Chris and Buck were relieved to hear the Judge delivering the sentence for the prisoner when they entered the store. The dark-clad gunfighter nodded at the older man when they walked in and then led the way to an empty corner of the room to wait for the trial to officially end.
Finally, the prisoner was escorted from the building by Sheriff Stains, who thankfully never looked in the two peacekeepers' direction. Judge Travis wove his way through the dispersing crowd and stopped in front of Chris and Buck.
"What brings you to Eagle Bend? Not trouble back in Four Corners, I hope." The Judge shook their hands in greeting as he waited for their answer.
"Not with the town, Judge. It's more of a personal problem... it concerns Ezra." Chris saw worry cross the older man's face and knew he was remembering the last time they'd asked for his help.
"I see." Orrin glanced around the still somewhat crowded store and motioned with his head toward the door. "What say we move this conversation over to the diner where we can have a bit more privacy and where I can get a much needed cup of coffee."
Chris and Buck nodded and gestured for the Judge to lead the way.
Ezra felt JD tug on his sleeve and glanced over at him.
"Please, Ezra, don't start anything. Remember what Chris said? No trouble?" JD had a very healthy respect for their leader and his hair-trigger temper, and had absolutely no wish to do anything that would put him in the line of fire when it went off.
Ezra looked at the two burly men who were now standing and glowering down at them, and then back at his young friend. He could see the slight glimmer of fear in the boy's eyes and knew it wasn't for what might happen here in the saloon, but what would most definitely happen afterward. JD was no coward and would never run from a good fight... in fact, he had instigated more than his fair share of them. However, with the specter of Chris's prodigious wrath hovering over them, it was obvious that he was extremely anxious to let this one go.
Ezra sighed and nodded. "You're right, Mr. Dunne. Mr. Larabee did put his faith in us to comport ourselves with a modicum of—" Ezra's words were cut off as a large hand fell on his shoulder and a growl reverberated menacingly in his ear.
"Did you say... Larabee?"
The gambler turned his head to look at the meaty paw that was rather painfully gripping his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly as they took in the large, angry looking giant who belonged to the hand. The man was huge... at least a head taller than Ezra with arms even larger than Josiah's and a thirst for revenge glinting darkly in his eyes. Ezra's heart sank when he recognized the man as one of those who had accompanied Sheriff Stains to Four Corners for Nathan's father's trial. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as he realized they were in for a world of hurt. And he knew that no matter what damage they incurred at the hands of this animal... it wouldn't be half as bad as what they had to look forward to when the redoubtable Mr. Larabee got a hold of them.
Orrin stared down into his coffee, contemplating everything Chris and Buck had just finished telling him about Ezra and the difficulties he had been experiencing since his amnesia. Finally, he looked up at them, his expression reflecting the doubt he held for the success of their plan. "And you think taking him back to the scene of the abuse he suffered at the hands of his uncle is going to help him?"
Chris shrugged his shoulders. "We're hoping it'll jog his memory so we can find out what the hell's causin' these damned nightmares of his. Maybe rememberin' what they're about will put an end to 'em."
"Nathan seems to think it might work. We gotta at least try, Judge... Ezra can't keep goin' on the way he is now." Buck nervously waited for the older man's decision.
"So you think he's going to leave if he can't get rid of the nightmares?" Orrin hoped they knew he just wanted what was best for Ezra.
"We don't think it, Judge... we know it," Chris stated firmly. "And we're prepared to do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen... including quitting our jobs if we have to."
Judge Travis could see that they were serious and was proud of them for standing up for Ezra. He'd worried that once the gambler was over his amnesia and back to his old self, they would give up their efforts to bring him into the fold. He was relieved to see that he'd been wrong. "Well, gentlemen, we can't let that happen. I have a few ideas on how we can allow you the time for your mission and still see to the needs of the town. Let me send a few wires, and I'll get back to you. Are you spending the night here?"
"Yeah, we thought we'd—" Chris stopped suddenly as the sound of breaking glass reached them from somewhere outside.
The three of them hurried out into the street. Buck groaned and shot a quick look at Chris after seeing two men staggering to their feet in front of the saloon's shattered window. He saw the older man's face darkening in anger and quickly laid a calming hand on his arm. "Now, Chris, it might not be them."
Chris snorted in disgust and shook off Buck's hand before starting across the street. "Wanna bet?"
Ezra hadn't been wrong about the world of hurt. He and JD both had taken several punishing blows as they'd fought against the crowd of angry men, but they were satisfied that they'd inflicted their own fair share of damage as well. The gambler had to admit it could have been worse, but thankfully, not everyone in the saloon was associated with Stains. There were several who resented the Sheriff's heavy-handed methods of enforcing the law and who, having heard about the incident in Four Corners, were more than happy to come to the defense of some of Larabee's men.
Ezra and JD were struggling to fight off their attackers as they backed toward the bat-wing doors. They were so intent on making their escape from the brawl, that they never even noticed the three men who had entered the building and stood blocking their retreat. At least not until a shot rang out, startling all of the combatants into a sudden, shocked silence and sending most of them scurrying for any exit they could find. JD whipped around to see who had come to their rescue and froze as he looked up into the angry countenance of Chris Larabee. "Oh shit...."
Ezra never even turned around... just stood where he was, staring down at the floor and shaking his head in resignation. Feeling a heavy hand descend on the back of his neck, he involuntarily flinched and then stiffened his spine. After pasting a look of pure innocence on his face, he turned to confront his executioner. "Mr. Larabee. I assure you we were merely—"
Chris shook his head and reached out to grasp Ezra's chin, turning his face back and forth to take in the painful looking damage. "Don't even try it, Ezra."
JD was enduring a similar treatment from Buck and shifted his eyes to look pleadingly at their leader. "But, Chris, it wasn't our fault... honest. We just—"
Chris shot him a glare that instantly stopped the boy's stammering attempt at professing their innocence.
Ezra, feeling an urgent need to get to his hotel room and lie down before he ended up falling flat on his face, and sensing that anything he said would be met with the same angry glare, decided to take matters into his own hands. Wrenching his face out of Chris's grip, he carefully straightened his clothes, retrieved his hat from the pile of rubble that used to be their table, and with a nod at the four other men, limped around them and toward the door.
"Ezra, where the hell do you think you're goin'?" Chris demanded incredulously. He couldn't believe the man had the nerve to just walk away from him, knowing the trouble he was obviously in.
The Judge stood back watching them, struggling to hold back a laugh at the looks on all of their faces. Buck and JD's eyes darted back and forth between Chris's reddening face and Ezra's retreating form as if they expected the gunfighter to lunge at the gambler at any moment. Meanwhile, Chris looked as if he was trying to decide whether to strangle Ezra or just shoot him and be done with it.
Ezra paused at the door, propping himself wearily up against the wall with one hand while gesturing toward Buck with the other. "Mr. Larabee, I think I am going to try to make it to my room before I disgrace myself in front of all these people by collapsing in a senseless heap on the floor. If you have any complaints about my behavior here this afternoon, please take them up with my guardian. I assume since Mr. Wilmington took it upon himself to secure custody of me, he is prepared to be responsible for my actions and to make reparations for any damages I may have caused."
Ezra couldn't help sending a satisfied smirk in Buck's direction, and was happy to see the gunman's jaw drop open in shock. The smug grin was wiped off his face however, when he chanced to look back at Chris before turning to go.
Chris's green eyes glittered dangerously as he stared back at Ezra, sending a chill of apprehension racing up the younger man's spine. "Judge? Since Buck doesn't seem to be able to control his charge, is there any chance we can have Ezra's custody signed over to me instead?"
The Judge had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into unrestrained laughter at the look of pure terror that broke through Ezra's usual poker face, but he gamely managed to hold it back long enough to respond to Chris's request. "Why, I don't see why not, Chris. He obviously needs a strong hand to keep him in line, and I think you're just the person to handle that."
"Thanks, Judge. I'll do my best to make sure he behaves himself from now on." Chris moved forward, wrapped an arm tightly around Ezra's shoulders, and began leading him slowly out of the saloon. "Okay, Ezra, let me explain what your life's gonna be like now that you're officially mine."
The Judge, Buck, and JD roared with laughter when they saw Ezra's fingers grasping desperately at the bat-wing doors and heard him frantically trying to reason with Chris.
"Mr. Larabee! Think about the ramifications of what you're doin'! You know how much trouble I can occasionally be... you can't possibly want to be under any obligation to handle every little... um... situation... that I find myself in." Ezra felt a glimmer of hope when the older man stopped and stared at him, apparently considering the validity of his argument. He decided to push home the advantage he thought he'd gained. "With your considerable duties as our leader, you certainly don't need the aggravation of dealin' with my obstreperous nature. I wouldn't want to be the cause of any added stress in your life."
"Thanks for bein' concerned about me, Ezra." Chris grinned at the gambler and tightened his grip on his shoulders. "And since you understand how much pressure I'm under worryin' about all of you and the town, I'm sure you want to help me anyway you can. Isn't that right?"
Ezra's con man instincts started screaming at him that he was walking into a trap. He stared suspiciously at Chris and felt his confidence falter as he noticed that the friendly expression he'd had on his face a moment before had changed into something almost feral. Realizing he had no choice but to agree, Ezra hesitantly nodded.
"Good. I knew you'd see things my way." Chris reached up and peeled the smaller man's fingers away from the door and then pulled him out onto the boardwalk. "Now, let's go get you cleaned up while I explain exactly how we're gonna take care of that little stubborn streak of yours."
"But, Mr. Larabee... Chris! Think about what you're doin'!" Ezra's voice held a twinge of panic as it drifted back into the saloon.
The Judge pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes as he finally managed to get himself under control. "Do you think we should put Mr. Standish out of his misery yet?"
Buck and JD were still laughing as they stared out over the top of the doors and watched Chris dragging the still protesting Southerner toward the hotel. "Nah... Ezra had this one comin'. Let's give Chris some time to have some fun with 'im first."
JD caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and after turning to see what it was, gave Buck a sudden, sharp poke in the ribs. Buck looked up to see what the kid was pointing at and groaned. "Um... Judge? Maybe you're right. I think JD an' I better go rescue Ezra after all."
The Judge frowned in surprise as Buck and JD suddenly darted out into the street and disappeared. Moving toward the still swinging doors, he discovered what had caused their hasty departure. After muttering angrily under his breath..."You'll pay for this, Mr. Wilmington"... Judge Owen Travis turned to face a furious Sheriff Stains as he stormed into the saloon.
"I thought I told you to keep your damned asses out of trouble?!"
Buck and JD cringed when they heard Chris's angry voice echoing down the stairs as they entered the hotel. They hesitated in front of the door to Ezra's room, listening as the gunfighter shouted down every excuse the gambler tried to use. While they were still trying to decide whether to go in or not, the door slammed open and Chris strode out into the hall.
Seeing JD, he grabbed the youth and pushed him into the room with Ezra. "You're in just as much trouble as he is, so you might as well join him. I want you both to keep your butts here for the rest of the night, and we'll be headed back to Four Corners first thing in the morning." Chris saw the boy's mouth open to issue a protest and gave him a glare that immediately killed any idea he had about arguing.
Chris turned to Buck and jabbed a finger roughly at his chest. "And you're gonna baby-sit the two of them."
Buck's eyes widened in surprise. "What the hell ya mad at me for? I was with you... remember?"
"Yeah, but it was your brilliant idea to send them down to the saloon in the first place." Chris's voice left no room for discussion as he finished issuing his orders to Buck and stalked off. "I'll bring back supper after I talk to Stains and the Judge. Meanwhile, stay put!"
Buck watched until Chris disappeared down the stairs, then with his features settling into an angry scowl, turned and entered the room, determined that JD and Ezra were going to pay for this one. If they were going to get him in trouble, they could at least make sure he shared in the fun while they did it.
It was late, and the three men confined to the hotel had just about decided to risk Chris's wrath and go after their supper themselves when he finally returned. They all were anxious to know how things had gone with Stains and with the Judge's quest to find someone to take over the job of protecting the town in their absence, but after one look at the gunfighter's face, they knew it wasn't a good time for questions.
Chris handed them their food and then turned and headed to his own room. The only words he spoke were... "We leave at sunup."
The next morning, Buck and JD made sure they were up bright and early and ready to go before Chris. They didn't want to do anything that would anger the gunfighter further. They stopped at Ezra's room to make sure he hadn't overslept and were surprised to find the room empty. The bed was a mess of tangled sheets and blankets, and Buck felt a feeling of dread start in the pit of his stomach. Had Ezra had another nightmare? Was that why he was up and gone already? With a worried glance at JD, he turned and hurried out of the hotel.
Buck and JD entered the stables and stopped just inside the door as they spotted Ezra in Rebel's stall, leaning tiredly against his horse as he finished tightening the cinch on his saddle.
"Ezra?" Buck saw the gambler jump at the sound of his voice and immediately apologized for startling him. "Sorry, pard... thought you heard us come in."
Ezra gave one last tug on the strap and turned to face them.
Buck's concern deepened when he got a good look at the Southerner's face. There were a couple of small scrapes on his jaw and one eye was slightly discolored... the remains of the altercation in the saloon yesterday... but that was minor compared to the obvious signs of exhaustion that also marred his features.
"You okay, Ezra?" JD asked as he moved past him and entered Ranger's stall.
"I'm fine, Mr. Dunne. I just thought it would be prudent to not keep Mr. Larabee waiting this morning." Ezra pasted a smile on his face and attempted to play down just how awful he really felt.
Buck saw the younger man start to close off his emotions and shook his head at him. "Don't."
Ezra's cheeks flushed guiltily at the disappointment he saw in the other man's eyes. He knew immediately what Buck meant, but he still found it hard not to retreat behind the barriers he'd always used to keep everyone from getting too close. "Sorry. Force of habit." Ezra allowed the weariness he was feeling to creep into his voice as he slumped back against the stall door. "Actually, I am a bit tired. I didn't want to take the chance of disturbing the other hotel patrons with one of my nightmares, so I forced myself to stay awake."
Buck frowned at him as he began saddling his horse. "Well, we're gonna have to make sure ya get some sleep when we get home, or ya won't be up to makin' the trip when it's time to go."
Ezra stared at Buck and thought about arguing over whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing, but decided it was pointless to even start that debate again. They were determined he was going, and he was sure nothing he could say would change their minds. In his heart, Ezra knew they were right in insisting he go back, but he just couldn't help the cold feeling of dread that surfaced every time he even thought about returning to his Uncle Matthew's plantation.
Chris's sudden appearance in the livery put a stop to his worries about their trip.
"Good morning, Mr. Larabee. And how are you this fine—" Ezra's greeting died on his lips when the older man stopped in front of him and just stared at his face for a few moments.
"Ezra... you look like hell. I want you at Nathan's as soon as we get back." Chris started toward his horse, but stopped when he heard the gambler nervously clear his throat.
"I'm f—" Ezra froze when he saw Chris's hands clench. Without another word, he moved quickly to his horse and led him out into the street. Buck and JD followed right behind him.
They were mounted and ready to ride when Chris exited the stables, and silently fell in behind him as he turned Strider toward home and nudged him into a gallop.
Chris's mood was enough to keep even JD quiet, and the ride back to town was a boring one... or peaceful if you looked at it from Chris's point of view. They were about halfway home when he thought about letting them off the hook, but the memory of dealing with an angry Judge Travis and an even more irate Sheriff Stains was still fresh in his mind, so he decided to leave them squirming a little while longer.
It was late afternoon when they finally arrived back in Four Corners. While they were in the livery seeing to the horses, Chris glanced over at his three companions. He could tell by the look on Buck and JD's faces and the whispered conversation they were holding, that the strain of not talking for most of the day had been almost more than they could handle. He knew they were just busting to get to the saloon and let loose, and he pitied the other members of their group who would probably have to bear the brunt of their verbal release. He was just glad he wouldn't be there to hear it, because he'd decided that he was going to personally escort Ezra over to the clinic and stay with him to make sure he allowed Nathan to examine him.
Buck and JD moved together toward the stable doors, anxious to get away from the unnatural silence that they'd been forced to endure.
"Buck, if you see Nathan, tell him he's got a patient in the clinic. Then let Vin and Josiah know we're havin' a meeting about the trip soon as Nathan's finished with Ezra." Chris was ready and grabbed Ezra's arm when the gambler shot him a startled look and started to back away.
"I have no need of Mr. Jackson's services, Mr. Larabee." Ezra continued to protest and struggle against Chris as they left the livery, but was forced to concede defeat when they reached the stairs leading up to the clinic. "Fine... I'll let him have a look at me if it will satisfy you, but you certainly do not need to hover over me. I'm sure you'd much rather join our compatriots at the saloon."
Chris gave Ezra a knowing look and drawled sarcastically, "That's okay, Ezra, I wouldn't want you to have to face Nathan alone. I'll just tag along an' keep you company."
Ezra sighed as his final attempt to avoid the hated ministrations of the healer was thwarted.
Nathan was in the clinic when they arrived and looked up in surprise and then relief when he saw Chris open the door and push Ezra ahead of him into the room. He'd wanted to examine the gambler before, but hadn't been able to get him to agree to it before they'd left for Eagle Bend. Now he quickly grabbed Ezra's arm from Chris, led him over to the bed, and immediately began checking him over.
Ezra offered up a token protest, but knew it was useless to resist and wearily submitted to Nathan's gentle poking and prodding as he answered the multitude of questions the healer threw at him. No, he didn't have a headache at the moment... yes, he had been having trouble sleeping... yes, he was eating... and no, he hadn't had another nightmare.
Nathan finally stepped back and shook his head. "You're okay for now, Ezra, but ya won't be if ya don't start gettin' some rest. When ya get ready t' head up t' your room tonight, I'm gonna give ya somethin' t' help ya sleep."
Ezra shook his head quickly as he finished straightening his clothes and stood up. "That won't be nece—"
"You're taking it, Ezra." Chris's voice cut across the Southerner's refusal... the hard edge behind his words indicating there was to be no argument over this one.
Ezra felt a jolt of anger at having his wishes summarily dismissed at every turn. The knowledge that his friends' actions were for his own good was pushed aside as the frustration of losing all control over his life suddenly became more than the gambler could handle.
"That's it!" Ezra's eyes flashed as he glared first at Nathan and then Chris. "I've had about all I can stand of being ordered around and treated like a recalcitrant child every time I question one of your demands!"
Nathan saw Ezra sway slightly as his emotional turmoil worked with the total exhaustion he was bordering on to leave him light-headed and weak. He reached out to steady the gambler, but his hand was immediately slapped away.
"I don't need your help!" Ezra backed out of their reach, one hand flattened against the wall to steady himself, while shakily rubbing at his eyes with the other. "Just... please... leave me alone."
Nathan glanced at Chris and then turned back to Ezra, moving forward slowly, wanting to get a supportive hand on him before he collapsed. "We're sorry, Ezra. We didn't see how hard we been pushin' ya, but ya gotta know it's for your—"
Ezra stopped him with a weary shake of his head. "I know, Mr. Jackson... it's for my own good." He looked up then and they both could see quite clearly how much of a struggle it was for him to explain what he was feeling. "I know y'all are just tryin' to do what's best for me, and I truly do not want to seem ungrateful, but you have to realize how difficult this all is for me. Everything is slippin' out of my control... the dreams, the headaches, and now my ability to make decisions about my own life."
Nathan carefully wrapped his hand around Ezra's arm and was relieved when the smaller man allowed him to ease him back down onto the edge of the bed.
Ezra stared down at the floor as he leaned forward, arms draped across his knees, his hands clenched together to hide their shaking. "I have to have control over something. I need it if I'm goin' to keep my sanity through this."
Chris walked over and sat down beside him. He stared at the younger man for a minute as he tried to figure out how to explain their feelings. "I know we've been a little over-protective..."
Ezra raised his eyes and just stared at the gunfighter.
Chris's mouth quirked up in a grin and he shrugged. "Okay, maybe more than a little, but you gotta think about how long and hard we've worked to get you to accept the fact that you're one of us... fightin' ya every step of the way." This time it was Ezra's turn to shrug and smile sheepishly. "Now that we've finally accomplished that, we're afraid if we don't keep fightin', you'll back away and we'll lose you."
Ezra had to quickly drop his gaze back down to the floor to hide the incredible surge of emotion that washed over him. He'd gotten somewhat used to hearing those sentiments from the rest of their group, but he had to admit that he wasn't always sure where he stood in their leader's eyes. So on those rare occasions when Chris expressed his positive feelings about Ezra's becoming and staying a member of their family, it really touched the gambler... and in his present condition, it was almost more than he could deal with.
Nathan could see the effect Chris's words were having on Ezra and decided to give him a break. After the way he'd been treating him lately, Nathan figured he owed it to him.
"'Sides, Ezra, without you here, who'd be left t' handle the tact an' diplomacy when it's needed? Chris?" Nathan grinned at the burst of laughter his question got out of Ezra.
"Hey!" Chris glared at the two men, but the twinkle in his eyes completely ruined the effect he was going for.
Ezra gave the older man a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Never fear, Mr. Larabee. You'd always have Mr. Tanner to fall back on." Even Chris had to laugh at the idea of their silent tracker turning into the diplomat of the group.
Once the laughter had died down, Nathan put a hand on Ezra's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Okay, Ezra, how 'bout I promise t' stop orderin' ya t' take my advice, an' you promise t' at least think about what I suggest instead of sayin' no the minute I open my mouth."
Ezra stared up at the healer as he considered his proposal, and finally nodded in agreement. "Sounds fair enough to me, Mr. Jackson. And, before you ask... yes, I will force down your loathsome herbal concoction before I retire this evenin'."
Nathan had gotten used to his friends reactions to his medicinal brews, and although he'd never admit it to them, he had to agree... they did taste awful. "Ya know, Ezra, I make them taste bad on purpose. I keep hopin' just the thought of havin' t' drink this stuff'll keep y'all from gettin' hurt or sick."
Ezra laughed and then the two friends, with their own immediate differences settled, turned their attention to Chris.
"What?" Chris frowned as they continued to stare at him and then heaved an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "Fine... I'll try to be less demanding when I make my 'requests'... if... you'll stop arguin' about every order I give."
Ezra scowled at Chris and shook his head. "Mr. Larabee, I most certainly do not argue every time you give me an order." Then he quickly flashed the other man a crooked grin. "Just most of the time."
Chris smiled and shook his head as he stood and headed for the door. "You're hopeless, Ezra. Now, get your ass over to the saloon an' get something to eat. All you've had today is some hardtack an' a few sips outta that flask of yours."
Ezra's mouth dropped open as he stared at Chris's retreating back. "You call that less demanding, Mr. Larabee?" He started after him, but was stopped suddenly by a hand clamping down tightly on his shoulder. Ezra turned and came face to face with an unsmiling Nathan Jackson.
"I thought ya said ya were eatin', Ezra? Hardtack an' whiskey? That's your idea of eatin'?" Nathan didn't even wait for an answer, just propelled the smaller man none-too-gently through the door and down the stairs to the street. "I'm orderin' your supper for ya, an' you're gonna eat every damn bit of it."
Ezra sputtered a protest as he was escorted toward the saloon. "Gentlemen, this is exactly the treatment I was referrin' to."
"I've got one word for you, Ezra... guardianship." Chris's grin grew considerably when he heard the gambler's reaction.
"Mr. Larabee, surely you weren't serious about that?!" Ezra jerked out of Nathan's grip and quickly followed after the gunfighter as he passed through the bat-wing doors. "Mr. Larabee?"
True to his word, Nathan took charge of ordering Ezra's supper and then with a few pointed looks and threatening comments, made sure he finished all of it.
While they ate, they worked on finalizing the details of the trip. Buck, Ezra and JD were relieved to finally hear what Chris had found out about temporary protection for the town while they were gone. The Judge had called in some favors and had managed to get a small army detail assigned to the town for as long as they needed them. Apparently the men were being transferred from Fort Stanton to a new fort in Kansas and would be passing near Four Corners on their way there.
Vin and Josiah both grinned when Chris asked how they'd made out with the rancher who had been interested in buying the coach. With a grand flourish, Josiah whipped a fat envelope out of his coat pocket and slapped it down in the middle of the table. Buck grabbed it up and whistled in amazement when he saw the amount of money stuffed inside. Vin told them the man had jumped at the chance to finally buy Delacourte's coach, and had immediately offered them an outrageous sum of money which the tracker said he'd almost felt guilty taking. But the rancher had insisted that the conveyance was well worth the price, and refused to take no for an answer.
Nathan's part of the plans had gone well also. He and Mary had sent a few inquiring telegrams and had found a train heading east that would be passing through Gainesville, a little town on the Mexican border. It would take them straight through to Henderson, Louisiana which Ezra informed them was only about an hour's ride away from Shelby. Mary had even offered to wire the depot in Gainesville and make all the arrangements for them as soon as they were sure they'd be able to go. It meant they'd have to leave a little earlier than planned, but the Judge had told Chris that he was going to swing around to visit with Mary and Billy before heading home, and Chris figured he'd probably be willing to handle things until the army detail arrived.
As soon as they finished their meal, Ezra pulled out his ever-present deck of cards and began dealing. The nightly poker game was a habit they'd gotten into after he'd recovered from his amnesia, just a way they'd found to connect and unwind at the end of the day. Some games turned into marathon sessions, others were only a few rounds, depending on whether or not any of them had other plans for the evening.
This game turned into one of the shorter ones for Ezra when Nathan noticed him struggling to keep his eyes open after only a couple of hands. It was exceptionally early by the gambler's standards for him to be retiring for the night, but even he had to admit that his sorely taxed energy level had just about reached its limit. So when Nathan left the table and returned with a steaming hot cup of his herbal tea, Ezra slowly downed it after offering only a token resistance. He played one more round of cards while he waited for the medicine to start working, and then bade his friends good night and wearily climbed the stairs to his room.
JD shared a worried look with the others. "I sure hope takin' 'im back home works. I really hate seein' 'im this way."
Nathan nodded his head in agreement. "It better work. That man's right on the edge, an' every nightmare he has pushes 'im that much closer t' goin' over... an' I doubt anything we could do would bring 'im back if that happens.
It was nearly midnight, and the saloon was empty except for the two men just finishing up the bottle of whiskey they shared while they played one last hand of cards.
Vin and Chris had stayed long after the others had left, knowing that with their thoughts so focused on Ezra, sleep would be slow in coming. They'd carefully gone over every last detail of the trip one final time, and then turned their discussion to the endless possibilities of what could be causing Ezra's dreams. They were just about to call it a night when an anguished cry echoed through the quiet saloon.
"What the hell was that?!" Chris stared at Vin, and then his eyes widened when he realized what he was hearing. "Aw shit... it's Ezra!"
///Ezra felt as if he were floating. He was moving across a dirt packed yard, but there was no sensation of walking or sounds of footsteps. He looked down at himself and saw that he was still wearing the nightshirt he'd gone to bed in and to his amazement, he saw that his bare feet missed touching the ground by several inches. He merely seemed to be gliding along, enshrouded in a silvery, shifting mist that only allowed him brief glimpses of his surroundings. "Where the hell am I? Is this another dream?" He would swear he was awake though... his eyes felt like they were opened... there... he just blinked... didn't he?
But the last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his bed... his nice, comfortable featherbed. "Wait, I know how to settle this." Moving his hand slowly up to his face, he pinched lightly at his cheek. Nothing. No pain. He couldn't even feel his fingers on his skin. Definitely a dream, but something was very wrong. Now that he knew he was in one of his nightmares... why didn't he wake up?
Suddenly a harsh cry of pain resounded through his head, followed by a child's voice, sobbing brokenly. Ezra's heart began to pound as he attempted to locate the source of the weeping. He tried to go faster, tried to force himself to run, but he couldn't seem to move his legs. He just continued to glide forward at the same slow pace.
Ezra strained to see through the swirling fog as the heartbreaking sounds seemed to surround him. Finally, he noticed a slight clearing in the air in front of him... almost like a window opening in the mist. A large shape loomed up ahead of him... a building... a barn maybe? He could see some kind of movement near the structure... it looked like someone was there... and he was sure it was where the crying was coming from. Ezra's eyes narrowed and his pulse quickened... it looked so familiar. He glided a few yards closer, and then he knew... knew where he was and what he was hearing and seeing.
Ezra cried out and frantically began to struggle against the force that was pulling him slowly toward the scene being played out before him... toward the scene of his torture... toward his Uncle Matthew.///
Chris and Vin arrived in the hall outside Ezra's room just as another terror-filled cry came from inside. Ignoring the startled faces of the other roomers, the two men burst through the gambler's door and stopped suddenly, staring in dismay at the sight that greeted their eyes.
Ezra knelt in the middle of the bed, sweat plastering his dark hair to his head and running in rivulets down his face and neck. His usually bright green eyes were almost black with the fear that seemed to have him in its crushing grip, and his head swiveled constantly as he searched the room for whatever was frightening him. The air was filled with his painfully rasping breaths, and his chest heaved with the sobs that seemed to be literally ripping him apart.
Instantly realizing Ezra was deep in the throes of another nightmare, Chris and Vin approached the bed slowly while uttering a soft litany of soothing words in an effort to calm him.
"Easy, Ezra... you're all right." Chris saw the gambler's eyes settle on his before darting swiftly away and knew he wasn't really seeing him.
"Come on, pard, we're here with ya now... you're safe." Vin eased up to the edge of the bed and gently laid his hand on Ezra's arm.
Both men were shocked when Ezra cried out and threw himself off the bed, scrambling to wedge himself into the corner, seemingly trying to get as far away from them as possible.
Chris's eyes never left Ezra as he motioned for Vin to move back. "Go get Nathan... and find Buck. I've got a feeling he's the only one who's gonna be able to get through to him."
Vin was out the door almost before Chris finished speaking, pulling the door closed behind him to shut out the prying eyes of Ezra's neighbors.
///No matter how hard he struggled, Ezra couldn't seem to stop his forward momentum until he suddenly came to a jerking halt about twenty feet from the barn. Now he was close enough to see clearly, and his heart almost stopped when he realized what it was that he was witnessing. It was a horrifying scene from his childhood... one he'd managed to push to the deepest recesses of his mind where he was safe from the memories. Oh, God... why couldn't he wake up? Where was Buck? Why didn't he come for him like he did during his last dream?
Ezra felt a shudder rip through him as he recognized his five-year old self hanging from the whipping post in front of the barn... Buck's Little One. Ezra moaned as he stared at the damage done to the boy's back, shifting his shoulders as the remembered fiery pain seemed to ripple across his own skin, making the faint scars he still carried throb and burn. It had been just the beginning of the punishment, and several angry looking welts marred the boy's pale skin. One or two of the lashes had been hard enough to break the skin, and Ezra would have sworn he could feel the blood oozing slowly down his back, soaking into his nightshirt. The sensation was so real that he unconsciously reached behind him to try and wipe it away, staring in amazement when his hand came away clean.
"Look, you little bastard! Just look at what you've done!"
Ezra jumped and looked up guiltily at the hated sound of his uncle's voice, but he wasn't speaking to him of course... it was the Little One he was going after. The Southerner's stomach clenched as he heard the youngster begin to cry harder and saw him flinch away from the cruel hand that reached out to grab his small chin. Matthew jerked the boy's head around as he shouted at him, pointing to something off to their right.
Ezra turned to see what he was talking about and felt his heart stop, an indescribable feeling of grief welling up in his chest. Just at the edge of his limited field of vision were two bodies... one male, one female... lying sprawled together in the dirt. Ezra leaned forward to try and get a look at their faces... terrified at what he would see, but needing to know who they were. He was stopped when his head came in contact with some sort of invisible barrier. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pressed his face and hands against its surface while he strained to see who they were. He knew them... he had loved them. His shattering heart told him this much was true.
Tears streamed down Ezra's face as he watched his uncle stalk over and kick at the lifeless forms before turning back around and pointing an accusing finger at the child, who stared in horror as strangled sobs of grief wracked his small body.
"This is all you're fault, you misbegotten whelp! They'd both still be alive if it weren't for you!" Matthew's face was mottled with rage, and his voice shook as he bent to retrieve the belt he'd been using to whip the boy. He ran his hands slowly along the thick leather as he doubled it over, and grasping the ends in one huge fist, closed in on the Little One.///