Tom Horn shuffled the deck of cards. The five men had been playing for hours and the green eyed southern gambler had won most of the hands. Old Tom turned the cards over and studied them, checking for any marks. With a sigh, Tom once again dealt out the cards. Starting with his left, he threw one card at a time as he circled the round table until each man had five cards. Horn placed the deck on the table as each man lifted the corners of their cards. “Ante-up boys,” Horn told the men as he threw in his gold coin. One by one the other four men threw a coin in the pot.

The same drunk from two days ago sat on Horn’s left. During the last hand he had finally let slip out that his name was Samuel. The drunk glanced at the faces around the table before tilting the corner of his cards to take another look. A good hand, an excellent hand. Careful not to give his hand away, he placed the eight of clubs next to the eight of spades. He had the eight of hearts with the eight of diamonds and on the end was the five of diamonds. “Bet’ya five.”

The easterner was the next to bet, “I’ll see your five and raise it five more,” Phillip Sheridan said with a smile. He knew he had a good hand; the ace of diamonds, jack of hearts and diamonds along with the king of clubs and hearts rested between his fingers.

The young man who had introduced himself as Jackson, sitting on Phillip’s left, was the next to place a bet. With a sharp hawk-like stare around the table, Jackson placed a ten-dollar bill into the kitty. “Got ya covered and see ya ten more.”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed as he studied Jackson. The man didn’t even look at his cards before placing his bet. The gambler’s eyes roamed over to the easterner , who, when asked his name, just shrugged his shoulders. The man looked familiar, if only Ezra could remember where he had seen the him before. As for Jackson, the young man had the bearing of a military man. Ezra studied his cards; he had a winning hand with the ace of spades along with the king, queen, ten and the four of hearts. “Gentleman, I’ll see your ten and raise five,” Ezra said smoothly.

Again Tom was the last to place his bet. The white haired dealer looked down at his cards. He had the ace and ten of hearts, the ace and four of clubs with the ten of diamonds Tom turned towards the man named Samuel staring at his cards. “Well?” he asked.

The drunk threw down one card, the five of diamonds and drew the nine of spades. He tried to keep his excitement off his face, but failed as he grinned. He had four of a kind, in his mind the winning hand.

Phillip also threw away one card, drawing the king of diamonds. Phillip glanced around the table as he calculated the odds of one of the other players having kings over jacks, a hand that would win over his full house.

Jackson threw down three cards,keeping the five of hearts and clubs. He only wanted to stay in the game. Tilting the corner of his new cards, he saw three queens, diamonds, hearts and clubs

Ezra studied his cards and then threw out the four of hearts. Slowly he drew a new card, his smile never crossed his face as he looked at the jack of spades. Nothing could beat his hand - only match it.

Tom was the last to throw out a card, the four of clubs. He drew the six of diamonds. He looked over at Samuel. “Place your bet.”

Samuel stared down at his cards. His hand shook as he reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of bills. He was desperate to win a hand against the gambler in the crimson jacket. “Bet ya ten,” he grumbled as he threw in his last ten-dollar bill.

Phillip took a sip of his brandy before saying, “Well, Sirs. I see your ten and raise you twenty.” His coal black eyes turned towards the man on his left, a sheepish grin on his face.

Jackson spit out the whiskey that he was drinking after hearing the amount. He glared at the easterner and said, “I’ll see ya thirty and raise it ten,” throwing his hard earn money into the kitty.

Ezra considered the amount of money in the pot then made his decision. “I will see your forty and raise our little nest egg another ten.” He leaned back into his chair, taking a sip of his beer.

Tom looked at all the bills in the kitty and weighed it against the amount of money he had left in his pocket. Frustrated, Horn threw his cards face down snapping, “Fold, darn it.”

Samuel padded down his shirt, looking for more money. He knew he had the winning hand. Not finding any bills in his shirt, he once again pulled out the wad of bills rolled in his pant pocket. He slowly threw down several twenty-dollar bills. “See your forty and raise ya twenty.”

Ezra caught the sparkle in the easterner’s eyes as he reached in and pulled his money out of his vest pocket. Again Ezra examined the money clip with the cross swords etched on the front. Ezra’s eyes hardened. Cavalry - the man was a cavalry officer, a high-ranking officer by the looks of the silver clip. Ezra turned towards Jackson just in time to see the young man roll his eyes in disgust as Phillip said, “Let’s make this interesting, I will see your sixty and raise it up another twenty.” Phillip Sheridan sat back in his chair with a self-righteous grin on his face.

Jackson swore under his breath. The general was going to break him. Without a second thought, Jackson pulled out his money from his shirt pocket neatly tied with a blue ribbon. “I’ll see ya sixty and raise it another twenty,” he said as he threw the bills into the pot.

Ezra decided that the game had gone on long enough and said, “Gentleman, let’s finish this. I see your eighty and call.” Ezra placed the last of his money into the pot.

Samuel looked at his cards and with a grin showing his yellow teeth he said, “Four of a kind, read them and weep.” He immediately reached for the pot.

Both Phillip and Jackson threw down their cards in disgust and frustration before Ezra said, “Not so fast, my good man,” as he laid down his hand of a royal straight. Reaching out with both hands, Ezra gathered his winnings.

“You cheater, you,” Samuel yelled, pushing his chair back as he stood, backing away from the table.

“I would be very careful who you call a cheater, sir,” Phillip told the drunk, his voice low and deadly. Samuel raised his hands from his sides, his eyes full of fear as he backed further away. Turning he went to the bar and ordered a beer. Phillip never took his eyes off the southern gambler as Ezra folded the money and placed it in his vest pocket.

Ezra stared into Phillip’s dark coal eyes and said, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Another hand?” Jackson asked the gambler.

“I apologize gentleman for not indulging you further, however unfortunately I have a prior engagement,” Ezra replied as he stood. With a nod of his head, Ezra made his way out of the saloon, heading back to the Clarion.

“Well?” Jackson turned and asked the easterner.

“The young rebel plays a mean hand of poker,” Phillip remarked. His smile lit up his eyes.

“Do you think he’ll hand over the money, sir?” Jackson inquired.

“No,” Phillip answered as he pulled out his gold watch, with the US etched on both sides, to check the time. “Not much longer. What did Major Winslow have to report, Captain?”

“Nothing since last night’s report. Chris Larabee should be back in town, most likely guarded in the healer’s room by Nathan Jackson. And no, Sir, no relation,” Captain Jackson answered.

“What of Lindsey’s daughter?” Phillip questioned.

“The newspaper woman? Why would she be mixed up in all this mess?” Jackson asked.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that is where they have Christopher,” Phillip calmly stated sitting back in his chair to wait.

Ezra stood for a moment outside the saloon watching Mary Travis head in his direction, unaware that Samuel had slipped out of the saloon and was hiding around the corner in the alley. Ezra tipped his hat as Mary approached, “Mrs. Travis.” He glanced around before adding, “Chris feeling better?”

“Still sleeping. Nathan is waiting for you to return Mr. Standish,” Mary scolded. She turned and headed back over to the Clarion. Ezra stepped into the street to follow when he saw two men on horseback enter the town near the livery stables. He watched as Tiny talked with the two men, Ezra assumed giving directions and was surprised when Tiny pointed to the sheriff’s office. Two more officers. With a shake of his head, Ezra slowly proceeded towards the sheriff’s office, for the moment forgetting that Nathan was waiting for him back at the Clarion.

Samuel waited til the gambler moved down the street to head over to the stables to meet Shellburne and report where he could find Chris Larabee. He didn’t have far to go as a hand slid around his mouth. Struggling against his attacker, Samuel felt a sharp pressure enter his back. He tried to cry out as the knife was pulled out and shoved forcible back in again, he gasped once and then went limp in his attacker’s arms. Shellburne pulled the bloody knife out of the dead man’s back before he released his hold. Stepping over the dead body, he savagely advanced towards the Clarion.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Chris woke and glanced around the bedroom letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He threw the covers off when he thought he heard Mary’s scream and stood on shaking legs. He stumbled over to the rocker and grabbed his pants, and felt the back of the chair for his holster. He pulled out his colt, checking to see if it was loaded, before swinging his holster over his left shoulder. Chris stretched out his arms to guide his way as he slowly made for the door.

“Mary…Mary?” Chris called out as he opened the door and walked into the parlor. “Mary?” Chris called out again as he ran his hands along the loveseat towards the outer office. “Damn,” Chris uttered after his big toe stubbed the corner of the loveseat. The gunslinger’s head shot up as the door between the parlor and offices moved and Chris saw a shadow flicker across the hallway. Chris instantly pointed his colt towards the intruder. With his back against the hallway wall, Chris moved down the narrow hallway and quickly peeked around the door to the outer office. He crouched and moved around the door.

“Drop the gun!”

Chris stood and froze. “Let her go,” he uttered low before he dropped his weapon to the floor.

“She’s beautiful, just like your mother,” Shellburne said in a dream state, running his left hand down Mary’s tear stained face. His right hand held the bloody knife against her throat, forcing her to cry out in pain.

“Take your filthy hands off her,” Chris snarled, reaching an unsteady hand towards Mary.

“Tisk… tisk, not so fast my boy,” Shellburne said as he stepped back out of the gunslinger’s reach.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Chris growled in a low raw voice. He stumbled as he suddenly became dizzy. That voice, he had heard that voice before, but where. Rubbing the side of his forehead, Chris desperately searched his memories for answers.

“Don’t you remember me, boy?” Shellburne shouted as he reached down under his shirt and pulled out a shinning object. “Don’t you remember this boy?” Shellburne clenched a gold locket in his fist.

~Slap~

Chris’ head jerked back. He remembered. His face turned pale as he saw his mother’s locket dangling from the madman’s fist.

“As for what I want is you, son,” Shellburne hissed angrily. “So you remember me,” he said as Chris’ eyes widened in shock.

“Gettysburg…. you were at Gettysburg,” Chris mumbled. “The war is over, the south lost. Leave me and my family alone.”

“Family…family! Boy I’m your family,” Shellburne shouted. “Elena was mine, my first love. We were to be married.” Shellburne’s eyes turned wild and glossy. “My beautiful Elena, I loved her. I still loved her even after she ran away with that traitor, Tyrone. My God the man was a southerner and he fought for the Yankees and she still ran into his arms,” Shellburne shouted, losing control of his temper. “He made a fool out of me!” he paused, tightening his grip around Mary’s body. “I waited…waited for her to leave him. He went off to war like a good soldier and he left her…left my Elena to fend for herself. I went to her…my God, I went to her. I was going to plead with her to return to me…then I saw…I saw…the boy, the reflection of his father staring definitely through Elena’s green eyes and I knew I lost her forever.”

“No…no,” Chris uttered, his head snapped up as he remembered his mother’s angelic voice screaming run baby…run, wait for papa. He remembered, remembered hiding in the cupboard, staring through the crack as his mother, his mother…Papa where are you? Chris’ mind screamed with rage, his mother was dead; papa hadn’t save her, saved him. “You killed her!” Chris screamed in pain and lunge for the knife in his mother’s murderer’s hands.

“Chris!” Mary cried out as the gunslinger shoved her out of harm’s way. The knife bit deep into Chris’ left forearm forcing him to stagger back. Mary grabbed him by the waist and pulled him toward her, holding his trembling body against her small frame. The knife slashed down again and again, forcing the couple back against the desk. Mary cried out as Chris pushed her away from Shellburne’s deadly threats. Falling, the blonde woman tumbled to the floor.

Weak from the lost of blood, Chris’ legs buckled and he fell to his knees beside Mary. He shoved Mary back against the wall when Shellburne charged screaming, “I’ll kill you…I’ll kill you.”

Chris screamed in agony as the knife slashed down into his shoulder as he covered Mary with his body. The gunslinger soon felt Shellburne’s hot breath against his cheek as the crazed man whispered, “Say hello to Elena for me,” as he slashed down towards Chris’ unprotected chest.

~~Click~~

A single shot rang out, missing Shellburne’s head by inches forcing him to turn around. “You…” Shellburne yelled at the tall dark haired man standing in the doorway beside the southern gambler. “This is all your fault,” Shellburne yelled and charged the two men. Ezra instantly fired first; hitting the crazed man in the arm. It never slowed him down. His second bullet went wild and hit the door. The third shot hit its mark. Shellburne’s body jerked to the side. The forth bullet hit his chest, spinning him around. The fifth and deadliest entered Shellburne’s forehead between the eyes. He was dead before he hit the ground.

A clear and distinct voice said, “Good shot, Tyrone.”

“Thank you. Sir,” Tyrone remarked before stepping over Shellburne’s dead body to reach his son. Tyrone fell to his knees, gathering Chris in his arms and softly called his name, “Christopher.”

Chris opened his eyes at the sound of the voice calling his name, “Father, you’re here,” Chris reached up to touch his father’s face to make sure he wasn’t a ghost, “You’re here. Mary…where’s Mary?”

“I’m here, Chris,” Mary answered coming out of her shock.

“Mary, my father…” Chris’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious, his head against his father’s chest.

“Sir, let me take a look at Chris,” Nathan urged softy as he bent down to kneel at Tyrone’s side. It only took a minute for Nathan to examine the unconscious gunslinger. Mary handed him a piece of cloth to place around the wounded shoulder. Nathan finished wrapping the shoulder and looked up at the hovering faces. “The knife didn’t hit any important. He’ll be sore and weak for a while; we’ll have to be careful with his lungs - they’re still weak. But besides that, he’ll be okay after a couple of days rest.”

Tyrone glanced around the room at the men who stood by his son’s side and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for my son’s life.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

It took Chris three days to convince Nathan to let him sit outside the Clarion to soak up the sun’s rays. Chris turned his head as his father sat down in the chair next to him. “You’re leaving.” It was more of a statement then a question for Tyrone was in full military dress.

“You could always come back to Washington with me?” Tyrone asked hopefully. Mary came out of the Clarion, dressed in light blue calico and carrying a pot of tea.

“Gentleman, more tea,” Mary laughed at the disgusted look on the Larabees’ faces. She refilled their cups anyway. “Enjoy, I have to get back to my interview.” Mary stopped and looked Chris over, checking his forehead for any signs of a fever before heading back to her guest.

“Darn woman,” Chris mumbled, his eyes snapped across to his father as the older man released a loud laugh.

“I understand why you want to stay. She’s a fine woman,” Tyrone told him, again laughing out loud from the look on his son’s face.

Tyrone stood at the sound of the man coming out of the Clarion. Phillip Sheridan and Captain Jackson stood on either side of the short bearded man. The man stopped in front of Chris and reached out to shake his good hand. “Don’t get up son. I’m sorry that your father can’t stay longer, but as you know we are on a time schedule. I have to be in San Francisco two days from now for a meeting with John Sherman. The man’s been driving me crazy ever since he was appointed Secretary of Treasury. Steals my best people.” Sam Grant winked at Tyrone, turning he took off his hat to Mary. “Madam, it was a privilege to meet you. Gentleman.”

Tyrone bent and kissed Mary on the cheek and with a twinkle in his eye said, “I’ll see you soon young lady.” He moved to follow his friends.

Chris stood on shaking legs, his left shoulder and arm wrapped in white cloth, bound against his chest. “Father… I…” Tyrone turned and grabbed Chris in a bear hug.

“Son,” Tyrone whispered before he released his son. “I have to go.” He made his way to mount.

Vin and Buck waited tilt Tyrone Larabee had walked away from their friend before joining them. “Where ya headed?” Chris asked the two.

They looked at each other and said at the same time, “Saloon.” Laughing, they took a hold of Chris’ arms and helped him over to the saloon where Nathan and Josiah were waiting by the door, leaning against the posts. Ezra sat at the table outside of the door, counting his money.

JD came running up the street, waving a dime store novel in the air, yelling, “You guys are not going to believe this.” JD showed the novel to Buck and Vin. On the front was a picture of the last President, U.S. Grant. Five of the peacekeepers looked at the picture then back at the man riding the big stallion as he made his way past the saloon. They all shook their heads, No. Couldn’t be. They turned to see Chris’ eyes twinkling with mischief as he saluted the officers riding pass.

Tyrone stopped his big black and leaned down towards Ezra, “Sir, if you don’t mind, I need that money for evidence for the Treasury Department.”

One of Tyrone’s officers jumped down off his horse and grabbed his saddlebag. “Sorry old buddy,” Major Winslow laughed as he shoved the money in the bags. Winslow saluted the seven peacekeepers before mounting his horse. Tyrone’s officers turned as one as they followed President Grant out of town.

The seven peacekeepers stood for a moment before Chris broke the silence as he watched a flash of pink run under the saloon. “Ezra…about those piglets.”


The End…..

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