"Buck!" Ezra woke with a shuddering cry... heart pounding... hands clutching at the sheet... green eyes wide with alarm as they frantically searched the dimly lit room for his friend.
"Right here, Ezra." Buck was there and ready for it, steadying the confused Southerner with a firm hand and gentle voice. "Easy now. You're all right."
The gambler's long sleep had been anything but restful as he'd tossed and moaned... one nightmare after another pulling him to the edge of consciousness, but never fully waking him until now.
Buck just sat quietly beside him until he seemed to have gotten his bearings.
"You okay?" he asked when Ezra finally looked up at him.
Ezra nodded slowly. "You?"
"Doin' just fine." Buck grinned and, satisfied that the other man was fully awake now, gave Ezra's shoulder a pat and moved back over to the chair. His expression softened at the sight of the younger man's answering smile. "I'm glad ya decided to stick around, Ezra."
Ezra's smile faded, and he stared solemnly back at Buck for a few moments before answering. "I made a promise to you."
Buck nodded confidently. "And I knew you'd keep it, pard... never doubted that for a minute."
Ezra marveled at the trust Buck still stubbornly held in him even after everything the older man had been put through just because he'd made the mistake of having Ezra as a friend. He winced as he watched Buck shift gingerly on the chair in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position without putting pressure on his still-healing back.
"I'm truly sorry for allowing you to be drawn into my nightmare, Buck." Ezra's voice was heavy with regret and guilt as he recalled the horrific sight of Buck dangling at the end of that rope, his body jerking helplessly as the whip bit deeply into his flesh, his usually sparkling blue eyes dulled by the agony of his wounds.
"Wasn't your fault, Ezra... it was mine. I shoulda been payin' better attention when they grabbed me. I knew I'd prob'ly be next... the bastard had already gotten to everyone else ya cared about." Buck tiredly scrubbed his hands over his face. "Hell, I never shoulda made ya come here in the first damn place, then none of this woulda happened."
Ezra shook his head emphatically. "No, y'all were right about me needin' to come back and face up to my fear, but I should have insisted on comin' alone. If I'd have been a stronger person —"
"Yeah, but I never shoulda let ya leave Abigail's without the others. Thought I could keep ya safe just fine on my own...."
"I assure you, Mr. Wilmington... you couldn't have stopped me if you tried. I was too stubborn to admit that I needed help."
Buck laughed and raised his hand, stopping the other man's guilty tirade. "Whoa, pard... we could be here all night tryin' to lay claim to the blame for this mess. How 'bout we stop an' just put it right where it belongs... on your damned uncle. He's the cause of all this. It's got nothin' to do with what you, or me, or anyone else did... just him."
Ezra hesitated and then nodded. It was hard to let go of the guilt when he was constantly faced with the awful consequences of this trip every time he looked at one of his friends and saw the injuries they'd incurred, but Buck was right... Uncle Matthew had started it all with his insane need to control everything and everyone in his life.
Uncle Matthew. He shuddered and saw Buck frown worriedly. Ezra tried to quell the irrational rush of panic that the gunman was obviously picking up on, but just thinking about his uncle had started his heart racing frantically in his chest.
"Buck? He... he is dead... isn't he?" Ezra whispered.
Buck hated seeing the fear that still resided in the younger man's pale green eyes, and hurried to try and reassure him. "Yeah, Ezra... he's dead. You an' Chris made sure of that."
Ezra closed his eyes and took a couple of shaky breaths to try and calm himself. When he thought he had his emotions under control, he opened them again and gave Buck a small apologetic smile.
"Sorry. I just... I just kept gettin' these conflicting images while I was... ill. One minute I thought we were still there at the barn... bein' whipped. The next I was positive M-Matthew was dead, and you were safe... and then suddenly there was Josiah tellin' me he still had you, and that you needed my help. By then, I thought we were back here, but I heard you callin' for me..." Ezra sighed and shrugged his shoulders, grimacing as he was painfully reminded of the damage done to his back. "It was all so confusin'. It seemed real at the time, but... I don't know, perhaps it was just a result of the fever."
Buck blushed guiltily and stared down at the floor. His voice when he spoke was so quiet, Ezra had to strain to hear what he was saying.
"It wasn't all caused by the fever, pard... just that first part. You were kinda confused 'bout where ya were when ya first woke up, so Nathan... he got ya calmed down some by showin' ya that I was layin' there in the other bed. Well, at least that's what he told me when I woke up. I was still out of it myself when that was goin' on so I can't really say for sure what happened... 'course by then I was a bit upset myself because the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Josiah slappin' ya, so then Nathan had to get me calmed down before I'd listen to 'im...."
"Buck?" Ezra tried to interrupt the older man in order to pose a few pertinent questions, but, to his consternation, he was ignored.
"See, Nathan didn't know that when he let ya see I was safe, he took away the reason you were fightin' so hard, but Josiah come in 'bout that time an' he saw right off that you'd given up again, just like I'd told him ya did when they showed up at the plantation. It 'bout killed me when I realized that ya were just gonna let yourself die like that an' there wasn't nothin' I could do about it..." Buck's voice trailed off for a second as he remembered the pain of almost losing Ezra that first time... of hanging there, unable to do anything to help while his friend was dying only a few feet away. Buck shook off the painful memories and continued. "So anyway, I guess Josiah told Nathan what was happenin', an' then had to slap ya a couple of times to get ya back... that's 'bout when I woke up an' found out we was losin' ya again."
Ezra paled as he clearly recalled wanting to die. Josiah had been right, he had been ready to let go once he was assured that Buck was out of danger. And so he'd simply quit fighting.
"Buck. It's all right."
But Buck was on a roll and was determined to finish.
"Well, ol' Josiah knew he had to come up with a reason for ya to hang on till ya got better enough to want to live again, so he decided to use me since he knew that's what had kept ya goin' before... durin' the... durin' the beatin' an' all. He told me to yell out for ya... to make ya think I was hurt... " Buck rubbed at his eyes as he remembered how hard it had been to go along with the preacher. "I swear to God, Ezra... I never wanted to do it. I never wanted to have to lie to ya like that. Damn... I'm sorry, pard... sorry for doin' that to ya. I never —"
"Dammit, Buck, will you listen to me?" Ezra demanded hoarsely as he reached out and slapped at the other man's leg.
Buck's head whipped up, and he stared in bewilderment at the irate gambler who was leaning over the side of the bed, gritting his teeth, and obviously regretting his method of getting the other man's attention.
"Damn... you okay, Ezra?" Buck quickly knelt beside the smaller man and grabbed his shoulder to steady him.
"Fine... I'm fine. Just... give me a minute." Ezra lay gripping the edge of the mattress, panting softly as he waited for the room to stop spinning.
Buck waited until he nodded and then eased him back up onto his side. He was alarmed by the pallor of the Southerner's face and decided it might be a good idea to get Nathan, but when he tried to move, Ezra grabbed his arm and forced him to stay where he was.
"I told you, I'm fine. There's no need to disturb Mr. Jackson's rest." Ezra took a few deep breaths and then managed a weak smile. "I merely moved too fast and became a bit dizzy, that's all."
"Let go of me, an' I'll get ya some water. You're probably a mite dried out 'cause of that fever."
As soon as Ezra released him, Buck poured the water and, after a brief argument, held the mug while the gambler drank.
Once he'd finished, Buck sat back down in his chair and frowned at Ezra. "Now ya wanna tell me why the hell ya did that?"
Returning the former lawman's frown, Ezra replied crisply, "It seemed to be the only way to shut you up."
Buck's frown deepened. "Well, I was just tryin' to explain to ya what happened an' apologize for lyin' to ya."
Ezra shook his head in exasperation. "I know what you were tryin' to do, Buck. And I was just tryin' to tell you that I understand why y'all did what you did, because Josiah was right... I was ready to die."
"Damn, pard... you actually remember that?" Buck stared at him, his eyes wide with shock.
Ezra shuddered as the memory washed over him again. "Unfortunately, yes, I do."
Buck reached out and held Ezra's hand for a moment, as if to reassure himself that it hadn't happened, that his friend was really still there with them.
"I'm glad that what we did worked, an' you're still here an' all, but I'm still sorry I lied to ya, Ezra. I wish I —" Buck growled in frustration as the gambler interrupted him.
"Mr. Wilmington, will you just stop before I have to strike you again?" Ezra warned. "I'm really not up to the added exertion, but I will do it if you force me to."
"Damn, Ezra... if ya'd just let me apologize—" Buck stopped again as the younger man waved a fist weakly in his direction.
Ezra closed his eyes briefly and then stared tiredly at Buck. "Mr. Wilmington, why did you tell me that lie in the first place?"
Buck shook his head in confusion. "I already told ya, Ezra... Josiah figured knowin' I was in trouble would keep ya fightin'."
Ezra nodded and patiently asked his next question. "So in other words, you lied to me to keep me from dyin'... have I got that right?"
"Yeah, an' it worked, too..." Buck scowled at the Southerner. "Ezra... is there a point to this? 'Cause I gotta admit, I don't underst—"
Ezra held his hand up, again stopping him. "Just one more question, if you please." He paused, and then with a twinkle in his eye, asked, "Buck... why in heaven's name are you tryin' to apologize for savin' my life?"
"I'm not—! That isn't what I—!" Buck sputtered to a stop and just stared at Ezra while his words slowly sunk in. "Well, damn...."
Ezra nodded and laughed softly at the stunned expression that now graced the gunfighter's handsome face. "My feelings precisely, Mr. Wilmington."
Buck blushed slightly and then grinned at Ezra. "All right... how 'bout this? I'm sorry I had to lie to ya, but I'm sure as hell not sorry that it worked. That okay with you?"
"Good Lord..." Ezra rolled his eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Since it's obvious you're not goin' to give up, I accept your apology, Mr. Wilmington."
"Thank you, Mr. Standish," Buck replied formally as he gave the other man a little bow.
"Fine. Now that that's settled, could I possibly trouble you for another cup of water? After all that, I find myself quite—" Ezra's request was interrupted by a loud, gurgling rumble from his stomach.
"— hungry, from the sounds of it." Buck burst out laughing at the flush of embarrassment that washed over the gambler's face. "How 'bout instead of that water, I run down to the kitchen an' fetch a bowl of that broth Nathan left simmerin' on the stove for ya?"
"As much as I'd prefer to politely refuse puttin' you to such an effort at this late hour, I'm afraid I must accept your kind offer as my stomach seems to be of the opinion that it needs something a bit more substantial than just water." Ezra made a move to push himself up in the bed, but Buck quickly stopped him.
"Don't even think about it, pard. You just wait till I get back, an' then I'll help ya get propped up so ya can eat. You go tearin' open any of those wounds now that Nathan's finally got them healin' up, an' he'll be shootin' the both of us. And Belle'd be passin' him the ammunition... that woman's been here every day, plasterin' that special salve of hers on us to keep the scarrin' down. She wouldn't take too kindly to findin' out it had all been for nothin'."
"Oh, I'm well aware that Belle has been here." Ezra sniffed delicately and then wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Her special salve has a rather... er... unique... aroma."
"Ya got that right. Hell, I thought a damned skunk had crawled in bed with us when I woke up an' smelled that stuff," Buck laughingly agreed as he turned to go after the soup. Stopping at the door, he pointed a warning at the gambler. "Stay put."
Ezra gave Buck a mock salute and then obediently settled back down under the covers. Truth be told, as weak as he felt, it was pretty much a certainty that even rolling over was out of the question without some assistance.
So Ezra waited, and when Buck returned with the steaming bowl of broth, he graciously accepted the other man's help. His back was still extremely tender, but with both of their pillows stacked behind him, Ezra was able to achieve a more or less upright position with a minimum of discomfort.
In order to avoid an argument they were both clearly too tired for, the two men compromised over the gambler's belated dinner... Ezra allowed Buck to hold the bowl for him, while he shakily wielded the spoon. It took a little longer to finish that way, but the time passed quickly with Buck filling Ezra in on what had been happening while he'd been in the grip of the fever.
He was pleased to hear that Katherine, like Belle, had stopped by daily to check on his condition and to offer her help. Ezra had been worried she would blame him for his uncle's latest atrocity against heir father, and was relieved to learn that such was not the case. Buck reluctantly told him that Katherine had already seen to the remains of both their father and Amanda. It saddened Ezra that he hadn't been there, but his grief was eased by the knowledge that they both were hopefully resting in peace now that their murderer had finally gotten his just rewards.
By the time Buck finished relating what he'd been told about the roundup of Kirby and the others, it was clear that Ezra's meager store of energy had been used up. He chuckled softly as the exhausted gambler, struggling to spoon up the rest of the broth, managed to miss his mouth completely and hit his chin instead.
"Aw hell... I'm sorry, Buck. I should have been more—" Ezra's face flushed a bright red as he stammered out an apology and swiped a shaky hand at the soup dripping onto his chest.
"Hush now... that ain't nothin' to get upset about. It's just a sign that you need to get some more sleep." Buck ignored Ezra's half-hearted protests that he'd slept all day and wasn't tired as he eased the spoon out of the Southerner's hand and passed him a dampened cloth to mop up the spilled broth. When Ezra tried to argue further, Buck calmly offered to wake Nathan to ask for his opinion. In just a matter of minutes, he had the suddenly compliant gambler settled back down on his side and covered up.
"Buck?" Ezra snuggled his face into his pillow and stared drowsily over at the lanky gunfighter. "I have a vague recollection of someone... singin'... while I was indisposed. Was I just imaginin' that?"
"Nope, that one was real, pard. It was Abigail. You kept dreamin' an' thrashin' around, an' poor Nathan 'bout wore himself to a frazzle tryin' to keep ya still so ya didn't hurt yourself. Abigail came in an' found 'im bent over ya, practically beggin' ya to lie still an' rest, an' lookin' like he was 'bout ready to pitch a fit. So she just eased ol' Nathan outta the way, sat down beside ya, an' started pettin' at your face an' hair an' singin' lullabies to ya... all sweet an' soft-like. You calmed right down an' didn't have no more of them nightmares for quite awhile after that, an' the rest of the time you were sick, she was right here to sing ya back to sleep whenever ya got restless again," Buck explained, and then smiled as he looked over and saw the gambler still stubbornly fighting against the sleep he needed the same way a small child would... scrubbing his face against the pillow, jerking his eyes open wide the moment they started to close....
Buck stared thoughtfully at Ezra for a few moments, then glanced nervously at the open door and listened carefully for any sign that the others might be awake. Turning back toward the Southerner, he shrugged and mumbled, "Ah, what the hell."
Slipping over onto the edge of the bed, Buck reached out and lightly stroked Ezra's hair as he began softly humming a strangely soothing blend of Abigail's lullabies, songs he remembered his mother crooning to him as a child, and the hymns they'd all taken to singing at Josiah's Sunday services.
Buck forgot his embarrassment when he saw Ezra's lashes flutter and then close, and heard his breathing change to the slow, even rhythms of sleep. As soon as he was sure the gambler was going to stay asleep, Buck tucked the covers snugly around him and whispered, "Hope this brings ya sweet dreams for a change, Ezra. You've sure as hell earned 'em."
"Ezra Payton Standish... you get your sorry white behind right back in that bed!"
Ezra nearly stumbled and fell as he spun around in shocked surprise and found himself face to face with his self-appointed 'jailors', Abigail and Belle. Flushing a deep scarlet from head to toe, the embarrassed gambler made a frantic grab for the pair of soft, white cotton drawers he'd been about to pull on and clutched the garment in front of him in a vain attempt at preserving his modesty.
"Ladies!" Ignoring the dizziness and the spasm of pain that his sudden movement had caused, Ezra pulled himself together and flashed a wide smile at them, his gold tooth glittering as it captured and reflected the sun streaming through the window behind him. "Aren't you both lookin' lovely this morn-"
"Stow it, young man." Abigail planted her hands on her ample hips and stared hard at Ezra, bringing his attempt at charming them to an abrupt halt. "I believe Belle gave you an order... or perhaps you need our help?"
Ezra heard a loud snort of laughter and shot a scathing glare at Nathan who was standing in the hall watching with a smug grin of satisfaction spread across his handsome face.
"I'm glad you are finding this so amusin', Mr. Jackson. Why don't you— No!" Ezra yelped and backed rapidly toward the bed as he suddenly realized the two women were moving toward him. "Ladies... please! I'm quite capable of—"
Before he knew what was happening, Ezra found himself back in the bed and tucked snugly under the covers. He let out another indignant yelp as, with a flick of the sheet and a lightening-fast grab, Abigail reached in, snatched the underwear he'd hoped they'd forgotten about out of his hands, and tossed them to Belle who had already gathered up the rest of his clothing and was waiting patiently by the door.
"We'll just hang onto these for now. Perhaps that, at least, will encourage you to listen to Mr. Jackson and heed his advice." Ignoring the irate gambler's stammered protests about the injustice of their actions, Abigail and Belle gave Nathan a conspiratorial wink and left the room.
As soon as the door closed behind the two women, the facade Ezra had been stoically maintaining crumbled, and with a soft groan, he wearily slumped back against the pillows.
Nathan sat down on the bed, shaking his head in mild exasperation as he dampened a cloth and gently wiped away the light sheen of sweat that glistened on Ezra's pale face. "Damn it, Ezra, ya gotta listen t' me an' take it easy. You ain't been rid of the fever that long. Keep pushin' like ya been doin', an' you'll bring it back on, an' it'll take twice as long for ya t' get better."
Ezra angrily pushed Nathan's hand away and weakly raged against everything he thought was unfair in his world at that particular moment.
Nathan sat beside the Southerner in silence, waiting patiently for him to finish venting his frustration, until finally, Ezra stuttered to a stop and closed his eyes.
"Finished?"
After a moment, Ezra nodded and whispered tiredly, "I just want to go home."
The healer placed his hand on the smaller man's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "We all do, Ezra. An' jus' as soon as we get your strength built back up, we'll be able t' leave... but that ain't gonna happen anytime soon if ya don't do what I tell ya."
"... 'm sorry, Nathan."
Nathan heard the slight tremor in Ezra's voice and his heart went out to the gambler. Between the ordeal he'd suffered at the hands of his uncle and the indignities he'd been forced to put up with as a necessary part of his recovery, Ezra's pride had taken some pretty harsh blows. Considering everything he'd been through, Nathan had to admit that, except for a few small lapses, he'd been remarkably well-behaved... and the last thing he needed or deserved was to be chastised for giving into the natural urge to reassert at least a small part of his independence. But Nathan just couldn't help worrying about him.
He sighed and gave Ezra's arm a consoling pat as he stood up. "That's all right, Ezra. I know you're tryin', an' if you'll jus' give it another couple of days, I promise we'll have ya up an' on your feet again. Okay?"
Ezra opened his eyes and scowled up at the healer. "How many days exactly are we talkin' about here, Mr. Jackson?"
"Two. You stay in that bed an' mind what I tell ya for two more days, an' I promise I'll let ya get up."
"And when can we go home?" Ezra asked, his scowl still firmly in place, but with a mischievous gleam now lightening his green eyes.
Nathan couldn't help but grin at the gambler's persistence. "Don't push it, Ezra. Ya ain't wheedlin' no more promises outta me. We'll leave jus' as soon as I'm sure you an' Buck are up t' the trip an' not before."
"Speakin' of Mr. Wilmington... may I inquire as to the whereabouts of my fellow inmate?" Ezra nodded sharply at the other bed in the room which was currently unoccupied.
"Last time I saw 'im, he was sittin' out on the veranda with Josiah... sippin' on a cold glass of sweet tea an' eatin' a big ol' piece of the chocolate cake Miz Abigail made yesterday." Nathan instantly regretted mentioning the cake when he saw the look of longing that appeared on Ezra's face. The gambler's sweet tooth nearly rivaled that of their tracker's... especially when it came to chocolate. "Don't even think about it, Ezra, ain't no way you're ready for somethin' as heavy as that cake. But ya do need t' eat, so I'll go fetch ya somethin' I think your stomach can handle, then I'll change your bandages an' let ya get some more rest."
Ezra slouched down in the bed and stared crossly at Nathan's retreating back. "Oh joy... another sumptuous repast of broth and tea, more of Belle's fragrant ointment smeared all over me, and as a special added treat... a nap." When he saw the healer stop in the doorway and look back at him, Ezra rolled his eyes dramatically toward the ceiling and slapped a hand lightly over his heart. "Careful, Mr. Jackson... I'm not sure my fragile constitution is up to that much excitement."
Nathan's deep, rich laughter rolled through the room and forced a chuckle from Ezra. As soon as he got control of himself again, Nathan smiled warmly at the gambler. "Lord but I missed that, Ezra. Ain't nobody as good at fussin' at me as you are."
"I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Jackson." Ezra grinned and tipped his head at the other man in a mock salute. "I don't suppose you would consider bringin' me just a tiny sliver of that delectable cake as a reward for my mastery of the art of complaining?"
"You jus' don't give up, do ya, Ezra?" Nathan laughed, before turning and walking out the door.
"Is that a yes?" Ezra called after him. "Mr. Jackson?... Nathan?"
His only answer was another deep-throated burst of laughter.
"Tyrant...." Ezra muttered as he stared resentfully at the now-empty doorway.
"Sweet-talkin' me won't work, Ezra!"
The healer merely shook his head and grinned at the quickly-muffled, undignified giggle which echoed down the stairs behind him.
Yes sir... he surely had missed it, Nathan thought as he pushed open the door and stepped into the kitchen. "Miz Abigail, you got any of that tea an' cake left?"
An ideal patient? No... even being generous, Nathan couldn't quite go that far, but he did have to admit that he'd never before seen Ezra come as close as he did to achieving that lofty status. As promised, he did every single thing Nathan asked of him, reluctantly and with more than a fair amount of grumbling and sulking, but that didn't take away from the fact that he drank down every vile potion and tea the healer set before him, closed his eyes and at least attempted to sleep whenever he was told it was time to rest, submitted, albeit red-faced and tight-lipped, to the necessity of accepting help with his personal needs, and suffered through all of their well-meant attempts to entertain and amuse him.
Needless to say, it was an extremely long two days for everyone concerned, but finally, as promised, the third morning found a very relieved Ezra dressed and seated at the dining table, enjoying breakfast with his equally relieved friends.
Abigail gazed sadly around the table at 'her boys' as she'd come to think of her seven boarders. "I suppose you'll be returnin' home soon now that our wounded lambs are both well on the mend?"
Everyone looked expectantly at Nathan. They'd all been trying to drag an exact date out of him for when Ezra and Buck would be able to travel, and so far, all they'd gotten out of the cautious healer was 'soon.'
Nathan looked over at his two former patients and narrowed his eyes. Pointing a long, dark finger at the two men, he finally gave them an answer. "If those two don't push themselves an' get plenty of rest, I s'pose we could be outta here by the end of the week. I jus' wanna give Ezra a few more days t' make sure his legs are healed up good for he goes climbin' up on that horse... since I know he won't lower hisself t' makin' that trip back t' Henderson in a buggy."
Ezra just smiled at him and took another sip of his coffee.
"Figgered as much." Nathan shook his head and helplessly grinned back at the cocky gambler. Try as he might, the healer just couldn't dredge up his usual irritation at Ezra's refusal to heed his advice. It was just too soon after nearly losing him.
Chris peered over his steaming cup at Mrs. Stokes and frowned. "Abigail, are you gonna be okay once we leave? There's still some of Delacourte's people in town who are probably gonna resent you helpin' us... think they'll be givin' ya any trouble?"
The others all shot concerned glances at the elderly lady. She'd come to mean a lot to them in the short time they'd known her, and they were all dreading having to say goodbye.
Abigail waved a dismissive hand and smiled reassuringly at them. "Don't you be worryin' none about me. I've dealt with Delacourte and his bunch since we moved here, and they haven't gotten the best of me yet. I'll be just fine." Her smile turned wistful. "I surely am goin' to miss you boys though."
JD ducked his head and stared disconsolately down at his plate as he blinked back the hot rush of tears that just the thought of leaving Abigail had brought to his eyes. Suddenly he had an idea. Looking back up at her, his hazel eyes shining with excitement, he blurted out, "Why don't you come with us?!"
Abigail shook her head fondly at his boyish enthusiasm. "Now, JD, I can't just—"
He sent a pleading look at the others for a show of support as he explained his plan. "No... it'd work! You could buy the boardinghouse! Mr. Rudder's been tryin' to sell it ever since his wife died back in the winter. He's wantin' to move back to Ohio where his son lives... I'll bet he'd sell it to ya real cheap 'cause he can't find no one else to buy it!"
Abigail shared a smile with Nathan and Josiah. The two men had approached her just the day before about this same subject. Turning back to JD, she patted his cheek softly and shook her head. She regretted being the cause of the crestfallen look that slowly replaced his eager grin. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you want me to come home with you, but I'm just too old to be makin' a move like that. And I don't want y'all frettin' about me... I promise you, I'll be just fine."
Abigail hated the air of depression that had fallen over the table. They were all uttering the appropriate words of understanding, but she saw the disappointment lurking behind their obviously forced smiles.
Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat at their concern for her, Abigail stood and scowled down at them. "All right, now that'll be enough of that. I'm not goin' to have y'all ruining my beautiful memories of you and our time together. Now you boys just quit your mopin' and put some real smiles on those handsome faces of yours and tell me more about home. I want to be able to picture everything in my mind when I read your letters..." she stared sternly around the table at them, "and I expect at least one of you to write to me regularly, even if it's just a few lines, to let me know you're all okay. Understood?"
Ezra frowned as six sets of eyes zeroed in on him. His brief attempt at arguing with them was met with six huge grins and a jumbled string of excuses... "but Ezra, you write the purtiest"... "but Ezra, you know all those high-falutin' words"... "but Ezra, you've got that fancy writin' set"...
Ezra threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, gentlemen. I'll take on the position of correspondent for our merry band, but out of respect for our charming hostess, each of you will add a word or two of your own to each missive before I send it. Agreed?"
The others all quickly nodded their agreement, then while Abigail moved about the room refilling coffee cups and replenishing the various platters with food, they set aside their disappointment and entertained her with a few humorous and colorful tales of their life in Four Corners.