Strictly Business - The Second Half
Part 7:
Another day and Vin Tanner found himself in the chair outside the restaurant. It was a comfortable place to watch the town, but he was growing tired of it. The days were counting down -- 13 more -- and he'd be out of these splints. Lord, it seemed those days would never pass.
Time just drifted along and he was at the mercy of healing bones. Everyone kept telling him that it would only be 'a few more days'. But 'few' was an awful lot when you couldn't go anywhere.
At least the pain was lessening day by day. Not much longer and he would be back to his own form of normality -- just a few more days.
Mabel saw that he was well fed, bringing him breakfast, lunch and dinner. Who could ask for more?
"Howdy, pard," Buck called as he approached Tanner. "I hope you're feelin' fine this afternoon, because I am feelin' damn good myself."
"Buck," Vin nodded. "You're lookin' perky."
"Yes siree." Buck straightened his hat. "There's somethin' that always puts a hop in my step, that's for sure." He leaned against the roof support beside the tracker. "Anythin' happen while I was gone?"
Vin was about to speak when a strangely melodious THUMP reverberated through the town. Both men turned to see Shaffer and three of Palmer's ranch-hands trying to manhandle an ornate piano out of Shaffer's front door and onto the porch.
"Ezra finally buy that thing?" Buck asked. "How'd he get Palmer's crew to move it? I reckon that must'a been an interesting conversation."
Vin furrowed his brow at the sight, not quite understanding why Palmer's men were involved. Suddenly, Palmer himself appeared with a wagon. He spoke a word or two to his men and then started backing the wagon to the porch. The horses jangled their harnesses as the vehicle moved backward.
"Damn," Vin muttered.
"Hey!" Buck called. "They're stealin' Ezra's piano!" Wilmington made a move to cross the street and confront them, when he spotted the gambler walking slowly toward them. "Ezra! They got your piano!"
Ezra came to a stop beside them, his attention on the proceedings. "The merchandise, I believe, has been bought and paid for by another party," he drawled softly.
Buck was confused. "How'd that happen? You were gonna buy it, weren't cha?"
"Mr. Shaffer found a buyer with a better bankroll than myself, and a better home to provide." Ezra smiled at both of them. "Unfortunately, I was unable to meet either of Mr. Shaffer's standards."
One of the men lost his grip and the piano dropped to the porch with a crashing chord. Ezra winced. It started to pitch backward, filling the air with an almost frightened cry of hammers hitting piano wires, but the men were able to right it. Ezra gripped the railing tightly until the piano was properly situated again.
The lawmen, and most of the town, watched the noisy process as the heavy instrument was finally lifted from the porch and dropped into the wagon. The piano seemed to shout out in distress at its treatment. It was strapped in place with a long length of rope -- they trussed it up like a prisoner on its way to execution. Finally, after a great deal of sweat, cursing and dramatic chords, Palmer directed the wagon out of town. The piano thrummed and crescendoed as the vehicle bumped its way toward his ranch.
"Damn, Ezra," Buck muttered. "How the hell did ya let him buy that thing out from under you?" Wilmington turned to face the gambler, but he was gone.
Part 8:
"Mr. Tanner!" Shaffer called as he hurried up the boardwalk to catch the limping tracker. "Mr. Tanner." He was wiping his sweaty hands on his pants, glad to be finished with the piano. He had forgotten how difficult it was to move that thing. Bringing it into the house had been a production in itself. The process had sent his wife crying to her bedroom. Apparently she had been offended by his temper. It was one of the earliest clues that she was ‘flighty’.
Well, it was gone now, along with his wife -- neither of them would trouble him any longer. Let Palmer try and move the piano into his house now. Let someone else try to manage that woman.
"Mr. Tanner," Shaffer called again, easily overtaking the tracker.
Vin broke his hard-won stride to warily face the man. "Shaffer," he replied. "What d'ya want?"
The man was confused by the terse reply. Tanner and the other lawkeepers had been congenial to him up until now. "I've made a decision on the rifle. Figured I'd part with it since I'm leavin' the wilderness, but only if you come up with a fair price." He smiled. "Otherwise, I think I'll just keep it as a souvenir of my life in the Wild West."
Vin regarded the man. Shaffer was in his thirties, perhaps forty on the outside. But, he had gone gray too soon and had about as much spirit as a corn muffin. Vin didn't know exactly what had gone on with the piano. He just knew that somewhere along the way, Ezra had been trampled. He didn't like Shaffer.
"Why'd you sell it to Palmer?" Tanner finally asked.
"The rifle?" Shaffer tried, confused.
Vin looked disgusted. "No, I mean that goddamn piano that ya just shoved out of your house."
"Oh, the piano?" Shaffer returned, surprised to be hearing about this from the tracker. "Why should that be a concern of yours?"
"It concerns me," Tanner growled.
"Ah, the saloon," Shaffer said, understanding. He recalled that all the lawmen owned a piece of that Redbird Saloon. A convenient situation for that gambler, Shaffer thought ruefully. Certainly it allowed Standish to get away with anything.
"Mr. Palmer offered more," Shaffer said curtly. "You can't deny the fact that a man deserves to get the best price he can for his possessions."
"I ‘spect I can't fault that," Vin answered.
Shaffer shrugged. "Mr. Palmer came up with $400 and Standish couldn't meet that price." He fidgeted for a moment, as if he had just thought of something. His complexion went a shade paler before he coughed and continued, "Mr. Tanner, I don't have all day. I need to know what you want to do about the rifle. I need to know now."
No wonder his wife left him. Vin replied, "Keep it."
Shaffer's face fell. "You aren't gonna make me an offer?"
"I don't want anythin' from you, Shaffer, ‘cept to see your ass-end when you headed of town."
Shaffer stepped back. "But, Mr. Tanner, I'm certain we can come to an agreement."
"Doubt it," Vin replied. "In fact, there's no chance in hell of us comin' to any agreement." Vin clipped his crutch against the boardwalk, and continued on his way.
Part 9:
"Hey, Nate," Vin said as he hobbled up beside the healer. Nathan had finished unsaddling his horse and was unloading the packhorse.
"Vin," Nathan studied the tracker. "You stayin' off that leg as much as possible, ain't cha?"
"Yeah, Nate. I'm doin' like you said."
"You were supposed to stay put while I was gone. Were supposed to stay on that chair by the restaurant where Mabel could keep an eye on you."
Vin sighed. "I've been sittin' so much, my ass ain't ever gonna recover. And Mabel's been lookin' after me so well I think my pants won't fit me no more." Vin nodded to the pile of packages. "What's all this stuff?"
"Look," Nathan said excitedly, as he picked up a leather case, opening it to display a row of gleaming metal implements.
"They look real fine." Vin scrutinized the contents.
"They're the very best," the healer declared as he pulled a stethoscope from another part of the case, holding it out for Vin to admire. "Brand new! Nothin' second hand! Nothin' that needs fixin' or cleanin' b'fore I can even use it."
"Nice lookin' things," Vin said with a nod. He turned a grin on Nathan as the healer handled a dangerous looking clamp. "Bet they still hurt though."
Nathan regarded that comment. "Can't deny that. But, I'd say the hurt probably don't last quite as long. These are fine-honed instruments, made from the best quality materials by skilled craftsmen," he parroted the words from the advertisement.
"They sure do look impressive!" Vin agreed.
"I got books, too." Jackson showed Vin the thick medical tomes. "I won't have any questions about anythin' anymore. There's an index in the back, see? I'll be able to teach myself everythin' I need to know. Be almost like a real doctor."
"That's a fine thing, Nate." Vin watched as Nathan flipped through the pages, revealing drawings of various parts of the human anatomy. He smiled, seeing Nathan so excited. "I suspect these'll do a world of good." He regarded the book with respect. It wasn't so long ago that such a tome would have brought a feeling of envy from the tracker, but now as the two men admired the references, Tanner felt a certain kinship with the healer. They both were men who prized books and were excited by the knowledge they contained.
"This stuff will save lives. These'll help me ta help everyone."
Tanner nodded to the other packages. "What's this then?"
Nathan almost blushed. "Well, I got me some new clothes here -- and a new blanket, linens, some stuff for my kit, and here's some brand-new boots that I got to get broke in. This here's the best -- a new set of throwing knives." He opened the package and picked up one of the finely balanced knives.
"That's quite a cutter." Vin tucked the crutch tightly against himself as he took the knife from Nathan. He tested it in his hand, feeling its weight and guessing it was worth quite a bit. "You done some mighty fine shoppin'." He handed the knife back to Nathan, who returned it to its package.
"I've never had so much money to spend in one place before."
"Where'd it all come from?" Vin asked, perplexed. "This here's gotta be worth an awful lot."
Nathan concentrated on collecting his purchases. "Well, let's just say I won't be getting a discount at the Redbird no more." Once he had the packages balanced in his arms, he headed toward the stairs to his room.
Vin paused for a moment, unsure. "What d'ya say, Nate?"
"I pulled out that money. I needed it for the tools. If I didn't pay for ‘em today it was all gonna be sent back." Jackson turned and saw Vin's disbelieving expression. "Ezra said I could take back the money whenever I wanted."
"You took the money from Ezra?"
"From the Redbird," Nathan corrected, adjusting the packages to climb the stairs beside the livery. "And damn, that place is a shade more successful than that con man lets on. He give me more than three times what I gave him back when we started." Nathan smiled broadly. "Can you imagine? I felt like a kid. I ain't never had so much money b'fore in my life and I got everything I could'a wanted in town."
"You took that money?" Vin didn't know what to think, but finally understanding what had happened.
"It was my right," Nathan responded. "I mean, it was in the contract that I could take it back if I wanted it." Jackson shrugged. "There's always a bit of give and take when you're running a business, isn't there?" He started up the stairs.
"Nathan," Vin called.
Nathan didn't turn as he tried to manage the stairs with his heavy load. "Gotta take care of these things, Vin. I'll talk to you later."
Part 10:
"Ezra!" Vin called, leaning back as far as he could manage on his one leg. He had to set his butt on the rail of the balcony and hung on with his one arm. "Come on! Ezra! I know you're up there!"
He had waited in the Redbird for most of the evening, without seeing any sign of Standish. He had sat at the table situated at the bottom of the stairs so that he'd have a clear view of the upper hallway just in case Ezra tried to slip into his room unobserved. Vin knew exactly where Standish was, he just hadn't quite figured out how to get to him yet. As night fell, Vin realized what he'd have to do.
He was still sweating from the exertion of hopping up the stairs and making his way to the second-floor of the saloon. It had taken far longer than he thought possible; the staircase wasn't made for someone with a busted-up leg and shoulder.
"Ezra!" There was no response. "If you don't talk, I'll just keep on yellin' and makin' a fuss!" Nothing. He glanced down at the street below, wondering if a gathering crowd would propel Standish to silence him, force him to come down and talk. It was a noisy night. The racket from the saloons in town drowned out any hope of creating a scene.
"I'll come on up there if I have to!"
A voice finally drawled back, "Be my guest." The words were spoken quietly. Ezra probably thought his voice wouldn't travel above the rest of the noise.
"Alright then, you stubborn cuss! I'll do it!" Vin grabbed the chair that occupied the balcony. "Don't think I can't!"
"The odds are against you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra replied from above.
"Well, I'm not one that pays much attention to odds, Ezra. Elsewise I never would'a got to be friends with the likes of you." Tanner struggled to climb onto the chair, letting his splinted leg dangle. He wiggled to catch his balance and the chair shuddered and scraped.
"Mr. Tanner? You aren't honestly considering…"
Vin clamped his good hand onto the roof's edge. Okay, now… he had one arm and one leg. He'd just have to step onto the balcony's railing and then pull himself onto the roof. That should be easy enough. He pulled with his arm, lifting the weight off his leg and attempting the hop to the rail. Fighting to balance correctly, his splinted leg came around and collided painfully with the chair.
He yelped as the chair toppled. The world dropped out from under him, leaving him dangling by his one hand. He yanked his left arm out of the sling and attempted to raise it. The chair gone, his legs swung about wildly, hitting the railing behind him. He glanced backward, realizing that if he lost his grip, he'd pitch backward off the railing and into the street.
Don't look down! Don't look down!
He looked up instead, ready for to yell for help, and met anxious green eyes.
Immediately, Ezra grabbed onto his arm with both hands. "Vin!" he called.
"Can't hold on!" Vin cried through gritted teeth. He tried to get his damaged left arm to help, but couldn’t raise it far enough to grasp the roof.
"Bend your knee! Rest your foot against the rail. You almost got it. There! Get your balance forward. Hold tightly, as tight as you can! I'll get you down." Ezra waited until Vin nodded, before he released his hold on the tracker's arm and swung himself immediately to the balcony below.
Vin felt his grip slipping as the gambler laid a hand on his side. With a frustrated gasp, his arm released its hold and Ezra tugged him away from the edge. With a clatter of limbs and splints, and he fell, collapsing onto the balcony and the southerner.
Vin panted, well aware of the pain in his leg and shoulder, but surprised to find it rather manageable. With any luck he'd avoided breaking anything else -- thank God. He struggled to move and plunged an elbow into something somewhat soft beneath him.
"Oof!" Ezra exhaled. "Wait, Vin! Hold up." Standish struggled to move out from under the tracker. It took a few embarrassing moments for the two to disentangle themselves from each other. Finally, once the gambler was free, he sat back against the railing and asked breathlessly, "Are you all right, Vin?"
"Yeah," Tanner admitted. "I figure I didn’t bruise anythin' more than my pride." He shuffled about, considering sitting up, but instead decided to stay were he was. He lay back down and sighed. From his position he could see the stars above them. They twinkled and shone in the blackness.
"You okay, Ez?" the tracker asked. "Didn't squash ya none, did I?"
"I'm fine," Ezra replied exasperatedly as he examined his jacket for tears. "I believe I've escaped unscathed."
"D'ya think anyone saw us?"
Ezra shrugged. "As no one has stormed up the stairs, I would think our spectacle passed unseen. I doubt we could be heard above the night's usual cacophony."
Vin sighed, glad of that fact. He didn’t want to go just yet.
"How'd you manage the stairs?" Ezra asked.
"Took me a bit, but I got 'em licked." Vin looked toward Ezra, who was mopping his face with a handkerchief. "Scared ya?"
"Damnation, Vin! Why did you try that?"
"Wanted to talk to you."
"If you had broken your neck on my account, I would've been unable to forgive myself."
"I tried tellin' ya the same thing when you pulled that stunt usin' Marley and my coat!"
Ezra looked at him in disbelief. "This is hardly a similar situation, Mr. Tanner. In one instance, I was trying to save your life. In this luckless scenario, you were nearly killed due to my own unconscionable behavior. Surely, Mr. Larabee and the townspeople would want no part of me after that. They'd run me out of town on a rail if…"
"Ain't no one gonna do that, Ezra."
Ezra's face twitched and he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. "Sometimes, I'm not so sure."
Vin sighed. "Last couple of days ain't gone so good, have they?" Ezra said nothing, and settled back down to the balcony's floor, resting beside Tanner. Vin continued, "Palmer got your piano."
"It was never mine, Mr. Tanner." Ezra explained. "I placed what I thought was a reasonable offer and was outbid. Simple as that." He turned his head toward Vin. "Really, it's for the best. The price was more than I could afford, and Mr. Shaffer was correct."
"What about?"
"The instrument deserves a better home than I could provide."
"What? That wood thing 'deserves' a good home? Hell, Ez, people deserve good homes, not things."
"If I were to bring that lovely creation into a mere saloon, it would be ruined in no time whatsoever. Cretins would rest their beer mugs on the fine wood, leaving rings. Fools would pound on the fine ivory keys putting it in horrible tune. It would become infused with smoke, the stink of beer and whiskey, and riddled with bullet holes. That magnificent piece should be in a drawing room, parlor, music room or auditorium -- someplace where it could be appreciated. It shouldn't be desecrated in a bar."
"It could'a worked."
"No, no, it couldn't. Really, it was far too ornate. I believe I was kidding myself into believing it would have fit properly into the Redbird. It would have stuck out like a sore but beautiful thumb. Something that lovely has no place under my ownership."
Vin said nothing, so Ezra continued, "You see, it's for the best. I couldn't afford the price Mr. Shaffer suggested."
"'Cause Nathan took his money out," Vin included.
Ezra looked stunned. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "It was his prerogative. He needed the money to purchase devices critical to his role as healer of this town."
"He got a lot more than $100 back."
"Please, Mr. Tanner. It has always been clearly stated that any of you could remove your money at any time. And I have always told you that your investment will be a money-making one." He paused and looked at the stars. "If you wish to withdraw your money as well, I fully understand. But please give me a few weeks to gather the funds together." His voice faltered slightly at the few last words. "If you could give me a month it would make things easier for me."
"Damn it, Ezra. I ain't takin' out my money. I'm just sayin' that it’s a shame that Nathan done it."
"No, not a shame. Everyone wins in this situation. Nathan has gained devices and knowledge to fulfill a long-standing desire. Those purchases will be to the betterment of the entire town. Mr. Palmer now has a lovely instrument that will be the centerpiece of his parlor and perhaps garner him a wife. Mr. Shaffer has rid himself of an albatross, gaining quite handsomely in the process, freeing himself for travel, and I have been kept from making a foolish purchase. The endpoint is perfect for all."
The southerner continued, "And if Nathan hadn't removed his funds, I would've tried to meet the price and would've needed to make up the difference. If I had managed it, I would've been unable to meet my open bills. Creditors would come calling and my ownership would have been in jeopardy. Then I'd have to hire a pianist on top of that. Who is available in town? Leo Quail from Digger Dan's?" Ezra grimaced. "He's the best of the underqualified lot."
"Maybe you could do the playin'?" Vin tried.
Ezra was silent for a long moment. "I only know a few melodies, and with all my other duties, I could hardly fit saloon piano player in as well. No, Vin. That wouldn't work. You see, it's all for the best."
Vin turned to Ezra, but the gambler was studying the stars above the Redbird. Vin said quietly, "I suppose that Nathan could've put back the extra money, couldn't he? I mean, if he just needed the money for the kit and the books, he could'a put the rest back in."
"Mr. Jackson's needs lay in another direction and he deserved the purchases he procured." Ezra chuckled lightly. "He has sagely proven a point to me. Showing me that I've been foolish with my improvements, spendin' where I had no right to spend. This practice will stop immediately. If I had only been more conscious of this before, if I had only been able to pay a return, perhaps Mr. Jackson wouldn't have had a need to withdraw his investment. You see, the fault lies solely with my management…again."
"Wasn't your management that lost the Standish Tavern," Vin said quickly, knowing where Ezra was leading. "That was your ma playin' games and 'cause of me, too. Ya may have had a chance to keep if it you weren't helpin' me."
"I don't regret my alliance in that circumstance," Ezra returned. He drew in a breath and continued, "I will do my best to manage this business. You'll see your money. Your investment will pay off. Have no doubts."
"I ain't got none." Vin had heard the sad tone of Ezra's voice. "And you gotta do whatever it is you want with your saloon. Me and the boys will back you up." Vin never really expected any return on his investment. Sure, he knew that was the reason for putting his money up -- but in his own mind, he really wasn't investing in a mere business, he was investing in something much more important.
"Yes, I suppose," Ezra returned without any enthusiasm.
"Nathan will go along with us, too. Might have to twist his arm a bit, but..."
"Please," Ezra said. "Don't berate Mr. Jackson for his choice in this situation. I would have done the same if our positions were reversed. Let him be." After a pause, he added, "Don't mention the business about the piano to him. It will do no good whatsoever now that the opportunity is gone."
"He shouldn't 'ave done it," Vin muttered. He watched Ezra as the gambler continued to stare off at the distant stars. He wished he could think of something to say.
"Them samurais," Vin tried, "They got lots of ideas of what makes a good man."
"That they do, Mr. Tanner."
"I think they're right on most of 'em."
Ezra's voice was sad again. "Indeed. Whoever conceived the list had a good grasp on what constituted a decent and deserving man."
"I think you were wrong when you said you don't got none of those things that they prized so much."
"I have good manners," the southerner said quietly, his eyes focused on the tiny pinpricks of light. "I'm attempting frugality. Other than that…" he raised his hands in futility.
"You got a hell of a lot more than that goin' for ya, Ezra." Vin groaned, wanting to say more, but not knowing how to say it without sounding strange. "Hell, Ezra. If some fella came up to me and talked about you the way you talk about yourself, I'd probably have ta deck him. The only reason you get away with it is b'cause you're my friend. But maybe, I'm thinkin', I'd be a better friend if I hit ya once or twice."
Ezra turned to Vin and looked as if he was going to speak, but he couldn't open his mouth to say it.
"You're more ‘loyal’ than a damn dog, ya know? Hell, you were just sayin' somethin' about ‘alliances’ and all that. Takes loyalty to do the stuff you do. And you got ‘honor’ comin' out your ears. You're a gentlemen ain't cha? Ain't gentlemen got honor?"
"A façade that…"
Vin cut Ezra off before he could go any further. "You got that ‘self-sacrifice’ thing 'cause you almost got yerself killed trying to save me at Dolby's Crest and when you dropped that damn whiskey bottle down the Nichol's chimney and when you came back to save our asses back at the Seminole village, so I got proof of that. Ya gotta want some ‘justice’ if you're workin' this job. The money ain't what's keepin' ya. What's ‘martial spirit’ mean anyway?"
"It means that one enjoys a good fight every now and again."
Vin grinned. "I've seen you enjoyin' yerself in a dustup, ‘specially when we're on the winnin' side. You got ‘sense of shame’ too 'cause you seemed pretty ‘shamed 'bout yerself for some reason. You gotta be ‘modest’ if you keep denying everythin' I say."
Ezra shook his head. "There are many things that you don't understand, Mr. Tanner."
"I know you like all of us so that's ‘affection’, ain't it? And I like you well enough. I don't want to get all … ya know… weird or anythin'."
"God forbid," Ezra muttered and then smiled, he glanced at Vin, seeing his embarrassment at the simple statement. "Perhaps ‘camaraderie’ might be a more acceptable word." Both men nodded to this concession. "I do appreciate the… camaraderie that we share."
"Me to, Ez," Vin agreed. "I like it a lot."
Ezra continued, "What about ‘purity’? One mustn't forget that."
Vin laughed. "Now, I wouldn’t push it that far."
The two lay on the floor of the porch for several minutes, chuckling as they stared up at the twinkling lights. Once they were silent again, Vin turned to look at Ezra, seeing that a frown had returned. "Hey, Ez? Somethin' wrong?"
Ezra sat up suddenly. "I should be going. Would you like some help getting to your feet and back down the stairs?"
"Do you hear what I'm sayin', Ezra?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Ezra dusted off his trousers as he stood.
"You agree with it?"
"You are quite adept at speaking," Standish looked over the railing and down the street. "And can manage a certain level of persuasiveness."
"You aren't callin' me a liar, are ya?"
"Of course not."
Vin could hear the flat tone of Ezra's voice. "I wouldn’t lie to you."
Standish turned toward him and their eyes met. Ezra looked so lost and perplexed. Vin kept trying, "I don't know what Shaffer or Nate said to you, but ya gotta believe what I've been sayin'. I wouldn't lie to you, Ez," Vin repeated. "You gotta take a chance and believe me."
"I'll try," Ezra replied seriously.
"I'm glad of that," Vin responded. At least that, he thought.
Ezra nodded and offered again, "Do you need some assistance in gettin' down from here?"
"Yeah, I ‘spect," Vin said after thinking a moment.
Ezra offered a hand and Vin managed to stagger to his one good foot. Leaning on the gambler, Vin made his way to the stairs. Tanner had left his crutch at the bottom of the stairs when he realized it was unmanageable as he climbed up earlier. He could see it now, propped up against the banister.
Good thing that Nathan hadn't seen it there. That was one sure fire way to get Jackson's ire up. Funny, the idea of irritating Nathan didn't bother Tanner very much.
"Long way down," Vin muttered as he stared down the staircase. "Didn't look so bad on the way up."
"A touch of vertigo, Mr. Tanner?"
Vin laughed. "Dunno what that'd be, Ez. I'm just thinkin' that it'd be best if I didn't fall."
"Don't worry, my friend," Ezra replied, shouldering as much of Vin's weight as he was allowed. "I wouldn't let that happen. We'll make it though this. It's only a small descent."
Part 11:
After depositing the tracker at his wagon, Ezra strode back across the street and toward his saloon. He came to a stop on the boardwalk and looked at the Redbird's front window, the newly painted façade. The building had been a gray and flaking mess not so long ago, but a fresh coat of paint does wonders. A good façade, Ezra thought, is a wonderful thing. It hides a wealth of sins.
He turned his attention to the wooden sign that hung over the walk. An image of a bird on a hand had been etched there, along with the carefully lettered name -- The Redbird Saloon. It was his saloon, his business. He had dreamed of this place for so long, it was difficult to believe that he had it. He had dreamed of many things in his youth and had learned that wishes were frail and dangerous things, like moths in the night -- easily ignited by the flames they sought.
He watched the sign swing in the gentle evening breeze.
How long would it last? Would the saloon fall from his grasp and be lost…would it perish in the flames as so many things had in his past? The Standish Tavern loomed large in his memory. Perhaps the Redbird would be lost as well -- not in a quick cutting blow, as the Standish; maybe it would just drift away and be gone before he recognized he was losing it -- money goes so fast and is spent in so many ways.
Would another deception take it from him? His mother had assured him that they wouldn't be in competition when she won the World Famous Ritz. Yet, Maude had done everything she could to ruin him, to slap him like a poorly trained dog and get him to behave as she saw fit.
Would he ever fit the ideal she set for him? Would he ever become the lawman that Larabee and the others expected him to be? Would he ever fit in anywhere? He had been adrift for so long in his life, and here was his first anchor in many years -- not the saloon really, but this town. As he thought of Four Corners, he sighed. He thought he'd gained a modicum of respect in here, but it seemed that he was only fooling himself -- again. How many people had Shaffer talked to? Apparently nobody had anything good to say about him.
The piano was gone. It was Palmer's now. Well, as he had told Vin, it was for the best. He had already come to accept this fact and would dwell on it no longer. He had spent much of his life divorcing himself from things that he'd wanted, this was just another small thing. Anyway, he was perceptive enough to realize that it wasn't the loss of the piano that had brought him to this somber mood, it was some thing more personal.
He recalled his conversation with Nathan. Jackson had had every right to remove his money; Ezra realized that. He only wished that the healer hadn't been so quick to assume so many things. He only wished that Jackson had shown some degree of trust. Shaffer's insults could be put aside, of course. Ezra was used to the comments made by people he barely knew, but he had counted Nathan as a friend.
He respected Nathan. He only wished that someday the healer might learn to respect him as well.
Well, it was clear that Nathan had thought that his business wasn't worth investing in. It was just a saloon in any case, in a town that already had several. If the Redbird were to close tomorrow, its demise would hardly be noticed -- another dream foreclosed. At least Vin and Nathan dreamed of lofty things, of education, of helping others. Those were ideals that couldn't be taken away. They would make excellent samurais -- all six of them.
Ezra smiled as he recalled what Vin had said. Was any of that true? Tanner certainly seemed sincere. Had he been able to con the perceptive tracker so entirely? Did others feel the same way as Vin? He had been working cons for so long, it was difficult to tell if he was still in the midst of one or not. He watched the sign move back and forth as he thought.
Maybe, he thought, just maybe, Vin had spoken the truth. He didn’t think Vin would have lied, but he knew that Tanner might have only been trying to make him feel better and uttering whatever he thought would do the trick. But maybe, Tanner wasn't trying to hoodwink him. Maybe, he was right. Maybe there could be seven...
Could that be possible?
"Hey, Ezra," Nathan's voice called from behind him. Ezra turned to face the healer as he approached. He noted Jackson's shirt, dark blue, stiff with starch and still showing the creases where it had been folded.
"Mr. Jackson, you're looking particularly fashionable tonight."
Nathan grinned widely. "Yeah?" He held out his arms and looked down at his new shirt. "I jus' bought it. Think it looks okay?"
"You've made an excellent purchase, I should say. The color suits you."
"I kinda like it myself." Jackson straightened the cuffs. "Means a lot comin' from you, 'cause I guess you'd know what you were talkin' about when it comes to clothes."
"I do have a certain fashion sense."
"Yeah, ya do." Nathan nodded and then craned his neck around to see inside the saloon. "Have ya seen Vin anywhere?"
"I just left him."
"Is he keepin' off that leg of his?" Nathan asked skeptically. "He was up and about earlier."
"He was resting comfortably in his wagon." Ezra waited for Nathan to contest him, for him to express his disbelief in the simple and currently true statement.
"Good. Looks like he's finally listenin' to me. I half-expected to find him out ridin' that horse of his or doin' somethin' foolish like climbin' onto the roof."
Ezra smiled secretively. "Mr. Jackson, how would he have managed the stairs?"
Nathan shook his head. "Knowing him, he'd do it if he had the right incentive."
"One never knows," Ezra responded.
"He'd best listen if he wants to heal right." Nathan screwed up his mouth and seemed to come to a decision. He carefully considered what he was going to say before he spoke. "Well, I'm glad I found you 'cause I wanted to talk." He looked self-conscious as he continued, "I wanted to thank ya, Ezra."
"Thank me? For what?"
"For bein' so decent about givin' me that money yesterday. And I wanted to apologize, 'cause I know I was a bit blunt about it." He rubbed the back of his head. "Didn't mean to be. I think I got this idea in my mind and …well…I think I came off rather poorly. I'm sorry 'bout that." He stared at his feet a minute. "You handin' me that money really meant a lot to me. I wanted that kit and those books so bad. I jus'… couldn't let 'em be sent away."
Ezra nodded when Jackson looked up at him. "I believe I have some understanding of what it's like to desire something."
"And bein' able to buy myself a few things was... it was..." Jackson paused and looked down the street to see if anyone was near enough to hear. He stepped closer to Ezra. "I never could do that before, jus' buy whatever I wanted. I never had money like that." His voice was lowered even further and Ezra had to lean in to hear him properly. "I never owned much in life. My own life didn't even belong to me for a long time. We was just property, bought and sold…" He paused again, collecting himself. "I've had so many years of nothing. Last night, I stayed in a nice hotel for the first time in my life. Then, I was able to go into a store and jus' look at stuff and think that I wanted it, and then I bought it."
Nathan stopped talking again and blinked his eyes. "It was just very special to me... it meant a lot."
Ezra rested a hand on Nathan's arm. "The money was always yours to use as you pleased. I'm glad that you found a fulfilling way to utilize it."
"Just wanted to thank you. I never expected to have so much. I wanted to tell you that you've done a mighty fine job with the Redbird and all." He smiled. "Never thought I'd see the day, but I kinda think I like spendin' money."
Ezra rolled his eyes. "It's a tempting habit that'll be difficult to break."
"I know." Nathan reached into his pocket and withdrew a small fold of money. "I got $60 left and figured I'd better do somethin' with it b'fore I spent it all. I was wonderin' if I could still invest it in the Redbird. Ya know, ‘re-invest’, since it seems to be quite profitable." He said the word slowly, drawing out the syllables. He ducked his head as he added, "I figure I was a fool to take out that money when I did, but I gotta catch up somehow."
Ezra smiled and wrapped an arm around Jackson's shoulder. "Come, my friend, let's discuss this business over a drink. Investors receive a discount on all purchases in the Redbird, you understand."
"Yeah, I understand," Nathan said with a grin, stooping to conform to Ezra's shorter stature.
"Where'd you stay in Ridge City?" Ezra asked as he pushed open the door with one hand.
"The Briarwood," Nathan responded.
"Excellent choice. The food is always good, the staff is cordial, and they wash the sheets with lavender."
"I thought that's what it was. Smelled mighty nice!" Nathan smiled as he walked into the Redbird with Ezra's arm over his shoulder.
Part 12:
Vin sat at the back of his wagon, the moonlight illuminating the town. Four Corners was alive with its usual nightlife. The saloons were all open for business. People strolled the boardwalk, enjoying the mild evening.
He observed Ezra on the boardwalk, had seen him stand there for a long time watching the sign that hung above the door to the Redbird. He wondered what was going though the gambler's head, hoping that Ezra came to some decision that favored their discussion.
He watched Nathan's approach and witnessed the conversation between the healer and the gambler. For a moment Vin wondered if he should look for help, thinking that the situation would come to blows. He stayed put, realizing that maybe a bit of ‘martial spirit’ might be for the best. Hell, he had almost wanted to deck Nathan earlier.
Instead of a fight, he saw the two men talking quietly together, Nathan looking embarrassed through most of it, and Ezra was turned in the wrong direction for Vin to see him properly. He smiled when he saw Ezra reach his arm over Nathan's shoulder, and when he saw Nathan stoop. The two men entered the Redbird together.
Down the street, Leo Quail pounded out another chorus of "Rally Round the Flag" in Digger Dan's and his rival across the street competed with "The Yellow Rose of Texas". The two songs collided and became a mish-mash of unintelligible sounds.
The Redbird produced no music, but a rumble of conversation flowed through her doors as the patrons entered and stayed for the evening. From within, someone laughed loudly, glasses clinked and people moved about comfortably.
Vin returned his attention to the book, lit by the moon's glow. He flipped back a sheet of velum to reveal the watercolor print of samurais displaying their armament in pale colors.
THE END -- by NotTasha
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