RATING: PG
CATEGORY: OW
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Ezra and Chris and Everyone
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 is sent away to the big city to help bring in a dangerous man.  Things go badly
FEEDBACK: Yes please! comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.
SPOILERS: None
DATE: May 5, 2015

Cin-City
By NotTasha

PART 1:

A ruthless gang had been robbing banks throughout the area, known for finding locations with an influx of gold.  They had no qualms with killing anyone who stood in their way.   

A tiny gold rush had hit the hills over Four Corners, so the gang tried their luck in town.  When they made their attempt at the bank, they'd been surprised by the vigilance and the ferocity of the town's protectors.   

The gang of ten went after the team of Seven, and soon nine men were in custody, with only minor injuries amongst the Four Corners regulars.  Ezra was able to get a good look at the last man, but he was occupied with taking down their lookout, and then there were the others in his team that needed tending.  Matt Harrington, the leader of the gang, managed to get away.  There was no doubting that he'd show up again somewhere.  It was only a matter of time.

Weeks later, Harrington seemed to have resurfaced in his old stomping grounds, Cincinnati, Ohio.  He brought a new gang together, forsaking the Wild West for the established banks of the east.  Harrington was going up in the world.  Judge Travis asked that Standish travel to the city to help the officials in identifying the man – Ezra was one of the few who'd seen Harrington and lived. 

It was a tough time to be sending one of the Seven away, what with the gold in the hills and a tenacious fever going through the area, but Ezra went willingly, glad to spend some time in the city.  Besides, it would be for only a few days.

He sent a telegram when he arrived, stating that all was well.  The next telegram, a few days later, said that his goal would not be accomplished as quickly as Travis had speculated.

For nearly three weeks, semi-regular notes explained Ezra's lack of progress.  "NO SIGHT OF TARGET" and "STILL WAITING DOING NOTHING."   Then a telegram stated that he would be out of communication for an unknown amount of time.  He would send a letter to explain the details.

Nearly a week later, the letter arrived, sent on the same day as the telegram. 

"It is a frustrating situation.

Why was I sent to this metropolis if I am not to provide any assistance in the endeavor of bringing Matthew Harrington to justice? I am a mere criminal to these Officers of the Peace.  They have seen my record and have no regard for the pardon I received.  They believe I should be locked away for my past crimes.  I have served enough time behind bars to satisfy my sense of justice, but not theirs.

When they are not treating me as a serious threat to their safety, they behave toward me as if I were a simpleton that needs everything explained in excruciating detail.  They have been calling me "Cowboy" if you can believe that, and seem to be fixed on the idea that everyone who lives "The Wild West" is a violent gunslinger who has no qualms about shooting down any miscreant that looks at him sideways.  This is true of some, but not everyone.

They believe that I have no idea how an investigation is handled.  True, I'm used to different tactics, but I will not be treated as an imbecile.  They are determined to follow their protocol unbendingly.  I must say that some of their actions are questionable. There are some underhanded deals going on, of that I have no doubt.

I have not yet caught sight of Harrington, and the officers have been unable to detain him so that I can make a positive identification of the outlaw.  It seems as if this is not by chance

Since I am making no progress under their good graces and they seem to be blocking my way, I am branching out on my own.  I believe I have found a way into Mr. Harrington's new 'gang' and will do what I can to ingratiate myself into his services.  I do not believe he was able to see me when he was in Four Corners, and I have altered my look in any case.  He will not recognize me.

Wish me well.  Yours, most sincerely, Ezra P. Standish"

Larabee fired a telegram off to Stanley Carr, the Police Captain at the precinct where Ezra was assigned.  The next telegram went to Judge Travis.  Another was sent to Ezra, but he was unsure of when Standish would be able to respond.  It said simply, "DO NOT DO ANYTHING STUPID."

Neither Standish nor Carr responded.  Travis' telegram stated that he'd look into the situation.  It took a few days, but the judge finally was able to deliver some information.  Standish had parted ways with the police force, but had been sending them covert messages regarding his work with Harrington.  Standish had succeeded in gaining a place with the man's crew.  Travis was told that this venture was not approved by the police, and they accepted no responsibility for what might happen to Standish.

That was the first time that one of them almost boarded a train to Ohio.  Larabee was ready to pack and go before Buck reasoned that it would be better to stay away.  "If you ask too many questions and he's trying to keep himself secret, you'll just be causing him harm.  Let Ezra finish this up and come home."

Chris considered going anyway, to find out what was going on with Carr, but they were shorthanded.  And what could he do anyway?  The town was filling up with folks who were determined to bring gold out of the ground.  Every night, a new riot was breaking out as the frustrated prospectors took to the streets.  It was a constant battle to keep everyone in line.

Nathan was in demand as the fever went through the town, with Vin currently in residence at the clinic, caught in its grips.  It was an unpleasant sickness that brought a rising temperature and delirium.  The worst of the illness would pass after a difficult day followed by several days of bed-rest afterward.  It kept Nathan busy day and night.

It made no sense for one of them to leave, and just cool their heels as they waited for Ezra to finish up his work.  He was a big boy and could take care of himself.

Larabee wired Travis asking for an update, and was rewarded a few days later with the good news that Harrington and his men had been captured that morning. 

"Praise the Lord," Josiah said when the telegram reached his hands.  "Ezra will finally be able to come home."  It had been over a month by that point.

Expecting an immediate telegram from Ezra, the others hung near town, watching Juje's telegraph shack.  Nothing came.

Larabee sent another message to Carr that received a response the following day.  It read: "STANDISH RECOVERED <STOP> UNDER TREATMENT AT GENERAL HOSPITAL<STOP>."

Alarmed, they wired the hospital immediately.  The response came that Standish had been admitted but had since been discharged.  No other information was given.  Anxious as hell, Larabee sent another telegram to Carr and to Travis demanding information, and another to Standish reading "WHAT IS GOING ON<STOP> ARE YOU ALL RIGHT<STOP>"

The wire service was going to be the death of them all with its frustrating delays and clipped messages.

A message from Travis arrived, explaining that Ezra had been shot in the arm during the capture and the injury was not serious.   He'd been released from the hospital.  Carr's office would be sending him a detailed letter to the judge's office, and Travis would forward it when it arrived.

Nathan wanted to go, but was too overwhelmed with treating the folks suffering from the fever.  Vin was on the mend, but Josiah and JD were both suffering now.  Then, Chris started to get woozy.  He would be in bed soon with the disease.

Ezra had received hospital treatment in the city, so what good was a healer from a tiny town?  

Gold kept coming into town, and Four Corners remained ridiculously crowded.  They'd called in the men who regularly helped them when they were short staffed, but it still wasn't enough.  Still, Buck made plans, and sent a wire, letting Ezra know he was coming.  If Ezra was hurt, they were going to send someone.

The next morning, before Buck could go any further, another wire – this time from Ezra.  "I AM FINE <STOP> WOUND IS SLIGHT<STOP>BUCK PLEASE REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE NEEDED <STOP> DETAILS TO FOLLOW IN LETTER <STOP>"

The next day, another telegram from Standish, saying little aside that he was recovering and that he would soon be on a train home.    And then, another telegram two days later, saying that he would spend a few days in the city.  With that, they all waited.

JD and Josiah were feeling better by then, and Chris – worse.

The letter from Standish and the one from Carr, forwarded by Travis, came on the same day.  Larabee opened Ezra's letter first, perplexed by the handwriting.  "I may not be seein' straight right now," he said, "but this ain't Ezra's handwriting."

Vin corrected him.  "That's his left hand.  He writes with his right most times, but does his sums with his left.  That's how his numbers look."

Larabee frowned and read the letter. 

"Dear Mr. Larabee, Nathan, Josiah, J.D., Buck and Vin.  Please be aware that the order of your names probably has nothing to do with preference of any kind." 

Well, although the handwriting was different, the words were not.

"I am certain that you are somewhat alarmed by the news that I have managed to wound myself during this escapade, but please be assured that this injury is nothing more than an inconvenience.  A bullet clipped my right arm.

Worry not, the wound is insubstantial.  It will just need some time to heal.  Sadly, I have injured my favorite arm, thus the poor penmanship of this letter.  Please forgive me." 

Larabee smirked because Ezra's left-handed writing was better formed than his own right-handed.

"I believe I may take a few day's leisure at the hotel before returning to the bustling streets of Four Corners."

"He's been there for well over month already," Nathan said petulantly.  He was sitting at one of the tables, his head in his hands.  The fever had finally latched hold of the healer and he really should have been in bed at that moment, but he'd come down from the clinic when he heard that letter had arrived.  "Why would he want to stay longer if he was okay?"

Yeah, Larabee had to admit, that sounded a bit peculiar.

"How goes Mr. Jackson's fight against the dreaded disease inflicted upon our fair town?  I hope that he has not succumbed as well."

Nathan snorted at this.

"It may be wise for me to stay here at present if the fever is still virulent.  I am not at my best and would prefer to remain on the road to recovery."

"That's why," Josiah said, looking to Nathan.  "He might have a point."

The healer sighed, "Yeah, it might be best if he stayed away for a bit longer."  He looked weary as hell.  "If he's still recovering from that gunshot, another few days away might be a good idea."

"Yeah, probably," Larabee said with a shake of his head.  "We can tell him to start heading back though, maybe get him to Ridge City?"

Nathan shook his head in his hands.  "They got it bad there.  I hear it's as far as Dodge City."

"St. Louis then?" Chris tried. 

"We'll let him know," Josiah commented.  "Unless, of course he's feeling poorly.  Might be best to just rest where he is then."

Larabee continued reading.

"Are the hills still filled with gold?  I may have to return soon in order to get in on the rush, but I fear the hills will be depleted before am able to return.  I have serious doubts on the quantity of gold available.  The quality seemed questionable.  I fear that the labor expended in the pursuit may not equal the possible gain.  I believe I would have better luck with the amassed rabble that is undoubtedly filling your streets.  If they haven't already spent all their money on mining supplies, I could definitely free them from remains in their pockets."

Chris shook his head, realizing that Ezra was missing out on a gold mine of his own with all the frustrated prospectors currently in town.

"I hope that my absence hasn't caused undo stress on the rest of you.  I know that resources are stretched.  I hope that no one else has attempted to breach the bank and that not too many saloons have been broken up in the melees.

I will return as soon as it is advisable.  Yours, most faithfully, Ezra P. Standish."

"Well, that sounded good," Nathan said. 

"He sure gave us a scare," Josiah said, looking relieved as he clapped a hand on Buck's back.  "He'll be back soon!"

Larabee opened the letter that Travis had sent them, written by Carr.

"Travis," it started.  "I was misinformed regarding the man you sent.  I was under the impression that he was a certified lawman.  Then, I found out he is little more than a hired gun in an unincorporated town.  His record is extensive.  I feel that I was dangerously misinformed regarding this person.  This is especially unjustified considering that we are working for the public good."

"That guy's a prick," Buck stated.  "No wonder Ezra didn't like him."

"E. Standish was not under my supervision for much the duration of this investigation.  Against my orders, he ingratiated himself into Harrington's company.  Due to his history, we were unable to be certain of his intentions.

On April 3^rd, during the arrest of Harrington and men.  E. Standish chose an ill-advised position and was caught in the crossfire.  He was recovered the following day and…"

"Following day?" Nathan cut in, blinking to clear his eyes.  "Did I hear that right?  They didn't find him until the next day?"

Larabee clutched at the letter, his brow furrowing.  "It doesn't explain," he said.

"That son of a bitch!" Buck growled as he got unsteadily to his feet. 

"Steady, Buck," Vin said, putting up a hand to keep Buck from falling over.

Nathan sighed, realizing that he'd have another patient in the clinic by the end of this meeting.  At least they'd be able to keep each other company, and let Josiah take care of things.

"What the hell's goin' on out there?" Buck barked.

Larabee's frown deepened.  "Carr blames Ezra for what happened to him," he said. "He's saying that it's his own damn fault he got shot."

"That's not fair!" JD cried.

Larabee stood.  "I'll send the wire. I'll tell Ezra to relax at the hotel for now.  He can head to St. Louis in a few days if he's up to it."

"One of us should go fetch him," Buck said, blinking a bit too much as he sagged.

They were in sorry shape.  Nearly all of them were sick with the fever or in various states of recovery.  There was no telling when the gold would stop trickling into town.  Every ounce of it meant more trouble.  Every new miner meant more upset visitors.

They sent the telegram, and waited to hear when he was on the move westward.

More days passed.  Ezra sent regular messages from the hotel, with updates that he was fine, and asking if things had improved in Four Corners.   He hadn't made any plans to begin his travels.  When asked, he returned with "TRAVIS PAYING FOR HOTEL".    They figured he'd rather let the judge foot his bill at the agreed to hotel, rather than take his chances in St. Louis, or have to pay out of his own pocket.

Ezra had been away for six weeks, and the fever in town was finally diminishing.  Nathan gave the 'go ahead' and Ezra let them know he'd be out on the next train.

Except, he wasn't. 

They'd all planned to ride out to meet at the station when Ezra's train eventually made it there, but just before he was to depart Cincinnati, Winston Juje, the telegraph operator called them into his shack to hand them the latest message personally.

It said that Ezra would have to delay for a day or two.  He was changing his residence and he'd be unable to respond to any further telegrams sent to the hotel.  The message ended with "REVISE TO TOP HAT GD."

"Top Hat?" Buck frowned, still muddled as he recovered.  "Revise to Top Hat?   Does that mean he's gonna start wearing a different hat?"

"I don't know anyone who wears one in these parts," Vin said, and then he paused.  "'Cept, of course, Top Hat Bob." Vin looked to the others.  "He might be tellin' us to use that name to contact him."

"GD?" Chris tried.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"General Delivery," Juje told them.  "He wants us to send it General Delivery instead of to an address.  That way the message will be kept on file at the major telegraph hubs and he can pick it up wherever he pleases."

"Sneaky son of a bitch," Buck stated.

"He's always being sneaky," Nathan grumbled.  "Is he doing it because he likes foolin' with us, or does he have a reason?"

"Well, let's see what he has to say about that," Chris said and nodded to Juje to pick up his pad.

"You know," Juje said.  "If you need it to happen, when I send it, I can change the codes and make it look like your message is coming from somewhere else."

They looked at him in disbelief.

He added, "And if you feel like you want to use a different name, I won't ask questions."

They sent the message to Bob Spikes in care of General Delivery Cincinnati, asking, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING".  Juje coded it as if it had come from Cedar Ridge, from Jock Steele.   When asked if the Cedar Ridge operator would ask questions when he heard the message coming through, Juje rolled his eyes and said.  "We got an understanding," and "We got ways of letting each other know."

"DEPARTING TOMORROW," Bob Spikes told Jock in his next message.  It had been sent to Cedar Ridge, but Juje picked it up, as he listened to all the messages that came through the wire.

But the fever resurfaced in Four Corners with a vengeance, so Jock sent a message to Bob Spikes, telling him stay away from Four Corners.  Still, Bob refused to start his journey home.  "INVESTIGATING," he said.  "NEED MORE TIME."

Jock's next message was an order to leave town, to head to St. Louis.  Bob replied with, "NO" and "THIS IS IMPORTANT."

What the hell was Ezra up to?  Harrington and his gang had been taken down.  There was no reason for him to stay.

The next message to Bob demanded to know where he was.  The fever had run its way through all six of them by now, and the gold was a bust.  The town was emptying.  "WHERE ARE YOU?" Jock asked.  "I AM COMING TO HELP".

"DO NOT COME," Bob returned.  "WILL CAUSE DIFFICULTIES."

"Difficult, my ass!" Buck grumbled.  "I'm goin' to get that stupid so-in-so, and haul his butt back here!"

"WHERE ARE YOU?" the question was sent again.  Chris and Buck would be on the next train east, if they just knew how to find Ezra.  Cincinnati was no small town, and they had no idea of where to search, especially if Ezra was being sneaky.

"NOT TELLING," was the childish response they received.  "ANSWERS WILL COME IN TIME" and "MUST COMPLETE TASK.  NEXT PHASE."  The message ended with "REVISE TO HANDSOME J".

"What's that one about?" JD asked.

"Handsome Jack Averell," Chris supplied, remembering the man who'd worked for Ella Gaines.  Something was definitely going on. This wasn't just Standish trying to annoy them. 

What the hell was this 'task'?  Ezra's work in Ohio was done.

Their next message was routed to look like Cedar Ridge again, this time they used the name 'Lester Banks' as the sender. "JACK <STOP> EXPLAIN"

"WORKING" was the return.  And "DELAYED."

Working?  Larabee ground his teeth in annoyance.

"JACK WHAT ARE YOU WORKING ON" was their next message to him.    "COMING TO ASSIST," he added. If Ezra would just tell them where he was!

"PENDING" was the enigmatic reply. "NO NEED FOR ASSISTENCE."

Chris was going to strangle the son of a bitch when he finally got his hands on him.

And a week later, Jack sent the message: "ACHIEVED" and "NEXT TASK PENDING."

"EXPLAIN," they asked again.

"NOT AT THIS TIME," Jack replied.  "UNWISE."

Almost another week passed, and another message arrived:  "TASK COMPLETE.  NEXT PHASE." and "DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING" and "REVISE TO PINKERTON MAN".

"Cyrus Poplar?" JD tried.  "Why's he keep changing names?"

Something was very definitely wrong.  And they were too far away to do anything.

Their next message was routed through Roosterville. Tired of trying to make up names, it was simply signed CL.  "CYRUS <STOP> WHERE ARE YOU <STOP>".  If they knew where the idiot was, they could go after him and end this ridiculous game.  It was time for Ezra to come back.  What the hell was going on?  "WHEN DO YOU RETURN"

"SAFE," was the reply.  And "SOON"

They all stayed near town, waiting for the next message to arrive.

If Ezra was running from something, then why wasn't he leaving town? 

By then, it had been over two months since Ezra left Four Corners.  Not willing to put up with any more of the shenanigans, Larabee wired Cyrus, through Roosterville, letting him know that he was getting on the next train to Cincinnati and would locate him one way or another. 

"NO NEED." Came the reply.  "MISSION COMPLETE <STOP> LEAVING TODAY <STOP> REVISE TO ACHILLES BROTHER<STOP>"

"So, he's Hector Thompson now?" Nathan said with a shake of his head.  "What's he doing?"

"Who knows?"  Larabee shook his head.  "But if he's leaving today, he should be back to Ridge City within the next few days."  Finally!

But, it took more than a few days.  For the next week, more messages trickled in, from Hector, sent to Roosterville for CL.  The first came from a town just outside of Cincinnati, and then another from Louisville.  "TRAVELING", "HEADED HOME", "ALL IS WELL" and then, "SHOT THE 10K".

"Is he getting more cryptic, or is it just me?" Josiah asked.

Frustrated as hell, Larabee said, "Lucius Stutz, the man who shot Ezra at the governor's rally."  The assassin had meant to kill Standish – if it hadn't been for the money stashed in his jacket, Ezra would have been a dead man.  There were times that Larabee was grateful that Standish was a greedy son of a bitch.

"Junior," Josiah corrected soberly.  "Lucius Stutz, Jr."   After a moment, Josiah stated, "He seems to have a curious way of picking names to use."

"Yeah," Larabee muttered, realizing type of men Ezra had chosen for his aliases, all of them had questionable reputations.

"It shouldn't take this long to come home.  He sure is making a lot of stops," Buck said.

Another few days passed, and a note came from St. Louis from Lucius Stutz, Jr, letting CL in Roosterville know that everything was fine, and that he would leave the next day.

Larabee was fed up and concerned as hell.  "I'll meet the idiot halfway if he's going to keep hopscotching his way here.  I'm not going to let him waylay me again."   He headed to Ridge City to catch the next train east.

Josiah found Larabee at the Ridge City train station later that day.

"He's coming," Sanchez said happily.  "Thank the Lord!  We intercepted the telegram from 'L. STUTZ JR' after you left."

Larabee stepped to him to read it, but Josiah went on, "He sent it from Dodge City.  He's on his way.  He'll be here tomorrow."

Chris sighed in relief.  "Guess I'm stayin' put," he said.  "Might miss him if he makes another goddamn stop."

"We'll get rooms at the hotel," Josiah decided.

So they stayed the night, and in the afternoon, went to meet the promised train. 

If Ezra tried to delay again, there would be no stopping them.  Chris would board the next Eastbound and haul him back to Four Corners – one way or another.

PART 2

The train arrived in Ridge City on schedule, and Chris and Josiah were on the platform to greet it.

Larabee couldn't quite explain how he felt.  He was annoyed as hell at all the telegrams, and more worried than he cared to say, and just damn anxious to see Ezra again.  Four Corners hadn't felt right since his departure.  With a shock of realization, Chris concluded that it had been nearly three months since Ezra left on his 'day or two' mission.  It had been too long.

"He's taking a long time getting off," Larabee grumbled as the train steamed at the platform.  "He better not be leading us on again."

"Not everyone has stepped off yet," Josiah told him, watching the departing passengers. 

"He said that he would be on this one."

"Said that before."

"He's coming," Josiah said confidently.

Chris glanced toward the telegraph office, wondering if he should check for a new message.  "If he got off at an earlier goddamn stop and sends us another goddamn telegram tellin' us that he's delayed again, and uses some other goddamn name, I'll skin him."

"Well, well, well, how welcoming!" the familiar voice reached them before they saw him.   

Josiah and Chris turned expectantly, and didn't immediately move -- stunned by the sight.   If Ezra hadn't spoken first, they wouldn't have recognized him.

He was pale and thinner. His hair was longer and dark – almost black -- and he sported a layer of stubble.  His drab clothing didn't fit him properly and the strange slouch hat was totally out of place. He looked like a different person.

Ezra smiled at them, in that tight way he used when he was hustling people.  He stopped his slow walk toward them, staying out of reach as if he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Chris and Josiah stared. 

Not receiving a response, Ezra's smile fell and he asked, "Am I a disappointment?  I could go back."   He looked over his shoulder as if considering getting back on the train.

"No," Josiah said softly. He stepped forward, slowly, and put one hand on Ezra's shoulder.  He paused a moment, meeting Ezra's confused eyes, and then pulled him closer into an embrace.  "I'm so glad you're home," the big man said.

Ezra looked alarmed, but let Josiah hug him, giving Sanchez a quick pat on the back, that changed to an embrace.  "Glad to be home," he replied as he let Josiah pull him in tighter.  He kept his gaze on Larabee though, gauging his expression.

Larabee was angry.

It took a long minute, but Josiah finally released Ezra, smiling happily.

"Stutz?" Larabee stated, annoyed at the use of the name.

"Standish," Ezra corrected, touching his chest.  "I'm afraid I've been away too long and you no longer recognize me."  He smiled at the joke, not seeming to realize the truth in the statement.

"What the hell, Ezra," Chris snapped.  "What happened to you?"

"I believe I told you in the letter," Ezra said simply.

"Oh, a lot more went on then what you wrote in that goddamn letter.  What the hell was going on with all those bullshit telegrams? With that shootout?  You were hit."

People were skirting around them, trying to avoid the scene on the platform. 

"There was only so much I could write in the letter."  Ezra flexed his left hand.  "And the hand cramps after too much abuse.  I'm not used to writing with this one.  My right arm is healed now, praise the Lord."

"Those goddamn telegrams!" Larabee repeated.  "What kind of game were you playing?"

"A very serious one," Ezra said curtly. He moved so that Josiah was between him and Chris, wary of him.

'Was someone trying to hurt you, son?" Josiah asked, he put one hand on Ezra as if he was afraid he'd disappear.

"I am hoping I was able to get free of them."  Ezra looked about anxiously.  "And I believe I was successful."

Larabee closed his eyes a moment, trying to understand it all.  "Come on," he said. "We're going someplace where you can tell me what the hell happened.  Do you have a bag?" He looked toward where the porter was unloading the baggage.

Ezra shook his head.  "I had to jettison much," he responded.

Chris blew out a breath.  "Let's find a restaurant."

Ezra said softly, "I'd really just like to go home."

Larabee tone changed, becoming softer.  "You look like hell," he said.

"I know."  Ezra made a halfhearted shrug.  "The dye will eventually wash out of my hair.  I had to leave all my good clothing and my usual weapons at home.  The substitute I brought for protection was confiscated by the men in blue."  He kept talking, his voice light.  "And I've been away from my regular laundress.  One just cannot trust those in the city.  They'll ruin everything."  He smiled again in that forced expression.

Chris shook his head, stepped forward and extended a hand.  He watched as Ezra reacted with a certain amount of trepidation, and finally reached out as well and took Larabee's hand. 

"It's good to have you back, Ezra," Chris said sincerely.

"It's good to be back," Ezra answered, looking relieved.

"We need to talk about this," Chris said.

 Ezra answered, "Really, I'd like to be on our way."

"I need some answers," Chris declared.

"You will get them," Ezra said.

7.7.7.7.7.7

But, of course Larabee didn't get the answers immediately. 

They made a quick stop at the telegraph office to send the message to the others, explaining that they'd picked up the 'package' from the train.  Then, they made it to the livery.

Ezra was delighted to find that Josiah had brought Chaucer with him, and he spent several long minutes petting the beast, while Chris and Josiah did their best to keep the exuberant animal from crushing his man.  Chaucer acted as if he wanted to climb up into Ezra's arms, and Ezra looked as if would allow it, if only he could handle the weight.

"Hello, my dear friend," Ezra cooed, his accent thick and honeyed.  "Did you miss me terribly?  Did they treat you well in my absence?  Sorry, Chaucer, I have no sweets in my pockets at the moment, but rest assured there will be all the peppermints your heart desires once I can visit Potter's store."

The horse banged its head so hard against his chest, that Ezra was forced backwards into Josiah with an 'oof'.  Ezra just smiled and went back to combing his fingers through Chaucer's mane.

It took some time to get moving again.  Once Ezra was in the saddle, he claimed fatigue.  He didn't want to go over the situation more than once, and would wait until they met up with the others in Four Corners.  "You wouldn't want to exert me," he said to Chris, and then winked at Josiah. 

"I want to hear it all, Standish," Chris replied testily.

"There is quite a tale to tell, and the others will be jealous if you learn it first.  Don't you agree, Josiah?  No sense in goin' over it more often than necessary."

Chris shot Josiah a glare and the preacher just shrugged. He looked too happy just to have Ezra back, and was willing to let him have his way.

So they rode toward town at a leisurely pace.  Ezra asked questions about what had happened in Four Corners during his absence.

"How goes the gold rush?" Ezra asked.

"Mostly over," Josiah responded.  "It didn't amount to much in the end."

"A pity," Ezra responded.  "I would have liked to have taken a taste of that.  Unfortunate that my schedule didn't allow for prospecting."

"I can never quite imagine you digging in the dirt, Ezra," Josiah said.

"I've done plenty of digging in my life," Ezra said.  "I have dealt with plenty of dirt.  Were there any further attempts on the bank?"

"None successful," Josiah told him.  "A few tried.  They failed."

"No one hurt?"

"None except for a few potential outlaws."

"I hope our town prospered from the influx of customers travelin' through."

"It evened out.  Frustrations ran high.  Chairs were busted.  Windows shattered," Josiah explained.

Ezra sighed. "I do miss a good defenestration," he mumbled.  "You all managed?"

"We did," Josiah assured.

Later, he asked.  "And what about the fever that caused our Mr. Jackson so much grief?  I hope that it hasn't caused any grave harm."

"It caused a few days of discomfort for many, and a lot of work for Nathan, but everyone made it through."

"Very glad to hear that.  It just shows the skill of our Mr. Jackson.  He has that special ability to bring his patients through just about anythin'.  A marvel.  One might miss such personal care when in a metropolis."

"The fever takes a long time to shake off though.  It laid me low for over a week," Josiah went on.

"Then it's good that I stayed away," Ezra said.

"You could have headed out of that city, you know," Larabee said curtly.  "You could have let us know where you were once you left that hotel."

Ezra held up a hand and said, "All will be explained if you have a little patience."

Patience was always in short supply when it came to Larabee and Standish.

For the rest of the ride, Ezra said little, his head bobbing to the gait of his horse.  Chaucer seemed unusually rambunctious as he caroused with the other horses.  Job would have nothing to do with it, but Prophet seemed resigned to the antics. 

Larabee rode slightly behind, keeping an eye on Ezra, ready to grab him if he should start to waver.  Ezra looked as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in ages.

They were less than halfway home when four riders appeared in the distance.  There was a pause as they sized each other up.  It was too far to see them clearly, but Chris caught the glint of a spyglass.  Then, there was loud whoop.  The horses came charging toward them.

It was a race, with Peso taking the early lead, then Buck's big grey charged forward, but it was JD on Toby that reached them first. 

"Ezra!" JD shouted happily.  "Ezra!  You're here!  You made it!"

"Didn't hardly recognize you from a'far," Vin said, as he slammed Peso against Chaucer, making the chestnut gelding scramble for footing.  He cuffed the slouch hat from Ezra's head.  "What's this supposed to be?"

Ezra caught the hat as Buck came in at his other side, his horse shoving Josiah's aside.  "What you do to your hair?" Buck said, and rubbed a hand over Ezra's head. 

JD drove Toby in-between Chaucer and Peso.  The blazed black tried to take a nip out of the little bay, which started a commotion among the rowdy herd.  They all jostled for position. 

"Hey, Ezra," JD said, slapping Ezra on the shoulder.  "Your hairs nearly as dark as mine now, and just about as long."

"You tryin' to look like the kid?" Buck asked.

"Not such a bad idea, huh, Ezra?"  JD said.

"At least he washes it," Buck observed.

 JD shook his head at the comment.  "I wash it every Sunday!  Well, most Sundays."  He crossed his arms as he said, "I told you!  He ain't dead!"

"Didn't think he was," Vin said hotly.  Then, annoyed at being driven aside, he turned Peso sharply, and used him to drive a wedge between Chaucer and Buck's Clyde.  Chaucer was battered back and forth in the crush, but stood his ground.  In the midst of the chaos, Ezra smiled.

"Ez, what took you so long to come back?" Buck asked as he brought Clyde around to the front to avoid Peso.

"Didja stop eatin', or something?" Vin asked, as he grabbed hold of Ezra's arm.  "You're scrawny!"

"Would you three back off and let the man breathe!" Nathan chided as he stepped down from his horse and grabbed Toby's halter. "Give him some room!"

"Aw, Nate!" JD whined.  Reluctantly, the three gave way and dismounted.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Nathan demanded as he closed in.   "Get down from there, you fool!" he said, tugging at the fabric of Ezra's trousers.  Chris and Josiah dismounted to stand near the others, waiting to see what happened next.

"Come on, Ezra," Buck said.  "We'll have a little lunch while Nathan gets his mitts on you."

Seeing that everyone else was down, Ezra followed their lead, carefully sliding from his saddle, with Nathan offering help.  "I am capable…" Ezra tried to say.

"I know you're capable," Nathan cut him off.  "You're too damn capable.  Now, go sit down on that rock and let me see what they did to you."

Ezra gave Chris an unhappy look, but Chris responded with, "You're the one who wanted to get moving."

"They said he was dead," JD said, his voice betraying his worry and relief.  "Chris, they said he was dead."

"Who said it?" Chris asked, a snap in his voice.  Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Travis sent a message," JD said.  "Said he heard it from Carr.  Said it happened eight days ago and he just found out about it."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Ezra told them.

"Eight days ago," Chris echoed and looked to Ezra, who shrugged.

"You didn't dissuade him from his belief, did you?" Ezra asked as he sat down on a large rock.

"Hell no," Buck responded.  "We knew you were headed home when we got the note, but after all those different names, we weren't sure who we were talking to in the end."

"It was hell of a thing to hear," Vin said.  "If we didn't know better…"  He looked annoyed as he looked to Ezra and added, "You got to stop faking your death, Ezra.  It ain't kind!"

Ezra shrugged.  "I tried to warn you.  I told you 'don't believe everything' in one of my telegrams."

"That was supposed to warn us?" Buck responded incredulously.

"I figured you would understand," Ezra said and smiled.

Buck sighed and patted his pockets.  He came up with the telegram.  "Travis says he's coming to Four Corners to discuss it with you, Chris."

Larabee took the note from him.  "Killed in an accident," he said looking to Ezra who was being half-undressed by Nathan.  The others went about setting up for a break – getting a fire going and putting a kettle on for coffee.  "Care to explain this accident?" Larabee asked.

"That would take some time to tell," Ezra said.  "There's plenty that leads up to it."   He flinched as Nathan poked at him.  "Careful," he mumbled.

Nathan frowned.  "I don't like the look of that scar," he said, checking where Ezra had been shot.

"It didn't heal well," Ezra said forlornly.  His sharp eyes quickly met Nathan's, "And I did everything asked of me!" he declared.  "It wasn't my fault."

"No one's sayin' it is," Nathan replied.  It took a few minutes, but Nathan seemed satisfied enough and finally stepped back to allow Ezra to put his shirt back on.

"He's lost a lot of weight," Nathan declared.  "And looks about ready to drop.  When was the last time you had a decent meal?  When did you sleep?"

"I slept on the train," Ezra said.  "I had breakfast this morning."

Nathan frowned, wanting to ask more, but Larabee cut him off.

"Everyone's here," Chris stated.  "It's high time you started telling us what happened."

"Yes, of course," Ezra said as he shrugged his jacket back over his shoulders.  "I sent a letter telling you how things were going after my arrival.  Carr and his cronies wanted nothing to do with me.  I didn't care for their tactics in trying to capture Harrington.  They were most uncooperative."

"They didn't want to work with you?" JD asked.

Ezra paused, and said, "I believe that they felt I was beneath them and they didn't want me digging too deeply into what they were doing."  He took on a hard expression as he stated, "And they robbed me of my stipend."

"Stipend?"  Vin repeated the word.

"Travis had promised me a certain amount of regular cash. When I asked for it from Carr, he told me that it never came through.  I asked Travis about it, and he told me it had been paid.  Inquiries to Carr led nowhere, so I asked the honorable judge to send the money to my hotel instead, and he let me know that the request was ill-advised.  He trusted Carr and wanted me to work through him.  So, I did without."

"Travis wouldn't hear you out?"

"It wasn't worth the argument," Ezra said with a shake of his head, but there was a bitterness to the statement.

"You didn't tell us about that," Chris said

Ezra cocked his head, saying, "It would've been business as usual, wouldn't it?  Me seeking more money?  Seemed hardly worth mentioning."

"They weren't paying you?" Josiah asked.  "I thought that was one of the reasons you agreed to go."

A reproached look came over Ezra at that statement.  "I was trying to find Harrington.  He'd killed several people in our area, and the fine police force at that particular precinct didn't seem to care.  I was getting nowhere with them, so I decided I'd be better off without them."  Ezra paused when Buck sat down beside him on the rock, settling his saddlebags at his feet.  "I sent a message to both you and Judge Travis.  Then, I started maneuvering."

"And you found your way into Harrington's gang?" Chris asked.

Ezra nodded.  "It didn't take long.  I suppose I have the look of a criminal, so they accepted me without much persuasion.  I was with them for a few weeks and became a trusted associate."

"You weren't eating right," Nathan said, crossing his arms over his chest.   "I'm betting you've been this way since you started working for Harrington."

Buck was rooting in his bag, and pulled out a sack of peanuts.  "You know how he is Nate, when he's not happy, the man stops eating."  He opened the bag and offered it to Standish.

"I wasn't hungry," Ezra explained with a slight shrug, but he smiled and reached into the offered bag, coming back with a handful of peanuts.

Suddenly, JD was next to him.  "Hey, Ezra.  I brought a cheese sandwich.  You can have it if you want.  Mrs. Potter baked the bread this morning."

Ezra smiled, the tightness gone this time.  "Why, thank you, Mr. Dunne.  That would be agreeable, but I wouldn't want to leave you with nothing."

"Kid can share with me, Ez," Buck told him as he set down the peanuts and pulled out his own lunch.  "Unless of course you want a chicken leg?"

"A sandwich will be fine," Ezra said.  "I have missed Mrs. Potter's fresh bread."

JD smiled as he handed over the paper-wrapped lunch.  He gripped Ezra's arm after he gave up the package, seeming happy just to have contact with him.  Buck handed the kid one of the drumsticks in his bag.

"Coffee's gonna be ready in a bit," Vin said as he checked the kettle.

"Keep going, Ezra," Larabee said, "You got in with Harrington."

Ezra nodded.  "Harrington had been busy in his old stomping grounds, robbin' several businesses since he arrived in that place.  He ran a tight ship and kept his crew in line.  I did my best to fall in place and mind my manners.  Crossing Harrington was not advised."

"You get into any trouble with him?" Josiah asked.

"I stayed clear of him for the most part," Ezra stated.  "I believe he hardly knew I was there.  I dealt mostly with his lieutenants and did as I was told."

"That would be interesting," Chris said with a smirk.

Ezra raised his eyebrows at the remark, but kept talking.  "Their last robbery was at a bank and for a substantial amount.  The take was yet to be divided, so the participants were gathered to split it amongst themselves.  I was given the position of 'lookout' since I hadn't participated in the heist, and thus wasn't expecting to receive anything from the pot."

He unwrapped the sandwich as he said, "So I let the police department know of the gathering ahead of time, and I was in place, and able to signal Carr unobserved by Harrington's crew.  Shortly after that, the bullets started flying.  In the end, Harrington and all of his men were dead and I had been winged."

"It was a pretty bad hit, Ezra," Nathan said.  "I'm surprised the bone wasn't broken."

"Lucky, I suppose," Ezra said, moving his right arm.  "It certainly hurt like hell when it happened.  And it took some time to get full movement back.  I believe all is back to working order now."

"Did they get the man who shot you?" Buck asked.

"No, not at all," Standish said.  "I believe it was Carr's sniper that got me.  Perhaps it was an accident."

"Like hell," Vin muttered.

"And you fell," Josiah said, his voice deep with anger.

"Yes," Ezra admitted.  "I'd been atop a pile of wooden crates to afford an excellent vantage point, and the shot surprised me, to say the least.  I ended up wedged in-between those crates and entirely immobilized."

"You should learn to fall better," Buck told him.

Ezra nodded.  "I must have hit my head because by the time I came to my senses, it was over.  There were still a few shots being fired.  Slow and measured.  I heard Johnny pleading that he was surrendering, and then another shot."

"Johnny?" JD repeated the name.

"Johnny McHale, Harrington's protégé.  He was just a kid."  Ezra paused, looking up to the others.  "He had no part in the robberies, and was just there to help out.  He was a clever lad with a good heart."  He frowned, remembering.  "Then Carr was calling his men together.  I distinctly remember hearing him shout my name.  I responded as best I could, but…"  Again, that small shrug.  "I wasn't doing very well at that point.  And I believe I passed out."

The others were silent again for a moment.

"They didn't come back to look for you until the next day?" Larabee finally asked.

Ezra's head shot up and he gave them a quizzical look.  He then said, "I was trapped.  It took all night to work my way out.  I was rather addled, but I managed to find help." 

"Carr didn't send anyone?" Josiah asked, keeping his voice even.

"I sent word once I'd reached the hospital.   I made sure he was informed," Ezra said. 

"How long did they have you in the hospital?" Nathan asked.

"The first night," Ezra told them.  "One of Carr's men came though, Bill Swan.  He asked me what I knew about the incident at the warehouse.  I claimed ignorance, sayin' that I was insensible throughout.  It seemed to satisfy him, and he left.  The hospital staff declared me well enough by morning.  The wound wasn't troubling to them.  I went back to the hotel because Travis had paid for the room, and I knew it would still be available."

"And the wound started to go bad," Nathan persisted, gesturing to the scar.  "It got infected, didn't it?  Did you have a fever?"

"I was able to manage."  Ezra sighed.  "I went back to the hospital when it was evident it needed further attention."

"You said you'd hit your head, too," Jackson persisted.

Ezra nodded, touching his head in the memory.  "It didn't help matters," he said softly.  "Perhaps it's why it took me so long to realize that things weren't quite right."

"A lot of things weren't right," Vin muttered as he poked at the fire.

"You were sick, weren't you?" Nathan said.  "Sicker than you let us know."

Ezra shrugged. "I know you were far too overwhelmed back home, and if I were to say too much, you probably would have packed your bags and come after me."  Ezra looked sad as he said, "And I would've been better by the time you arrived so it would have been for nothing."

"I would've come, Ezra," Nathan said sincerely.

"Which is why I couldn't tell you," Ezra returned.  "I was well aware of the situation in Four Corners and it would make no sense to send you on such a pointless errand."  He took a breath and continued, "It became apparent that the money from the heist was missing.  And as I was the only gang member who survived.  I was the obvious suspect."

Chris frowned.  "Carr had to know it wasn't you."

"I am a criminal after all," Ezra stated.  "I have been known to abscond with large amounts of money, given the chance."

"But the money was at the warehouse, wasn't it?" Chris went on.  "They had to have found it."

"Yes, exactly," Ezra said.

"Carr took it," Vin said.

Ezra nodded.

"You know this for certain?"  Josiah asked.

"I do," Ezra said.

"Did you find any proof?"  Larabee asked.

"All the proof," Ezra responded.

Chris shook his head.  "You took the money from Carr?"

Ezra nodded, smiling.  "Carr may have a position of power, but he's dumber than a sack of hammers when it comes to hiding his secrets.  I needed to change my name and move out of sight.  It took some time, and many false starts, but I was able to track down his mistress, Molly Pierce, and then it took only a little snooping to uncover her favorite hiding place."

"How'd you manage that, Ezra?" JD asked, his eyes lit with excitement at the tale.

"There are some things that you probably shouldn't know," Ezra replied.  "The young lady must love him dearly, because all of the money was there.  I took it, moved it, hiding my trail as I went.  Of course, I took enough cash to cover my train ticket home and to cover other expenses.  Sadly, it ran out quicker than expected.  I should have taken more, but I didn't want to put that poor loyal girl into any more difficulties with her true love."  He shook his head.  "I hope she didn't suffer for it.  And his wife is a lovely woman as well.  It's a pity that both of them have hung their stars on such a clod."

"Where'd you put all that stolen money?" Larabee asked.

Ezra grinned again.  "Back in the bank that it came from.  A bag, left inconspicuously near the tellers was quickly found.  It was in all the papers."

"And you faked your death."  Buck said.

"Well yes, once the money disappeared and was miraculously found, I knew that I would be the prime suspect.  I had to lure Carr and his fine officers to the manufacturing district.  It only took one taunting letter.  I let them chase me toward a previously positioned mannequin.  I climbed onto the catwalk, placed my jacket on the thing and rolled it off into a vat of lye when they started firing at me. I escaped, changed my name again, moved to a new residence, dyed my hair black, and put together this amazing ensemble."  He pulled at the collar of his dull-colored jacket and then touched the brim of the odd hat.  "Then I started my way for home, leavin' from a station some distance from Cincinnati.  I took short hops at first to avoid suspicion.  A long distance ticket might have drawn attention."

They all stared at him.

"Now, if I could eat my lunch.  I am rather hungry, and as you all have noticed, I haven't been eating well."

"That's it?" Chris asked.

"Mostly," Ezra said, picking up the sandwich again.  He took a bite, chewing carefully before he smiled at JD, raising the sandwich as he said, "Delicious."

"You have any proof that we can use, showing that Carr took the money?" Larabee asked.

"That he took the money?  No.  But this might help."  Ezra pulled an envelope from his pocket.  "Obtained while I was working for Harrington.  Johnny was very enthusiastic and wanting to help in any way he could.  He had become Harrington's secretary, I suppose, and was in charge of menial tasks." 

"What's it say?" Buck asked, putting out one hand.  Ezra handed the envelope to him, Chris snatched it from him before any greasy fingers could get at the letter inside.

"It's from Carr to Harrington," Ezra said.  "The letter was supposed to be destroyed after Harrington read it, but the day was hot and Johnny was worried about starting a fire in the stove.  I told him that I would take it to the alley and burn it in a barrel."   Standish smiled sadly.  "He was a good kid and didn't deserve what befell him.  He simply ended up with the wrong people.  I had hoped I would be able to send him on a different path when all of this was through, but…"  He raised and lowered his hands.  "I was perhaps the wrong person to attempt such a thing, and Carr was the wrong person to be at that arrest."

"This proves that Carr was working with Harrington?" Chris said, lifting the letter.

Ezra nodded.  "It should.  Carr was supposed to get a cut of the take from the bank, but I don't believe Harrington meant to give him any of it.  Carr wasn't included in the meeting to divide the money, until I let him know it was about to happen."

Chris held the envelope and moved stand near Vin, mad as hell.  He could see the anger in Vin as well as the tracker pulled the kettle from the flames. 

"Coffee's ready, Ez," Tanner said congenially.  "I don't think we have any milk though."

"A pity," Ezra responded, and took another bite of the sandwich. 

Vin poured two mugs, and added half the sugar bag to one of them, then walked to the rock that Buck and Ezra were sharing.  He worked a space for himself on one end of the boulder, shoving Ezra into Buck, so that the three of them were sitting hip-to-hip on the stone that wasn't big enough.  He handed Ezra the black coffee, while he started sipping on the unstirred sugared cup.

For a minute, they were silent.  Chris watched as Ezra slowly ate the sandwich and sipped at the coffee. 

How the hell did he get so thin?  Larabee knew Ezra would drink if he was in low spirits, but that was only when he was in the safety of town.  When he was away, he had the habit of going off his feed. 

Ezra sat, squished between Vin and Buck.  The position didn't look terribly comfortable, but Ezra seemed content. 

"Why didn't you ask for help," Chris asked pointedly.

"There was no need," Ezra said.  "I had things in hand."

"Sound more like things were out of hand," Buck stated.

The gambler sighed tiredly. "If I had sent such a plea, you all would have been up in arms and alarmed, determined to come to Ohio to save me, even though you had far too much work already here.  It would have been ridiculous, and a terrible waste of money.  The cost of the telegrams was alarming enough. And once I was on the run, your presence would have just caused trouble.  It's hard to be covert when you're with a posse."

"You should've let us know that things were getting so bad," Chris said.

"I was perfectly fine looking after myself," Ezra declared.

"Yeah, it looks like it," Vin responded, bumping against Ezra.  "You look half-starved."

"I'm used to working alone," Ezra went on.  "This is nothing."

"All those bullshit telegrams, Ezra…" Chris started, and then grimaced in frustration.  "When I ask you a goddamn question, Ezra, I expect an answer.  And I won't stand for you lying to me."

"I answered," Ezra responded.

The others all made various sounds of annoyance.

"They were answers," Ezra said.

"They weren't very helpful," Buck groused.

"I was low on funds and every word adds to the cost when using the wire service.  And I never lied," Ezra added.

"You said you were fine," Nathan pointed out.

"And I was," Ezra said.  "As is proved by the fact that I am here now."

"We could've done something," Chris stated. "If you'd just come straight with us, we could have helped."

Ezra just looked sad. "No, Chris, you couldn't.  Cincinnati is nothing like Four Corners.  I was a small fish in a big sea, struggling against the surge of it.  I did the best I could and escaped with my life.  I suppose that's good enough.  There was no need to draw any more of you into those depths.  Then we would've all been sunk."

"Let him eat, Chris," Nathan admonished.  The look he gave Larabee said that they'd talk about this later.

Ezra chewed another bite, and then said, "We shouldn't linger for too long.  I would like to continue home at the first opportunity."

"We're getting there soon," Nathan assured.  Near the fire, Nathan, Josiah, JD and Chris exchanged the same unhappy looks.

Yeah, Chris thought, someone was going to pay for this.

PART 3:

It was growing late by the time they arrived in Four Corners.  Ezra was exhausted.  The streets were empty, so it was easy to get Ezra to his room without coming in to contact with any of the townspeople.  Nathan had instructed him to keep to himself, to stay away from anyone who might still be carrying the fever, but Ezra looked disappointed.

"Nate," Chris said, once Ezra had been installed in his room.  "How's he doing?"

Nathan sighed.  "He's fine, I think.  Mostly, he's just tired out.  That wound got bad though before it healed properly."

"He wasn't treating it right."

"He did the best he could," Nathan bit back. "But he had a concussion and no one to look out for him.  Once it got infected and he had a fever, he probably couldn't do much on his own."

Chris grimaced.  "Where's Travis?" he asked.

"He should be here tomorrow," JD said.

Chris nodded.

"What are we going to do about this?" Buck asked.

What could they do at this point?  Harrington was dead, the bank money was returned, and Ezra was home. 

Chris looked at the envelope Ezra had provided.  He'd read the correspondence. Although the language was veiled, it was obvious that the two men were working together.  Carr was letting Harrington know that he was expecting something and if that item wasn't delivered, Harrington would be facing trouble.  Carr had just enough sense to keep from signing the note, but Ezra had another note in Carr's handwriting.  This note was addressed to Standish, dated after the shooting in the warehouse and was rather blunt in the way it blamed Ezra for getting in the way of the gunfight.  The handwriting matched the letter perfectly.

Chris would have to gauge Travis, see where they stood with him, and find out if they could trust him with the information.  After what had happened with Ezra, Chris would be damn sure before he gave up anything.

"He was lucky to get out of there alive," Josiah said quietly.  "If he hadn't been hidden in those crates…"

"He would've been as dead as the rest of Harrington's gang," Vin completed.  "And once he got himself out and checked into the hospital, they couldn't just kill him then.  So they pinned the theft on him, and would've killed him for that if he hadn't started sneaking around."

Chris scowled, wanting to get to Cincinnati and kick the hell out of someone. 

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

Travis stepped down from the stage with a slow tread.  His expression was somber and his eyes sought out what remained of the Seven.  The moment Larabee spotted him, the gunman gestured, pointing to the jail but not moving from his place before it.

Nodding, Travis made his way to Larabee.  "Chris," he said quietly.  "I am very sorry about the news.  I wish things had been different.  I can only tell you that we sent Standish with the best intentions."

Larabee silently held the door to the jail open.  Travis paused, met Larabee's gaze, and then went in.

The other five were there, each perched on a different piece of real estate in the jailhouse.  Chris moved until he stood on the other side of the desk, leaving the chair for Travis.

The judge nodded to each of them, and took the offered seat.  "Gentlemen," he said quietly.  "I'm sorry that we must meet under these conditions."

"What the hell happened?" Chris asked sharply, breaking his silence.  "I let you send Ezra out, and then you leave him hanging?"

Travis looked unhappy.  "I've been trying to deal with Captain Carr though all of this.  And after Standish was out of communication, Carr was the only source of information.  Unfortunately, it was difficult to explain everything about Standish."

"He was sent with your good word and promise of safety," Larabee accused. 

Travis sighed.  "I did what I could, but I believe his criminal record was a stumbling point for the officers."

"How did they find out about it?" Vin asked.

Travis fixed his gaze on the tracker.  "I told them."  He leaned back when the men shifted menacingly around him.  "I couldn't keep that information from the police agency.  I was sending someone to them with my recommendation.  Unfortunately, Standish proved the point when he left the warehouse with the money."

"He wasn't the one who took it!" JD said quickly.  "He didn't!"

Buck shot him a quick look to keep him quiet, while Travis said, "Someone absconded with it, and he was the most likely suspect.  Then, it was left at the bank.  The description didn't fit what I remember about Standish, but…" and he trailed off.  "Standish had a change of conscience.  It's unfortunate that he didn't turn himself in at the time, because his continued insistence on evading the law is what— what led to his demise."

"Tell me," Larabee said, leaning over the desk, his expression dark.  "Tell me how that happened."

"Carr was trying to bring him in.  Standish had already returned the money, so there was a good chance that the sentence would not be so severe, but Standish insisted on evading him."  He moved his gaze from one man to another.  "It was a terrible tragedy.  I'm sorry.  I truly am."

"What happened to him," Larabee tried again. 

Travis sighed.  "Through investigation, Carr was able to determine that Standish had been hiding in the manufacturing district.  Carr and a few of his men went there.  They were able to track down Standish.  They gave chase."  Travis paused again.  "Standish tried to evade them by climbing over one of the holding tanks.  Carr begged him to come down, to give himself up.  He told Standish that the law would be lenient.  Unfortunately…" Travis took a breath. "Standish refused.  He tried to escape, but fell and his body was not recoverable.  I'm sorry."  He looked to each of them.  "If he had only given himself up…"

Larabee tightened his hands into fists. "Do you believe that story?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Travis said nothing immediately.  "It's the report I was given."

"Do you believe it," Chris repeated.  "All of it?"

"No," Travis admitted.  "Not all of it.  I had a low opinion of Standish at the start, but this doesn't sound like the man I've come to know.  He'd sent me messages earlier, about the stipend I'd set up for him.  I wasn't sure what to make of it.  I assumed that Carr was paying him what I sent and that Standish was just trying to get more money.  I told him as much."

"You wouldn't believe him?" JD asked.

"I thought I could trust Carr," Travis responded.  "And Standish is always trying to wheedle more money out of me."

"You wouldn't believe Ezra?" JD persisted.

Travis faced Dunne, and said, "I should have."  He turned to Larabee adding, "I should have realized that something was wrong, especially after they took down Harrington with no survivors."  He changed his gaze, taking in each of the others.  "Nine men dead and none of the police officers were injured?  It's something to consider."

"Except for Ezra," Josiah said.  "He was injured.  He was working for the police.  He was trapped and shot, and they left him behind."

"They couldn't find him," Travis said softly.  "They said that he'd escaped with the money.  I understand that the injury was minor and he was able to free himself."

"Can you trust Carr after he'd left one of his own people behind?" Chris exclaimed.   "Ezra never was one of his men though, was he?"

Travis looked remorseful.  "I tried reaching Standish after that incident, but he had moved on.  I'm sorry that your friend is gone.  I truly am.  I liked him.  As for Carr, most of what he's said is suspicious."  He shook his head.  "I just wish I could hear Ezra's side of the story.  He was stingy in what he gave up to me during that time.  If I knew the truth, I could take care of this."  Travis said.  "I have my suspicions that Carr is dirty, but I don't have the proof I need."

"And what would you do if I could provide you with Ezra's story?" Larabee said.  "What assurance can you provide me with?"

Travis looked confused.  "Concerning."

"We need your word that you'll keep most of this quiet.  Use what you can, and keep the rest to yourself.  We need to trust you."

For a moment, Travis said nothing, then finally spoke.  "You don't trust me now?"

Larabee replied, "Did you trust Ezra?"

The judge sighed  "It all went to hell, didn't it?  I wish I could go back and change things.  He knew something was wrong, and I should have listened to him."  Travis cleared his throat, and said, "You have my word."

Chris exchanged glances with his men, and blew out a low breath.  "Okay then," he said.  "If you want hear Ezra story, we can make that happen."

Josiah, standing with his back against one of the cell doors, stepped forward pulling the door open behind him.

From the dimness of the cell, a man stepped forward.  He was thin, with overgrown black hair and stubble on his cheeks, but Travis recognized him the moment he moved into the light.

"Pardon me," Ezra said, looking to the others.  "But I'm not sure whether my ears deceived me or not.  Did the Honorable Judge Orin Travis say that he 'liked' me?"

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

Ezra went over the facts again with Judge Travis once Chris had dispatched the others from the room.   The story remained mostly the same, with more details regarding his interactions with Carr and his men.  Chris could feel is ire rising as Ezra continued to add more information.

By the time he was done, Travis had a list of names and further details about Ezra's time in Cincinnati.

"Teddy Myers," Ezra said.  "He's Carr's muscle.  Not a very smart man, but he's intimidating enough that no one points out his failings.   I've seen what happens to those who cross him.  The lucky ones are merely hospitalized.  Kirk Schmidt is Carr's sniper.    He has a deadly aim, nearly as formidable as our Mr. Tanner, but with far fewer scruples.  He carries multiple weapons.  Carl Stevenson, also well-armed, is nearly as slick as me, but nowhere near as handsome.  Bill Swann is Carr's right hand man, always at his side and willin' to do almost anything for him.  All of them were involved in this."

Ezra ended the meeting suddenly, checking his watch and declaring he had an appointment with his barber that he would not miss.  "I was pulled from my bed far too early in the mornin' and hadn't the chance to see to my grooming."

He smoothed his jacket, a rich brown one that he hadn't worn since the last time he was ill.  "And I must see a tailor as well," he said with a sigh.  At least he wore his black low-crown Stetson again, and the familiar gunbelt was at his waist.  Things were getting back to normal.

"May I be dismissed?" Ezra asked.

Travis let him go.  Ezra turned to Larabee next, and received a nod.  With that, Standish turned and opened the jailhouse door.

A cheerful greeting met Ezra from JD and Buck.  They stood and were determined to accompany him to the barber.  Ezra didn't deny them.  The three sauntered down the street in the direction of the shop.

Chris waited until the trio was on their way before he asked Travis, "What are you going to do about this?"

Travis looked to the notes he'd taken during Ezra's discourse.  "Chris," he said.  "There's little that I can do unless Standish wants to appear in the land of the living again."

"What if he wrote out all of it in a letter, dating it before he threw that dummy into the vat?"

Travis gave him a long look.  "I can't accept it."

"Can you take the facts he's given you and begin your own investigation?  Leave him out of it?"

Travis sighed.  "You know you're opening me up to trouble if anyone starts asking questions regarding where the information originated.  It would be better if he came out and made an official statement.  He can't keep up the ruse that he's dead."

Chris shrugged.  "I have a feeling he can change names pretty easily.  Honestly, I have no idea if 'Standish' is his real name or not, but I've gotten used to it.  Don't care much for Stutz or the others he used recently."  Larabee nodded to the letter Ezra had obtained.  "What about that?" he asked. "It shows that Carr was working with Harrington."

Travis gazed at the envelope.   "And how will I say it came into my hands?" he asked.

"I gave it to you," Larabee said.  "It's the truth.  I'm the one who handed it over.  I can say Ezra had it sent to me.  Also the truth because he handed it to Buck first."  He was getting as tricky as Ezra.

Travis seemed to be mulling it over.  "I'll do what I can," he said.  "It's going to be difficult if I can't use Ezra's testimony, but I have the letters and the one he sent me.  That will allow me to start the investigation into Carr and his men."

"What about the money?" Chris asked.

"The bank recovered most of it," Travis said.  "Enough to satisfy them."

"No," Chris paused. "The money you promised Ezra. He was supposed to get paid while he was there and it was cut off from the start."

Travis closed his eyes moment before saying, "The agreement was for a few days of work.  The money was paid out to his name, far more than what was originally agreed upon.  My records show that he received everything that was due to him before he left Carr.   I wish I had proof that Carr intercepted it, but I have nothing of the sort.   After that, the money had to be cut off because he breached our agreement by leaving Carr's service.  Since he wants to remain dead, I cannot administer any further payments to him.  I cannot legally pay a corpse.  And he ran up quite a bill at the hotel."

"The money was part of the deal," Chris said, his voice low.

"I'll see what I can do," Travis said.

"That's pretty much the only answer you've given me.  Ezra tracked down Harrington, infiltrated his gang, and served him up.  He fulfilled his end of your deal.  In return, he was shot, abandoned, betrayed and left to run for his life without any help, had to stage his own death before he felt safe enough to come home.  He caught Harrington.  You'd better get Carr or I will!"

Travis gazed back at Larabee, his expression steely.  "You'd best stay out of this, Mr. Larabee.  I'll do everything I can to bring down Carr, Mr. Larabee.  You can count on that.  I don't like any of this any more than you do.  I sent Standish there merely to identify Harrington.  I never asked him to put himself into such a dangerous situation."

Chris shook his head.  "It's what he does."  Larabee hated to remember how many times Ezra waded into the middle of something that no sane man would have tempted.  "He was trying to do the right thing because nobody else seemed to give a damn!  Get this fixed."

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

Ezra returned to the jailhouse later in the day, following a trip to the barber and the bathhouse.  The mahogany brown jacket was still too big for him, but clean-shaven and with his hair returned to its normal length, he looked more familiar.

Nathan and Josiah came in with him.  They spoke happily of the lunch they'd just enjoyed at the restaurant, lingering on the description of the peach pie that they'd divided amongst themselves and consumed entirely.

Finally, the discourse petering out, Ezra paused and pulled his hat off his head.  He ran a hand through his hair as he delayed.   The hair color was lighter, closer to its normal hue.  The barber must have had something that could strip out the dye, but once Ezra had disarranged his hair, it stood out stiffly, looking crisp and dry.

Self-consciously, he lowered his head and held his hat.  "Mr. Larabee, might I ask for an advance on my pay?"  He kept his head down, not meeting anyone's eyes.  "I'm afraid I finished off my bankroll and had nothing to spare to pay the barber and the bathhouse.  I should never default on paying either because I depend on both so much.  Luckily, our meals are covered, otherwise I'd be needin' more to pay for lunch.  And I must stop at Potter's store.  Peppermints were promised to Chaucer, and he will remember.  If you would kindly allow me the advance, I would be grateful.  I'm good for it."

By the time he'd finished speaking, Chris had opened the little safe in the jail.  He picked up the stack of bills that had been building up since the day Ezra left, and grabbed up what remained in the other small stack.  "Here's your back pay," Chris said.

"Oh," Ezra said, taking the bills.  "I thought you all might be splitin' the money six ways in my absence as you all were shouldering the work."  He glanced to the others, and then fluttered the bills.  He looked curious. "It seems a bit heavy."

"I included the petty cash," Chris said.  "To help cover some of your expenses."

Ezra smiled at that, not arguing.  Carefully, he pulled off some of the bills and secured them in a jacket pocket.  The rest were folded tightly and slid into his boot.  "Now," he said.  "Off to take care of some outstanding bills and find my tailor."  He touched the brim of his hat as he left the room.

Chris moved to the window to watch him go. He seemed to have a lighter step now, some of his pep returning.  As Ezra passed Vin's wagon, Standish stopped and the tracker leaned out.  They chatted.

"We let him go into a pit of vipers," Josiah said quietly. 

"There was no way of knowing what was going to happen," Nathan responded, trying to sound reasonable.  "It shouldn't have been that way.  He should've been able to trust those people."

Vin swung down from his wagon, said a few words to Ezra.  The gambler responded, then Vin reached inside for something.

"He's so slow to trust anyone," Josiah said.  "What was going through his head when he was trapped and hurt and alone in that warehouse?  He's so wary of being abandoned."

Vin came out of his wagon with two apples.  He handed one to Ezra, who buffed it against his jacket.

"And did you see how happy he was to get that money?" Nathan added.  There was no accusation in his statement.  "He's always anxious when he's low on funds.  Can't be content unless he knows he has a cushion.  It's how he finds security, I think."

"That's Maude's doing," Josiah said.  "The abandonment thing, too."

Chris watched the tracker and the gambler as they continued down the boardwalk together with their apples.

"We'll get this fixed," Chris said. 

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

A few days later, a message came from Travis' latest location, saying that the investigation had started.  The information Ezra had provided was enough to open a whole can of worms.  The inquiry accused Carr, along with four other men from Ezra's list: Officers Carl Stevenson, Bill Swan, Teddy Myers and Kirk Schmidt.

It started with the Harrington case, and it snowballed from there.  The more the investigators looked, the more they found.  Carr and his men were dirty through-and-through.   Another few days passed, and the next message from Travis announced that the men had been arrested.

So the Seven celebrated in the saloon, enjoying the afternoon and the good news from Judge Travis.   It was a cheerful celebration, but a tension remained.  Arrests did not mean a guilty verdict. There was still the trial and the sentencing.   There was still no telling how this would turn out.  Chris let Travis know that he'd travel to Cincinnati for the trial and that he'd offer any assistance he could.  He was ready to take down those sons of bitches.

He wanted a piece of them.

The officers were, as one might expect, mad as hell, and claiming that they'd been framed.

The Seven were lifting a glass to the arrest, when Mary Travis pushed open the batwing doors, carrying a few copies of the Clarion.  She smiled at Chris, going to him immediately.  "You hadn't been by to pick up your subscription," she teased as she set one of the papers in front of him.

Chris nodded, and muttered a thank you as he unfolded the paper.  He was on his feet before she made her way around the table to Ezra.  "When did you print this?" he snapped.

Mary froze, and looked toward him with startled eyes.  "Mr. Larabee, I…"

"When?"

"Four days ago," she said.  "Since you hadn't been by, I figured you'd like to see the story I'd written.  I would have brought it sooner, but things have been rather busy.  I've been investigating a very interesting story about a man who said he saw a chupacabra on his property.  I believe it was just a coyote with mange though. His story is a riveting one though.  It will be my top story in the next edition." 

And she set the paper in front of Ezra with a flourish and a smile.  "I'm sorry it took so long to get this to you," she said kindly.

Ezra's expression fell when he saw the headline.  Slowly, he pushed himself back from the table, saying, "I really must be going."

Buck grabbed the paper and swore.

"What is it?" Mary asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Ezra," Chris said, trying to placate.  "They got the men locked up.  You got nothing to worry about."

Mary's brow furrowed as she looked at the headline she'd printed.  "EZRA STANDISH IS BACK!"    It was the biggest news all week, and she was certain that her subscribers would want to know that their missing regulator had returned.  She'd seen people coming up to Ezra over the past few days and Ezra had seemed pleased as punch at the attention.

Josiah looked at the paper next.  "Those men won't see it, Ezra," he stated.  "No one will see this.  It's just the Clarion."

"Now, wait a minute…" Mary tried to put in.

Ezra stood slowly, his eyes on the masthead.  "The Clarion was arriving regularly at their office so that they could learn more about me, I suspect.  They used the stories to… mock me." 

"Mock you?" Mary said, looking at one of the papers in her hands.  "Why would they use the Clarion to do that?  There are plenty of interesting stories.  Look, the Finnegan's sheep had triplets.  Lizzy is making fancy hats for her shop.  And… ah… Yosemite has horse for sale."  She frowned.  "Next week will be better."

"There's no reason for them to keep getting it," Buck added.  "You're gone, so why would they want it still?  They got the guys locked up that were causing trouble."

"Ezra, I was sending it," Mary said, looking lost.  "It was your copy.  I thought you'd enjoy receiving news from home.  And then, I thought… I thought the people you worked with would be happy to know you made it home safely."

"Those men want his blood," Chris said closed his eyes and shook his head.  "They thought Ezra was already dead.  We were trying to keep it quiet."

Mary looked aghast.  "I didn't know," she said, and shot an accusing look at Chris.  "I didn't know!  You wouldn't tell me anything!"

It wasn't her fault.  They hadn't wanted to spread the lie around, knowing that it would only lead to questions which always lead to trouble, but Chris realized that they should have brought the reporter in on the story.   He swore to himself, knowing the size of the error.

"Ezra," Mary said, "I didn't know!"

Vin said nothing, he just watched Ezra.  Nathan was watching, too. 

"Ezra?" the healer said as he stood.

 Ezra was nodding where he stood, looking devastated.  

Buck said, "I'm sure everything is gonna be fine.  They got those bastards locked up.  No one will bother you."

Just then, the batwing doors parted again, and one of the telegraph operator's children burst in.  He went to Chris and handed him the note, leaving before anyone could say a word.

Everyone looked to Chris as he unfolded it. 

"Fuck," Larabee muttered.   He sat back down in his chair and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

"What's it say?" Buck asked.

"Carr and his men escaped," Larabee muttered.  "Looks like they just walked right out of their cells.  Not a man saw them go."

"It doesn't mean they'll come here," JD said.  "Ezra, why would they?  They're on the run from the law now."

Ezra said softy, "Because I took their money and they know it.  And now they know I'm alive … and they must realize that I'm the one that turned them in."  He stared to turn, but his feet tangled and he went down.

Vin was halfway there and grabbed Ezra before he hit the ground.  "Nate!" he shouted, but Nathan was already with him.  "Nate, He's burnin' up."

Nathan shook his head as he felt Ezra's forehead.  "Dammit!  Dammit!" he muttered.  "He's been so pale I didn't see it coming.   He's got the fever."

Ezra looked up at them.  "I have to go," he said quietly.  "Please, you understand."

"You ain't goin' nowhere, Hoss," Buck said as he moved closer. "'Cept maybe Nathan's clinic."

Josiah stepped in, and helped Ezra to his feet.  Ezra wobbled unsteadily.  "I got you," Josiah said softly.

Buck came around his other side and the two hurried Ezra to the clinic.

Nathan paused to talk to Chris before he followed.  "He'll be okay," the healer said hopefully.  "He's just pretty knocked down already.  It'll probably take him a while to pull out of this."

Chris sighed.  "I guess it was just a matter of time before he caught it."  He glanced between the telegram and the headlines.  "What are the chances?" he asked.

The others didn't respond.  Nathan just grimaced and followed the others.  JD looked anxiously after them.  Vin picked up Ezra's hat from where it had rolled onto the ground.  Mary fretted at her newspapers, looking miserably at the headline.

"Hell," Chris muttered.

PART 4

By the time Chris reached the clinic, Ezra was in his nightshirt and in bed, and tied by the right ankle to the foot of the bed.  Nathan and Josiah were both arguing with him.

Ezra glared at Chris as he came in.  "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, pointing to the rope. 

"Ezra, you've been trying to leave since you heard the news," Nathan said.  "And I'm afraid of what you'll do when the fever really hits you."

"Mr. Larabee," Ezra stated.  "You must realize that this is ill advised.  The longer I remain, the greater danger I become to the entire town.  They will come looking for me, I have no doubt."

"You're sick, Ezra," Larabee said.

"I already have a plan ready for action," Ezra said defiantly.  "I only need get on a horse and head to Ridge City to start it."  He looked to Nathan.  "I can ride."

"You may be able to now," Nathan said as he came by the bed to lay a hand on Ezra's forehead.  "But this thing is just starting.  It's gonna get worse, and you won't be good for anything for a few days. You couldn't even stand on your own a couple minutes ago."

Ezra winced at that statement.  "It's only because I tripped.  I must go now.  While I still can.  I can untie this you know.  I'm not hopeless with knots."

Josiah smiled.  "We know, but it should slow you down.  Think of it as a reminder."

Nathan added in a soft voice, "You're not yourself when you're sick, Ezra.  You get an idea in your head and there's no stopping you.  I don't want to be chasing down your skinny self when you're half-crazy with fever."

Chris took the chair next to Ezra's bed.  "So, what will happen if you go?"

Ezra crossed his arms over his chest.  "I'll be able to keep them from the rest of you."

"How do you figure that?"

"They'll follow me.  I can leave a trail."

"For those greenhorns?  They won't know the first thing about following a trail out here, Ezra."

"I'll make it hard to miss. I'll send telegrams to bring them to me."

Josiah said, "Chances are they won't get any messages along the way."

Ezra frowned, and looked toward the door.  He was breathing hard and Chris could see the bright spots of fever on his pale face.  "I'll find a way," Ezra stated.  "They won't come to Four Corners.  I'll stop them one way or another."

"Why would you want to do that?" Chris asked.

Ezra finally looked toward Chris with a curious expression.

"I want them to come, Ezra," Chris said. "Let them come.  They'll be the ones that are outnumbered this time.  They'll be out of their element and friendless in unforgiving territory.  I want to see how quickly they sink.  I want a crack at them."

Beside him, Josiah pulled his Schofield from its holster.  "I'd like a shot, too," the preacher said quietly.

And when he looked to Nathan, Ezra found a feral smile.  "I'm ready for them," Nathan said.  "Let them try to cause any more trouble."

7.7.7.7.7.7

With the night, Ezra's fever worsened.  Following his talk with Chris, Ezra had promised he would remain at Nathan's clinic, but once the fever took hold of him, Nathan had to tie down his left arm in an attempt to keep him pinned.  He just kept trying to leave, to get out of the bed and go.

Everyone cycled through the clinic to allow each of them some rest.  It was a full time job to keep Ezra calm.  There was no rest for Ezra though.  When he wasn't trying to throw himself from the bed and take to the road, he was muttering and tossing.

For a time, he seemed to be trapped in-between those crates again, calling for help that he knew wasn't coming, trying to free himself, and panicking when he couldn't move.

"It's for your own good," Chris said sternly, as Ezra mindlessly tried to get free.  "Ezra, knock it off.  We can't let you get up."

"I can't get out," Ezra would mutter constantly.  "Where'd they go?  Why didn't they come back?" He would look at Larabee beseechingly.  "Why did they leave me?"

Chris would try to tell him that it was for the best, that getting trapped and left among those crates saved his life.  But Ezra would just look at him in bewilderment, and he kept wanting to know where everyone had gone.

How long had he been trapped?  Hurt and alone, meandering in and out of consciousness?  And then having to wander the streets, looking for help?

Other times, Ezra seemed to be in that hotel room, pulling his right arm to himself as if it still pained him, muttering about how upset Nathan would be.  He kept looking toward the door as if he hoped someone would come in, but he didn't seem to see any of them around him.

"Ezra," Nathan told him calmly.  "I ain't angry with you.  Not at you.  You ain't in that place anymore, you hear me?  You don't have to worry."

"I tried," Ezra would say.  "I don't know what I did wrong." And then he would gaze at his healed arm as if he was still suffering from the infection.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Nathan tried to assure him.  Nothing wrong, except go into that situation alone with no back up, with no one to trust.   It was supposed to be easy.  Jackson hoped that the hotel staff had been kind to him.

"Why do you always get hurt when you're trying to do the right thing?" Nathan asked him quietly, when Ezra seemed more cognizant.

"Not in my nature, I suppose," Ezra said, blinking at the ceiling.   "Shouldn't go against the grain.  I'm much better at bein' bad.  Just gettin' punished for oversteppin' my bounds."

"No," Nathan said, as he daubed his face with a cool cloth.  "That ain't it at all.  You're a good man, Ezra.  Some day you'll accept that fact."

"Not good for my health," Ezra murmured.   "Better off alone.  Keeps me from tryin' to be decent."

He was too hot, and getting worse.  "You need someone to watch out for you," Nathan told him. "You're too reckless on your own.  You need folks around you to remind you that you got a reason to stick around."

And Ezra just looked at him in confusion.

The night ended and a new day began.  Ezra seemed to be on the run, trying to find someplace to hide.

"Where are you, Ezra?"  Buck asked him when Ezra stilled, looking about the room fearfully.

"Safe for now," Ezra would whisper, but he looked haunted as his eyes darted.  He hunched his shoulders and shuddered as if cold.

"Where the hell did you have to hide, Ezra?" Buck asked him quietly.

"Got a roof over my head," Ezra said, giving Buck a small smile.  "That's enough for now, right?"

"Where is this place?"

Ezra wouldn't say, shivering in spite of the fever that held him.  "They won't look for me here."

He moved fitfully, burning with fever and unable to find restful sleep, or to wake up completely. 

JD tried to distract him with jokes and stories, trying to occupy Ezra's mind with something besides what was chasing after him in his mind.  Ezra would fix him with a determined look, as if listening to the kid's recitations took all of his concentration.

It seemed to help, and JD did his best to sound cheerful as he spoke.

The day wore into another night.  Nathan wasn't happy.  Most folks had made their way through the fever within 24-hours.  Leave it to Ezra to linger in it.

"He wasn't well to begin with," Nathan said glumly. 

Josiah tried reading, but Ezra kept cutting him off.

"I need to head home," Ezra said.  "I need to go."

"You are home, Ezra."

"Just want to go.  I can't though.  Not yet."

"Why not, son?"

"I'm not done yet.  I know where the money is.  I just have to retrieve it.  And get it back to the bank.  And get them off my trail."  He looked morose as he thought about how much work was in front of him.

"You did it, Ezra," Josiah tried to assure him.  "You managed it all.  You're back with us now."

Ezra would mumble, "I just want to go home."

"You're home, son," Josiah kept saying doggedly, not able to keep the tears from his eyes.  "You made it back, Ezra.  You did it."

And they waded through another weary night. 

Another day started, with little sign of Ezra getting any better.  He was quieter than before, seeming to have no strength for any more shenanigans.  Nathan did what he could to cool down their conman, almost hoping for more trouble out of him.

Ezra blinked up at him blearily.

"I need you to pull out of this, Ezra," Nathan said.  "You were gone for three months almost, and that was too long.  I thought we told you to stay in your room and not mix with folks once we got back to town," Nathan admonished softly.  "Might've saved you from some trouble."

And Ezra didn't respond.  He lay, sunk into his pillow, looking miserable and pale and goddamn sick.  The day was hot and long, and nothing seemed to help much.  Ezra was too damn hot and had little strength to fight.

They could only wait and hope, sitting with him and talking to him, reminding him that they were there.  He wasn't alone any longer.

Night fell and cooled the room.  Finally, near dawn, the fever broke.

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

Chris entered the clinic to find Vin tossing playing cards on top of the still gambler.  Chris paused at the sight, as Tanner flipped another card onto Ezra.  Standish was under a blanket of pasteboards.

"Is he sleeping?" Chris asked.

"For now," Vin said.  He waited a moment, before resting a hand on Ezra's head.  "He's cooler.  Nate says his fever finally broke last night."

"Thank God.  I didn't think he was ever going to get over it."

"He was pretty much used up from the start.  He ain't gonna give up though," Vin said, finally removing his hand from Ezra.  With a smile, he flipped a few cards more onto him.

"He mind you doing that?" Chris asked.

Vin snorted as he stood slowly.  "He likes the sound of cards movin'," he said. 

Chris nodded.

"How are things outside?" Vin asked.

"Quiet," Larabee responded.  "Haven't seen anyone coming yet."

"They might not come."

"I hope they do.  I've been looking forward to kicking their asses."

Vin glanced to the Regulator clock.  "If those men were on the latest train into Ridge City, they'll be comin' into Four Corners soon."

"Any minute now," Chris replied.

And on cue, they heard a sharp whistle.  Both men came alert.

"Here they come," Vin said.

"Stay with him!" Larabee ordered as Vin pulled his mare's leg from its holster.

"You can count on it," Vin replied.

PART 5:

Chris met up with Buck and JD at the bottom of the stairs.  "Everyone ready?" he asked.

The kid gave a curt nod.  "We got the streets cleared right quick." He nodded to where Josiah and Nathan were still herding the last townspeople out of the street.

"Which direction?" Chris asked.

"Coming in straight from Ridge City," Buck said.  "Should be here shortly.  We'll be gettin' into position."

Chris smirked. "Let's show these city boys how we get things done out here."

7.7.7.7.7.7.7.

"Vin," the voice said softly from behind him.

Tanner turned from his position at the window.

Ezra was sitting up, one-handledly picking up the cards that blanketed him.  "What were you doing?" He sounded flustered.

"Just tryin' to keep busy while I was sitting here."

"You ruined a perfectly good deck."

"They're all here… somewhere.  Some are on the floor.  I think Larabee stepped on one of 'em.  Might be salvageable. I might have bent a couple so that they'd fly better.  You like 'em marked in any case."

"Ruined…" Ezra muttered, then stopped trying to gather the cards.  With an annoyed gesture, he swept the rest of them to the floor and started fretting at the rope around his wrist.  He looked bedraggled and hardly able to sit up.

"Best leave that alone, Ez."

"Vin, untie me."

"Not sure if that's a good idea, Ez."

Ezra sighed, looking embarrassed.  "I assure you, the madness has passed along with my fever.  I apologize for being so unreasonable, but my mind is clear now."  He held up the tethered wrist.  "If you would untie me, I assure you I will not leave.  I heard everything that Mr. Larabee had to say on the matter.  I will behave myself.  You have my word on it."

Vin nodded, accepting that.  "If you get hit by a stray bullet…"

"I will stay out of the way.  And if I'm free, I'm better able to dodge if things get… dodgy.  It would be best if I could help out."

"You ain't gettin' near this window.  Doubt if you can see straight right in any case.  Fever might be broke, but you're still sick as hell."  Vin moved from the window to sit on the bed beside Ezra.

Ezra, looking like death warmed over, smiled and said, "I don't need to see clearly to reload the weapons.  I could do that in my sleep."  And he lifted the arm with the rope tied to it.  "If you would be so kind?  If not, I'll manage it myself."

Vin started work on the knot.  "You're gonna have to untie your foot on your own.  It should keep you busy for a while.  Nate made it good and tight."

"I'll manage," Ezra responded.  "I need to have some part in this fight."

"I know," Tanner responded, letting the untied rope drop, as he went back to the window.  "Just keep your head down, and if I say 'duck', you better duck.  If I say 'dive', you dive."

Ezra smiled at that as he leaned forward to work on the other rope.

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

"Seven of 'em," Buck said quietly, watching the riders come toward the town.  "Thought there was going to be five."

"They brought a couple extras with them," Chris said, watching the group approach.  It was obvious that they weren't locals.  They rode stiffly, obviously sore from the long ride from Ridge City.  They wore street shoes instead of boots.  Even Ezra in his finery had more sense than that.  Ezra might dress up a tad too much for the trail, but he wore what would work for a long ride.  The seven men who came toward them looked rather chaffed in their city suits.

Stupid sons of bitches.

Chris moved down the boardwalk in the heat, with slow measured steps until he reached the jailhouse.  He glanced about, seeing his men in place.  Vin signaled his readiness from the clinic window.  JD stood in front of the Clarion office, seeming to read notices posted there.  Nathan was across the street from him at the cigar shop, glancing at their wares.  Josiah sat in one of the chairs outside of the saloon.  Buck was at the Gem Hotel, casually buffing at his boots.

The street was otherwise empty.  The townspeople had gone to ground to await the results of the latest battle in Four Corners. 

Chris glanced at his watch as the seven men entered the town on their rented mounts.  It was high noon.

He didn't know their names.  He would only learn them when everything was over.  Stanley Carr led them into the town.   Carr brought the group past Nathan and JD, past Chris at the jailhouse, to a stop outside of the undertaker's office.

Chris allowed himself a small smile at the irony.

The wind blew up a dust devil in the street.  It danced in the open space, kicking up dirt and causing the signs hanging above their heads to sway.  The Cincinnati boys all stared in awe at the harmless little twister and looked like they wanted to dive for cover.  It died down after a moment, and the falling dust made an audible sound as it pattered to the ground.

It took a moment longer for the spell to break, and Carr stepped down from his mount.  He moved slowly as he tied his horse and then looked up and down the street, taking note of who was there as the others dismounted.  He looked damn smug and downright condescending as he gazed about at the buildings.

Once everyone was down, Carr moved to where Chris seemed to relax outside of the jailhouse. 

Larabee leaned against the roof support, his hat pulled down over his eyes.  The high sun came down on him, keeping his face in shadow.

"Mister," Carr said as he strode up.  "I'm hoping you can help me locate a fugitive from the law."

Larabee tipped back his head to see Carr from under the rim of his hat.  Carr had slick black hair and a thin mustache.  He wore a derby, as did the rest of his crew, and his face was wet with sweat, coated with dust from the ride.    He looked hot and damn uncomfortable. 

"You hear me?" Carr insisted, obviously unused to a moment's quiet.

"You got a badge?" Chris asked.

Carr stopped short.  Two of his men joined him, standing menacingly to either side.  Two stayed with the horses and the last two men continued down the street. 

Buck and Josiah moved, getting into position near Chris.  JD walked slowly, casually, walking closer to the men with the horses, with Nathan positioning himself between them and the last two men in sight.

The last two continued to walk slowly down the street, their eyes searching the upper floor windows of the saloons.   They came to a stop outside of the former Standish Tavern.  The space had changed hands several times since it had been Ezra's, and then Maude's. It was currently called "The Comet" and was known for offering watered drinks.

Carr stared at Larabee, and then said, "We're looking for a criminal that goes by the name Ezra Standish, but he's been known to use aliases.  I know he's here.  I saw it news."  He said the word with a smug look.  Larabee wanted to rub that expression right off his face.  "Seems he's hoodwinked quite a few people in this town with his lies."

"Are you the law?" Larabee asked laconically.

Carr looked annoyed at the question.  "We're here from Cincinnati to take this Standish into custody.  You've heard of Cincinnati before, haven't you, cowboy?"

A small smirk appeared beneath the brim of Larabee's hat.  "Oh, I've heard of it."

"You know where I could find him?" Carr continued.

Chris let a moment hang, before asking, "What do you want him for?"

Bill Swan, mustached and flighty-looking, stepped forward, saying, "He was involved with a dangerous criminal and stole a large amount of money."

"He endangered lives of lawmen," Teddy Myers said.  He was built like an ox.  "Put decent people at risk."

Bill and Teddy looked about, noticing the movement of the Buck and Josiah.  They kept their hands near their weapons. 

Chris hadn't changed his casual position.  He waited another moment before he asked another question, "What do you aim to do, once you find this desperado?"

"We're going to bring him in," Carr said.

Chris kept watching Carr, not moving.  Buck stepped onto the boardwalk to the right side of the jail.  Josiah had moved to the left. 

JD and Nathan were now on the boardwalk as well, on either side of the men with the horses.

From above, Vin kept low, hidden in the clinic's curtains.  He held a bead on the light-haired man who stood outside of the Comet, next to the livery.  Kirk Schmidt was well-armed.  His displayed weapons were formidable.  Carl Stevenson was the best dressed of the group, armed to the teeth as well, but Vin kept his aim on Schmidt.

"Where you aim to bring Standish?" Chris kept his voice low as he continued his slow questioning.

"To justice," Carr responded.

"Justice…" Chris repeated.  "Do you understand the meaning?"

Carr looked incredulous as he exchanged a glance with his men.  "What did you say?"

Chris hadn't moved.  "Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?"

 Carr's brow furrowed as he looked around, noticing the proximity of Buck and Josiah.  He turned and noted JD and Nathan.  He faced Chris again.  "These men belong to you?"

Chris said, "What about yours?  Do you command them?  Were you plannin' on giving them a cut of that bank money?  Too bad you lost it all."

Carr's face went red as he shouted, "You don't know who you're messing with, cowboy!" 

Chris brushed aside his duster, and let his hand rest on the butt of his gun. He still didn't lift his head, or change his relaxed position against the post.  "I know exactly who I'm dealin' with," Larabee said, his voice low as death.  "I know you have no sense of justice.  You're a worthless sack of shit, and you'd best go now if you want to leave here alive.  I'm giving you one chance."

Carr paused, and then he sneered.  "All this over that worthless conman?"

"He's our conman," Larabee replied.  "He's worth more than you'll ever amount to."

Carr went for his gun, but never stood a chance.  Larabee fired before Carr could fully lift the weapon.  The former police captain went down like a sack of potatoes, and all hell broke loose.

Larabee's men ducked into cover as the street erupted in gunfire.  Carr's men were caught in the open.   Bill and Teddy twisted about, trying to find a place to hide as the bullets came flying, as they attempted to return fire.

The two men with the horses, Tom Thompson and Lester McConnell, got of a couple shots and then hunched behind the animals as JD and Nathan fired back and dodged into doorways.  The horses screamed in fear.  Half of them broke loose, tearing away from the ruckus. Those that had been tightly tied, bucked and reared in the gunfire.  Tom and Lester were forced backward.  They fell and floundered to get clear.

And further down the street, Kirk and Carl opened fire into the currently unoccupied room above the Comet.  Kirk fell with a yelp, his leg collapsing from under him as Vin took him down.  Carl changed his aim, and started unloading into the clinic.  Vin ducked back inside, as Kirk twisted upright and took aim at the clinic.

Near Chris, Bill hit the ground with a gurgled gasp.  Teddy found safety, ducking inside Potter's store.  He kept up a constant barrage of shots, forcing the others back.

Tom and Lester huddled behind the water trough as Nathan and JD kept them pinned.

Kirk was half-upright and firing at the clinic window.   He and Carl were switching from one gun to another as one weapon ran out of bullets, barely allowing Vin a moment to get off a shot. 

Nathan left JD in charge of the two at the trough, as he changed his position to go after Carl and Kirk.  He only managed one shot before Carl went after him, driving him into the doorway of a saloon.

Vin could only fire blindly back at the men, but he kept at them, quickly switching guns and taking fairly accurate aim without exposing himself.  Chris looked up sharply when the deep throaty bark of Vin's mare's leg changed the sharp bang of Ezra's Remington, and he searched for a moment for the gambler, and ended up smiling when he realized that Vin was firing with Ezra's gun, then switching back in an instant to his regular weapon of choice.

The wall around the clinic window was shredded with bullet holes.

Teddy was relentless in his attempt to put a bullet into Chris.

Kirk kept up his barrage of the clinic. Carl fired at Nathan or the clinic with a gun in both hands, until one weapon clicked empty, and then the other.  In that moment, Nathan stepped clear of his cover and a knife sailed, plunging into Carl's chest. He collapsed without drawing another breath.

Kirk's gaze didn't leave the clinic window.  His last gun clicked and Vin popped up one more time and took his shot.

And Kirk went down.

Suddenly, the street went quiet.

Larabee took one breath, then shouted, "Throw down your weapons!  I've had enough"

Lester and Tom were smart enough to toss their weapons aside.  Teddy didn't have a lick of sense and charged Larabee.   The big man fired into the jailhouse, and took three bullets from the men who surrounded him.  He staggered and went down, falling not far from Carr.

It was over.  It had taken only a few minutes to bring down the city slickers.

Larabee moved out of the jail to check his men.  Josiah and Buck stepped free of their cover as JD and Nathan moved to take control of Lester and Tom.  Josiah's shoulder bled where a bullet had creased him, and JD limped from going down hard to avoid a shot, but everyone was otherwise okay.

Five men were unmoving in the street and Buck hurried to make sure they stayed that way.

From the busted-up clinic window, Vin waved, and Ezra appeared beside him, looking rather pleased.

Chris let out a low breath, grateful as hell that his men were okay. He gazed out over the dead men in the street, crumbled in the dirt that they deserved. 

Stupid sons of bitches.

And above them, Ezra started laughing uproariously.  "Nathan!" he shouted, and he glanced over his shoulder and into the clinic.  The front wall was all shot to shit.   "Nathan, the clinic is gonna have to move!"

And Chris laughed as well, relieved as the others joined in and Nathan jogged to the stairway to check the damage.

7.7.7.7.7.7.7

Five of the Cincinnati men were dead.  Tom Thompson and Lester McConnell made it out alive.  They weren't on Ezra's list, not the ones involved in the shooting at the warehouse.   New officers, Lester and Tom accompanied Carr and his crew out of loyalty, but after what had happened in Four Corners, they seemed more than happy to tell the authorities everything they knew.

They weren't going back to Cincinnati in any case.

The dead men were criminals, with further proof of their activities added by Lester and Tom.  The town of Four Corners sent their bodies home and waited, but a calm seemed to settle, and there was no sign of further retribution coming their way.

Apparently, Cincinnati had washed its hands of the dirty officers and had decided it was best to leave the Wild West alone.

It was a wise choice.

7.7.7.7.7.7

Chris walked into the saloon, finding Ezra at their usual table.  In the week following the Cincinnati shootout, Ezra had mostly recovered from the fever, taking longer than he should, but that was to be expected.  The good food served up at the local restaurant helped to fill him out, and today he was looking darn healthy.  Now that the dye was mostly washed from his hair, he looked like their Ezra again.

He'd been able to avoid any duty, and probably wasn't well enough to do much of anything for a few more days, but it wouldn't be long and Chris would have him back on the roster.   It wouldn't be right if he didn't start taking his fair share soon.

The saloon was quiet, and the others were going about their business.  Ezra was playing solitaire in the dimness. 

"You winning?" Chris asked as he approached the table.

Ezra grimaced.  "Not this time," he stated gesturing to the miserable game laid out before him.

"Maybe it's time to give up on it."

"Not in my nature," Ezra said as he turned another card and grimaced.  "It would be wrong to not see this to its end."

"You winnin' more than you're losing?" Chris asked.

"So much of this particular game is pure chance," Ezra said.  "There's little that I can affect.  I have to rely on how the cards fall.  I win some, and I lose some.  And in the end, I am entertained, so I suppose that's how I need to count my winning."  He looked up at Chris and added, "Vin owes me a deck of cards.  He ruined one of mine."

"After what happened to Nathan's clinic, you would have lost them in any case," Chris told him.  "That place looked like a tornado hit it when you boys were done with it."

"It's not my fault that Vin decided to upend the bed.  At least I was clear of it before he tipped it on its side."

"Probably saved your lives when he propped the mattress against the wall.  Wasn't much left of the siding."

Ezra made a face.  "I saw Josiah on a ladder this mornin', still mendin' the outside damage.  I don't see why Nathan is trying to resurrect that place.  Is he deranged?"

"Yes," Chris said with a smile.  "Figure we're all deranged in some way or another."

"This is a perfect opportunity for Nathan to find a new location.  Really, atop the livery is not the best place for a clinic."

"Yeah, but Nathan owns the space," Chris said.  "He saved up the money and bought it himself.  It's up to him, I reckon."

Ezra sighed.  "Ah yes, I can understand the pride that comes with ownership, buying property with one's own earnings.  I suppose no one would be willin' to purchase it from him, especially considerin' its current state.  It would be a terrible loss of money for him."

Chris grimaced at that statement and took a seat beside Ezra.  Chris said, "You know I've been tryin' to chase down that money you were promised."

Ezra looked at him with a blank expression.  "No," he said, "I didn't know that."

"I've been going after Judge Travis.  He wants to pay it out, but everything has to be official with him.  There's some problem with paying it out twice.  So, I was figuring, if the rest of us just …"

"Mr. Larabee," Ezra said quietly.  "There's no need."

"Yeah, Ezra, there is, because you were supposed to get it and that bastard Carr took everything.  Stupid son of a bitch didn't even have any cash on him when he came here."

"Hopefully his wife ended up with it.  She deserved something in that awful bargain."

"I'll keep after Travis and I'll get him to fork it over even if it has to come out of his own pocket.  I'll make him pay it."

Standish went back to solitaire and made a face when he flipped his last card.  He lost the game.  He sighed and muttered, "It was inevitable." He picked up the cards and shuffled them in two quick snaps.  "Of course, I can always begin again."  And he laid out the cards in a new game, setting the cards down in rapid order. 

"Ezra," Chris tried to get the man back on track.

Ezra flipped over the first card in the stack.  "You reserved my pay for me.  I thank you for doin' that.  It wasn't expected, so it was a windfall to me. It's amazing how much can pile up in three months, along with petty cash.  I had no idea that we had so much in reserve. I must remember that."  And he smiled slyly, looking toward the jail where the little safe could be easily opened under the right hands.

"I'm still working on getting you that money, Ezra.  Just wanted you to know."

"Don't," Ezra said as he continued to flip cards, moving them so quickly, Larabee wondered how he was able to recognize and position them as if without thinking.  "I've been able to grow what you gave me.  Those travelers from early this week came well-heeled, and when they left, they were sufficiently less-heeled, I should say."

Chris nodded, remembering the folks on the stagecoach.

Ezra continued, "I had amassed a fairly decent purse for a time, but… a sudden loss and I am back to a building stage." He shrugged again as the cards kept moving.    "Money comes and it goes all the time.  There are days when I am a very rich man, and then I am nearly penniless.  I can't seem to ever keep it."  He raised a hand, palm upward.  "Money is slippery to me.  It is always falling through my fingers."

Ezra went on, "Don't continue your endeavor, Mr. Larabee.  You might end up burnin' bridges with the judge and we need to keep him on our side.  And if you were to acquire that money, I would certainly spend it.  It would be gone in no time, spent on ridiculous things."

"It was promised to you," Chris said.

"Many things are promised," he said.  "There was a time when I believed the only promise in life is cold hard cash.  But perhaps I have a new perspective on such things."

Cards moved from one place to another as Standish went on.  "You see, while I was away, I wasn't concerned about the money situation.  Oh, it would have made my life easier if I'd had all I needed, but it wasn't want I truly wanted.  I had this ridiculous need to put things right."  He shook his head and chuckled.  "My mother would be appalled if I told her what I'd been up to."

"You gonna tell her?"

Ezra pursed his lips in a smile.  "Maude?  Oh, no, not a word to her.  She would be very upset with me." 

"Doesn't surprise me."

"You were upset with me," Ezra said, raising his gaze to meet Larabee's.

"Different reasons," Chris said.  He sighed and then said, "Ezra, I need you to promise me something."

"Promise?" Ezra repeated.  "You know such things mean little to a man like me."

Chris shook his head.  "You're full of shit, Ezra," he said with no anger in his voice.  "Listen, I need you to promise me that if you ever get into a situation like this again, you tell me what's going on.  I don't care if you think I don't have the time, or if you think it costs too much or anything like that.  If you're hurt, if you're in trouble, if you're tryin' to take down some son of a bitch like Carr again and you're out there alone, you tell me.  Let me make the decision."  He waited a moment, watching as the cards moved and Ezra kept his gaze on the game.  "I sure as hell don't want to go through this sort of thing again.  You're one of us, and if you're in trouble, we're all in it with you."

Ezra lifted his gaze then, meeting Chris' eyes for a moment before he went back to the game and continued flipping and moving cards. "While I was out there," Ezra said, "aside from wanting to stop both sets of criminals, I had only one other goal to achieve."  He cleared his throat and didn't lift his head.  "I wanted to come home, and to do so in such a way that didn't endanger anyone in town." 

He kept at the quick game as he spoke.  "You see, I've become used to your presence, to all of you.  And I felt unbalanced being alone in the world.  It's a lifestyle I was well used to, but it felt strange to me.  I've maneuvered alone in all manner of environments, big cities and small villages and near-ghost towns, plantations and pleasant little homes and hovels, battlefields and ship decks and jail cells of all variety." 

The reserve pile of cards was almost gone, and the Aces were buried under their suits.  Ezra said, "I missed you all and just wanted to be back amongst you all."  He stopped talking for a moment, but the cards never stopped.  Finally, he said, "I missed you all dreadfully."

Chris smiled.  "Yeah, well, we all missed you.  Kinda dreadfully, too.  It just wasn't the same here without you."

Ezra looked up at him before returning his attention to the game.  "So, as you see, there's no need to continue your pursuit of that money.  It comes and it goes.  I'll be flush with cash again in no time."

"You said you recently lost some of your cash?"

"Yes.  A pity."

"I heard that Nathan just got a shipment.  Someone replaced a lot of the things that were destroyed in his clinic.  It came 'rush delivery'.  You have any idea who might've done that?"

"I couldn't say," Ezra said.  "Perhaps it was someone who thought they owed something to our esteemed healer.  Perhaps someone had money to burn.  There are people who can't seem to keep hold of their money once they have it."

"They spend it on ridiculous things," Chris concluded.  "So, that promise…"

Ezra seemed to contemplate it.  "I suppose it would go both ways?  To accept such an offer, I would have to be willin' to reciprocate.  Seems chancy."

"You do like a game of chance."

"Indeed I do, Mr. Larabee."  Ezra smiled and settled the last card.  He gestured to neat stacks.  "I won," he said and grinned all the wider.

Chris smiled at that, watching as the gambler picked up the cards and started shuffling them again.  "You gonna play again?" Larabee asked.

Ezra shrugged.  "I'm always open for a game of chance."  Cards snapped in a shuffle and his smile changed to that cunning look of the professional gambler.  "Perhaps we might be able to bring the others in, and try a little poker for a change?"

Chris chuckled and said, "I might be able to make that happen."

"Excellent," Ezra said as he shuffled.  "You bring the guests and the first round is on me."

"And that promise, Ezra."

"The drinks?  Yes, they'll be covered."

"No, Ezra, the promise I just asked about."

"Oh, didn't I answer that already?"

"I want to hear you say it."

Ezra made a dismissive gesture.  "Yes, of course.  Why not?  Now, hurry the others along.  The day is wasting."

Chris supposed that was the best answer he was going to get out of the conman.  He stood, and turned to gather up the others.  He figured it wouldn't be too hard to get them.  It always felt good to have everyone together.  And, after all, Ezra had offered to buy the drinks.

THE END

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