' that they thought you were dead."

 

"Obviously, I'm not!" Ezra replied.

 

Nathan just fixed Ezra with his usual no-nonsense look. "Josiah told me all about that.  You scared the life out of that man."

 

"Better him than me!"

 

With that Nathan shook his head and settled in his chair beside the bed.  "I'm just glad that you're both awake and talking.  Now, maybe things can get back to normal around here."

 

"So," said Buck.  "What about the trial?"

 

Nathan shrugged, "Well, Judge Travis decided to reschedule after all that's gone on.  Been some crazy stuff happening."

 

Buck sank back into the pillows.  "That's an understatement.  Did Ezra fill you in on what we know?"

 

"Between him and Josiah, I think we got most of the story."

 

Buck went on, "And you got Rand's men?"

 

Nathan said, "Two of them were able to hide out until after the blast.  I think that spooked 'em and we were able to get 'em.  The one with the broken arm was easy to find.  They admitted that they're the ones that crashed the train and killed the crew."

 

"How'd you manage to get that out of them?" Buck asked

 

"You know how Chris can be.  He found out that Rudolph took his train to Ridge City that morning to talk to the telegraph man, Stevenson.  They'd already planned that Stevenson would be sending messages to get us out of town.  Rudolph just needed to tell him to start sending them.  He didn't know that Carson had sent Benson earlier.  Carson wanted to kill his brother, and used his men, Lew and Bill to do the deed."

 

"And destroy Rudolph's most precious asset at the same time," Ezra filled in.   "The Columbia was a beautiful and expensive machine."

 

"So, did they crash it as a distraction?" Buck questioned.

 

"Apparently it wasn't meant to be," Ezra said. "It was pure vengeance from an unhappy brother.  Stevenson just used it as a reason to send us that note."

 

"And that telegraph man is still on the loose," Nathan said.

 

"They're still out lookin' for him," Ezra told Buck.  "It won't take long.  Lew and Bill gave Chris a good description.  They're sayin' he's the one that blew up the jail.  They didn't know he was still going to do it.  Their last orders were to meet up again in Four Corners."  He yawned. 

 

"We'll find Stevenson," Nathan assured.  "They say he's not really right in the head.  He'll show up eventually."

 

 "And you all figure out why someone took a shot at me?" Buck asked.

 

"Nobody's owned up to sending that man," Nathan said.  "But we're pretty sure that both of the Sahale brothers wanted Carson dead.  They knew he was courting Helen and wanted him gone."

 

"But why was he waiting out there?" Buck asked.  "He couldn't have been there long.  There wasn't any manure around the horse."

 

"Probably was on his way to Cedar Ridge when he spotted you charging in," Ezra decided.  "He had enough time to climb into the rocks and take aim.  It was just bad luck that you were on Carson's horse," Ezra's eyes, much less swollen than they had been the day before, were half shut. "And poor planning on their part because Helen apparently wed Rudolph, not Carson. And both Rands were already dead in any case."

 

Nathan came around the other side of the bed, and put a gentle hand on Ezra's chest.  "That's enough.  You need to get some rest, Ezra.  Buck's awake now, so it's time for you to sleep."

 

Ezra looked up at Jackson defiantly, but the weariness was obvious on his battered face when he glanced to Buck.  Quietly, he muttered, "Your turn to keep our admirable healer on his toes, Buck," and almost immediately his eyes closed and his face smoothed out with sleep.

 

Nathan harrumphed, but he couldn't hide it.  He was pleased as punch with the result of his request.  "He's been awake this whole time, worried about you," Jackson said. 

 

"I'm fine," Buck said.  "Just sore."

 

"And unconscious for quite a while," Nathan added.

 

"He was too!" Buck said, pointed to Ezra, and added sharply, "He's a lot of trouble."   And he checked to see if there was a reaction on that peaceful face.

 

"No end of trouble," Nathan added.

 

Apparently, Ezra was fast asleep, and not taking the bait.  "Has anyone said why they were tryin' to kill him?" Buck asked.  "Seems like they were tryin' awful hard to get that job done."

 

Nathan shrugged.  "According to Lew and Bill, they didn't even know he was on the train when they crashed it.  They found out about it later, so after that,they were trying to tie up loose ends.  They wanted to burn the train cars to hide any evidence that they had been on the train, and Ezra just happened to be inside with Josiah when they set the blaze."

 

"And when they shot at him from Rudolph's hospital room?"

 

"Apparently, it was Bill who shot Rudolph," Nathan said.  "Lew was keeping watch at the window and saw Ezra in the street.  He figured Ezra might've heard some information from Rudolph that'd lead back to them.  They took the chance to get rid of him.  Ezra was just in the way."

 

Buck shook his head against the pillow.

 

Nathan moved around the room, straightening things.  "Everyone's been by to check on you."

 

"JD?  Is he doing better?"

 

"Much better," Nathan assured happily.  "He's pretty much over his stomach problems now.  Oh, and Vin wanted to talk to you.  Somethin' about a Miss Lindsay Lang, and some fancy jewelry."

 

Buck beamed.  "So, she's still happy with the gift?" he asked, feeling smug.  "I knew that'd do the trick.  That should keep Tanner out of my way for a while."

 

"Oh, you done that. Vin says he knows when he's beat."

 

"Smart man."

 

"He said he wouldn't stand in the way when a married couple's happiness is on the line. He's learned his lesson."

 

"Wait… what?"

 

Jackson was smiling widely, enjoying Buck's reaction.  "Marriage.  Vin said that Miss Lang was fixin' to marry you.  Said that she was gonna accept your proposal."

 

"I did no such thing!"

 

"You gave the girl some shiny jewelry," Nathan reminded.

 

Tucked beside him on the bed, Buck could feel Ezra vibrate with suppressed laughter. 

 

"Don't you start!" Wilmington said.  "You're the one that suggested the jewelry!"  And he gave Ezra a jab that drew a sharp gasp out of him.

 

Ezra gave him a wounded look, and then looked to Nathan.  "Mr. Jackson, do you have any other accommodations?  My bedmate is entirely inconsiderate of my needs.  I was trying to sleep."

 

Jackson was chuckling.  "Let Ezra sleep, Buck.  It's his turn.  Besides, you have to figure out how to deal with poor Miss Lang."

 

"Poor Miss Lang," Ezra repeated closing his eyes and resting his hands on his chest.

 

Buck glared at him and considered poking him again, but Nathan waved a finger at him.  "Leave him alone.  And you, should lay back and wait for Chris to show up.  He's gonna want to talk to you about what's been going on.  You can use some more rest."

 

"I'm fine," Buck said.

 

"You took a tumble from a horse and had a jailhouse fall on you," Nathan said.  "You're going to be stuck here with him for a while."

 

It wasn't the worst place in the world, Buck decided.

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

Buck was able to struggle out of bed by mid-day, but Ezra was too exhausted to do much of anything.  He made what appeared to be a valiant attempt to follow, but it took little coaxing from Nathan to get him to remain.

 

"You see," Standish said to Buck.  "I'd go with you but, Mr. Jackson is making things difficult."  And promptly fell back to sleep.

 

Buck waved a goodbye to Nathan.  All things considered, he would have liked some more rest, but this was something he didn't want to miss.

 

Stiff and sore and annoyed, Buck was able to make it down the stairs and headed to the saloon.  As he walked down the street, the hole where the jailhouse had been was a painful reminder of what had happened the previous evening.

 

People could have died.  Friends nearly died.

 

"Buck," Chris greeted when Wilmington came through the saloon doors.

 

"Larabee," Buck returned as he shuffled in.  "Josiah…"

 

"Good to see you, Buck," Josiah said from his spot near the door.  "You're looking better."

 

Chris gave him a nod and turned his attention to the man sitting at the table.

 

The stranger was wearing what was once a nice suit, but now he was disheveled and dusty.  He sat with his hands in front of himself on the table, and his eyes on Larabee.

 

"So this is the guy?" Buck asked as he limped into the room and found a chair across from the man.

 

"George Stevenson," Josiah stated. "The man who wanted to blow us up."

 

Stevenson cringed and said, "It wasn't anything personal, I promise."

 

"You're the telegraph man?" Buck asked.

 

"Mr. Rudolph Rand's personal secretary," Stevenson replied, smoothing his hands onto the tabletop.  "I owe everything I am to that man.  I was his steward aboard the Columbia and performed all administrative duties for Mr. Rudolph Rand at his business, including sending personal messages for him through the wire service."

 

"How'd you catch him?" Buck asked the others.

 

"Wasn't me," Chris replied. 

 

Josiah chuckled.  "It was Winston and his kids."

 

That made Buck smile.  "Our telegraph man?"  He laughed, thinking about whip-thin Winston Juje managing to take down a man.

 

"Stevenson was found at the wire desk, and Juje didn't take to kindly to the intrusion," Josiah explained.

 

"Winston doesn't like anyone messin' with his stuff," Buck said. 

 

"He apparently tackled this man, and then the kids joined in.  They held Stevenson down while the youngest went to fetch us," Josiah said.  "Mr. Stevenson didn't seem too pleased when we found him."

 

"Those children were animals," Stevenson whispered.

 

"He tell you anything yet?" Buck asked.

 

"We were just discussing the messages that he was sending from Ridge City," Josiah said.  "And he's been admitting to all of it."

 

"I did nothing wrong," Stevenson hissed.  "I was doing what I was told."

 

"Benson told you to get Cook out of the train station?" Chris asked as he paced the room.

 

"Yes, well, no," Stevenson said, looking at his hands.  "Benson came to me and said that Mr. Rudolph wanted it done.  I, in turn, sent a note to Mr. Cook.  I do what Mr. Rudolph tells me."

 

"And then the train switch was turned," Josiah led on.  "Was that you?  Or was it Benson?"

 

Stevenson gave him a startled look.  "Mr. Rudolph was on that train!  I'd never do such a thing!  It had to be Benson.  I was at my position all day.  Ask anyone at the telegraph office."  He looked fretful as he muttered.  "How could I do anything to hurt Mr. Rudolph?  How could you even suspect that of me?  Mr. Benson told me that Mr. Rudolph wanted the message sent."

 

"You sent the note to the lawman at the hospital, drawing him away from guarding your Rudolph Rand."

 

Stevenson's face contracted as if in pain, and he lifted a fist to pound it once, pointlessly, onto the table.  "Benson, Mr. Benson said to do it.  He said that Mr. Rudolph wanted it done.  He didn't want a guard.  Benson!  Benson tricked me.  He tricked me into letting Mr. Rudolph get hurt!"

 

When he looked up, his eyes were full of tears.  "They killed him.  Bill and Lew shot him in his bed, didn't they?  Those bastards!  He couldn't move at all, and I hadn't even gone to see him or anything. I should've gone to see him!"  He buried his head in his hands, sobbing.  "They got the train switched because of me, and got the guard away because of me.  Oh, Lord, what have I done?  What have I done!?  I'm so sorry, Mr. Rudolph.  I'm so sorry."

 

The three men watched impassively as Stevenson cried.

 

"And then you blew up the jail, trying to kill folks who done you no harm," Josiah stated.

 

Stevenson's head snapped up. "It was Mr. Rudolph's plan!  It was his plan all along to get you all out of the way, so that he could have his true love and his land.  That's all I was trying to do.  I was just trying to finish what he wanted, to get you all out of the way."

 

"Where did you get the dynamite?" Buck asked, curiously.

 

Stevenson chuckled.  "I got it in Ridge City, days ago!  I got it from a crazy old miner.  He didn't want it anyway, said it was too unstable. I knew it would be perfect for the plan.  Wouldn't take much to set it off, no sir!"

 

"And you rode all the way from Ridge City to Four Corners with unstable explosives in your saddle?" Buck said, his voice rising in disbelief.

 

"I was careful," Stevenson said, hushing his voice.  "I rode softly."

 

Buck exchanged glances with the others, thinking about how easy it would have been for that dynamite to go off while Stevenson was riding toward their home.

 

"You wanted to kill us, the Sahale brothers and Miss Witt?" Josiah asked.

 

Stevenson smiled.  "They'd be together again, then, wouldn't they?  Mr. Rudolph would be with his beautiful Miss Witt.  See, it makes sense. I had to keep going with the plan.  I couldn't stop."

 

"Rudolph figured Miss Witt would be in the jailhouse too?" Josiah asked.  "He wanted her dead from the start?"

 

The telegraph operator nodded, his grin growing wider.  "She could be his forever," he said.  "He said it was the best way to marry.  Then there'd be no question of infidelity.  I thought that sounded funny when he said it to me, but now it all makes sense.  And he'd have the gold and the land and everything he wanted.  Just goes to show what a smart man he is."  And he nodded vigorously.  "Smart and wise and kind to all, that's my Mr. Rudolph Rand!" 

 

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

 

Mr. Benson, the lawyer for the Rands and uncle to Miss Helen Witt, rode the westbound train halfway across the territory before he finally awoke and stumbled off.

 

The telegraph office in Cedar Ridge hadn't been repaired, but he sent word hoping that one of the neighboring towns might receive his message and pass it on to Carson Rand.

 

The law from Four Corners was waiting for him when he arrived at the Cedar Ridge station.  They promptly arrested him for his part in the deaths and injuries caused by the wreck of the Columbia, the burning of the train cars, and the murder of Rudolph Rand.  When he heard that Stevenson had tried to murder his niece along with everyone in the Four Corners jailhouse, he didn't seem that shocked.

 

"They were all out of control," he said.  "I never should have gotten mixed up with this lot."

 

He carried the deeds, the wills, the survey results and the marriage licenses with him.  And he more or less admitted to the misfiling at the City Hall, but completely denied having anything to do with the fire.

 

Ty Sahale had indeed bequeathed his north ranch to his older son Adam, and the south ranch to his younger son Robin.  The deeds to the land proved that the claims were valid.  Benson had had the land surveyed, and requested an assessment done on Robin's gold stake.  They found that someone had salted a long disused mine on Sahale South. 

 

Adam admitted that he'd left the gold there to keep his brother interested in his own property and leave the Sahale North alone.

 

The Sahale brothers owned their own ranches, with no promises of gold.

 

Helen had married Rudolph Rand, but before that, she had secretly married the elder Sahale, Adam.  Before the gold was found, she saw better prospects in him than in Robin.  The younger Sahale, not knowing of that marriage, claimed that she was planning to marry him as well.  Nobody doubted it.

 

To avoid any charges of bigamy, her marriage to the deceased Rudolph would be annulled, and her marriage to Adam would remain valid.

 

Lew and Bill, Carson's men, were locked up to await their trials for the death and destruction that followed them.  Neither of them would accept any responsibility for their actions.  "Carson told us to do it," Bill had said.  "He told us to beat up his brother and crash the train.  Carson just wanted to marry that woman.  When things didn't work out, we had to keep going, keep trying.  It wasn't our fault.  Things just got… out of control."

 

Stevenson just kept repeating that he was following Rudolph's orders, and seemed to believe that the gentleman would be by any time to help him out of his situation.  "Mr. Rudolph will take care of me," he kept saying.

 

All four prisoners had been taken away to Ridge City.  They, at least, had a usable jail.

 

The Sahale brothers forgave each other and dropped their cases.  With the exception of the bridge, they had only damaged each other's property.  They'd pay to rebuild the bridge.

 

Adam was already wed to Helen, and Robin had apparently accepted this fact.  He held his head held high throughout everything, saying that this is exactly what he wanted.  Adam was resigned.  Helen wasn't happy with how things ended up for her. She fussed and fumed and nearly smoked with irritation.

 

Neither brother would claim sending the man who took a shot at Buck.  With a double-branded horse it would be difficult to pin the incident on either of them.  It was quite possible he'd acted on his own volition, just trying to help his boss.  The man remained nameless, and had paid his price.

 

Why had the Cedar Ridge telegraph burned?  When no suspect was found, the culprit was assumed to be Carson, meaning to only burn the City Hall in an attempt to destroy the information stored there.  The files were disarranged, but perhaps he was trying to burn any sign that his brother had wed Miss Witt, so that he might have a chance at her if the murder plot failed.  Benson said that Carson had asked him several times if the papers had been located, and Benson had hid the truth as much as he could.

 

In the end, things settled down.  Cedar Ridge rebuilt its telegraph shack and started work on their new City Hall.  The rest of the Bonneville Hotel was razed in Ridge City, and the beautiful, Mighty Columbia was melted down for scrap.

 

And the jail in Four Corners would need to be rebuilt.  That would take some time.

 

 

*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*(7)*{7}*

 

Buck found Ezra outside of the partially rebuilt Four Corners jail.  Standish had the uncanny ability to disappear every time anyone went to work on the structure, but would find a way back onto the boardwalk once the coast was clear.

 

He was a man that did not care for menial labor.

 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra greeted, setting down his book.  "And how are you on this fine day?"  His face was still slightly discolored, but the bruises had faded to yellows mostly. 

 

Buck fell into the other chair – one of two that someone had maneuvered onto the new section of the boardwalk.  He suspected Josiah of the deed – an enticement to draw Ezra out.

 

"Ezra," Buck said tersely.  "Remind me not to listen to you when it comes to women."

 

Ezra shrugged.  "My advice is always sound.  It's unfortunate that some simply do not know what to do with my good words."  He took a sip from coffee mug and asked, "How did it go with Miss Lang?"

 

"I know women, Ezra!  I don't need any of your sound advice."  He sighed and said, "I don't know how things could've gotten out of control so fast.  Lindsay already started making her wedding dress and invitin' folks to the event.  I'm gonna have a whole passel of folks angry at me for cancelling the party."

 

"People do enjoy a good time."

 

"It wasn't my fault," Buck said.  "She just misunderstood my meanin'.  I blame you."

 

Ezra raised his mug again. "Of course," he responded.  "I'm a believable target."

 

Leaning back, Buck sighed and said, "She's done with me.  I tried to let her down easy, but she was fit to be tied."

 

"Did you run down the list of every good reason why she shouldn't marry a rogue like you?  It must have taken all morning and driven her to a pool of tears, the poor dear."

 

"No," Buck grumbled.  "I simply told her it was a misunderstanding, that the earrings were just meant as a gift and it wasn't a promise of marriage.  I was trying to make her happy…"

 

"… and not ecstatic," Ezra completed.

 

"And she kept the earrings."

 

"Of course.  They were a gift after all, and not a contract for marriage.  They were lovely baubles… shiny."

 

Buck turned his glare on Vin's wagon.  "She went running to Tanner and they went on a picnic.  A picnic, Ezra!  You know what that means!"

 

"A strong possibility of food poisoning?"

 

"She's his girl now!" Buck cried.  "After all my hard work."

 

"You'll get over it," Ezra assured, "the next time the coach comes into town and when you see the next pretty thing step down."

 

Buck nodded quietly, knowing that he was right. 

 

He turned toward Ezra as the gambler rearranged his book.  "What are you readin'?" he asked.

 

Standish picked up the book and looked at the title.  "Just a geological study of this wonderful country."

 

"Light reading?"

 

Ezra smiled and settled his mug on the chair's arm.  "I'm reading the portion about volcanoes.  There are several in this fair land, some of which are still capable of eruption.  It would be tremendous, wouldn't it?  Their massive power would be something to behold."

 

"I think I've seen enough explosions for now," Buck responded.

 

"True," Ezra responded.  "Quite true."  His easy demeanor suddenly changed as he sat up in his chair, and fixed his hat on his head.  "Mr. Wilmington, this has been a charming conversation, but I fear I must be going. Good afternoon, sir."

 

And without waiting for a response, Ezra was on his feet, the book tucked under his arm, and he scooted down the street, to disappear into Potter's store – just missing Josiah who suddenly emerged from the other side of town.

 

Ezra could sure move fast again.

 

"Buck!" Josiah said warmly, toting his tool box with him.  "Are you ready for some good honest labor?  This jail isn't going to build itself." 

 

Buck laughed.  "It's a good day for it."

 

Josiah paused and looked disappointed to find Buck alone on the chairs.  His eyes fixed on the still-steaming mug that sat on the empty chair, and he frowned. "He's always slippin' the lead, isn't he," Sanchez grumbled.

 

 Buck pressed himself to his feet.  "Josiah," he said.  "I'll be happy to help with the buildin', but first, I have to chase down a certain someone who's tryin' to avoid his part in it.  If you'll excuse me."

 

Josiah smiled.  "Don't hurt him, Buck.  We need him capable of holding a hammer."

 

"I won't hurt him… much."

 

"Think you can find him?  He's a wily character and knows all the secret ways through this town."

 

"I'll get him."  And with a tip of his hat, Buck, the intrepid detective, was on the case.



THE END

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