RATING: PG
CATEGORY: Challenge - OW
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Chris, Nathan, Ezra and Josiah
DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the
television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy
Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that
production is intended.
NOTE: This is a sequel to A Gift of
Patience, which is a sequel to The
Winning Side
SUMMARY: Ezra recovers from the incident in A Gift of Patience and finally
gets to play that game
SPOILERS: ah, just my other stories
FEEDBACK: Yes please comments and suggestions
are greatly appreciated.
DATE: October 26, 2004
The Game's in Play
By NotTasha... I'd like to say, "I'm game", but more likely it's
"I'm gamey"
Chris Larabee moved easily down the November street,
enjoying the cool weather and the signs of autumn all around him. The
crisp air let him feel easier – better than he had in days. God, it
actually felt good to be alive! A few stray leaves tumbled in the
breeze and the signs of harvest crowded the storefronts. Yeah, he
was feeling better, but his improving mood, he admitted, had nothing to do with
the quality of the day.
He paused when he reached the livery and looked up toward Nathan’s clinic.
The last few days had been wretched – every trip up those stairs had only
brought him sorrow. But things had changed last evening. Chris
allowed himself a smile at that thought. Standish had awakened.
As he gazed up the stairway, he was surprised to see the healer there, seated
against the balcony’s railing. Nathan, relaxing outside the
clinic, was reason enough to feel even better – it meant that Ezra was able to
be without the healer’s constant supervision. Ah, it was a good day,
indeed.
Of course, Larabee reflected, Josiah’s probably in there right now, watching
over their brother. Ezra would have little privacy for a while – no
doubt. Not after what had happened to him, when the rest of them let their
guards down. Damn, that still ate at the gunslinger, tore at him.
They’d gotten too sure of themselves and had forgotten that the game wasn’t
over – that losses were still possible – penalties to be wrought.
He’d made a mistake. He’d allowed Ezra to be captured and nearly
killed, all due to his overconfidence. “Won’t happen again,” Chris
promised softly. “Won’t forget it.”
Nathan, feeling Larabee’s gaze upon him, turned, looked down the stairs, and
nodded toward the gunslinger inviting him up. Larabee needed no further
coaxing. He climbed the too rickety stairs, wondering again why Nathan
never sought to move his quarters. It’s a damn fool place to be
keeping sick people, Chris thought as he remembered how they carried Ezra up
these stairs just a few days earlier – bloody, bruised, broken and already
sick with fever.
Nathan leaned back far enough to watch Larabee make his way up and smiled.
“You enjoyin’ the day?” Jackson asked.
Chris suddenly caught sight of Josiah, leaning against the outside wall of the
clinic. “Gettin’ better and better,” Chris admitted, realizing that
if they were leaving Ezra to his own devices, then Standish must truly be on the
road to recovery.
Josiah nodded, and stated a soft, “Good morning, Chris.”
The gunslinger let out a short chuckle, little more then a, “heh,” when he
took his final step to reach the upper floor and spotted the third figure on the
balcony.
Ezra sat, nestled in blankets and ensconced in his rocking chair, beside Josiah.
The gambler gave Larabee a pointed glance as he pulled the coverings close.
“Mr. Larabee,” he drawled slowly.
Larabee tilted his head and he leaned against the railing, regarding the pale
and bruised southerner whose splinted arm rested in a sling at his chest.
“You look like hell, Ezra,” Chris commented dryly.
“As do you,” Standish responded smartly. “But I’m on the mend.”
His good hand found its way loose of the blankets and it gestured as he
continued. “I’m afraid there’s little to be done for you.”
“Hmmm,” Chris snorted. Since they’d freed Ezra from that gang of
desperados, three days ago, Nathan had fretted and fussed, distressed by the
southerner’s condition and his fevered mutterings. It was only late last
evening that Standish finally started coming around and speaking intelligibly.
Still, Jackson had insisted that Standish be kept quiet and immobile for the
next few days. “See you changed your mind about keepin’ him in bed,”
Larabee commented.
Josiah chuckled and Nathan scowled. “I was ready for some air,” Ezra
responded for them. “And better light.” With that, the gambler
leaned forward, and extended a hand to move something on the table beside him.
Chris tsked and shook his head as he moved closer to the trio, finally noting
the table that sat in their little circle. He came to a dead stop and peered in
interest. There sat a chessboard of white and rose marble and a chess set
unlike any he’d ever seen before. Half the pieces were carved of
mahogany, depicting African warriors – the other, of a pale wood, seemed to
represent figures from the War and the West. Ezra played the dark figures
while Nathan commanded the light.
Chris squinted at the nearest pawn and let loose a slow breath. “What
the…” he started as he reached for the pawn that sort-of resembled
himself.
“Do NOT touch the pieces in play!” Ezra spat out, giving him a
vicious glare in spite of his bloodshot and tired-looking eyes.
Larabee stilled his hand, letting it hover over the piece and looked to Nathan
who smirked. “Let it alone,” the healer chided.
Leaving his hand over the piece for a moment longer, Larabee scowled and
squatted down. Now, eye level to the piece, there was no doubting it –
the piece was carved to look like him. Hell, it was even scowling.
He glanced from Nathan to Ezra – who weren’t paying him any attention –
then to Josiah who grinned, showing his big white teeth.
Chris poked out a finger, wanting to just turn the piece to see more of it, but
instantly he received reprimands.
“The piece is in play!” Ezra exclaimed, his voice dripping with distain,
glancing to Josiah for support. “Incredible, the man can’t even follow
one simple rule of the game.”
“Leave it,” Nathan commanded, as one might discipline a dog that was after
one’s supper. “Let it alone.”
Chagrined, Chris straightened, then snagged another pawn that stood captured
before Ezra. He shot Ezra a look that stated he’d put up with no
further rebukes. The conman gave him a haughty look, but said
nothing. Damn him, Chris thought, wondering how he’d allowed
these people to order him around. He immediately recognized who was
depicted in pale wood: long hair, sawed off Winchester, spyglass,
obviously decaying jacket. “It’s Vin,” he uttered.
Ezra leaned back in his chair and stated, “It’s a pawn -- one of the pawns
I've managed to capture, and I request that you return it.” And he let loose a
slow breath as he closed his eyes.
Nathan gave the gambler a probing look as Josiah patted him gently on the
shoulder. “You ready to go back in now, son?” Sanchez asked sincerely.
“Not just yet,” Ezra responded. “A moment or two more… please.”
Chris’ gaze flicked between the three men, wondering if something should be
done, but neither Josiah nor Nathan made any further move regarding Ezra, so he
continued the scrutiny of the pawn in his hand. “This is amazing,”
Larabee murmured. Vin’s eyes seem to narrow at some distant sight.
His hand gripped the spyglass as if he meant to lift it to his face. The
seams of his jacket were almost falling to pieces before his eyes.
“Incredible.”
Ducking his head, Nathan murmured, “Oh, it’s nothing really.” And he
grasped JD, squeezing his head at the ears, and moved him forward to take out a
crouching warrior on Ezra’s side. “Just something… I… ah…Well,
it’s nothing.”
“Hardly,” Ezra returned.
“They’re works of art,” Josiah added, nodding to Nathan. “And
there’s the artist. And he kept all this secret for so long.”
And he gave his old friend an appraising look.
Astounded, Chris turned to Nathan and asked, “You carved all of these?”
“Yeah, well…” Nathan responded, scratching at the back of his neck as he
placed the taken pawn on his side. “Not the board,” he amended
quickly. “Ezra got that.”
And Josiah and Chris both looked at the conman in disbelief. Ezra yawned
and said, “I paid a dollar for it in a second-hand shop. It was in
deplorable condition. All it took were a few repairs. Cost me a
dollar-fifty in all and little effort.” He gestured again with his good
hand, waving toward Nathan. “He’s trying to divert your attention.
He’s the master carver and deserves all your acclaim.”
“Master carver?” Nathan repeated. “Now, I wouldn’t say that!”
“I would,” Chris returned.
“Me, too,” Josiah agreed. “And I’ve seen some mighty fine works of
art, Nathan. What you have here is something incredible…
unbelievable.”
Nathan felt his heart flutter and his face grow hot. He glanced down at
his work, seeing the faces of all those people – all the important people of
his life.
“It must have taken some time,” Chris stated.
“A lifetime,” Ezra commented softly.
Chris set down the figure of Vin and picked up the image of Buck from the little
captured group in front of Ezra. The southerner peeled open an eye and
quirked an eyebrow at him, looking annoyed. “Mr. Larabee…” he
started.
“Not in play…” Larabee said, mockingly as he waggled Buck at Ezra.
Ezra lifted a lip in irritation.
Buck was delightfully realized. The image smirked. There was something
playful about his stance, as if he were ready to leap forward to tackle one of
his brothers, yet his grip on his weapon was deadly, as if he had no problems
with using it if the time came. Larabee glanced at the other pieces
in front of Ezra, noting that little Billy Travis seemed to be among them.
Standish gave up his glare on Larabee and looked toward Josiah. “My
turn?” he asked.
“Yup,” Josiah responded. When Ezra drew in a sharp breath as he sat
forward, Josiah asked, “You tell me what you want to move and I’ll take care
of it.”
With a reluctant sigh, Ezra sat back in his chair. “Perhaps it would be
for the best.”
Still examining Wilmington in his palm, Chris suggested, “Take out my piece
next.”
“Never thought I’d hear the man so eager to be removed from play,” Ezra
commented dryly.
“Come on. I want to see it.”
“The move would not be wise at this moment,” Ezra stated. “I have
you protecting half my field.”
“Do it anyway,” Larabee growled.
Ezra grinned and some color seemed to come back to his cheeks.
“Patience, Mr. Larabee. Good things come to those who wait.” He
cleared his throat and requested, “Josiah, would you please move Miz Lizzy to
Pastor Grady?”
Josiah’s hand hesitated over the figure of a black woman warrior, crouching
without a weapon, and looked to Nathan for confirmation. The healer nodded
and Sanchez moved the piece as instructed, capturing the figure of a fat priest.
He settled the bishop among the other pieces that Ezra had already managed to
remove.
“And tell Mr. Larabee to keep his mitts off my detainees,” Ezra commented as
Larabee reached for the latest removed piece.
Josiah guffawed and Chris scowled. Nathan grinned at both of them. “They
ain’t in play,” Chris grumbled.
“Just the same…” Ezra responded with a yawn, closing his eyes again and
snuggling into his comforters. “The game is still in progress. One
must wait.”
Chris crossed his arms over his chest and glanced over at Nathan’s captured
pieces. The healer put his hands protectively over the assemblage and
shook his head. Damn it, Chris thought as he ground his teeth.
I don’t get no respect.
Nathan regarded the board and edged JD forward again. The boy sheriff was
taken out by Ezra’s next move, removed by another pawn, an annoyed-looking
warrior named Rodney who carried a spear and had a bone through his nose.
Josiah’s figure took out Rodney, and Sanchez’ double was in turn taken away
by a knight on a zebra – going by the name of John. Ezra sunk further
into his chair at every turn, watching the game through hooded eyes and
instructing Josiah with a soft, sleepy voice.
Finally, after Nathan went after one of Ezra’s rooks, Ezra slipped into sleep,
snoring every so softly as he nestled into his blankets.
The three men were quiet, watching the gambler slump further. “He gonna
be alright?” Chris asked candidly as he picked up the captured figure of JD
and held it carefully in his hands. Damn, the hat was so perfectly
carved, he could see the hole where a bullet had been sent through it.
Nathan regarded the sleeping southerner. Ezra had awakened late
yesterday evening. Nathan, having waited with all the patience he could muster,
had found Standish, laying in bed and gazing blearily at the chessboard.
Standish blinked at it as if he wasn’t quite able to fathom the sight.
“S’done?” Ezra had asked hoarsely.
“Yeah,” Nathan had answered, sitting down quickly beside Ezra.
“Hope you don’t mind I opened the box. I guess I couldn’t help
myself. Never’ve had any patience when it comes to things like that.”
And he smiled, unable to stop, as Ezra continued to gaze toward the chess set.
“Figure I couldn’t just leave the board sitting there waiting – I had to
get it all set up and ready for you.” He had wrung his hands as he said,
“Thank you… but why? I don’t understand why you got it for me.”
“Where were they?” Ezra had asked, licking his dry lips. “The
pieces.”
Nathan nodded toward the box beneath his cabinet.
“You owe me… a game,” Ezra stated.
“Soon as you can sit up proper,” Nathan had promised. And he kept
his word. Jackson would have preferred to keep Ezra a’bed for another
day, but Ezra had finagled a promise to let him out into the fresh air for the
game. A little sunlight and air would be good for him, Nathan had decided.
So, after sending Josiah to fetch Ezra’s rocking chair, they’d managed to
move the gambler out only a short time ago.
“He’s gonna be fine,” Jackson promised. “Just needs to rest up a
bit more. It’ll take some time, but he’ll be okay. That bullet
wound is finally healing proper. His arm’ll have to be in that splint
for a while though. Hope he can be patient enough to let it heal
straight.” Nathan shrugged as he stood. “But, right now, we just
gotta get him inside. Figure he won’t wake.”
And Josiah laughed again, long and hard. Chris realized how good it was to
hear Josiah laugh like that. “That boy won’t wake even if cannons were
thundering down these streets,” the big man stated gleefully.
Chris stepped back, watching as the healer and the preacher got into position,
then carefully lifted the slumbering gambler, blankets and all, from the chair.
With infinite care, they adjusted their grips, mindful of the healing wounds,
supporting the broken arm, letting Ezra’s head rest on Josiah’s shoulder,
and then they made their way toward the clinic.
Easily, Larabee got around them, opening the door and then reaching the bed so
that he could straighten the sheets and fix the pillows. They had Ezra
settled in his bed in no time at all.
Then, quietly, they filed out of the room and back onto the balcony. Nathan sat
down in Ezra’s chair and sighed. Rocking back, Jackson wondered why he
didn’t keep a chair like this in his clinic. Lord, it was worlds better
than his regular chair. Josiah leaned against the railing, breathing in
the crisp autumn air and Chris returned to his position beside the table and the
elegant chess set. His hand moved toward his own pawn.
“Leave it,” Josiah growled, sounding too much like a watchdog, as he twisted
in his place to fix a glare on Larabee.
“Game’s over,” Larabee declared.
“Not by a long shot,” Nathan shot back. “We’re finishing it as
soon as that fool wakes up again.”
Larabee scowled and declared, “It’s not as if it’ll make any difference if
I touch one of them.”
“Game’s still in play,” Nathan declared. He rocked back, regarding
the pieces from this new point of view. He’d been surprised when Ezra
declared that he wanted to play the dark pieces, but now he thought he
understood. From this seat he could see the faces of the white army –
there was Chris and Josiah, Nathan and Ezra still looking at him, still
fighting.
“The game’s still in play,” Nathan repeated softly and closed his eyes as
he rocked.
THE END - by NotTasha
Next story in this series? A Curious Game
Hope you enjoyed the story...comments and suggestions
Back to Index
