Redbird - the Second Half

Part 21:

Vin slept uneasily. In his mind he replayed the men attacking him...at the wagon...in the alley... the five of them overwhelming him -- he could do nothing to escape. The images changed and he replayed it differently...this time they were coming after Ezra, and Vin was helpless to stop them....Levitt and Grayson and Tremaine and Brown and Slim.

Vin could only stand aside. He was on patrol, sworn to protect this town and yet he let this happen. He dreamed that he sat placidly on his horse, watching as the five men dragged Ezra from the Redbird. He sat silently and let them take his friend... watched them drag him away until they disappeared into the dark.

He could hear Slim's voice again... Slim's damnable voice..."You gonna be good or do you want Grayse to knock ya cold? Worked good enough for that friend of yours. Unfortunately he didn't behave and we had to teach him a lesson. He won't be movin' much for a while."

What had they done to Ezra? Where was he? It all hinged on Slim, Vin knew that. If they could only figure out who the hell Slim was.

Ezra was still held somewhere -- his captors dead now -- Vin was sure of it. Wherever he was, Ezra had no one now. Vin squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imagine what it was like, wherever Ezra was.

He came back with the image of Clem Vaughn's ranchhouse... the cellar to be precise. He remembered how horrible it was to be confined in that dark place and remembered that Ezra had it even worse, being held in that dark pit with the heavy barred door. Vin had peered into that black hole. He remembered the fear that had filled him at seeing it. What a terrible place to be, Vin thought, recalling all of it...with Clem Vaughn taunting them...

Clem Vaughn... the sound of the man's voice returned to him. How he had hated that man while they were held captive. Clem Vaughn, driven mad by the death of his brother Aaron. That voice... Vin could remember it quite clearly. It reminded him... sounded so much like...

Vin sat bolt upright in his wagon. "My God," he muttered, struggling out of his blankets and dropped out of the wagon to the street that was just growing light with sunrise. He ran to the jail, and burst through the door to find a startled Josiah looking at him.

"Vin?" Josiah asked as Vin yanked the keys out of the desk drawer and unlocked the cell where the bodies of the gang had been unceremoniously dumped.

Vin strode past the bodies of Grayson, Levitt, Brown and Tremaine until he came to stand over the remains of Slim. The tracker squinted at the man, trying to find any similarity. There it was...something familiar about the jaw-line, the shape of the nose. He didn't even realize he was panting until Josiah was beside him.

"What's wrong?" Josiah asked, looking at him in concern.

"Vaughn," Vin said, pointing down at the body. "It's gotta be a Vaughn."

Buck suddenly entered the jail. "What's gone on?" he asked, looking to Vin. "I seen ya hustlin' over here."

"You were at the Vaughn Ranch, weren't ya?" Vin demanded. "You and JD? You were there!"

Buck nodded. "We checked it over yesterday."

Vin threw back the cell door and strode over to Buck. "Did you check the pit?"

"I looked in that cellar..." Buck said trailing off.

"The PIT! That goddamn pit!" Vin said, grabbing hold of Buck's shirt and pulling the taller man toward him. "Didja look in that pit in the middle of the cellar?"

Buck opened his mouth and said nothing for a moment then finally voiced, "No."

Vin released him and ran from the jail.

"Shit," Buck muttered and followed.

Vin almost collided with Chris on his way out the door. He nodded brusquely to Larabee before continuing his pace to the livery. Chris looked dumbfounded as Buck ran past him, hot on Vin's heels. He started to follow when Josiah grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Slim is Randall Vaughn," Josiah explained. "The brother of that Clement Vaughn. He'd been making inquiries lately about the ranch."

"Damn," Chris muttered and headed off after the other two.

Part 22:

In his dream...he flew.

He was safe and far from this place... far from this lonely dark place... this lonely dark cold stark hard fetid black wretched place. He was high above the world and flying higher. There were bright colors all around him and sunshine and light.

If he could only fly high enough...far enough... fast enough... he'd be out of here...safe.

Back...fly back...where?

Away...just to fly away...

Familiar places...the scent of a saloon with its whiskey and cheroots... his business...his very own place. His own....his home.

The taste of a fine meal...the softness of a feather bed...

Friendly voices...welcoming...glad to see him...

Familiar faces...people he knew...people he trusted and liked...truly liked. People he looked up to... people he was honored to know... faces he wanted to see again.

If only he could be back there...if only there was a way...flight...

He dreamed of flight.

Part 23:

Vin rode out ahead of the others, pushing Peso to keep up the hectic pace. He could see the ruined remains of the Vaughn Ranch house now, just a few blackened supports left from the once grand home.

"Ezra!" Vin shouted as he reached the perimeter of the house and looked down into the debris filled basement. His skilled eyes could see where boards had been recently disturbed, muted footprints in the ashes. He leapt down into the open cellar. "Ezra!" he shouted again. He could hear Chris and Buck's horses arriving now. Chris was above him... he could feel this without even turning.

He walked directly to where he remembered the cell had been and grabbed onto the edge of one of the boards that blocked his path. Chris and Buck leaped into the cellar and were suddenly with him, helping to move the boards. A waft of foul air floated up as they lifted the heavy oilcloth to reveal the cell below.

Light flooded into the dark space and a huddled form was revealed in one corner. It took them a minute to realize what it was.

"Aw, Ez." Emotions fought for control. Vin was at once thrilled to have finally found Ezra, but to see him so still and curled up so tightly into that corner, made his heart sink.

Buck yanked at the heavy iron door. He nearly pulled his shoulder out of its socket in his attempt to fling back the locked door. "Ezra, hey pard, ya hear me?" He yanked again at the cell as he continued to speak quietly. "We're here now, hoss. Come on and look up here at us. We gotcha. We'll getcha out in a minute." The little heap that was Ezra didn't move at all.

Buck bit his lip, hoping to see some movement...any kind of movement. Oh, please, don't let him be dead. Wilmington looked to Chris and saw a dark expression form on his friend's face.

"Step away, Buck," Chris said, pulling his pistol. "Vin, step away. I'll shoot that damn lock off."

"Wait! Wait!" They turned to see JD at the edge of the cellar. He looked as if he were about to leap in, but then he spotted a beam that was laying half out of the basement. He easily used it to get to the cellar floor. "Hold on, Chris!" He yanked something from his pocket and held it over his head. "I got the keys!"

Buck smiled, thankful that the sheriff had thought to bring Slim's keys. "Nathan and Josiah are right behind me with a wagon," JD said as he looked down into the cell. "Ezra?" he called quietly, wrapping his hand around one of the bars. He waited a moment before he looked up to the others. "Ya think he's okay?"

"Open it, JD," Chris ordered. The sheriff nodded quickly and began fitting keys into the lock. The third clicked. Vin and Buck flung the door back, barely giving JD time to get out of the way. They both jumped into the dank prison as the door slammed fully open. Chris considered following, but there was very little room in the cramped place and he realized that JD wouldn't be able to get them back out with any ease if it were necessary.

"How is he?" Chris asked, afraid of the answer. Vin crouched down beside the curled form of their friend. Ezra's head was turned into the corner, keeping his face hidden. His wrists were bound together and his tattered clothing was stained with blood. It was impossible to tell from Chris' position if the man was alive or dead.

Vin could see the slight rise and fall that signaled that the gambler was still breathing. "Ezra," Vin called quietly as he gently touched the man on the shoulder. Ezra jerked at the contact and, curled himself up even tighter. "It's me. It's Vin," Tanner said softly, keeping his hand on Ezra's shoulder. "We're here. It's me and Buck, right here with ya -- Chris and JD, too, and Josiah and Nate are on the way."

Buck laid his hand on Ezra's back, hoping to give him some comfort, but instead Wilmington felt Standish flinch under his touch. "It's okay, Ez, we're here now. We just want to getcha out, okay?"

"We're gonna want to move you now," Vin said. "Is that all right?"

Finally, Ezra took a labored breath and they heard a quiet voice call, "Vin?"

"Yeah," Vin said with a smile, grateful to hear that voice, but sorry to hear it so quiet and weak.

"They get you, too?" the hoarse voice sounded so sad. Ezra did not move, didn't even try to look at him. "Sorry...so sorry."

"No, pard, no," Vin replied turning to Buck. "We got those men and they ain't gonna be causin' no more harm to nobody. We came to getcha. Would it be okay if we got you out of here now?"

"Please," was the quiet reply. "Oh, please..."

Buck ducked his head. Ezra's plea nearly broke his heart. "Let us move ya, okay? Don'tcha try doin' it yourself," he said when he found his voice. "We'll getcha outta here in a jiffy."

"Is he okay?" JD called from above, unable to hear Ezra's softly spoken words.

"Buck? JD?" Ezra's voice was full of wonder. "You came back?"

"Yeah," Buck blinked and kept his eyes downward. Oh damn, damn, damn, Buck thought. He knew I was here. Oh shit, he heard me. He heard me come and he heard me leave him. "I come back as soon as I could. Soon as we figured it out."

"I knew it. Knew it... Thank you..." Ezra's voice trailed off and his body relaxed finally. He had apparently fallen unconscious.

Vin and Buck exchanged glances, then averted their eyes from each other. Both could see how Ezra's quiet words had affected the other.

Slowly and carefully, they moved Ezra out of his cramped position. Vin cut the ropes that had bound his hands and ankles. The ropes had dug bloody channels into his wrists. Both had sworn openly when they saw the condition of his face. It looked like someone had used him as a punching bag.

They could hear Chris muttering vehemently above them -- expressing his desire to kill 'Slim' Vaughn all over again. JD had to crane his head and change positions to finally see around Buck and Vin and when he did, he wished that he hadn't.

"Why?" JD said, turning to Larabee. "Why did they have to go and do that to him?"

Chris met JD's stunned eyes and couldn't answer. Randall Vaughn, like his brother Clement before him, had chosen to take out his anger toward Larabee on his men. Why? Chris had no answer to that. Randall was dead now, had paid his price for this. But now, after seeing what they had done to Standish, Chris figured the price paid wasn't high enough for Vaughn.

Ezra remained unconscious as Buck and Vin carefully straightened him out in the small stone cell. Vin sighed, as he felt along Ezra's swollen arm and realized that the barely mended bone was probably broken again. The gambler seemed to be bruised everywhere and the two men wanted to do nothing to hurt him further. They heard the sound of the approaching wagon and a minute later they looked up to see Josiah and Nathan finally appear above them.

"Good God!" Josiah cried as he looked down at them, his face filled with undisguised anguish. "What did they do to him?"

Nathan had leapt down beside Ezra without a word and started doing what he could.

"He was awake for a bit when we got here," Vin explained. "Think he's out now though."

"They 'bout bruised every inch of 'im," Buck said with disgust. "His arm might be broke up again."

Nathan ran his hands along the arm, feeling along the bone. He watched Ezra's face as he worked, wanting to see a response but getting none. "Yeah," the healer said, "Didn't have a chance to heal enough."

Buck stood, trying to make some more room in the tight space. Vin stayed beside Ezra, holding his hand while Nathan checked him. "He's so cold," Vin said, gently squeezing the chilled hand.

"He's been in here the whole time?" Nathan asked, looking around at the stone walls.

"Looks like it," Vin replied. "There was boards and a big tarp over the top when we found 'im. They weren't lettin' any light in." Vin gazed about the cell and shuddered. He didn't want to think about what it was like to be in here for so long -- the darkness, the close walls, the horrible smell of it.

Nathan reached out and grabbed a bandana out of Vin's pocket. "Hold his head up a minute, Vin," Nathan said quietly. "His eyes ain't gonna be able to take the light for a while." Nathan grimaced as he tired the blindfold, knowing that it would be pressing against some of those awful bruises.

"Let's get 'im outta here," Nathan said, to everyone's agreement.

"You and I better change places, Vin," Josiah said to the tracker. "I got a better reach than you." Ezra had to be lifted above their heads to get him to the hands of those above them. A difficult job, but once Vin and Josiah switched places the difficulty disappeared. The preacher may have been able to lift the gambler up to the surface on his own.

Buck, Nathan and Josiah quickly scrambled out of the cell and Ezra was transported out of the cellar and to the wagon. Buck, Vin and JD collected the hay and straw that remained in the barn and padded the wagon-bed with it. Ezra was carefully settled into the makeshift bed and the group of lawmen started toward home. Josiah kept the wagon at a slow pace, trying to keep the jostling to a minimum. There was no rush now. They only needed to bring Ezra home.

Part 24:

Buck rode alongside Vin, his attention on the back of the wagon where Nathan and Chris aided their injured friend. JD followed close behind, leading Chris' horse.

Wilmington turned slowly to the tracker, whose eyes did not move from the wagon, from where Nathan was splinting Ezra's arm. The tracker's face showed the anxiety and sorrow, but when Vin turned to Buck, Wilmington saw the expression change to a look of thinly disguised hostility.

Buck knew the reason. "I am so sorry, Vin," he said quietly. "God, I'm sorry."

"Ain't me you should be sorry to," Vin replied. "Ain't me you missed this time."

Buck grimaced and bowed his head. "I feel like shit, Vin. You gotta know that."

"Why didn't you look? Why didn't you take five minutes and look!" Vin jerked Peso to a stop and glared at Wilmington. The normally soft-spoken tracker raised his voice at the ladies' man. "God, Buck, you knew it was there! You knew that cell was there and didn't bother to look. You left him! You could've gotten 'im out of there a whole day ago. He's been in that fuckin' pit, all by himself for almost a week now and you gave him one extra day!"

"I'd do anything...anything, Vin, to fix this. If I could just go back...If I could just...."

The tracker cut him off. "Yeah, but you didn't. Why, Buck?"

"I don't know." Buck watched as the wagon continued its slow progress. He saw Chris glance up at him, and then return his attention to Ezra. The concern etched into the gunslinger's face was evident, even as he moved further away. "I just didn't."

"Not good enough!' Vin barked at him.

JD came even with the other two men, his face sullen. "It was me, too, Vin," The young man said. "I didn't think of it either. We could see into the cellar. Didn't see him there. We couldn't tell that anyone had been in it."

"I could tell," Vin said pounding on his chest.

"We just don't got your skill in that department," Buck said softly.

"Doesn't matter!" Vin flung out his arms. "All you had to do was LOOK! Didja see what they did to him? See how bad he was hurt? And you just LEFT him there to suffer on his own. Left him in that cell. What kind of bastard are you?" Vin saw the effect his words had on Wilmington, and instantly he regretted it. Buck looked as if he had been slapped.

Vin's gaze shifted suddenly from Wilmington to Dunne. "It's our fault, Buck," JD muttered. "It's all our fault, ain't it? I was just scared is all. I was just rememberin' what happened last time, when you and Ez were... were in there... and... almost burned..." The young sheriff trailed off and then turned his back on them as he tried to gain his composure. "All I wanted was to not be there. To not think on what had happened last time. I should'a thought to look. I should'a. We could've gotten him home yesterday."

Buck sighed and turned to Vin. "My fault."

Vin looked at his two friends. Buck's face was etched with a deep regret. He could see the sorrow there, the incredible sorrow, could see the weight of the blame that was now placed there. JD continued to keep his back to them, his hand over his face. The tracker felt a wave of shame and guilt cross over him.

"No, Buck," Vin admitted. "It was me. I was the one 'sposed to be watchin' the town that night. It was me that should'a stopped it all at the beginnin'. Never should'a let it happen in the first place."

"Ya can't be everywhere at once," Buck said thoughtfully.

"Should'a been there to help 'im. I'm s'posed to be his friend and was s'posed to be watchin' for trouble. I should've been there to help 'im when he really needed a hand."

"Ain't nothin' you can do for that now," Buck said. "And I screwed up. I screwed up mighty bad when I just left 'im there."

Buck and Vin turned their attention back to the wagon that continued to move on toward Four Corners. "We found 'im though," Vin said.

"Yeah," Buck replied.

"It'll be okay now."

"Yeah."

Vin turned to JD, whose shoulders slumped. "Sorry, JD," Vin said. "Not your fault what happened. Not your fault, Buck. You done none of this. I jus' needed someone to yell at and I took you for the target."

"Should'a thought to look," JD said quietly.

"Too late for that now," Vin said softly. "Don't matter. We got 'im. We just gotta make sure he's okay now."

Part 25:

Chris solemnly helped hold Ezra upright as Nathan bound up his ribs. Jackson figured that three ribs were broken. Ezra didn't respond as Nathan put a splint on the re-broken arm and then bound it to his chest.

"He may be wakin' up, sudden-like. I don't want 'im flailin' the arm around," Nathan explained as they settled Ezra back into the straw.

Chris looked up to see Vin pull to a halt behind them. The tracker's face red with rage. Buck stopped beside him -- looking sheepish; JD lingered a few paces back, his gaze on the ground. Larabee realized that he wouldn't have to confront Buck and JD regarding their error in judgement -- that Tanner was taking care of that at this moment. He hoped that it didn't come to blows.

The gunslinger thought about the friendship that had developed between Vin and Ezra -- how close the two had become. There had been a time when Chris had thought the two would never see eye-to-eye on anything. They were just too wildly dissimilar. Ezra, with is love for the plush life, smart-ass, city-boy, con artist and gambler. Vin, with his quiet nature and love of the outdoors, Indian-expert, bounty hunter and sharpshooter. The two, at first observation, were as different as night and day.

As time passed, Chris realized that Tanner and Standish were more alike than not. They were extremely perceptive, endlessly clever and capable of seeing though a façade.

Vin had been more open to friendship at the start -- easily fitting into the group and becoming close to Larabee almost instantly. Chris suspected that Ezra just never felt safe in a friendship -- always figured that it would go somehow awry.

Like now, Chris thought glumly, watching Nathan work at cleaning the reddened wounds, bruises, the scrapes and scratches that seemed to appear almost everywhere on Standish.

They had found a canister of kerosene in that cellar. It had become obvious to Chris what Randall Vaughn had in mind...to finish up what his brother had started and kill both Ezra and Vin...burn them up as Clem had tried to do not so long ago.

All because of what Chris had done... because Chris had killed Aaron Vaughn. He reached out and lay his hand on Ezra's. No response. Standish was so bruised, his face so swollen. It was a wonder he was breathing at all or that he had been able to recognize voices. The hand was cold. Chris picked up Ezra's hand and tried to massage some warmth back into it, mindful of his torn wrist.

"He gonna be okay?" Chris asked quietly as Nathan pulled a blanket up over Ezra.

"The bruises should heal, okay," Nathan replied. "Bones will set in time. Gotta get the chill outta him. Looks like they stomped on his legs a bit. Not broke -- but in pretty bad shape. It's gonna be a while before he's walkin' again." Jackson sighed and ran the back of his hand along his forehead. "He's got a mighty bad concussion though."

"Will he be okay when he wakes up?"

"Dunno," Nathan replied, and then after a minute admitted, "I can't even say if he'll wake up again."

Chris groaned and rubbed his head. "If he does ...will he..." Chris trailed off and started again. "Will he be all right? I mean, do you think his head's okay?" Larabee couldn't bear to think of Ezra as damaged mentally. Couldn't bear to think of how affected Ezra would be without his cleverness and smart ass personality. It would better if he were to never wake up at all.

"I just don't know," Nathan whispered, placing another blanket over the chilled gambler.

Part 26:

The trip back to town was slow. It was afternoon by the time they pulled the wagon up in front of Nathan's clinic. Josiah quickly jumped down from the seat, and rounded the back of the wagon. Nathan had intended to help carry the southerner up the stairs, but Josiah easily lifted Ezra and held the injured man protectively to his chest. Ezra was as limp as a doll, his legs dangling over Josiah's arm and head resting against his shoulder.

"Ya got 'im okay, Josiah?" Vin asked as he secured his horse to the hitching post.

The big man nodded. His sad face looked down on their battered friend. "Don't fret, Vin. He's as safe as houses now. Safe among his friends... finally."

Chris turned his head, watching the people of the town who gathered about the wagon, muttering and jostling to get a better view of what was going on. They were pointing and gasping and the murmur grew louder. Larabee caught sight of Mary near the back of the crowd and heard her try to divert the people away. Inez and Joe appeared outside of the Redbird and began persuading the crowd into the saloon.

"Let's get 'im out of the street," Chris declared.

Nathan headed up the stairs to the clinic with Josiah directly behind him. Chris followed, keeping his hand on the preacher's back in case he lost his balance with his quiet burden. Of course, Chris realized that he'd be able to do little to impede the fall of the big man, but if nothing else, his touch might help ease the pain he saw in Josiah's face.

"He's lost weight," Josiah said sullenly once they reached the door.

Nathan shook his head ruefully and pushed open the door. "I don't think they feed him much at all. May not 'ave given 'im anything," he sighed. "Didn't give 'im enough to drink either. He's dehydrated. This past day didn't help much."

JD and Buck stood up when the others entered. They had ridden ahead to ensure that the clinic was ready. The wood stove was already hot and the kettle rattled on the burner. A bucket of cold well-water sat beside the bed.

"How's he doin'?" JD asked.

"Hasn't stirred yet," Nathan replied. The blankets had already been pulled back on the bed, so Josiah carefully set Ezra down on the readied surface. Nathan held the gambler's shoulder's to settle him onto the pillows. Slowly, Ezra was starting to move, turning his head and trying to twist out of Jackson's grip.

Ezra moaned and brought his unencumbered hand up, as if to ward off a blow. "No...no..." he murmured.

"Shhhh," Nathan said quietly. "It's okay, Ezra, it's just me."

Ezra didn't seem to hear the healer, and began to struggle against him and Josiah. "No... no... no more..." He tried to roll onto his side, tried to curl himself into a ball. "Please, no more..."

"It's okay, Ezra, It's me... it's Nate." Nathan increased his grip on Standish, but Ezra, feeling someone pressing down on him, thrashed against the force.

Josiah tried to hold Standish still, but a leg suddenly lashed out, catching him in the stomach. With an "Ooof!", Josiah lurched backward, tripping over JD and sending both of them to the floor.

"NO!" Ezra said with surprising intensity. He moved his head, trying to find where his tormenters were, but his eyes were still covered, blinding him. He struck out again with his feet.

"Ezra, damn it!" Chris cried, having barely escaped a kick and colliding into Buck.

Buck stepped back quickly, and found himself sprawled on the floor as he came in contact with the still downed JD. "Dang it, JD!" Buck said, cuffing the kid. "Get up off of the floor!" JD readily complied, using Buck's shoulder for support.

Vin pushed past Nathan as Buck and Josiah scrambled to their feet. The tracker came up behind Ezra where he would be safe (hopefully) from the gambler's lashing feet. He knew that Standish was adept at using his them in a fight. And even in the cardsharp's current incapacitated state, Tanner knew those feet could inflict injury.

"Easy, Ezra," he said softly. "It's me. Vin..." He didn't touch Ezra.

"No more," Ezra quietly voiced, stopping his frantic movements.

"No more," Vin agreed. "I promise... no more, okay. We gotcha now. It's okay."

Ezra breathed deeply, listening. "Vin?"

"Yeah, it's me," Vin lay his hand as gently and as slowly as he could on Ezra's shoulder, but he still felt the man flinch away from him, trying to roll himself into a ball. "It's just me."

"Dark."

"I know, I know." Vin looked up to Nathan. "Gotta keep it that way for a bit, Ez. I'm sorry."

"Try to get him to drink some of this," Nathan said, pressing a cup into Vin's hand. "It's got some laudanum in it."

"Ya want some water, pard?" Vin asked softly.

"Water?"

"Yeah. Think you can drink some?"

Ezra seemed to consider this for a moment and answered, "Yes."

Josiah helped sit Ezra up, even though the gambler jerked away from him at every touch. Josiah's despair in Ezra's reactions was easy for everyone to see.

"It's me, son," Josiah said soothingly. "It's Josiah." Ezra turned his head toward the preacher, but Josiah wasn't sure if the gambler understood him.

Vin was only able to get Ezra to sip at the cup before Standish shoved against the tracker and averted his face.

"Come on, Ez," Vin sighed. "Ya gotta drink some of this."

"Foul," Ezra uttered, trying to pull his head further away, trying to get out of the grip that held him upright.

"Nate's put some laudanum in it," Vin explained. "It'll make it so it don't hurt so much. It'll be good for the pain, ya know."

"Know..." Ezra said softly.

Vin, misunderstanding, said, "Come on, Ez. Don't say 'no'. It'll help."

Ezra licked his bruised lips and stated, "Know. I know what laud...a...num is for. Not stupid." The words came out slurred.

Vin smiled, glad to hear that quiet sarcasm, glad to hear more than one or two words at a time. "Well, then, if ya ain't stupid then ya know what's good for you. Just drink what's here in this cup. It ain't very much. Don't want you to get sick on it."

Ezra sighed, keeping his head turned away. "Don't want to get sick..." He sucked in a breath before he continued, "Makes me ill... sometimes."

"I know. Just a little then," Vin bargained. "Then we'll letcha be."

Ezra nodded once and Vin was able to get him to drink the entire contents of the small cup. Ezra's free hand rested on Vin's arm, gripping him tightly, until he slipped into unconsciousness again.

Josiah carefully settled Ezra in the bed, murmuring soft assurances as he did, and Nathan filled the basin with cold water from the bucket. The healer carefully wet down a cloth with the water and lay it over Ezra's bound and bruised eyes, hoping to bring down some of the swelling.

"He gonna be alright?" Buck asked tentatively.

Nathan sighed as he tended to Standish. He grabbed the boiling water from the stove and poured the sterilized water into a second basin. He used it to wipe away the blood from the dozens of scrapes. He'd have to use whiskey next to knock down the infection, but at the moment he just wanted to get Ezra cleaned up. It wasn't as bad as it could be. Ezra didn't appear to have a fever; he was more chilled than anything.

Finally, after a minute the healer responded. "We should keep a watch on 'im."

"Make sure he doesn't wake up alone," Chris added.

Part 27:

Buck walked slowly back and forth across the dim room, trying to keep his tread quiet and not wake the man who was trying to sleep. Wilmington kept his eyes on Ezra, who tossed in the bed, muttering and raising his good arm from time to time. At least Ezra had stopped trying to curl up into the tiniest shape he could. Somewhere in Ezra's mind, he must have found the need to be comfortable outweighed the need for protection.

Buck paced, annoyed that he could do nothing else at this point. He had tried talking to the restless man earlier, but Ezra had not responded to his voice. Nathan had been here all evening, doing what he could. Once Ezra was bandaged and settled, there was little more that could be done. Chris had made the healer promise to take a supper and then go get some shut-eye.

They had been able to get some more water into Ezra once more during the day. The laudanum-laced liquid had let Standish ease into a sleep that he hadn't returned from yet. Nathan had piled the bed with blankets, hoping to warm Ezra up a bit, and it seemed to be doing the trick. So far, there had been no sign of fever.

But, for the past hour now, Ezra had tossed -- murmuring incomprehensibly. From time to time, Buck thought he understood a word or two. But some of it seemed to be French or Latin or whatever the hell other languages the cardsharp spoke.

Ezra continued to raise his hand, sometimes resting it on his head for a moment, only to pull it back sharply and sigh. Buck had checked him for signs of fever earlier, careful not to awaken Standish in the process. Wilmington knew that the last time Ezra awoke, he was just as confused as before -- ready to lash out at anyone who came near him. Somehow, even blindfolded, Ezra knew where they were and had been able to hit a target more than once. Buck rubbed his hip at the memory.

Ezra's mutterings became louder, still impossible to penetrate and his movements became more aggressive. Buck stood and said softly, "It's okay, Ez... it's okay," not knowing what more to do. He didn't want to come in contact with him at this moment...knowing how Ezra had responded to that.

Suddenly, Ezra's hand was back to his head. With a quick movement, he snagged his thumb under the blindfold and pulled it off, flinging it to the far corner of the room. For a second, Buck could see Ezra blinking in the dimness, but Standish squeezed his eyes shut and kept them closed.

"Ezra," Buck said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room to retrieve the bandana. "You gotta keep this on ya. Your eyes ain't ready for the light yet."

He strode slowly back to the bed and stopped. Ezra was no longer tossing, but seemed to have finally fallen into a more comfortable sleep. The gambler sighed deeply and relaxed.

Buck shrugged and shoved the bandana into his pocket. "Couldn't see myself puttin' it back on ya in any case," Buck said, as he turned down the lantern on the table. "Its time you got outta that dark place."

Part 28:

JD sat beside the bed in the dim room, watching Ezra sleep. He had taken over for Buck after midnight. When the young sheriff had entered the room, he'd noticed that only one lantern burned, and was set about as low as the thing could be without being turned out. Then JD had asked pointedly why Ezra was no longer wearing the blindfold. Nathan had demanded that they leave it in place.

Buck had just shrugged and said, "He didn't want to wear it any more." Wilmington had left, after giving JD a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder. "He's gonna be okay, JD."

The young sheriff had nodded and tried to look as if he believed it.

Dunne had been sitting the past two hours, watching and waiting in the dim room. "Gee, I'm sorry, Ez," he said, rubbing his hands along his knees. "I'm so damn sorry." He hated to see his friend so badly beaten. Ezra always treated him with respect -- didn't mollycoddle him as the others sometimes did. Perhaps because Ezra had grown up rather quickly was the reason that he always treated JD as an adult. The gambler was quick with a smile, loved a good joke or a good game. He had a way of lightening the mood of even the tensest situations and tried to find a way around violence. Ezra felt that words could solve problems far more efficiently than bullets or fists. Why did such horrible things always have to happen to him? He didn't deserve it...no, not on any account.

"Sorry, Ez," JD said again.

JD's eyes lifted as he saw Ezra start to stir in his bed. The gambler had been quiet up until this point. Ezra moved his good arm slowly and seemed to realize that his left arm had been bound against him. Standish blinked in the dimness and suddenly tried to get his broken arm free, jerking at the bindings.

The young sheriff jumped to his feet and shouted, "No! Stop it!" He couldn't let Ezra hurt himself further. Ezra turned a startled glance toward him. Quick as a cat -- too quick for JD to have believed possible -- Ezra flung himself out from under the covers and disappeared around the far side of the bed.

"Ezra!" JD cried. He hurried the few feet to the bed and rounded the foot of it and was astonished to find no trace of Standish. "Ezra?" JD called, softer. He looked down at the bed and got down on his hands and knees. "Hey, Ez?"

The young man lifted the edge of the blanket and peered into the darkness under the bed. "You down here?" Where else could he have gone? JD reached out slowly, it was as if he were groping his way into a lion's den. His hand glanced across what must have been Ezra's leg and he felt the leg pull away from him as Ezra scuttled away, further under the bed.

"It's okay, Ez," JD whispered. "It's only me. It's JD," Dunne steeled himself and slid his head under the bed. He remembered how Ezra had kicked out at the others earlier. If Standish were to try it now, JD figured he'd end up with a broken nose at least. "It's just JD."

"JD?" he heard Ezra's quavering voice. "What're you doin' here?" His words had a 'fuzzy' quality to them, his mouth too damaged to form the words to their usual perfection.

"Just followin' you is all," JD said lightly. It was too dark too see. JD figured that Ezra must have been pressed into the space under the head of the bed.

"They got you, too? They got you? You hurt?" Ezra said, his voice cracking.

"No," JD assured, "No, Ez, no....they're gone. You're not there no more. We're not there no more. Remember? We came and gotcha."

"Where?" Ezra asked quietly. "Where are we? It's dark."

"We're at Nathan's is all. Got the lights turned down a bit."

"Oh." He was silent for a moment and then said with a note of confusion, "Where, exactly, in Nathan's?"

JD had to laugh at the tone. "We're under the bed."

"What're we doin' there?"

"Hell if I know." JD smiled, glad to hear that Ezra at least sounded reasonable. "It was your idea." JD forced himself further under the bed and said, "You come on out of there, okay? Come on, I'll give you a hand. We'll getcha comfortable again. It'll be better."

"No," Ezra replied softly.

"It's okay," JD continued. "I'll getcha back up there. Won't no one else have to know." He reached forward and touched Ezra's hand. Standish didn't jerk away this time.

"Too tired," Ezra responded. "Just want to sleep. Safer here."

JD sighed. "It okay if I stay down here with you?"

There was a slight pause before Ezra replied, "You may."

Ezra was quiet after that, so JD thought he had fallen asleep. When Dunne made a move to get out from under the bed, the hand that had lain lax beneath his suddenly went into motion and grabbed him forcefully by the wrist.

"Don't go," was the simple request.

"S'okay, Ez," JD stated, startled by the movement. "I just want to get a pillow 'cause it's kinda hard here on the floor. You want one, too?"

"Yes... please," Ezra said as he slowly released JD's arm. JD shuffled out from beneath the bed and returned as soon as he was able to lay his hands on the bed's pillows and blankets.

He helped Ezra with the bedding and shortly afterward, Dunne was certain that Ezra had fallen asleep, crammed up against the wall, tucked under the head of the bed. JD sighed and lay his head on his pillow, resting his hand on top of Ezra's until they both were asleep.

Part 29:

Nathan and Chris headed to the clinic at first light. Nathan yawned and stretched. Yesterday had been a long day, following a long week. Jackson hoped that Ezra was doing better today. Standish had looked like hell when they'd found him. Nathan didn't want to say much about it, but he was very concerned about the cardsharp. It had been a relief that Ezra had come to in the clinic and had had the strength to fight them. Jackson just hoped that Ezra was more coherent today. The healer remembered his own bruised shin and didn't want to go through another wrestling match.

JD hadn't sent word during the night, so Standish must have slept well enough. That was a good sign. Nathan rubbed the back of his neck as Chris pushed the door to the clinic open. Jackson didn't see Larabee come to a sudden stop and collided into him with a startled yelp.

"Hey!" Nathan said, and then followed Chris' gaze into the clinic. The two men looked into the room in amazement. The clinic was empty. Ezra was gone, and so was JD.

"Son of a bitch," Chris said under his breath.

"What?" Nathan looked about the dim room in disbelief. "Where could they..? Why? How?"

"Get Buck, Vin and Josiah. Damn it! We'll start searching for them ..."

"Shhh!"

The shush startled both of them and they looked for the source, surprised to see JD's head suddenly appear from beneath the stripped bed.

"JD?" Chris said.

"We're down here," JD whispered. "He's asleep still."

Chris and Nathan made their way to the bed and crouched down to peer under it. Chris turned his gaze on the young sheriff. "What the hell do you think you're doin?"

"It was his idea," JD said, nodding to the sleeping form under the head of the bed. It was dark, but Chris could barely make out Ezra, against the wall and all balled up in a blanket. His good hand was outstretched and clasped by JD.

"Damn it, JD," Chris growled in disbelief. Sure, Ezra had a pillow under his head, but God, the last place he should be was on a hard floor.

"How's he doin', JD?" Nathan asked quietly.

"He's been sleepin' most the night," JD responded. "Doin' pretty good."

"'Cept for the fact that he's under a bed!" Chris hissed indignantly.

Nathan sighed. "He probably feels safer there," he told Chris. "He likes small places."

"I find it hard to believe he'd be seekin' out small places after what happened to 'im."

"Well, there's one big difference here," Nathan said. "He chose this small place."

"We can't leave him there," Chris declared.

"I don't think we should try to pull 'im out though," Nathan said thoughtfully. "Don't know how he'd react to someone tuggin' on 'im." Jackson's hand grazed his own bruised shin. "Might not like it."

"I will not leave him under there," Chris said defiantly. "Damn it, Nathan!" The gunslinger stood and stalked away from the bed and turned back to glare at it.

"He's had a pretty bad concussion, Chris," Nate said. "He's a bit confused."

"What if we lift the bed off of him?" Chris asked. "Then we get his ass off of the floor and try to figure out what the hell's goin' on."

Nathan nodded. "I'll go get Josiah and the others." He peered in at Ezra again and then looked back at JD. "What happened to the bandana? I thought I told you boys..."

JD shook his head. "Dunno. That happened while Buck was here. This," he nodded to the bed above him, "this one's mine."

Nathan shook his head and then hurried out of the room. The gunslinger brought his gaze back to JD, who still lay with his head sticking out from under that damn bed.

"He's okay," JD said assuredly. "It's my fault really. I startled 'im and he was too tired to come back out. He'll be okay once we get 'im out again." And then the young man slipped back under the bed to keep an eye on his charge.

Nathan returned in a few minutes with the others. The three of them looked rather puzzled about the current situation.

Buck and Vin crouched down and peeked under the bed. "Son of a gun," Buck said. "How'd he get down there?"

"He was perty fast," JD explained, careful to keep his voice low. "I startled 'im and he wanted to get to someplace protected."

Vin frowned. "You keep an eye on 'im, JD. Don't let him get startled no more."

JD nodded. "You can bet on it."

"Wait a minute." Nathan grabbed a blanket from the shelf and handed it to Josiah. "Cover the windows up. It's too bright in here for him if he wakes up. His eyes ain't ready yet."

Josiah complied, darkening the room. The blankets allowed enough light to see what they were doing, but dimmed the area considerably. The men then moved into position around the bed. JD was left where he was and the other five carefully lifted the bed up and over the two of them. The young sheriff placed his hand on the sleeping man's head, to ensure he didn't wake suddenly and try to sit up while the bed was in motion over them. It was only once the bed had been settled again in a new position that Ezra opened his eyes and blinked at JD in confusion.

"Mr. Dunne," he said softly, "Can you explain to me why we're on the floor?" He pulled his hand out of JD's grasp and then looked up see JD's other hand on his head. Ezra affected a glare that reminded JD it was time to remove the offending appendage.

"We were just sleepin'," JD said as he stiffly got to his feet.

Ezra turned his gaze to the others in the room as well. He thought it was odd that they all looked so damned happy, especially considering his current situation and... discomfort. "What just happened here?" he asked, perplexed, trying to get himself straightened out, but stopping quickly, with a groan.

"Ya damn fool," Buck said, squatting down beside the gambler. "Ya got yourself all worked up and done tried to hide yerself real fine." God, Buck thought, it's good to hear him talking sensibly. Standish still looked awful, but at least he was awake and apparently alert.

"How ya feelin', Ezra?" Chris asked.

Larabee received a grimace for a reply and, "Miserable."

Nathan said, "Well the fact that you're able to answer at all is a mighty fine thing." He nodded to the preacher. "Josiah, ya think you could give me a hand in getting' 'im back in bed."

Ezra waved Josiah away. "I’m quite capable," he said as he tried to push himself upright, but he started shaking so badly it was soon obvious, even to himself, that he would not be able to follow through.

"Come, Ezra," Josiah rumbled. "Let me help." Ezra pulled away as Josiah drew near him, but allowed Sanchez to lift him and then set him down in the bed.

Ezra looked puzzled for a moment and asked, "Why'd you move the bed?"

"Thought you'd like it better over here," Nathan responded as he picked up the pillows from the floor and fluffed them up. Josiah helped sit Ezra up so that Nathan could get them under his head. Jackson took the opportunity to get a close look at the cardsharp. Ezra still flinched from Josiah, and when he realized that Nathan was looming over him, he pulled away from the healer.

"How's that?" the healer asked, trying to ignore Ezra's reaction.

"A tremendous improvement," Ezra replied with a sigh. "Leagues beyond my previous condition. I must thank you all, emphatically, for my extrication."

"Your what?" JD asked.

"For freeing me," Ezra offered. "From an unfortunate circumstance."

"It must have been perty bad there," JD said, looking down at his feet.

Ezra did not answer immediately. He fretted with the bindings on his arm for a moment and then answered, "It was not agreeable."

"What was it like?" JD asked and received deadly glares from the other men.

"Dark," Ezra replied. "Mostly dark..." he turned his head slowly and seemed puzzled by he sight of the blanketed windows. "And cold and quiet and far away." He turned his gaze back to JD, his voice sounding as distant as the words he chose. "Very far away."

"Sure as hell glad to have you back," Buck put in, trying to distract Ezra from his thoughts.

"It is a pleasure to be back," Ezra conceded and smiled as much as his bruised face would allow.

"I just need you to know that," Chris said. "We all did whatever we could to find you."

"We were plenty anxious to see your return," Josiah added.

"We looked for ya, Ez," Vin said. "I cain't tell ya how hard we looked. We looked pretty much everyday...everywhere."

Buck sank down beside the bed and pulled off his hat. He grasped it in his hands as he said, "I'm sure as hell sorry, Ezra."

Ezra blinked at him. "Why should you be sorry, Mr. Wilmington?"

"I was there..." he trailed off, looking up to Vin. "I was at the ranch and I didn't even think to check... hell, ah hell, Ezra.... I jus' left ya there...again. I sure as shit should'a known better this time."

JD stepped up beside Buck. "Me too, Ezra. We was both there. We was both at the Vaughn Ranch and we didn't think to check in that pit. We let it happen once and we gone and done it again." JD kept his eyes on the ground. "Jeez, Ezra, we done left you there. We could'a gotten you out a whole day sooner if we had only thought to look."

Chris glared at the two, ready to cut them off. Ezra wasn't up to this right now.

"But you were there," Ezra said, squinting between them. "I remember you were there to free me."

"And I'm the one who let you into the mess in the first place," Vin put in. "I was s'pose to be keepin' a watch on the town. I didn't stop those men from takin' ya."

"And they would have had you, too," Ezra replied. "I remember. You were there -- freed me. Thank you." Ezra closed his eyes, weary from the effort of talking.

Part 30:

"I will seek it out and find it!" Vin carefully read. He sat hunched over the book, his forehead scrunched as he puzzled over the words, pronouncing them each slowly. "But where was it to be found? The gentleman-in-waiting ran upstairs and downstairs." Those were long words, he thought. He was glad that he had been able to sound them out and make sense of them. He had to work on the word 'found' a bit, but managed it. "And in and out of all the rooms and corry...corry-doors." He looked up and asked, "Corry-doors?"

"Corridors...it's another way of saying 'hallway'," Ezra answered, nestled in pillows with his eyes shut.

Vin nodded and continued, "No one of all those he met had ever heard anything about the nightingale." He still stumbled over that word, even though he had come across it several times before in the story. The silent 'gh' bothered him. There seemed no point to it. A silent 'e' he could understand, because it had a purpose...but the 'gh'? Why bother?

"So the gentleman-in-waiting ran back to the emperor and said that it must be a my-eth." Vin frowned. He had dealt with 'emperor' earlier and knew what that was...here was a new one. "My-eth?"

Ezra sighed and said quietly, "I'm as befuddled as you... perhaps you could spell it."

"M..Y..T..H."

After a moment Ezra opened his eyes and replied, "Myth. An untruth...a story, often a legend of some sort. Believed by some...discounted by most."

"Kinda like what Jock Steele done to us in his book?"

"The exact definition of mythic proportions." Ezra turned toward the covered window. He saw the shadow of a bird pass over the shaded opening and heard the confused flutter as the bird adjusted its path. The shadow was there for only a moment, but Standish continued to gaze where it had been.

"Yeah." Vin nodded and continued at his usual labored pace. "It must be a myth, invented by writers of the book. 'Your im-pee-ree-al...ma-jah-est-ee...'." Vin sighed in frustration -- more big words that he had never seen before. "Imp-ear-e-al Mah-je-stay." The tracker shook his head. "Don't know these words, Ez." He glanced up when Ezra didn't respond. "Ez?"

"Yes, of course," Ezra turned away from the place where the bird had been. "You were saying?"

Vin regarded his friend for a moment. "Ya wanna stop for a bit? Get some more sleep?" Nathan had said that Ezra needed rest still. The gambler looked tired and thin. His bruises were livid against his pale skin, and his unshaven face added to the strangeness. He had no energy and seemed so distant most of the time. Nathan hadn't been able to get him to eat anything yet. Ezra complained that his stomach wasn't up to it and would try later.

"We could start up again after ya take a cat-nap or somethin'?"

The book had been Vin's idea. Tanner had borrowed it from Billy Travis -- the boy had said that the book had some good stories in it. The name of the author, Hans Christian Andersen, certainly sounded important. At least, with the stories, it gave Vin something to do while he sat with Ezra -- and it gave the unnaturally quiet gambler a requirement to respond to him.

Vin had been continuing his reading lessons under Mary Travis' tutelage, but he still remembered the time that he and Ezra had spent with that book about South America. He remembered how reading the book made time fly by as the two of them were held captive by Clem Vaughn. Tanner hoped that this current attempt at reading aloud wasn't reminding Ezra of that pit that he had just escaped from.

"Ez?" Vin questioned when Standish didn't respond to his question. "Ez?"

"Forgive me. I'm afraid that my mind was wandering," Ezra explained.

Vin turned the book over to save his place and said, "You were thinkin' of that cell? Is this reminding you of it"

"No, this is not reminding me. Nothing in particular does. It's simply difficult to forget," Ezra replied. "But I shall, in time, be able to put it aside. It's not your concern."

"Damn it, Ez," Vin sighed. "'Course it's my concern."

Ezra blinked at him. "Truly, Mr. Tanner, it's something for me to deal with on my own."

"Ya know that ain't the case, Ez."

"I was there alone and thus must come to grips with it on my own."

Vin sighed deeply. "I wish it weren't like that. You know I would'a changed it if I could."

"Mr. Larabee told me of your self-less actions," Ezra said matter-of-factly. "Of how you allowed Mr. Vaughn and his associates to attack you in hopes that you would be brought to where I was being kept."

"Just wanted to find you..." Vin said, fingering the spine of the book.

“Your actions weren't wise."

"Yeah, I s'pect yer right."

"If anything had happened to you, Mr. Tanner, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. I won't have you sacrificing yourself on my behalf. Mr. Larabee would never forgive me."

"Hell, Ezra," Vin moaned. "Chris was as worried as any of us about ya. Ya think he didn't want to get ya back?"

"I wouldn't have it at your expense." Ezra turned from Vin and gazed at the far wall.

"Well, you didn't have much of a say in the matter," Vin grumbled. "Damn, you can be such a pig-headed, son-of-a-bitch, ya know?"

"True," Ezra agreed.

"Cain't ya just accept the fact that we was all as worried as hell about you, and were doin' whatever we could to find ya and getcha back home with us?"

Ezra was silent for a moment, blinking at the wall in the too-strong light. "Sometimes, it's difficult. I suppose that I'm ...unused to such ministrations."

"Yeah, well, you'd better get used to 'em... ministrations or whatever." Vin sighed, as Ezra continued to stare at the wall. Okay then, Tanner thought. I can be as stubborn as he is. Vin stood and crossed the room until he was standing in front of Ezra. "Ya gotta remember that ya got friends here, Ez," he said, ducking to get in line with Ezra's gaze. He smiled when the eye focused on him. "Yer not alone here. Ya know, if you ever want to say a thing or so about somethin' you can say 'em to me."

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said softly. "I'll try to remember."

"I sure as hell hope so," Vin declared and strode back to his chair, glancing at the regulator clock as he passed it.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be, Mr. Tanner? I don't want to keep you from it."

"Yeah, but don't need to go quite yet. Gotta wait for Nate in any case."

"Don't be late on my account."

Vin sighed and pointed to the book. "Ya want to hear more of this, ya stubborn, southern, pain-in-the-ass?"

"Imperial Majesty..." Ezra said.

Vin snorted.

"Imperial Majesty," Ezra repeated, "Is a manner of addressing an emperor."

"Huh?" Vin picked up the book and found his place. "Oh, yeah...okay 'Your Imperial Majesty must not believe everything that is written; book are often me-re...ah...mire?"

"Mere? It means only."

"Okay then...'books are often mere invention"..." Vin smiled, remembering that t.i.on. was pronounced shun.

Part 31:

Chris sat with one arm propped up on his knee, his head resting on that hand. He watched as Nathan tried to feed Ezra some soup.

"I won't have you feed me," Ezra muttered, turning his head.

"Ya ain't eaten for a week; ya got one bum arm and you can hardly move a'tall," Nathan replied. "Jus hol' still and let me get some of this here food into ya."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "You paint such a lovely picture, Mr. Jackson. If I ever have the good fortune to entertain friends and neighbors at a dinner party, the invitations are sure to request the guests attend to 'get some of this here food into ya'."

"This ain't no dinner party, Ez," Nathan growled.

"Obviously. This is hardly an apt meal for any occasion."

"Ezra," Nathan grumbled.

"I'll manage it myself," Ezra glared back at the healer. He had been sleeping in fits and starts all day, and still looked horrible, with his face more purple than beige, his eyes just barely visible beneath the bruises. He still shook whenever he exerted himself with such simple tasks as sitting up, was far too thin, but at least he wasn't flinching away at every movement Jackson made anymore. His eyes were still somewhat sensitive to the late evening light, but Nathan had removed the blankets from the windows. The curtains were still kept tightly shut.

Larabee smiled, watching the gambler bridle under the healer's care. It was good to see some fight in him. Standish had been rather passive since he woke up, accepting whatever concoctions Nathan foisted upon him without comment. But, the gambler had already refused to take any more laudanum, after it had made him throw-up rather explosively earlier in the day.

"You can't manage," Jackson said tiredly. "Look, if I letcha do this on your own, you'd just get soup all over you and then you'd be after me for leavin' ya in stained clothing."

"Put a bib on 'im," Chris said from his seat.

Both men turned to Larabee -- one with a look of alarm, the other with a wide smile.

"That's what we did with Adam when he was little," Chris continued. "He kept cryin' about wantin' to eat like a big boy and we let 'im. Just had to take certain precautions."

"Sure, Ez," Jackson said, turning his smile on the southerner. "A bib...just like a big boy."

"Certainly not!" Ezra responded sharply. "I'm not a child!"

"Look, Ezra," Jackson sighed, setting down the bowl. "Here's your options. Ya let me feed ya. Ya do it yerself and get ta stay in whatever mess you make -- I ain't gonna change yer nightshirt just 'cause ya want to be stubborn. Third choice is ya get ta wear a bib and do whatever the hell you want."

Ezra frowned, a barely noticeable expression under his bruised complexion. "If we were to refer to it as a 'ascot', perhaps I would choose the third choice."

Chris shook his head as Nathan stepped across the room for a cloth to tie around the gambler's neck. "Ascot then," Jackson said.

The gambler did allow Nathan to hold the bowl, which the healer did patiently and wordlessly, as Ezra slowly managed to feed himself the quickly cooling soup. Truth be told, he did a fine job of keeping the 'ascot' clean, managing to spill only a few drops onto the cloth. Ezra smiled triumphantly at this fact. Finally, his arm shaking too badly to allow him to continue, and adding to the spots, Ezra declared that he was full and waved Jackson away.

"Ezra," Nathan sighed, "I need you to finish this up."

"I'm afraid that my constitution won't allow it," Ezra replied. "My stomach already feels somewhat... unsettled."

Nathan nodded, and patted Ezra on the shoulder. After going for so many days without eating, Nathan didn't expect him to eat very much. "Well, we'll try it again later then." He removed the ascot and tossed to the table at the side of the room.

Ezra drew in his breath sharply as Nathan helped to settle him back on the pillows. "Sorry, Ez," Nathan said solemnly.

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson, for your assistance. It was much appreciated."

"Anytime, Ez," Nathan replied.

"Perhaps, a bath might be forthcoming? And a shave..." Ezra rubbed his whiskered face and repeated, "Definitely, a shave."

"We'll see. Depends on whether you behave yourself." Jackson would prefer to see Ezra's face heal a bit before a shave was attempted, but he had a sinking feeling that this was not going to happen. Ezra would keep at him for it until he relented. Jackson promised himself that he'd be strong this time and not give in.

Ezra grimaced, then turned to Larabee. "I hope you enjoyed the entertainment. I'm afraid the excitement generated by my supping upon soup was rather wanting."

"Just glad to see that you're eatin', Ez," Chris admitted. Then, not letting Ezra have a chance to respond to his comment, he said, "You want to tell me about what happened."

Ezra sighed and looked away from the leader. "It's about as dull as the performance you just witnessed."

"I'd like to hear it," Chris said genuinely. “Tell me.”

Ezra fixed his gaze on the corner of the room and said, "The five of them approached me in the Redbird and captured me with little difficulty. They bound me...beat me...and imprisoned me until you were able to find me." He turned his gaze back to Larabee. "A short and perfectly unimpressive story."

Chris returned the gaze and said, "Any more to it than that?"

"The details would add little."

"You knew who it was -- who was behind all of it?"

"Randall Vaughn," Ezra answered.

"You know why it happened?"

Ezra tipped his head and replied, "He was seeking retribution for the deaths of his brothers."

Chris sighed. He knew that would be the answer -- he just needed to ensure that his belief was true. "So none of this would'a happened if it weren't for me. It's all because I killed that kid, Aaron."

"If I recall the story correctly, you killed Aaron Vaughn in order to protect a young lady who required assistance. He had already murdered more than one of her profession, and he was in the process of continuing these actions." Ezra was obviously tiring again. He furrowed his brow at his own weariness. "And as for the death of Clement Vaughn, he was killed in self defense. He was aiming at you."

"He was trying to kill Vin an' you, too."

Ezra nodded in concession. "Yes, that as well. It seems to me that the deaths of the Vaughn brothers were justified and you have no reason to accept the blame for this incident."

The gambler sighed tiredly and added, "Everyone feels that there is blame to be taken. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Sanchez apologize to me constantly due to my own bad humor as they administer to my medical needs. Mr. Tanner cannot stop blaming himself for his inability to be omnipresent --feeling that he had to be patrolling the area AND in the Redbird at the same time. Buck and JD feel they must be omniscient -- knowing exactly where I was when I was hidden from sight. You, of course, feel that you must be omnipotent -- powerful enough to protect us all. We are an omnium-gatherum by any account."

"Omnium-gatherum?" Chris questioned.

Ezra yawned and said, "A miscellaneous collection."

"Bit of a stretch," Nathan put in.

Ezra shrugged. "I was about to state that you were omnivorous, Mr. Jackson, but I thought that was going a little too far on a theme, and perhaps the term was more fitting of Mr. Wilmington...he will, indeed, eat anything." Ezra closed his eyes and shortly after that he drifted off to sleep.

"How long until he's on his feet again?" Chris asked once he was certain that the gambler was sleeping.

"It'll be a few more days," Nathan admitted. "They really knocked the crap outta him. I got the infection under control, but he's still pretty damn sore. I'll keep him here for another couple days, then send 'im to stay in his own room. He ain't sleepin' too good yet, so I'm gonna want to keep an eye on 'im."

Part 32:

Larabee left the clinic, descended the stairs and walked into the darkening evening. A wagon was outside the livery and Vin, Buck and JD were unharnessing the horses.

"Boys," Chris said, looking at the three men. They were completely gray from head to foot -- boots, clothing, hands, faces and hair...all the same neutral shade of gray. The three men looked strangely ghostlike as they took care of the horses. The townspeople looked at them oddly and the gray lawmen remained casual in their actions, gazing back at the people as if there was no reason for the strange looks they were receiving.

"You just gettin' back?" Chris asked as he approached them.

"Took longer than we reckoned," Buck responded.

JD flicked at the material on his face, it had cracked into a strange cobweb. "Yeah, we had to stop every now and again to let it cure a bit."

"Took a while," Vin put in. His long hair was matted with the stuff, big globs of the material hung in amongst the long strands.

Chris smiled grimly. "Looks like you got more concrete on the all you than you got in that hole."

"Well," Buck smiled. "We had to do somethin' while we waited."

The three had left earlier that day with a wagonload of concrete mix, and headed to the Vaughn Ranch. What was supposed to be a quick job, had stretched into a daylong activity.

"Buck started it!" JD tattled. "He shoved me right into the mixing trough!"

"I told you, it weren't me that did it," Buck grumbled. "Vin pushed me into ya."

"Lost my balance," Vin stated.

Chris sighed. "Ya finish it?"

"Yeah, we got it done," Buck said with a nod.

"We filled that hole with concrete -- all the way to the top!" JD exclaimed. "Even leveled it off real nice. If someone builds a new house over that basement, they may not even know the cell was even there."

"Ain't no one gonna be put in that pit again," Vin said seriously. "Never again."

Part 33:

Josiah waited beside the kerosene lantern and read aloud from "Midsummer Night's Dream," doing his best to perform the various voices, even though his audience didn't seem to notice the effort. From time to time he would look up to check on the man sleeping in the bed. Ezra was once again clean-shaven -- having demanded it of him when Josiah appeared in the room. The southerner certainly could be stubborn about such things. Ezra had fallen back to sleep immediately after the shave and had been peaceful up until this moment.

Ezra stirred and Josiah set down the book and waited. The gambler's movements were slight at first, moving his head to one side, raising his hand an inch or two, and sighing.

"S'alright, Ezra," Josiah said softly. "S'okay, now."

Ezra grimaced, turning his head in the other direction and groaning softly.

Josiah leaned forward. "Ezra, listen to me...listen. You're safe. You're here with us in Nathan's clinic. Do you hear me? You're not alone."

Ezra's movements became sharper as he tried to ball himself up again.

Josiah clamped one hand on Ezra's shoulder and the other arm firmly on his legs, knowing that he'd have to get a good grip on the man -- he'd skitter away otherwise or try to kick out. He felt Ezra pull against him and try to escape, but he held tightly. "Wake up, son," Josiah said urgently. "Ezra, wake up!"

Ezra continued to writhe, and Josiah felt his grip slipping. The damn slippery southerner would hurt himself if he kept this up. Josiah leaned close to Ezra's ear and shouted, "Ezra!"

Standish's eyes shot open and for a moment there was panic in his bruised visage, but his eyes focused and he saw Josiah face, just inches from him.

"Mr. Sanchez," Ezra greeted tiredly, his gaze taking in the preacher who was virtually on top of him. "Unhand me."

Josiah released Ezra and watched as the gambler tried to get comfortable. "I hope that I didn't startle you any," Josiah said.

"My word," Ezra replied. "I'm afraid that it was I who startled you. Damn embarrassing."

"You okay now?" Josiah asked seriously.

"Yes, quite, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra sighed. "Quite fine."

"You don't look so fine," Josiah responded, noting that Ezra was sweating and pale beneath his colorful face.

"I've been better." Realizing that more was demanded, Ezra continued, "I simply had a somewhat unhappy remembrance."

"You want to talk about it?'

"No."

"It might help."

"That's doubtful." Ezra pulled up his blankets and looked back to Josiah. "It's something I must deal with."

"Well, you don't got to do it by yourself. You're not alone, you know."

Ezra sighed and weighed his options. "Yes, Mr. Tanner has been informing me of the same thing." He realized that it would be best if he did speak a word or two on the subject. He drew a deep breath and said, "It was only a dream. I was still there. It was as if I hadn't been removed from that...place. I was alone." He shook his head. "I'm used to being alone so it is somewhat surprising that it should affect me so. I must be getting soft."

Josiah lay his large hand again on Ezra's shoulder and was grateful that the gambler didn't jerk away from him this time. "You have to know that we were always with you in spirit -- that we never stopped looking for you -- that all we wanted was to get you home." The preacher continued, "We just weren't whole without you. We're all here if you ever need someone to talk to about this."

Ezra looked beyond the preacher, remembering his dream - how vivid the blackness was -- how lonely. Ezra said nothing for several minutes, simply gazing back at Josiah and considering his options. "Perhaps we could talk for a short time..." Ezra said and trailed off.

"For as long as you want," Josiah pledged.

Part 34:

Three days had passed since they found Ezra. His bruises and gashes were healing slowly and as long as his arm was immobile, Nathan assured that it would heal properly. Nathan had finally untied the arm from Ezra's torso, on the promise that the gambler would keep it in a sling and not try to move the splinted arm at all. Ezra actually agreed to the arrangement, pledging that he'd keep it still for as long as Nathan wanted. After suffering through a broken bone...twice...he had no desire to go through it again.

"He's doin' pretty good," Nathan said as he sat with Chris in the Redbird. "After all he's been through, he's really in pretty good spirits. I've seen slaves beaten like he was and some of 'em make it through and some of 'em don't."

Chris nodded. "And you think he's gonna be one of those that makes it?"

Nathan explained, "I think a lot of it has to do with attitude. If ya got a strong enough will -- you can do anythin'. And I'd have to say that 'strong willed' sums up Ezra pretty tidily."

"I hear that he's been talkin' with Josiah and Vin quite a bit."

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, from what the two of 'em have told me, he had a pretty rough time there. It's good that he's talkin' to someone. I think it will help him a lot. Shows that he's willin' to get better."

A ruckus arose as the stage pulled into town. The coach was ahead of schedule.  Almost immediately, the passengers began disembarking.

"Hey!" JD shouted, leaning into the building. "Look who's here!"

"Well, I'll be a son of a gun," Buck said as he stood, peering out the windows of the saloon.

The men looked in disbelief as the door to the stagecoach was opened and a well-dressed woman stepped out with a rustle of skirts. Maude Standish paused for a moment and then caught sight of JD heading toward her.

"Hey there, Miz Standish," JD said. He glanced up at the harried coach drivers. The men looked just about ready to drop. The horses were lathered and panting in their traces. The other passengers huddled in the coach, watching the stately woman leave.

"Where is he?" she demanded. Her voice lacked the usual sugar they were familiar with. "Have you found him?"

"Miz Standish, hang on a piece," JD said, holding up his hands.

"Don't you try to deceive me, child. I'm an expert at that occupation and will know immediately if you are trying to pass off a prevarication," Maude scolded, stepping up to him. "Where is my darling boy?"

"Prevari..." JD started, wrinkling his brow.

"Maude," Chris greeted as he joined them.

The woman turned briskly and stated again, "Where is my child?"

"I thought you were on your way to Paris?" Chris said evenly.

Maude fixed him with a glare that they were all familiar with. "You will answer my question immediately," she said smoothly. "I have asked repeatedly and have not received a sufficient answer."

"Ezra's in Nathan's clinic," Chris answered directly.

"He's hurt?" Maude reached into her handbag for a handkerchief. "Is he all right? Please tell me that my dear son is all right." Chris would have thought it an act, but he saw true tears in her eyes and she seemed more unkempt that was her nature, paler and trembling. She looked tired. Maude dabbed her eyes and, when she spotted Nathan, she abandoned Chris and JD to speak to the healer.

"Is he harmed -- in any way? Is my dear boy hurt?" Maude asked Jackson.

Nathan stepped back as the woman approached him. "He's been pretty banged up, but he'll be okay," Jackson explained.  "He's got a thick hide."

"He's stubborn, if that is what you mean to say. I don't believe that 'thick hide' is really the right moniker for someone such as my son. His skin is really quite delicate." Maude nodded and continued, "I wish to see him immediately."

"He's asleep right now, ma'am," Nathan replied. "He can do with some sleep."

"He will see his mother," Maude stated. "I abandoned my trip to France and traveled by a horrendous railway then by coach to be at his side. The sheer cost of this venture should be reason enough..."

She was startled when Chris grabbed her by the arm. She glared down at his hand and said, "Is there something you want, Mr. Larabee?"

"Don't you dare badger him with cost of this trip," Chris ordered in a low voice.

Maude smiled mildly. "That shouldn't be a concern of yours."

Chris pulled the wrinkled envelope from his pocket and handed it to Maude. She glanced at the address, examined the state of the envelope and then looked back to Chris. "It appears that something meant for my eyes only has been opened and perhaps read by another," she stated curtly.

"Thought you should have it before you went to see him," Chris said simply. "Why don't you come and read it in the Redbird."

Maude glanced at the saloon indicated and nodded. "A libation would be appreciated. I would like the opportunity to freshen up as well before I see my boy, if that's possible. " She smiled and her whole demeanor changed as Josiah walked toward her. "Mr. Sanchez, so good to see you again."

Josiah strode up slowly, a boyish grin on his face. "Miss Maude, a pleasure. Might I escort you somewhere?"

"I've heard that the Redbird Saloon is an enjoyable locality to while away the hours," Maude flirted shamelessly.

"The very place..." Josiah said, offering his arm. He smiled at the others as he moved past them, then he said quietly to Maude, "I had the impression that you were on a ship bound for Europe."

"Merciful heavens," Maude exclaimed. "After that telegram you sent me, I immediately sold my ticket -- at a loss, mind you. I hadn't even time to retrieve my steamer trunk and it sailed without me. I had hardly a moment to breathe. I needed to be here as soon as possible. " She leaned against the preacher and asked, "He is all right, isn't he? Tell me my boy is all right."

"He's gonna be fine," Josiah assured as he pushed open the doors to the Redbird Saloon. "He just needs a little rest."  He paused, glancing about the saloon with a sense of pride toward its owner.  "I think you'll be quite comfortable here."

Maude smiled as she entered the clean little saloon with the portrait of Miss Viola and the red finch. "Yes," she said as she gazed around. "It's almost like coming home, isn't it?"

Josiah settled Maude at one of the tables and then sent Inez to look after her. The two women smiled familiarly to each other.

Chris strode up to Josiah and said under his breath, "What did you say in that wire?"

Josiah watched the two women chat amicably. "Told her what I thought."

Chris nodded. "And what would that be?"

"That Ezra was missing. That I thought she should be here. That her boy loved her and needed her. That we feared for his life. Thought he might be dead."

"Thought I said to 'keep it positive'."

Josiah nodded toward the table. "Got positive results."

"I talked to the coach drivers," Chris said. "Maude paid 'em a fair piece to get an early start. Made 'em leave one of their fares at the station 'cause he wasn't there yet. Kept at the drivers the whole way."

"Never can quite figure out these Standishes," Josiah said with a smile. "They'll surprise you at every turn."

The two men watched as Inez left the table and Maude opened the letter.

Part 35:

Ezra slept, luxuriating in the softness. Certainly, Nathan's bed didn't match the comfort of his own feather bed, but he had been promised that he would be allowed to return to it tomorrow. For the time being, the mattress on the bed in Nathan's clinic was the softest thing he had ever known.

He stirred and moved his head, aware of the light streaming in through the window. The curtains had been opened once his eyes became accustomed to the increasing brightness. He tried to move his left arm and was reminded again -- with a gasp --that it was broken. He sighed in frustration. It had only just mended well enough to allow him to use the arm again, and now he was one again encumbered by a splint. Certainly Nathan would force him to wear it even longer this time...not let him get away with doing without the sling.  He turned, trying to move onto his side, but he was still so stiff. He groaned as he abandoned the attempt, and settled in the incredibly soft bed.

Something stirred in the room, he listened carefully, trying to ascertain who it was. He used his well-attuned senses as he continued to close his eyes against the light in the room. There was a crinkling sound of petticoats...the sweet smell of perfume. A woman...the scent familiar.

"Mother?" he said softly and turned his head toward the presence. It couldn't be...he must be dreaming. He opened his eyes slowly and was rewarded with the sight of the woman in question, sitting stiffly beside the bed. "Mother? Why are you here?" he asked, and studied her face. She looked distraught over something. "Has something happened?"

The woman furrowed her brow. "Has something happened? Dear boy, what sort of question is that?"

"A legitimate inquiry..." Ezra replied.

Maude frowned. "You disappear for nearly a week, are bound and held captive, nearly beaten to death..."

"Mother, I wasn't nearly beaten to death," Ezra said with a sigh.

Maude actually sounded as if she choked back a sob. "Well, it looks that way to me. My Lord, your beautiful face...your arm.."

When she had entered the room an hour earlier, she had nodded appreciatively to Nathan and asked to be left alone with her convalescing son. Once the healer departed, she had sat in that chair and cried. Her son... her darling boy...his face seemed to be one large bruise, various shades of black, blue, purple and yellow. Good Lord, she had thought, how could they hurt him so? His left arm was splinted, his chest was strapped, and he was so terribly bruised. He was so thin and pale. She had noticed that one of his ears had a chunk taken out of it... small but noticeable when she leaned close to him -- long healed now. When did that happen? she had thought.

Ezra had moved uncomfortably in his sleep -- quiet moans escaping him. She had dried her tears and waited when his movements had increased -- signifying that he was waking. And now, here he was, awake and confounded. He didn't seem to realize why she was here.

"Darling, you are flat on your back and can hardly move. Do you think I haven't heard the sounds you've been making? You are in a sorry state."

Realizing his inappropriate posture, Ezra struggled to get his good hand under him and leverage himself into a sitting position. "Please forgive my impropriety," he said through gritted teeth. "A gentleman should at least sit up in the presence of a lady -- such as you are."

"Stupid, foolish boy," Maude declared, leaning forward to help her son, maneuvering the pillows behind him and settling him back against the headboard. It was frustrating how difficult this was. She should at least be able to help her own son sit up.

Once he was able to catch his breath, Ezra examined her face and saw the paleness of her complexion, the worry etched there, the redness of her eyes. Was that because of him? "I'm fine, Mother. Truly."

"That is a statement of dubious validity if I have ever heard one," Maude snapped.

He grinned and drawled, "It looks worse than it is, Mother. I'm feeling much better." He shifted, trying to get comfortable in his new position and then said, "You should be halfway across the Atlantic by now. Did the ship fail to leave port? Was there a problem?"

Maude stood suddenly, her face darkened. "The ship fail to leave port? A problem? Dear Lord, son, did you think I wouldn't come? Your Mr. Sanchez sent me a most urgent telegram. How could I ignore it and not come immediately to this inconvenient little town of yours?"

Ezra sighed. "I'm very sorry, Mother. I'd no intention of diverting your sojourn from the City of Light. It must have been a difficult choice, all in all." He smiled mildly. "Paris would be lovely this time of year."

Maude turned her back to the bed and moved slowly to the window, afraid of the words her son had just used. A difficult choice... how could he think that... why would he think that? Of course, she had made similar choices in the past... choices she sometimes dreaded now.

"Yes," she said, "Paris would be lovely."

"I shall go someday," Ezra said wistfully, plucking at the sheets.

She turned back to face her bruised child. His handsome face was so horribly altered. He looked so hurt, so pained. "Then you'll go with me as I'd originally planned. It'll be simple. We will take the next train eastward."

"Mother..." Ezra sighed and shook his head. "I'm hardly fit for travel."

"Then I shall wait. We'll go when you're able."

"Mother, I..." Ezra continued to pull at the sheets.

"There'll be no questioning this." She bustled back to the bed. "Think of it, darling. It'll be just like old times. We're marvelous together. There has never been a more capable team."

"I've found a rather capable team here," Ezra said softly.

"But Ezra, is it enough? You know that the longer you stay in one place, the worse your chances are of running an appreciable con. They will learn your tells." She frowned. "Your chances at making a decent gain will be negligible."

Ezra considered this for a moment and then responded, "There's more than one type of gain, Mother."

"But remember how well we work together, dearest."

"What I remember, Mother..." Ezra paused. "Mother, what I remember more than anything is the times that you left me alone."

Maude drew her mouth to a thin line. "I did the best I could for you," she said softly. "I couldn't very well tote you along wherever I went. You were just a child. It would never have worked. It would have been... inconvenient. Dear boy, I tried to provide the very best for you. To allow you to have a home that I couldn't provide."

"Home?  True homes were few, Mother." Ezra's voice grew soft in an old memory, then he gestured out the window. "This is the closest thing I've had to a home in a long time."

Maude shook her head. "This isn't a home, darling. It's beneath you. You deserve so much more. It's here that you are so abused. Why didn't you tell me that you'd been so badly wounded a month ago?"

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Was I? Perhaps it slipped my mind."

"Don't get smart with me, young man. You write to me every week. Why didn't you tell me."

"I didn't want to alarm you unnecessarily." Besides, Ezra thought, there had been times in the past when similar messages had gone unheeded. He saw no need to repeat such mistakes. Ezra cocked his head at her. "And who exactly informed you of this...of my unfortunate circumstance of over a month ago?"

"Mr. Sanchez," Maude replied. "We had a nice little talk before I came up here."

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Mr. Sanchez does tend to exaggerate certain things."

"No," Maude responded. "I believe it is you that downplays things. If I'd known such things were going on, I would've insisted you leave here long ago. Dearest, you shall come with me to Paris."

"I can't, Mother," Ezra said with resignation. "Not at this time. My funds are tied up at present and I'll doubtfully have any liquid capital to work with for some time." A realization came to him. "I suspect that you've incurred a loss in coming here. Were you able to sell your ticket? Then, of course the cost of the train trip and the coach...did you need to bribe anyone to ensure a quick passage? I'll remedy this when I'm able. We must, of course, keep our books balanced."

"Ezra P. Standish!" Maude cried, her voice trembling. "Have you forgotten EVERYTHING I've taught you?" Her face was red with sudden rage. "Never! Never offer money unless you expect it to be taken!" She reached into her pocketbook and retrieved several bills. "Never offer money, PERIOD! Good Lord, child, what were you doing all those years that I trained you? Were you EVER listening?"

She flung the bills onto the bed and turned quickly, not meeting the startled expression on her son's battered face.

Part 36:

Maude stormed into the Redbird Saloon, her skirts billowing about her like a thunderhead. She came to a sudden stop in the doorway and composed herself before she searched out Chris Larabee.

She closed the distance between them and glared at the man. "I need to speak with you."

"Sit down, Maude," Chris said. "I 'spect I have a word or two for you."

"My son..." she began as she sat. She settled her skirts and started again. "My son is in a wretched state. Have you seen him? He is literally bruised from head to foot and in considerable pain."

Chris sighed. "He's feelin' a mite better lately."

"Is that meant to console me?" Maude asked incredulously. "What you're saying is that his state was worse before this? Is that meant to make me feel better?"

Chris shook his head. He had as much luck talking to Maude as with her son. "I'm just meanin' to say that he's back with us and is improving. We got him back all safe and sound now."

"Hardly either safe or sound. 'Sound' implies that he would be in perfect health. Good Lord, he's as thin as a rail and weak as a babe. He can hardly move. His beautiful face is so battered -- will it ever return to normal? His arm... what if his arm is permanently damaged? Mr. Sanchez tells me this is the second time in little more than a month that the same arm has been broken," Maude said bitterly. "Don't tell me that you expect nothing to come of this. My boy's hands are his bread and butter. If anything is to happen to his dexterity..."

Chris leaned away from the woman, she was a formidable force when agitated. "Nate says that it should be alright. He'll keep Ezra splinted up as long as he can, but you know how Ez can be..." Chris said, trying to lighten the woman's mood. "He never seems to know what's good for him with things like that."

"Don't try that tone with me. This is not something to take lightly. I had to hear from Mr. Sanchez that own my flesh-and-blood nearly died last month in the pursuit of this regrettable career in law."

Chris sighed. Why did Josiah have to tell her about that? Ezra had nearly died in Kotter's Ridge while trying to stop Dean Hunger and his men from killing a boy. The outcome of the incident was that three men from the Lazy G died, Hunger lost four of his men, Hunger and his associate Cummings were imprisoned, the kid was safe and Ezra was hurt.

"He was tryin' to help a kid in trouble," Chris explained. "Tryin' to do the right thing."

"It was due to his current occupation. He wouldn't have been in that locality if he wasn't 'investigating' the sound of gunfire. He wouldn't have been placed in such a position if it weren't for this deplorable dollar-a-day profession that you have forced him into."

"Maude, you should know better than anyone that there ain't no 'forcing' Ezra to do anythin'. 

"He wouldn't have entered a gunfight if it weren't for this ridiculous occupation. He knows better. He knows to look out for 'number one' because if he doesn't, who will?"

"He has us to look out for him."

"Well, you failed that rather miserably." Maude sat back and crossed her arms. "Safe... did you use the word 'safe' a moment ago -- safe and sound?" Maude said mockingly, her voice rising. "He was taken from this very business. He was standing right here... right here beside this very table," She pointed to the wooden floor of the Redbird. ".... his own saloon... safe! How are you to assure me that such a thing won't happen again?"

"Maude," Chris said quietly, trying to calm her. The other patrons of the saloon had begun looking at them in surprise. "He's back now... he's okay."

"And why was he imprisoned? Why was he so brutally attacked and removed from the safety of his own business?" Maude said, her voice suddenly becoming quiet and calm.

Chris said nothing for a moment, watching Maude's face. It was that same poker face that he was familiar with -- but had never become used to.

"Because of me," Chris replied, knowing that Maude was already aware of the reason. "Because a man wanted revenge against me."

Maude stood regally. "Ezra will come with me to Paris as soon as he is able to travel."

"He's a grown man, Maude..." Chris said with a sigh. "He gets to make his own decisions."

"He is my child. You have no idea what it's like Mr. Larabee...what it's like to have a child. You don't know the time and effort I have gone through to give him the best life possible. The training, the discipline, the expense. You don't understand what it's like to worry about him...to want to keep him safe from harm...." She stopped suddenly, noting something in Chris' expression.

"You have a child, Mr. Larabee?" Maude inquired.

Chris nodded sharply. "I had a boy."

Maude paused, noting the use of past tense. "I'm sorry," she said gently. "Let me offer my condolences at your loss. My boy neglected to inform me."

"Probably realized I didn't want folks to know," Chris said. He found he could not look at Maude.

"Then you'll understand what I'm saying," Maude continued. "If you could find a way to have kept your boy safe...safe and sound...wouldn't you do anything to do so? Anything?"

Chris pursed his lips and stared at a flaw on the table. "I'd do anything," he agreed.

Maude nodded. "This is a fine establishment," she said as she walked away. "My son should be proud of what he's done here."

Part 37:

"He's not gonna go," Buck said emphatically. "He ain't goin'. He just ain't goin'."

Nathan shrugged. "He might," he said. "Think about what's happened to him lately. I mean, I'd want to get away if I was him."

"I know that he's always had a fond spot in his heart for France," Josiah said solemnly. "He has spoken to me about wanting to visit the Lourve, to see the Champs Élysées, the Arc de Triomphe."

"Gosh," JD said, pushing back his bowler. "I'd like to see those places, too. Don't know what they are, but I'd still like to see 'em. I bet it's mighty fine."

"I suspect it is," Josiah agreed.

"I wouldn't blame him for goin'," Nathan concluded.

"He ain't goin'!" Buck said again and looked back to Chris. "You know it, Chris."

Chris hadn't said much since Maude had spoken with him yesterday. The horrible weight had come to rest on him. Ezra would never have been taken from this place if it weren't for Larabee's actions. Never would have been held with Vin in the first place. He never would have gotten shot up at Kotter's Ridge if Chris hadn't snagged him into this iffy life of law enforcement.

Could he honestly fight Maude's intentions? Could he honestly try to convince Ezra to stay? Hell, if he had been through the same, Chris figured he might leave this area, too -- want to get as far away from Four Corners as possible. He wished to hell that he could do something about it, because... damn it... he wanted Standish to stay.

He had grown used to the suave con artist. This past week, when Ezra was missing, only drove the point in further. Chris didn't want to see Ezra go. He missed Standish when he was gone. Four Corners wouldn't be the same without him. But how in hell could Larabee to ask Ezra to stay... after everything that had happened.

"Damn it!" Larabee heard Nathan's uncustomary swearing and watched the healer jump to his feet and hurry to the door.

Vin had Ezra by the arm and the two of them were walking down the boardwalk. The duo had just made it past the doorway of the saloon. Ezra had his favorite red jacket on, pulled over one arm and was walking gingerly with Vin's assistance. When Nathan burst through the doors, the two men winced.

"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Nathan asked, impeding their further progress.

"Walking, I would say," Ezra replied to Nathan's inquiry. "Not exactly a promenade..."

"I told you to stay put!" Nathan cried.

"Ya said he could go back to his room today and it's well past noon," Vin reminded, carefully keeping Ezra steady. "We figgured he's been waitin' long enough. I was just givin' 'im a hand."

"He goes back to his room when I say so!" Nathan commanded. Ezra had improved considerably. He slept much better now, his sleep uninterrupted by nightmares and he was up to eating a light diet. Jackson had planned to release Ezra from custody later that day, after another going over while he still had the man under his control in the clinic. Now that the gambler was on the loose, there would be no chance of pinning him down again. "Hell, the two of you are headin' right past. Not even comin' in. His room is upstairs! What happened? You seen me in here and attempted to escape?"

Ezra looked to Vin with a puzzled expression, eyebrows raised. Vin smiled back. "Escape?" Ezra questioned. "Now, why would I do such a thing."

"We was just gonna check on Chaucer is all," Vin explained. "Funny, Ez got the idea to check on 'im jus' as we come to the door here." Vin grinned and Ezra glared at him.

"Inside!" Nathan demanded, swinging the door wide and gesturing. Ezra looked exasperated and Vin steered him back through the doorway to their usual table. By the time he reached his chair, Ezra could hardly hold his own weight and collapsed somewhat gratefully.

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said as he settled himself, trying to find a comfortable way to sit on his still bruised body. He tugged at the sling around his neck.

"No prob, pard," Vin replied, finding his seat.

"I told you that Josiah and me would come get you!" Nathan admonished. "I don't want you wanderin' around on your own. Las' thing I need is for you to fall."

Ezra looked surprised. "But I wasn't alone. I had the estimable Mr. Tanner with me." He tipped his hat to the tracker.

"I'll deal with you later," Nathan said darkly and Tanner cringed.

Ezra cocked his head at Vin and then pointed to the tracker's head. "Mr. Tanner, you have something in your hair," he drawled.

Vin felt where Ezra had pointed and pulled out a gray clod. "Oh, yeah. I keep finding those," he said as he crumbled the material onto the table and then swept it to the floor, drawing a frown from the proprietor.

Ezra sighed and then looked back to Jackson. "I didn't feel the need to be carried through the streets and I did miss my feather bed. I've come to the conclusion that I've been disillusioned and disoriented. Your bed is, indeed, as hard as rock. I felt that the best medicine for me was my own comfortable quarters. Besides, I believe that you're trying to poison me."

Nathan rested his head in his hands. "I don't know why I try," he murmured.

The bartender appeared at the table with a mug of tea. Ezra glared at it for a moment. "Mr. Rutledge, I believe I have had my fill of teas. Mr. Jackson has been experimenting on me with his various blends and I've had all I can stomach."

"It's jasmine tea," Joe explained, "from China. Mrs. Potter brung it by. Said she had it sent in special from 'Frisco."

Ezra picked up the mug and sipped at it experimentally and then nodded appreciatively to the bartender who left the table. "I should speak to Mrs. Potter regarding her importer." He looked to Nathan and said, "Perhaps you should as well."

JD watched the interplay, nervously fingering his mug. Why in the hell didn't anyone ask the question? He certainly wanted to know the answer. "So," JD finally gave in. "Ya leavin'?"

Ezra, sipped at his tea again. After a moment he looked up at JD and then the others. "Who's leaving?"

"You," JD responded. "Your ma says you're goin' with her to Paris."

Ezra smiled. "Where is the dear?" He looked around and continued, "I thought, perhaps, I'd dreamed that she was here."

"At the hotel," Josiah replied. "Said she'd be back here tonight to start gettin' your stuff packed up. Said she'd facilitate the sale of the Redbird."

"Sale?" Ezra started to stand, but immediately gave up on that activity. "Sale? She cannot." There was a note of panic in his usually calm voice. His face dropped and he looked like a child who had just lost his favorite toy. "I hold the title this time. She can't buy it out from under me!"

"She's tryin to sell it FOR you!" Buck exclaimed. “Said she'd start askin' around to see if anyone was interested in it. I hear tell she's got a big fish on the line. Man ain't even seen the place yet and yer ma has him convinced that Redbird is a gold mine."

"She said she can get a fine price for it," Josiah continued. "The man in St. Louis is willin' to pay more than double what we've have put into it so far. She said that our investments should prove quite fruitful."

Ezra opened his mouth, but couldn't find words. "But..." he looked amongst them. "But I had no intention..." he sighed and sat back. "Double?"

Josiah nodded. "Said we'd all get a 100% return on our investment."

"Double..." Ezra said thoughtfully.

"Ya ain't gonna sell, are ya, Ez?" Vin asked. This was the first he had heard about this. "You all cain't think that's a good idea. I mean, it's YOUR place. It's YOUR saloon."

"It's his decision of course," Josiah said, gesturing to Ezra. "Ezra, if you are planning to accompany your mother to Paris, it may be a wise decision. Plus, there is the profit to consider." He looked seriously at Standish, knowing how the gambler felt about money. "You may not get this sort of offer again."

"I have no intention of accompanying her to France," Ezra explained. He was startled by the sighs of relief that he heard around the table. "And I'm afraid that I must inform you, I don't wish to sell the saloon at this time either. Your investments must remain where they are. I'm sorry to disappoint..."

"Great!" JD crowed happily as Josiah gave Ezra a hearty clap on the shoulder that almost collapsed him.

"Hot Damn!" Buck shouted. "Drinks are on the house!"

A hearty cheer went up from the patrons of the Redbird, drawing a fearful look from Ezra. "Mr. Wilmington!" he hissed, counting the people currently within the saloon. Good Lord, this would be expensive. The customers started rushing the table, shaking his hand, or nodding appreciatively from their corners.

"I think the profits can suffer a bit, just for once," Chris said, leaning toward Standish.

Ezra regarded the gunslinger for a moment and then glanced about at the others at his table. All of them looked so content, so happy. It seemed odd that they would accept his refusal to sell. They had invested in the establishment in order to reap a gain, hadn't they? But, of course, there was more than one type of gain.

Finally, Ezra shook his head and said, "No, no, no." With some effort, he managed to lean forward and pull a fold of bills from his boot. "The Redbird is to remain solvent. This is on me." He smiled at the others at his table, revealing the wad of money to them.

"Where'd ya get that?" Vin asked, remembering that the con man had very little money these days.

"From my mother," Ezra said with a quirk of a smile. "There was $400 that she felt the need to return. She is a good mother you know," he said this almost to himself. "She has always done her best for me -- taught me everything she knows -- given me opportunities that she never had. I know she wishes me well and feels that this little excursion to Paris might have kept me from harm, safe at my mother's bosom, so to say." He stopped speaking suddenly and a look of horror flitted across his face. "Now that's a disturbing image," he said, shaking the thought from his mind.

The men at the table laughed and Ezra smiled with them. Still, his smile turned somewhat sad, remembering the reason the money was given to her in the first place.

Drinks were distributed throughout the saloon...and Ezra watched in consternation as a few more interlopers slipped in when they heard the ruckus. Ezra mentally calculated the cost and sighed. He couldn't do this too often.

Part 38:

"Maude," Chris met the woman as she exited the hotel.

"Mr. Larabee." Maude strode up to him. "I believe there is a legal entanglement that must be rectified. I understand that the only reason my son is working as a lawman in this town is to earn a pardon for a crime he most definitely didn't commit." She held her handbag tightly.

"I need to talk to you a bit," Larabee said.

"No time for that, Mr. Larabee," Maude said, trying to move past him. "I must see to easing my Ezra out of this embroilment. Is there a way to speak to this Judge Travis immediately? Has an amount been set to free my boy of this charge? Would the judge open to accepting a contribution of some sort in order to change the sentence?"

"Maude, that stipulation expired months ago."

Maude paused, a look of surprise on her face that quickly disappeared. "And then I will need to meet with my son. He has told me that he needs to speak to me on a most important matter -- very insistent about it. He said that he wanted to talk to me before I purchased his ticket on the ship. He probably wants to ensure that I place him in First Class." She shook her head. "Such a difficult boy."

"Look, you had your chance to speak your mind to me. Now it's my turn."

Maude smiled slyly at him and asked, "And what would that be?"

"I need you to tell Ezra what you told me."

"What do you want me to tell him? That I think his current occupation is unhealthy? Ludicrous might be a better terminology? That only sheer stupidity and stubbornness has kept him here for so long?"

"Tell him what you said about the Redbird."

Maude sniffed. "It's too small and could be lighter, but it has potential. His improvements are quite fine, I do attest to that."

"Tell him that you're proud of 'im, Maude."

"Proud? For the decisions he's made? For misusing his God-given talents? For frittering away his life in this dusty town? For ignoring every opportunity I have given him? For offering money? For being nearly penniless? For risking his life for nothing?"

"It's not nothing, Maude. He's done a lot of good here." Chris met her gaze and said, "Are you telling me that his life was never in danger while the two of you were runnin' cons?"

"That's different, Mr. Larabee. There was money at stake."

Chris shook his head woefully. "And just how much money is his life worth?"

Maude opened her mouth to speak and then stopped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Larabee, but it seems that we will never see eye to eye on this subject. You just don't have the appreciation that Ezra and I have for such matters."

"He's a good man, Maude. He's a hell of a fine lawman and has done a lot for this town"

"Mr. Larabee, he was once a fair con artist, but he has fallen out of practice. It's deplorable to watch. He's wasted so much. He's had so much more opportunity than I, and yet he squanders it."

"Hell," Chris interrupted, angrily. "Can't ya find one thing worthwhile to say about him?"

Maude smiled. "We are not people who need to exchange such sentiments. Ezra knows what I expect of him."

"Can ya at least tell him that you love him?"

Maude touched her chest lightly. "But, Mr. Larabee, he knows that."

Chris leaned against the wall and sighed. "If I had the chance to tell my son one thing...just one thing... I'd tell Adam that I loved him. I don't think I said it enough to him. I'd do anything to tell him that just one more time."

Part 39:

Mother and son walked slowly to the awaiting coach. Maude watched her son's injured face as they made their way to the vehicle. The drivers looked down with trepidation.

"You should follow your mother's advice and purchase the dry goods store," Maude said as they walked arm in arm.

"Yes, Mother," Ezra replied.

"It would be an excellent investment. You could double the size of The Redbird, and thus increase the possible number of sales every night."

"Good idea, Mother."

"And the large windows in that establishment would go far in illuminating the interior."

"Excellent observation, Mother."

"It would save on kerosene and candles."

"Of course, Mother."

"I'm certain the old crone who owns the store could be easily plied. She certainly will sell for almost nothing in order to get out of the business and retire."

"If you say so, Mother."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Always, Mother." He turned to her and nodded.

Maude looked dubious and then sighed. "But you won't come with me?"

"I'm sorry, Mother dear, but I must remain. I'm needed here."

Maude harrumphed. "I'm sure that a replacement could be found for your position as lawman."

"You'd be surprised, Mother. Not everyone wishes to be associated with these men. They've been known to be somewhat menacing."

"And you choose to remain with them?"

"Their menace can be diverted. One only needs to apply one's talents correctly."

"Paris, Ezra..." Maude enticed.

Ezra smiled, revealing his gold tooth. "Four Corners is enough for me at this moment. I believe I have found a home of sorts here. I should stay for a while yet and see what comes of it."

"It isn't much, Ezra," Maude said sadly. "You could have so much more."

"It's enough," Ezra ensured. "Truly, Mother, it is more than I had ever hoped for. It’s more than I deserve."

Maude studied her son. She thought she knew everything about him. How could he still surprise her?

They had reached the vehicle by this time. "I wish you a safe journey, Mother. And please, for goodness sake, don't harass the drivers extensively. They are capable of 'putting you out' if you become impossible to stand."

"You should learn to respect your mother," Maude spoke sharply. She made a quick appraisal of the other passengers in the stage, choosing her marks and deciding upon a strategy. Ezra swung open the door and offered his arm. She lightly lay her hand on the offered arm and put no weight on him as she stepped into the coach.

"Of course, Mother," Ezra responded and slammed the door behind her. "I wish you well and hope your trip is highly successful."

Maude looked at her son. His face was slowly returning to its normal shade and he seemed to be standing without much difficulty. His wrists were no longer bandaged, but displayed the healing scars left by the ropes. He was still entirely too thin. He had always been a light eater and no amount of pestering could make him change his ways. It would be some time before either his arm or ribcage would be released from their bindings, but Mr. Jackson had assured her that he would be perfectly all right.

She stared at his dimpled face and his sharp green eyes -- her son -- her darling boy. She wondered what it would be like to never gaze upon him again. She leaned out the window of the stage and clasped her hands around his neck, pulling the young man toward her and embracing him fiercely.

"Don't you EVER do that to me again!" she growled into his ear.

Ezra tried to step back but she continued to hold him tightly. "Mother!" he called in alarm, glancing out of the corners of his eyes to see if anyone was watching. "...appearances..."

"Never, Ezra!" she scolded. "Never again!"

"Of course, Mother," Ezra responded, still trying to get away, but finding he was held even tighter.

"I'm proud of you, son," she whispered, so softly that Ezra wasn't even sure he had heard. "I can't begin to tell you how much..." she kissed him suddenly and released him. Ezra, not ready, took two startled steps backward to regain his balance.

"Mother?" Ezra touched his cheek with his free hand.

The coach drivers, seeing that the gambler had stepped back, put the coach in motion. "Ezra!" Maude called out sharply as the horses picked up speed. There had been a promised bonus if the trip was completed quickly. "I love you, dear child."

Ezra stood in stunned disbelief as the carriage disappeared in a cloud of dust, hurtling back toward Ridge City. He couldn't quite move. It wasn't until the coach was long gone that he finally said quietly, "I love you, too, Mother."

Part 40:

Chris and the others watched the coach's departure from their table inside the Redbird. Several long minutes had already passed.

"He still standin' there?" Buck asked, his back to the window.

"Yup," Vin replied.

"Think we should go out and see if he's okay?"

"Nope." Vin nodded. "See, he's comin' now."

The six men watched as Ezra turned and slowly entered the saloon. He smiled when he saw them and headed to their table. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said as he sat.

"Did your ma get off okay? JD asked.

"Indeed," Ezra replied.

"Anything wrong?" Josiah asked, noting Ezra's contemplative face.

"No, not at all. She simply surprised me." He shrugged.

Chris raised an eyebrow, wondering if he knew what had been said. "Good to see you gettin' around better."

"Why thank you, Mr. Larabee," Ezra replied. "But, if you think that this means I shall be riding patrol shortly, you're mistaken."

"We'll see," Chris responded.

"I feel the need for a certain amount of recuperation and relaxation." Ezra smiled when Joe brought him a mug. "Thank you, sir," he said and then turned the others. "You really should try this jasmine tea. It is quite fine."

"Yeah, and what's the price?" Buck asked.

"Quite affordable. You will get your regular discount," Ezra reminded as he sipped at the mug.

Yes, Chris thought, it was good to have him back. He remembered the letter he had read, and the comment that Ezra had made in regard to the people he worked with... 'the finest gentlemen I have ever had the pleasure to know.' Goes double for me, Chris thought.

"So, Ezra," Chris started.

"Mr. Larabee?" Ezra leaned back in his chair.

"It's been botherin' me and maybe you know the answer." Larabee nodded to the portrait of Viola on the wall. "Is that bird a pet that's about to escape or is a wild thing that that girl's managed to catch?"

Ezra turned his head to the painting. "You are wrong on both accounts, Mr. Larabee." He brought his good arm to lay on the table and smiled. "You see, the artist was well schooled in the art of symbolism. Everything in a painting such as this has a meaning. If the bird were meant to be a tame thing, you'd see a cage in the corner, a perch perhaps. If it were a wild creature, coaxed inside, you'd see evidence of that. There'd be seed on the sill, a net on the table, or perhaps a thin chain -- half hidden in the girl's hand."

He turned back to face Larabee and the others. "The bird is neither tame nor wild, but perhaps some combination of the two. It comes and goes as it pleases, and is allowed to do so." He turned back to the painting and pointed. "As you see, there are cobwebs in the corner of that window. It's been open for some time."

"Ah, I see," Larabee said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin and examining the picture. "It's free to go, and yet it stays. Why's that?"

"Because it wishes to. It would leave if it felt the need, but it stays just the same."

"Why d'ya think that is?" JD asked.

Ezra shrugged. "Perhaps because it's happy." He squinted at the little red bird. "It does look rather content, for a bird, that is."

The other six men still gazed at the painted image and the conversation came to a halt.

In the quiet, Ezra watched his friends. They all seemed so comfortable, as if they truly enjoyed spending time here -- in his saloon. It was as he had always hoped -- had always dreamed. He turned his gaze out over the room and watched as another group of patrons -- townspeople -- entered the saloon. The business was crowded, more so than ever before. Word must have gotten out that there was the possibility (however slight) of free drinks if you happened to be in the Redbird at the right time. Ezra would have to remember that. If you offer free drinks every so often -- business increases exponentially.

It was really going rather well. How could he leave?

Chris turned to face the gambler, who was looking out across the saloon. The establishment bustled with activity. Chris grinned seeing that content look on his friend's face, as content as the little redbird in Viola's painting.

THE END

Do you want to read the next in this series? Across the Andes

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