Clockwork  
By NotTasha

PART 6:

The boy gazed down at him from his saddle atop the camel's hump and Ezra stepped back, unsure of the look the creature aimed in his direction.  It looked as if it wanted to spit at him, and it smelled downright awful.

The camel towered over him, unimpressed.

"You okay, mister?" the boy asked.

"I have been better," Ezra admitted.

The kid scrunched up his face.  "Been hit pretty bad, huh?" he said.  "My eye swoll up like that once when my sister come after me for takin' her lead soldiers.  She's powerful strong.  She clobbered me good."

"Nothing quite so harsh happened to me," Ezra told him.

"Your clothes all tore up too, and wet!  Ma would have my skin if I come home like that."

"It sounds like your family is not one to be trifled with," the gambler responded.

"You ain't lyin'!  What you doin' out here, mister," the boy drawled.  "Ain't a good place for nothin'.  Ya ain't tryin' to fish here, are ya?"

"No, not fishing," Ezra responded.  "Not fishing for anything outside of a ride."

"A ride?" the boy shifted and smiled.  "You ever ride a camel, mister?"

"No, never in my life," Ezra replied.  "Although I have had seen with one before, at a circus where I worked for a time, but that was a Bactrian, a two-hump variety of this creature.  But I never really got to know the beast.  I kept my distance, respectfully."

The boy snorted, and gave Ezra odd look.  "Two humps? I cain't see how a thing could be."  He fixed his gaze on his steed, turning his head this way and that, and finally said, "No sir, I don't see how Eloise could have more than one.  T'ain't possible.  It'd be a mighty queer thing if she did, 'cause she's a beautiful thing right now and another hump would make her all lob-sided.  I wouldn't know how to fix the saddle."

Eloise glared at Ezra and blinked her long eyelashes disdainfully.

"She is a lovely creature," Ezra told him, trying not to breathe through his nose.

"Best ever!" the boy said.  He leaned far over, looking as if he was in danger of toppling from his perch, but he was apparently familiar with how to handle the saddle.  "M'name is Uriah.  How about you?"

Ezra carefully accepted Uriah's outstretched hand, keeping an eye on the camel's suspicious expression.  "Ezra," he said, "Ezra Standish."

"You been in a circus?"

"For a time."

"You seen elephants?"

"Indeed I have!" Ezra replied brightly.

"They got nothin' on camels," Uriah told him.

Ezra nodded sagely. "It is difficult to find a match to them.  Where did you get such a fine creature as this?" he asked.

"My papa was in the Camel Corps back before the war and figured that camels is better than horses in every way."  The boy sat up tall and proud in his saddle.  "Better than mules or donkeys or even dumb elephants."

Ezra wasn't so sure of Uriah's pronouncement.  The camel looked downright hideous.  "Your father is a wise man," Ezra conceded.  "Wise and generous. He wouldn't leave a man alone in the desert, if I am not mistaken."

"My papa 's the best man ever!" the boy exclaimed.  "But he ain't no fool.  Where you goin'?"

"Bernard," Ezra responded.  "A soon as I can reach it."

"That's a distance," the kid declared.  "How much you aim to pay?"

"How much do you believe such a ride is worth?"

"$10!" the boy tried out the exorbitant amount hopefully.

Ezra's hand brushed at his torn pocket.  "I'm afraid that I'm short on funds at the moment.  Perhaps we can work up a trade?"

Uriah looked thoughtful and his gaze fixed on the pile of items from the crate.  He pulled a switch from his saddle and twitched it at his camel's knees, "Down, Ellie. Down you go."  And Eloise complied with a sigh and a strange honking sound.   Her legs folded under her and the boy easily leapt down from the high hump when her belly rested on the ground.

"What you got?" Uriah asked, moving toward the pile left from the crate.

Eloise swiveled her long neck to keep an eye on Ezra.  The gambler backed away from her, trying to smile disarmingly.

The camel didn't seem to be buying it.

Once he was clear, Ezra turned to the boy.  "There's plenty here to delight a young man such as yourself," he said, as he maneuvered closer to his belongings.  "Is there anything -- outside of this clock and chest -- that catches your eye?"

"Why not the clock and chest?" Uriah asked, giving the items a quick appraisal.

"They're for my mother," Ezra explained, "and I cannot part with them."

"Fair enough," the boy said as he squatted beside the other items.  He picked up the snow globe and tipped it back and forth, watching the way the snow just seemed to flutter down inside.  He frowned.  "What's this good for?"

"In all honesty, nothing," Ezra responded.

Next Uriah spotted the stuffed squirrel.  He looked alarmed and disturbed.  He gave Ezra an accusing look.

"Let me declare now," Ezra said, "that does not belong to me."

Uriah finally picked up the leather pouch.  He hefted it in his hand, and then opened it.  A smile lit his face.

"Perhaps," Ezra said, leaning over him, "You will accept this bag of marbles in exchange for a ride to Bernard on the lovely Eloise?  Would that be agreeable?"

The boy looked up at him.  The smile told Ezra everything he needed to know.  JD might lose his marbles, but at least he might be able to keep all his fingers.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

Riding a camel was nothing like riding a horse, Ezra decided.  It was more like riding in a boat – like riding in the crows-nest of a boat – a boat that smelled terribly.

He sat in the huge saddle, behind the boy, the blanket wrapped around him as if he were a Bedouin.  He thanked his luck stars that he wasn't the type to get seasick.

Eloise loped across the desert, quicker than Ezra thought possible.  Her legs had an uncanny way of moving that didn't seem quite right – more like a cat than a horse.

The boy talked as they rode, he talked almost non-stop, detailing the wonders of camels and the short-sightedness of the US Government in abandoning the Camel Corp. 

"Papa said it was 'cause of Jefferson Davis," Uriah said.  "Said the whole project was tainted 'cause no one wanted to support nothin' that a Reb started up, 'cause no one likes Rebs.  Then the War put an end to everything good and people stopped thinkin' about camels.  Were using horses and mules for everythin' and completely kept the camels out of it.  My papa says, they should've sent a whole cavalry of camels after the Rebs.  That'd send 'em runnin'.  Everyone would be ridin' them now if it weren't for that war and the damn Rebs causin' us all to hate Jeff Davis."

"It's obvious," Ezra responded, doing his best to keep his seat.

"'Course," Uriah went on, "Camels and horses is like cats and dogs.  Don't know a horse that can stand the sight of a camel. They're no damn good that way.  A horse would sooner run off than let a camel near 'em.  Flighty and silly things.  Don't have the grace and smarts of a camel.  Papa says only mules is worse. "

"I have never been fond of them," Ezra said, "Mules, that is.  They are rather mule-headed."

Uriah laughed as if the statement was actually funny.  Mostly, he seemed to appreciate the mule maligning comment. 

"Perhaps, " Ezra said, "horses might become used to camels in time, if they were allowed to become accustomed to these most graceful and elegant creatures?"

"Might," Uriah conceded.  "I say that horses is just jealous."  And he gave a resolute nod to his thought. "Camels is the best animal ever for the desert.  They drink once and don't need nothin' more for days.  They don't sweat like a horse and can eat just about anythin'.  More surefooted than a horse, that's for sure."

Uriah continued to tick off all the reasons that camels were superior to horses, and Ezra made sounds of agreement, though his opinion was far from concurrence.

No sir, he appreciated the ride to Bernard, but he didn't need to ever be near such a foul-smelling, disagreeable-looking beast again.

Eloise kept turning its head and staring at him as if she wanted to spit right in his face.

They avoided White Rock and made a beeline to Bernard.

"They's graceful.  Mules are the ugliest things on earth and ain't got a tick of grace in 'em.  Don't know how no one can stands 'em.  Horses don't look right.  Eloise sure is pretty."

"Camels do have a regal beauty about them," Ezra commented.

Uriah gave him a big grin.  "Yeah, they do!" he agreed.

Eloise kept up her jaunty trot, and the riders swayed this way and that.

"You worked at the circus?" the boy said again.  "One came through here once and they had all sorts of nonsense there, but no camel.  They had elephants, but who needs to see that?  Didn't seem worth buyin' a ticket if they didn't even have a camel.  Maybe if they had one of those two-hump-ers and I could 'ave gone to see if such a thing were true. I won't believe it though 'til I sees it."

The camel kept jogging. 

Ezra glanced behind him to the chest that was strapped on the saddle – inside it was crammed the puzzle box, and what remained of JD's purchases.  It made a tight fit, and the stuffed squirrel suffered for it.  It was now separated from the rocking chair, and the arms were too bent to allow for book-reading, but it still held the pipe in its frantically-clenched jaws. The clock was lashed to the top of the chest because there just wasn't enough room.

Uriah looked over his shoulder and said, "There it is!  There's Bernard."

And Ezra sighed, glad to have the town finally in sight.  He fished JD's watch out of his pocket and checked the time.  It was still good.  He'd make it back before the deadline.

"See!  We made it fast!  Eloise is the best!" the boy added, grinning.  "She's the best ever."  He slapped her neck in admiration and she made a warbling sound.

"Yes," Ezra said.  "I am eternally grateful for your help, for both of you.  You have certainly gotten me out of a fix."

The kid kept jabbering away as the town drew nearer, until he slowed the camel to a trot and finally drew her to a stop.

"Uriah, my friend, what is wrong?" Ezra asked, a little alarmed at the cease in motion.  Bernard was still a distance away.

Uriah shook his head. "I cain't take you no further. There's brambles and stuff.  Eloise don't like 'em.  And then, like I said, camels and horses don't mix good and papa told me not to go near town."

"Well, what do you care?" Ezra tried.  "So, you frighten a few horses, they're not as good as camels anyway.  What does it matter if they go charging off as you go chargin' in?"

Uriah smiled obviously pleased at that thought, but he shook his head again.  "There's folks that'd shoot a camel on sight.  Sons of bitches, they are!  I ain't riskin' my Eloise," he said resolutely.  "'Sides, I need to head home.  Ma will start fussin' if I'm gone too long.  I tol' her I was goin' for a ramble, but she 'spects me home 'fore dinner."

Well, it had been too good to be true – and Ezra still had the time to make that walk and arrive at his appointed meeting time.  He really wasn't much of a 'walker'.  He looked about, wondering if someone else was nearby who could offer him a ride.

Before the boy could use his switch to make Eloise kneel, Ezra stilled his hand.

"Could you, would you, perhaps… drop me off over there?" he asked, and pointed northward, to where an empty windmill tower broke the otherwise empty scenery.  "I would be much obliged," he added with a grin.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

The boy was a hard bargainer, and when he turned Eloise to head toward his Ma and Papa, Uriah had not only JD's marbles, but the tiny rocking chair as well.  Apparently his mother fashioned old-lady dolls out of carved, dried apples, flour sack dresses and corn husks – the little rocking chair would be the perfect place to display her latest creation.

The blanket went with him as well, a reward to Eloise.  It would look lovely under her huge hump-saddle and she deserved it.  Besides, it was still a bit damp and Ezra didn't want to deal with it.

And Ezra had to lighten his load.

He watched Uriah and Eloise go.  The boy stopped the camel at one point and turned toward him.  He waved.  Ezra waved back.  The gambler could have sworn that the camel gave him the stink-eye.

The boy kicked the camel and turned her.  Eloise continued on her rolling pace.

Once Ezra was certain they were gone, and no one else was about to see him -- he turned, and with his back to the empty windmill tower – he headed north, swaying as he stiffly moved.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

The cave wasn't easy to find.  Liam had had enough presence of mind to cover it with sagebrush, but after a certain amount of searching, Ezra finally found it.  He dragged the tumbleweeds out of the way and peered within.  The cave was a dark and deep hole.

After thinking a moment, Ezra opened the chest and found JD's travel lamp.  It took a moment to set up, but once lit, would work perfectly for exploring the cave.  Thankfully, matches had been stored in the base.

Ezra smiled at his good fortune and crawled into the hole with the light.  The cave was low and he had to crouch.  He hoped that no creatures had decided to make their home in its depths.  He didn't need any new surprises.

He scrabbled onward, holding the lamp out in front of him, aware of all his abused muscles.  This was not a good idea, he reminded himself.  He was under a deadline, and there was truly no reason to make this exploration, but he really couldn't help himself.

There were untold riches involved.

Finally, he reached the end of the natural cave, and a shape formed in the darkness.  He held out the light to get a clear view and found a box.

A strongbox.

A locked strongbox.

Damn.

He glared at it, and the huge padlock that kept the strongbox fastened shut.  It was a formidable looking thing.  If he had his lock-picking tools, he could probably pop it in a minute or so, but he'd lost the set in the river.  He could probably fashion something else.  There were wires in that squirrel to keep it in position, but he honestly didn't want to start taking that thing apart to get at those pieces of metal.

He tried to lift the box, but it was heavy.  He could pull it out of the hole, but he wasn't certain that he wanted to do that just yet.

He rested his head in his hands as the little lantern flickered and the strongbox remained damnably locked.  This was doing no good whatsoever.

He pulled the cheap watch from his pocket and checked the time.  He had to begin his walk to town.  He'd only been curious about the cache. There was nothing wrong in wanting to take a peek at the wealth, to hold it in his hands, to just, for a moment, pretend it was his.

That wasn't asking a lot, was it?

He only wanted to see what was here before he gave it all away – gave it all back to the men who'd performed such horrible deeds.

Liam had worked hard to keep them from it, and he had died for it, as had the drummer Jenkins and the shop owner, Lucky Pete. It hardly seemed right that he should hand it all back.

He could think of plenty of uses for that sort of wealth and for a moment his mind spun, considering it.

If he only had the key, he'd have the strongbox open in a moment without having to move it anywhere.  It seemed odd that Liam had given Claire everything she needed except for this key.  The chest's delicate key definitely wouldn't work in this big iron strongbox.

Why? Why didn't he give her key to this lock as well?

But, what if he did?

He slapped his forehead, wincing and swearing as he was reminded of the bruises and scrapes there.  "Damn fool!" he growled and scrambled his way out of the cave, back to the chest.

He pulled out the puzzle box, and he quickly ran through the movements to free the lid.  Once that was out of the way, he pressed this way and that on the sides of the puzzle, until one side finally gave – sliding upward – revealing a tiny hidden drawer beneath the inner chamber.

How could he have forgotten?  Some puzzle boxes, the good ones, hid a drawer in the base.

He pulled the drawer open to the happy trill of a chime.  It was meant to sound like a bird call, and used the same sort of tines that a music-box to create a tune.  He couldn't have been happier to hear that little sound.

Within the drawer, above the pretty inlayed wood image of a bird, was a shape wrapped in a handkerchief –and within the piece of cloth was a heavy iron key.  

PART 7:

JD waited.  JD waited as patiently as he was able. His arms hurt from being tied behind the chair, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to try these men.

He'd learned their names over the past hours -- Fulshear was the blond man with the broken nose.  Darrow was the tall man with the ugly face.  Marvin Harris was the man in charge.

Harris was dangerous -- very dangerous.

JD kept his head down, doing his best to be ignored.  The little mongrel curled up near his feet, asleep.  Her chest rose and fell and she made little contented sighs, overjoyed to be inside and settled beside someone's chair.  She had followed him here, and the men apparently thought the dog was his.  They were keeping it captive, too, just in case they could hold that over Ezra's head as well.

When they first arrived at their destination, they'd attempted to put a rope around the terrier's neck, but she'd bounded away, bouncing and jouncing and avoiding their attempts to corral her, until they just let her be.  Then, she just settled beside Dunne and seemed happy.

JD had always figured that if he had a little dog, he'd name her Sadie.

After he'd been captured, and dragged up the stairs to this place -- Fulshear and Darrow left to find Ezra.  They came back – Fulshear moving gingerly and sporting a bloodied nose.  They let Harris know that Ezra didn't have what they wanted.  They'd let him fetch the items and bring them back –they'd used JD's life and well-being to make him do it.

They'd tried to follow the gambler, but lost him.

Standish had until 3pm.  After that, they'd start carving out pieces of JD Dunne.  Harris had looked at him then, his eyes cold and cruel – and JD had no doubts that this man was capable of such horror.  He glanced to the table beside him where a huge, ugly knife waited beside a hatchet.

The young man tried not to think about how close that time was now.  It was rather impossible to ignore.

The mantle clock and the chest -- what was so important about them?  There was nothing inside except for the key and those love letters.  JD puzzled over it and was unable to come up with a reason why these men were so insistent on getting the things.

They'd questioned him, of course, but he'd cried over and over, "I don't know!  Ezra didn't tell me if he opened the chest or not.  He doesn't tell me anything!"  Apparently his show was believable, because they'd just looked disgusted and left him alone.

He hoped Ezra was okay.  The conman had been gone for a long time.  He glanced to the spiral stairway at the center of the room, and wondered when Ezra would come.

Because Ezra would return – JD had no doubt about it.  The question was, would he get back in time?

Ezra had five minutes.  JD glanced to the backside of the town's clock. It made up a good part of the wall beside him in the clock tower.  The time was impossible to ignore. 

Harris sat on a chair near him.  Fulshear and Darrow paced the catwalk that ringed the outside of the clock tower. He could hear their measured paces.

And all around him, the tick-tock of the clock sounded like a heartbeat.

There were no bells within the tower.  Certainly, they'd be deaf by now if that was the case.  But the endless tick, tick, tick, counting down his mortality, was about to drive him insane.

"You see him yet?" Harris asked when Darrow passed the door.

"Not yet," Darrow responded darkly.  "Don't think he's going to make it in time."

"Pity," Harris responded, picking up his knife from the table. He ran a thumb over its edge and fixed his gaze on JD.  "I do appreciate promptness."

JD swallowed and said, "He's comin'.  He'll be here."  The dog lifted her head at his voice and thumped her tail on the wooden floor.

Harris stood, moving menacingly toward him.  JD gripped the arms of the chair and the dog growled.

"He was told what would happen if he was late," Harris stated coldly as he came closer.  "I always keep my word, even though there are those that don't."

"Five minutes!" JD insisted.  "There's still five minutes!"

Harris drew his gaze away from the young man to glance at the huge clock.  "I 'spect your right," he said, but he didn't move away.  "No sense in wasting time."  He grabbed JD's tied wrist and flattening his palm against the arm of the chair.

JD felt his breath quicken as Harris fixed his hand, forcing the index finger out.  The dog's growl increased and she got to her feet, hackles raised.

"Five minutes!" JD squeaked.

"More like four now," Harris said with a thick laugh.  And the clock kept ticking.

JD swallowed, listening to the sound of Darrow and Fulshear pacing the catwalk outside, hearing the deep throated growl of the little dog, and the steady tick of the clock as time passed.  Harris didn't release his grip.

Gears ground and the minute-hand clicked again.

"Three," Harris purred.

"He's coming!" JD insisted.  "He'll be here!"

"There!" Fulshear suddenly shouted.  "There's that son of a bitch! He's walking up Main Street!  He's got the stuff!"

Thank God! JD thought.  Oh thank God!

"Get him," Harris ordered, not releasing JD's hand from its position.

Fulshear and Darrow moved from the catwalk and down the stairway to the street level, neither seemed to be in a huge hurry.  It took them a long time to walk down those stairs.

JD's breath was coming in pants as the huge minute hand cranked again.  Tears formed in the corners of his eyes.  Harris watched the clock, looking gleeful.

"Two," Harris crooned as he leaned close, his breath stinking of chewing tobacco.  "I rather doubt they'll be able to get back in time, don't you?"

"He's coming!" JD cried.  "He's here! He's here… in town… just… give him time to get up here!" Hurry, Ezra! he thought.  Please, please, please, hurry!

The clock kept ticking.  Seconds passed.  Gears ground and the massive hand moved again.

"One," Harris whispered into JD's ear and he moved the knife, bringing it until the blade touched the base of JD's finger.

"Please… please, don't," JD begged.  "He's here.  Please, don't do this."  He couldn't help but count the seconds that droned around them.  10, 20, 30….  The clock seemed to collect itself as the minute- and hour-hand prepared to move into the 3:00 position.

JD whimpered.  Harris pressed down hard on his wrist, using his weight to hold JD still and to give him the leverage he needed. With the other hand, he put the tip of the knife in position, prepared to see-saw it down on JD's pinned finger.

"Please!" JD cried. "Let me go."

"No," Harris said simply.

And JD tried to prepare himself for the horrible dismemberment, sucking in his breath and tightening his muscles uselessly.

There was a roar of a bark and the little rat terrier launched herself at Harris.

Marvin let out a shout of pain as needle sharp teeth tore at his leg.  He kicked, sending the snarling dog flying.  Sadie flew, twisting like a cat so that she hit the wall feet-first and she ricocheted.   Toe nails skittered as hit the floor and she caught her balance.  Her teeth were bared, promising extreme violence.

She snapped, snarled and lunged at Harris, sidestepping his foot that tried to punt her.

"Son of a bitch!"  Harris howled as he lashed the knife, but Sadie skittered, darting out the door and onto the catwalk.

"I'm gonna kill that cur of yours!" Harris shouted as he leaned over JD, brandishing his knife at the bound man's throat.

The dog's head appeared at the door and she yapped loudly at the man, but ducked back out before could do anything about it. 

"Stupid bitch!" he shouted at her.

And then there were the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading up to the tower, quick footsteps.  JD held his breath as Ezra's head suddenly appeared as he ran up.  He looked bruised and battered and disheveled.  One eye was nearly closed – the other was topped by an unpleasant looking cut.

What had happened to him!

The gambler looked around the space and then caught JD's gaze.   "Lovely locale," he said blithely, apparently ignoring the enraged man with the knife.

Ezra carried the chest with the clock and puzzle box stacked atop.  His clothing was torn, and his trouser legs were totally in tatters.  And JD wasn't sure, but it looked as if the stuffed squirrel, smoking a tiny pipe, was peeking out of his one intact jacket pocket.

"You're late!" Harris declared, pointing the knife at the gambler as he came clear of the stairs.  "The boy's going to lose a digit or two because of you!"  And he turned to Dunne, getting into position to make good on his threat.

JD sucked in a breath in horror.

"That clock is wrong," Ezra pointed out.  "Everyone knows it."  He stepped clear of the spiral stairs, letting Darrow and a very unhappy looking Fulshear follow.  Setting the stack of containers at his feet, he pulled JD's watch from his pocket.  "See," he said.  "Here's proof.  This clock is ten minutes fast.  I am ahead of time.  The boy gets to keep all of his parts."

Darrow frowned.  "I thought it was slow,” he commented.

Fulshear shook his head.  "Runs fast some weeks then goes slow others."

Harris ignored them and seemed to accept Ezra's proof.  "Cutting it rather close," he said, setting the knife on the table.

Ezra looked chagrinned.  "Cutting was what I was trying to avoid," he said with a nod toward Dunne.  "I had some difficulty with a field of sagebrush and cactus on my return trip," he admitted as he gestured to his tattered pants.  "It took longer than I thought to extricate myself. But I did manage to catch up with Mr. Ainsworth and retrieved what he'd purchased from me."  He indicated the pile at his feet.   "And here they are!  Exactly as you requested -- with everything in them.  Well, except this."

Ezra smiled broadly. "I think this is what you're looking for," he said, holding out the puzzle box.  Fulshear snatched it from his grip and brought it to Harris.

"What the hell is this?" Harris asked, turning the pretty block in his hands.

"I think it's a puzzle box," Ezra told him.  "Chinese or something.  You have to figure out how to open it. There's a trick to it."  Harris did not look impressed.  "Truly," Ezra continued.  "Shake it. You can hear that something is inside.  I tried to figure it out, but failed miserably."

Harris shook the box, and something rattled.  As Darrow and Fulshear kept their weapons trained on Ezra, Harris tried to open the box, but it had no hinges, no door, and no apparent lid.

He glared at Ezra.

Ezra shrugged.  "I think you need to move the little slats around."  He jiggled his thumbs in pantomime.  "I wasn't able to do it."  He looked apologetic and sincere.

Fulshear gestured at him.  "Get your hands up!" he ordered.  Ezra complied.  "Stay right where you are!"

From the other side of the room, JD watched Ezra.  He wished they were closer, but the spiral stairs, with the clock's weight-well in the center, separated them entirely.  Fulshear obviously wasn't going to let Standish get any nearer."

Harris tugged at the sides of the box, pressed at them, pulled and finally was able to get the first slat to slide to the side, but nothing else moved.  Growling, he slammed it down on the table near JD and picked up a hatchet.

JD cringed, closing his eyes.  From the catwalk, Sadie growled, her toothy muzzle just visible in the doorway. 

Harris raised the hatchet over his head and Ezra watched with an intense gaze.  The hatchet swung and came down violently, shattering the pretty little box.

Unable to restrain himself, JD shouted a surprised, "Eeep!"

"Effective," the gambler commended.

Harris smashed at the box again, further shattering it and then he tossed the hatchet in the corner. Intricate pieces were broken to kindling.

Fulshear kept his gun aimed at Ezra while Darrow moved near his boss.

"Is it in there?" the tall man asked breathlessly.

From the debris, Harris drew out the packet of letters, frowning a little.  "They're moist," he complained.

Ezra sighed.  "I fell in a river.  It couldn't be helped."

And JD gave Ezra curious look.  It was a cold day, and Ezra did look as if he might have been underwater at some point – rumpled from head to foot.

 Harris and Darrow quickly made their way through the letters, finding the one that was different from the rest.   "That's Liam's handwriting, all right," Darrow said.  "It's the same as that letter that the sheriff brung us."

Harris flicked at something on the page, and they started reading.

The clock kept up its heartbeat ticking as they read the pages.  Their expressions changed – Harris' face darkened with anger, while Darrow's took on a different expression –perhaps one of shame.

Fulshear kept his gaze on Ezra – kept his pistol aimed at his head. "That it?" the blond asked Harris.  "Is that what you were looking for?"

Harris poked at the broken box, finding the iron key.  "This is it," he answered.  "Everything we need."

"Good," Fulshear responded, his gaze growing sharper and crueler.  "Goodbye, gambler."

And the door below burst open.  "Where is he!" an enraged voice shouted.  "Where is that son of a bitch?"

Fulshear switched his aim from Ezra to the top of the stairs.   Harris and Darrow mirrored him, and Ezra wisely edged way from the stairway.  JD, tied, could do nothing but watch.

"Stop that!" Fulshear ordered, and Ezra complied with a most innocent expression.

The voice from below shouted, "Where is that son of a bitch horse thief!?  I saw him!  I saw him come in here!"

Harris and Darrow exchanged a confused look, but Ezra sighed.  He flashed JD an inscrutable look, and moved further from the stairs.

PART 8:

From the bottom of the stairs, the voice yelled, "I know you're up there, horse thief?  You're gonna hang for what you've done!"

JD watched Ezra who drew himself up a few inches and called, "I wish to apologize for that moment of impropriety."

"You son of a bitch!" was the angry retort.  "You have any idea how much that animal is worth?  You don't just take a man's horse and expect to live!  You're trapped.  You ain't gettin' away."

Fulshear glared at Ezra and shouted down, "We'll take care of him for you."

"What's going on up there?" another voice called from below.  "That you, Gareth?"

"Quiet!  The thief's confessing," said another.  Apparently the horse owner had brought his own posse.  "Let him speak!"

Ezra continued, "Far be it for me to take away one's steed, but the matter was pressing.  Time was wasting.  There was little else I could do.  I aim to return him to you."

"Where is he?" the first voice shouted.   "What did you do with Zeus?  I swear to God, if any harm has come to him, I'll skin you alive!"

Harris chuckled, his gaze on Ezra.  He seemed delighted with the idea.  Fulshear and Darrow kept their aim on the stairwell, ready for what might come next.

The gambler kept his arms raised and shrugged at Harris.  "The horse should be in good hands at the moment."

"Send down that lily-livered thief!" the horse owner yelled.

"We aim to keep him," Harris responded.  "Maybe we'll skin him for you."

"The hell you will!"  And then the stairway echoed with the sound of footsteps.

"They're coming up!" Darrow shouted.  "Sons of bitches are coming up!"

"Your horse is in White Rock," Ezra called down.  "And what a fine beast he is.  You should be proud to own such a noble creature."

"White Rock!" the owner echoed.  "What is he doing in White Rock?"

"I needed to catch the train before it continued on," Ezra told them.  "He moves like the wind, like water over stone, like sunlight.  He is truly amazing. You should be proud to own such a great animal."

The footsteps paused and one of the voices said in an amazed tone, "Zeus made it to White Rock before the morning train left that station?"

"Nearly," Ezra told him.  "The train was just leavin' as we caught sight of it.  We were able to catch it on the fly."

"Zeus caught up to the train when it was moving?"  The owner sounded puffed up with pride.

"At speed," Ezra added.

"Told you he was fast!"

"I wasn't doubting you, Del," one of the other voices stated.  "But I saw when that no-account gambler took off on Zeus.   They had to have flown to have caught the train."

"Why would I lie?" Ezra asked.

Fulshear sneered, looking as if he could come up with many reasons.

"Zeus could have done it," Del said resolutely and repeated, "I told you he was fast."

Harris seemed confused about the change in the conversation, not quite sure about what to do next.   Finally, he shouted, "He's here!  Your horse thief is right here."  He trained his gun again on Ezra.  "We got him covered.  You can come get him."

"Who's up there?"  The first man was nearly to the top of the stairs. "Is that Marvin?  Who else?"

"Why," Ezra drawled, "Besides myself and an innocent young man, there's a trio of murdering thieves."

Fulshear growled, "You shut up now!" he ordered.

"Their names are Darrow, Harris and Fulshear," Ezra went on. "I believe they are known to you?"

The first man reached the top of the spiral stairs that lay between JD and Ezra.  He peered in, seeing Ezra, and then the group on the other side of the room.  "Gareth, Marvin?"  Del called. "Joe?  What's he talking about?"

Ezra kept talking, "They killed a poor traveling salesman, a local named Liam Dunkirk and the owner of store – Lucky Pete."

"Papa?" Del's tone changed entirely.  "Marvin?  You killed my Pa?"  And he focused immediately on the man in charge, his forehead furrowing in building rage.

"Don't believe him!" Harris stated.  "He's a worthless lair."

Gareth's face was twisted.  "Yeah, he's just a traveling gambler who steals horses! He's the one who killed them!  He killed them all!"

"You gonna trust him before you trust us?" Darrow added.  "You know us, Del.  You can't trust this one.  Just  look at him!"

JD saw Ezra's expression tighten a little at that comment. Standish spoke, his voice low and clear, "And how well can you truly trust these men?" he asked.   "You know them, but do you trust them?"  And he glanced to Harris.

JD remembered how quickly Del had focused on Harris.  His gaze hadn't dropped.

Another man appeared at the top of the stairs and gazed in.  He spoke in a haunted voice, "I always thought Marvin knew something about Liam.  My God, Marvin?  You killed Liam and Pete?"

Marvin Harris jerked his head as if stung, and aimed a deadly look at Ezra "You'll die for this, you son of a bitch!"

The gambler jumped through the door to the catwalk just as Harris fired.  The bullet impacted the doorframe and Marvin swore loudly.  He moved to follow Ezra.

JD struggled against his bonds, trying desperately to stop the man before he went after Ezra.

 Del, his face lit with rage, shouted, "Stay where you are, Marvin!"

But Harris didn't stop, and Del fired.  Whether he meant to only scare the man, or stop him, he hit his target.

Marvin never saw it coming.  He jerked to a stop, clutching his gut. 

Del kept his weapon leveled at Harris.  "You killed my Pa?" he said again.  "Tell me it ain't so, Marvin."

But Marvin didn't respond.  He took two drunken steps toward Del, and strength left him, and he fell near the top of the stairs.

Darrow and Fulshear, momentarily stunned by the turn of events, turned their guns on Del.  Del and his friends returned the favor from the stairwell.  As they opened fire, the whistle of the train from White Rock could be heard.

JD, horrified by what was happening, glanced to Ezra.  Standish stood in the catwalk doorway, looking frustrated as he gauged the distance between them, trying to figure out how to get through the gunfire to JD. 

He couldn't make it – not with the stairs between them – not with the bullets flying.  He gave JD an apologetic look, and then edged forward as if he meant to dive right into the gunfire to get to him.

Hell with that!  JD had to do what he could to make himself a smaller target.  He kicked at the floor as hard as he could with his bound legs.  The chair started to tip backward.  He threw his weight with it, and pulled his chin to his chest just as the chair back slammed on the floor.

Fulshear and Darrow flung over the table.  The remains of the puzzle-box and the love letters went flying, and JD flinched as Harris' knife landed inches from his face.

Gareth and Joe pulled the table to the far side of the room, making a barricade, and thankfully drawing the gunfire away from JD and to the far side of the room.

Suddenly, something grabbed him, and JD twisted to find Ezra yanking his chair backward and out of the room, Harris' knife clenched in his teeth.  The table had blocked enough of Fulshear and Darrow's view to hide them, and apparently Del and his crew weren't that interested in them at the moment.

The gunfire continued and someone hit the clockworks.  It sent out a loud WANG and everyone ducked as as the spring busted and the whole business shuddered.  The endless ticking suddenly ceased.

Ezra pulled the knife from his teeth and quickly cut JD's bonds.  "We need to go, JD," Ezra said succinctly.

JD sat up and rubbed his arms.  "Yeah," he said.  "Good idea."  He glanced about.  The street below the clock was empty of people.  They had either scattered at the sound of gunfire, or had gone to meet the train.   The plume of smoke and steam left no question that the train was at the station.

On the other side of the tower – was the roof of the City Hall.

Ezra leaned, grasping hold of the chest and the gold clock that were just inside the room.  He dragged them onto the catwalk with them.  The little dog sniffed at Ezra's pocket and gave a little growl at the stuffed squirrel that peeked out at her.

"Move it, JD" Ezra said.  "And take this with you."  He jammed the chest into JD's arms as Ezra picked up the clock.

JD looked confused.  "Aren't we done with these?" he asked.

Ezra pointed.  "Quick, before they resolve their differences, run out of bullets, or kill off one side of the argument.  Onto the roof!"

JD hefted the heavy chest and hurried to the other side of the clock tower.  It was a good eight feet from the catwalk to the hall's roof.  He set down the chest and swung his feet over the edge, and then his body.  He hung for a moment before he dropped.

It took two stuttering steps to catch his balance.  He turned to Ezra who was on his belly, lowering the chest to him, and then the clock.

"My dog!" JD shouted.

"Your dog?" Ezra returned incredulously.

"I ain't leaving her!  They'll kill her."

Ezra sighed then, twisted, and a moment later handed the terrier down.   Sadie snarled at the handling, but the stuffed squirrel, jammed in her mouth, kept her from snapping.

She whimpered a little as she reached JD's hands, and seemed glad to have her feet set on a solid surface again.  She scampered happily at JD's side, worrying the squirrel's body in her jaws.

Ezra dropped next, landing with a weary groan.  "Go!" he said to JD, pointing to the far side of the roof.

The gunfire changed, and JD realized that the fight was moving down the stairway.  And suddenly, the combatants were heard in the street.  Fulshear was yelling, telling Del to put down his weapon.  He'd apparently gotten a hold of someone and was using him as a shield.

"Drop it or he dies!"

A whistle blew at the train station.

"Ezra!" JD whispered urgently.  "What do we do?"

"We get off the roof!" Ezra told him, pointing again to the other side of the building.

JD moved.  The voices of Fulshear, Del and Darrow drifted further from them. 

The two men and one small dog scrabbled across the rooftop, each carrying their own load, and they reached the back of the building.  From there, they jumped to a balcony and then dropped again to the ground.   Sadie became less annoyed with being picked up at each turn.

And finally, they were in the courtyard behind the City Hall.  JD grinned widely. "We got away!" he cried.  Sadie looked at him in admiration, still gnawing at the squirrel.  The squirrel continued with its smoking habit.  "Ezra, we did it!  It was easy!"

"We're not free yet," Ezra said with a sigh.  He rested his hands on his knees and looked tired to the bone.  "We still need to make it clear of this hell hole.  We need to get our horses and return to Four Corners."

"Livery is just over there," JD said cheerfully.  "And it sounds like everyone has moved down that a-way.  Not a lot of people in the street.  No problem.  We're almost home!"

"You ain't going nowhere!" a voice snarled.

JD spun about to face the Marvin Harris.

Harris trained a gun at him with a shaking hand.  "You think you're so smart!" he rasped.  "I heard you.  I heard you jump down on the roof.  You're not getting away from me…. not me…"  He licked his lips and wavered as the whistle blew again. 

Far away, someone shouted "All aboard!"

"Sir," Ezra said, "I think you may want to sit down now.  Perhaps it would be best if you…"

Harris switched his aim and pulled the trigger.  Ezra spun away.   JD leaped at the man before he could fire again, slamming him down on the ground.  The gun flew.

Sadie jumped on the outlaw's foot, biting at the leather of his boot.  The whistle blew again.

Harris struggled, but JD kept him pinned, throwing all his weight on the man.  "You ain't going!" JD yelled, doing his best to stay away from the man's bloody chest.

Marvin growled, but the fight was already fleeing him.  He gasped for breath.  His muscles had no strength.

"Stop movin'!" JD ordered.  "Stop movin'!  You're under arrest!"

Harris made one last attempt to free himself, to get the dog off his foot at least, but even that wasn't to be.  The light just faded from his eyes. 

He stilled, and he moved no more.

JD stopped trying to subdue the man as soon as he realized what had happened.  He stared at the man's face, seeing the truth of the matter and then jumped to his feet.  With a nervous motion, he swept at his clothing as if he could wipe away any lingering reminders of the man's passing.

"We got him, Ezra," JD said, toeing Sadie way from the man's boot.  The moment JD stopped pushing her, she shot back to her place and continued growling and gnawing.   JD prodded her away again, but when she didn't get the message.  JD found the battered squirrel, and put it in front of her.

Sadie abandoned the boot and went for the squirrel.  She gave it a hard shake and then sat down to use her front paws to hold it down as she bit off its tail.

JD turned to find Ezra, repeating, "We got him."

His smile dropped when he saw Ezra.  The gambler half-sat, half-knelt, one shoulder pressed against the wall.  He was trying to stand.  His tattered shirt, beneath his torn jacket, was covered in blood.

Ezra noticed that JD was looking at him. "Get the horses, JD," he said.  "Go!"

And the train left town.

PART 9:

JD had retrieved the horses as quickly as he was able, returning to find Ezra pressing what was left of his shirt against the wound.  JD quietly thanked Nathan for insisting that they always stow emergency bandages in their saddlebags. 

Ezra had insisted that they do not go in search of the local doctor – there were too many people who wanted him dead.  Their best chance was to get out of town quickly.

He helped Ezra quickly tie up the bullet wound on his side.  It didn't look too bad, but it bled a lot, and Ezra went white when he'd tightened the bindings over it.

He gave Ezra a hand getting onto his horse, and then lifted the chest and clock to Chaucer's saddle, securing them behind his friend.

Once Ezra was ready, JD lifted Sadie and settled her on his horse's saddle.  The dog skittered nervously to catch her balance on the uneven leather surface, her toe nails making a racket.  Toby twisted his neck in confusion and tried to back out from under the little dog.  Sadie scrabbled all the more when the bay moved. 

JD grabbed Toby's reins to quiet him so that he could climb into the saddle, a task made harder by the little dog that wouldn't settle down and wouldn't give him any room.

Toby didn't appreciate the situation.  He danced, snorting and twisting his head to get a look at the nuisance.  "Easy, boy," JD crooned.  "Easy now.  We can do this."  And with a quick hop, JD climbed behind the dog.

Once JD was ready, wordlessly, Ezra turned his horse and they headed out of town, slipping in-between buildings and doing their best to leave without being noticed – it wasn't easy with the commotion from the dog still wiggling, and Toby's uneven march.

Once they were out of town, they kept a quick pace, hoping to stay ahead of anyone who might follow.  JD rode with one arm on Sadie, who was still nervous in her perch.  Ezra rode with one arm across his middle.

JD had seen what the bullet had done.  The wound didn't look as if it had hit anything vital, mostly carving a nasty looking path just above Ezra's hip – but it had to be painful, and it was bleeding an awful lot. 

They continued onward.  Sadie squirmed in the saddle, making Toby buck from time to time.  Ezra commented on how he was glad that such a flea-ridden creature wasn't pressed between his saddle horn and his trousers.  JD did what he could to keep their little group together.

Time passed and, as they moved onward, Ezra became quiet – too quiet for the usually garrulous gambler.

Worriedly, JD pulled closer to Ezra, getting a good look at him.  He was uncommonly pale and trembling.  He seemed half asleep and his hands didn't even lift to grip the slack reins.  Chaucer continued forward, following Toby's lead.

"Ezra?  You okay?" JD asked. 

Ezra seemed to awaken a little.  "No," he replied.  "Hardly."

"We should stop for a little while, Ez."

"No, we should not," Ezra told him.

"They're not following us." JD twisted to look behind them.  "There's no one there. And we've gone a fair distance already."

"They will be coming in time."

"Why should they follow?  Bet those men just took off for the hills 'cause they got what they wanted, right?"

Ezra laughed a little, a chuckle that was bitten off as he sucked in his breath.  "No," he finally said.  "They didn't get anything."

"But, you gave them the letter," JD pointed out.  "That letter, it was what they were looking for all along."  JD seemed to think a minute.  "You read it, didn't you?  What did it say?"

"It was a confession," Ezra told him, "a confession concerning the evil work orchestrated by those three men.  They killed a stagecoach full of people -- killed a woman, too – just to steal the money and what valuables they carried.  Mr. Dunkirk attempted to separate those wretches from what they'd taken.   He took the money from their hide-away, and hid it elsewhere so that those three would not profit from killin'.  Liam Dunkirk paid for his brave attempt with his life."

"But, you gave them the letter.  They'll get their money and go."  JD pulled in closer to Ezra as the conman nearly doubled over in his saddle.

"The letter will lead them to nothing."

"You changed the letter!"

"No, it is exactly as Mr. Dunkirk wrote it.  I had neither pen nor ink to alter it.  But, that hardly matters. The riches are no longer where Liam left them."

"Where are they?" JD asked, puzzling.  "You find a new place to hide 'em?"

"Right under their noses."  Ezra turned a little in his saddle, closing his eyes at the movement, and laid a hand on the chest and clock that were tied behind them.  "They're filled to near bursting. I had to take out the clockworks to make it all fit. I couldn't leave that much wealth behind, now could I?" He smiled and, carefully, he faced forward, taking the time to meticulously straighten his jacket.

JD's gaze stayed on the two items.  The chest and clock had seemed strangely heavy when he handled them earlier.  "Oh," JD said.  "They're going to be mad when they figure out you took it all."

"Very mad," Ezra echoed.

"Maybe the horse owner got them first?" JD said hopefully.  "Maybe he caught 'em and those men will do us no harm."

"Mr. Reeves might change his mind at some point and believe what Mr. Fulshear and Darrow are spouting.  I am not the most trustworthy of sorts.  And Zeus' owner will, no doubt, be on my tail when he can manage it. I will be just as dead if he catches me."  He smiled a little, his head dipping to his chest.  "It was a mighty fine horse.  The ride may've been worth it."  He patted Chaucer.  "But, of course, none is nobler than this fine steed."  The horse made an appreciative little whinny.

Ezra was breathing deeply and his whole body shook.  The act of leaning to pet Chaucer seemed almost too much for him. 

Dunne wished he still had that blanket.

Wanting to keep Ezra talking, he said, "It would've been a good thing to have that confession in hand.  You could've written up a fake letter to replace it if you had the right supplies."

Ezra sighed again. "I couldn't risk them knowing Dunkirk's handwriting.  And I was running late as it was.  The packing of the cash… well… I lingered over it a little longer than I should have."

JD edged closer to Ezra, their horses nearly touching.  "Thank goodness that town's clock was fast otherwise they'd have cut my finger right off!"  JD said, lifting his hand and pointing that finger. Sadie tried to bite it, so he dropped the hand to the dog's head.  "Thank goodness for Sadie.  She saved me."  He smiled fondly on the little dog.

Sadie looked up at him and licked her nose noisily.

"The City Hall's clock was slow," Ezra reminded.  "Not fast, if you recall."  He paused as if trying to remember that it was only yesterday that all of this started.  "Thankfully, it also runs fast on some days.  The clock's lack of accuracy is what saved your skin.  I had to set your watch even slower and hope it made up for my tardiness."  His words came slowly, and almost slurred.

"But you made it," JD said.  "We all got out safely.  You timed it just right."

"Timing is everything."  Ezra moved one hand, bringing it to his vest pocket.  He fumbled a moment and drew out a watch.  With great effort, he handed it to JD.  His hand shook and his fingers were matted with blood.  "This is yours," he said in a low voice.

JD snagged the timepiece from the wavering hand and looked at Ezra in concern.

"Sorry," Ezra muttered, noticing his stained hands.  "It can't be helped.  Time's wrong," he muttered, nodding sleepily toward the timepiece in JD's hand.

"Ezra, we'd better stop. Let me check that bandage," JD rattled off.  "I don't think it's doing enough."

Ezra drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  "Sadly, the watch is all that's left of your purchases at the 'Take it or Leave it'.  I'll make it up to you."

"Ezra?" JD called as the gambler swayed, looking pale as a sheet.

"Promise… somehow."

"Ezra, we got to stop now."

Chaucer kept moving, but his pace became confused as if he wasn't sure what his rider wanted from him.

Ezra rubbed one hand on his ruined jacket lapels in an attempt to clean off the blood.  "You need to give this to Mr. Larabee," he said as he pulled an envelope from an inside pocket. "My word..."  His voice was soft, fading, "my word alone won't be enough."

JD recognized it as one of the love letters from Claire.  "Erza, we need to stop," JD said firmly, snagging the envelope that was held unsteadily toward him.  He jammed it in his pocket.

"We have so far yet to go," Ezra replied, and he seemed to struggle to keep his eyes open.  "And not enough time."  Chaucer paused, dancing in his uncertainty.

"Ezra?"

Standish gazed at JD, but didn't seem to see him.  He blinked slowly, lethargically.  "Be certain… Mr. Larabee gets that letter -- a good and honest man."

"Hey, Ezra?" JD tried again, reaching for Chaucer's reins to stop him.

"Don't let them win.  Too many people have…" And then like a puppet un-stringed, Ezra collapsed.

JD was ready.  His arms shot out to grab Ezra as the gambler tipped toward him.  Chaucer, surprised by the change in his rider's position, sidestepped to keep him upright, and slammed into Toby.  The little bay tried to spin out of the chestnut's way, and Sadie, alarmed by the crashing of the giant animals, stood and barked, straddling Toby's neck.

JD held on to Ezra for dear life as he tried to get Toby under control with his knees, as he tried to keep his horse next to Chaucer to save Ezra from a spill.  Chaucer kept turning, banging into Toby.  The bay continued his counter-movements to keep from getting bashed.  Ezra was slipping.

 Sadie barked and snarled and growled, and Toby thrashed his head at the uncomfortable weight of the dog on his neck.

And Ezra did nothing.  He slumped as if boneless, dragging JD downward.

Chaucer, still turning, snapped at Toby for being in his way, and then snapped at the barking dog that wouldn't shut up   Sadie snapped back.  Toby, fed up, reared -- and suddenly JD was pitched on his back, on the ground, with Ezra on top of him.

Two upset horses shuffled around them, their hooves coming down solidly, too close to their heads.  The dog barked and barked.

JD curled around Ezra as he shouted an angry, "Knock it off!" to the animals. Toby twisted and finally made his way clear of Chaucer.

The chestnut snorted at Toby and seemed to want to give chase, but he suddenly realized who was at his feet.  He instantly stilled, dropping his head to snuffle at his man's hair. 

Sadie stopped trying to mount Toby's head and instead skipped back to his saddle and stood, panting and looking rather pleased with herself as she awaited JD's return.

The young man sighed as he checked out Ezra, easing him onto his back.

Pale and sick and not moving – but still breathing, still alive – thank God.

JD sat up slowly, wondering what else was going to happen to them.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

Night was falling. The world dimmed around them with dusk.

JD had managed to move Ezra from the trail and into the cover of the sparse trees.  It wasn't much, but at least they weren't out in the open.   Toby and Chaucer were tied a short distance from them, out of sight from the trail and far enough away that Sadie didn't growl at Chaucer constantly.

The little terrier was curled at Ezra's side, snuggled under JD's jacket.  She looked comfortable and happy.  Every time JD drew near, she'd thump her tail and start to stand.

"Just stay quiet," JD told her.  "Keep him warm, okay?"

She'd make little yowling, yawning noises in her throat, but stayed put.

JD had tried to cope with Ezra's wound, adding more bandages and tightening them in an attempt to stem the flow.  Ezra had been dazed, able to sit up with JD's help, but not aware of what Dunne was doing.  He blinked and groaned when JD fixed the new bandage in place, but since JD had settled him, he'd been silent and hopefully asleep.

The fall from the horses probably hadn't helped the situation much, and they were now out of fresh bandages.  JD was hopeful that the bleeding had slowed.

Ezra must have lost an awful lot of blood during the ride.  The original bindings were soaked through and his trousers were matted and dark with blood.  JD wished they'd had their luggage with them – wished he had that blanket – wished they had something that could help keep Ezra warm, besides the clothing they were wearing, the saddle blankets and a little rat terrier.  He wished they had some sort of a weapon to protect them if trouble came.  They should have brought Harris' knife and gun, but things were happening so fast.

JD could see that Ezra's stomach was badly bruised, his clothing torn, and his arms and legs scraped and scratched.  His face looked as if he'd been beaten.  JD had no idea what had happened, but he was fairly sure that Fulshear and Darrow were responsible for part of it.  There were stories to be told.  What had Ezra done in order to gain his release?

And Ezra sure looked sick – sick and pale and weak – and JD was afraid.

JD remembered how Harris had looked when he died – how the life just seemed to drain out of him.  He never wanted to see something like that again.  So, he sat beside Ezra and shivered as the sky grew dimmer.   He'd lay down next to Ezra once it was dark, but for now he had to remain on alert.

JD checked his watch and wondered how far off the time was.  He figured it didn't really matter.

The only thing that cheered him was that Ezra had been wrong.  No one had followed them – not the thieves, not the horse's owner.  If they could make it through the cold of the night, if Ezra survived almost bleeding to death, if a fever didn't set in, if Ezra wasn't hurt in some other way that JD didn't yet comprehend… they might be okay.

If Ezra didn't die and leave him here all alone --

Yeah, JD thought.  Ezra was wrong about being followed.  They'd be fine.

And Sadie growled. 

Nearby, Chaucer snorted and stomped one hoof in annoyance.

"Quiet!" JD hissed.

Sadie paused and then growled again.  Chaucer shuffled menacingly.

"Quiet!"

A shorter growl ended in a little yip as JD put his hand on her.

And then JD heard the other sound – in the distance, but coming closer -- the jangle of someone on horseback-- moving along the trail.  Someone was coming from the direction of Bernard.

PART 10:

"Aw hell!" JD moaned as stayed close to Ezra, listening.  The sound of hooves on the trail was distant, but in the quiet of their surroundings, it was evident that someone was coming.

And dusk was just falling.  The trees might hide them, but anyone would be able to see the signs of where they left the trail. 

JD leaned close to Ezra and said, "I'll be back."

Ezra didn't stir.

Resolutely, JD crawled toward the trail.  When Sadie tried to follow, he pointed at her. "Stay!" he ordered.

She whined, making an almost human sound of disappointment as she sat up beneath the hounds-tooth jacket.

"Stay!" Dunne ordered again as forcefully as he could in a whisper, and continued his way to where they'd left the trail, hoping he could find a way to disguise it.

There was a bloodstain where Ezra had fallen.  The path was all torn up with hoof prints, and there was the obvious markings where he dragged Ezra out of the way – and over there was a half-chewed, tail-less squirrel.  How had that gotten here?  JD hadn't seen it since they left Bernard.

He punted the gnawed squirrel into the bushes, and kicked at the trail, hoping to hide the dark stain.  Maybe if he just covered that up, that would be enough? 

Someone was coming.  He paused, listening.

"What'cha doin', JD?"

The voice was so soft and so close that he nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun about. 

"Vin!"

The tracker sat, astride Peso, with his mare's leg cradled in his arms.  He must have just come around the bend, from the direction of Four Corners, silent as a cat.

"Oh God, Vin!" JD cried.  "It's good to see you!"

Vin's face puzzled as he noticed the stained earth, and the other signs.  "You alright?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine but Ezra's hurt bad," JD said, nodding into the trees.  

Vin turned where JD had indicated and anxiously started to dismount.  He stopped when he heard a scampering in the leaves.

The little black and white terrier shot out of the undergrowth, snarling.  She came between JD and Vin -- baring her ferocious teeth at the horseman.

Vin shook his head at the small dog, then his expression became sharp as and he gazed beyond JD, down the trail to Bernard.  "Someone's out there," he whispered to JD.

"They're coming!" JD hissed.

"Who's coming?" Vin cocked his head, listening.  "There's at least two men on horses out there."

"Either it's the murderin' thieves or the guy who got his horse stole.  I don't know which," JD replied as he moved towards Vin's protection.

The tracker held his rifle ready, and shouted out a clear, "Who goes there!" 

Sadie stood alert.

There was a pause, and then, "My name is Delwood Reeves and I'm hunting down the son of a bitch that stole my horse!"

"That answers that question," Vin muttered to JD.  "What's that got to do with you?"

"Ezra stole it," JD admitted in a low tone.  "But there's probably a lot more to the story."

"Figgered as much."

"Where are Buck and the others?"

"They're coming. I was scouting ahead, lookin' for a place to camp," Vin explained.  Then, in a loud voice, he called, "Come on forward. I think we need to talk to you."

At that moment, the little dog spotted something in the bushes nearby and dove in, coming out with a half a chewed squirrel.  She rolled with it on the trail.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

Ezra blinked, seeing the cloth of a lean-to above his head.

He turned his head slowly, feeling weak and dry and tremendously tired.  God, he hurt.  Every inch of him ached in one way of another.  But at least, he was warm – almost too warm -- wrapped up in blankets.  He wanted out.  He tried to move, but something shifted beside him, stilling him.

"Hey, welcome back, hoss."

He blinked again and Buck's grinning face came into focus.

"Buck?" he said hoarsely, perplexed.  "Mr. Wilmington, what're you doin' here?"

Buck continued to smile as he opened a canteen.  "We got that wire you sent yesterday -- about trouble in Bernard.  Knowin' how things go to hell all around you, we figured we should come on out and check out the situation.  Took us a while to get gathered.  Damn sorry we didn't get here sooner."

"Glad you made it," Ezra responded.  "Ya'll are here?"

"Yup.  More or less," Buck said with a shrug.

Ezra blinked again as Buck filled a cup.  "JD?"

"Now, don't you go frettin' yourself about the kid.  He's with Chris and Vin," Wilmington told Ezra.  "They all went back to Bernard with Del and his friend to set things straight.  Chris and the rest are fetchin' a wagon because you're not gonna be getting on another horse anytime soon.  Damn near killed yourself once already.  Come on, upsee-daisy."

Ezra grunted as Buck helped him to sit up for a drink.  From his upright position, he could see Nathan sleeping near the small fire, his back toward them.

Josiah was stepping through the little group of trees – probably searching out firewood.

Ezra startled when something moved by his legs again.  Under the blankets, it vibrated and growled as he adjusted his position.

When he shot Buck a startled look, Wilmington laughed.  "It'd be best if you don't touch her or nothin'.  Like most ladies, she doesn't much care for bein' disturbed when she's sleepin'."

A flash of realization crossed Ezra as he grumbled, "That dog is in my blankets?"  And he moved his arm stiffly to get the blankets out of the way, to free himself from the animal.  The growl increased in intensity.

Nearby, Josiah laughed.  "Listen to Buck, Ezra.  It is best to let sleeping dogs lie."  He walked toward them with a hatchet over one shoulder and a load of wood under the other arm.  "Good to see you awake."  He settled his load near the fire.

Ezra mumbled a greeting and then let Buck help him to settle back into the blankets.  He was feeling every ache and bruise at that moment, feeling weak and hot and horrible, and was wishing for some of Nathan's evil brews.

The dog, unseen, growled again, and once Ezra was still, she shuffled around, climbing over one of his legs and nestling between his knees.  He felt the dog sigh contentedly.

Ezra moaned as he thought of the fleas, but heeded the words of the others and did nothing to dislodge the little terrier.  It hurt too much to move in any case.

"Heard you stole one," Buck said once Ezra was still.

"Stole one?  Stole what?"  Ezra responded.  "The dog?  It's JD who toted it along.  He should have brought it back to Bernard with him."

"A horse," Buck said with a shake of his head. "They say you stole a horse."

Josiah found a seat beside Buck, "They say it was a mighty fine one indeed," he said.  "There was a man here who wanted you dead."

"He should stand in line," Ezra muttered.  There was a buzzing in his head and he closed his eyes a moment and then forced them open, trying to stay awake.

Buck continued, "That fella Del had to ride a rented mount out here.  He didn't seem too pleased.  JD got him convinced that you meant no harm.  He said you were just vexing the man that killed his papa.  That kid spun a pretty good tale, because Del figured he'd give you the benefit of the doubt for the time bein'."

Josiah added with a big grin, "JD told the man where you live.  He'll go to White Rock first, and if his stallion isn't there, he knows where to find you."

Ezra sighed again, hoping that someone in White Rock had taken in that horse, and that whoever did so was willing to part with it when the real owner came calling.  He knew that he would not give up such a horse.  Perhaps there were more honest and decent men in this world.

"I 'm enormously glad he believed JD's tale," Ezra replied quietly.  "It must have sounded a bit fantastic."

"Well," Josiah said.  "We don't know the whole story." 

Buck showed Ezra something in the palm of his hand.  "I found this little corncob pipe.  I figure this has something to do with something?"

Ezra puckered his brow at the sight of it.

"We've been waiting for you wake up to divulge the story," Sanchez stated.

Ezra licked his lips and wanted to reply, but it was getting harder to form a straight thought.  He looked up at Josiah.  It would take a while to tell it all and he couldn't quite order it. It was all a muddle in his head. 

He didn't know how long he paused, but after a moment, Ezra felt a cool hand on his forehead.  Josiah made a tsking sound and turned to Buck.  "He feels hot."

He had to tell them.

"Fever?" Buck asked.

Josiah nodded, looking disappointed.

What if they didn't know?  He had to tell them before those evil men got away.

"I'll wake Nathan," Buck said, standing.

"Those men…" Ezra started to say, but an ache caught him, and he stopped mid-sentence. He had so much that he needed to impart.  " … they…"

"Just wait a moment, Ezra.  We're getting Nathan," Josiah told him.  As Ezra looked up at him, he considered how old the man looked at that moment.  There was a worry in his eyes that disturbed Ezra and he wished it would go away. 

"Don't try to move.  You've been shot, Ezra."  Josiah told him, unnecessarily – as if he would forget that.  "Someone beat you rather badly."

"Badly?" Ezra responded.  "I'm certain they thought they did a good job of it.  I got a few licks in myself."  He smiled, trying to look confident, but he felt so tired, so damnably hot.   His sight seemed to be dimming, but he had to tell them everything he'd learned.  "The letter, you need to…" he started, but he was feeling too foggy.  "Killers, they killed those …" He was too tired, but he tried to keep speaking.

 Josiah looked annoyed, and said sharply, "Quiet, Ezra.  Just… Ezra?" Josiah's voice seemed to catch and, as the blackness closed in around Ezra, Sanchez shouted, "Nathan!"

But Ezra had decided to heed Josiah's order and was quiet.

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

He remembered bits and pieces of what followed.  There were moments of day-light clarity, followed by fog and dusk and night.  The wagon arrived with JD and the others.  There was noise and action all around him.

He was lifted.  A dog barked.  He remembered Josiah speaking to him, but the words didn't come clear, only the concern was evident.  He was settled in a wagon.  Horses were moved about.

He remembered all of them – JD, Buck, Chris and everyone -- at some point.  Their faces appeared over him like planets.  Concerned faces – he wished he could tell them everything he'd learned.  It would ease that worry.

Then there was a wagon-ride that stretched on to forever – the jerk and the jangle of the journey.   There were patches of consciousness where he stared at the sky, or saw Nathan hovering over him, a cool cloth against his face, water to his lips.  Around him a mush of noises – voices, horses, the crunch of rock under wagon wheel, that damn dog.

He was so hot.

Then he was carried again – feet on stairs.  Voices again.  "It's going to be okay, Ezra.  Just hang on."

Then he was in Nathan's clinic and he was still too hot and distant and not able to string thoughts together.  There was pain and heat and drifting.  People came and went and he felt as if he was at sea.

He dreamed of camels.

And then, finally, suddenly, the heat left him as, mercifully, his fever broke.

Since then, he slept.

It was night when he woke, feeling more like himself.  He found a room lit by a lantern.  He turned toward the light and lay quietly, watching Larabee as he read.  It didn't take long for the gunslinger to realize that eyes were upon him.

"Ezra," Larabee said as he set the book aside. "How you feeling?"

"I have been much better, quite often, in fact," Ezra murmured.

"Figured as much," Chris responded.  He said nothing else for a moment, just watching Ezra, and then stated, "It was pretty smart of you to make a copy of that confession."

Ezra smiled a little.  "You found it then?"

"JD gave me the envelope like you asked him," Chris said.  "I started reading this lady's love letter out loud." He chuckled.  "It wasn't the sort of thing meant to be read that way, to a bunch of men around a campfire."  He paused and said, "Vin saw it."

"Our eagle-eyed tracker," Ezra responded.

"He saw something odd about the back of that page.  The message was pretty faint."  Larabee cocked an eyebrow at Ezra.  "JD told us what he knew about Dunkirk's original letter.  How did you make an exact copy of the message – backwards -- on the back of that other letter?"

Ezra smiled, always pleased to describe his own cleverness.  "I had to sacrifice the snow globe that Mr. Dunn acquired along our travels. I used the water within to wet down Mr. Dunkirk's original manuscript, and with the coarse pages moistened, the cheap ink transferred to back of his sweetheart's pages.  I had hoped it would suffice.  Then, I had to moisten the rest of her letters to match Dunkirk's to ensure they all looked similar when those miscreants checked them.  There wasn’t time to dry them.  Hopefully the remnants of 'snow' weren't that noticeable.  I could only clear off so much."

Chris chuckled slightly.  "It did the trick.  I took the confession with me when I went to town to fetch you that wagon."

"They've apprehended those miscreants?" Ezra asked hopefully.

Chris nodded.  "Darrow and Fulshear managed to get out of town at about the same time you left.  They took a hostage, but the man got away.  Darrow and Fulshear tried to get the money they stole."

"And they were disappointed," Ezra said, smiling.

"Yeah.  They came back to town, looking for you.  The townspeople brought them to the jail, but sheriff seemed content to let them go."

"The sheriff is in on their foul deeds."  Ezra stared up at the ceiling.  "The townspeople couldn't have known that fact though, as you hadn't delivered the confession yet."

"Fulshear and Darrow took a hostage when they left town," Larabee reminded.  "When the sheriff decided to ignore that fact, the townspeople became suspicious."

"Thank God," Ezra muttered.  "I was afraid those two would be long gone before anything could be done with them.  At the time I left, there was no proof of their misdeeds, and the sheriff was in league with them.  Only my word…" Ezra said, lifting and dropping a hand.

"Seems that it was enough," Chris said. "They believed you enough to hold their own people captive."

Ezra stared at him in disbelief.

Chris went on, "I had the proof to back you up -- the letter and the stolen goods.  The judge will be coming to Bernard soon."

"You brought the money and jewelry back to them?" Ezra asked, "All of it?" and he gazed about the room, searching for something.

Chris continued to smile.  "All of it," he said.  "We brought the clock and the chest back to town, loaded with everything that you packed in there."  And as Ezra continued to check the room, Chris added, "We included the bills you stashed in the lining of your jacket – for safekeeping."

"Safekeeping…" Ezra repeated, closing his eyes. "Yes, good thing you found them."

Chris gave him a little slap on his good shoulder, and when Ezra opened his eyes, he was surprised to see no condemnation in Larabee's gaze, only a subtle amusement.

"You did good, Ezra," Chris told him.

"I failed miserably," Ezra responded.  "I didn't see the clues that were right in front of me.  I sent away crucial evidence.  I allowed JD to be captured, myself to be caught off-guard and beaten.   I committed a hanging offence, was shat on by cattle and flung from a train as a hobo, nearly drowned, assaulted by a tree, harangued by a child about the superiority of ungulates, nearly torn to pieces by a patch of sagebrush, totally ruined my clothing and lost all of my money.  I arrived late, nearly allowing JD to suffer horribly."

Chris listened, but repeated, "You done good Ezra.  We'll work with the judge on those horse theft charges.  Hopefully we can get you out of that if the horse can be located."

"Here's hoping they have citizens more honest than myself in White Rock."

"Everything you did was to save JD," Chris said with conviction.  "You never stopped trying, and your plan worked like clockwork." 

"If that was clockwork, then I wouldn't want that timepiece!"

" You're both still with us, the bad guys have been jailed and the money has been returned."  Chris gave Ezra another pat and added, "I'd just prefer it if you didn't get nearly killed next time you do something like this."

Standish smiled a little and replied, "I'll do my level best to keep that from happening again."

"Fair enough."

~oOoOoOoOoOo~

Ezra stood at the railing above the livery and gazed out across the streets of Four Corners.  It was always good to be out of Nathan's clinic and he took a moment to truly appreciate his freedom.

Gareth Fulshear and Joe Darrow had gone to trial that morning.   The wire Chris received proclaimed that that the men had been found guilty.  The stolen money would be returned to its owners or to their families.   Justice would be served on the killers.

Sherriff Wardlow was locked up as well, for aiding them in their evil deeds.

An earlier wire delivered the news that Delwood Reeves had journeyed to White Rock on his rented horse and retrieved the finest stallion that Ezra had ever seen.  The man who'd kept it was a little reluctant to part with it, but apparently he knew what was best.

Thank the Lord for honest men.  Reeves even consented to drop the charges – he was a fool.

And as far as Ezra knew, Uriah still trooped through the desert on his magnificent steed, Eloise – who was better than a horse in every way possible – at least on one boy's opinion.

All well and good for everyone – for most at least.

As Ezra rested against the railing, something darted down the street – a little black and white dog.  It dodged in front of a horse.  It bucked and nearly lost its rider.  The dog turned sharply and chased a loose chicken.  When it flew into the rafters, the terrier scampered up onto the boardwalk where its toe nails put up a racket.  In its jaws, it clenched a tiny piece of gray hide.

"Sadie!" JD shouted from down the street.  "Sadie, get back here!"  He chased her.

The dog paused a moment, pricking her ears at the sound of the kid's voice.  Then, it kicked off the side of the building – and dashed into the street, narrowly avoiding a wagon.

"Sadie!"

Ezra laughed, and JD looked up, spotting the gambler on the balcony.  "Hey, Ezra!" Dunne shouted.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dunne," Ezra replied, tipping his head.

"You free to go?  Nathan letting you out?"

"Only if I behave myself," Ezra replied, turning slightly as Nathan exited the clinic and sauntered toward him. 

"Well, great!  Good! 'Cause Mr. Nolan is selling a bunch of stuff from his old house.  His sale starts at high noon!  I got a few things picked out, and you said you'd get 'em for me, seein' as how you ruined most of the stuff I got in Bernard."

Ezra's face fell at the thought. 

The healer clapped a hand at Ezra's back and said, "He says that you promised him."

Ezra let out a low grumble and carefully pushed off from the balcony's railing.  "Very well," he muttered.  "You know, I got nothing out of this entire endeavor.  Nothing except for perforations, discomfort and an excessive cleaning bill."

"What about a feeling of well-being?" Nathan asked.  "A realization of a job well done?  You did a good thing, Ezra."

The conman scowled.  "A warm feeling does not replace my ruined jacket, Mr. Jackson," he said.  "It does not repair the watch."  And he gingerly made his way to the stairs and started to ease his way down.  "It does not find my lost hat!"

Nathan followed, ready to catch the gambler if he stumbled.

"Nothing!" Ezra went on.  "I lost the money I won at the tables that night.  Lost my stake along with it." He sighed.  "I was an absolute failure in that, and it was a ruin of a journey."

Jackson listened to the disheartened grumbling until he could stand it no more.  He leaned close, and whispered in Ezra's ear, "I hear there's a reward for finding the men who robbed the stagecoach."  And he pulled back, ready for the reaction.

Ezra turned abruptly, nearly toppling.  "A reward?" he repeated, his voice sounding so young and hopeful.

"A fairly good one," Nathan told him, unable to help the grin that formed at seeing Ezra's glee.

Ezra looked about ready to burst.  "Well then, Mr. Dunne!  Let us check this sale at Mr. Nolan's place. Perhaps we can find something worth our time.  I still need to replace a pocket watch.   My own piece is out for repair.  I need something to use in the meanwhile.  What time is it, Mr. Dunne?"

JD waited at the bottom of the stairs and checked his watch.  "It's nearly noon, Ezra.  We got to hurry before all the good stuff is gone."

Ezra nodded, and repeated, "Before the good stuff is gone.  Mr. Jackson, care to join us?"

"I think I might," Jackson responded, smiling still.  "You probably owe me a thing or two.  I can buy on your dime."

Ezra groaned, Nathan smiled and helped Ezra down the rest of the stairs.

"Hey, Ezra," JD started as they walked toward Nolan's, "Can you tell me again what it was like when you jumped on the train from a horse."

"Well…" Ezra started as he walked between his friends, "It was certainly a heroic tale…"

And with that, the three men headed toward the sale.  Ezra spun the adventure, while JD listened enraptured, leaving Nathan to wonder just how much of it had been embellished, and what had been downplayed.

On the boardwalk, a little black and white dog rolled on her back.  She gripped the remains of a squirrel hide in her teeth as she pulled on it with her front legs.  As the men made their way down the street, she tilted her head, noticed their departure, and took chase.

THE END

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