Mexican Standoff
By: Rhicy
Previously - after the events in 'Penance':
Silas Poplar was dead. And more than one inhabitant of Four Corners sincerely hoped his brand of trouble would never haunt the town again. The sun had set a scant couple of hours ago and the town's lights were burning brightly, as the night life awoke. There were no lights however, lit within the small church, its occupant and resident preacher was unwilling to welcome any visitors.
One friend would not be dissuaded though.
Josiah sat on the floor of the church, his eyes closed as the events of the last few days played over in his mind. An opened but untouched bottle of whiskey sat within easy reach. The big preacher heard one of the church doors open and shut as someone entered.
"Go. Away."
Silence answered Josiah's curt demand and he hoped he had put enough anger in his voice to make whoever was trespassing on his foul mood, think twice about it. A soft footfall near the pulpit drew Josiah's eyes to the vague shape in the rising moonlight. 'Apparently not' Josiah thought to himself, unable to bring himself to chase away this particular friend. Not when he owed him for so much.
"What do you want Vin?"
Vin sat down on a tool-bench, close enough for Josiah to make out his features in the gloomy half-light, his lowered hat brim casting a deep shadow over his eyes.
"Answers." The soft voice caused a shiver to run down Josiah's spine and he was glad he could not see those piercing eyes. Josiah tried to bluff his way out of answering, "You already know more than the others. What else is there?"
Vin let the silence stretch out uncomfortably, hoping that Josiah would offer more information rather than force Vin to pry it out of him. After a long couple of minutes Vin sighed and spoke softly to the troubled preacher as if the man was a skittish horse that needed to be coaxed, "I understand the need to keep secrets, Josiah. But if what I think you are hiding is true - keeping this secret could be dangerous - for us all."
Josiah contemplated blatantly denying what Vin had obviously guessed but he owed him an explanation, especially since Vin had been so vocal and open in his support of Josiah's innocence. Lying to a man haunted by his own past, a man who understood that a trust given could be used against you, felt like adding more wrong to a week filled with anger and mistrust.
Josiah blinked in the black night, fighting the darkness, trying to see Vin more clearly and sighed, "My sister is married, to Charles Temple. He doesn't know where she is, and I aim to keep it that way."
The lack of surprise in Vin's posture confirmed Josiah's hunch that Vin had indeed found this out for himself. The slight slump in his shoulders as Josiah spoke, brought brief hope to the preacher that maybe Vin understood.
"Why?"
"Why keep her hidden?" Josiah asked, grabbing the bottle as he answered, "Because Charles Temple played his own part in bringing my sister to were she is. He pushed her into confrontations with my father, encouraging her rebellion. He didn't understand that he was tearing her apart demanding too much from an already fragile spirit. Hannah suffered for her love, suffered more than their 'love' warranted."
Josiah uncorked the whiskey and took a large drink, "At first I though he might be able to get my sister away from our father. But it turned out that all he was after was her money!"
"Money?"
Josiah's laugh was nasty, filled with bitterness, "My father vaunted himself to be the richest man alive. He told anyone who would listen how much wealth he had, determined to impress his colleagues. Temple bought the story hook, line and sinker. Only, " Josiah laughed again, "Only my father meant 'heavenly' riches - blessings and virtue. He just let people think he meant money. Reverend Sanchez, Richest Man Alive!" Josiah loudly toasted his father, raising the bottle in the air and taking another gulp. "Charles married Hannah secretly and waited, waited for the money and for the riches. He got bored, too blind to see the truth and left her, left her to my father."
Vin's keen eyes saw the anger in Josiah, the mounting fury. "And when my father was dead and Hannah … like she is, Charles came looking for her, wanting his fortune." Josiah stared at the half empty bottle, peering into its depths as if it held answers he couldn't fathom. "I told him the truth - what my father had meant but he didn't believe me. He thought I wanted to keep all the money to myself. It didn't matter that I was as poor as dirt and barely able to keep Hannah in the mission, Charles wanted what our father had left Hannah. So I gave it to him."
Josiah's voice was deadly in its intensity, a low rumble vibrating with anger, "I gave him all that Hannah had ever got from our 'father'," the last word twisted with fury, "and he didn't seem to want it in the end."
Vin could well imagine what Josiah had given Charles, a lifetime's worth of beatings and punishment. Tanner stared at the big man's massive hands, not really needing to imagine what damage they could do, having witnessed their power many times. The soft, heartfelt voice that escaped Josiah was in stark contrast to the previous fury. Vin leaned closer to hear, "I let him see Hannah once and she reacted so badly that the Abbot of the mission refused to keep her anymore. That's when I had to move her to Vista City. All he causes her is pain," Josiah's voice fairly shook with emotion, "I don't want her to ever feel like that again. He mustn't know where she is - ever."
Nodding in agreement, Vin broached the core of his own quandary, "What happens when Temple finds you?"
Still filled with anger, Josiah growled, "The same as when a marshal comes for you!"
Rubbing his gritty eyes, suddenly too tired to argue with Josiah, Vin sighed, "You really gonna die to stop him, Josiah? Leave Hannah with no one at all?"
Josiah rose to his feet with a roar, smashing his bottle on the floor. Vin remained seated, by all appearances, unperturbed by the fury towering over him as he continued, "You gonna wait till he kills one of the boys in order to find out where she is?"
Josiah rushed the slight tracker, bodily picking him up and slamming him against the wall. Keeping Vin pinned Josiah shouted, "You are in no place to question me Vin! I'm not the one with a bounty on my head!"
Despite the pressure Josiah was exerting on his chest Vin said, "At least the boys know what they are getting into by being my friend."
Josiah stared at the young man before him, his blue eyes unafraid, confident in his friendship with Josiah, trusting the big man. The anger melted out of Josiah in a rush, and he put Vin down before turning away from his friend.
"You're right Vin. But I gotta ask this of you, anyway. Don't tell anyone - at all - about Hannah. Alright?" Josiah didn't look at Vin, hoping that the bounty hunter would understand and accept the compromise. The rest of the seven couldn't reveal what they didn't know.
"Alright Josiah. I reckon all of us except maybe JD have somebody gunning for us somewhere and we're all used to backing each other up. But if it comes down to this putting us in danger Josiah …"
Josiah nodded, acknowledging to himself that he would probably not let it get that far if it indeed came to the Seven being caught between him and Temple.
"Thank you Vin."
"Ya can thank me by buying me a couple of drinks, preacher-man."
Chuckling Josiah felt the last of his anger fade back into the recesses of his heart were it usually stayed buried. He followed the dim shape of his friend out of the church, more thankful than ever before that God and a few crows had lead him to Four Corners.
Present - Wednesday Morning:
"How would you like your eggs Mr Wilmington?"
"Ya know, Inez seems a mite distracted t'day."
Buck looked up from his pile of eggs and bacon and saw Nathan gingerly poking at the burnt scrambled eggs on his own plate.
"Ha! Guess Inez likes me after all cos' my eggs sure are delicious," Buck said loudly, hoping Inez would hear him and he pointedly shovelled some more food in his mouth.
"Right Buck! Either your taste-buds are dead or you're so besotted with Inez that you'd eat a cow pie if she gave it to you!" JD pointed at the flecks of burnt egg on Buck's plate, glad that he had ordered oatmeal this morning.
Buck stopped munching as his teeth crunched unpleasantly on eggshell, his face loosing its good humour. "Damn! Inez sure is distracted this morning!"
Nathan ignored Buck and continued trying to salvage his breakfast. JD watched as the healer gingerly sifted through the eggs, separating the pile into two halves, one consisting of burnt offerings and the other, more acceptable morsels.
"Just send 'em back Nate - Inez won't mind," JD suggested as he mixed more honey into his oatmeal.
"No. Inez might just mind, she nearly bit Josiah's head off when he pointed out that he hadn't ordered oatmeal and well … I'll take my chances with this."
JD chuckled, "Chicken."
Buck, who normally would have joined in teasing Nathan, remained silent. Something else had drawn his attention away from his friends. From his carefully chosen seat, Buck had a small view of the kitchen. The narrow opening allowed him to catch fleeting glances of Inez as she moved about. Without it being obvious that he was studying the lovely Mexican he spied. At that moment something solid red obstructed his view. Buck tipped his chair onto its back legs trying to see past the red and frowned when the colour evolved into a distinctive red jacket.
The idea of the owner of the jacket, being up this early, was immediately discarded, considering he had only just returned town, late last night. Buck leaned back even further on his chair, trying to see what was happening. His long legs were stretched out to their full length, his upper body poised for balance as he bent further and further back. Vaguely he heard JD tell Nathan about his plans to take Casey out on a picnic today but his attention was firmly ensconced on the kitchen. Unfortunately Buck's view was eventually obscured by the bar the further he balanced back and Buck found that he had to lean even more dangerously backwards in order to now see around the bar.
JD didn't notice Buck's balancing act until one of his boots nudged his chair as Buck precariously balanced himself. Slowly, Buck's head crested the side of the bar and at the very extreme of his stretch, two blue eyes cleared the obstruction and giving him a clear view of the kitchen.
Time stood still, held in the balance with Buck, as wobbly chair legs, unevenly distributed weight and a firm curiosity vied for dominance. Stretched to his limit, Buck was just in time to see Inez lean over and plant a firm kiss on Ezra's lips. Buck's eyes grew to the size of saucers, his moustache twitched in shock as his jaw dropped, and the hind left leg of the chair slipped a little to the right and Nathan tossed his forkful of eggs in the air as Buck crashed to the floor.
JD choked on his mouthful of coffee and Nathan glared at the state of his egg-strewn shirt as Buck shot jack-rabbit up to his feet, brushing himself off like nothing had happened. Gurgling snorts were trying to escape from JD's nose and mouth as the young man tried desperately not to spew his mouthful of coffee all over the table. But his laughter, desperate to break out, was defeating his attempt to swallow the coffee. Finally reaching a state of choking snorts, JD gulped down his mouthful and proceeded to breathlessly hoot with laughter. The ladies man stared at Inez and Ezra who were staring back at him in shock, their kiss interrupted by the loud crash of chair meeting floor, with Buck somewhere in-between.
Snapping out of his shock, Buck picked up his hat and swatted the still laughing JD. Inez covered her mouth, trying to hide her own laughter and Ezra just grinned at the flabbergasted Wilmington. Buck raised a quivering finger at Ezra and motioned to Inez, "You …. and …. HER!"
JD erupted into belly-laughs, clutching his stomach as he rocked back on his chair in glee. Nathan also struggled to hide a smile but soon burst out laughing as JD leant too far back as well and crashed to the floor, still laughing all the way down. Buck glared at his former-friend rolling on the floor and then saw his burnt eggs. The sight of the sad little pile was just too much for him and he stormed out of the saloon, JD's laughter echoing behind him.
Two days earlier: Monday - midnight in Giant Falls:
"You ladies ready?"
Inez looked up from buttoning the chequered shirt she was wearing. "Almost senor, just give us a minute."
"Best be quick about it - it's gonna go down any second now."
Inez just nodded and continued dressing not looking at her companion who was pulling on an overlarge hide-jacket. "We'll be ready."
The Dangers of Playing Poker
"There's that cheating card-sharp! Get 'em!"
The patrons of Sally's Luck Saloon scrambled out of the way, as five rough-looking men charged at the red-coated gambler who had been lining his pockets all day. Ezra leapt out of his chair and jumped up and onto the poker table, crossing its felt covered top without disturbing the large pot of money in the centre. He leapt like an agile mountain goat off the table and in a few strides, slipped through the swinging saloon doors. The five charging men skidded to a halt, one of them slamming into the edge of the bar in his haste to turn around. "After the slippery son of a …"
The rest of whatever the leader said was lost as he stepped through the doors and Ezra brought a chair over his head. Flinging the remains of the wooden chair away, the Southerner hopped off the boardwalk and prepared to meet the rest of his attackers.
"Damnit! Ned's out cold!"
The remaining four men circled Ezra, each of them eyeing the gambler who stood with his fists held in the classical boxer pose. Shuffling his feet in anticipation, Ezra waited for his attackers and then abruptly realised that he was leading with his left rather than his right and took a step back to assume the correct position. The entire saloon had emptied out, as its patrons hurried to see the fight and a few men laughed to see the fancy gambler correct himself.
The growing crowd included all of the poker players against whom Ezra had been playing. One of the players, a tall gunfighter dressed entirely in black, stood watching the scene, a glass of beer in hand.
"Mr Larabee."
Chris nodded at Ezra's shout. "Will you kindly ensure that the pot remains in tact, I will re-join you gentlemen anon."
"Sure thing," Chris drawled, taking a sip of his beer.
"You ain't gonna be able to count your own teeth let alone any winnin's, you cheatin' coward!" one of his attackers snarled and all four of them charged at Ezra.
A grubby little man ran straight at Standish, an animalistic roar emerging from his open mouth, and Ezra got a close up view of the man's rotten teeth as the slick gambler side-stepped and brought his elbow down onto the man's exposed back. The man fell to the ground in a heap but was already moving by the time Ezra turned to face the next attack. Two of the men attacked simultaneously, one man, wearing a red bandanna, reaching to grab Ezra from behind and the other, with a lazy eye, charging low to tackle Ezra.
Unperturbed, Ezra struck out with his knee, catching the Lazy Eye under the chin and sending him to the floor and seemingly without pause, he spun about and dealt the thug behind him with a vicious uppercut. The last man, a little guy with a bowler on his head, looked to be judging the best time to attack and the moment Ezra's back was turned. The attacker ran forward and jumped on Ezra's back, wrapping his surprising stocky arms around Ezra's neck.
The gambler staggered momentarily under the weight and spun around trying to dislodge the shrieking little man. Rotten teeth, who had just managed to get to his feet was knocked back to the dusty ground when Bowler's legs connected with his head. Red Bandanna and Lazy Eye managed to scramble out of the way of the battling gambler and Bowler Hat and stood on the side, waiting for chance to join in.
Ezra finally managed to toss Bowler Hat off him and ducked just in time to dodge Red Bandanna's swinging fist, the gambler replying with a successful punch to the man's gut. Lazy Eye received a boot down his shin and Rotten Teeth was knocked out with a well-aimed jab just as he managed to sit up.
On the saloon porch, the leader of the four men, Ned was coming to. Few of the cheering crowd noticed and even fewer of them noticed a surreptitious black boot sending the man back into unconsciousness. Chris Larabee double checked that Ned was definitely out before returning to watch the remainder of the fight.
Somehow Ezra was shrugging off the few blows that landed and his return attacks and defences were levelling his opponents. Not before long all four men were lying on the ground, clutching some sort of injury, moaning to high heaven. Ezra, the last man standing, looked like he'd barely broken a sweat, the resplendent gentlemen who had dispatched some ruffians without much difficulty.
"Gentlemen, I truly regret that our disagreeing opinions on the outcome of our little game have led to this fracas. Please accept my most humble apologies for resorting to such extreme manners but please be aware that any further violence sent in my direction will be dealt with expeditiously."
None of the groaning men seemed to understand Ezra, but they got the gist of his words, picked themselves up and disappeared down the street, grumbling all the way.
The crowd of spectators outside of the saloon parted to give Ezra a clear path back to his poker game. No one had really expected to see the small gambler win, let alone beat the other men so soundly. The crowd went back into the saloon, loud laughter and jeers following them. And no one seemed to notice that Ned was still passed out on the boardwalk.
As Ezra returned to his seat, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror pausing for a moment to check his hair. In the process of fingering his dark locks back into place, he noticed something truly horrifying.
There was a smudge on his shirt.
The Southerner exploded, his voice reaching volumes that Chris Larabee had never known the gambler to reach, "OH THAT JUST TEARS IT! THERE IS A SMUDGE - A DESPICABLE BLEMISH ON MY SHIRT! This shirt was handmade in Paris, from the finest and most exclusive store in the world! And those idiotic miscreants saw fit to annihilate its expertly woven silk-threads with their grubby mud-covered PAWS!"
Silence descended on the saloon as everyone turned to stare at the irate gambler. His bright green eyes were roving madly over the crowd as if he was searching for someone to blame. Several men shrank back as his stare fell on them. Ezra looked ready to explode and it was a very brave man that tempted the growing anger.
"Mr Standish, the saloon will happily pay your laundry bill, you being such an excellent customer and all ", the barkeep said calmly, from the safety of bar.
All of the anger seemed to pour out of the gambler and a dazzling smile broke across his face, his gold tooth shining brightly. "Oh that is truly marvellous, my good man. Truly marvellous." Ezra bounded down the two stairs to the gaming floor and happily made for the poker table.
Most of the saloon patrons made way for the slightly insane little gambler whose moods seem to change at the flip of a coin. Lifting his coat tails elegantly, Standish sat down at the poker table and said, "Gentlemen. Shall we resume?"
The four other players took their seats, one of them a little reluctantly. "Come now Mr Smithers, surely such a little fracas is not enough to ruin your appetite for a game of chance," Ezra drawled smoothly.
A timid little banker, on his way back east after a disastrous stay in the west, Smithers, was not at all eager to rejoin the game. It was bad enough playing poker with a gunfighter like Larabee, who looked like he was liable to shoot someone if he didn't like the way the game was going and now the gambler had proven to be an equally dangerous and disturbing man. But Smithers sat down anyway between the other two players, a rancher from outside of Giant Falls and a dark, sullen looking Mexican Don by the name of Diego de la Vega, something he had been quick to inform his co-players.
"Senor Standish, I am impressed at how easily you despatched those … ruffians."
Ezra smiled brightly at Don Diego, his gold tooth flashing as he re-dealt their interrupted hand. "Well my good Don, it pays to be able to defend oneself from such undesirable attention. Some folks seem unable to accept their loss in the face of superior skill."
"What if you ain't faced with just a bunch of angry farmers? What if it's someone a little more … experienced?"
The three other players turned to look at the gunslinger, Smithers a little nervously. Larabee had been drinking heavily all night, chasing whiskey shots with beers, followed immediately by more whiskey. He still seemed in control, despite the large amount of alcohol but had the look of someone dying to pick a fight. And after Standish's impressive demonstration, Larabee seemed intrigued by the gambler.
"Mr Larabee … Chris, isn't it?"
Chris just flashed a toothy grin at Ezra, who feigned a blank smile. "Just Larabee."
"Mr Larabee then. When faced by more 'experienced' adversaries, I find that I am called upon to … demonstrate my own abilities … in their field of expertise."
The Don and the rancher had picked up their cards, but still kept a careful eye on Larabee who was now glaring at Standish. Smithers looked positively panic-stricken as tension seemed to build between the gambler and the gunfighter.
"Abilities? You saying you're fast Standish?"
"Quite the opposite my dear gunslinger."
Chris slammed his shot glass onto the table, spilling the remains of the whiskey onto the collected pot of money and sent his chair crashing backwards as he stood up to tower over the table. "I ain't your dear - and I'm starting to think those idiots mighta been right about you being a cheat!"
The gun was in Ezra's hand faster than any man at the table could blink and it was pointed right at Chris' chest. "Mr Larabee. Please sit down. I have no quarrel with you, I merely wish to finish this game. Perhaps you wish to retire?"
Silence once again reigned over the saloon as every person stared at the confrontation. Larabee was staring wide-eyed at the gun in Standish's hand, his own guns still firmly holstered. Licking his lips nervously, Chris seemed to deflate a little, "Nope, don't reckon I do Mr Standish. Think I'll stay in - iff'n you don't mind?"
Still without re-holstering his gun, Ezra smiled genially and said, "Of course Mr Larabee, please have a seat."
Chris sat down slowly, watching as Ezra waited for him to pick up his cards before he re-holstered his gun. Smithers leant over to the rancher, whose name was Dawson and whispered none to quietly, "That was fast wasn't it?"
Dawson Janson nodded, his eyes firmly on his cards trying desperately to think of a way of getting out of this poker game with something more than just the shirt on his back.
Things seemed to settle down after that and the poker game continued. Smithers and Dawson continued to lose steadily, while the pot alternated between Larabee, the Don and Standish. Eventually Dawson won a small pot and decided to bow out immediately, having managed to recover what he had lost. And despite the fact that Smithers won the next pot, the timid banker remained in the game. Several hands later it was Ezra's turn to deal again and he took the cards from the last dealer, the Mexican Don.
Swiftly he shuffled the cards and skilfully counted each card as he ran it through his hands. Smiling to himself, Ezra wondered at the stupidity of some people. The Don had carefully marked each card, as he had the previous two decks Ezra had surreptitiously added to the game. The Don had won every hand that he had dealt and that was usually enough to have any poker player screaming 'cheat'! But the two hulking bodyguards sitting at the table behind them, dissuaded anyone from pointing out the Don's inept cheating.
"Shall we up the stakes a little?" Ezra asked hopefully, eyeing the three remaining players. Smithers seemed amiable while the Don just smiled. Judging by his clothes, the Don was a wealthy man, but one only had to look at the state of his shoes and spurs to know that he had fallen on hard times. Eager to replenish his flagging fortune, Diego de la Vega glanced at the insolent gunfighter. Larabee had lapsed into a drunken silence, having folded the last three hands almost as soon as they were dealt. He seemed reluctant to leave the game though and continued to glare at the gambler from under the brim of his hat.
"What did you have in mind Mr Standish?" Smithers asked, his hand unconsciously fingering the stack of notes in his coat pocket.
"Well, since I'm afraid this will have to be my last hand of the evening, as I must be away early tomorrow morning, I was considering increasing the ante and perhaps, the pot?"
The Don frowned, he had nothing left to bet other than what he had won during the night and now the gambler was talking about increasing all bets. "Perhaps not, Senor, not all of us, "the Don looked pointedly at Chris, "can afford such a heavy pot."
Chris just grunted and continued to glare at Ezra.
"Never fear Don Diego, I am simply suggesting that perhaps we allow 'markers' to stand in the place of our bets. I fear that I am running low on cash and will quite happily offer a signed bank draft to cover any debts."
Don Diego seemed to consider this carefully, his dark eyes narrowing as he tried to see a disadvantage to this. Any markers he himself put down would be worthless, while there was at least a small chance that the gambler would actually honour one of his own. Either way, a win favoured him. Smithers however, seemed reluctant to agree, now that he realised that Ezra was probably scheming to get him to bet his bank drafts. Larabee just nodded, playing with an empty shot glass, twisting it in the dull lamp light.
"Are you in Mr Smithers?"
Making a snap decision not to bet any of his own drafts and to fold if it came to committing anything other than cash to the pot, Smithers agreed with a small nod.
"Excellent. I'll deal."
The hand lasted a long time, as both Smithers and Larabee took their time in deciding how many cards they wanted. The pot grew to include all the cash already played and a few markers from the Don and Ezra. Smithers folded when no one called and his hand began to look poorer and poorer. "Gentlemen, thank you for the game." He stood up, tipped his hat to the players and left the saloon, a great deal poorer than he had arrived.
Ezra grinned brightly at the remaining players and said to the Don, "Your bet I believe?"
The Don was beginning to sweat. He was pretty sure his hand beat Larabee's who was scowling even more as the game progressed. If he wasn't frowning at his cards, the gunslinger was sending lethal glares at Standish. Ezra Standish however remained a mystery. The gambler gave away nothing, he had no tells, no signs of nervousness, remaining as cool as a cucumber. For all he knew, Standish could be holding four aces or the gambler had nothing at all!
Sighing, Diego de la Vega drew out an old deed, one he had no claim to anymore but neither of the men knew that. "I will bet this, senors - it is the deed to my family's Granda Vista hacienda in Mexico."
As Ezra picked up the deed to examine it, his sharp eyes caught sight of Vin walking past the saloon doors. Chris had apparently seen Vin too, his intense glare relaxing for a millisecond to acknowledge Vin's signal.
"I find this acceptable Don Diego," Ezra replied his thick Georgian accent rolling off his tongue like molasses. "I trust you will find my marker equally acceptable."
Ezra tossed in a forged bank draft for an amount that raised the Don's eyebrows in surprise. "Acceptable? Oh yes indeed."
Turning to Chris, Ezra smiled pleasantly, "Would you like to check the validity of my marker Mr Larabee?"
"Nope."
"Very well then - I see your call and call the hand."
Ezra proudly displayed a straight, aces high. Chris growled something under his breath and threw his cards on to the table. The Don however stared at his hand and Ezra's. Slowly he placed his full house on to the table and said, "Full house." Chris started to laugh and Diego couldn't believe his good fortune at actually winning the enormous pot against such a skilled gambler but Ezra's reaction surprised them all.
"WHAT?!" Ezra bolted to his feet, his eyes blazing and his gun suddenly in his hand. "You … you .. NO! It's not possible!"
The Don stared at the transformed gambler who looked as terrifying as a hungry grizzly bear and he was its next meal. The Don darted his eyes around looking for his bodyguards and saw both men passed out on the floor, drunk out of their minds. "Senor Standish … now please …" The Don raised his hands in supplication, trying to reason with the irate man.
The gun barrel wavered slightly as Ezra spluttered, spittle spraying from his mouth, "Please? You incompetent moron! You flea-infested camel-trader! I will not - I cannot conceive that such an inept, bungling imbecile can utilise sufficient grey-matter to outwit me! You … you …. you cheating scum! I can't believe …"
Whatever it was Ezra couldn't believe, the Don never found out as a scruffy-looking man stepped up behind Standish and soundly broke a bottle over his head. The gambler crumpled to the floor in a graceful heap, somehow managing to avoid a puddle of spilled beer. Chris was still laughing as he said, " 'Bout damn time you got here - he'd just about bled me dry!"
Vin looked down at the crumpled form at his feet, knocking Ezra's hat off to cover his face and said, "At least I got here." Looking up at the stunned Don who was still astounded that he had no bullet holes peppering his chest, Vin pointed the broken bottle at him and said, "Reckon you best take your winnings and get out of here before Standish wakes up."
"Wakes up?"
"Hell yes - I don't aim to be around when he comes to. Come on, Larabee."
The Don stood and started gathering his winnings amazed that the pair of gunmen didn't just shoot the crazy gambler. As if reading his mind, the slight buckskin-clad man said, "Look - you obviously don't know the guys Standish rides with - there is no way you want to tangle with them. He comes to and you're still around? Well - just remember I warned you."
Diego nodded vaguely and was escorted out by Larabee who hissed something in his ear that made the Don pale and duck out of the saloon. Chris turned to see Vin dragging one of the Don's goons towards the door. He moved to the other one and soon both men were decorating the dusty boardwalk outside. It was late and only the sheriff and his deputies were still up in Giant Falls. The saloon was empty except for the three men and Vin walked over to Ezra's inert form and nudged him. "Ya can get up, they're gone."
Ezra's eyes flashed open and he got up slowly, rubbing his head absently. "Did you really have to hit me that hard Mr Tanner?"
Vin shrugged, "Had to break the bottle."
"Yes but did you have to break it so forcibly?"
Chris checked the street for any sign of the Don, all signs of drunkenness and animosity gone. "You get them out alright?"
Vin nodded and said, "Helena and Inez are waiting for us outside of town. It's gonna take us a days ride to get back to Four Corners."
"So we better leave now." Chris said and followed Vin to the back door.
Ezra followed still rubbing his head, and he lifted his voice to shout, "Remind me why we participated in this escapade again?"
"*We* participated 'cos you offered to help Inez and then couldn't do it alone," Chris said as the trio left the saloon through the back door.
Ezra puffed out his chest in indignation and huffed, "Indeed! Rather it was your wrong-footed bungling that foiled my carefully laid plans and precipitated the need to alter my otherwise flawless scheme."
Ezra carefully ignored the glare Chris sent his way and he turned left as Chris and Vin turned right into the alley behind the saloon.
Pausing when he realised that Ezra was not following them, Chris nudged Vin to stop and hissed at Ezra who was peaking around the corner of the saloon wall, checking out the street beyond.
"Standish!"
Without turning around to look at them, Ezra called back, "Relax Mr Larabee, I merely need to take care of one little arrangement and then I will join you at the corral. Please, I won't be a moment."
"Try not to get lost Ez," Vin quipped as he and Chris left, both men fading into the shadows. Ezra risked a quick glance down the street again, before slipping down the boardwalk towards the town's bank. He reached the bank's porch, just in time to see Don Diego de la Vega ride out of town, nervously watching his back trail.
Behind Ezra a seemingly disembodied hand reached through the shadows to roughly grab Ezra's shoulder and yank him into the darkness. Shoved up against the back wall, Ezra found himself faced with the five men from his fighter earlier. And none of them looked happy.
"Gentlemen?"
One of them, Ezra thought it might have been Ned but he couldn't be sure in the shadows, checked the street before rasping, "No one saw us."
Smiling benignly Ezra drawled, "Excellent! Now - how much do I owe you fine gentlemen?"
Instantly all five faces lost their sullen glower and broad smiles broke out. The two youngest, Bob - Bowler Hat and Little Bob - Rotten Teeth, started laughing and said mock-softly, "Did you see the look on their faces when we crashed into the saloon!"
Congratulating the men on their fine performance, Ezra beamed, "Oh yes - Robert and Robert, er the smaller, I was quite taken aback myself, if I do say so."
Ned laughed as well and said, "It sure was a lot of fun, easiest 5 dollars that I ever made. And Mr Standish, you needn't have pulled your punches so much."
Ezra's face fell, his mouth falling open in protest, "Pull my punches…? But I was giving you some of my best moves."
All five men instantly agreed that yes, Ezra's punches had been very hard to take, Little Bob even declaring that, "I thought you might have broken my jaw with that one right of yours, sir!"
Mollified a little, Ezra sniffed and pressed on, "Very well - I believe that the agreed amount was five dollars a piece?"
They all nodded eagerly and watched as Ezra patted himself down, looking for his wad of cash. Frowning a little in consternation as he failed to find any cash, Ezra managed to look embarrassed as he gasped, "My good accomplices, I fear to report that the Don proved to be a better player than I anticipated and he did in fact - clean me out."
Five, very dirty, very eager faces fell and turned - very ugly. Bob started to finger the hilt of his knife while Ned spluttered, "Now Mr Standish…" The remaining nameless pair, red Bandanna and Lazy Eye looked positively murderous.
Before the mood could turn any uglier, Ezra's hand miraculously stopped its frantic search and the Southerner smiled, "Never fear good sirs, I always keep a 'little' emergency stash close at hand." Reaching into his embroidered waistcoat, Ezra removed a hundred dollar note from the safety pin securing it to his button hole. Holding up the note for the five men to see, Ezra snapped it cheerfully and watched their glowering faces light up.
"One hundred dollars," Red Bandanna gasped.
"I ain't ever seen one of those!" Lazy Eye gushed.
"Oh yes, gentlemen - one hundred dollars. And I am afraid, that is all I have. I'm gonna need some change from you …"
Immediately the men pulled out tattered dollar notes of coat pockets and wallets, Little Bob even pulling out a dollar coin from his mouth. Cries of 'I've got seven dollars," and "I thought you was broke - you owe me three dollars as it is," along with, "All I got is a ten and all Little Bob has is a dime and two dollars!" floated around the gambler.
As their confusion grew as to who needed to give what, Ezra solved the problem by neatly taking the accumulated small change and dollar notes and handing Ned the hundred dollar note. "Excellent - excellent. Here you go Mr… Ned. One hundred dollars and I'll keep - this conglomeration of change and what's the difference of a few dollars between friends, really?" Ezra smiled. "You each get …."
Waiting for their minds to click over onto the hundred dollar note, Ezra watched as Ned's faced crumpled in concentration as he tried to figure out what amount they each got. Finally getting impatient Ezra prompted, "Twenty … dollars… a piece."
Whooping loudly and then remembering how late it was and secret their meeting was supposed to be, Bob whispered excitedly, "Twenty dollars! That's tons more than five! Gee thanks, mister." Ned was staring at the note like he wanted to bite it and test its worth, but seemed content with the deal. Shoving the mass of money in his pocket, Ezra deemed it was time to depart before Ned and Co decided to try and figure out how to 'split' their wages.
"It has been a pleasure doing business with you fine actors," Standish gushed. Five snorts of mock-humility and a few 'go on' s greeted that. "And if I ever have need of a few … angry malcontents…", the gambler continued. Everyone laughed at that, although Little Bob didn't look too sure why he was laughing or that he liked being called a malcontent. "I'll know who to call. Goodnight gentlemen."
The five men wished Ezra a distracted goodnight in return, more interested in getting a chance to touch the hundred dollar note. Standish strolled across the street like it was midday and not midnight and made his way to the corral.
Ezra found Vin and Chris with all three of their horses saddled and waiting at the open corral on the outskirts of Giant Falls
"You pay your angry marks?" Vin asked as he leant against Unalii checking the length of his rein for signs of wear.
"How did you…?" Ezra started to exclaim before Vin's knowing smirk stopped him. "You followed me." It was said with just a hint of indignant pride that was half serious, half joking.
"Nahhh." Vin replied, "Just figured it was something you'd do." There was no judgement in Vin's voice, he was simply stating a fact. He knew Ezra and the gambler was surprised to realise that one, he wasn't surprised that Vin had figured his plan out. And two that he didn't seem to mind that one of his friends knew him well enough to anticipate his usually convoluted moves. But this was Mr Tanner he was talking about after all, whose own mind worked in curious ways.
"Yes, I did reward my adequate minions who slightly over-acted their parts. Isn't it time we departed this fine locale for sunnier climes?"
Chris looked up from where he was bent over Pony's hoof - "Jus' waiting on you, Ez."
