So Simple - the second half
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Part 14:

By the time Vin returned to the others, Chris and Josiah were tying up their captives, while JD held the four survivors under his gun.  Nathan had rolled Ezra onto his back and was dutifully working over him, pressing a folded cloth over the gunshot wound that colored his chest. ‘Alive,’ Vin thought thankfully. ‘He’s still alive.’

But Ezra’s face was pale and slack, his eyes shut.  His clothing and the ground around him were dark with blood. Alive, yes, but dreadfully hurt.

“What can I do?” Vin asked, squatting beside the healer.  ‘Please’, Vin thought, ‘tell me something I can do.  Don’t send me away.’

Nathan didn’t even look up.  He might not have even recognized who hovered there beside him. “Press down, here,” he ordered, indicating the bandage. “Gotta stop the bleeding.” When Vin took over at the bandage, Nathan started yanking things from his bag. Vin watched Ezra's face for any reaction as he pressed, but there was none.  “Careful,” Jackson demanded.  “I think the bullet might ‘ave broke a couple ribs.”

Vin nodded and shifted his weight to press on the wound.  The white cloth was turning red beneath his fingers.  Ezra gasped and his eyes fluttered for a moment as the pressure increased.

“S’okay, Ez. S’okay, I’m gonna help,” Vin said reassuringly, and the gambler soon quieted. Ezra’s face strained in a pain-filled grimace before it returned to utter stillness.

JD and the others looked toward them. The outlaws knew better than to try for escape. These lawmen wouldn’t let them live if they tried anything now. They let themselves be led by the distracted men.

“What the hell’s happening?”  Wilmington shouted from where he’d been left, still hidden among the rocks.

“You keep still, Buck,” Nathan barked, as he pulled out his tools. “I swear, if you start to bleedin’ again, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ for you!”  He gathered more bandages from his bags.

“Dammit, Nate!” Buck’s voice carried above the wall.  They could hear him slap the rock with his open hand in frustration.  “Is everyone okay? What’s goin’ on? How’s Ezra?" He was blind in his location, and growing frantic.  He’d only gotten bits and pieces on what was happening and it maddened him.

“We got him, Buck,” Chris replied, shoving Creel to the ground along with the last of his men.  Out of twenty men, only four were left  -- mighty poor return.

“Chris, is he okay?”  The plaintive sound of Wilmington’s voice was impossible to ignore.  “Jus’ tell me, is he okay?”

“Nate’s with him,” Chris stood over Creel and the man glared back at him. The comment told him nothing... and everything.

“Chris…” the call came over the wall and Larabee shook his head.  He knew exactly what Wilmington wanted. He can’t die with me bidin’ my time here in safety.  Let me see him.

“I’m comin’, Buck.”  Chris nodded to Josiah.  “Keep an eye on the kid.”

JD sucked in his pale cheeks.  “I’m fine, Chris," he stated determinedly. He changed his stance, holding his gun steady on his charges, keeping his wounded arm still.

Chris started toward the rock wall to fetch Wilmington.  “Just don’t let him keel over, Josiah.”

“You can rest assured, I won’t let him fall.”  Josiah smiled at the youngest of the group, and then gave JD a reassuring thump on the back.  The kid was doing well, and would hold his own.

Dunne’s arm ached and throbbed, but he’d done a fair job of bandaging it.  It wasn't really bleeding anymore. He was in no real danger, though he was lightheaded and felt queasy if he moved too quickly.  He kept his attention switching from the outlaws to his friends.  Creel and his men had no spirit left.  They had seen their fellow gang members shot, blown to bits…  they had heard Red-Eye’s strangled last breaths.  They were done.

JD watched as Vin kept weight on Ezra.  Twice, Ezra’s hand twitched, but he was otherwise still; he sucked in his breath more than once, as if preparing to scream -- but exhaled instead, like a deep sigh.  INathan returned and squatted next to Vin.  "We got to get him bound up, get the bleeding stopped.."

"What about the bullet?" Vin asked, moving to let Nathan in.

"More important that the hole heals," Nathan told him.  "A man can live a long life with lead in him."

Ezra stirred, as Vin sat him up, and Nathan began winding fresh bandages over the bloody rags that Vin had been using.  "Get it stopped," Nathan repeated.  "Then we can get a better look later."

Dunne turned when he heard the sound of a wagon.  Chris guided the vehicle out from its hiding place, with Wilmington already settled in the back.  ‘Good thing we brought them,’ JD thought.  ‘Gonna put them to use.’

Wilmington leaned eagerly over one side of the wagon.  “Nate!”  he called. “Nate!  He gonna be okay?”

“He’s a fighter,” Nathan replied, tying off the cloth, hoping it would hold for now.  “He’ll fight this.”  He laid a hand on Ezra’s warm head.  ‘He’s already got a fever,’ the healer thought, wondering if he was sick before this all started.  He certainly didn’t look well when Jackson first laid eyes on him.  ‘Fight this,’ he thought to himself.  ‘Don’t give up.’

Part 15:

The living crowded the lead wagon.  Sanchez drove while Larabee rode  beside him, sitting sideways on the seat to keep an eye on the other occupants.  Creel and his three men were tied at the front.  The four outlaws had made it through the battle without a scratch -- lucky bastards.  Chris told them that they could be easily moved to the other wagon if they did anything foolish, could join their fellow gang members in more than just locality.  They let Larabee know that there'd be no trouble from them -- none whatsoever.

Max Creel gazed toward Standish.  Ludlow would have killed them all just to finish off that traitor.  The overman had made a poor choice.  His attack had cost them three more men.  Creel sighed, realizing that he’d lost sixteen men altogether, while Larabee only lost this one. ‘Maybe I should’ve let Ludlow have his fun earlier on,’ he thought with a sigh of resignation.  ‘Would have made a lot of things easier.’ 

Ezra was situated at the back of the wagon, with Buck and Nathan beside him. He hadn't made a sound as Josiah and Nathan transferred him, after Larabee had put together a sufficient bed with the blankets.   Josiah had kept up a one-sided conversation with the unhearing man, holding him close as they moved him, as if the nearness might return some life to his limp body. The wagons were loaded -- one was filled with the dead.   The bodies were stacked like cordwood on the wagon's bed and covered with blankets, not out of respect or decency, but to keep away the flies. The force of the explosions had done terrible damage to many of them.  Others had died from their bullet wounds. Ludlow was thrown in with the rest, his eyes blank now and his mouth was still.

Ezra had opened his eyes only for a moment when they settled him, seeming to search for a moment, looking bewildered.  "We got ya, Ezra," Nathan had assured, seeing the green eyes seek. But, the gambler quickly lost his grip with reality and fell back into unconsciousness.

Nathan had doctored JD's arm, placing a few stitches into the nasty graze and making him drink half a canteen of water before he put him in charge of the second wagon.  It would be easy to handle, simply following the first.  The healer kept an eye on the young man as they headed away from Nelson's Pond, making sure he stayed upright in the wagon seat.  JD sat exceptionally tall, just to prove that he was up to the task of driving the wagon home.  He'd just have to keep himself from remembering what his cargo entailed. A quick glance behind him was enough to make his 'iffy' stomach turn over.  Job, Prophet and the other horses were tied behind the second wagon, and followed it in a line.

Vin stayed behind to round up the loose horses. The innocent animals need not suffer for the ills of their masters. He'd kept his bedroll and kit, prepared to spend the night at the pond and wait until help arrived to move the herd.  Chris watched as the wagons pulled away and Vin headed out after the horses, going for one specific animal first.

The horses loped around the open area, still frightened by the horrible noises. The skittish creatures herded together, seeking comfort with their numbers -- all except for one.  The lone horse wandered about, never going far from the site of the explosions. It seemed more lost than frightened, wanting to join the herd, but was torn between the need to be with others of his kind and the need to return. He paced the open space between, searching.

Vin whistled sharply and the chestnut stopped its pacing and threw back its head. Tanner whistled again, ambling toward the lonely horse.  Peso whinnied and the chestnut started toward them, craning its neck and whickering.  It had no fear of them and approached with almost a relieved look on its long face. Larabee watched as Vin caught hold of the animal's bridle and pulled it toward him.  Once captured, Chaucer leaned against Peso as Vin gently stroked its neck. The wagons increased the distance until Chris could no longer make out what was happening.

Part 16:

The trip home took far longer than anyone wanted.  JD kept a determined face, following behind.  Josiah threw glances over his shoulder through most of the ride, but kept a careful watch ahead, trying to find the easiest pass over the trackless country. Why hadn't Ezra guided them to someplace along a decent, well-packed trail? A road, maybe?  Less population, Josiah decided -- less chance of anyone else getting hurt.

Now, because he had chosen this unpeopled location, Ezra had to suffer the consequences.  The wagon jumped and bobbled and jounced as they made their way home, and every bump was murderous on the injured occupants.

"Say, Josiah," Buck growled.  "Think ya could find ANOTHER hole to ride us through?"

"Sorry, brother Buck," Josiah said in a low voice.  "There seems to be a multitude of them, and try as I might, we can't get around every one."

Buck muttered and clung to his aching leg.  "Just keep it easy for a while, okay?"

Larabee returned his gaze to Creel and the man shrunk back from his deadly glare. The other three men had been fairly new to his gang and had no loyalty to it.  They crept as far as they could from Creel, hoping to avoid the hatred of the dark-clad gunslinger.

Nathan sat beside Ezra, keeping a close eye on him, watching his labored and shallow breathing.  He laid his hand again on Ezra's face, cupping it around Ezra's cheek and chin, feeling the warmth of fever.  ‘Damn, damn, damn,’ the healer thought.  And the wagon hit another snag, banging everyone about.

Ezra gasped again, and clenched his hands into the blanket. He opened his eyes halfway, staring glassily at the two men who sat beside him.

"Hey, Ez," Buck said softly.  "You gettin' tired of this ride, too?  I know I am.  Seems to me we got to find every gopher hole in the territory. Didn't think there was so many of them, did you?  Josiah's doin' his best though. He's driven a wagon or two in his day and he knows what he's doin'.  It'll get easier once we make it to the road, you'll see."

Nathan checked the bandage, to make sure that the most recent jostling hadn't started the wound bleeding again. He glanced to Buck, seeing the pained look on the ladies' man's face.  "Your leg gettin' worse now, Buck?"

"Hurts like a whole mess of woodpeckers are holdin’ a peckin’ party in it," Buck returned, but he frowned, showing that this wasn't the reason for his concern.  "He ain't doin' so good, is he?"

"Shouldn't ‘ave gotten a fever so fast.  I'm 'fraid he was sick before anythin' here started."

Chris shoved Creel.  "That right?" Larabee demanded.  "Was he sick?"

Creel looked astonished.  "I don't know," he returned quickly.  "It wasn't my problem."

"He sure looked sick," JD responded from his place in the second wagon. "He looked kinda peaked when I first laid eyes on him."

Creel made a sour face at having to respond to the questions.  "It wasn't my place to know if a man had an ailin' tummy.  Ludlow was my overman.  He saw to the men.  Your man shot Ludlow down so I don't have an answer for you."

Chris glared at Creel, disgusted that this man couldn't even keep track of his own men.  And he sighed, reminding himself that Ezra was NEVER one of Creel's men. Ezra was Larabee's responsibility and it was his fault that Ezra had been sick while in Creel's company.   ‘Sorry, Ezra,’ he thought as he watched Buck tuck himself closer to Ezra, trying to save him from the worst of the jostling.   ‘Should've kept an eye on you. Should've made sure you were okay.’

Buck was talking quietly to Ezra, "Vin got Chaucer okay.  I seen him do it. He'll bring him home for ya." He picked up Ezra's hand and clutched it. "Don't worry none about that. I know that horse of yours likes a roof over his head as much as you do. He'll just spend the night with his buddy Peso and come on home tomorrow. I think Peso missed him. I know my horse did.  Clyde didn't have anyone to tease him for no good reason while Chaucer was gone.  He didn't know what to do with himself.   Kept lookin' over his shoulder as if he expected trouble and looked kinda disappointed when he didn't find any.  You'll get to see Chaucer when Vin brings him back.  What do you say to that?"  But the con man didn't move.  Buck listened to Ezra's shallow breathing and turned toward Nate. "Is he gonna be okay? He don't sound so good."

"Bullet snapped a couple ribs," Nathan stated.  "Might have done some real harm there."  He kept a vigil, carefully watching to ensure that the gambler didn't start exhaling any blood, that he didn’t choke.  Lord, help him.

Buck frowned.  "You're gonna be okay, hoss," he muttered to the gambler.  "I'll stake a month's wages on that one.  Just hang in there."

Josiah hit another rut, jolting the wagon's passengers. Ezra gasped at the harsh treatment and opened his eyes again.

"Hey, Ez," Buck said with an encouraging smile, seeing his green eyes. "We're almost home.  Just relax.  We'll get you there."  And Ezra drifted away, without speaking, without moving, falling back into his black sleep.  Over and over it was the same thing -- a violent bump, and startled eyes looking for help. "Almost home, buddy.  Just hang on a bit and we'll get you there."  "It won't be long now.  We'll get ya home."  "Just stay with us."

Nathan moved between his patients, checking on Buck and watching JD carefully. The young sheriff would look offended when he noticed Jackson's speculating glance.  He'd lift his head high, and hold his wounded arm carefully.  JD was doing all right. Vin had remained still long enough to have his scratch tended before he left for the horses.  Buck couldn't move far with his bum leg.  Ezra wasn't moving at all.

Larabee watched with saddened eyes. Ezra looked so fragile on that pile of blankets, being held in place by Buck. ‘What the hell went on with you at Creel’s camp,’ he thought.  The dark circles under his eyes tell-taled Ezra's exhaustion; his pale skin detailed his illness; the dark bruise over one cheek was proof of something else.

"Who hit him?" Larabee asked suddenly.

"What?" Creel looked stunned, not ready for a question.

"I said, ‘who hit him?’"  Larabee nodded toward the bruise on Ezra's face. "And don’t tell me that it isn't your worry."

Creel didn't know what to say immediately.  Standish was dying from a gunshot wound and Larabee was first concerned about a cold, and now a bruise.  "Ludlow," he finally replied.

Larabee's eyes hardened.  "Why?"

Creel considered for a moment and then said, "Ludlow figured the man was a traitor… and he was.  I should have listened to him. If I had only got rid of Standish at the start of this, we'd be free and clear."  Creel shrugged.

Ezra stirred and Buck placed a hand on him again.  "Easy, Ez.  We're almost home."

"Standish never fit in with my men," Creel continued. "Most of them couldn't stand the sight of him.  Ludlow, at least, had some sense about him."  He jerked his head in Ezra's direction and the gambler clenched his hand.  "Always knew this one was scum."

With surprising speed, Larabee launched slammed a fist into Creel's face. The outlaw fell violently against the man nearest him, gasping as he grabbed at his bloody lip. The man who'd become a pillow tried to move out from under Creel. He didn't want to be associated with his former leader anymore. His hands bound, Creel fought to sit up, not receiving any help from his men.

Creel looked up to find Larabee still over him, his face red with rage and straining forward.  The only thing that stopped him from launching himself onto the outlaw was the preacher, who had twisted around in the wagon seat and latched a massive arm around Larabee's chest.

"Brother," Sanchez said in a low voice, "Best let him be. We need someone to stand trial for his sins."

Larabee lurched once more, making Creel flinch.  He smiled, a smile that chilled Creel's soul. "I'll watch you hang," Larabee growled and then settled himself back in the front seat. “I’ll watch the rope choke the life out of you. Won’t be an easy drop. I’ll see to it that it won’t be fast.”

Creel gulped.

Sanchez chuckled as Larabee settled again. "Did it feel good?"

"Damn good," Larabee returned, flexing his hand.  "I'll do it again if need be." JD grinned from the other wagon and both Nathan and Buck looked pleased. Chris had a mighty strong feeling that he wouldn't be the only one willing to administer a little justice to this bastard if necessary.

Creel felt for loose teeth with his tongue, found the torn skin inside his cheek, hunched his shoulders and said no more.

Buck kept one hand on Ezra, trying to keep him still in that rattling wagon bed, keeping a grip on him as if it would hold him back from death. Ezra was as pale as a sheet, breathing strangely and too damn still. Wilmington talked almost the entire way. Most of it was idle chatter, just pointing out the landmarks as they went past them or talking about events around town -- things that Ezra had missed. His leg throbbed throughout, and screamed with pain when they hit bumps, but he could stand it.  He kept his attention on the gambler.

They hit another hole and Ezra gasped again, looking out through hooded eyes and falling again, falling away from them.

"Ez?" Buck called hopefully, but Ezra was gone again.

‘Answer me, Ez,’ Buck thought, his hand clenching Ezra's.  ‘Just say a word or two.  Don't keep so quiet. Don't do this. Stay with us.’

Part 17:

It was growing dark as they approached town. Nathan glanced back at JD who smiled triumphantly.  His face was pale and he sat stiffly on the seat, directing the horses with one hand. He'd probably tip over the minute he climbed out of that seat, but he wasn't going to give in.

"Tough little soldier, ain't he?" Buck said softly, following Nathan's gaze. "I could'a done the job, too," he confided. "A hole in my leg ain't gonna stop me." He gestured to the bandaged wound and then winced as he tried to sit up straighter. "But, ya see," he groaned.  "I wanted to look after Ez."

Nathan nodded knowingly.  Ezra had been oblivious through most of the ride, but Nathan was glad for Buck's presence.  Maybe Ezra realized that someone was beside him, keeping a grip on him and speaking to him the whole way. Maybe he knew that someone cared.

The two wagons rattled into the darkening town and the townspeople gave way, looking curiously at the occupants. They had seen their lawmen ride out that morning, and were left with the trepidation that always met them when their peacekeepers were gone. The town had a long history of violence, and it was disheartening to see all of the remaining lawmen leave at once -- it left them open and unprotected. The town was always uneasy until they returned.

They stared as the two wagons came to a stop in front of the clinic. Some shied away from the second one, seeing the bloody bodies piled up beneath the blankets. Some drew nearer, fascinated by nearness of death. The townspeople didn’t like the looks of the four men that were jammed at the front of the first wagon, one of them with a swollen lip.  It took them a minute to register that the man at the back of the wagon, bloody, muddied and pale, was their familiar and missing gambler.

"Standish?" Conklin cried, stepping clear from the rest of the crowd. "You brought him back?" The man watched as Nathan and Chris carefully lifted the gamester from the wagon bed to Josiah.

Ezra eyes opened partway, gazing out at the crowd that had formed, blinking dully at them.  His breathing became more ragged, the pain tearing at him as he was lifted.

"It's okay, son," Josiah murmured softly, holding Ezra gently as Chris climbed down to help him.  "We're home now. It's okay."

JD moved from the 'dead' wagon to the front one. Ben Mack, the town's undertaker, would be busy tonight, he thought. Dunne smiled weakly at Buck as he leaned on the vehicle. They'd watch the prisoners until someone came back to take them to the jail.  Creel and his men would be certainly guarded, but for now, Buck and JD watched the group that headed toward the clinic.

“He gonna be okay, Buck?” JD asked.  His head was spinning now and he was pretty sure he wouldn't make it much further without any help.

“Sure, kid,” Buck replied, but his voice held doubt.

"Did he say much?  I couldn't hear anythin' from where I was."

"Didn't have much to say, JD," Buck replied softly, watching intently as if the power of his gaze might help carry the burden.

Chris had taken up Ezra's legs and helped Josiah carry him to the stairs.

"What?" Conklin stated, coming up behind them. "You aren't locking him up?  He's a criminal!  He's run with that lot! I know, I've seen him with those men in Ridge City when I was there to get my shipments." He gestured toward Creel with disgust. "We don't want the like of him in this town. This is a decent place. It's finally shaping up now that we got rid of that no-good con man and we don't want no more of his…"

If Larabee wasn't trying so hard to carry Ezra steady, he would have sprung on the man.  His voice became as low and as dangerous as a mountain lion's growl.  "You son-of-a-bitch, get your worthless ass away from me before I rip you apart!"

Conklin stepped back in surprise, and was shoved further away as Nathan pushed past him. Josiah watched as Ezra's hooded eyes momentarily glanced across Larabee's grimace, and closed again. Standish sighed audibly.

"Son," Josiah shook him gently as they started up to the clinic.  "Ezra?"

"What's wrong?"  Nathan asked, clambering up the stairs behind them.

"I don't know," Josiah replied. There had been such a sorrowful sound to that sigh. "He seemed to be with us for a moment, but he's gone again."

Part 18:

Carl Stoker and his brother Mick had gone out to Nelson's Pond the next morning to help Vin bring the horses in.  The Stokers took the majority of the stock home with them. They'd take charge of them at their ranch until word came regarding the orphaned animals' future.

Vin rode on to Four Corners with Chaucer beside him. The town had a different feel to it as he made his way up the street.  There was an excitement that hadn't been there for weeks now, an anticipation that he could almost taste.  The people who watched him pass stepped back with their hands held close to their chests as if they held in the questions they yearned to ask.  Nobody spoke, they just watched him with questioning eyes.

He smiled when he reached the livery and saw that the stall at the back corner had been emptied of the equipment that had been stored there for almost two months. Chaucer snorted happily at the sight of his familiar home and walked immediately to it.  He swung his head around and nipped at the brim of Vin's hat.

Vin brushed the horse away.  "Yeah, that's right, Chauce."  He had forgotten what an annoyance the animal was.  It was good to have him around again.  "You're home now," he muttered. "I just hope your owner is doin' okay."   He ran his hand over the chestnut's head.  "He sure didn't look too good when I last seen him."  The horse snorted and Vin added, "He's gonna be okay though."

He felt a little self-conscious, speaking to the animal.  He wasn’t much of a conversationalist himself, and Peso was used to his silence, but Chaucer seemed to behave better when someone explained things to him.  He'd heard Ezra holding entire conversations with the horse, acting as if he was receiving intelligent responses and receiving answers to supposed questions. Vin left the horses in the care of the livery boys; they'd unsaddle the horses and brush them down -- see to their well-being.  He went immediately to the clinic.

Tanner had spent an uncomfortable night at Nelson's Pond.  It wasn't the location that bothered him. No, he was used to living outdoors and a bedroll was more common than a bed to him.  Rather, he had been haunted with memories.  Vin had seen many men die in his career as a bounty hunter; he'd seen men that were hit in the chest, so near the lungs.  A man could drown in his own blood. He had seen a man who was fine at first, later coughing and choking, unable to breathe for all the red fluid in his airways.  He had seen another man die slowly, over weeks, coughing into a handkerchief while his lungs slowly stopped working for him.  He’d smothered over the course of a month.

He remembered Ludlow, trying to breathe with his torn neck. He could recall Ezra, spinning from the force of the bullet and falling, lying on his back and staring at the sky, and then Nathan digging into his chest.

‘It ain't gonna happen to him,’ Vin told himself.  He's just fine, otherwise those Stokers would have known something. But the Stoker brothers had been rather uninformed when they came to meet him at Nelson's Pond.  They only knew that Ezra and the others had made it home, and nothing more than that.

‘He'll be fine,’ Vin thought again.  ‘Wouldn't accept any other way about it.’

He strode up the stairs slowly and put his hand on the door.  He dreaded the scene he might find. What if Ezra wasn't here?  What if he had been taken away already and brought to Ben Mack’s?  What if he died while I was out there still? He pressed the door open and stood a moment in the open doorway.

"Hey, Vin!"  Buck called cheerfully from his place on one of the cots.  "Good t'see ya, Tanner!"

Jackson sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Vin," he said with a nod. "How'd it go? Any trouble?"

"Naw," Vin responded absently.  "No problems."  He entered the room anxiously, slowly approaching the bed. He was still there – thank God.   Ezra was breathing shallowly, feverish, but alive.

Vin didn't want to ask 'how is he?' A blind man could see he wasn't well. The tracker just laid one hand on top of Ezra's hand.  He felt so warm.  His face was so pale and gaunt that he hardly looked like the suave gambler Vin had become familiar with.

"He's hanging in there," Jackson answered Vin's unasked question. "He lost a lot of blood, Vin, and this fever ain’t doin’ him any favors. If he makes it through the day, he should be okay."

Vin nodded and the other two men remained silent. Ezra just continued to take his insubstantial breaths.  "Where's Chris?"  the tracker asked. He had expected to see Larabee stationed here as well, not moving from the gambler's side.

"The jail," Nathan replied.  "Josiah kept an eye on those fellas for most the night. Chris took over for him some hours ago.  JD's s’posed to take a turn after he's slept."

"You can bet ol' Chris will be back as soon as JD's there to spell him," Buck put in.  "He could hardly pull himself from Ezra when he left, but he couldn't let Josiah fall asleep on the job. Nate sent JD to bed, but you can bet that kid will be there on the spot. Hell, Josiah was here up until sunrise, then Nate made him go. I think he would 'ave preferred to go to sleep here, but Nate wouldn't have it."

Nathan shrugged.  "I already got two patients to tend to.  There was no more room for another."  The healer had seen the solemn sadness on the preacher's face, the determination to stay awake despite his fatigue.   He'd left, finally, with the promise that Nathan would rest when Vin returned.

Vin nodded and returned his gaze to Ezra's expressionless face.  "Wake up at all?"

"A couple times since we got back," Nathan replied.  "We talked to him a bit. He ain't said much.  Doesn't really seem to know what's goin' on."

"He just looks so damn sad," Buck added.  "I don't know, Vin.  It's like he doesn't know why he's here."

"He can't remember?" Vin asked, perplexed.

"Naw…it's just," Buck pulled a face as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "He's just not right."

Vin clasped the warm hand and squeezed it gently. He smiled slightly, remembering how JD had teased Buck the day before. Ezra had the hands of a girl. The smooth hand flexed in his.  "Ezra?" he tried.  A minute passed as Ezra slowly turned his head and sucked in his breath. "Ezra?" Vin called again.

"Vin?" Ezra returned hoarsely.

"Hey, pard," Vin replied, crouching down beside the bed, not releasing the warm hand.  Buck sat up expectantly in his bed.  Nathan strode closer.

Ezra opened his eyes and looked toward Tanner.  His eyes didn't quite seem to focus on him.  "You're back?"  Ezra voice was soft and without inflection.

"Yep.  Come right back," Vin smiled, trying to ignore the obvious pain in Ezra's eyes, the strain on his face.

"Chaucer…" Ezra gasped.

"Got him back just fine.  Dinnent give me no trouble a'tall.  Not like his usual ornery self.   I think he was just glad to come on home."  Vin saw a flinch cross Ezra's face.  "You okay?"  He looked worriedly to Nathan.

"M'fine, Vin," Ezra said dully, his eyes half-closing.  He'd never told a more obvious lie before. "My saddle…did you find my saddle?"

"Brung it back with Chaucer.  The boys at the livery will put it where it always goes…just like always."

Ezra tried to smile.  "Good…" he breathed out the word.

"We'll get yer tack box back soon as we can and Chaucer'll be all settled. He'll have all your fancy brushes and stuff again."

Ezra moved his head a fraction, imitating a nod. "He deserves the best."

Nathan moved in with a cup of his usually remedies. "Ezra, I'm gonna want you to take some of this and I don't need no fussin'.  I've been puttin' up with Wilmington here all night as well as Larabee and the others and I don't need no fight."  He smiled as he spoke, ready to rile the southerner. He'd gotten Ezra to drink water earlier, it was time to get some medicine into him. He prepared himself for the usual confrontation.

Instead, Ezra just pivoted his languorous gaze to Nathan and offered no resistance. Vin helped sit Ezra up and Nathan fed him the contents of the cup. There was no outcry, no voicing of disgust, no grimaces or turning away. He simply drank what was offered to him, letting Vin hold him up.

‘Damn,’ Nathan thought as he held the empty cup in his hand. He knew for a fact that this was a particularly foul concoction. Ezra had taken it without muttering a word. The gambler looked back at him dully, blinking lethargically.

As Vin helped settle Ezra back on his pillows, he glanced across to Nathan and saw a discontented look.  Buck returned the same expression.  Something was definitely wrong.

Part 19:

Chris watched the outlaws as they began to stir. The three men who worked for Creel awoke before their boss. Larabee had questioned them without learning much. It seems that they had joined the group too recently to have been part of any of the earlier raids. They knew little of the plans for Four Corners, outside of the fact that they'd be rich when they left it.

They weren't saints, Chris realized -- no, not by a long-shot -- but it appeared that they had done little more than accompany Creel and assist in the attack on the lawmen.  They'd be tried for that and nothing more.

Creel was his prize.  The leader kept silent during the questioning, feigning sleep on the cot while the man locked up with him had to recline on the floor. Certainly Creel couldn't have slept throughout the questioning. He must have heard all that his men had said. They were eager to give him up -- but had nothing of value to provide.

"Creel," Larabee growled.  The man didn't move.  "Creel!" Larabee shouted.  "I need answers."

"I have nothing to give you," Creel responded, not opening his eyes or shifting his position on the cot.

Chris jumped to his feet and strode to the cell. "You'll hang for the murders of innocent people in those other towns."

Creel finally opened his eyes. "Do you have any proof?"

"I have plenty," Chris replied, not knowing what evidence he could find to back up his claim.

Creel snorted. "Bring me some proof and maybe you'll have yourself a case against me.  I did nothing more than bring my men out on a ride to Nelson's Pond.  Ain't no crime in that."  He glanced at the other men, glad that he had the meekest of the group in with him.  "I can't believe that you can accept the words of these obviously ill-informed cow-hands."

When Larabee didn't reply, Creel smiled and tried to get back to sleep. There was no evidence and he'd be a free man once his lawyer arrived, once Judge Travis heard his case. Standish was probably dead by now anyway.

Chris watched Creel with a steady glance. There was no doubt in his mind that Creel would hang. He'd just have to wait until Ezra could provide him with what he needed. Let Ezra rest a bit yet, Chris decided.  I'll get what I need from him before the judge arrives, but until then I'll let him get his strength back.

He tensed in his chair, thinking of Standish. God, he'd better live until then. Nobody had come to fetch him yet, so he knew Ezra still lived, that he hadn't worsened. He glanced to the clock, counting the minutes until JD would arrive and relieve him.

Part 20:

"Mr. Larabee," Mary said as she approached him, clutching her pad and pencil. She had seen JD head toward the jail to relieve Chris Larabee. The young sheriff had visited the clinic first, then walked with a confident gait to the jail, nodding to those that he passed.  JD's arm was in a sling, but he seemed determined to show no further sign of injury. She stood in her doorway and stepped out after Larabee as soon as he passed.

Chris came to a stop and touched the brim of his hat. "Mary," he greeted. "What can I help you with?"

She smiled and cleared her throat. "I thought that I might write a story about what happened to Ezra with Creel’s gang."

Chris didn't reply immediately, mulling over the idea.  "We won't have a whole story until Ezra feels like talkin'."

“I believe I have enough for a start.” Mary bit her lip and frowned prettily. "But I was concerned about something."

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if it was short-sighted of me to publish the account." She sighed. "You see, I was up at the clinic earlier to check on Ezra.  He was asleep, Nathan too. Buck and Vin told me all about what had happened.  I was amazed. I never knew anything about it, especially after our discussion of the matter.” She gave Chris a look that he couldn’t exactly interpret. “Ezra did so much for this town; living with those people and getting hurt to protect us. I think the town should know what he did. I think he deserves that, but…"

"But…" Chris prompted, realizing the reluctance of the newspaperwoman.

"I thought about it and wondered if it was the best idea." She fiddled with her pencil as she spoke.  "I considered that this was a very effective way to stop these men, becoming part of their group to learn about them.  What you did was very intelligent, leading Mr. Creel and this whole town to believe the worst of Ezra.  I'm concerned that if I publish the account, Ezra might be in danger if you were to use the same idea in the future." When Chris didn't speak immediately, she continued, "I'm afraid that someone might read the story and use that against him, might realize that it's all a… con, if you were to kick Ezra out of the town again"

Chris said nothing as he thought about what Mary had presented him with. What she said was true; they didn’t need any proof of the whole processes laid out in print.  If they were to use the same scenario in the future -- verbally attack Ezra and toss him from the town -- allow him access to a gang.  If Mary were to report this incident, their plan would be revealed.  It would be best if it was all kept quiet.

Still, Larabee recalled that hurt look on Ezra's face as he was cursed in front of the whole town.  Larabee recalled the two-month wait, with only cryptic messages as contact, remembered how thin and tired and sick Ezra looked when they met up with him again.  He could still envision Ezra jerk and twist and fall as the bullet struck him, his eyes wide.  Then, the jeering comments of Ludlow as the degenerate continued to fire at the helpless gambler.  Chris closed his eyes, remembering how happy he'd been with the idea that they'd get Ezra back, and then how terrified he'd felt with the idea that he'd be taken away, before their eyes -- that they'd be unable to do anything to stop it.  He recalled Ezra’s difficulty in breathing, his pained looks during the trip home, waiting all morning for someone to come running to him and tell him the worst.

Chris thought about what the past two months must have been like for Ezra and he said, "Print it.  We won't be doing this again."  He could state that without any reservations. There was no way in hell he'd put Ezra through this same thing again.  He didn’t deserve it.

Mary nodded. “That would be wonderful.  Maybe I could go up and talk to Ezra about what happened when he's awake?”

Chris sighed.  “When he’s ready.  I don’t want him to bothered at all while he’s recovering.” He raised his eyes quickly and added, “I don’t mean that you’re a bother…”

Mary smiled.  “I know what you meant.  I’ll wait until he’s feeling stronger and put his story in the next issue.”

“That’d be a fine idea, Mary.”

“Now, Mr. Larabee.” Her demeanor changed as she became a journalist and said, "Could you tell me how this all started?"

Larabee regarded her statement and replied, “Later, Mary.  I gotta check up on him first.” And he continued on his way toward the clinic.

Part 21:

He could still hear the words, resounding in his head. He knew full well that Larabee had acting a part to break him free from the town, but that didn't stop Chris from continuing his onslaught far after the charade should have ended. He had been hurt, he remembered that.  It was impossible to ignore the shattered chest, Nathan leaning over him and utilizing his implements of torture, and still the words continued, Chris still attacked him.

"Shut your hole! You ain't got nothin' anyone wants to hear." – he’d heard it as he lay on the ground, bleeding.

"You son-of-a-bitch, get your worthless ass away from me before I rip you apart!"

"Stay here one second more and I'll shoot you where you stand!" – again, as they moved to the clinic.

Larabee's words reverberated in his head, followed by others…voices he didn't completely recognize, but could understand full well.

“Stinkin’ bastard!”

“You’re gonna get what you deserve, ya damn two-timer, ya worthless piece of shit!”

"Standish never fit in with my men.  Most of them couldn't stand the sight of him. Always knew this one was scum."

"He's a criminal! We don't want the like of him in this town.  This is a decent place. It's finally shapin' up now that we got rid of that no-good con man."

Again and again, the words replayed in his fevered mind, mingling with the words Larabee had spoken earlier until it all became one voice, condemning him, ordering him away.

"Money is the only thing you give a damn about.  You'd sell your mother for a dollar.  You'd give up your soul for less.  I doubt you even have one anymore."

"You're useless."

"Get out of this town and never show your worthless face around here again!"

He wanted to escape the words, wanted to convince himself that it was all just a play, but accusing voices wouldn't stop.  He felt so hot, so tired, so hurt.  He wished the voices would just let him be, but they followed him into his sleep and chased him deeper into blackness.

He woke with a start and heard Nathan near him, call his name urgently and shaking him gently.  "Wake up, Ezra.  Yer dreamin'!  Come on, Ez, quiet down.”

“Easy, Ezra.”  Was that Larabee?

Of course he was dreaming, he was asleep, wasn't he?  He lay still, not opening his eyes, and Nathan stopped his querulous calling.  The voice that might have been Larabee slipped away.  He didn't want to face them yet.

“That’s right,” he heard Nathan murmur.  “It’s okay now.  Just rest easy.  Go back to sleep.”

Okay?  Nathan had said it was ‘okay now.’ Well, maybe for him.  The voices were already muttering again, getting ready to accost him again. Ezra realized, with a heavy heart, that the only way to quiet the voices would be to follow through with the demands, and leave.

He didn't want to go, but it was the only way.

Part 22:

"JD," Billy called as he tramped down the boardwalk. The Potter children followed in close pursuit, their feet making a cacophony on the wooden walkway.  "JD!"

"Hi there, kids," the young sheriff responded.  "What're you all up to?"

"We were wonderin'," Miss Katie said, dropping her head. "We were wonderin' if we could go up and see Ezra now."

"Yeah," Paul added.  "I wanted to bring him this pony."  The boy held up a little tin horse, carefully positioning the toy so that its feet were all level. It was spotted and painted with a bright red saddle and had real hair for a mane and tail.  "I earned it at the store.  Mama said I could have whatever I wanted 'cause I worked so hard all week, so I got Ezra a pony.  It's the best one.  Don't have any scratches on it.  I checked 'em all.  Maybe he could play with it 'cause he can't go play with Chaucer."

Katie shyly displayed the handkerchiefs she had chosen.  "He likes these kind so I got him some."  She held the fine lawn cloths carefully, as if she could harm them with lesser treatment. "Mama says they come from England which is a long way away  -- all the way around the world. They got posies on the corners."  She pointed to the little design. "I like posies."

Billy frowned.  "I don't have anything to bring but I wanted to see him just the same."

JD smiled at the three, and adjusted his sling. "Well now, Ezra’s sure gonna like these things, but he's just not feelin' so good yet. Maybe he'll be better tomorrow. He needs to rest easy for a spell.  You kids can be awful loud and Ezra just ain't up to it." He nodded toward the nearby clinic window. The window was shut, against the noise of the street.

"I'll be quiet," Katie whispered.  "I won't make any sound."

Paul and Billy both nodded their head, their lips sealed and their eyes searching JD's for approval.

JD sighed and squatted down beside them. "I'm sorry, but he's just too sick right now.  If you want, I can bring these nice presents up to him…"

Paul shook his head violently, clutching the clever little pony to his chest and, with his mouth still tightly shut, stepped back.

"No thank you, JD," Katie said, her voice so low that the young man could barely hear it.  The two Potter children tiptoed away down the boardwalk, carefully clasping their gifts.

Billy turned to JD and said, "They gave up their candy money so they could get somethin' for Ezra.  I think they want to give it to him their-own-selves.  What's the point of givin' something to someone if you can't see him enjoy it?"  And then he headed after his friends, with the same quiet tread.

JD sighed as he watched them walk softy away.  He was just turning to go when a large woman suddenly stepped into his path, forcing him to a standstill.  He gasped in surprise.

"Mr. Dunne!" Mrs. Combe from the restaurant greeted.

"Yes, ma'am," JD nodded to the matronly woman, touching the brim of his hat. He tried to regain his composure from her sudden appearance. He found he was breathing hard and sweating. Dang, he thought, that woman could scare a man. "Can I help you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest.  "Mr. Dunne, would you please let Mr. Jackson know that I've got a whole mess of pecans ready."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I got them in this morning and I'm just waitin'."

"Yes, ma'am."  JD paused, but Mrs. Combe nodded and then turned to go. JD puzzled and then asked, "I'm sorry, ma'am, what are you waitin' for?"

She stopped and looked at Dunne as if he were a simpleton. She smiled condescendingly and said, "The pie, lad.  Mr. Standish will be wantin' some pie when he's feelin' better.  I don't aim to make it too soon because I know how things disappear, but I don't want Gloria sneaking in one of her pumpkin pies before I've had a chance."

JD frowned.  “I don’t know about that.”

“Gloria is always bragging about her pumpkin, but it’s nowhere near as good as my pecan.  Knowing her, she’s probably already baking one with no regard if it’s the right time yet or not. Me, I have the common decency to get approval first.  So, Mr. Dunne, I’m letting you know. I only ask that you come to me first once he's ready to eat something a little special.  I’ll send Mabel over with one right away.”

JD sighed.  “Gee, Mrs. Combe, I’m not sure about that.  He still ain't feelin' too good so…"

Mrs. Combe's smile fell.  "Oh the poor dear, still so sick.  It's been days now."

"He got hurt pretty bad."

"Still," Mrs. Combe's lip filled out in a pout.  "Pie…." And she headed back to her restaurant.

JD smiled to himself as he watched her bustle across the street. Even before the Clarion hit the street, people had been stepping forward, inquiring about Ezra, expressing their good wishes, saying that they were glad he was back, asking about what they could do for him.  After the story was published, the inquiries only increased.  The regulators could hardly walk down the street without being accosted.

Even those detractors that had voiced their concerns earlier, had changed their tunes. Everyone, with a few exceptions, was suddenly on the gambler's side, ready to support him, quick to mention that each of them had been behind him through everything.

JD shrugged, unable to understand some people, as he headed into the saloon. He spotted Nathan and Josiah eating at one table, and joined them. "The kids were askin' about Ezra," JD said as he sat. "Wanted to know when they could see him."

Nathan sighed.  "I don't know, JD.  He's just not up to that right now.  I think he'd scare 'em if they went up there.  He looks like hell and don't want to talk to no one."

JD nodded unhappily.  "And Mrs. Combe wanted to know when she should bake up a pecan pie."

Josiah smiled, remembering how Ezra always brightened at the mention of Mrs. Combe's pecan pies.  He recalled the dinners they had shared together at her restaurant.  The proprietress would come by after they’d finished their plates and ask them if they wanted dessert.  Ezra would raise an eyebrow and that told Mrs. Combe everything she needed to know... 'only if it's your pecan pie'. She also was known for delicious apple dumplings and lemon cake, but Ezra would have nothing to do with either sweet -- it was pie or nothing.

"He just don't care about anything," Nathan said with a sigh. "Mrs. Potter sent up one of hers earlier and he didn't even look at it."

Josiah shook his head.  "He's got no spirit whatsoever.  It's as if he's not even trying to get better."

“He's breathing better, but that fever of his is something fierce. Not high, but I just can't get him to lick it. I don’t know why he ain’t improving,” Nathan commented.  “He’s got every reason to. He takes anything I give him.  I’ve never seen him more… well... complacent.” Nathan grimaced and banged down his mug.  “Don’t know why that doesn’t make me happier.”

JD nodded.  “I read him that story Mary printed, but he didn’t seem to care. I don’t know if he heard a word of it, but he thanked me when I was done readin’.”

Nathan shook his head.  “Doesn't even argue when I give him laudanum.  Usually, we fight the whole thing through.  Takes it now like a lamb now.  Still gets sick on it sometimes, but don't fight at all.  At least he's sleeping sound."

“He gets nightmares when you give him laudanum,” JD said with a frown.

Nathan sighed.  “At least he’s sleeping and he needs that rest to kick the fever. He should be gettin' better, but just can't." Nathan's gaze caught JD's bandaged arm. "How's your arm doin'?  We should probably check it later today."

"It's okay." JD self-consciously pulled on the sling.  Ezra and Buck got hurt a lot worse than he did. There was no reason to fuss about this small wound. Nathan didn't fuss about Vin's nick… why should he be so concerned about this one?  "It ain't nothin'." It ached, but Ezra was in a lot worse shape.  He touched the bandage and remembered the time when he had been shot in the gut, remembered when he had been knifed, when he'd been beaten by the Nichols brothers.  He’d gotten better after those incidents.  Hurt like hell, but he’d gotten better.  Ezra would have to get better, too.

"You find out what happened to those crates yet?" JD asked to change the subject.  “You know, all the belongings that he had boxed up and sent to him in Ridge City.

Josiah rolled his eyes.  "Ezra still can't remember what happened to them. He recalls receiving the boxes, but doesn't know where they are now. We sent out a telegram to see if they were stored anywhere logical under his name, but no one could locate them."

"Tried using the names Smith and Simpson too.  Anything with initials 'ES'," Nathan added.  "No luck. Probably got a passel of other names he uses though.  At least we found his tack box at Creel's old camp. His other stuff wasn't there."  The camp had been searched the day after the round-up of Creel's men and nothing of note had been found.  Apparently Creel was very careful with anything that might have been noted as evidence. The lawmen of Ridge City had thought they'd found a gold mine when they located Creel’s safety-deposit box at the bank, but it contained only money, some jewelry and a Jules Verne novel.

"Ah dang," JD mumbled.  "I wanted to get his room all set up again so he'd be able to go back to it soon. Wish we knew what happened to his stuff.  It don't seem right that Ezra's home and all his personal things are all boxed up somewhere."  JD kicked at the leg of the table in frustration.  "Thought maybe it'd make him feel better to know that his home was put back together, that he had somewhere to go."  He looked up at the others.  "Everyone needs someplace to go."

Part 23:

Ezra was aware of the passing of time. He heard the clock tick by the seconds and every 'tock' seemed to nail him tighter to the bed.  He blinked unhappily at the ceiling, waiting.

How much time had passed? He wasn't sure.  He was only aware that it passed him.  It was night and it was day and then night came again and again. The words still haunted his dreams, echoing through his mind. He'd have to heed them soon. He’d have to go.

He'd been awake for some time, listening. The room was quiet, except for the ticking. He closed his eyes slowly and exhaled. He'd only have to wait for a little more time to pass, wait until he was feeling a bit better, and then he'd go. He had to go.

Vin had told him that Chaucer had been returned, and the saddle, too. The tack box had made it back yesterday, so at least Chaucer could be properly attended to.  He'd just have to walk to the livery and he'd be gone. He'd start a new life in a new place -- away from these strange desires to be a lawman.  It had all been a ruse, hadn't it?  -- all a parlor game?  He was never meant to lead that sort of life.  He was raised to be a gambler, a con man, a deserter, a traitor.  It was time he returned to that life.

Lord, he didn’t want to go.  He’d been happy, had felt as if he truly belonged, that he was part of something good and worthwhile.  He had enjoyed the friendships, the appealing warmth that came from helping others – but it was all for naught, wasn’t it?  Nobody wanted him here.

It was time that he started moving again.  Already, it was easier to breathe.  What was holding him back?  Tentatively, he lifted his hand and tried to roll onto his side.  It was harder than he thought.  He just couldn't get his weight shifted enough to pull himself over. Every movement tugged at his damaged chest, taking his breath away.

"Wait," he heard a voice near him.  "Lemmie give you a hand, Ez."  It was Vin.

The tracker careful helped him to move onto his side.  Pain grabbed at him and he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.    "That better, Ez?"  Vin's voice was soft, friendly as he moved from him.  "Your back gettin' sore?  Let me get some pillows set up so you can lean back on 'em."  And he rearranged the pillows and settled Ezra on them. "That okay?"

"Yes," Ezra responded.  "Thank you, Vin."

"Glad to see awake and not tossin'."

Had he been tossing?  Lord, had he spoken aloud?  He hoped he hadn’t revealed his plan. They'd only try to thwart it.  Why?  He couldn't quite come up with the answer to that question.  Why would they stop him?

The tracker sat down on the chair beside him and gazed back with sorrowful eyes. Ezra realized that he must have caused some definite trouble to make Vin so mournful.  He'd leave soon and thus remove that problem.

"You feelin' hungry or anythin'?"  Vin asked.

"No, Vin," Ezra replied.

"Nate’ll be back.  I sent him off to get some lunch for himself.  He'll want to see how you're healin' when he gets back up here," Vin told him. "Josiah’s been here all day, too. I finally got him to go so that he’d keep an eye on Nate. Thought maybe we could talk a bit before they got back, huh?"

Talk?  There was no more time for talk. "M'tired, Vin."

"I know," Vin sighed. He pressed the palm of his hand against Ezra's forehead and frowned. "Ain't kicked that fever yet." Ezra gazed back at him complacently.

"It doesn't want to leave me," Ezra replied.

"Don't worry, Ez.  We'll get this licked."  Standish was still so warm -- not a dangerous high heat, but a constant and relentless fever. Ezra had been muttering and tossing earlier and Vin had caught bits and pieces of what Ezra said.  He had seen the despair etched in his friend's pale face.  He had tried to wake him, but the laudanum kept him down. No wonder Ezra hated the drug so much.

Gotta get Nate to lay off the laudanum, Vin thought.  Don’t need Ezra to be so torn up in his dreams.  Nate kept saying that it helped him sleep, but the sleep that Vin had observed lately didn't look very restful.

"Maybe, you'd like some company, huh?  A new face maybe? I hear some of the folks in the town would like to see ya."

Ezra grimaced.  No, he couldn't face these people.  What would they say?  "No, Vin.  I'm… I'm not up to it," he replied softly.

Again Vin frowned.  It wasn’t like Ezra to be so sullen and withdrawn. If he could just lick this fever, if he just could feel a bit better, then things would be okay.  Ezra seemed stuck in this relentless place, unable to improve.  The worst of it was that he seemed so hopeless.  Ezra always fought when he was ill.  He hated being stuck in the clinic, hated the weakness that came with sickness.  This was the first time that Vin had ever seen Ezra so utterly given up to his illness.  It was almost as if he preferred it this way.

"Okay, no one need come," Vin responded. "There's lots of folk that'd like to talk to you though."

‘Yes,’ Ezra thought, ‘I'm sure they do.  They need not worry.  I won't be here much longer.  As soon as I'm strong enough, I'll go.’ 

Not getting a response, Vin tried a different question.  "You figured out where you put those boxes yet?"

Again, they were asking about the boxes.  "I can’t quite say, Vin," he replied.  The crates were safely stored under an assumed name.  They'd stay put until he sent for them. He'd only need to get a little better and he'd go.  Once he reached his new destination, he'd send word to forward them -- after a slight alteration in contents. It would be simple.  He'd start over.  But he was so tired. His arms didn't want to move and the fever tugged at him, keeping him down. He felt even weaker as he contemplated leaving. He gazed back at Vin, sorry that he’d have to leave a friend – all his friends -- but it would be for the best.  It would be better for everyone, wouldn't it?

"Wish you could 'member," Vin said with a sigh.  He nodded to the sleeping ladies' man. Buck was supposed to leave the clinic earlier that day, but he'd hung around to get another nap. After a moment, Vin smiled as he remembered something.  "He took up your room while you was gone. Brung a few of his lady friends there.  I think they like the feather bed an awful lot." He grinned, expecting a look of horror and disgust from the gambler.

Instead Ezra just closed his eyes.

Vin tried again, "You mayn't be able to get 'im outta there if you don't do it soon."

"It doesn't matter," Ezra muttered quietly.

Vin sat up stiffly in his chair.  "What'd you say?"

"He can keep it."

Vin bent over the gambler. "You don't want that skirt-chasin' son-of-a-bitch in your bed, do you?  Hell, he could have crabs or the clap and you wouldn't want that sorta stuff near ya."  Come on! he demanded, give me some sort of a reaction!  But Ezra didn't open his eyes. A noise behind him made Vin turn.

Wilmington was looking back at him, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "What'zat, Vin?" he muttered. "You talkin' about me again?"

Vin responded,  "Didja hear what he said, Buck? He don't care what you been doin' in his room."

"Brought a couple of the ladies there while he was gone."  Buck yawned and stretched and grimaced again when he felt his injured leg.  "Just the nicer type, mind you. They appreciate a comfy bed. I just brought them there so it’d look like I was usin’ the room."

"The fool said you could have it!"  Tanner glanced back at Ezra who seemed to be listening in a disinterested way.  "Said you could take the bed."

"Now, you know," Buck said, yawning again.  "Ezra probably wants a new one, seein' that I took liberties there.  Probably thinks it ain't proper anymore."

"That it, Ez?"  Vin asked.

Ezra mumbled, "I'm so tired, Vin. Let me be."  And he fell back to sleep, or at least the semblance of it.

"Come on, Ez.  I ain't done talkin',” Vin pleaded disconsolately, as he gently shook Ezra's shoulder, but Ezra didn't open his eyes again.

"What'd you call me, Tanner?" Buck said, wrestling himself into a sitting position. "Seem to remember somethin' ill bein' spoken of me."

Vin sat heavily in his chair and watched Buck yawn and stretch and frowned as his leg pulled painfully.  "Don't have the clap, Vin," he muttered as he rubbed his face. "Mighty poor way of talkin' to a man when he's asleep. They say names don't hurt…but …ouch!” Buck shook his head and smiled to show that he was just kidding the tracker, understanding the reasons behind Vin's outburst.

Vin looked from Buck to Ezra and wondered.

Part 24:

Chris walked down the street with a slow tread.  He had just left Nathan and the healer gave him the same bleak news.  Ezra hadn't improved.  He should be getting better, but instead he just stayed in the same miserable state of fever and weakness. It just didn't seem right.

‘Why aren't you getting stronger, Ezra,’ Larabee thought as he walked down the street. For five days, Ezra languished in the clinic -- pale and weak and sick. The wound was healing nicely; his breathing was much better; he took whatever remedy Nathan forced on him, but still he gained no ground.

It just wasn't right.  There was nothing fair about this.  At least Creel and his men would be tried soon.  The judge would arrive and maybe they’d be able to rid themselves of that set of thorns.  His hands clenched at the thought of Max Creel, anxious to see the end of that man.

He wished he had something that could definitely put Creel behind bars for good, to see him to the gallows. He hadn't been able to hold a long enough conversation with Ezra to get all the facts, and so far all they had was Ezra's word. He wasn't sure if that was going to be good enough for Judge Travis, and that alone was reason to be annoyed. ‘Ezra's word must be worth something,’ he thought.

Larabee trod down the boardwalk with a heavy gait, hoping that they soon were able to break Ezra out of this state.  He seemed to sink deeper into a mire every day and if they weren't able to pull him back soon, Larabee was afraid they'd lose him.

‘Why ain't you fightin', Ezra,’ Chris thought as he treaded the boardwalk. ‘Why ain't you getting better?’

"I see you still got Mary Travis printing up whatever you please," Mr. Conklin muttered as Larabee walked passed.

Chris stopped and backtracked until he was beside the respected townsman. "Excuse me?" the gunslinger asked, his voice displaying his disgust with the man.

Conklin held a copy of the Clarion.  "She didn't even bother to ask me what I knew about this, and I have plenty to say."  He pointed to the story she had written about Ezra and Creel.

"And what do you have worth sayin'?"  Chris had a bad feeling about what would come next.

"I saw Standish and those outlaws in Ridge City.  I saw plenty there."

"Yeah," Larabee prompted, bringing Conklin under his glare.

Conklin stuck out his chin.  "I told Standish what I thought about him.  How I thought he was a disgrace and we were glad to be rid of him. I let him know exactly what the town of Four Corners thought."

"You spoke for the town?" Larabee questioned.

Conklin sneered.  "Yes sir, told him that we always figured he'd come to no good. Told him that we were all thankful that he left, that we celebrated it. Told him that you and the others were glad he was gone, that you were better off without him.  Told him exactly what we thought." Conklin's eyes went wide as Larabee snatched him by the collar and shoved him into the wall.

Chris growled through his teeth.  "You spread your own filthy opinion on everyone?"

Conklin let loose a frightened little "Eeep!" as Larabee lifted him from the ground. His hands tried to pry Larabee's from his jacket.  "I was just saying what I thought…"

Larabee returned,  "You spoke for the whole town?  What else did you have to say?" He shoved the man against the wall again, trying to remember that Conklin was an elderly man and would break easily

"I said that nobody wanted him around here, that we were glad to see him gone, that you were glad!"  Conklin was babbling now, his eyes wide with fear.  "I told that none of you ‘lawmen’ wanted him here.” He saw Larabee’s eyes widen and he added, “I told him that we agreed with you!  We agreed with everything you said when you cut him loose!" He tried a smile, thinking that the statement would save him.

Instead, he saw a look of regret pass over Larabee's face.  The gunslinger let loose his hold and dropped Conklin, then took off toward the clinic.

Angrily, the well-respected and long-term resident of the town straightened his clothing.  "I said that I agreed with you," he muttered.

Part 25:

Tanner saw Larabee storming his way.  He caught the gunslinger by the arm and stopped him before he made it to the stairs.

Chris gave him a vivid glance, growling, "I just talked to Conklin.  That son of a bitch told Ezra that the whole town believed what I said.  I got to set Ezra straight."

“Conklin?” Vin sighed.  "That'd explain things a bit. I figure ol’ Ez has gotten his ears filled a bit too often lately."

"Dammit!" Chris cursed loudly, drawing looks from some of the people on the street, sending them scurrying.  One man almost ran into JD.

Vin paused a moment before he added, "Ezra’s fixin' on leavin'."

"What?" JD's voice joined the conversation. He strode up to them in alarm. "Leavin'? No! How could he?"

"What do you mean, Tanner?" Larabee added.

"He asked after his horse and saddle. First thing out of his mouth when I come back," Vin informed them.

"Aw, that's just about Chaucer. You know he'd be concerned about his horse," JD shrugged off the idea.

Vin continued, "Won't tell us where all is stuff is stored."

"He doesn't remember, Vin," JD countered.

"Seems to remember everythin' else.  Some things he remembers too clear." Tanner sighed. "Told Buck that he could keep the room. Didn't care about the bed."

"Oh, gosh," JD exclaimed.  "I can't see Ezra givin' up his bed."  Chris just increased his frown.

Vin sighed.  "Said a few things when he was dreamin'."

JD looked crushed. "What sort of things?"

"Nothin' good.  Pretty much thinks he's no better than crap, that nobody wants him around."

Larabee nodded tightly and said, "I'll get this settled.  At least he's too sick to get around yet."

"Maybe," Vin started and then seemed to think a minute before continuing, "Ya wonder why he hasn't gotten any better? He’ll usually do anythin’ he can to get out of that clinic -- fight Nathan the whole way. He hates t'be sick."

"He's awful hurt, Vin," JD answered.

Vin didn't look convinced.  "Heads to his room or to the saloon or onto the roof."

Chris smiled slightly.  "He just doesn't have it in him right now, Vin."

"When he gets t'feelin' better, he's fixin' to leave," Vin stated and then added. "But, it seems to me, he doesn't really want to go."

Chris closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as he came to the realization.  "That stubborn fool."

"What?" JD asked, looking between the two for explanation. "What d'ya mean?"

Chris looked toward JD and stated, "He's convinced himself that he's gonna leave when he gets better… so he’s just not going to improve. -- so he doesn't have to go."

"Oh, no," JD responded, knowing that Ezra would do pretty much anything that he set his mind to.

“Damn him."  Larabee kicked at the wood of the boardwalk.

"We gotta do somethin' about that, Vin, Chris," JD turned a pleading look on them.  "We can't let him go on thinkin' like that.  Hell, he'll end up dead if he don't try to get better. He looks half-dead now.  And if he does get well, he'll leave town.  We can't let that happen."

"I ain't gonna let it," Chris declared and started toward the clinic.

"Chris," JD cried.  "I gotta do somethin' to help.  What can I do?"

Chris regarded the young sheriff and said, "You'll think of somethin'."  He started up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

Part 26:

Buck and Josiah flinched when the door slammed open and both men reflexively grabbed their guns to meet the intruder.

Buck smiled and shook his head when he recognized Chris at the door.  "You shaved a year or two offa my life there, Larabee," he muttered, returning his gun to the table.

Josiah chuckled and glanced to Ezra to make sure he was okay. The gambler just gazed lethargically toward the newcomer. He didn't seemed startled at all by the sudden entrance -- that in itself was a reason to be worried.

"Buck," Larabee started tersely. "How’re you feelin'."

"Full of piss and vinegar," Wilmington said with a wide grin. He was already dressed and ready to depart, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. Nathan had split a pair of pants, so that one leg exposed his bandaged wound, allowing for easy access. "Nate says I can get goin’ soon, so…"

"Josiah." Chris nodded to the preacher. "Why don't you get Buck out of here."

Josiah tried to form an opposition, but saw the intense look on Larabee's face. "Buck," Sanchez said as he stood. "It looks like you're in for a change in scenery."

"Damn it, Chris, I wanted to stay and…" Buck started, but he too noted the Larabee glare. "Best be goin' then."

Josiah helped Buck to his feet and the preacher steered him over to Ezra's bed before they headed out.  "Hey, hoss," Buck said as he balanced on one foot. "You start gettin' better now. I ain't gonna be able to handle those stairs for a while so I won't be able to get back up here. You'd best be the one comin' on down soon."

"Goodbye, Buck," Ezra said softly. His statement had a note of finality about it. "Thank you for your company."

"Now, Ezra," Buck continued.  "I'll be waitin' for ya. Don't you disappoint me none."

Ezra sighed in response, looking resigned.  ‘Too late,’ he thought.

"I'll be back, Ezra," Josiah promised, and then looked to Larabee. "After Chris is done with you."  ‘Lord, let Chris help him,’ Josiah prayed.  ‘Nothing we have done has helped to heal our brother.  Please, let Chris do something.’ 

Sanchez helped Buck hobble to the door and then the two gracelessly made their way out of the room.

Chris stood a moment beside the bed, looking down at Standish. Ezra looked so wasted away, so pale and tired, worn out like an old rag. How am I going to fix this situation? Larabee thought. How could mere words fix this? It’s words that did this – the bullet was just the capper. I can't take back what I said. Anything I say now will just fall flat. Ezra had been run to the point of exhaustion, living on little sleep and poor food in a hostile environment, listening to nothing but vitriol. It was no wonder he was sick, no wonder he'd fallen into this horrible depression.

Chris pulled the chair beside the bed and sat down heavily. "Damnit, Ezra," he muttered and heard Ezra sigh. He seemed to be expecting such a response.  Larabee grimaced. "You know, Ezra, we were just playin' parts."

Ezra smiled thinly, his lips were almost colorless, his face as pale as the pillow.  "I'm well aware of the situation, sir. I have played parts before. Some I have taken more to heart than others."

"You know that I didn't mean anything that I said."

"Of course not, Mr. Larabee. It was all for show."

What the hell was he going to say? He wanted to spit and shout and smash things -- to yell at Ezra for even considering leaving -- for believing those damn words -- for putting up with Ludlow and Creel and damned Conklin. He wanted to throw a fit over the situation Ezra'd been thrust into. He wanted to scream at him for his underhanded plot of staying sick and dying away just because he didn't want to go -- for not fighting. What the hell are you thinking? he wanted to shout. He wanted to shake the damn con man until he rattled some sense into him.

As he gazed back at Ezra's defeated expression, he knew that that'd be the absolute wrong way to handle this. Ezra slowly looked away as if it took too much strength to even gaze in Larabee's direction, as if he hadn't the fortitude to face him.

Chris leaned forward in the chair, and said nothing immediately. Ezra blinked at the ceiling, waiting as a prisoner waits for his execution.

Chris spoke softly, "This was wrong from the start.  I made a bad decision. Said all the wrong things. Should've kept a watch on you at least. Should've had the sense to pull you out of that situation."

"But…" Ezra turned his head toward Larabee, his eyes wide, looking unnaturally large in their sunken sockets.  "Pulled me out?  But, wasn't I doin' well? What did I do wrong?  I gained the goal we sought. I performed my task satisfactorily, didn't I? I did everything I could… I tried, I truly did. Wasn't it good enough?"

Chris was taken aback. The lost look on Ezra’s face spoke volumes. Standish was expecting an admonishment. He offered the questions, seeing nothing but a slap in the face as a response. "Please," Ezra continued, "Let me know how I failed."

"Hell, you didn't fail, Ezra," Chris finally responded and saw the relief in Ezra's face. "My God, you did a good job -- exceptional."  He laid a hand on Ezra's shoulder, feeling him tremble with his fever.  "It was me that screwed up -- not you."  He could see the unguarded relief, the almost joyful look on Ezra's face. Was it so simple? Was that all he needed?  A little praise?

Ezra listened, and the doubts started to fall away.  It was all a game, wasn't it? A play?

"You did it right, Ezra. You saved the town. The people are grateful to you for that."

"But I have heard from a reliable source…" Ezra started, but was quickly cut off.

"And if you listen to a bastard like Conklin again, Ezra, and I swear, I'll kick your ass halfway across this town,” Larabee snapped angrily.  Then, he added in a softer tone, “Every day that you were gone I got folks saying that I'd better give you another chance, hear your side.  They were on my tail for treatin' you so bad."

Ezra looked stunned, he followed Chris with bright eyes and Larabee thought he finally saw some color return to Ezra's face.  "They did?" Standish asked in amazement.

"Do you doubt me, Ezra?"  Chris inquired sternly.

Ezra thought carefully. "No, sir," he replied.

"Don’t give up on me, Ezra. I screwed up on this one and I won't accept you sufferin' anymore for it."  Chris met Ezra’s eyes again and reiterated. “You did a good job, Ezra.”

So simple, just a little praise, a little recognition. Ezra was already sitting up slightly in his sickbed, listening intently.

“You ain’t leavin’,” Chris added. “These past two months just proved the fact that we need you here.” Then he said, after thinking a moment, "This is your home, Ezra."

Ezra was trying to form a response when the door opened and Vin poked his head in.

The tracker looked at the scene and smiled.  "I think you'd better open the window," he said quietly.  "JD got an idea and…" He shrugged.

Chris looked curiously at the tracker as JD and Nathan pushed through the door, revealing Josiah and Buck behind them.  The ladies' man was still leaning on the preacher, having never left the upper story.

Chris was intrigued and walked across floor.  When he reached the window, he peered out cautiously, and looked puzzled for a moment.  He smiled and shook his head as he opened the window, letting a fresh breeze fill the stale room.

JD hurried beside Chris and said, "It was real easy. I hardly had to do anythin' but come up with the idea."

He peeked out the window before looking back toward the bed.  "Ezra," Dunne said seriously. "People 'round town have been mighty worried 'bout you. They all know now what you did to save them and they're awful thankful for that. They've been wanting to let you know. Problem was that you weren't feelin' good enough for visitors. They've been hopin' you'd be able to come downstairs soon so they could tell you personally, but you ain't been up to that either. Finally, I had this idea and I started askin' around to see if anyone was interested and they all said 'hell yes.'  Not one said 'no'. They all started tellin' everyone else and it only took a few minutes before…"

"JD!" Buck called from the doorway.  "Just let 'em do what they wanted to do.  I can’t stand here all day, dammit!"

"Let me talk, Buck," JD replied sharply and then returned his attention to Ezra. "The people from the town just wanted to welcome you home and to thank you for keepin' 'em safe.  Since this whole plan was like a theatre play, what with you and Chris and all of us playin' parts and sayin’ lines, I thought there was one really good way of showing everyone's appreciation."

Ezra watched in confused fascination as the young sheriff gestured out the window. Immediately following the signal, a sound arose from beyond the window, a sound that might have been mistaken for a heavy rainfall or corn popping on the fire.  Ezra held his breath as the sound increased in volume…applause.  From below the clinic's window, a crowd applauded.

He was shocked when the sound erupted near him.  JD started clapping near the window, followed after a moment by Chris and then Nathan, Vin and Josiah.  Buck wedged himself between Josiah and the doorway and added his own applause.

Ezra turned his bewildered look from one man to another, hearing the clapping that continued to rise from outside the window.  People were hooting and stomping their feet on the boardwalk.  He could hear cheering -- children's voices high, and men's voices low -- whistling and shouting.  So simple a thing, really, but so powerful.

His friends, standing there in the room, met his eyes as he gazed at them.  They didn't seem embarrassed at all by the display, as they cheered and added to the noise.

Part 27:

"Ah, here t'is," Ezra said, standing stiffly and leaving the table behind him.  He could hear Nathan cursing as he caught up with the gambler.

"Ezra," Nathan complained.  "You gotta move slower now, you're still healin' and this jumpin' around ain't gonna do you no good."

Ezra just smiled and nodded as he pressed open the batwing doors of the saloon.  He was still rather thin and pale, and a bit unsteady on his feet.

"Mr. Standish," a man said, touching the brim of his hat as passed.

"Mr. Kovak," Ezra responded in kind and the man continued on his way.

“Slow down, Ezra,” Nathan admonished, coming up beside him.  Two days had passed since the impromptu show of appreciation and he hovered after the gambler like a mother watching a child take its first steps.

A small group of young ladies tittered nearby and he tipped his hat to them, calling them by their names. Other townspeople nodded as they continued their paths along the boardwalk.

"Ezra! Ezra!" the Potter children, who'd been playing nearby, stormed up and came to a halt before actually knocking him down.

"Dear Katherine, Master Paul," Ezra greeted them.  "I just wanted to thank you again for the wonderful gifts.  The handkerchiefs are wonderful, Miss Katherine." He pulled one from his pocket and smiled.  "The posies are quite charming. And my magnificent steed will keep me company once my room is set back to normal. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Ezra," Both children said in perfect and well-mannered synchronism.

"Ezra," Katie added.  “Mama’s been lookin’ for you!”

“Mama said that she's gonna get some stuff in from San Francisco today and maybe you want to see some of it before it goes out on the shelf," Paul got off quickly.

"Excellent. I would be more than thankful to take first crack at what she has to offer."  He lifted his head to watch the approaching wagon, as he carefully placed the handkerchief in his pocket again.  Josiah and Chris joined them outside the saloon.  "Now, please tell your dear mother that I truly appreciated the pie she sent to me.  I'm certain it aided in my recovery."

The children nodded, declaring that they would tell her, and ran back to their family store.  The women of the town had been doting on the gambler since he had started allowing visitors, and Nathan had little doubt that Ezra would start filling out his clothing again, very quickly, if they continued their ministrations.

Buck hobbling out of the saloon as Josiah spoke with a smile, "I see the rest of our brothers have returned.” And the wagon carrying Vin and JD pulled to a stop beside them. The two had left the day before to retrieve Ezra's boxes from Ridge City.  The crates could have been sent along with the next cargo wagon, but it wasn't scheduled until the end of the week and Ezra was especially eager to see their return.

"Good to have everyone back," Chris said with a nod.

"Hey, guys."  JD said brightly from the wagon seat.  "Buck, you'd better find a place to sit before you fall over."

"Hush up, cub!"  Buck growled and leaned against the wall.

“Judge here yet?” Vin asked, looking toward Chris.

“He’s due tomorrow,” Chris replied.

“See you got a gallows built,” Vin turned toward the wooden structure that stood ominously outside the jail.

Chris shrugged.  “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to show Creel what’s in his near future.”  And Vin smiled in agreement.

"You're lookin' better, Ezra." JD hopped down from his seat.  Damn right, the young man thought. He’d improved tremendously over the past two days.  Standish was wavering on his unsteady legs and Nathan stood beside him, ready to catch him if he couldn't handle it any longer, but he was upright at least. There’s a fight in him again, Dunne realized.

"He'd be better off if he kept still," Nathan groused.

"Nonsense, Mr. Jackson," Ezra said pulling on his jacket lapels.  "I'm feeling quite fit today." He returned his attention to the wagon.  "Were you able to find them without difficulty?"

"Sure, Ez," Vin drawled.  "Were right where you said.  We'd best get these boxes up to your room so you can get settled again."

"Ah, yes," Ezra responded.  "I believe that the room has been thoroughly aired, the mattress has been turned and all is now ready for me." He gave Buck a look before continuing, "Mr. Larabee would be rather interested in some of the contents of these parcels."  He smiled disarmingly at the gunslinger.  "I discovered several items that should have been sold with the rest of Creel's stolen merchandise -- a few notable odds-and-ends that ended up in my pocket somehow.  Also, I seem to have acquired Mr. Creel's personal journal." He shrugged as much as his injury would allow, looking a little bewildered. "For reasons unknown, it became confused  with my copy of Around the World in Eighty Days. An unfortunate accident for I may never discover if Mr. Fogg succeeded with his wager.  But, my loss is your gain."  And he smiled again at Larabee.

Smug bastard, Larabee thought, returning the grin. "I think I can make use of that little mishap," Larabee returned. "Thanks."

Ezra waved away Chris' last comment and turned his attention back to the boxes. “Please, let's get these settled, gentlemen.  And be careful with them. I’d help if I could, but…” he touched his bandaged chest.  “You understand, don’t you, Mr. Jackson?”

Nathan shook his head and tried to hide a smirk.

Josiah frowned when he saw the crates. "They're in different boxes," he said, remembering the containers that had left Four Corners.

"These are higher quality," Ezra replied.  He turned his head and added, “Except for that one.  It definitely isn’t mine.” A rude crate sat at the back of the wagon, with a blanket thrown over it.

“Oh,” Vin said and gave JD a wink.  “Picked up a special delivery for Conklin.”

Chris’ face darkened and Ezra moved back a half step. Nathan grabbed hold of his elbow, determined to keep him from falling.

“What the hell you doin’, boys?” Buck demanded, obviously flabbergasted.

“Honestly,” Josiah added.  “I see no reason to do the man any favors.” He glanced to Ezra, noting that he already looked a little deflated, his resolve fading.

“Conklin can rot in hell for all I care,” Chris spat out.  “Throw that on the trash heap and forget about it.”

JD and Vin both looked astonished.  “But, Chris,” JD said in a low voice.  “We wouldn’t want Baby to get hurt.”

“Baby?”  Buck and Josiah asked at once. Josiah and Nathan both looked puzzled and Chris hadn’t lost his angry expression.

Ezra moved away from Nathan and leaned over the box.  He sniffed experientially and then stepped back quickly, chuckling.  “Baby, I take it, is some form of polecat?”

“Shhhh!”  JD chided.

“You boys caught a skunk?” Buck hissed out, stepping further from the box.

“Vin got her drunk. That’s how we got her so easy,” JD told them.

“Skunks like beer,” Vin said matter-of-factly.

“Just had to get her nice and happy, then put her awful gently in that there box. She’s been sleepin’.”

“Figured we’d spring her on Conklin in a bit, when she starts comin’ 'round.” Vin shrugged.  “Seems a mighty poor way to treat a skunk, but Baby will get over it.  The other skunk will stink for a bit."

Buck laughed.  "But boys, we already got his outhouse rigged."

Vin and JD looked questions at the other men and Josiah whispered, "He's not going to fall in, he'll just have the scare of it."

Nathan rolled his eyes and added, "It's not as if I'd want to treat him afterward. I just hope he doesn't hurt himself opening that skunk-box."

Ezra looked astonished as everyone laughed, and voiced, "Lord help him."

"The Lord is about the only one who would," Josiah assured. "Not many folks in this town will stand up for the man anymore. Seems a bit less friendly a place for him."

Ezra smiled widely, looking like his old self again.  "Gentlemen,” he said, "Let's get ready for the festivities!  Perhaps there's a way I may lay odds on the outcome.  A wager might be forecoming?"

Vin gave Ezra a slap on the back and said, “We'll get you settled first, then get ready for the show.”

“Please, it would be quite… satisfactory to be settled in my room once more.  I'll unlock the door." He walked away, a bit stiffly, a little slower than usual.

"Good to see him feelin' better," Vin as he carefully pulled the first box to the tailgate, keeping it far from Baby’s crate. He rubbed his scraped arm and winced.  “’Fraid I won’t be able to help with the toting.” And the tracker turned his gaze on JD.

JD moaned slightly as he slumped against the wagon.  “Yeah, my arm's been achin’ a bit on the drive home.  Seems you all will have to deal with the boxes.”

Larabee snaked out an arm, grabbing Buck by the elbow.  He shrugged his apology to the remaining two.

Josiah sighed and Nathan looked suspicious, but both grabbed one of the boxes, lifting them gently off the wagon bed as they threw glances at the innocuous crate, and then started to lug them after the cardsharp.

“What all is in these things?”  Nathan gasped as he struggled.  “I didn’t think jackets weighed so much.”

“But Mr. Jackson," Ezra said, pausing at the bar, and taking the opportunity to lean against it and catch his breath. “I needed to transport my library as well.”

“Library,” Jackson grumbled, doing his best to keep the big box moving. Josiah grinned and tried to look as if his own box was equally weighted. The library was only so large, and the Standish wardrobe was extensive. All of those fancy shirts and blazers had to be packed somewhere.

Buck smiled.  "I think we got him back now,” he commented gladly.

"Transferred his stuff into new boxes.  He was makin' sure we couldn't find them," Chris commented.  "Where'd he have them hid?"

JD chuckled. "They were right at the station.  He'd paid a porter there to keep 'em until the end of the month."

Chris shook his head, knowing full well that they had sent inquiries to the train station earlier.  "So, what name did he use?

JD and Vin laughed and started to follow the others.  Vin had to give JD a shove to remind him to cradle his hurt arm.

"What's so funny?" Buck demanded, hobbling along after them with Larabee for support.

"You'd never guess," Vin said.

"Not in a million years," JD included.

"Well, I can't exactly knock you off your feet right now, boy, so just tell me," Buck grumbled.

JD snickered as he said, "Chris Larabee."

"What?" Both Buck and Chris responded.

Vin grinned.  "He had your name on those boxes, cowboy."

Chris fell back and Buck stayed with him as JD and Vin continued onward, trying to look as pained as possible.  Nathan and Josiah were patiently following Ezra up the stairs, and Standish was taking his time.  He paused and seemed to admire a painting that graced the stairway, leaning heavily on the banister, as Nathan struggled silently with his load.

"Why the hell did he use my name?"  Chris asked.

"Maybe he figured you wouldn't find 'em too quickly that way." Buck sighed as he struggled to keep his weight on his good leg.  "Maybe he figured they'd send the boxes back to you when the money ran out. Or maybe he was just waitin’ for you to figure it out. He did want you to get that journal and whatever-the-hell-else he stole."

"He's a damn fool!" Chris complained as he followed the others to the stairs.

"Yeah," Buck responded.  "But he's our damn fool."

Chris sighed.  "And what would we do without him?"

THE END – by NotTasha

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