Once everyone was back at the hotel, they woke the still-slumbering gambler and sat down to discuss what information had been gathered. Unfortunately, it wasn't much. Just as Ezra had warned, they'd all been met with a wall of silence the minute they mentioned either one of his uncles. The people they spoke to hadn't even bothered trying to pretend they didn't know the two names... most of them had just glared angrily and refused to say a word. A few of them, however, had seemed sympathetic, but were obviously too afraid to talk. Nathan had received a slightly friendlier welcome from those he spoke to until they heard Matthew Delacourte's name, and then each and every one of them regretfully shook their heads and turned him away.
Josiah was the only one who had found someone willing to talk.
Ezra tried to hide the disappointment he was feeling and turned to the preacher. "Well, Mr. Sanchez, care to enlighten us as to the identity of the sole person in this Godforsaken town who isn't under my uncle's control?"
Josiah sighed and lowered his large form into a chair. "Her name's Abigail Stokes, and she runs the boardinghouse at the edge of town. She's only lived here for two years, so she couldn't help any with your past, but she did explain how to get to Matthew's plantation. She also said there's a family named Standish that has a farm out on the road to a place called Barringer... gave me directions for that, too. And like you said, Ezra, she's definitely not under your uncle's control. In fact, she hates him... claims that Matthew Delacourte had her husband murdered last year. It was right around Thanksgiving. She says Delacourte left to visit relatives in Missouri a few days before it happened and was gone for over a month before he finally returned, but she's still convinced he was behind it."
JD, who'd been standing by the window idly watching the comings and goings down in the street, suddenly turned back to the others. "That was just before he came to Four Corners with Ezra's mother."
"Prob'ly saw it as a way t' add t' his alibi an' take care of Ezra at the same time. Then when his plans all went t' hell, he high-tailed it back here," Vin stated, glancing at the gambler and seeing him flinch slightly at the reminder of what his uncle had tried to do.
Chris nodded. "He knew it'd be the safest place to be if we came after 'im."
"Well, his alibi apparently worked, because if he was involved in her husband's murder like Mrs. Stokes thinks, he got away with it." Josiah looked at Ezra's drawn features and wondered how many more lives the bastard had ruined.
"Did she say why Delacourte would've wanted her husband dead?" Buck asked the preacher.
Josiah nodded and continued. "She told me her husband was a lawyer and had been working for a young couple who claimed Delacourte was trying to run them off their land because they wouldn't sell out to 'im. Guess he'd been tryin' to get his hands on it for a long time and thought when the original owner died and the son took over, he'd be eager to let it go so he could leave for greener pastures. Kid decided he wanted to try his hand at farming and turned Delacourte down flat. Mrs. Stokes said her husband had found evidence of other similar shady dealings Ezra's uncle had been involved in and was on the verge of making an air-tight case against him when he was killed. He was late gettin' home one night, and when she went to check on him, she found him in his office. He was slumped over his desk with the gun still in his hand and a bullet hole in his temple."
JD frowned in confusion. "He killed himself?"
Josiah shook his head. "Not according to Mrs. Stokes. She said there were bruises on his face and arms, and the office was messed up like there'd been a struggle. Of course, no one would listen to her when she pointed all this out. The Sheriff declared it a suicide and refused to investigate any further."
Chris ran a hand roughly through his hair in frustration. "No wonder no one'll talk to us... they're probably all afraid they'll end up the same way as Stokes."
JD glanced out the window at the peaceful scene and then looked back at the others. "But how he heck can just one person control a whole town like that?"
"People are scared of 'im, JD. Mrs. Stokes says Delacourte owns pretty much everything around here... most of the businesses, the bank... the law...." Josiah shrugged his shoulders. "With that kind of power, a man can cause a lot of misery for anyone who's foolish enough to get on his bad side."
Buck started pacing angrily when he saw the look of defeat that appeared in Ezra's eyes. "So now what the hell do we do?"
Chris sighed, pushed himself up out of the chair, and moved toward the door. "Ain't much we can do tonight, so I suggest we go grab us some dinner, get some sleep, an' then start out fresh in the morning."
Realizing he was right, the others stood and silently followed him out of the room and downstairs. They checked the dining room, and after seeing only a scattering of customers, went in and took seats at one of the larger corner tables.
The seven men sat talking as they waited to be served and were completely unaware of the silence that had fallen over the room with their appearance. Josiah was the first to notice what was happening. "Got awful quiet in here, didn't it?" he commented as he glanced around and saw the other diners openly staring at them.
The others looked up and finally saw the angry glares they were receiving.
"Yeah, an' it don't look like she's none to eager to wait on us," Buck muttered as he nodded at the serving girl just standing by the door that lead to the lobby.
Chris motioned for her to come over, but she merely stared at him for a moment and then turned her back on him. He was just pushing himself away from the table, intent on finding out what the hell was going on, when a short, balding man strode quickly into the room, spoke a few words to the girl, and then moved toward them. The men recognized him as the one who had checked them into the hotel.
Chris coolly stared up at him and asked, "There a problem?"
The little man puffed his chest out and swept them with a look of utter disdain as he spoke. "There most certainly is. Your kind aren't welcome in this hotel. I want you and your belongings out of here immediately."
Buck slowly unfolded himself from his chair and glared down at the man, who nervously backed away as he looked up into the angry gunfighter's steely blue eyes. "Who the hell are you, an' what do ya mean... our kind?"
"I-I'm—" he attempted to stutter out an explanation, but was interrupted by a tall, powerfully built man who had just entered the room. Matthew James Delacourte.
"He happens to be Mr. Edgar Callahan, the manager of my hotel, and he's merely following my orders to have you removed."
Ezra, who was sitting with his back to the door, paled when he heard the heavily accented, cultured voice that would forever be burned into his memory, and felt a pair of heavy hands clamp down on his shoulders. Steeling himself against the fear that instantly made his mouth go dry and his heart pound wildly in his chest, the gambler turned his head and looked up at the man who stood directly behind him... the man from his nightmares.
"Why, Uncle, what a... pleasant... surprise." Ezra forced himself to keep his voice steady and his face devoid of all expression. It may have not been visible to the strangers in the room, but to his friends, it was clear what an enormous effort it was for Ezra to sit in that chair and allow that animal to touch him.
Vin, who sat between Ezra and Buck, discreetly reached out to place one hand on Ezra's arm in quiet support and wrapped the other tightly around Buck's wrist to keep him from physically attacking Delacourte.
Matthew felt the smaller man tremble slightly and rejoiced at the power he still apparently had over his nephew. Tightening his grip even further, he smiled as he felt Ezra flinch imperceptibly at the sudden bruising pain being inflicted on his shoulders.
He shook his head at Ezra. "Hardly a surprise, dear nephew... since Maude saw fit to telegraph me and inform me of your impendin' arrival. She wanted to make sure I was prepared to defend myself against you and your ruffian friends as she called your associates. I believe her telegram mentioned somethin' about some nasty old nightmares that have been plaguing you?" Delacourte was swept with a huge sense of satisfaction as he watched Ezra's face grow impossibly paler and felt him shudder beneath his hands. "I take it you still haven't recovered from that unfortunate incident of feeble-mindedness you were experiencin' when I last saw you? Tsk... tsk. Perhaps it would have been kinder for your friends to have allowed your dear mother to place you in the asylum like she'd planned."
"Y-You're lyin'. She... she wouldn't have—" Ezra felt himself losing his tenuous hold on his composure and tore his eyes away from his uncle to stare anxiously at his friends.
Nathan immediately picked up on the pleading look in the gambler's green eyes and leaned over to whisper to Chris, "We need t' get Ezra outta here... now."
Chris took one look at Ezra's face and felt a surge of anger rush through him. Pushing his chair back, the black-clad leader of the Seven immediately moved to the younger man's side and wrapped his fingers tightly around Delacourte's arms. Leaning in close so that the larger man would be the only one to hear him, Chris pasted a grim smile on his face and ground out, "Let - him - go."
Matthew's smile slowly faded and his eyes widened slightly as he felt the delicate bones in his wrists grinding together beneath Chris Larabee's iron grip. He immediately released Ezra. "Certainly. No harm intended... just a friendly greetin' for my long, lost nephew." His voice lowered a notch as he continued. "And now I'd appreciate it if you and your gang of thugs would remove yourselves from these premises."
Loosening his hold only fractionally, Chris pushed Delacourte back away from Ezra and forced himself between them. "Gladly. Nathan... Buck... take Ezra outside. The rest of you go get our things an' meet us out on the boardwalk." As soon as he saw Ezra was safely out of the room, he shoved the lawyer away from him, and with a look of disgust twisting his hardened features, slowly wiped his hands on his pants.
Matthew's face tightened into a mask of anger at Chris's disparaging actions, and he had to clench his fists to keep from taking a swing at the blond. Seeing the other diners watching them closely, the pompous Southerner took a steadying breath and clamped down on the rage that threatened to consume him. "You're wastin' your time you know. The good people of this town have already heard the sad tale of Ezra's... mental problems... and the outrageous accusations he's been makin' about me. Naturally, they're sympathetic to his condition, but they're not about to embarrass him further by encouraging his insane quest to ruin me. So why don't you take the poor boy back home before somethin'... unfortunate... happens to him." He saw Chris's eyes narrow and quickly raised a placating hand. "Just a friendly warnin'."
"Chris. Don't." Vin came down the stairs and glanced in the dining room just in time to see his friend take a menacing step toward Delacourte. Stopping in the doorway, his arms loaded with their gear, he quietly urged Chris to walk away. "It ain't gonna help Ezra none if you go gettin' yourself thrown in jail."
Chris wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug look of satisfaction off of Delacourte's ugly face, but he knew Vin was right. This wasn't the time or the place. Chris grinned contemptuously at the over-confidant attorney as he turned to go. "Better watch your back... wouldn't want somethin' unfortunate to happen to you either."
Delacourte's smile disappeared at Chris's words. "Was that a threat, Mr. Larabee?"
Chris shook his head. "Nope, just the same friendly warnin' ya had for Ezra."
Vin chuckled softly as he followed his older friend out of the hotel. "Ezra's gonna be down-right proud of ya, cowboy. Ya finally learned how t' use some tact an' diplomacy."
Chris grinned back at him. "With all the preachin' he does about it... had to rub off on one of us sometime."
The seven men stood out on the boardwalk in the fading light with their belongings piled around them, ignoring the stares and angry mutterings of the people who were forced to step down into the street to get by.
"Well, now what?" JD asked as he stood slapping his hat against his leg nervously.
Chris glanced at him, but ignored his question, instead asking one of his own. "What I want to know is, how the hell did Maude know we were coming here?"
Buck had been watching Ezra closely and saw the flash of pain that crossed his face at the mention of his mother.
"I... I'm sorry, Mr. Larabee. I'm afraid I'm responsible for that. She'd sent word that she was comin' to visit, and I telegraphed her to let her know we were— I never imagined that she'd—" Ezra kept his head down as he stammered out an explanation, embarrassed at first at having to admit he'd actually trusted his mother. Then he recalled what his uncle had said about Maude and her plans for him when he was suffering from amnesia. Anger replaced the embarrassment as he raised his head to glare at his friends. "But perhaps I'd have been a bit more careful with what I told her if you had been truthful about her plans for me when I was ill. As I recall... you merely said she wanted to get me 'better medical help.' I personally don't see how bein' dumped in an asylum for the rest of my life could possibly be considered an improvement over the excellent treatment Mr. Jackson apparently gave me."
Buck shared a guilty look with the others, and then put a placating arm around Ezra's shoulders. "Now, pard, we were just tryin' to protect ya. We figgered you an' ol' Maude have enough hard feelin's between ya... an' if ya never remembered what happened anyway—"
Ezra shrugged Buck's arm off and moved a few steps away from him and the others. "When are y'all goin' to accept the fact that I'm a grown man, not your Little One anymore? I don't need or want your protection... just your support." Ezra wearily leaned against the railing lining the boardwalk and searched his friends' faces for some sign of understanding. Spotting a movement in the hotel window, the Southerner looked up and stiffened at the sight of his uncle laughing down at him.
The others immediately saw the change in him and turned to see what he was looking at. Josiah picked up his gear and moved to stand between the gambler and the hotel, blocking him from his uncle's view. He could see that Ezra was weaving slightly and knew he was quickly reaching his breaking point. "Chris, I think we need to get Ezra someplace where he can lie down. Why don't we try Mrs. Stokes' boardinghouse... she said she'd help anyway she could. I'm sure she'd be willing to rent us some rooms."
Chris had to agree with Josiah's assessment of the gambler's condition. Picking up his and Ezra's saddlebags, he gave the preacher a nod. "Lead the way."
Josiah put a steadying hand on Ezra's back and led him down into the street, carefully keeping himself as a shield against Delacourte's intimidating presence.
Matthew watched as the seven men moved slowly down the street, a scowl darkening his face as he realized where they were headed. Glancing behind him, he motioned demandingly for one of the diners to join him at the window.
The man glanced nervously at his wife, shook his head at her whispered protest, and quickly moved to answer the imperious summons.
"Yes, Mr. Delacourte?" Jefferson Harris owned a large farm just outside of town and was a highly respected, long standing member of the community himself, but had learned a long time ago that the comfortable life that he'd worked hard to achieve could all be destroyed with one word from the powerful figure standing beside him.
The arrogant Southerner turned back to the window and glared at his nephew's retreating back. "Get some of your men together, Harris. I've got a job for you."
Before they could get to the boardinghouse, the owner of the livery stopped them and informed them they had to remove their horses... he didn't want their business either. After a rather loud and frustrating discussion, they finally arrived at Mrs. Stokes' carrying they're saddlebags and trailing their horses behind them.
Josiah went up and knocked lightly on the front door. The door was opened and upon seeing the preacher's smiling face again, Abigail Stokes stepped out to join him on the porch. She looked to be in her early sixties and was quite an imposing figure of a woman, standing only an inch or so shorter than Josiah and carrying nearly the same weight on her large frame. Her hair was a silvery gray, pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck which would have given her face a harsh appearance if it weren't for her rosy cheeks and bright, compassionate blue eyes.
She took one look at their tired, dispirited faces and immediately understood the situation.
"Well, I see the charming citizens of Shelby have made you feel right at home. Not to worry, you're more than welcome here. There's plenty of space in the barn... why don't you see to your horses while I get your rooms ready." She answered their relieved smiles with a warm one of her own. "Have you eaten yet?" When they reluctantly told her they hadn't, she assured them she'd have a hot meal on the table within the hour.
Ezra started to follow the others, but was stopped by Mrs. Stokes who had looked into his weary eyes and realized this was the young man Mr. Sanchez had told her about... Matthew Delacourte's nephew. Seeing how done in he looked, she wrapped a plump arm around his waist and gently turned him back toward the house.
"Not you, sweetie. I think we need to get you off your feet for a bit." Ezra started to pull away, protesting he had to see to his horse, but she just tightened her hold on him and loudly overrode his objections. "Absolutely not. I'm sure one of your friends would be glad to take care of your horse for you. How 'bout you keep me company in the kitchen while I cook?" Not giving him another chance to refuse her, Abigail quickly led Ezra through the door.
JD's jaw dropped in amazement as he watched the two of them disappear into the house. "Did ya see that? She actually out-talked 'im!"
Vin laughed as he grabbed Rebel's reins and headed toward the barn. "I got a feelin' ol' Ezra might've finally met his match."
Chris and the others walked in the back door and stopped dead in their tracks, tired grins lighting up their faces.
A wealth of mouth-watering aromas wafted over them as they looked around the room. A pan of golden-crowned biscuits filled a bright yellow bowl in the center of the table, huge mugs of fresh, hot coffee steamed next to each plate, and in the middle of it all sat Ezra... perched on a stool next to the stove. He was decked out in a red checkered apron, held a spoon in each hand, and was diligently stirring the contents of two large pots.
Ezra looked up when he heard them come in, and ignoring their looks of surprise, waved a hand at the empty chairs surrounding the table. "Make yourselves at home, gentlemen... dinner will be ready momentarily. Mrs. Stokes is preparing our rooms, and she said to help yourselves to the coffee and biscuits while you wait."
Vin tugged on one of the apron's ruffled straps as he walked by and grinned. "Suits ya, pard."
Ezra blushed, but his green eyes twinkled merrily as he smiled at the tracker. "It does, doesn't it? Perhaps I should switch careers from peacekeeper and gambler to that of a chef. I'm sure the lovely Mrs. Stokes would be more than happy to provide me with lessons in the fine art of cooking."
Everyone laughed and sent out a silent thank you to the kind-hearted widow for somehow managing to put some life back into their friend. Ezra looked much better than he had when they'd first arrived at the boardinghouse. He was obviously still tired, but at least he wasn't bordering on collapse like he had been only a short while before.
They'd barely gotten settled at the table when Mrs. Stokes swept back into the kitchen. After a brief discussion, she managed to convince Ezra she didn't need anymore of his help and got him to sit down with his friends while she bustled around transferring the food into bowls which she then placed on the table.
Slipping into the chair beside Ezra's, Abigail proceeded to endear herself even further to the other six men when she filled the gambler's plate for him and, after ignoring his half-hearted protests, gently, but firmly, encouraged him to eat nearly every bite. And by peppering the others with a continuous stream of questions about their lives back in Four Corners, she managed to keep him from being the center of attention for a change... something Ezra was most grateful for.
By the time dinner was finished, the seven men felt they'd known Abigail Stokes all their lives. She'd fussed over them, shared her memories of her late husband, and just generally made them feel relaxed and free from worry for the first time in weeks. She'd argued vehemently against their offers of help with the cleaning up, but finally capitulated when she realized they truly did want to do it and weren't just being polite. Afterwards, she helped them get settled in their rooms, and once they were finally in their beds, they almost had the feeling they'd been tucked in.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness when Buck had had to offer up an explanation about Ezra's nightmares and the need for someone to watch over him while he slept, but seeing the blush of embarrassment that reddened the gambler's face, Abigail refrained from asking any questions and tenderly brushed his cheek with her fingers before nodding her understanding and leaving them alone.
Buck stared at Ezra after she left and grinned when he saw the blush the gambler was wearing deepen. "Damn, pard, she sure has taken a shine to you. Must be that southern charm of yours."
Ezra frowned at him as he began removing his clothes, readying himself for bed. "Nonsense. She was just as cordial to the rest of you."
"Yeah, right, Ezra." Buck's grin widened as he continued to tease his friend. "Funny... I don't remember her callin' none of us sweetie or darlin'... or worryin' over whether we ate enough or not... or noticin' how tired we all looked. You might as well face it, Ezra, she's decided to take ya under her wing, an' it looks like ya better get ready to be fussed over."
"All right, I concede that she did lavish a bit more of her attentions on me than the rest of you." Ezra sat on the edge of the bed and stared bemusedly at the door as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. "Why would she do that? You don't suppose she could be workin' for my uncle, do you?"
Buck sighed and shook his head. "Lord, Ezra, I know you have a problem trustin' people, but... Mrs. Stokes? Did it ever occur to you that she might just like ya?"
Ezra laughed bitterly. "Now why would I be foolish enough to think that? Everyone wants somethin' from me, Buck... it's just a matter of figurin' out what it is." He saw the frown that suddenly appeared on Buck's usually jovial features and had the grace to look ashamed.
"Ya don't really believe that about Abigail, do ya?" Buck decided that as soon as they got the problem with Ezra's nightmares solved, they were going to have to work on his feelings of self-worth. He knew the younger man seriously couldn't understand why anyone would want to be nice to him unless they could use him for something. Buck was determined to change that just as soon as he could.
"Sorry, Buck, don't mind me. I'm just tired, and I think that little incident with Uncle Matthew has caused all my old insecurities to surface again." Ezra ran a hand through his hair and gave Buck a crooked grin. "Let's face it... I'm just not used to Mrs. Stokes' brand of motherin'."
Buck thought briefly of Maude Standish's version of motherhood and shuddered. "Whew, ain't that the truth, pard. Now if old Maude started treatin' ya like that, then ya'd have reason to worry."
Ezra laughed and agreed heartily with the older man as he finished undressing. As soon as he'd slipped his nightshirt on, he climbed into the big old feather bed and snuggled gratefully into it's comforting softness while Buck settled himself in the large, over-stuffed chair that Abigail had insisted he move from her room into theirs. Turning the lamp down to a muted glow, Buck pulled out the book she'd loaned him and began to read, as always keeping one ear tuned to the man in the bed, ever vigilant for those first signs of another nightmare.
Buck had caught himself drifting off twice, and when it happened a third time, he finally decided he'd better wake Nathan to take the next shift. He was sitting on the edge of the chair, stretching as he tried to work out the stiffness in his muscles, when he heard a soft whimper come from the bed and saw Ezra's shoulders begin to shake.
"Ezra? You okay?" Buck moved over to sit on the edge of the mattress and laid a hand on the gambler's back. He leaned over to look down into Ezra's face to see if it was the start of another nightmare and saw that his friend's eyes were still closed, his cheeks glistening with tears. "Ezra... can you hear me?"
It was obvious the Southerner was dreaming, but it was completely different from his usual nightmare. There were no panicked gasping breaths, no cries for help, just the quiet sounds of Ezra's weeping and a few softly mumbled words. Buck gently wiped away the tears and bent closer to try and decipher what Ezra was saying.
"Mama... no... pwease. Not Unca Maffew... nooo...."
Buck felt his heart clench at the sound of that sweet little voice he remembered so well. "Little One?"
"Mama... no! Don't w'et him huwt d'em... pwease, mama?!" Ezra's words became clearer as he began to stir restlessly under the covers.
Buck was debating on going after the healer, when Nathan opened the door and hurried in.
"I was jus' gettin' up t' see if ya needed t' be spelled for awhile when I heard 'im cry out. He dreamin' again?" Nathan asked Buck as he leaned in to get a look at Ezra's face. "Ezra?"
Nathan shook the gambler lightly to try and awaken him, but all he did was roll over onto his back and continue to cry.
The two men looked up when Mrs. Stokes came in, wrapping a worn, blue flannel robe around her as she stared anxiously at the three men. Her gaze softened as it landed on Ezra and she saw the distress he was in. "Oh, the poor sweet lamb. Is it one of his nightmares?"
Nathan nodded at her. "'Fraid so, ma'am."
"I don't wanna go wif you, Mama... I wanna stay wif Buck!"
Nathan stared in shock at the gambler and then at Buck. "The Little One?"
Buck nodded and tried again to reach the younger man. "Ezra? It's just a dream, pard. Nathan an' I are here with ya... wake up now."
But nothing he said seemed to help. The tears continued to stream down Ezra's face as his body began to tremble violently.
"I won't go wif you, Mama. W'eave me a'wone! I hate you, Mama!!"
Ezra's head jerked to the side as if he'd been hit. Nathan and Buck knew he was back in the clinic with Maude and would have sworn they could hear the horrible sound of her slap echoing through the room again.
JD stirred restlessly and slowly opened his eyes. What was that? Something had woken him up, but he wasn't sure yet what it had been. A noise? Voices? He heard raised voices coming from one of the rooms down the hall and realized Ezra must be having another nightmare. He was about to get out of bed to see if Buck needed help with him, when he heard Nathan's door open and close and the heavy tread of his footsteps crossing to the gambler's room.
JD decided he'd just be in the way and had started to settle back under the covers, when a large, callused hand was suddenly clamped over his mouth. His heart jumped and started thudding rapidly in his chest as he struggled against the arms that pinned him to the bed. JD strained to see the faces of his attackers, but it was too dark, and all he could make out was that there were four of them... and they were big.
He fought as they pulled him roughly up out of the bed, his mind working furiously, trying to figure out what they wanted. Was he being kidnapped? Were they going to kill him? He had his answer a moment later when he found himself held securely between two of the men, while the other two positioned themselves in front and in back of him. JD gasped when the one standing behind him grabbed a handful of his long, thick, dark hair and jerked his head back, holding it still while the one in front jammed a dirty rag in his mouth.
JD kept waiting for them to say something... give him some explanation for the beating that he was sure was coming... but none of the thugs said a word as they started raining blows down on him. The only sounds JD heard as he struggled to stay conscious were the painful thuds of their fists hammering into his flesh, and the terrified pounding of his heart.
With a strangled gasp, Ezra's eyes flew open, and he sat up in the bed. He stared dazedly around him, one hand pressed against his cheek... the other clutching at the sheet tangled around his waist. Buck's heart twisted as he watched him and realized it was exactly how the Southerner had looked after he'd received the slap from his mother.
"Ezra? Ya okay, pard?" Buck spoke softly as he reached out and touched him lightly on the arm.
Ezra turned his face toward Buck, but the older man could see that he still wasn't totally awake yet. His green eyes were awash with confusion and fear, and the painful knowledge that his mother had struck him. "B-Buck? What—"
Just as Nathan began to try and examine the gambler, a loud crash and a muffled cry came from one of the other rooms.
Mrs. Stokes saw the two men shoot worried looks first at Ezra and then at the door, and hurried forward to help. "Go check on the others... I can handle things here."
They stepped back, still hesitating as she sat down on the bed beside Ezra and gently wrapped her arms around him. "Come here, darlin'. Let Abigail take care of you."
After only a moment's pause, Ezra melted into her warm embrace. As soon as they saw that the gambler would be all right, Buck and Nathan hurried out of the room.
The four men were having a hard time hanging on to their young victim and realized they'd seriously underestimated him.
Worry surged through JD as he thought of the cries he'd heard moments before. Maybe it hadn't been Ezra dreaming after all. Maybe the others were in trouble, too. JD ignored the pain that was being inflicted on him and used every bit of his adrenaline-charged strength to fight off the thugs.
"Damn it, hold 'im!" the man behind JD ordered after taking a blow to the ribs from one of the kid's flailing arms.
"Jesus! I thought he'd be the easy one!" The man to JD's left scrambled to get a fresh grip on him, but was a second too late and went tumbling into the dresser as a fist smashed across the bridge of his nose.
JD took advantage of the sudden freedom to rip the gag out of his mouth and get off one shout of warning before a hand was again clamped over his face. It was only a matter of minutes before the sounds of approaching footsteps could be heard in the hallway.
"Shit! Someone's comin'! Jus' leave the damned note an' let's get the hell outta here!" JD was knocked to the floor by a punishing blow to his back and lay stunned as his attackers pushed and shoved their way back out the window. He was just struggling to his feet when Buck and Nathan burst into the room, followed closely by Chris, Vin, and Josiah.
"JD! You all right, boy?!" Buck rushed to help JD stand and kept an arm around him when he felt him stagger slightly.
JD shrugged off Buck's support and moved unsteadily toward the window. "I'm fine, but they're gettin' away!"
Chris grabbed the younger man as he tried to climb through the window and pulled him back into the room. "Get back in here before ya get yourself shot." Chris eased the curtains back and peered out into the night. Whoever had attacked JD had apparently disappeared into the trees surrounding the yard.
Vin joined him at the window. "Musta climbed up that trellis an' on t' the porch roof." He looked up at the overcast night sky and shrugged. "Ain't gonna be able t' track 'em tonight... we'll have t' wait till mornin'."
Chris shook his head as he closed the window and drew the drapes, then turned to light the lamp on the night table. "No sense in tryin' then either. We know who they're workin' for, an' even if we find 'em, you can be sure they'll have rock-solid alibis."
"Did ya get a look at 'em, kid?" Vin asked, frowning as he got his first look at JD's face.
"Nah, it was too dark. The only thing I could tell about them was that they were all bigger'n me."
Buck snorted. "That's a lotta help."
"Shut up, Buck." JD scowled at his older friend, and then winced as the movement pulled on the cut over his right eye.
Now that he had light to work with, Nathan began checking JD for injuries. "Well, they sure did a number on ya."
JD sat up a little straighter and tried for a cocky grin, which failed miserably due to his rapidly swelling lower lip. "Don't worry, I got my share of licks in."
"Did they say anything, JD?" Chris asked.
JD shook his head. "Not till they heard you all comin', then they just said let's get outta here or somethin' like that." His eyes lit up as he remembered what else he'd heard. "Wait... they said somethin' 'bout a note."
"A note?"
JD thought a minute. "Yeah, one of 'em said, 'Just leave the damned note an' let's get outta here.'"
The men glanced around the room, and it was Josiah who finally found the small, folded piece of paper lying under the edge of the bed. After reading it, he handed it to Chris. "'Leave while you still can.'"
Vin shared a look with the gunfighter. "Another friendly warnin' from Ezra's uncle?"
JD winced as Nathan pressed lightly on his bruised ribs. "I sure wouldn't call it friendly." Suddenly he looked up at the others as he recalled the sound he'd heard earlier. "I heard someone cry out just before they jumped me... are you guys all right?"
Buck made a calming motion as he saw the worried look that immediately appeared on Chris's face. "It was Ezra. He had a dream." Before he could ask why Ezra'd been left alone, Buck reassured him, "Abigail's with him."
Nathan looked up and frowned. "It weren't his usual nightmare though. He was dreamin' 'bout Maude's visit to the clinic."
Buck stared sadly up at Chris. "He remembered the slap. He looked an' sounded just like he did when it really happened."
JD gazed worriedly at Nathan. "He... he's not the Little One again, is he?"
Nathan continued to wash out JD's cuts as he shook his head. "Jus' in the dream. He said Buck's name when he finally woke up... it was definitely Ezra."
"You sure you're okay, kid?" Buck waited for JD's assurances that he was fine and then stood up and headed for the door. Now that he knew the boy was going to be all right, his worry turned to Ezra and how the gambler would handle the knowledge of what his mother had done... and the fact that they had kept it from him.