The next few days were, for the most part, a blur for Ezra. The sleep he so badly needed was constantly interrupted as his friends fought to keep him out of the horrifying world of his nightmares. His headache never truly left, just eased to a dull throbbing behind his right eye that kept his stomach churning and made it a struggle for him to keep anything down. And thanks to the lack of adequate rest and nourishment, he was suffering from wildly fluctuating emotional mood swings that left him either giggling and chatting up a storm like a slap-happy drunk, crying at the drop of a hat, or angrily railing against everything they tried to do to help him.
The group quickly fell into a routine as each of them discovered which of Ezra's moods they dealt best with. Since Chris was too short-tempered to be around him when he was angry, and JD was too emotional to handle some of the hurtful things that Ezra was liable to blurt out when he was in that frame of mind, they took care of him when the sleep deprivation turned him almost euphoric. They found that they actually enjoyed listening to him ramble, jumping from one totally unrelated topic to the next. One minute he'd be laughing over some humorous tale about one of Maude's schemes that had blown up in the conniving woman's face, and the next he'd be solemnly describing how lonely and isolated he'd felt growing up with only his mother for companionship. During these periods of relative calm, they would accompany him down to the saloon and play cards with him as he talked, giving him a much needed respite from the confines of his room. They only retreated back upstairs when he seemed about ready to wind down, knowing that he'd probably be able to finally grab a couple of hours of much-needed sleep.
Vin, Nathan, and Josiah dealt with the anger because they had a knack for tuning out the harsh words, knowing they weren't meant to hurt. It was just Ezra's only way to vent his frustration at having lost all control over what was happening to him. They usually tried to keep him in his room during these times, because anyone could become a target for his rage... one wrong look or misunderstood word was all it took to set the emotionally unstable Southerner off.
And then there was Buck, who wanted to be there for all of it. The others had talked themselves blue in the face trying to convince him that he would do Ezra no good if he drove himself into the ground by refusing to take care of himself. It had finally taken a direct order from Chris and the threat from Nathan that he would keep him away from Ezra altogether, to get him to at least go back to his room for some sleep once or twice a day. It was only a few hours of restless slumber, but they figured it was better than nothing. Of course, Buck would only agree to it after they promised to come for him if Ezra wanted him for any reason. They knew better than to argue that point, because they were all aware that Buck was the only one Ezra would allow to be around him when he sank into the depression that usually occurred after the other moods passed... when the hated tears flowed no matter how hard he fought against them.
Buck was the one person who could pull him back out of the sea of guilt he tried to drown himself in when the attacks of melancholia hit. Ezra needed to be constantly reassured that he wasn't to blame for his uncle's actions... that he had been manipulated by Delacourte's sadistic mind and that he, as a child, could in no possible way have forced the man to commit murder.
It was a constant battle, and everyone's nerves were frayed, but somehow they made it through that week, even managing to make a small improvement in Ezra's health. By the third or fourth day, his headache had finally left and his constant nausea had stopped so that he was once again able to eat normally, at least for him. He'd even gotten to the point where he could fall back to sleep fairly quickly after they'd had to waken him from a dream, enabling him to get caught up on some of the sleep he'd missed. His emotions had leveled off, and except for an occasional bout of depression, he'd been acting almost like his old self again.
The Judge came in on the stage the day before they were to leave for Gainesville, and Chris had gone to Mary's to talk to him... letting him know they'd be leaving in the morning and asking him one last time if he was sure they'd be all right until the army detail got there. Orrin had reminded him that the troop was due to arrive in two days and, with a touch of sarcasm, assured him that the town would survive that long with just his meager protection.
And then, to Chris's consternation, the Judge had asked for his promise that they would stay within the law. The blond had fought against it, but then Travis had gotten him when he'd told him to think about what it would do to Ezra if one of them were sent to prison for trying to help him.
Chris had tried to argue that all that mattered was keeping Ezra safe from Delacourte, whatever it took, but in his heart, he knew that the added guilt would be more than the gambler could handle, and they'd lose him for sure. So, for Ezra's sake, Chris had made the promise.
The next morning dawned clear and cool, with the rain that had pelted the area for the past few days finally ending. Nathan was relieved to see the sun shining. He'd seriously contemplated calling the trip off, not wanting Ezra subjected to the rigors of a long, wet ride in his present condition. He'd tried to talk the obstinate gambler into allowing himself to be transported in a buggy, but he insisted on riding along with the rest of them, refusing to be treated like an invalid.
Mary and the Judge came out just as the men were mounting their horses, wished them luck, ordered Chris to send a telegram to let them know they'd arrived safely, and told Ezra they hoped the trip was successful. Then they stood and watched as the town's seven protectors turned their mounts and rode slowly away from Four Corners.
The trip to Gainesville was hot and dusty, but thankfully uneventful. They'd made it with a couple of hours to spare, and after paying for their tickets, moved down the street to the saloon. The interior was dark and cool and provided a welcome relief to the heat they'd endured on their ride.
As they sat savoring their refreshingly cold beers, six of the men discreetly watched their seventh who leaned wearily back in his chair with his eyes closed.
Ezra, sensing their scrutiny, smiled slightly and without opening his eyes, quietly spoke. "I'm perfectly fine, gentlemen... just a bit tired." He'd seen their covert glances during the ride, each of them keeping a worried eye on him, ready to stop and rest the minute they thought he was in any distress. Ezra cracked an eye open and peered bemusedly around the table at his six friends. "As if it isn't bad enough having Mr. Wilmington doing his excellent imitation of a mother hen... the rest of you decide to join him."
The others looked guiltily back at the gambler and chuckled. "Sorry, Ezra, guess it's catchin'." Vin slumped down in his chair and grinned at the Southerner. "Blame Bucklin... he musta breathed on us or somethin'."
Ezra tipped his hat back and stared over at the tall, dark healer. "Surely you must have some foul tasting medicine in your bag that can cure such an annoying affliction, Mr. Jackson."
Nathan laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, Ezra, far as I know, there ain't nothin' that can get rid of it 'ceptin' for the one bein' mothered t' get better. Guess it's all up t' you now."
"Oh great." Ezra frowned and turned to their youngest. "Mr. Dunne... would you mind runnin' over to the depot and seein' if they could possibly hurry that train along? Tell them it's an emergency. I need to get to Shelby... now."
JD slid deeper in his chair. "No way, Ezra. It's usually me that's gettin' all their attention. It's 'bout time somebody shared it with me."
The others laughed at the feigned look of betrayal that Ezra turned on JD. They knew he was putting on a show for their benefit. It was obvious by the pallor and deep lines etched around his eyes and mouth that he was in much worse shape than he was letting on, but it was still good to hear him joking around with the younger man.
Nathan kept a careful eye on him and wished it was possible to hurry the train's arrival along. He could see that Ezra needed to lie down... and soon. The con man may have fooled everyone else, but Nathan knew his headache had never completely left him. And now the long ride with the sun beating down on them had obviously made it worse. He certainly hoped this trip back was the answer to banishing Ezra's nightmares, and consequently the headaches. As strong as the Southerner was, Nathan honestly didn't think he could take much more.
By the time the train finally pulled into town, Ezra was nearly asleep in his chair.
"Come on, Ezra... let's get ya boarded an' settled so's ya can get some rest." Nathan reached down and helped the gambler up, and then steadied him with a light touch to his back as they slowly made their way over to the depot.
While the others saw to getting the horses loaded and their gear on board, Nathan accompanied Ezra onto the train.
Mary had managed to secure them two staterooms in the hotel car, and they had already decided that Nathan, Buck, and Ezra would occupy one, while the remaining four bunked together in the other.
The two men gave the room they were directed to a cursory examination and were quite pleased with what they found. Two very comfortable looking sofas lined the walls to the left and right, and there was a small table and two chairs placed in front of the window. There was room over top of the couches where a board could be placed at night for more sleeping space, but since one person had to be awake at all times to ensure Ezra didn't slip into one of his nightmares, the extra bed wouldn't be needed.
Nathan found some blankets and pillows in a small closet and made up the couch while Ezra stripped down to just his pants and shirt.
"Ya want me t' see if I can rustle ya up somethin' t' eat 'fore ya lay down, Ezra?" Nathan wasn't surprised when the Southerner declined his offer. He could see that Ezra was barely able to keep his eyes open and knew he'd be asleep minutes after his head hit the pillow.
Ezra sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots, and reluctantly had to stop and catch his breath before continuing. He felt his arms tremble as he propped himself up, and angrily shook his head. God, he hated feeling this weak and tired!
Nathan wanted to help him, but knew he'd be refused. Ezra was hanging on to whatever bit of control he still had over his life and was guarding it fiercely. So instead, the healer pulled one of the chairs over near the couch and sat down.
"Ezra? Can I talk to ya for a minute before the others get here?" Nathan's deep voice was low and hesitant and held a seriousness that immediately caught Ezra's attention.
Ezra studied his dark friend carefully and saw a myriad of emotions flit across his handsome face. Remorse, confusion, and an infinite sadness... each emotion surfacing briefly before immediately being replaced by another.
"Certainly, Mr. Jackson." Ezra licked his lips nervously as he wondered what could have the usually calm and collected healer so upset. "Is... is anything wrong?"
Nathan stared at the gambler for a moment and found himself again having to push the old hatreds back. He shook his head in disgust . <<This is Ezra, for God's sake! A friend who I'd trust with my life, not one of those Southern bastards from my past!>>
Ezra caught a flicker of anger in the healer's dark brown eyes and, thinking it was directed at him, wished one of the others were there with them. He leaned forward and hesitantly touched one of Nathan's clenched fists. "Nathan? Have I said or done somethin' to upset you?"
Nathan picked up on Ezra's nervousness and hurried to reassure him. "I ain't mad at you, Ezra, jus' at myself." He watched the gambler hesitate for a second and then visibly relax. Nathan glanced down at the floor, marshaling his thoughts and trying to remember all the things he'd wanted to say to his friend. "Ezra, I'm sorry for the way I been treatin' ya the last few months. I jus' want ya t' know that I don't mean half the things I say t' ya."
Ezra smiled at the healer as he gently teased him. "Only half of them, Mr. Jackson?"
Nathan gave the gambler a crooked grin and shrugged. "Well, sometimes you do try a person's nerves, Ezra."
"I have been told that on occasion." Ezra was relieved to hear the other man chuckle. Now that he'd eased the tension a bit, he got back to the matter at hand. "So... Nathan... it's fairly obvious that somethin' about me is bringin' on the undeserved half of your remarks... care to tell me what it is?"
Nathan struggled to find the words to explain to Ezra what he was feeling, and finally just blurted out the truth.
"Everything. You're accent, your highfalutin way of speakin', the way ya dress an' carry yourself... like you're—" Nathan stopped, instantly regretting what he'd been about to say when he saw the flash of pain in Ezra's eyes.
A self-deprecating grin slipped easily into place as Ezra softly finished Nathan's statement. "'Like I'm above everyone else?' Is that what you were about to say, Mr. Jackson? I assure you, my friend... nothin' could be further from the truth." The gambler leaned wearily back against the couch and shook his head. "I thought we'd left our cultural differences at the Seminole village back at the beginnin' of our... association. Why are they suddenly rearin' their ugly heads now?"
Nathan leaned forward and sat with his head in his hands. "We did, an' I ain't rightly sure why it's all surfacin' again. Hell, I know in my heart you ain't like that, Ezra. It's jus'... you describin' that whippin' when ya was still our Little One, an' us meetin' your uncle... well, it's jus' kinda brought back all the evil that I saw an' went through when I was still a slave." Nathan looked back up at Ezra and sadly shook his head. "I jus' want t' apologize for lettin' my problems with the past get in the way of our friendship."
Ezra found it hard to blame Nathan for feeling the way he did after seeing firsthand how slaves had been abused and degraded, and because he'd experienced it himself at the hands of his uncle. He understood how difficult it was to shake the trauma of being treated like you were nothing... like you weren't even human, merely someone's possession. But it was still hard for Ezra, who had always considered slavery an ugly and contemptible aspect of Southern life, to accept the fact that Nathan... a friend... could possibly associate him with it in any way. He'd always fought against people assuming just because of his accent and his obvious pride in his Southern heritage, that he was automatically a proponent for the heinous practice of slavery. Ezra was tired of waging that particular battle, and he had hoped it wouldn't be necessary with his friends... he thought they all knew him better than that by now.
Ezra stared at Nathan and saw the anguish the gentle healer was going through in trying to understand what he was feeling and why... saw that it was tearing Nathan up inside to know that his thoughtless remarks and actions had hurt a friend... and this, more than his words of regret, allowed Ezra to push aside his own feelings and forgive him.
Ezra nodded and graciously accepted the other man's apology. "Thank you, Nathan, but please don't think for even a moment that our friendship will be allowed to suffer because of this little setback. We've both been made painfully aware of how the past can come back to haunt you just when you think you're safe, and maybe if we work together, we'll both be able to rid ourselves of our demons while we're on this little excursion."
"Lord, I sure hope so, Ezra. I hate feelin' this way, an' I sure don't want t' lose you as a friend." Nathan saw the smaller man stifle a yawn and knew it was time to end the conversation. He stood and moved the chair back by the window, then watched while Ezra slowly pulled off his boots and stretched out on the couch. Ignoring the stubborn gambler's usual protests, the dark healer spread the blanket out over him and made sure he was comfortable. "Now that we got you settled, I'm gonna go see if the others got boarded okay."
"Don't tell me I'm actually goin' to be allowed to fall asleep without someone sittin' here starin' at me?" Ezra kept his voice light and tried to seem eager for some time alone, but Nathan saw the anxiety in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide.
Nathan gave the smaller man's blanketed leg a pat and then moved toward the door. "Don't get excited, Ezra, I'll only be gone a minute. Until we get rid of those nightmares of yours, you're jus' gonna have t' put up with one of us keepin' ya company whenever you're sleepin'." Nathan glanced back at the gambler as he opened the door and saw the look of relief that quickly replaced the nervousness in Ezra's eyes when he realized he wouldn't be left alone with his dreams.
"I suppose it would do me no good to argue." Ezra went through the motions of disagreeing with the healer's verdict, but Nathan knew it was only for show, so he played along for the sake of the gambler's pride.
"Nope, so don't even go wastin' your breath. Jus' lay back there an' try an' get some rest. I'll leave the door open a bit in case ya need me." Nathan saw the grateful look on Ezra's face and gave him a small nod before hurrying off to check on the others.
The train ride was long and tedious. Most of their time was spent playing cards while they tried to figure out what they were going to do once they got to Shelby. It was finally decided that their best bet would be to talk to some of the long-time residents of the town. It was a long shot since it had been over twenty years since the incident, but there was always a chance that one of the older townsfolk might remember Ezra and his uncle. Small town life being what it was, if anything out of the ordinary had happened out on that plantation, the odds were that it had been fodder for the rumor mill.
Ezra warned them that it might be hard to get anyone to talk to them. Small towns... especially small southern towns... weren't exactly open and welcoming to strangers.
Nathan had nodded his head in agreement and reluctantly admitted that it would be even harder for him because of his color. He'd been so worried about how he'd handle facing his memories of the South and about what was going to happen to Ezra when they started digging into his past, that he just hadn't thought about the treatment he would most likely receive as an ex-slave. But now Nathan realized that Ezra was absolutely right... his trying to question the white citizens of Shelby would be a waste of time and possibly even dangerous for him. He told the others he'd have to concentrate his efforts on his own people, and Ezra warned him to be careful not to draw attention to himself... a Negro asking questions would not be looked upon kindly by the local constabulary.
Josiah brought up the subject of Ezra's Uncle David and suggested they see if he still lived in the area. According to the Little One, he'd never seen him again after the day his Uncle Matthew and Maude had forcibly removed Ezra from his custody, but that didn't mean he hadn't perhaps kept an eye on the boy from a distance. Maybe he'd have some information about the two people Ezra claimed to have seen Matthew kill. The gambler's face paled at the mention of his Uncle David, and they all saw his hands tremble slightly as he dealt out the cards. But when he looked up, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes at the prospect of seeing one of the few people in his young life who had actually cared about him.
Their last resort was going to be taking Ezra out to the plantation. Deep down, they all knew that it was probably going to come down to doing just that, but not one of them wanted to put their friend through the pain of returning to the hell where all of his nightmares took place.
Thankfully, there was only one instance when his friends were unable to pull Ezra out of his nightmare in time. The dream was the same as always... the beating, the accusations of guilt by his uncle, and the two tragic figures lying broken and lifeless in the dirt. Ezra struggled desperately to try and remember who they were and was rewarded for his efforts with the sudden knowledge that the female was young, and from the brief revealing glimpse he'd had of her, it was apparent she had probably been one of his uncle's slaves. This flash of memory hadn't come cheaply though, as the ensuing headache was severe and tortured the gambler for several hours before it finally eased up enough to allow Ezra to get some much needed rest.
The frequency of Ezra's dreams increased as they drew closer to their destination. By the time the train pulled into Henderson, they were being forced to wake him up at least three or four times a night, which had left them all exhausted and praying that they'd find the answers they needed to be able to finally release Ezra from his past.
Since it was only noon when they arrived, Chris suggested they go ahead and push on to Shelby.
Ezra felt his pulse quicken slightly at the older man's words. Push on? Already? He'd hoped they'd stay in Henderson overnight... give him more time to prepare himself. Ezra tried to keep the tremor out of his voice as he questioned Chris's decision. "Leave now, Mr. Larabee? I-I thought we'd be spending the night here... to allow everyone time to rest."
Chris and the others looked at Ezra, surprised by his reluctance to go on. Nathan frowned as he saw the gambler hastily avert his eyes and begin picking nervously at a piece of imaginary lint on his sleeve.
"You said it's only an hour's ride to Shelby. I think we can all hold out that much longer." Chris gave Nathan a questioning look.
Nathan touched Ezra's arm to get his attention and asked, "Ya feelin' okay, Ezra? It ain't you're headache botherin' ya again, is it?"
Ezra looked up, saw them all staring at him, and quickly shook his head, forcing a reassuring smile onto his face. What he wanted to say was... 'No, I'm not feelin' okay... I'm scared... please take me home'... but what actually came out of his mouth was, "I'm fine, Nathan. I just misunderstood our plans. Of course the wise thing to do would be to continue on. Shall we be off?" Ignoring their worried stares, Ezra turned and walked away.
Chris glanced at the others and saw the knowing looks on their faces. They'd all gotten a glimpse of the fear that had flashed briefly in Ezra's eyes before he'd managed to push it away. Ezra hadn't wanted to make this trip to begin with, but they'd all thought he'd finally seen the need for it and was as eager as they were to solve the mystery of his nightmares. Apparently they'd been wrong. Chris thought about talking to the younger man, but knew it wouldn't accomplish anything, so instead he just shrugged at the others and followed after Ezra as he made his way to where their horses were being led off the train. Hopefully, their tight-lipped friend would eventually open up and share his fears and worries with them. Until he chose to do so, there was nothing they could do but stay close and make sure he knew they were there for him when he was ready to finally reach out for their help.
It was a typical Southern summer day... hot and humid... and it wasn't long before everyone but Ezra and Nathan were miserable and complaining. They all had taken their coats off and draped them across their saddles, but it hadn't helped much.
JD dragged his arm across his face, wiping away the sweat with the sleeve of his shirt. "God, how can anyone stand to live down here?"
Buck fanned himself with his hat as he rode and nodded his agreement. "Don't understand it myself, JD. This damned air's so thick it's like tryin' to suck water into your lungs."
Chris jerked his horse away from Vin as the tracker suddenly flung his arm out in an attempt to chase away an insect that was buzzing incessantly around his head. "The hell with the heat an' air... it's these damned bugs that are drivin' me crazy! I think that last one was tryin' t' carry me away."
"Well, quit sendin' the damned things my way. I don't like 'em any better than you do." Chris took his hat and swatted the bug that had been tormenting Vin and received a relieved look of gratitude from the younger man in return.
Nathan and Ezra, who were riding in the front, looked back at their irritable companions and just shook their heads.
"Ain't no hotter than that damned desert y'all like so much," Nathan commented.
"I agree, Mr. Jackson." Ezra nodded and gestured around him. "Plus the scenery is so much lovelier here... beautiful green trees, brightly colored flowers and birds... definitely a vast improvement over the drab browns and tans of the sand, rocks, and buzzards."
"Hang on now, Ezra, the desert ain't all like that. There's plenty of bushes an' flowers out there that are jus' as purty as these," Buck argued, looking at the others for support.
"Buck's right." Vin ducked as a rather large bee swooped over his head. "'Sides... I'd jus' as soon be out in the desert dealin' with snakes an' scorpions any day instead of these damned bugs."
Josiah removed his hat and mopped the sweat off his face and the back of his neck with his bandanna. "God certainly has blessed this part of the country with an abundance of beauty, Ezra, but I still think I prefer the nice dry heat we left back in Four Corners."
The friendly arguing continued for the remainder of the ride... neither side really trying to win, just trying to keep their minds off of what lay ahead of them once they got to Shelby and started delving into Ezra's past.
JD had been slouched in the saddle, his energy sapped by the unrelenting heat, until they rounded a curve in the road, and he caught a glimpse of a church steeple through the trees. Sitting up straighter, he looked back at the others and eagerly asked Ezra if that was Shelby up ahead.
The others all cast furtive glances at Ezra when he answered JD in the affirmative and saw him pale slightly with his first look at the town he'd last seen twenty-three years ago.
Nathan saw a tremor of exhaustion and nervousness shake the slender form of the gambler and decided the first thing they had to do was find a place to stay and convince Ezra to get some rest.
Vin had seen it too and dropped back to ride beside his Southern friend. "You okay, Ezra?"
Ezra started to brush Vin off with a glib answer, but couldn't when he looked over and saw the honest concern in the ex-bounty hunter's blue eyes. "I've been better, Mr. Tanner." He sighed and ran a weary hand over his face before continuing. "I'll just be glad when this is all over, and we can go home."
"We all will be, pard... an' the sooner the better."
Vin stayed beside Ezra as they rode into town, and it wasn't lost on the gambler that all of his friends seemed to close ranks around him as if to protect him from his memories. He still had a hard time believing he deserved the friendship and loyalty they were showing him, but he no longer felt the same over-whelming need to fight against it and had decided to just accept it and cherish it for the gift it truly was.
Chris watched Ezra's face as the town slowly unfolded around him and could tell by his frown that most of what he was seeing was unfamiliar. "Can't remember it?"
Ezra shook his head. "Not really... no. But I honestly didn't expect to anyway. The only times I think I was ever actually in town were when Mother and I rode through on our way to Uncle Matthew's." He smiled ruefully at the gunfighter. "We seldom stopped for anything. Unfortunately, the various shops and eateries here weren't quite up to Mother's standards."
JD glanced at him curiously. "But didn't ya ever come into town with your uncle and his family?"
Ezra uttered a harsh, humorless laugh and smiled grimly at the young man. "I was allowed out of my room to do chores, Mr. Dunne... that's all. And then only if my uncle was there to stand guard over me." He turned away from the incredible sadness that had appeared in JD's compassionate hazel eyes and let his gaze wander over the various establishments that lined the street in search of the hotel. "Whenever he was going to be away from the plantation for any length of time, he locked me in my pitiful excuse of a room and took the key with him. He claimed he didn't want the servants babying me and undoing all the respect he'd worked so hard to instill in me. By babying, he meant feedin' me a decent meal, cleanin' me up, or treatin' any injuries I may have incurred as a result of his... disciplinary methods. He didn't want me gettin' spoiled."
Ezra closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, calming breath before carefully changing the subject. "I do believe that large gray building on the right is the Shelby Hotel. Shall we see to our accommodations before proceeding with our fact-finding mission, gentlemen?"
Nathan stared at Ezra's back as he rode toward the hotel and thought about his life under Matthew Delacourte's sadistic control. He was swept by a deep feeling of sorrow over his treatment of the gambler as he was reminded that Ezra had suffered just as much as he had while he was still a slave.
Chris and Ezra went in to see about getting rooms while the others took the horses over to the livery. They'd decided to double up in order to save money, with both Buck and Nathan bunking with Ezra just as they'd done on the train.
The two men waited in the lobby for the others and then helped carry their gear up to the rooms.
As soon as the seven men rounded the landing and disappeared from view, the desk clerk, after taking one more look at the newest addition to the register, left the hotel, walked hurriedly to the offices at the opposite end of the street, and ducked inside.
"Mr. Delacourte? They're here."
It was still early when they finished stowing their gear in their rooms, so they decided to do a little scouting around until dinnertime. Nathan caught Ezra as he started to follow the others out and pushed him gently back toward the bed. "Not you, Ezra. I want ya t' get some rest."
Ezra railed against the healer's orders, but it was obvious that he was resisting only out of habit, because it was only a matter of minutes before the tired gambler had given in and agreed to remain behind. Then it was JD's turn to protest when Chris told him to stay with Ezra.
"Why doesn't Buck stay with him? He's the one who knows what to do in case he has one of his nightmares." JD glanced at Ezra and hoped he didn't get offended, it was just that he hated always being the one left behind. Ezra, however, understood the reasoning behind Chris's decision... JD's youth and obvious northern heritage would put him at too much of a disadvantage for him to effectively deal with the locals.
Buck threw an arm around the younger man and grinned down at him. "Come on now, son, you just scream out Yankee. If that hat and suit didn't give ya away, they'd know for sure as soon as ya opened your mouth."
JD tried to argue that Chris and Josiah didn't have a strong southern accent, but even he had to admit that they probably had enough of a drawl to keep them from attracting as much negative attention as he himself would. He finally plopped down on the edge of the bed and looked regretfully up at the gambler. "Sorry, Ezra, looks like your stuck with me."
Ezra sighed and settled on the bed beside him. "I hardly consider it 'stuck', my young friend. Bein' graced with your company allows me a brief respite from the over-zealous mothering tendencies of our well-meaning Mr. Wilmington."
Buck stared incredulously at Ezra and began spitting and sputtering about the ingratitude of certain people, and then squawked indignantly when Chris and Vin each grabbed an arm and unceremoniously pulled him out of the room. His loud grumbling could still be heard echoing down the hallway until Josiah and Nathan followed their three friends out and closed the door behind them.
After the others left, Ezra walked over to stare out the window. JD watched him for a few minutes as he stood there... not speaking, his shoulder's hunched, muscles tensed as the fingers of one hand tapped nervously against the wooden sash... and then walked over to stand beside him.
JD nudged Ezra with his shoulder and smiled when he finally looked at him. "What'cha thinkin' about?"
Ezra stared at the younger man for a few seconds, hesitating as he fought against his natural instincts to keep his thoughts guarded, and then sighed and turned back to the window. "My Uncle David."
JD nodded as Ezra confirmed what he'd suspected. "You gettin' anxious about maybe seein' him again?"
The gambler shrugged and glanced back over at the dark-haired gunfighter. Ezra briefly considered brushing off the young man's question, but he knew JD was just trying to be a friend. "A little, I guess. I don't really remember him. Just that he was my... father's... younger brother, and that I stayed with him at some point."
"Lit'l Ezra seemed to think pretty highly of 'im." JD heard Ezra stumble over the mention of his father, but purposely ignored it. He had asked about the man once, but all the Southerner would say about him was that his name was Charles Standish, that he wasn't exactly a shining example of fatherhood, and that his mother had left him when Ezra was only three.
Ezra blushed slightly at the mention of his five-year-old alter ego. "Did he... I mean... did I say much about my uncle?"
JD could see the pain in Ezra's eyes at not being able to remember and wished he could take it away. "You told us a few things about him."
Ezra ducked his head and ran a hand nervously through his hair. "Mr. Dunne? Would you... tell me about it? Tell me what I said? Please?"
JD, worried he'd say the wrong thing and hurt Ezra, started to suggest that they wait until Buck returned and let him explain it, but then he remembered all the times the gambler had been there for him, always ready and willing to help in any way he could. Now here was Ezra, finally asking for JD's help in return, and the young peacekeeper knew there was just no way he could turn him down.
JD stared nervously into Ezra's sad green eyes, thought about how Buck always handled him when he had a problem to solve, and decided to just try and follow his example. "I'll make a deal with ya, Ezra... you lay down an' rest like Nathan wanted ya to, an' I'll tell ya what we know about your uncle. Okay?"
Ezra hesitated for a few seconds as he fought off the slight resentment he felt at having their youngest ordering him around... it was bad enough he had to constantly deal with the others doing it... but then finally nodded and began pulling off his coat.
As soon as Ezra was settled on the bed, JD began talking, pushing himself to remember everything the Little One had told them. Ezra relaxed back against the pillows, quietly staring up at the ceiling as he listened intently to the boy's voice, praying his words would trigger something that would bring the memories of his uncle back to him.
JD watched Ezra's face as he talked and was amazed by the rapidly changing emotions he saw there. When the Southerner let his guard down, his face was one of the most expressive JD had ever seen. First there was pain and sadness as he was told that his Uncle David seemed to be the only person who had actually been glad to have him visit. Then when the soft-spoken gunfighter mentioned how Ezra had still had to do chores like at his Uncle Matthew's, not as punishment though, but as a way to make him part of David's family, the gambler's face had held a touch of fear at the mention of Matthew's name and then a contented happiness at the realization that his Uncle David had truly wanted him to feel like he belonged.
Ezra gave JD a surprised smile as the young peacekeeper's words brought a memory floating to the surface, and whispered, "I remember that. He let me help with nearly everything he did around the farm, and he talked to me the whole time... not just at me, but to me."
"What'd you talk about, Ezra?" JD kept his voice soft and low, hoping a quiet question or two would keep the gambler's memories coming.
Ezra's eyes took on an unfocused look as he stared at the younger man. "Everything. He explained about bein' a family and how the work we were doin' was just all a part of that... he made me feel wanted for the first time in my life. And somehow he managed to show me that nearly all of the things my mother had taught me were wrong without makin' her look bad in my young eyes. Not an easy task, I assure you, considerin' some of the strange lessons she forced on me in her misguided attempts at motherhood."
JD returned the small smile Ezra gave him, but didn't comment, not wanting to interrupt the flow of the older man's thoughts.
"He tried to teach me how to be a good person, but I'm not sure he succeeded there. Even at that young age, I'm afraid too much of my mother's influence ran deeper than even my Uncle David's words of wisdom could reach."
JD couldn't keep quiet this time... the pain and doubt in the gambler's voice were impossible to ignore. "Shoot, Ezra, I think he succeeded just fine." He leaned forward in his chair, and hesitantly placed his hand over the Southerner's. "Honest, Ezra, when he meets you again, I know he's gonna be real proud of the way you turned out."
Ezra looked skeptical, but JD still caught a glint of hope in his eyes.
"Ya remember anything else?" JD waited while Ezra stared down at the bed, deep in thought.
Finally Ezra nodded and smiled softly. "I remember him tellin' me that he was goin' to keep me there with him... that he wasn't goin' to let Uncle Matthew hurt me anymore." Suddenly he gasped and raised grief-stricken eyes to stare at JD.
"What's the matter, Ezra?"
"My mother. She... she came with... with Uncle Matthew to take me away, didn't she?" Ezra elt a deep sadness clutch at his heart as the events of that horrible day unfolded in his mind.
JD had been about to release Ezra's hand and sit back, feeling suddenly shy about his unaccustomed attempts at comforting , but when he felt the gambler start trembling, he tightened his hold instead. "Yeah, Ezra, she did. You remember what happened?"
Ezra nodded and, looking into JD's expressive eyes, saw that he knew, too. Ezra's voice was hoarse with emotion, and his fingers tightened painfully around the younger man's hand as he asked, "Why'd he let me go, JD? He swore he'd never let them take me away... he promised." He'd been embarrassed at first, speaking this way to their youngest member, but JD's gentle approach and sincere attempt to help had made it surprisingly easy to continue.
JD hated seeing his friend hurting and almost wished Ezra could have just remembered the good stuff and none of the bad. He sighed and told the gambler their theory on what might have caused his uncle's change of heart. "Well, the best we can figure is that Matthew had some kinda hold over your Uncle David... somethin' he did maybe that he didn't want no one to know about? You got any idea what it might've been?"
Ezra thought hard, and then finally shook his head. "I don't know. From what little I remember about him, I just can't imagine him doin' anything that my bastard uncle could have used against him." He frowned and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. "I wish I knew more...." Ezra stared sadly up at the younger man. "I still can't even remember his face."
"It'll come to you, Ezra, just don't push too hard. We sure don't want you gettin' another one of them headaches." JD could see the strain showing in his eyes and instinctively knew it was time to quit. He stood and, grabbing the blanket folded on the end of the bed, draped it over the gambler. "I think it's 'bout time you got some sleep, 'cause if Nathan comes back an' sees ya still awake, he's liable to shoot both of us."
Ezra gave JD a half-hearted scowl and tried to convince him he wasn't tired, but when his words of protest were interrupted by a huge yawn, Ezra knew he'd lost the argument. Ignoring his young friend's triumphant grin, he rolled over, turning his back on him, and closed his eyes. JD's grin widened when he heard the Southerner begin snoring gently only minutes later.
"Not tired... yeah right, Ezra," JD murmured as he quietly moved a chair over by the window and sat staring out at the town while he waited for the others to return.