Luckily, the road that led to Katherine's was sparsely traveled, and Vin found it fairly easy to track Buck and Ezra. Once they reached the turnoff for the cemetery, the others held back while he dismounted and carefully scanned the area.
While they waited, Chris's gaze settled on the path that wound through the trees toward the graveyard. He thought about Ezra, his heart already heavy with grief at the prospect of saying good-bye to a father he'd barely known, walking into that cemetery and discovering what had been done to David Standish's grave. Just thinking about Sarah and Adam being violated in such a way filled him with rage, he could only imagine how much harder it must be for Ezra to actually be experiencing it. Chris's heart ached for the younger man, and he worried that the hatred and need for revenge he must be feeling would make Ezra careless. He could only hope that Buck was still with him and would be able to help the gambler hold it together.
Vin jerked his head in the direction of the creek. "Best I can figger, Buck took the horses down t' the water while Ezra walked t' the graveyard... prob'ly wanted t' give 'im some time alone with his pa." He looked worriedly up at Chris as he continued. "Can see where Ezra come back down the trail an' crossed over toward the creek, but looks like only one horse rode back up outta there. Whichever one of 'em it was took off toward Katherine's at a purty good clip."
JD shifted nervously in his saddle, his fingers tightening around the reins he held as his fear for what had happened to his two brothers grew. Tearing his hazel eyes away from the worried frowns that had appeared on the older men's faces, JD stared instead at the small stream that wound through the trees.
Just as Vin started down the grassy bank toward the water to try and find some clues as to what might have happened to the other horse and rider, JD spotted a flash of color through the bushes lining the path.
"Vin, there's something layin' over by those trees." He and the others quickly dismounted, tied off their horses, and followed the sharpshooter.
"Aw hell," Vin breathed as he looked down at the familiar plum-colored tailcoat. Kneeling down, he carefully lifted the garment and passed it up to Josiah, revealing the rest of their friends' things... both men's guns, Ezra's gold brocade vest, and Buck's hat and neckerchief.
"Buck.... " JD paled when he saw the dried spots of blood that covered the faded blue cloth.
"Son of a bitch," Chris growled as he jerked his hat off and slapped it angrily against his leg. He raked his hand through his hair in frustration and looked at Vin who was walking across the clearing, following the path of trampled grass that led off into the trees. "Anything?"
Vin shrugged his shoulders as he looked up. "More 'n one horse comin' in an' out of these trees, but whether or not one of 'em was Buck or Ezra's—"
"Chris!" Nathan hurried over to their black-clad leader holding out a crumpled piece of paper. "Found this in the bushes back there."
Chris snatched the note out of the healer's dark hand and read it out loud, his anger burning brighter with every word. By the time he finished, his long, lean body was trembling with rage. Jamming his hat back on his head, he turned and strode back toward the horses. "This ends now!"
The others hurriedly grabbed up the rest of Buck and Ezra's belongings and followed after him, worry for their missing brothers lying heavy on their hearts.
Matthew bent his head down and spoke quietly into Ezra's ear. "Well, Nephew, what's it goin' to be? Are you finally goin' to stand on your own two feet and take your punishment? Or are you goin' to do like you've always done, let someone else suffer in your place."
A violent tremor of disgust tore through Ezra as his uncle's hot breath stroked across his face and neck, but out of fear of possible retaliation against Buck, he remained silent.
Delacourte felt the shudder of revulsion that shook Ezra's slender body and grinned evilly. "Are you prepared for the added guilt? Or are you so cold that it doesn't touch you? After all, that's what your mother's taught you all these years, isn't it? Don't let anyone get close to you. That way you can use people and then toss them aside when you're through with them... just turn your back, walk away, and leave them to deal with the repercussions of your actions. Just like you used your father and that little whore."
Buck shook off the men holding him and strained at his bindings, desperate to get his hands on Delacourte. "You're gonna die for this, ya crazy son of a bitch!! The others'll hunt you down an' make ya wish you'd never been born!!"
Ignoring the enraged gunfighter's threat, Matthew tightened his hold on Ezra and continued tormenting his prey. "For twenty-three years you kept silent... never told a soul what happened, not even your precious mama. Never even tried to get back at me for what I did once you were old enough to take me on." He felt victory close at hand when he heard the younger man whisper that he hadn't been able to remember it before. "Couldn't remember, Ezra? Wasn't it just that you didn't want to remember? I think you kept it buried so you wouldn't have to do anything about it, so you wouldn't have to do the honorable thing and avenge their deaths, because you were too cowardly to come back and face me like a man."
Ezra weakly shook his head as his mind flooded with doubts. "No... it... it wasn't like that...."
Buck's heart twisted when he saw the look of pain and confusion on the gambler's face. Keeping his voice low and firm, the gunfighter tried to pull Ezra's attention away from his uncle. "It's lies, Ezra, all lies. Come on now... you know the truth. Concentrate on that an' don't let 'im do this to ya." He smiled encouragingly when he saw the younger man's eyes finally focus on him. "That's it, pard... show 'im who the hell ya are. I know ya can—"
CRACK!
Buck's blue eyes widened in shock as the hard, braided leather landed diagonally across his back and curled over his right shoulder. Pain, deep and searing, forced a harsh gasp from his lungs and brought an instant rush of tears to his eyes. He'd seen Delacourte glance in his direction and nod, but hadn't known what it meant.
And for Buck, what was a hundred times worse than the pain, was seeing the guilt and defeat that filled Ezra's eyes the moment he realized what was happening, and knowing Delacourte had used him to put it there.
"Damn you, Ezra Standish!! Don't you give in to him... not for me! Don't you dare do that to me!!" Buck screamed at the gambler, trying to shock him out of the despair he could see he was slipping into. He knew full well it was going to earn him more lashes, but Buck much preferred the physical pain to the mental anguish he'd have to bear if Delacourte won because of him.
Another nod and twice more the whip struck, each blow producing a fresh blaze of fire over Buck's skin and leaving him panting with the strain of holding back his screams. Buck saw Ezra flinch and heard him utter a deep moan of pain each time, as if he were receiving the lashes himself, and Buck knew he was going to give in.
"Ezra, please... don't do it... don't let him—" Buck couldn't help the cry that escaped his lips as the fourth blow landed, crossing the other three and igniting what felt like every nerve ending in his back with tendrils of flame. His voice was reduced to a harsh, rasping whisper as he begged the young Southerner, "Ezra... please... don't...."
Matthew released his grip on Ezra's hair and held up his hand, bringing a temporary halt to Buck's torture. "Well, Nephew, it's up to you now."
Ezra drew in a ragged breath and tore his gaze away from the pleading look Buck was giving him. Wearily closing his eyes, he let his head drop forward until his chin rested on his heaving chest. "I don't understand what you want from me. Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"
"Kill you? Good heavens no." Delacourte tilted his head forward to whisper in the younger man's ear again. "I don't want you dead... I want to own you. I invested a great deal of hard work and time in you when you were a child, Ezra. I'd planned on forging you into someone who would serve me faithfully for as long as I needed you." He gave the smaller man a rough shake and his voice deepened and turned harsh with anger as he continued, "But you managed to manipulate everyone around you into feelin' sorry for you, made them think you were just a poor vulnerable victim to your big, bad uncle."
Buck's mind whirled as he fought to think through the pain and understand what Matthew was saying. <<but... Ezra had been that poor vulnerable victim. He'd only been five years old... just a child. How the hell could Delacourte think he'd been capable of manipulating anyone?>> "He was just a little boy, for God's sakes! He couldn't've done any of that shit you're accusin' 'im of!"
Matthew acted like he hadn't even heard Buck... all of his attention was focused on forcing Ezra to bend to his will. "And look where it got you... back with your mama... tied to her apron strings again. Instead of receivin' the benefits of the superior education I had planned for you, you ended up under Maude's dubious tutelage. Now here you are, a washed up gambler and con artist playin' at bein' a lawman... workin' for the upstandin' citizens of a dusty little town who look down on you an' consider you no better than the vermin you're supposedly protectin' them from." Matthew felt the smaller man begin to tremble and smiled in triumph. He had him... the boy was finally going to be his again. "Was it all worth it, Ezra? Was it worth your father's life... and the girl's? Think of where you could've been now if only you'd had the grit to conform to my rules." He paused for a few moments to allow the younger man's guilt to build again. "But out of the goodness of my heart, I'm willin' to give you one last chance to let me make somethin' of you. All you have to do is say yes. Of course, you'll have to accept a small bit of punishment for your earlier transgressions, but after that's over, I'll allow Mr. Wilmington and the rest of your friends to live as long as they agree to leave town immediately, with no further reprisals against me and no attempts to lure you back."
Ezra's mind raced as he tried to decide what to do. It was clear that the years of hate and obsession with power had tipped his tyrannical, controlling uncle over the edge into insanity, and it made it nearly impossible to tell how he would react to anything Ezra said or did. The one thing he knew for certain was that Matthew Delacourte's promises were worthless... no matter what Ezra agreed to, he knew Buck would never be allowed to live. His uncle would eventually kill them both, claim self-defense, and either force the others to leave, or, when they refused as Ezra knew in his heart they would, find a way to kill them, too.
He stared at Matthew's men. It was obvious that they were just aching for someone to deliver them from his uncle's control, but he wasn't sure if they'd rally behind him if he tried to mount another attack on Matthew, or give into their fear and turn against him. The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't have the strength left to take the much larger man down on his own.
Ezra's eyes shifted to Buck, and his stomach clenched when he saw the pain the battered gunfighter was trying so hard to hide from him, another innocent person paying the price for being his friend. If he tried to rebel against Matthew and failed, he had no doubt that Buck would be receiving the brunt of the punishment his uncle dished out.
His thoughts rapidly switched to the rest of their family. Hopefully they had been missed by now, and the others were on their way to effect a rescue, but would they be in time? He wasn't concerned for himself, only for Buck. He had to do everything he could to keep Buck alive until help arrived. Ezra glanced at his father and Amanda's remains and knew he'd never survive the guilt if he failed and allowed one more person to die because of him, especially if that person was Buck.
Quickly weighing his options, Ezra decided that the best way for him to divert his uncle's attention away from his friend was to accept Matthew's offer. If he knew his uncle, the sadistic bastard would want to draw out his beating for as long as he could, and hopefully, it would buy enough time for the others to save Buck. Even if he, himself, did not survive, Ezra knew it would have been worth the sacrifice.
Tearing his gaze away from Buck's pleading eyes so as not to see the pain and disappointment he knew would be there, Ezra stared straight ahead and quietly gave his uncle what he wanted.
"Yes."
Delacourte released Ezra's arms and stood waiting.
Wincing against the pins and needles that raced up and down his arms as circulation was restored, Ezra began slowly walking across the yard. He didn't have to be told... he knew exactly where his uncle wanted him. He'd known all along that this trip would somehow end here... right back where his nightmare had started.
Ezra kept his eyes on the weathered gray post that rose out of the ground near the corner of the barn. There were two sets of restraints fastened to it, one at the top, and one in the middle. His heart hammered painfully in his chest and his mouth went dry at the sight of the bottom pair of shackles. Small circlets of iron that had been specially made for a child's wrists... his wrists. He could still feel the bite of that metal cutting into his tender skin and was sure he could still see the bloodstains that had coated them after his last whipping.
Stopping in front of the post, Ezra waited. He knew his uncle had followed him across the yard and now stood close behind him, but when the large, calloused hand snaked over his shoulder and touched the collar of his shirt, Ezra couldn't help but flinch away.
"Kirby."
The whip quickly slashed across Buck's tortured skin, ripping an involuntary cry of pain out of him.
Ezra froze in horror as he suddenly understood the true nature of his punishment.
"That's right, Nephew, there's one little condition I forgot to mention," Delacourte explained offhandedly as he stepped closer to Ezra and, reaching his other arm around the smaller man, began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "Every time you show even the slightest reaction to any part of what I'm about to do, Mr. Wilmington will suffer the consequences by receivin' progressive hits from the whip... one this time, two the next time you move, then three the next... and so on. If you want to save him from that, you'll have to stand up here and take everything I give you like a man."
Ezra repressed a shudder at the touch of his uncle's meaty fingers brushing against his chest as he carefully worked each tiny button loose. His stomach rolled and bile rose hot and bitter into his throat as the larger man pressed his body lightly against him, his breath stirring the fine hairs on the back of Ezra's neck.
Matthew saw Ezra turn his head slightly and knew he was focusing on Wilmington, probably using the physical reminder of the other man's pain to keep himself from reacting to what he was doing to him. He chuckled softly in amusement at the futility of his nephew's plan and stepped up his torture, lightly stroking Ezra's smooth skin as he eased the shirt off the smaller man's shoulders and down his arms. "It won't work, Ezra. You can stare at your friend all you want, but eventually you'll make a mistake. A twitch, a gasp, a whimper... that's all it will take and you'll be hearin' Mr. Wilmington scream as the whip digs into his back, rippin' through his flesh."
Ezra blinked away the tears of frustration that welled up in his eyes as he struggled not to move. He knew his uncle was right, knew that the bastard would keep at him, keep trying every vile thing he could think of until he forced him to react. Ezra stared helplessly at Buck and silently tried to convey how sorry he was for the suffering he knew he was going to cause him.
Buck watched Delacourte tormenting Ezra and felt a bolt of pure hatred stab through him. Ignoring the promise of more pain, the enraged gunfighter began hurling every threat and invective he could think of at the other man, hoping he would turn his anger on him and leave Ezra alone.
Matthew raised his head, tearing his hungry eyes away from Ezra, and glared at Buck. "I find myself growin' weary of your constant interruptions, Mr. Wilmington." Gesturing at the man standing closest to Buck, he quietly ordered, "Gag him."
Buck managed to get a few well-placed kicks in, but was easily overpowered and a dirty rag was wedged between his teeth and then tied tightly around his head. Closing his eyes for a moment, Buck weakly rested his forehead against his arm. The constant pain from his back and his earlier beating was starting to take its toll on him, and he was finding it harder and harder to fight off the encroaching darkness that threatened to drag him under. But the thought of leaving Ezra at the mercy of that sadistic bastard was enough to give him the strength to resist it, so he forced his eyes open and locked his gaze on Ezra's in an attempt to let his friend know he wasn't alone.
Wrapping his huge hands around Ezra's slender ones, Delacourte slowly raised the gambler's arms over his head and rested his palms against the pole. Then he released his hold, confident that his nephew would stay in position and, removing a small key from his vest pocket, carefully locked the shackles in place around Ezra's wrists.
Ezra had all he could do not to scream as he felt those hated metal bands close around his wrists. Everything he'd endured as a child while trapped against that post came rushing back to him with the touch of those shackles against his skin.
Matthew tucked the key back in his pocket and stood admiring Ezra's back... the broad shoulders, the sculpted muscles, the lightly tanned skin... and the faded remains of his last visit to the plantation.
"I see you still have a few mementos of the last lesson I gave you." Delacourte reached out and slowly traced his fingers over the pale scars, a grim smile of satisfaction settling on his face. After a moment, he stepped back and clapped his hands together. "Well, I think it's about high time we continued your education." Glancing at the men clustered in front of the barn, he ordered, "Haskins, bring me the other whip."
Jacob Haskins had to cross behind Buck to get to where the second whip lay coiled just inside the barn door. His face paled as he got a good look at the damage that had been done to the gunfighter's back, and it was all he could do to make himself pick up the evil looking length of rawhide. In the months that Jacob had been working on the plantation, he'd been forced to assist in some of Delacourte's less savory undertakings. But nothing he'd had to do before even compared to the cruelty being inflicted on these two men. As frightened as he was of Delacourte's temper, he knew he would never be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to stop what was about to happen.
Haskins moved slowly back out into the yard and then stopped. He looked down at the whip wrapped loosely around his fist and then raised his head and peered nervously at his boss. "Um... Mr. Delacourte, sir? Are ya sure we have t' do this? I mean, your nephew'll prob'ly cooperate jus' fine with ya as long as ya let his friends go. I'm sure ya don't really need t'—" He stopped suddenly and stared in horrified disbelief. "no... wait... I'm sor—"
Before anyone could even react, Matthew had pulled his gun and fired at the defenseless man, striking him squarely in the chest.
While the others watched in stunned silence, Jacob Haskins staggered back several steps... gazed uncomprehendingly down at the bright red stain spreading rapidly across his shirt... and then with a final gasp, sank lifelessly to the ground.
Heaving a sigh of exasperation, Matthew slowly brought his still-smoking revolver around until it was aimed at the rest of his men. "Anyone else care to question my orders? No? I thought not."
As Delacourte casually slipped his gun back into its holster, he saw two of the men moving hesitantly toward the figure lying crumpled in the dirt. "Leave him. He can be a reminder of what will happen to anyone else who might take it into their head to disobey me. Just bring me that damned whip... I'm sure my dear nephew is gettin' tired of waitin' for me."
Ezra tore his eyes away from Haskins body and stared incredulously at his uncle, who stood calmly removing and folding his tailored coat as if nothing had happened. He opened his mouth to respond and just as quickly snapped it shut again as he suddenly recognized the trap he'd been about to step into.
Matthew nodded approvingly at his young nephew as he took the whip being held out to him and slowly uncoiled the thick length of braided leather. "Very good, Ezra, maybe you are capable of learnin' after all."
Ezra had all he could do not to react when Delacourte snapped the whip at the ground near his feet, taking a few practice swings to loosen up.
"Let's see... how many lashes should we make it? Ten?"
Ezra closed his eyes and clenched his jaw shut as, with a quick snap of Matthew's wrist, the tip of the rawhide struck the heel of his right boot.
"Hmmm... no... not enough to really be considered a lesson. Twenty maybe?"
Another crack and the length of rawhide coiled sharply around Ezra's left ankle, biting into the fine leather of his boot... not penetrating deep enough to do any physical damage, but enough to remind him of the pain that was coming.
As the memory of the searing agony he'd endured during his uncle's last whipping washed over Ezra, his eyes flew open and searched frantically for Buck's, desperately needing something familiar to hold onto.
"No, twenty is rather excessive, and with my luck, would probably either kill you or cripple you... you wouldn't be much good to me then." Delacourte tapped the thick leather handle against his leg as he thought. "I think we'll settle on a safe middle ground... fifteen should do it. Enough to drive home the fact that your soul is mine now, but not enough to do any permanent damage."
Matthew sauntered slowly around Ezra, trailing the long, sinuous whip behind him through the dirt, coming to a stop directly in front of the smaller man and intentionally blocking his view of Buck. "Are you ready, Ezra?" He was somewhat surprised to see a spark of defiance flash in his nephew's bright green eyes and moved quickly to snuff it out. Delacourte's voice dropped to a coarse whisper as he leaned in closer to his prey. "So you think you're tough enough to keep Mr. Wilmington alive? He's already felt the whip four times... how much more do you think he'll be able to stand? How many times can you allow yourself to slip before your friend joins those two poor souls over there and becomes just another victim of your cowardice?"
Ezra stared worriedly at Buck and knew his uncle was right. Sweaty and shaking, dark purple and blue bruises standing out in stark relief against his pale skin... it wasn't hard to see that the lanky gunfighter wouldn't be able to take much more of the brutal treatment. But with a reassuring nod and a ghost of a smile forcing itself around the filthy gag, Buck was still able to give Ezra the support he needed to resist his uncle's attempts to distract him. The only thing Delacourte's taunting had accomplished was to help the younger man stay focused on the present.
A slight narrowing of his uncle's eyes was all the warning Ezra had before the angry man struck out and landed a bruising back-handed slap to his jaw, slamming his head against the wooden post. The gambler's vision blurred, and he could feel blood trickling down the side of his face from a cut on his temple, but after a couple of shaky breaths, Ezra was able to shrug off the blow and return his gaze to Buck... drawing strength from the glimmer of pride he saw in his friend's eyes.
Delacourte heard his men shifting restlessly behind him and turned to glare at them, and was struck with a momentary sense of unease as he got a good look at their faces. It had disappeared the moment he turned around, but before they had managed to hide it, Matthew had caught a glimpse of admiration on the men's faces... and there was no doubt in his mind that it had been directed at Ezra and not at him.
Whipping back around to look at his nephew, he saw that the younger man had noticed it, too.
Before moving behind Ezra, Delacourte leaned in close and ground out a warning. "Enjoy your pathetic moment of victory while you can, because it's goin' to be your last. You and your foolishly loyal friend will pay dearly for it."
Ezra kept it from showing on his face, but a cold, hard knot of fear had lodged itself in his chest at his uncle's words. An honest fear of the pain he knew was coming, and an even deeper fear that he wouldn't be able to protect Buck from further harm.
The knot moved up into his throat and his breathing quickened when he heard the soft rustling of the whip as Matthew settled himself into position. Every muscle in Ezra's body tensed and his trembling fingers wrapped themselves around the length of chain overhead as he realized his punishment was about to begin.
Locking his eye's on Buck, he saw the first lash coming. The older man was struggling desperately to get free, shaking his head violently and loosing a muffled scream of rage from behind the gag as he saw Delacourte's arm raise up and start forward.
Ezra stiffened and sucked in a strangled breath of air as the stroke landed and pain exploded across his naked, unprotected back... it was every bit as bad as he remembered. He cast a frightened look at Kirby who stood behind Buck with an eager, anticipatory grin on his face, just waiting for the chance to lay into his prisoner again. And Ezra now knew for sure that, no matter how badly he wished it otherwise, he would eventually give him that chance... that he would never be able to withstand the full fifteen lashes without giving into the urge to move away from the pain or cry out.
Four more times the whip whistled through the air and dug unmercifully into Ezra's back and sides, and he had to forcibly lock his knees to keep himself from sagging against the post. Bile again rose up in his throat as he felt the blood begin to flow slowly from the wounds, and it took all of the determined gambler's concentration to resist the urge to vomit.
Buck held tight to the lifeline that ghosted across the yard between them and let the tears that Ezra refused to shed stream down his own pale cheeks... voiced the moans that Ezra kept buried deep in his chest... and if it wasn't for the gag blocking its escape, Buck would gladly have released the scream that Ezra had locked away in his tortured mind.
Delacourte watched his nephew carefully as he stopped to rest his arm. Sweat poured off of the younger man, mingling with the blood streaming down his back and adding to the burning pain of the lash marks. Matthew saw the shudders that shook him with every breath he took and knew that it wouldn't be long now. He had to admit that Ezra was holding up much better than he'd initially thought he would, but Matthew was certain that one or two more well- placed strokes would do the trick.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Delacourte glanced over Ezra's shoulder at his men and was shaken to see that the look of admiration was back, and this time they made no effort to hide it. Even Kirby, his right-hand man and staunch supporter, had a shadow of doubt on his face now. Delacourte knew that if he didn't break Ezra soon, he stood the chance of losing everything. The little bastard would win after all.
Matthew turned his furious gaze back on his nephew as he felt fresh hatred for the young man boil up in him, nearly choking him with its intensity. "Maude always said you had the devil in you. She must've been right... how else could you manipulate people the way you do? And now you're bringin' my own men under your spell, tryin' to turn them against me...."
Ezra leaned his head wearily against the post and used the brief respite from the punishing blows to try and get his bearings. The world spun sickeningly around him, and even though he hated to give up his connection to Buck, he finally had to close his eyes to try and make it stop. The pain was vicious and unrelenting... a constant burning and throbbing that was slowly but surely pushing him closer to the edge.
Deprived of Buck's supportive presence, Ezra's mind started to drift and he began to imagine he could hear voices and sounds from his past blending with those that swirled around him in the present. The crack of a whip followed by a child's scream of pain... his uncle's soft mutterings about the devil and spells... his mother's voice telling him what a disappointment he was... how was he supposed to know what was real?
Ezra shook his head slightly as he tried to clear his mind and was brought sharply back to reality as splinters of wood from the post dug painfully into his cheek. Hearing muffled shouts coming from Buck's direction, Ezra quickly opened his eyes and looked at his friend, terrified that his uncle had spotted his movements and had given the signal for Buck to be punished again.
It took a few minutes for Ezra's confused mind to catch up with what he was seeing, and by the time he understood what the panicked expression in Buck's eyes meant, the sibilant hiss of the whip whispered through the air and Ezra's world erupted in an explosion of pain.
Buck had seen Delacourte's features twist into a mask of rage and had tried to warn Ezra, but he'd been too late. Blood dripped from his torn wrists onto his shoulders as he violently tugged and pulled at the rope in his frantic need to get to the gambler. Realizing he wasn't going to be able to get free, Buck turned his attention instead to ridding himself of the gag. After a few minutes of scrubbing his face roughly against his upraised arms, he finally managed to work the rag out of his mouth.
"Jesus... Ezra...." Buck watched in horror as Ezra's slender frame jerked helplessly under the endless barrage of blows. "You're killin' 'im, you crazy bastard!!"
Delacourte was stalking angrily back and forth behind Ezra, shouting accusations and curses at him and punctuating each one with a lash from the whip. Lost in his madness, he was beyond caring where the whip landed... all Matthew knew was that he had to destroy Ezra before his nephew destroyed him.
Ezra clutched at the chain holding his shackles in place in a valiant effort to keep himself still as the whip struck again and again, slicing open his back, arms, legs... no part of his body seemed to escape the cruel bite of the leather as the beating continued. And still Ezra denied his uncle the satisfaction of hearing him cry out, of seeing him break.
Delacourte's men were in shock. They'd never seen him lose control so completely and were terrified that their boss's mindless rage would be turned on them once he'd finished with his nephew. They were also aware of what was going to happen when Standish's friends found them and saw what had been done to the two men. Someone was finally going to knock Matthew Delacourte off his throne of power, and there was no way they were going down with him. One by one they slipped back into the shadows of the barn, and hastily made their escape.
Thomas Kirby had pulled his gun and tried to stop them, but had quickly realized he was out-numbered and stood aside.
Buck had been pleading with the others to at least cut his ropes before they left, but none of them were willing to risk attracting Delacourte's attention. Some mumbled apologies and actually seemed ashamed that they didn't have the courage to help Standish, while the others just shook their heads silently as they left. Once the last man had fled, Buck focused all his attention on Kirby... begging, threatening... trying anything he could think of to get the other man to release him before Delacourte succeeded in killing Ezra.
As Kirby hesitated, staring first at his prisoner and then at Matthew Delacourte, his decision was made for him. Catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned and felt his heart begin to race. Coming out of the trees at breakneck speed were five horses and their riders, guns drawn and a blazing thirst for vengeance darkening their chiseled features. Thomas Kirby chose the only option left opened to him if he wanted to live... he turned and ran.
Buck saw the fear that had suddenly appeared on the other man's face just before he took off, and thinking Delacourte had discovered his men's desertion, turned quickly to look out across the yard. His dark blue eyes filled with tears of relief as he saw what had sent Kirby running. "Oh thank God... Chris...."
Ezra whimpered softly and struggled to stay on his feet as the whip struck again, curling around his waist and biting into the tender skin of his stomach. His entire world had been reduced to a shimmering blaze of agony, and it was getting harder and harder for him to resist the welcoming void that beckoned to him from beyond the flames.
All Ezra wanted was to be released from the fiery, mind-numbing pain, but he knew he couldn't let go... he had to be strong for Buck... had to protect him. So Ezra continued to fight, pushing back the darkness and forcing himself to stay immersed in the burning haze that enveloped him.
When Chris and the others got their first glimpse of the plantation, they were distracted by the sight of a dozen or so men making their way across the fields toward the woods that surrounded them. Then their attention was drawn to the yard behind the barn, and they found themselves swept by a blinding rage that literally stole their breath away as they saw what Matthew Delacourte had done to their friends.
Delacourte was screaming wildly at Ezra while delivering one blow after another to his abused body. Even from that distance, the horrified peacekeepers could see the blood that streamed down the gambler's back and arms.
Buck was strung up in front of the gaping barn doors, apparently arguing with a man who stood nearby. The lanky gunfighter was facing away from them, and although he seemed to be in somewhat better condition than Ezra, it was still obvious that he'd also been given a bitter taste of the whip.
Each of them bore evidence of their war with Delacourte, but the reality of their own pain and suffering quickly faded into the background when faced with the hell their brothers were living through now.
With an angry shout, the five men and their mounts surged forward and raced out of the trees, intent on reaching Delacourte and exacting revenge.
JD, eyes trained on his best friend as he sped toward him, saw the man Buck had been yelling at look their way and then disappear around the corner of the barn. He caught Chris's eye and saw that their leader had noticed it as well.
Shaking his head at JD's unasked question, he shouted out orders as they rapidly closed the distance between themselves and the nightmarish scene still taking place near the barn. "Leave 'im! JD, you an' Josiah get Buck down! Vin an' Nathan, see to Ezra!" His steely gaze focused on Ezra's uncle.
"Delacourte's mine."
Buck tore his gaze away from the joyous sight of his friends riding hell-bent-for-leather to their rescue and turned to check on Ezra. He'd been sure that Delacourte would have heard the others coming by now and would be trying to get away, but the bastard was still wielding the whip... lost in his need to destroy his nephew and oblivious to everything else around him.
Buck swallowed convulsively, his stomach lurching when he saw the ungodly amount of blood that poured from the gambler's wounds. Ezra's face was a twisted mask of pain and his body shook continually as he fought to stay conscious.
"Hang on, Ezra! Chris and the others are here!" Buck yelled encouragement at the gambler, frantically trying to give him something to hold onto. "Come on now, pard, only a few minutes more!"
Ezra's eyes suddenly opened, their shimmering green depths filled with pain and what looked like regret. The younger man wearily shook his head, and Buck felt his heart leap into his throat as he saw Ezra struggle to speak and finally just mouth one word at him before his eyes slowly slid closed again. One silent word that Buck understood just as clearly as if the tormented gambler had screamed it... "sorry"....
<<I'm sorry, Buck. I tried... I'm just... tired... so damned... tired.>>
Ezra saw the fear on Buck's face just before he closed his eyes and hated knowing that he was the cause of it. But he'd done what he'd promised... kept his friend alive. Chris and the others had found them... Buck was safe... it was all that mattered to the exhausted gambler. He could finally stop fighting.
He'd forced his heavy lids open to get one last look at Buck, his brother and best friend. Ezra had wanted to say so much to him... wanted to thank him for everything he'd done, for everything he'd been to him, but he just couldn't find the strength to get the words out. Ezra hoped that Buck had at least gotten the weak 'sorry' he'd managed, and that he'd understood that he didn't really want to leave, but the pain was just too much for him to bear anymore.
Ezra let himself go and gasped as he was flung back into his fiery nightmare for a few terrifying moments. But then the burning agony of his wounds began to ease as he relinquished control and allowed the welcoming void to pull him closer. Ezra sighed in relief as the flames were slowly snuffed out by the soothing darkness that slipped over him and seemed to cradle him in its protective embrace. Familiar voices drifted in the air around him. Chris's angry shouts, his uncle's insane muttering... and Buck... ordering him to hang on... begging him not to give up.
Ezra pushed them all away. Why couldn't they understand that he was just too tired of it all to fight anymore... tired of the nightmares, tired of the guilt, and so very tired of the pain.
He just wanted the peace that the void was offering him. He just wanted it all to end.
Buck renewed his struggle to free himself, but had to stop when his frenzied movements started the hook he dangled from spinning, breaking his fragile connection with Ezra. He worked desperately to get his feet planted under him again, and once he had, fastened his gaze back on the gambler's slack features, praying he would open his eyes just one more time so he could reestablish contact with him. Because Buck had understood the meaning of that last look the Southerner had given him... Ezra was giving up. He knew Buck was safe, so he was going to stop fighting. Delacourte was going to win, and it was all his fault. His fault for not stopping Ezra from leaving the boardinghouse without the others instead of being so arrogant to think that he could keep him safe on his own. His fault for not paying attention by the creek and letting himself get caught. His fault for pushing Ezra to even come here in the first place.
Just as the others reached the edge of the yard, Buck saw Ezra's body slowly begin to sag against the post and felt a sudden sharp stab of pain pierce his heart. <<Oh God... I'm losin' him!>>
"Damn you, Ezra, I told ya to hang on!! Don't ya even think about leavin' me!!" Buck fought against the tears that were threatening to choke him as he tried everything he could think of to pull the gambler back. "Don't ya let that crazy bastard beat ya! You keep fightin', damn it!!"