RATING: PG
CATEGORY: OW
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra, JD 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, TNN, the Hallmark Channel, Trilogy Entertainment
Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is
intended.
SUMMARY: Ezra, JD and Josiah are cooling
their heels in an artists' colony. It
brings up demons for Josiah. Ezra,
unfortunately, takes the brunt of it.
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments
and suggestions are
greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: None
DATE: June 25, 2015
For What It's Worth
By NotTasha
PART
1:
"So, what's it say?" JD
asked, leaning in as Ezra stiffly unfolded the telegram.
Ezra frowned for only a moment
before he grinned widely. "Success!"
he declared. "Our compatriots were
able to round up the last of the Burgess gang. They're currently under lock and key with the
Red Wash officials."
"Hey, that's great news,"
JD said, slapping Josiah on the back.
Ezra beamed and Josiah nodded thoughtfully. "How'd it turn out? They okay?" the kid asked.
"It seems that they had no
trouble," Ezra said. "They'll be at our current location tomorrow. Mr. Larabee asks that we remain here in Sweet
Haven until then."
"We shouldn't get started
for home?" JD clarified. "We
got our guys locked up now with Sheriff Abbott.
We could start out. I'm sure Buck
and Nathan could use some help back in Four Corners."
Ezra shrugged. "All is well at home and Sweet Haven is
along the trail that Misters Larabee and Tanner will be using. We'll be stayin' put until they arrive." He clenched one of his scraped and bruised
hands with a frown. "A day might
make it easier to grip Chaucer's reins in any case."
Josiah shook his head. "You should know better than to take on
a man like Reid Burgess."
"If I'd known I was going to
be attacking a brick wall, I would have come better armed with a battering
ram, perhaps. Dynamite?" Standish shook his head. "For what it's worth, I was simply
trying to subdue him. Travis wanted the
men returned alive."
JD nodded. "At least you didn't get hurt any worse,"
he said.
Ezra looked doleful. "My hands are my bread and butter,"
he said as he tucked the note into the pocket of his red jacket with a wince. "Next time, I'll try bullets instead of
fisticuffs."
Originally, five of them had
hunted down the five members of the Burgess gang, but they'd separated when the
gang split in two. On the second day of
searching, Josiah, JD and Ezra had surprised their men at a watering hole. Two of the members gave up easily, tossing
down their weapons and throwing their hands up.
Reid, one of the brothers, wasn't going to give up so quickly.
Ezra went after him, trying to
take him down with a series of blows to the head. Reid had taken the abuse without
flinching. When Ezra tried one more pop
to the chin, Reid had batted Ezra away like a fly.
By then, Josiah was upon him.
Following Josiah's thrashing,
Reid had given in and was compliant for the ride. He went to his cell with the others as meek
as a lamb. Josiah could be terrifying
when his anger was sparked.
But since they'd entered Sweet
Haven, Josiah's mood had shifted. He seemed
sadder and more withdrawn when he should have felt easier with their charges
finally locked up. JD didn't understand
it.
"So, we're here for the day,"
Josiah voiced dully.
"Yes," Ezra said. He looked up one length of the street and
down the other. "Gaming
possibilities seem bleak. The saloons
don't seem up to my usual standards."
JD glanced into a nearby
doorway. "Seems kinda quiet."
"I understand the streets
are usually busier with travelers coming up from Ridge City," Ezra
said. "It must be an off-season for
them." He sighed and added, "In
any case, this town is not known for its gamblers. They're geared more toward the artistic
types. It will be a long day for me."
Aw, Ezra," JD moaned. "There's plenty to do here. Look at all the shops."
Ezra rolled his eyes, and nodded
to the saloon beside them, a place called Blake's. "I'll start here," he said. "Doin' my best to get some sort of
profit out of this endeavor." He moved
his battered hands with a wince. "Perhaps
they have some ice? I fear I may have
difficulties shuffling."
"Sure you didn't break
anything?" Josiah asked.
Ezra nodded thoughtfully. "It'll keep me honest if nothing else." He grimaced as he pulled his flask from his
pocket. "I can refill this at least. It was a waste to spill such good malt over
these torn knuckles."
"I think you busted out what
teeth Burgess had left," JD said.
"The human mouth is a filthy
place," Ezra said. He looked to
Josiah and said, "You seem unnaturally quiet this afternoon, Josiah.
Anything amiss?"
Sanchez shook his head sharply,
obviously not wanting to talk about it.
Ezra seemed to accept the response. "Until later," he said. He smiled
as he touched the brim of his hat, and moved through the doors of Blake's
Saloon.
JD and Josiah stood at the heart
of the town, chock-a-block full of little storefronts where artists sold their
wares while a few people meandered in the street.
Sweet Haven had become an artists'
colony in recent years. It existed amid
red cliffs and stunning landscape, drawing in artists of all sorts. They came to paint and sketch, to sculpt and
design. Few left once they'd spent any
time here. The artists enjoyed finding
kindred souls amongst the townspeople and delighted in the chance to live among
them.
They must have received just
enough customers to remain alive here.
"Come on, Josiah," JD
said. "Let's go check out some of
this stuff. I bet we can find some
really nice things. Maybe someone would
like something as a gift." He drew
out his last line, thinking of Casey.
Josiah sighed deeply. His
expression was melancholy as he gazed from one shop to the next. "I'd rather not," he said. He glanced to Blake's Saloon to follow Ezra
inside, but instead turned to a darker looking establishment called The Green
Way. He disappeared within without
another word.
JD frowned and scuffed his foot
for a moment or two against the boardwalk before he headed down the street,
looking for something interesting in all the little shops.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7
By the time Josiah emerged from The
Green Way, the morning was over. The day
crept into a long afternoon. The
proprietor had tried to entice him with a strange looking drink, but Josiah
demanded a bottle of whiskey. He'd spent
the day finishing it off.
He walked unsteadily, but
dedicatedly down the street. He'd been
hiding for long enough. It was time he
confronted his demons.
The shops were pleasant little
places, filled with all manner of pretty things. One store sold painted shelves and tables,
another was filled with wood carvings of all sorts, another held pottery, then
sculptures, followed by bronze figures and other stores held paintings so
many people were painters.
He paused a moment, and then stepped
into the first painter's shop. The walls
were covered with landscapes, portraying this beautiful place. The surrounding hills were lovingly rendered
in watercolors, the many shades of red leaping from the canvas. The artist sat at his easel at the back of
the room, touching up his latest work. His
face was chiseled and rough. He tried to
start a conversation with Josiah, but Sanchez hardly heard him as he quickly
moved through the place and out again.
The next painter filled her shop
with flowers rich and colorful bouquets, one would think she lived in a
garden. So much life filled that little
shop. The artist was bubbling with
excitement as Josiah strode in. He spent
only a moment in her beautiful world before he moved on to the next.
The third painter filled her shop
with people. It was here that Josiah
paused. Portraits covered the walls,
beautiful lovingly rendered images. He gazed
into the eyes, so perfectly recreated that they almost seemed to ready to blink. The people were posed in their best dress,
leaning or standing or sitting, their heads turned toward the best light, their
expressions mild. There was beauty in
every face fine featured and generously remembered.
They were so familiar.
He sighed as he stared at a
perfect little girl, dressed in a pinafore and holding a kitten in her
lap. She seemed so sweet. The little cat rested its mischievous head on
her hand. Her eyes were lowered and
filled with gentle kindness.
Hannah had painted like
this. His sister, before she'd been
lost, had painted with such grace, such emotion and empathy. When they were just children, she'd loved
drawing and would sketch his likeness all the time.
He'd never considered himself a
handsome man, but in her eyes, with the skill of her hands, he looked like an
Adonis.
Later, when she discovered
painting, she brought vibrancy to those drawings. She had such an incredible talent, instinctively
knowing all the tricks to bring depth and lushness to her works. She
always painted portraits filling her life with beautiful people.
When she painted, her father's wrath
could not touch her and she could forget how her brother would abandon her.
She'd always had a wildness, a
lack of good sense, a self-destructive personality. She could storm and rage, acting out every
immoral impulse that crossed her as if she couldn't quite contain them within
her. Josiah could see a terror in her
eyes then, as if she wanted to "be good," as if she wanted to be
happy and was doing everything possible to find that moment of pleasure.
She just couldn't help it.
For what it was worth, he'd tried
to help her sometimes. He'd purchased
paints and brushes and canvases for her.
It was one of the few things he'd managed to do for her.
When she painted, she was calm. The wildness left her. He wanted to help, to keep her on a path that
led away from her wicked ways.
Then, even that little joy had
fallen to pieces everything had been taken from her. Today, in Vista City, she painted madly,
trying to find that calm center again, but finding only tumult. The endless saints that paraded against the
walls did nothing to alleviate the pain that crashed around her. They had a
harshness to them, a bleakness. They
lacked the joy of her earlier work.
"Hello?" he heard a
timid voice call from the back of the shop.
Josiah blinked in surprise, and turned
to find a petite woman moving toward him, her head lowered and her hands behind
her.
"I'm the artist. Is there something I can help you find?" She bit her lip. "Would you like to
commission a portrait?"
"I, ah
" Josiah
stumbled, not ready for the intrusion, and the woman kept her head down.
"I'm sorry," Josiah
said. "I
. No, I don't need a
portrait. I was just looking." He shook his head, trying to clear it.
She smiled tensely. "Everything is for sale," she said,
and gestured to the back wall of the studio.
"I just sold my best painting this morning."
Josiah looked to the empty spot
on the wall a rectangle of un-faded paint marked the location where a frame
once existed for a long time. Not
knowing what else to say, he stated, "Congratulations."
She nodded keeping her head down
and her eyes averted. "I hope I did the right thing," she said
softly. "I'm not supposed to say anything, but I sold it for much less
than it was worth. He told me he would
make it worth the sacrifice."
Josiah grimaced, remembering what
had happened with Hannah's beautiful artwork.
A swindler had taken everything.
Anthony Largent she'd said he was tall, handsome and well-dressed.
Largent had visited the home while everyone else was away. He told her a story about how he was opening
an incredible gallery and needed to fill it with the best artwork available.
The trickster had strung her
along with flattery and promises of fame and fortune. He'd take her works with him to sell at
amazing prices, would give the proceeds back to her every penny. He sold her a dream, and she'd believed every
word.
He took her paintings her joys
and loaded them into his wagon, singing his lovely songs about how quickly he'd
sell her work. She'd be the talk of the nation
and insanely rich.
Hannah had helped him, lovingly
loading everything into his cart, cushioning frames with their best quilts, listening
to his tales, her heart leaping with the possibilities. She could buy her own home! Have her own studio and paint all the
time. She'd be admired and loved by
all. She'd no longer be the crazy child
of Preacher Sanchez, she'd be no longer under his rule. She'd be able to live her life as she
pleased.
She'd be free.
She waved sweetly as the charlatan
left with everything, and then she returned immediately to her room to fill it
again with beautiful people because certainly, he'd be asking for more
paintings in no time at all.
That was the last they'd ever
heard of Largent. Josiah had tried to
track him down, but it months had passed by the time he'd returned to their
home. The trail of the crook was long
cold. Hannah held out hope, but finally,
accepted the fact that she'd been cheated.
She burned all of her new
paintings and her madness truly settled in.
"Are you okay?" the
painter's voice cut through his thoughts and Josiah blinked fiercely, trying to
clear his head and feeling the effect of too many whiskeys.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You said you sold it for less than it
was worth?"
She nodded. "He swore me to secrecy." And she smiled impishly. "But I could never keep a secret! He told me that he was sending it to
Chicago. That he had a gallery or
something and would sell it there."
She frowned as she tried to remember it correctly. "He'd buy it from me, and then someone
would tell me to send more paintings and I'd be famous." She smiled then. "I just had to sell him the first one at
the lowest price I could allow, but after that I'd be rich."
A rage took over Josiah. "This morning?" He jerked his head
toward the door. Was Largent in
town? Would he finally be able to get
his revenge?
"Yes," the painter
responded. "Not long ago. He seemed eager to be on his way. He asked me
which paintings were my best, and then he chose the one he wanted and told me
all about his plan."
"Was his name Largent?"
Josiah asked, hardly able to spit out the name.
"Anthony Largent?"
She shook her head. "No," she said. "It was
Standish. Ezra Standish."
In a swift movement, Josiah left
the gallery, thundering down the main street of Sweet Haven, toward Blake's Saloon. When he found it devoid of one red-jacketed
gambler, he remained long enough to indulge in a shot or two of whiskey to
steel himself, and then went back to the galleries.
Many of the shops had empty
spaces where a prominent piece had once been displayed. The artists confirmed that an Ezra Standish
had been through, that he had purchased a piece, but they refused to divulge
any further information. They'd been
sworn to secrecy.
That son of a bitch.
Josiah didn't linger long. He kept moving, kept searching.
What the hell was Ezra trying to
do to these people?
When he asked at one shop, the
artist demurred. She looked
uncomfortable, and looked toward her husband for support.
The man came to his feet when
Josiah asked his questions, saying, "I know that bastard was up to no
good! Betsy! I told you not to listen to him!" He
faced Josiah, saying, "I'm going with you.
We'll find him and he'll get what's coming to him." And he left his wife's gallery to join Sanchez
in his search.
It proved fruitless in the
end. Standish was nowhere to be
found. Apparently, he'd completed his
swath of destruction in Sweet Haven and had gone into hiding. They returned to The Green Way, and Josiah found
a table.
Mike, Betsy Garner's husband, signaled
the bartender. "I told her!"
he said once the bartender nodded in response.
"I told her not to sell to that son of a bitch!"
Josiah frowned, clenching his
hands on the table. He'd find Ezra and
talk to him, get him to explain what was going on.
He needed to get to the bottom of
this. He wasn't about to let anyone else
get away with destroying another artist.
Never again.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7
"Hey, Ezra!"
JD called as the gambler exited the telegraph office.
"Mr. Dunne" Ezra
greeted, smiling congenially.
"Where you been?" JD
asked.
"Here, there, everywhere,"
Ezra said, pointing this way and that.
"The tables weren't kind?"
the kid asked, using one of Ezra's favorite phrases.
With a put-upon sigh Ezra
responded. "The tables were nigh on dead, so I sought a different kind of
gambling for the day." He cocked
his head. "And you? Were you able to procure anything for a
certain someone?"
JD blushed slightly, and then
shrugged. "There was this lady who
made necklaces out of wire and stones pretty stones." He pulled a little cloth bag from his
pocket. "She made this up special
for me." He dumped the contents of
the package into his hand so that he could show Ezra.
He'd picked out the stone with
Casey in mind, a pretty greenish agate, and the artist had fashioned a setting
out of copper wire, twisting and turning it into an intricate pattern around
the rock and then set it on a delicate chain.
He hoped Casey would like it. It
was difficult to find the right gift for her.
She always denied wanting anything fancy, but was disappointed if he was
too practical in his giving. He hoped
the simple-yet-intricate mix of stone and copper would please her.
Ezra leaned in to examine the
purchase. "Well chosen," he
declared. "This was from Mabel
Corey's shop?" he tried. "She
does impressive work with metals."
"Yeah, Mabel," JD
responded, surprised that Ezra was aware of the woman's name. "She was really nice and didn't mind
making this special."
"You did well, JD. I'm certain this will be well received."
"Well, yeah," JD said,
trying to hide his smile as he carefully returned the necklace to the
pouch. "It's not much but
"
"It's perfect," Ezra
assured. "I wish you'd accompanied
me earlier. I could've used your eye,
and your hands. Toting some of my
purchases proved difficult and I had to count on the artists to deliver some
items to the shipping office."
"You feeling any better?"
JD asked.
Morosely Ezra shook his
head. "Stiff," he said showing
his hands that were still black and blue, with red scraped knuckles. "Another reason to avoid the tables for
now." He gestured down the
street. "Perhaps we should look for
Josiah and see to getting some supper before night sets in. It's been a long day."
"The restaurant at the hotel
looked good," JD said looked about.
"Josiah went into The Green Way at first, but then I saw him going
in and out of all the shops. He was
looking pretty hard for something."
Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps he too has a paramour that
deserves her own work of art?" He cocked
his head. "I cannot recall any
lucky lady catching his eye recently."
He shrugged. "Where did you
see him last?"
"It's been a while since I
saw him," JD told him. "No
telling where he is now."
"I suppose we should start
looking where we parted ways this morning.
Perhaps he's at The Green Way?"
JD had no idea, but it was a good
place to start.
7.7.7.7.7.7
Josiah sat at his table beside
Mike and watched as the bartender balanced a fancy spoon over a delicate
looking glass. He topped the slotted
spoon with a lump of sugar, then poured green liquor over it. He gestured to the glasses with a flourish,
and then stepped back from the table.
Josiah frowned, not wanting 'fancy',
but once he took a gulp of the licorice-flavored drink. It tasted strange, almost familiar, but he'd
never tasted anything like it before. As
he smacked his lips, he wasn't sure if he even liked the concoction, but Mike
was drinking with gusto.
He took another gulp and another,
feeling the effects of the drink sinking into him almost immediately. Before he knew it, he'd almost finished the
glass and lifted a hand to signal the bartender for another.
The bartender nodded as Mike
snickered. "I see you like the
local drink."
Josiah finished the dregs,
feeling a numbness reaching him like hands.
Numbness was welcome.
"It's good enough," he
muttered as the bartender came for his glass.
"Keep them coming."
He'd had four of the green
flavorful glasses by the time the doors parted and the gambler came in with the
kid. By then, he could hardly see.
And the whole time he drank, Mike
Garner kept up a diatribe, detailing exactly what should be done to the man who'd
cheated the fine artists of Sweet Haven.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
"Ah, there he is," Ezra
said as he pressed open the batwing doors to the Green Way. He frowned, looking
over his shoulder at JD. "He
appears to be occupied," he said quietly. "Let's get a drink at the
bar and allow him a moment to finish up."
JD peered into the dark corner
where Josiah was situated behind a table with another man. They were both talking loudly. He couldn't make out what Josiah was saying,
but neither looked happy, and the other man seemed to be trying to press a
point about something. Josiah was
staring at his glass.
"I suggest we give Mr.
Sanchez a wide berth for now," Ezra said, directing JD to the bar and then
following close behind. He pulled a coin
from his pocket and set it on the bar as he reached it. "Whiskey," he said. "The good stuff, if you may. For my compatriot, a glass of your best beer." He glanced to JD. "I wouldn't chance the milk."
JD nodded, and accepted the mug
when it was placed before him. Ezra
downed the first whiskey and then touched the glass, requesting another.
The bartender nodded, but he was
already occupied, pouring a drink for one of the patrons. JD watched in fascination as he placed a
fancy glass on a plate, then settled a spoon over the top of the glass, and
then a lump of sugar. He poured green
liquor over the sugar and into the glass.
"What's that?" JD asked Ezra.
The gambler raised an eyebrow at
the ritual. "La fιe
verte," he said. "The green fairy." And then he added, "Absinthe. I've heard about it, but never seen it served
before. I hear it's
gaining popularity in Paris, but I'm amazed to see it here." He looked around the room. "It is popular with artists. I suppose someone has imported it."
JD screwed up his face as he
watched the patron take the glass and sip at it. "It looks weird," JD
said. "I'm sticking to beer."
Ezra laughed and watched as the
barkeep poured his drink. "And I
believe I'll stick to whiskey. It seems less chancy."
He was just reaching for his
refilled glass when a screech of chair legs against wood made both of them
turn.
"Standish!" Josiah
barked, coming at them quickly.
Ezra turned, giving JD a shove
toward the bar. "Josiah," he
said cheerfully. "How very good to
see you."
JD tried move, but Ezra rudely stepped
in front of him, pressing him into the bar.
Josiah didn't look right. His eyes were bloodshot and dark. He staggered as he walked. "What the
hell do you think you're doing?" he bellowed.
"What am I doing?" Ezra
repeated. "Enjoying a drink with my friend. Come join us, Josiah. The first round is on me. Invite your companion. The more the merrier."
The other man shadowed Josiah, as
big, drunk and angry-looking as their friend.
Josiah put one hand on Ezra's
shoulder and jerked him away from the bar, shoving him against the nearby
wall. "Explain yourself!" he
shouted, loud enough to silence the room.
"I have spent much of my
youth livin' in southern climes and have traveled a
good piece of this country since then," Ezra said, smiling winningly. "But
the south will always be dear to me."
The other man loamed just behind
them. "Do it," he said. "Just like we were sayin'.
Do it."
Ezra's gaze took in the man for
an instant, but he returned to Josiah, smiling as always. Josiah glared in return.
"I am a gambler by
profession and find law-keeping an interesting hobby," Standish continued
glibly.
"You got to do it," the
man hissed into Josiah's ear.
JD watched Josiah carefully. He hardly looked like himself. His blood-shot
eyes were hard and fixed on Ezra. He wavered, hardly able to stand.
"Josiah?" JD called
softly wanting to reach out for him, but Ezra countered him, unkindly putting
out an arm to shove him away.
Ezra went on, "My current
residence is in the dusty berg of Four Corners, but I have been sent on an
errand with my fellow lawmen to apprehend members of the Burgess gang. We were successful and are currently biding
our time in town, awaiting
" he let out a yip as Josiah suddenly slammed
an arm against his throat, trapping him against the wall.
"Hey!" JD shouted,
finally free of Ezra. "Josiah!" He grabbed onto Josiah's arm, trying to peel
him off Ezra, but he was like iron.
"You have no right!"
Josiah shouted into Ezra's face, and JD watched as Josiah pressed on him. Ezra's hands went to Josiah's arm, trying to
free himself as he was lifted off the ground.
"Josiah! Stop!" JD cried. "Stop it!"
Ezra's eyes were wide and he
tried to kick Josiah.
"Get him!" The other
man said. "That's right! Teach him a lesson!"
JD tugged harder, trying
desperately to get Josiah away from Ezra, but Sanchez kept pressing his arm
against Ezra's throat, shoving his weight against him, ignoring JD completely.
"What did you think you're
doing?" Josiah shouted. "What
right do you have cheating good and honest people? What right?"
"Josiah! Stop!
Stop it!" JD couldn't get
Josiah to let go, and Ezra's face had gone bright red as he tugged at Josiah's
arms and struggled to get free.
"You goddamn son of a bitch!"
Josiah nearly spat out the words.
Nothing was working. JD tried to wrench the arm loose, but even
with two of them trying, they couldn't budge Josiah.
"You are an immoral and
worthless swindler!" Josiah shouted, his face nearly touching Ezra's. "You don't deserve to be amongst good
people! You're a filthy, cheating piece
of garbage! You'll never change! Never!"
Ezra was trying to say something,
his lips moving but getting no air. He
was turning blue.
"Josiah!" JD shouted. "Stop!
You're hurting him! Please! Please, Josiah, stop it!"
The other man kept shouting, "Get
him! Make him pay! Kill the bastard!"
He had no choice. JD stepped back and pulled his guns, cocking
both at the same time as Josiah suddenly stepped back. No longer pinned, Ezra fell to the ground
with a clatter.
"Get away from him!" JD
ordered, keeping his aim on Josiah. He
felt light-headed. He couldn't believe
that he'd just drawn on a friend. He
couldn't believe that watched Josiah nearly choke the life out of another
friend. "Get away, Josiah Sanchez!"
he shouted again.
Josiah staggered backward, not
even looking at JD and his guns. His
eyes were on Ezra, who was struggling to sit up as his hands went to his neck
and he gasped, trying to draw in air.
JD wasn't sure what he saw in
Josiah's eyes. Was it disgust?
"Get out of here," the
other man urged, giving Josiah a shove. "Go!"
And with that, Josiah turned,
stumbling with each step as he made his way through the door. The other man followed.
And for a moment, everything was
quiet.
PART
2:
JD was panting, shaking as he
watched the doorway where Josiah disappeared. Nobody in the room moved.
All eyes were on him. JD had dropped his
guns the moment Josiah had stepped away from Ezra, and he holstered them
quickly.
Behind him, Ezra was trying to
get up, wheezing with each breath.
"Oh man," JD said,
turning to offer a hand. "You okay? You all right?"
Ezra made a face. He opened mouth
and made a hoarse sound before shaking his head slightly as he rubbed his reddened
neck. He grimaced and gasped. His expression made JD think that
Ezra had plenty to say, but he just wasn't able. His eyes were still wide
and his expression unsettled. He
extended a hand and let JD help him up.
"You sure you're okay?"
JD asked fretfully, making sure that Ezra could stand without difficulty. He
seemed a shaky but otherwise okay. He rested a hand on JD's arm until he
was steady. Someone handed him Ezra's
hat and JD looked around, not sure what to do next.
Everyone was staring at them
doing nothing. The bartender was paused, a bottle in hand, ready to pour its
contents over the sugar and spoon.
"We should go to the hotel,"
JD decided.
Ezra made a little nod, closing
his eyes for a moment and he raised his hand to his neck again. Dark bruises
were already forming. He seemed struggling to breathe easily.
"Okay then," JD said,
looking around again, wishing that someone was there to help. Why did Josiah do
that? Where was he? Still, no one
moved.
"Come on," Dunne said,
offering an arm to help Ezra walk.
The gambler gave him a little
smile, and made a movement with his hand, denying him. He walked easily
enough as JD led them from the saloon, but Dunne kept the pace slow and was
ready to help if Ezra needed it.
They quickly made their way to
the hotel where they'd left their bags earlier, and JD requested a room with
two beds. He wasn't sure where Josiah was at that time and honestly, he
didn't want to see him.
Ezra stood beside him as he went
through the business of getting a room and offered the cash when it came time
to pay.
JD picked up their bags and they
headed to the room.
Once there, Ezra sat down on one
of the beds, looking despondent, and touching his neck again as he continued to
breathe loudly.
"Hurts?" JD asked.
Ezra gave him a look, and then
nodded again, just a small movement.
"You need anything? I could
go get stuff. Whatever you think you need."
Ezra opened his mouth, but didn't
manage to make a sound beside an empty rasp. He winced, his face filled
with misery.
"I'll see if I can find the
doctor," JD promised, because he had to do something. "I'll be
right back." And he shot out of the room. He couldn't stand to
be still a moment longer, and he nearly ran down the stairs and out of the
hotel, darting into the town.
He tried to find a doctor, but
the man was away from town. So, he went
to the general store. He came back as
quickly as he could with his purchase, apologizing that he'd been unable to
locate any ice. It was the end of summer and there was none to be
had.
"I asked the guys at the
front desk to send up a kettle and some tea," he told Ezra, who was still
sitting on the edge of the bed exactly where JD had left him. His expression was troubled, as if he'd been
thinking too much
"Tea always makes my throat
feel better when it's sore. And I
checked at the restaurant downstairs. No
ice there either, but they said they could send up some soup."
Ezra nodded again, just a slight
movement, and JD frowned, realizing that it must hurt for him to even move his
head.
Proudly JD held what he'd
purchased, a classroom slate and a piece of chalk. "See! You can
talk to me with this."
Ezra smiled as he took the slate,
and wrote out, "Thank you."
"Yeah, no problem."
He sat next to Ezra on the bed. "You okay? Did you get hurt
bad?"
Ezra wrote out, "Throat swollen. Breathing is difficult. Hurts to swallow." He winced
as he wrote, then set down the slate to wring one of his bruised and scraped hands.
"Oh yeah," JD said
glumly. "I forgot about that. Your hands still hurt?"
Ezra nodded.
JD frowned. He started to
speak and then stopped, licked his lips and said softly, "Why'd he do
that? Huh, Ezra? Why was Josiah so mad at you?"
Ezra gave JD a bleak look.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to rub out the slate. Once it
was clean, he wrote, "I don't know."
"Did you do something?"
Ezra didn't move immediately,
simply sitting on the bed with the slate held tightly in one hand. He blinked and the look he gave JD was so
sad. He pointed to the note he'd just
written.
"But you must have done
something," JD insisted.
"Probably," Ezra scribbled. He blinked as he
gazed toward the window of the room, out toward the shops.
"What did you do today?"
JD persisted, because certainly something had happened. "Maybe we could figure it out if you
just told me what you'd done today."
"Bought
art," Ezra
wrote. He set down the chalk again to rub at his hands dolefully.
"Why would he be mad about
that?" JD asked.
Ezra pointed again to the spot
where he'd written, "I don't know."
"Where do you think he went?"
Again, Ezra pointed to the same
message. .
"Well, I hope he stays gone,"
JD said. "Hope he stays far from us
because I may not be able to stop myself next time." And he rested his hands on his guns.
Ezra moved one of his battered
hands, setting it on top of JD's arm as he shook his head.
"Well, let's hope he stays
away tonight." JD moved his hands
from his weapons. "Don't need to
see him."
JD sighed, wishing there was
something else to do. He started to speak, and stopped again, watching as
Ezra stared toward the windows, looking worried and concerned. Well, he had no reason to worry, JD
decided. He'd make sure Josiah didn't
come around and try it again.
Certainly Ezra had more to say,
certainly he had an inkling about what had caused Josiah to explode.
JD wished he could figure out the
right question to ask, that would allow Ezra to write a simple answer that
would explain everything.
Ezra picked up the slate again,
and wrote out something. He turned the
slate to JD. "Did you believe him?"
"Believe?" JD asked. "Believe
Josiah? Heck, Ezra, I don't know what
happened, but what you did don't matter to me."
There was a knock at the door as
the bellboy arrived with a kettle of hot tea, stopping any further talk.
7.7.7.7.7.7
Josiah Sanchez looked up at the
stars. They filled the sky bright
little pinpricks, so sharp he felt that they might cut him.
They swirled and danced over his
head, as the world undulated beneath him.
He felt like a cork on the sea, and his stomach roiled.
He blinked, trying to straighten
his mind, but found only turmoil. Colors
twisted around him. He seemed to teeter
even as he lay flat on his back on solid ground.
Where was he? He could see the stars, the moon spinning
above him. Otherwise, there was only wide
open space. What was happening? Only silence returned silence so complete
it hammered at his ears.
He swallowed, his throat dry and
his stomach continued to berate him as his mind tumbled. He felt goddamn sick. He wanted to move, to roll over, but any
movement made the illness more acute.
He needed sleep, but his mind
wouldn't stop turning and twisting, and every time he drifted off, he saw only
one thing the terror in Ezra's eyes.
What had he done?
"Stop! You're hurting him! Please!
Please, Josiah, stop it!"
"Get
him! Make him pay! Kill the bastard!"
He'd stepped back and Ezra had
fallen to the ground
and
He tried to swallow again, but
his throat was too dry, his stomach too sick.
He stared up at the stars because
he couldn't handle seeing the fear in those eyes again.
My
God, what have I done?
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
JD couldn't sleep not with the memories
of that evening replaying through his head.
He kept seeing that anger that horrible black anger in Josiah's
face, kept seeing how he tried to crush Ezra against the wall how he'd nearly
killed him.
Dunne sat up, blinking at the
dimness of the room, and glanced to Ezra's bed to make sure that he was
alright. There was the pile of pillows
that he'd situated to support his head -- he'd had difficulty lying flat but
the bed was otherwise empty.
He could hear him his breathing
loud.
A quick glance around the room,
and JD found Ezra standing by the window, looking out into the night.
"Ezra?" he called
softly.
The gambler turned toward
him. His face looked bleak in the
moonlight, his expression seemed lost and dejected.
"You okay?"
Ezra's expression changed, almost
forcibly, becoming something milder. He shrugged.
"Anything going on out
there?"
A shake of the head.
"Any sign of Josiah?"
Another headshake.
"You getting any sleep?"
Headshake.
"Yeah, me neither."
Ezra hadn't been able to drink
much of the tea, nor the soup that JD had sent up. Hopefully,
his throat would be better in the morning.
Hopefully, he'd be able to talk and help JD figure out what was going
on. JD could hear him wheezing from
across the room. Apparently it wasn't
any easier to get air.
"You been able to figure out
why Josiah is so mad?"
Ezra picked up the slate from the
table and pointed. It was too dark to
see anything, but JD knew the words that were spelled out at the top of the
slate.
"I
don't know."
"What do you think happened
to him?" JD asked.
Again, a finger pointed to the
slate.
Was Ezra looking for Josiah,
afraid of his return? JD had been
expecting an angry pounding on their door.
He'd be ready for it. He
suspected that Ezra had every right to be on the lookout for Sanchez.
JD pulled his knees up under the
covers and muttered, "I don't think I've ever been so angry at someone
ever," he said. "What he did
was so wrong! I don't think I care if he
ever comes back. He can disappear, for
all I care -- disappear forever."
Ezra looked toward him
again. The pale of the moon showed the
surprise on his face. He furrowed his
brow a moment and lifted a hand, opening his mouth to say something, but only
managed a harsh gargling sound. He
frowned in frustration, and then shook his head.
"I don't care what you did,
Ezra. You didn't deserve what he done to
you."
Ezra lifted a hand and dropped
them in a futile gesture. He made
another gesture, aimed toward JD a patting motion, as if pushing him back
into his bed. Then, he crossed the room
to his own bed, where he flipped back the covers and crawled in.
He made the same motion to JD
again go back to bed.
JD sighed loudly. "I just wish I could understand what
happened. Wish you could tell me what
went wrong. Maybe I can get some paper
from one of the artists tomorrow and a pen and ink or something. That'd probably work better than the chalk,
right?"
Now that he was out of the
moonlight, JD couldn't clearly see Ezra as he settled against the raised pillows.
JD sighed again and stretched out
in his bed. He fell asleep at one point,
but when he woke again, he looked toward the window, finding it empty. When he glanced toward Ezra's bed, he could
see him sitting up in the darkness, gazing out into the night, his breathing
loud and troubled.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
Chris and Vin
made good time traveling from Red Wash the previous afternoon, and had set up
camp for the night not far from Sweet Haven.
It meant for a quick trip to town in the morning, where they would roust
the others from bed so that they could share a breakfast before heading to Four
Corners.
They reached the livery to get
their horses some feed, and were surprised to find Chaucer and Toby in
residence, but no sign of Prophet.
"Do you think Josiah headed
home early?" Vin asked.
"I told them all to stay
put," Chris said, irritation in his voice.
The livery boys let them know
that the sorrel was claimed that night by a big man drunk as a skunk. The boys didn't want to get in his way and
let him go without settling his bill.
With that, Vin
and Chris left the livery immediately, seeking out Ezra and JD. They crossed to the hotel, and nearly ran into
Ezra as he exited the front door.
Startled Ezra stepped back. A look of relief crossed his face and he held
up a slate to Chris. "We must find Josiah" was already
written in chalk.
Vin frowned, not knowing what to
think about the slate.
"We were just going to
"
Chris started, and then gave Ezra a look.
"What the hell?" He
reached for the cravat that was tied high, pulling it away to reveal a swollen
and bruised neck beneath.
Ezra rolled his eyes and pulled
the end of the cloth from Chris' hand to work it back in place.
Vin stepped closer. "Burgess did that to you?" he
growled, stopping Ezra to get a good look.
"Damn!" It looked like
the man almost crushed Ezra's throat. "Where's
that son of a bitch?" he snapped, looking toward the jail, and clenching
one hand.
Ezra opened his mouth, wanting to
say something, but ended up looking frustrated.
JD pushed his way around the
gambler. "It was Josiah! Josiah did it!"
Vin and Chris stared at JD in
disbelief and then back at Ezra. Standish
pointed to the slate, where it said, "We
must find Josiah." Then pulled
a chalk from his pocket, to write beneath it, "Something is wrong with him." He winced as he wrote, his knuckles were
obviously bruised and torn.
"He do
that, too?" Vin asked, his anger growing.
Ezra closed his eyes for a moment,
and then started to write, but JD said, "That was Burgess. Or well, I guess Ezra did that himself when
he hit the guy, trying to stop him. Reid
has bad teeth and Ezra got his hands ruined."
Ezra stopped trying to write, and
nodded slightly to JD, showing his concurrence.
"He can't talk?" Chris
asked JD.
"Not a word," JD told
him.
"Never thought I'd see the
day when Ezra shut his yap," Vin said giving Ezra
a whack on the shoulder.
Chris smiled a little. "Must be agony for him."
Ezra wrote, "You have no idea."
"And Josiah did that to him?"
Vin asked, wanting to make sure he understood. "He choked him? On purpose?" It made no sense.
JD nodded, demonstrating with his
arm. "Had Ezra against the wall and
shoved his arm up on his windpipe. Just
about done him in. Said he was a
worthless swindler and some other stuff, like he was garbage and that he'd
never change."
Vin turned to Ezra, watching his
expression. Although Ezra didn't move,
he seemed to step back, and he lowered his head.
"Why'd he do that?" Tanner
asked.
Ezra flipped slate and pointed to
where worn looking words said, "I
don't know."
"He was really drunk,"
JD said. "And mad as hell about
Ezra for something. Said he was cheating
good and honest people."
Looking irritated now, Ezra
wrote, "I wasn't!"
"I don't really care,"
Chris said. "Where did he go?"
Ezra pointed to the "I don't know," again and
flipped the slate to write more.
"I don't care if he doesn't
come back," JD said flatly. He glared at Vin and
Chris, daring them. "You didn't see
what he did to Ezra! You didn't hear
what he said!"
Ezra showed them the slate, "Drugged," it read. "Something
in the drink."
JD nodded. "We tried to find the bartender, but the
saloon is closed right now. Ezra wants
to know what was in those fancy drinks."
Ezra was writing again, "Absinthe? Something added?"
Vin frowned at the word, not knowing
what it meant, but felt some relief knowing there might be an explanation for
Josiah's actions. "If he's been
drugged or poisoned, he could be in trouble."
"We'd better find him quick,"
Chris concluded.
Vin turned, heading back to the
livery with the others behind him. He could hear Ezra wheezing to draw in
enough air as they hurried.
Chris stopped, turning to Ezra
and gently putting a hand on his shoulder.
"You're staying," he said.
Ezra looked annoyed, pointing to
where he'd written "We must find
Josiah."
"We will," Chris said,
a promise. "You and JD need to find
out what was in that drink."
Ezra pointed to JD, then to The
Green Way saloon. Next, he pointed to
himself and then jabbed a finger at the livery.
"I want both of you looking
into what was in that drink."
Irritated, Ezra wrote out, "I can't talk to the barkeep!"
"And you can't walk down the
boardwalk without having trouble breathing, Ezra," Chris told him, his
voice even and free of accusation. "The
two of you together will have better luck tracking down the information we
need."
"We got it, Ez," Vin told him. "We'll
find him and bring him back."
Ezra crossed his arms over his
chest, the slate still clenched in one hand. He wasn't happy. Beside him, JD had his hands on his hips, not
happy either.
Chris gave JD a sharp look, not
saying it, but the meaning was obvious, ' take care of him.' They continued toward the livery.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
The Green Way wouldn't open until
later that day, and they'd had no luck tracking down the bartender a man named
Morris Paige. Townspeople were well
acquainted with his special drink. Most
avoided it. Some lived off it.
They'd been able to obtain a
bottle of the drink when Ezra managed to open the back door of the saloon. It smelled of licorice and herbs. Out in the alley, Ezra took a swig and made a
face, spitting it out.
"Laudanum?" he wrote, looking
perplexed. "And gin?" He
followed that by three dots
and another question mark. "Licorice
root, mint, basil?"
But after the limited
investigation, it was obvious to JD that Ezra would not be able to keep up with
him. He had to pause and suck in air
after breaking into the saloon. They
went back to the hotel with the bottle so that Ezra could rest. He looked miserable and exasperated with this
prospect.
"I'll get some paper,"
JD promised. "And something better
to use for writing. I'll be right back."
And he left Ezra in the hotel
room as he went back to the artist shops.
He found a place where a husband
and wife sold their works. The husband
used oils. The wife sketched in
charcoal.
"Hey," JD said as he
poked his head in the doorway. Tobacco smoke filled the little shop. "I
was wondering if you had any paper to spare.
I can pay." He pulled out a
few pennies from his pocket. "And
maybe one of your pencils, too?"
The pair looked at him, but the
woman shrugged and said, "I'm sure I can spare some." She pulled the cigarillo from her lips and
set it on a plate so that she could turn the page she was working on. She tore a few pages from her pad.
"Thanks," JD said,
reaching out a hand to take the papers from her. "My friend needs them."
"Is he an artist, too?"
the woman asked, picking up the little cigar to take a drag.
'No, someone tried to choke him,
so he can't talk. I'm just trying to
find a way to make it easier for him to write out stuff. His hands are all torn up, so he's having
trouble with the chalk."
"Ezra?" the woman asked. "Is it Ezra Standish? His hands were hurt when we saw him earlier."
The man clucked as he sucked at
his pipe. "I heard about what
happened in The Green Way. I was afraid
that man had killed him." He rubbed
his neck. "Sounds like he was hurt
pretty badly."
"Is he's okay?" the
woman asked. They looked concerned.
"I think he will be," JD
said. "Just can't talk and havin' trouble breathin' good,
and his hands still hurt him. He's kind
of a mess."
The man spoke, clenching the pipe
stem in his teeth, "Very glad to hear he'll be alright." He nodded to his wife and they seemed to
share a secret between them.
"You know him?" JD
asked, perplexed.
Another glance between them, and
the man said, "We have a deal with him.
I was a little afraid that it was off after what happened in The Green
Way last night."
"Oh!" JD cried excitedly. "Did he buy some art from you? You know what's going on! Josiah was really mad at him about something
and I'm trying to figure out what that was all about. You can tell me!"
The woman frowned and the man
sighed.
"I would like to," the
woman said, "but we have an agreement with Mr. Standish. We were not to speak a word about the deal."
JD looked at them in
disbelief. "You can't tell me
anything? He's my friend and something's gone awful wrong. I'm trying to get it figured out."
The woman picked up one of her
pencils and began sharpening it with a knife.
"We swore an oath that we'd not speak a word," she said. "Not to anyone. He said it would ruin the deal and -- "
she made a face as she tried to remember "sow discord amongst the others."
"And we aim to keep that promise,"
the man said.
"But, I need to know,"
JD went on. "Maybe he just didn't
want you talking to the other artists, but I'm not one of them. I need to know."
The man nodded to the papers in
JD's hands. "If he wants to tell
you about it, I suppose this will let him write it out. But you won't hear anything from us and I don't
see how it can help him with his pains."
The woman smiled sweetly as she
handed the charcoal pencil to JD. "I
hope he's okay."
And they told him nothing more.
PART
3:
Prophet's track was easy enough
for Vin to discern, heading off into nothing. It meandered, showing that Josiah wasn't
thinking straight at the time. They eventually found the sorrel waiting
patiently by the side of a stream.
Josiah was found shortly
afterward. He was flat on his back,
staring up at the sky his mouth slack.
"Josiah!" Vin shouted, jumping down from his horse.
Josiah grimaced at the
shout. He blinked, then slurred out, "Go
'way."
"Get out of the sun,
Sanchez," Larabee said. He glared
up at the sky. "You stay out like
this much longer and that sun will bake you."
Josiah closed his eyes,
muttering, "Don't care."
"Looks like he's alive,"
Larabee said, turning to Vin.
Tanner nodded. Josiah's eyes were bloodshot and his color
was a bit greenish, but Vin had seen worse. "Yeah,"
Vin said, "I don't think he's dying, but he is
suffering." He stepped down from
his horse, keeping his gaze on Josiah, trying to figure him out.
It was obvious that the man had
been sick. The area stunk of it. Without
a word, Vin and Chris hauled Josiah upright, and then
to his feet. Sanchez staggered at the
change, but let the two hold him up, and then drag him toward the little
stream. He sunk down to his knees once
he was there, and they let him fall to his side.
"Might want to wash up,"
Vin said. He
went back to his horse for a cup and a cloth.
He wetted the cloth and handed it to Josiah, who didn't bother taking
it. Vin let it
fall beside his head. Next, he filled
the cup with water.
Josiah hadn't moved. He stared at the moving water, his brow
furrowed. Vin
tossed the water on his face. Sanchez flinched,
closing his eyes and groaning.
Vin filled the cup again and
squatted down beside him. "You
might want to drink this one," he said, keeping his tone even.
Chris continued to stand beside
them, arms crossed as he watched Sanchez.
Josiah stared for a moment,
before he finally asked softly, "Did I kill him?"
Vin looked to Chris first, before he
said, "Ezra ain't dead."
A hopeful gaze leapt up to meet Vin's.
Vin went on, "But you nearly
did him in. Came close to crushing his
throat entirely. He ain't gonna be able
to talk for a while."
Josiah closed his eyes again,
almost immediately. "God forgive me,"
he murmured.
"You gonna explain why you
did it?" Chris asked. "You
nearly took off Ezra's head, and scared the life out of JD."
Josiah blinked, water still clinging
to his eyelashes. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. I
"
Vin continued to hold out the
cup. "Why'd you do it?" he
asked, his voice quiet and accusing.
Josiah shifted himself, sitting
up. He took the cloth that Vin had dropped beside him and dunked it in the stream. He used it on his face and neck and then took
the cup. He sipped tentatively.
"Well?" Chris
persisted.
Josiah let out a long breath,
then said, "I never should've done it.
I was out of my mind. Oh God, I
said things." He closed his eyes. "Things
I never should've said to him." He
held up one arm, gazing at his forearm the one that he must have pressed
against Ezra's throat. "I was going
to kill him," he said hoarsely.
"Why?" Chris asked
again.
Josiah kept his gaze on Vin. He blinked
again. "I thought he'd cheated
innocent people."
"So you were going to kill
him for that?" Chris asked bluntly.
"Cheating is like breathing to Ezra. Why should that day be any different?"
Vin remained where he was, squatting
in front of Josiah. He'd glanced to
Chris at his statement, then returned his gaze to Josiah. He remembered the last time that Josiah had
seemed so lost.
"I was wrong to do it,"
Josiah whispered.
"What were you drinking last
night?" Vin asked him.
"I can't blame the drink,"
Josiah said. "I own up to my
mistakes."
Vin went on, "Ezra thinks you
were drugged. He thinks something was in
that stuff."
Josiah thought a moment before he
said, "It sure brought on the drunkenness quickly. Nobody held a gun to my head and I didn't
stop drinking the stuff. I know what I did. I wish I could have stopped myself. If I could go back and change everything
"
His voice trailed off and he stared beyond Vin.
"Well, it can't be undone,"
Chris said. "Best you can do is fix
it and move on." He stared down at
Josiah, saying, "This won't happen again." His voice was dark, ominous.
"Never again," Josiah
pledged. He met Chris' gaze and then
turned to Vin. "I
pledge that to you."
Vin met his gaze and said, "He
was worried about you."
And that only made Josiah look
more upset.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
By the time JD returned to the
room with the paper and pencil, Ezra was dozing, propped up with his pillows. His breathing was still audible.
"Hey, Ezra, I'm back,"
JD said quietly.
Ezra opened his eyes and looked
toward him.
"Got the paper," JD
said, holding up his purchases. "You
can tell me all about this stuff now."
He shook the pages. "'Cause it would be good to know what this was
all about."
Ezra reached for his slate and wrote
"Later". And then he wrote, "Josiah?"
"They ain't back yet,"
JD responded.
Ezra nodded and closed his eyes
again.
JD sighed and said, "I'm
going down to the restaurant to get something to eat. You want me to get anything for you?"
Ezra made a wave of his hand that
seemed to say, 'no.'
"You'll be okay here while I'm
gone?"
He moved his hand up and down in
a semblance of a nod.
"Okay then," JD said,
setting the papers and the pencil down on the table. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Maybe you can do some writing then?"
Ezra opened his eyes and looked
at him, giving him a slight smile, and nodded his hand again.
JD sighed and left the room. He wished there was something more he could
do for Ezra.
Dunne realized that he hadn't
reached out to Nathan for advice, so he went to the telegraph office and sent
out a message. Nathan would know what to
do.
Once back at the hotel's
restaurant, he ordered a hearty lunch.
He'd eaten little since they arrived in this town. Last night, he'd only had some of the soup
that the restaurant sent up.
As the plate of steaming food was
delivered to him, he felt bad knowing that Ezra couldn't manage much of anything
just yet. He ate quickly so that he
could get back to the room, and then ordered soup for Standish, hoping that
Ezra would have better luck this time.
He'd just received the hot soup
in a tin container when he saw the others return to town. Josiah was riding between Chris and Vin, his head down looking miserable. The horses were kept at a slow pace.
JD felt a rush of anger as he
picked up the pan to meet them.
"JD," Vin greeted as he stepped down from Peso. "How's he doing?"
"You're not letting him in
here," JD said, pointing to Josiah.
Sanchez kept his head lowered,
his shoulders hunched.
Chris was tying his horse to the
hitching post. "He's pretty sick,
JD."
"He can be sick somewhere
else then," JD responded. "Maybe
in the jail because he almost killed Ezra."
Josiah lifted his head and looked
toward JD, his gaze was bleary but his expression looked haunted. He moved to get down from the horse, slipping
to his feet and barely able to stand.
"He was drugged, JD,"
Chris said in a low voice. "Josiah
didn't know what he was doing."
"Didn't give him the right
to do what he did, to say what he said!" JD snapped. He gripped the warm pan and said, "I'm
gonna bring Ezra something to eat because he's probably hungry as heck and can't
swallow nothing 'cause of what he did."
JD looked from Chris to Vin. "Josiah's not coming in. And he'd better stay away from Ezra or else I'll
have something to say on the matter."
And with that, he turned, making
his way through the lobby of the hotel in a rush. He heard the quiet jangle of spurs and the
swish of a duster. He knew that Larabee
was following him. Hopefully that meant Vin was keeping an eye on Josiah.
He didn't want anything to do
with the preacher at that moment.
He reached the door to the room,
and pulled the key from his pocket.
Chris was beside him in a moment, and held out a hand for the key, knowing
it would be difficult to deal with the door while juggling the soup pot as
well.
When Larabee opened the door,
Ezra turned. He'd been standing near the
window, looking out on where the horses were tied. Spying Chris, he reached for the slate, but Chris
was already talking.
"We found him. He's okay," Larabee said quickly. "Must have been drugged because he still
isn't quite right. Looks like he'll pull
out of this with a little time but he's going to be feeling pretty low for a
while."
Ezra flipped the slate and
pointed to where he'd already written out what he believed was in the drink, then
added "Rotgut" where he'd
previously written gin. He shrugged, set
down the slate and picked up the purloined bottle as if it would help him
realize what else was in the concoction.
"We weren't able to find the
bartender," JD told Chris. "I
was going to try again. The Green Way
should be opening soon."
"We'll find him,"
Larabee said, his voice dark. There was
no doubting that he'd be successful in getting answers out of that bartender.
"You doing any better?"
Larabee asked Ezra.
Ezra shrugged again.
"Josiah's got no sense when
he's drunk. You know that," Chris
stated flatly.
Ezra nodded, glancing toward the
window.
"I brought you something for
lunch," JD said as he set the pan down on the table. "I figure you'd do better this
time. It's chicken soup! It's really good, too. Everything's chopped up really small and it's
easy to eat. Honest. I checked when I had some."
For that, Ezra gave him a smile.
"We'll talk to the
bartender," Chris said. "If we
decide that Josiah's going to be okay, we can send him and Vin home today. I'm sure Buck and Nathan would appreciate
some help in town. We'll give you
another day and see if you're up to it tomorrow."
Ezra quirked an eyebrow at him,
then cleaned the slate to write. "Is he well enough to ride?"
"We'll see if we can find
out anything else about that drink, but it looks like he's coming around. He can ride," Chris said, his voice betraying
that he wouldn't mind if Josiah was a bit uncomfortable for a while.
"Good," JD said. "He can get out of here." He glanced to the table, wondering where the
papers and pencil had gone. Then he
opened the lid of the pan. The rich
smell of soup filled the room and Ezra looked toward the pot with a hungry
expression.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
Chris and JD had entered The
Green Way shortly after it opened, leaving Ezra to his lunch. He seemed capable of eating it, slowly.
When they opened the door to the
otherwise empty saloon, the bartender looked up at them with a smile. "Anything I can do for you, gents? You're strangers here? Well, I have something special for you that
you're sure to like. Oh, I see you
already have some." Morris looked
perplexed as he noted the bottle in Chris' grip. His pleasant tone turned accusatory. "How'd you get that? I don't let any of it leave my place!"
Chris moved forward without a
word, and was behind the bar on a moment, trapping Morris Paige.
"Hey now," Morris said,
holding up his arms. "I don't want
any trouble. We're all friends here. If you want more, I can get you more, but you're
gonna have to pay for it."
"Let me give you some
friendly advice," Chris said as slammed the bottle down on the bar so hard
it sounded like a shot going off. "Stop
poisoning your patrons."
"Poison?" Morris looked
alarmed. "No, sir! No, there's no poison! It's absinthe!"
Chris narrowed his eyes. "It's not," he responded. "You got homemade gin and laudanum in
there. What else?"
Morris looked shocked. He turned
from Chris to JD, then immediately back to Chris because it was impossible to
feel comfortable under his glare. "I
can't get absinthe here," he explained.
"I heard it was popular with the artists in Paris, so I tried to
get it imported." He tried to move
away from Chris, but couldn't move far. "I
had to make it myself, but all I knew was that it was green, tasted of licorice
and
well
it's purported to expand the mind." He lifted his arms and splayed out his hands
as he said those words. "The
artists like it," he said again.
Larabee wasn't impressed. "What's in it?" he repeated, his
voice dropping to even more dangerous levels.
Morris was sweating. "Like you said, gin and laudanum. Then there's licorice root and some
herbs. Nothing bad. And a little fabric dye to get it nice and
green."
"What else?" Chris
persisted.
"A little cocaine and a
touch of ergot," Morris explained. "I
get it all from the apothecary in Red Wash. They give cocaine to babies for teething, so
you know it can't hurt anyone. I don't
put a lot in, just enough to open their minds a bit. I got the amounts just right. It's not
dangerous. The locals really like it."
"Laudanum and cocaine?"
"And ergot," Morris
went on. "But just a touch." He dropped his voice to a confidential tone
and said, "The ladies like it. It's
good for lady troubles and we have a lot of lady artists here." He brought his voice up as he said. "Some of the artists say it gives them
better vision to complete their work."
He added, "The sugar helps with the taste."
Chris kept the man pinned while
his hand rested on the bottle that Ezra had stolen. "And drinking four of these things at
one sitting is a good idea?"
Morris sighed as he looked at
JD. "Yeah, that guy he tried to
kill your friend, didn't he? You stopped
him. That was amazing."
JD crossed his arms. "I noticed you didn't do anything to
help!"
"I was busy serving guests!"
Morris insisted. "And that guy,
what was his name?"
"Josiah Sanchez," JD
told him.
"Well, he was with
Mike. Mike usually has three at a
sitting. His wife's an artist, you know,
and he tells me that she's high strung. Mike
says he needs the 'fairy' to help him get through the day. Your guy is the same size as Mike, so I
figured it was okay. And if Mike can
drink three without trouble, why not four?" Then Morris shuddered a little. "But Sanchez sure got scary. I thought he was going to kill that man with
his bare hands right here in The Green Way!
No more! I won't serve that much to a guest ever
again! Even Mike looked pretty done-in
by the time he left, and he usually just shakes it off. Three is the limit."
The bartender looked up as the
door opened. "Hey, here he is
now. Mike!"
JD scowled as the big man
shambled in. "That's the guy who
was egging Josiah on. He's the one who
was telling Josiah to kill Ezra."
Chris glanced at JD, and then
turned to Mike Garner who continued his slow pace toward a table in the rear.
"Set me up, Morris," he
muttered as he slouched into the chair.
Chris stepped away from Morris
his glare telling him to stay put, and then he moved to confront Mike Garner.
JD followed.
"You were with Josiah
Sanchez last night?" Larabee asked the man.
Mike groaned and ran a hand over
his face. "I have no idea what you're
talkin' about," he muttered.
JD stated, "I saw you two
here when Ezra and I came in. You were talkin' really loud and drinking from those fancy glasses."
Mike snorted and muttered, "Ezra
Standish? That son of a bitch? He's a low-life swindler."
"He is not!" JD
countered, stepping toward the man.
Garner sneered. "He stole from my wife. Cheated her out of her good work. Paying her a pittance for her best painting
and tricking her into believing some hogwash about getting her more money."
He was as red-eyed as Josiah, and
could hardly sit up. "I have to
support her! She makes nothing for all
the money she wastes on those damn paintings.
Nothing! Paint and canvas ain't
cheap! Those damn brushes cost me a
mint! Then this lying piece of crap
comes to town and robs her? Son of a
bitch should pay for that. Son of a
bitch needed to pay."
His gaze tracked to the place
where Josiah had pinned Ezra. "Got
what he deserved," he murmured.
"He did not!" JD
countered. "You just didn't
understand what was going on!"
"Tell me then, little man,"
Mike muttered. "You tell me what
that bastard was doing."
JD stepped back. "I don't know exactly, but I know it's
not like you said. Ezra can't talk 'cause
of what Josiah did."
Mike chuckled softly. "Sanchez said the same thing. Wanted to
hear his side." He nodded, tapping
the table to get Morris' attention. "Took
some convincing, but I set him straight.
I told him everything he needed to know."
Chris leaned forward, blocking
Mike's view of the rest of the saloon. "You'd best learn to mind your own
business," he growled.
"I do as I please,"
Mike grumbled, raising his eyes to meet Larabee. "And you'd best stay out of mine."
Larabee moved his duster to
reveal the gun at his hip and Mike's attitude changed, his gaze fastening on
the gun, and then moving to meet Chris' stark eyes.
"You cause harm to any of my
men, and you'll be facing me," Chris said, and Mike sat back in his chair,
looking cowed.
They left the saloon shortly
afterward. Mike Garner couldn't offer any
further information. Morris said that he'd
be less liberal with his pouring in the future.
The ingredients were legal and considered safe, but JD doubted that the
combination and the total amounts consumed would do anyone any good.
JD figured they should have a
talk with the sheriff, Jon Abbot, about this place.
"No wonder Josiah was out of
his mind," Chris said as they moved down the street. "Between those
drugs and Garner, he really got himself mixed up."
"He shouldn't have done it,"
JD reiterated.
Chris gave him a sidelong
look. "I can only imagine what Josiah'd be like drunk with all those drugs in him. He had Garner working on him, too." He stopped and turned to JD. "You did good,
JD. You kept Josiah from hurting Ezra
any worse than he did. You saved them
both."
"I was just trying to save
Ezra," JD stated. "If you mean
I didn't shoot Josiah in the process, then I guess I saved him, too."
Chris shook his head. "If you hadn't stopped him, Josiah
wouldn't have been able to live with himself and we'd be dealing with two
deaths. You saved them both." With a nod, he directed JD onward to the
telegraph office.
They sent a message to Nathan,
letting him know what was going on with Josiah and Ezra. Jackson messaged back immediately
apparently, he was already at the telegraph office composing a note to JD. He prescribed plenty of water for Josiah to
flush the rest of the toxins out of his system, and if he got worse
charcoal. For Ezra, he suggested that he
try Arnica Montana if they
could find some -- to help with the swelling and to take in steam from a
kettle to help ease his throat.
When they left the telegraph
office, JD immediately spotted Vin and Josiah, sitting
just outside of the hotel. He came to a
stop, and glared at Sanchez.
Chris stopped alongside of
him. "You better get over this, JD,"
he said in a low voice.
JD shoved his hands in his
pockets, hating the whole idea. "He
came at Ezra for no good reason. Ezra
wasn't doing anything. Josiah said
really bad things, Chris. You weren't
there. You didn't see his eyes."
JD looked up when the door to the
hotel opened and Ezra stepped out. Standish
smiled when he spotted them across the street, and then stopped when he noticed
Vin and Josiah just outside the door. He moved one judicious step away from Josiah.
Just then, the Sweet Haven
sheriff came running to him in the street.
"Mr. Dunne! They've escaped!"
he hissed, grasping hold of JD's arm.
Chris reacted to this sudden intrusion by drawing his gun on the man.
"What? Huh?" JD said intelligently, as he
turned to Abbott.
Abbott let go of JD as if he'd
been burned, his eyes wide as he stared at Chris's gun.
"Burgess?" Chris ground
out.
From across the street, Vin, Ezra and Josiah took note of what was going on and
crossed to their side.
"You're Larabee?" Abbot
asked. When he received a nod, he went
on as the others crowded in. "Burgess, Cummings and Delwood got out."
He kept his voice low. "They
got past my man. We're searching the
town."
"They got out?" Chris
growled. "How?"
"Overpowered my deputy,
knocked him out cold." Abbott told them.
"We just found him."
"You sure they're still
about?" Vin asked.
"I've checked the livery,"
Abbot went on. "No horses have been
taken. No reports of any being stolen
from the street. They have to be in town
still, laying low until they can make their getaway. Probably waiting for dark."
Ezra pulled a watch from his
pocket to check the time, and then looked toward the sun. It was still early afternoon and there was
hours to wait until darkness.
Abbott went on, "I got my
men checking the town, but I could use you guys as well. You know those criminals." He looked to
JD, Josiah and Ezra, remembering that they'd dropped off the Burgess gang the
previous day.
Larabee he knew by reputation.
Chris nodded, and glanced at his
men. Vin gave
him a nod and took off toward the north side of town. "I'll take south," Chris said, then
turned to JD. "You and Ezra check
through what we got here," he said, indicating the saloons at the center
of town. He turned to Josiah next.
Sanchez stood with his head
bowed, swaying back and forth. He seemed
hardly able to stand.
With a sigh, Larabee said, "You
keep an eye on things." And with
that, Chris started toward the south end of town.
JD moved away from Josiah,
saying, "Come on, Ezra. Let's check
the saloons."
Ezra lingered a while longer, his
gaze on Josiah, as the man closed his eyes and swayed. Ezra seemed to come to a decision as he took a
step closer and reached out one hand to touch Josiah's arm.
Sanchez would not lift his head.
Finally, Standish turned. JD was waiting, and together they crossed the
street.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
JD and Ezra moved through the
saloons, searching for the three members of the Burgess gang. They'd been lucky when they came across them
earlier in the open country. Now, they
were in a town with people, and it was only a matter of time before the Burgess
gang pressed their luck.
They moved from one saloon to the
next. The early crowd hovered around in
some of the businesses, but most were nearly empty. When they checked The Green Way, JD scowled
at Mike, who still sat at his table, nursing one of the green drinks. Morris said that no one else had been
through.
They kept looking.
They had just finished going
through another saloon when JD noticed Ezra resting a hand on the doorway, his
wheezing was becoming loud again.
"You doing okay?" JD
asked.
Ezra made a face and then rasped
out, "Been better."
JD smiled. "Hey, you can talk!"
With a frown, Ezra managed to
say, "Not much."
"Yeah, but that's a heck of
a lot better than before." JD
smiled broadly. "See, it was just a
matter of time, that's all."
Ezra nodded and gestured to the street
to keep them moving. He may have been
able to say a few words, but he was gasping to get enough air.
"You should probably rest a
bit," JD told him, pointing to a bench outside of the next saloon. "I can check out the next one."
Ezra looked as if he wanted to counter
him, but instead he sat on the convenient space.
Across the street, Josiah
remained where they'd left him, having found a seat for himself. His head was in his hands and people on the
boardwalk went out of their way to give him some space. Probably a good idea, JD decided.
JD still was having trouble truly
believing Josiah's actions. It had been
horrible to see and almost worse, to hear what Josiah had said to Ezra in
those moments.
Dunne stood beside Ezra, who
looked up at him with a suspicious expression.
"Ezra," JD said
finally.
"JD?" Ezra rasped in
return.
"I don't think I said
something right earlier."
Ezra raised an eyebrow.
"You'd asked me if I
believed Josiah and I told you that it didn't matter 'cause what he did wasn't
right." JD glanced across at
Josiah, and then returned his gaze to Ezra.
"But I should've just said 'no', 'cause I didn't believe anything
he said. He got it all wrong and I know
that you didn't cheat anyone because that's not the sort of thing you'd do." He nodded sharply. "That's what I meant to say."
Ezra smiled then, one of his
genuine smiles that hid nothing.
JD gave him a slap on the
shoulder, and entered the next saloon feeling better. Quickly, he scanned the space, finding it
empty except for the barkeep.
"Hey," JD called brightly
to the woman behind the bar. "I'm
looking for some folks. Did you see
three strangers come in here? One's a
pretty big guy with brown hair. Another
is almost bald and he has a mustache.
The third guy is really thin and tall and he talks with an accent." He'd said the same thing at each saloon they'd
searched.
For the first time, the bartender
didn't immediately say "no."
Instead, she stood quietly for a moment as she bit her lip and then
stated, "They're not from around here?"
"Yeah, you're right. They're not.
They're criminals and we just brung them in
yesterday, but they got out and now they're loose in town. We figure they're hiding out somewhere and we're
trying to find them."
The woman starting scrubbing at
the bar with a rag. "Don't know if
I've seen the likes of them," she said.
"I don't know."
She stared at JD as she wanted to
bore holes in him, then glanced to the door at the back of the room. "They're not here," she said.
"Oh," JD said. "Okay, I'll go then." And he stood a moment while the woman stared
back at him. He pulled one of his Colts
from its holster and nodded to her.
She ducked down as he edged
closer to the rear door, his heart hammering.
Slowly, he put his hand on the door handle, listening, waiting. There was no sound.
He jerked the door open and let
out a gasp of surprise and disappointment, finding only a storage room and
another doorway, open to the outdoors. Sunlight
flowed in.
He glanced over his
shoulder. "Ezra!" he
shouted. "They went out back!" And then he charged through the door after
them.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
Josiah, miserable and muddled,
sat hunched on the bench. His mind was
still rocking and his stomach hadn't settled completely. His body felt distant to him, numb. The effect of the faux-absinthe was
lessening, but it still held its grip.
He was ready for this experience
to be finished. Lord, he never wanted to
see that green drink again.
Across the street, JD and Ezra
made their way through the saloons. He
watched as Ezra seemed slower every time they emerged, until JD finally
directed him to sit on a bench. Now Ezra
had been sitting, resting on the other side of the street while JD went into
another business.
Ezra put his head back against
the wall but kept his eyes open, scanning.
For a while, Ezra seemed to be looking at him, but the gaze was broken
and he continued to look about as JD remained in the saloon.
He remembered that Ezra had
touched his arm moments ago.
He'd nearly killed Ezra. Had pressed an arm against his neck and
shoved him off the ground, had used his weight to close off his throat.
He kept replaying that moment of
insanity. He kept seeing those terrified
eyes. He knew that Ezra had been
helpless at that moment, and yet he had kept pressing down on him.
How could he do that? He had no idea how he'd ever get Ezra to
forgive him. He wasn't even sure that he
wanted forgiveness.
Suddenly, Ezra sat bolt upright. Standish stood, gazed for a moment into the
saloon, and then spun to face him. He
gestured, pointing toward the back of the saloon, and then darted off, around
the far side of the structure.
Josiah stood. "Chris!" he bellowed. "Vin!" He staggered forward, aware that people were
fleeing from the sight of him. "Chris!"
he shouted again, his voice like a foghorn.
He followed in the direction that Ezra had taken.
As he rounded the corner, he was
almost ran over Delwood. The tall thief's eyes went wide as Josiah
grabbed hold of him. Sanchez threw him
to the ground in one quick movement. Delwood struggled a moment, trying to get up, but Josiah
slammed him to the ground again.
Delwood made a frightened sound, trying
to put his hands up in surrender as Vin came around
the corner.
"Josiah?" Tanner asked,
taking in the situation.
Josiah pointed to the downed
man. "Keep him there!" he
ordered, as he got to his feet and continued toward the back of the saloon.
In the alleyway, he spotted JD
sitting on top of Cummings. He looked
surprised to see Josiah and a war was fought in his expression. Finally, he shouted. "Help Ezra! He went after Burgess!"
JD turned his gaze further down
the alley where Ezra and Burgess suddenly appeared.
They were tussling, the big man
and Ezra, falling from one doorway and tumbling to the ground. Burgess managed to get to his feet, hauling
Ezra up with him.
And then Burgess slammed Ezra
into the wall, as Ezra struggled to breathe.
Josiah let out a roar and charged
forward just as a gun went off.
Burgess dropped Ezra like a hot
potato and staggered backward as he clutched one ear. "Son of a bitch!" he shouted. "Goddamn son of a bitch!"
Ezra stumbled to keep his balance,
breathing harshly. One arm reached for
the wall to brace himself, but the other didn't drop as he kept the derringer
aimed at the man. Burgess fell to his
knees, moaning and groaning, clutching at the bleeding side of his already
bruised head.
Ezra looked up as Josiah skidded
to a stop. He rasped out, "Said I'd
use a bullet next time." But as
Josiah reached him, his chest heaved with the effort of drawing in breath and
he looked annoyed. He uttered a quiet, "Aw,
hell," and fainted dead away.
Josiah leaped forward, grasping
onto Ezra's arm and easing him to the ground.
PART
4:
Following the recapture of the
Burgess gang, Ezra had revived quickly.
Still having difficulties catching his breath, he returned to the hotel
room to try Nathan's remedies to ease his throat.
Josiah, finally clear-minded, was
ready to take to the trail and put Sweet Haven behind him. He couldn't face Ezra at that moment in any
case. Buck and Nathan could use the help
back home, so it was time to go.
Nothing was said at first. Vin and Josiah kept a slow pace. They'd spend the night at a watering hole
midway to Four Corners, so there was nothing to hurry them.
Finally, as they crossed open
territory without another soul for miles, Vin broke
the quiet. "Was this about Hannah?" He knew that any time that Josiah returned
from a visit to Vista City, it took him days to find calm again.
They continued their slow pace as
Josiah kept his gaze on the horizon. There
was nothing outside of the huff of the horses' breath, the jangle of their
bits, and the squeak of leather.
Vin waited.
Finally, Sanchez said, "She
painted such beautiful people. It made
her happy." He kept his voice even. "A man sweet-talked her, telling her that
he'd make her rich and famous, and then he took everything. Left her with nothing. It broke her heart and her mind. I heard that Ezra was cheating the artists."
"Ezra's not that man."
"I know."
"Chris said that cheatin' is like breathin' to
Ezra, but you know that ain't true. Maybe
it was. He's changed since we first met him."
"He'll still prey on the
weaknesses of others," Josiah said softly.
Vin looked to Josiah and said, "He
gambles, but he don't take from those who aren't asking for a game."
"Those artists didn't
deserve his underhanded dealings."
"Josiah," Vin said, letting some of his anger reach his voice. "It ain't fair how you judge him. You don't know the story. You're gonna have to have some patience. You need that with Ezra. He don't give up information until he's good
and ready. Don't matter to me if he says
nothing about it. I don't need the
story. I trust him. You should, too."
"But in the past, he's
"
"Past is past,
Preacher. I think you'd benefit if we
all kept that in mind."
Josiah let out a breath. "I know.
Good Lord, I know." He
gripped the reins tightly. "I don't
think I was truly seeing him at that moment.
I was imagining Anthony Largent the man that cheated my sister." His expression was glum. "I don't know how many times I'd dreamt
of finding him, and pulling the life out of him."
"Ezra's not that man," Vin said again.
"I know. I had no right to do what I did. My actions were unconscionable and I know
Ezra will never forgive me."
Vin snorted. "Shows how little you know him," he
said. "Ezra probably forgave you
the moment you let him loose. In that
cracked little mind of his, he thinks he deserves most of what he gets. He believes what he hears. You cut him deep." Tanner waited a moment before he said, "You're
hard on him. You don't do that to any of
the rest of us."
With a small nod, Josiah
conceded, "I don't know why. Maybe
it's because I want him to be a better man."
"He is a good man," Vin told him. "He
don't need to pass a test from you to prove it."
"Maybe it's because I see myself in some
of his actions. I haven't always done
the right thing. There were times when I
used my position as a preacher to get what I wanted. I've led people astray for my own benefit."
"He's not you either."
They were quiet again as the
horses moved forward and Sweet Haven grew distant.
"Do you think he had his
derringer with him?" Josiah asked.
"He nearly took off Burgess'
ear with it. Man will be lucky if he don't
end up deaf. Good thing he don't have to
wear spectacles."
"I meant, earlier." Josiah sighed. "When I had Ezra pinned against the
wall, do you think he had it then?"
"He usually wears it when he's
expecting trouble." Vin gazed toward Josiah, not wanting to answer the question
outright. "Probably didn't use it
during his first run in with Burgess because we were all tryin' to bring in
those boys alive. He didn't want to deal
with hauling Burgess to town bleeding.
Would ruin his finery. Figured
since we were in Sweet Haven, he could let the sheriff deal with the mess."
"He could've used his gun on
me," Josiah said. "Just like
he did to Burgess." Josiah kept his
eyes forward, watching the horizon like a seasick passenger trying to keep his
stomach settled. "He could have
shot me. Could have killed me to stop me
from killing him."
"Yeah, he could 'ave," Tanner said.
"Why didn't he?"
Vin shrugged. "Who knows what goes through his twisted
mind?"
"Was he just going to let me
kill him?" Josiah asked, feeling sick once again.
Vin thought about that a
moment. Not wanting to dwell, he went
on, "Lucky for all of us, JD stepped in.
You got both your ears still. You
and Ezra still live so I figure it worked out."
Then, Vin
said, "I can be forgiving because you'd been drugged. Anyone else done it, I'd have no problem
putting a bullet in him drugged or not."
He kept his voice low. "If
you'd killed him, I'd be gone." He
didn't look at Josiah as he spoke. "You
came close. You came awful close."
Josiah hung his head, knowing the
truth of it.
Vin went on, "If this ever
happens again, if you're drunk or drugged or just feeling annoyed with him, I
ain't gonna forgive you. I don't cotton to someone trying to kill one
of my friends don't matter who's doin' it. You do something like this again, and I'll
come after you. I don't wanna hear about
you giving him shit for who he used to be or for who you'd rather he be or for
things you know nothin' about. There's
no fairness in that and he don't deserve it."
And nothing more was said.
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
"I don't 'spect I've ever
had such a quiet ride with Ezra before," JD said. "What do you think, Chris?"
Larabee chuckled
slightly as he gazed toward the gambler. "He usually can't help himself. He'll talk a dead man into sittin' up to shout,
'shut up'."
Ezra raised an eyebrow at
him. "Rest assured," he said,
his voice so low it was barely audible. "I
shall soon be raising the dead again with my dulcet tones."
"Dulcet?" JD repeated. "What's that mean? Does it
mean 'sounds like a crow with the croup?' You sure ain't sounding pretty."
JD was feeling good. Ezra had been able to open the doctor's
office and procure the herb suggested by Nathan. He'd tried breathing in the steam and taking
the medication to reduce the swelling around his neck. Whether those were what helped, or if it was just
the passage of time, Ezra was breathing better in the morning. He didn't have much for breakfast, but was
swallowing easier, enjoying the coffee and porridge from the restaurant.
His hands had improved as
well. They probably weren't ready for
his fancy shuffles or card tricks, but his knuckles were no longer scraped and
bruised. He didn't wince when he moved his
hands.
They had left Sweet Haven that
morning and traveled the long distance during the day. Throughout the trip, JD hounded Ezra, asking
him about what had happened in Sweet Haven.
Ezra rebuffed him, with silent
gestures and finally responded, "The tale would take some time to tell." He ended with a grimace, taking a draught of
water from his canteen. He'd give JD an
apologetic look.
"Wish I knew where those pieces
of paper went to," JD grumbled. "You
could've written it all out and then I'd have what I want to know. It'd help."
Ezra just shrugged, looking
sincerely sorry, and then turned to Larabee with a grin.
Chris shook his head and chuckled
softly.
JD was fairly certain that Ezra
was using his infirmity to keep from answering questions before he was good and
ready.
Ezra could be pretty annoying
when he wanted to be -- and there wasn't a thing JD could do about it.
It was well into the afternoon
when they finally reached Four Corners.
The others met them as they came into town.
Nathan was intent on dragging
Ezra into the infirmary the moment he was off his horse. Standish had only enough time to hand a packet
of folded papers to Josiah.
Ezra pointed to JD as Nathan
manhandled him up the stairs. "You'll
want to read that, too," he said before he disappeared.
JD moved slowly toward Josiah,
giving him an appraising look before he came to stand beside him.
Josiah unfolded the papers,
finding them filled with careful lettering.
He held the pages so that they both could read.
"I, Ezra P. Standish, do solemnly swear that
the content of this letter is truthful.
These pages are meant as an explanation of my actions in Sweet Haven and
is not to be considered a confession of any sort.
Over the past day, I have worked
with several artists in town to act as their agent for a gallery of
considerable prestige in Chicago, IL. I
am acquainted with the proprietor, an honorable man in a less-than-honorable
city. Mr. Edwards has let me know that
he is interested in artwork from the Southwestern portion of the United States
for his gallery.
He does not accept works on
commission and will only buy artwork outright.
He did not contract me to act as
his agent, but I acted of my own volition once I saw the quality of pieces available
in Sweet Haven. The location of this town affords insubstantial traffic and the
artists have limited chances to sell their works at a decent price. It seemed like a ripe opportunity to me.
I chose artists that I thought might pique the
interests of his patrons. Since I had no
assurances of acceptance from the gallery owner, I was taking a gamble.
Working with each artist
privately, we chose their most saleable work and together we negotiated a price.
The artists were aware that I was
using my own money to purchase the work, and that I did not know if a profit
would be made. The negotiated prices
were on lowest end of what the pieces were worth in that market. I did not twist anyone's arm.
I do not know how much Edwards
plans to pay me for the shipment. He
knows me. My name will carry some
weight, whereas if the artists sent him anything unannounced, he might pay them
little heed.
All profit for this initial sale
is mine alone. I covered the cost of the
original purchase and shipping expenses.
I took the risk.
If the work sells well, Edwards has
been given the full contact information for the artists, along with a list of
other works currently available. Edwards
will be able to communicate with the artist directly, requesting future works
and paying the artist without intervention.
The artists will be able to sell to Edward directly and will reap all
the rewards for any subsequent transactions and gain exposure that was lost to
them in this quaint little town.
I believe that I had explained
the 'scheme' in depth with every artist.
Unfortunately, it would appear that some among them did not fully
understand. For that, I am at fault, but
some people, especially those of an artistic bent, have trouble wrapping their
minds around such concepts. They have,
perhaps, imbibed too often at The Green Way.
I swore each artist to secrecy to
keep those deemed 'unworthy' from feeling disappointment, and to keep the other
artists from knowing the prices paid for the initial pieces. I wanted no hard feelings. Some received better deals than others. They were better negotiators.
I hope that I have explained
myself fully and have clarified the situation to your satisfaction. I apologize for being unable to tell you
directly, but there were difficulties beyond my control.
Yours, most sincerely, Ezra P.
Standish"
"Huh," JD said as he gazed
at Josiah. "Didn't pay 'em a lot, but it sounds like
they all knew what was going on. He didn't
cheat them."
Josiah sighed. "I should have known."
"Yeah, you should," JD
told him.
Josiah stared at the words on the
paper for several moments, and finally he raised his gaze to JD. "I'm sorry about all this, JD."
JD jutted out his chin. "Well, tell that to Ezra!"
"I will," Josiah promised. "But I'm damn sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I misunderstood what he was
doing. I'm sorry I jumped to
conclusions. I'm sorry that I listened
to Garner. And those drinks, God, I'm
sorry I kept drinking them." He
lifted his gaze Nathan's clinic. "And
I can't even begin to explain how sorry I am for what I did to Ezra, what I
said to him. I have only myself to
blame, and I aim to set things right if I can." He looked to JD. "I need to start with you because I know
I've shaken your faith in me. I can only
tell you that this will never happen again.
I swear that to you, John Dunne."
JD nodded. Part of him wanted to stay angry with Josiah,
but already that feeling was leaching away.
Because, more than anything, he wanted everything to be okay again.
"I'd wanted to talk to Ezra,"
Josiah said. "If I hadn't kept
drinking, I could've had a clear mind when I found him." He frowned.
"I can blame the drink. I
can blame Garner, but I have only myself to blame in the end because I should
have known Ezra better. I should have
just believed better of him."
"He wouldn't cheat innocent
folk," JD said. "Not anymore."
"I know," Josiah
responded. "The next time I hear
that he's been up to something, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt." And a smile crept to his face. "Because there always is a next time
with Ezra."
And JD could smile, too. He was ready to smile and to forgive
Josiah. "You never know what he'll
get into next."
7.7.7.7.7.7.7
Nathan had forbidden the others
from bothering Ezra and he slept until almost noon the next day.
Josiah looked for Ezra that
afternoon, and finally spotted him, emerging from the telegraph office. Standish grinned widely as he held the note.
"My shipments were received
this morning!" he said when Josiah approached. His voice was still rough,
but he was speaking with much greater ease. "Express delivery paid off. Everything arrived in good condition and Mr.
Edwards is pleased." His grin
increased as he said, "He will pay me handsomely for my endeavors, and is
already interested in contacting some of the artists."
Josiah tried to say something,
wanting to get his words just right.
Since Josiah hadn't spoken, Ezra
went on. "I believe this was a job
well done! Come Josiah, help me
celebrate my good fortune." He made a fluid gesture to the saloon. "See, even my hands are moving better. Everything is right in the world."
Two glasses of whiskey set up by
the time he made it to the bar. "Leave
the bottle," Standish told the barkeeper as he set coins on the bar. The barkeep nodded, and left to go about his
business elsewhere in the saloon.
"A toast!" Standish
said. "To the fair people of Sweet
Haven, and a gamble that paid off handsomely for me. Well done, I'd say."
"Ezra," Josiah said,
finally getting in a word.
"Present," Ezra responded,
lifting the glass to his lips.
"Would you have let me kill
you in that saloon?"
Ezra sputtered and lowered the
glass, looking at Josiah with an incredulous expression. "Come again?"
"I was choking you,"
Josiah said, stumbling over the words as if it hurt to say them. "I nearly choked the life out of you in
The Green Way, and you had your weapons on you.
You could have shot over my ear like you did to Burgess, but you didn't."
Ezra looked relieved. "Oh, I could have, but I saw your eyes,
Mr. Sanchez. The bar was crowded and I
couldn't risk such a shot indoors. You
were like a bull incensed. A pop next to
your ear would have been a trifle. My
neck would have been snapped in an instant if I'd riled you any further."
"You could've shot me then,"
Josiah continued.
"Oh, the straits weren't so
dire for me to attempt something like that.
With the way you had me pinned, I had few things to aim at that weren't
vital."
"Ezra," Josiah said
through gritted teeth. "You were
going to let me kill you."
"Was I?" Ezra sounded
surprised. "I think not." And he lifted the glass to take another drink. "JD was right behind you and wouldn't
let that happen."
"But I came so close
"
Josiah continued.
"You weren't going to kill
me, Josiah," Ezra said, looking at Josiah as if he were simple.
"You can't know that. You don't know what was going through my
head."
"You let me
go."
"Not until JD drew his guns
on me."
"No," Ezra
responded. "That wasn't the reason
you stopped."
Josiah paused and gave Ezra a
long look as he sat back.
Standish took another drink,
wincing because his throat was still sore.
He refilled the glass before saying, "You let me loose because that
other man told you to kill me." He
cocked his head. "The instant he
said those words, your expression changed. The light dawned and you realized
what you were doing. That's when you let
me go." He took another drink. "You didn't want to kill me. You let me go on your own accord."
Josiah blinked in disbelief,
remembering that moment. Mike's words
were like a kick to the head. He recalled
it now. He'd realized the horror of what
he was doing, had been repulsed by his actions.
He let go of Ezra because he came to his senses.
It took a moment for Josiah to
find his voice, but finally he asked, "But what if he didn't say that?
What if I didn't snap out of it? I might
not have stopped."
Ezra gestured. "Well, JD would have shot you," he
said. "Hopefully in a non-lethal
location. He's quite adept. I trusted Mr. Dunne to take care of things if
the situation became much worse. Like I
said, I was pinned and if I had to resort to a headshot, it would not have been
kind."
Josiah dropped his gaze, and
waited as Ezra took another sip of whiskey.
"I had everything under
control," Ezra said.
Josiah shook his head woefully,
knowing how far out of control he'd felt at that moment. He could still remember the stark fear in
Ezra's eyes. Standish would never admit
to it, and perhaps it was better that they left it that way.
"I'm sorry," Josiah
said. "For everything that I
said. I should know you better than
that."
"Nothing to be concerned
about, Mr. Sanchez."
"I'm ashamed of what I said,"
Josiah went on. "Ashamed because
nothing that I said was true."
"Surely, some of it
"
"Ezra," Josiah cut him
off. "My words were chosen weapons,
knives flung. They had nothing to do
with truth and were chosen purely to hurt you because someone in my past caused
harm to me and mine. It had nothing to
do with you. It pains me now to know how
I hurt you with my actions and words."
"We're all allowed
mistakes. Some are greater than others,"
Ezra said, rubbing at his still bruised neck.
"But, we are human, after all." He picked up his whiskey to take another
drink.
"And you were wrong, too."
Ezra stopped again, holding his
glass half-raised to his lips. He seemed
to deflate as the glass went down slowly until it rested on the bar. "Was I?" Ezra said, exasperated and
tired. His voice became rougher. "I
thought I spelled it all out for you."
"You were wrong to forgive
me so quickly, so easily," Josiah told him. "As if my actions were acceptable."
Ezra gave a small chuckle and
raised the drink again, downing it quickly.
He grimaced before settling the glass to refill it, then pushed the
other untouched drink over to Josiah.
"Let us drink on it then,"
he said. "The next time you try to
murder me, I'll get angry. Honestly, I
was too concerned about the whole situation to build up any ire at that moment. You were drugged and not yourself. I was having enough trouble simply
breathing. There was no room for anger."
"Anthony Largent."
"Come again?" Ezra
responded.
"He's the man who cheated my
sister. I have held a great hatred in my
soul for that man. He destroyed
her. The words I spoke were not for you,
but for him."
Ezra blinked a moment. "Tall man? Not as good looking as I, but a sweet talker
nonetheless?"
Josiah paused. "I never saw him. Just heard my sister's description. That might be him."
"Well, your soul can release
that hatred. The man's dead," Ezra
said, slowly turning the glass in his hand.
"Dead and gone. I knew of
the man and his reputation. He was killed
in a dust-up in Saint Louis, years ago. It
would appear that one of his marks caught up with him, putting an end to his
misdeeds."
"You're certain?"
"Quite," Ezra
replied. "It was a lesson to us
all. So, you can put your anger to
rest. It's wasted on a dead man."
Josiah watched Ezra carefully,
looking for signs of deceit. He could
never tell with Ezra. Finally, he said, "You
were trying to help those artists."
Ezra nodded. "For what it's worth, I was tryin' to be
fair to all parties, while I earned a profit as well."
Just then, the batwing doors
banged open "Hey, Ezra!" JD called.
"You're up!"
"Indeed I am," Ezra
replied.
"You're sounding better,"
Dunne said as he approached the bar.
"For that, I am grateful."
"Still sound like you're
talking through a mouthful of gravel though," JD said with a laugh. "Better, but horrible."
"It's deplorable," Ezra
mumbled massaging his throat. "Things are improving steadily though."
The bartender returned, bringing
a glass of milk for JD. The kid nodded a
thanks to the man, as Ezra put a coin on the bar.
Ezra asked, "That gift you
purchased in Sweet Haven, JD, did the recipient appreciate the thought?"
JD frowned. "I don't know. When I gave the necklace to Casey, she didn't
say anything. She just got all worked up
and for a minute I thought she was going to hit me. Then she took it and said it was a waste of
good money, but she wouldn't stop looking at it, and she didn't give it
back. She just kept it tight in her fist. Then, she went to find Nettie." He looked up to Josiah and Ezra. "Didn't say thank you or anything, so I
have no idea what she thought of it."
Josiah and Ezra exchanged a
smile, and then Ezra said, "You did well, Mr. Dunne."
"She didn't seem very happy
about it," JD said. "She
looked like a bee had stung her."
Josiah laughed at that, and said,
"Then she adores it."
"I guess I just don't
understand women," JD muttered.
"Who does?" Ezra
responded, lifting his glass.
JD found a seat at the bar next
to Ezra. "You hear anything back
from that gallery man?"
"Success!" Ezra said,
beaming. "I've made a substantial
profit."
"And everything's okay?"
JD asked, looking from Josiah to Ezra.
"But of course, how can it
not be?" Ezra responded. "My
pockets are full once again. Now, that I
have a little extra spending money, I can put my latest plan into action. I've done a bit of research and I believe I've
found something missed by the proprietor of The Green Way." He tugged another telegram from his
pocket. "With my newfound
prosperity, I may be able to import absinthe from France. It will take a little finagling, and dare I
say bribery and misdirection. I may be
able to get a shipment into the country."
He smiled at the others, showing
his gold tooth. "Might be
profitable, don't you think? I could, at
the very least, sell it in Sweet Haven.
What with The Green Way shut down, people may be clamoring for the
actual product."
JD frowned. "With all the drugs that were in those
drinks, Nathan thinks people are going to have trouble if they can't get any of
it."
Ezra shrugged. "Morris Paige seemed resourceful. I'm sure he found another way to make his foul
concoction available. But there is a
void to be filled. I'm certain that I can find another proprietor who would
like to provide the actual product. It
will taste better if nothing else."
"And be far less dangerous,"
JD added.
"Amen," Josiah added
quietly, feeling queasy again.
"Of course," Ezra
added. "What could possibly be
wrong with absinthe?"
"Ezra," Josiah started,
shaking his head, "I don't even want to think about it." He pushed the glass of whiskey away.
"Might be a bad plan,"
JD added.
"Nonsense," Ezra
fluttered his hands. "It's a grand scheme, and I intend to make good use
of this opportunity. I may have another
possible gold mine here."
With that, JD and Josiah
exchanged a glance. Who knew what sort
of trouble would be coming next.
THE
END
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